Whirlwind of Lovers

(based on the painting of the same name by William Blake)

Shalini Nayar

This is a special typhoon of sorts.

It revolves and turns;

A windy conch-shell blowing in a

Random, disorderly manner.

The patrons that travel in them

Are enviable. Unclothed and unashamed,

They are useless to be reminded.

They remain oblivious throughout this

Journey, that demands so little out of them.

They get a whole world of lusty love in return.

Yes, it is love, the sick purity of it

Makes them feverish. It’s like being

In the middle of a tornado of

Hot-coal, with no control of the temperature.

It is quite a traffic in there, with hordes of

Turned-on traffic looming together

With the cheekiness of rotations.

Clockwise, counter-clockwise,

Either way, they look comfortable being

In their own skin.

This twister are more like telephone cords.

Not so black, but with the same

Terrible, manic curls, each concocting

Its own love story. The lovers are wind-bathed

And pampered. The flawlessness that resides

In their hair, faces, bodies! They are so white,

They’re almost perfect. It is so pure, so magical

In there, it is heaven!

If only the wind lasts forever

In this eternal sea of people,

The world would start

To utter more sense.

26 Oct - 28 Nov 2002

These Little Things

Shalini Nayar

These little signs I see

Are pathways to a tragedy.

I am deeply disturbed and saddened

By these elements. How they mock my values.

Your anger tantrums, nitpicking on

Every insignificant matter annihilates me.

Poor Daddy…at dinner he really gets it.

Every word he says is shot down

With a great trifle of criticisms.

Then you’ll start something about

Your beloved Professor at the lab,

Who commented on your perfume this morning.

You smile when you say this, occasionally

Bursting into a large laughter of

“Can you believe he said that to me?”

All Daddy wanted to know was

The time of the reception and

You accused him of blabbering nonsense.

Poor, poor Daddy.

These little things have led me to be

So convinced in my theory. How true it is,

Only the watchful of the Gods can tell.

26 March 2003

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Kavya, May 2003