I dedicate this poem to Kush, because the idea of writing a verse-poem along these lines occured to me while I was having a heart-to-heart chat with him.
I am sure he would not approve of this one. Still, an attempt made is an attempt worth posting.....So I say to myself and all my wonderful friends here.

And regarding all the loving requests that were made to me in these days to post at my earliest...I can only express my heart-felt gratitude at such an ex-pression of love and care. I am indebted to all of you for your kindness. And I am honored.

MY    ROOM-MATE    FOR      LIFE

 Pain shares its room with me.
 Dry, desolate and dreary.
 Sometimes crying out in unheard wails,
Weeping in unseen tears of saline moist vapours.
I look with innocent wonder at his wet cheeks,
Admiring the defiant embers of extinguished hope.
There are moments, when some profound deep emotion
Stirs within his bleeding heart.
His eyes show only a thin screen of gathering red.
A shade not as crimson as the dying tide in the lap of setting sun
But, a shade closer to a mountain stream
Bathed in the blood of defeated knights.
Defiant in death. Glorious in gore.
A shade which is more an admission than a mystery.
I discover that he feeds nonchalance to fight despair.
Gazing at him in honest awe, I wonder.


Pain shares his room with me.
Dry, desolate and dreary.
Dust gathers on my books and his,
Reminding us both of a prolonged slumber.
Yet, pretence makes us look beyond
Our horizons of comforting agony.
Life escapes in a shameless trickle
Dancing a naked, vulgar dance of crude mockery.
As a victor to a vanquished, as a master to a caged beast.
Me, quiet on my callous couch-
Remain a silent spectator to this torrid tussle.
Ignorant if to enjoy or empathize.
My friend weeps in sincere surprise
Or sense of loss. I wouldn’t know.


Pain shares his room with me.
Dry, desolate and dreary.
I amuse myself with his poems sometimes.
They leave my mind crippled and heart numbed.
I feel a lurking trauma unfathomable in disguise.
Still, at every sunset when I steal glances at him
I see dusk diffusing from his forlorn face to fit the sky.
His features the image of apocalypse.
He frightens me sometimes.
Yet, at times, Silent, Serene and Solemn
He meditates in search of some primitive peace.
I worship his poise at those times.
I admire his creations which speak of him,
Telling a tale of frozen despair.
I feel they are not for love or life
For love touched him, warped him and left him torn.
A Cosmic joke stares back at me at these times.
I decide not to console him .
Let Pain be Pained. Let Pain be at Peace.



Let this linger for a while................................