Monday, March 22, 2010

My love

By night and day, the lady would sit and weave, my love
till Lancelot sang his 'tirra lirra' and she would leave, my love.

Now you say it was so easy for me to reach and wreck
your heart. Who told you to wear it on your sleeve, my love?

The beloved always leaves, James had told you. So when
you learnt to love, you should have learnt to grieve, my love.

I tell you that you will find some one better. 'The world lies
disenchanted,' you say, 'now don't ask me to believe, my love.'

I see them playing with their pets in Hyde Park. I remember
our conversations. Even dogs have learnt to retrieve my love.

And will you, fortune's favorite son, look around
one day and find there is no one to bereave, my love.

Vikram said 'A friend, unlike a lover, does not need to be wooed
by exaggerations;' it is good you never meant to deceive, my love.

They ask me what Akhil means, I tell them 'the whole universe,'
it bides time in the name you will not receive, my love.

(Thanks to Agha Shahid Ali and Vikram Seth)

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The biopic lecture

I was taking notes on my laptop
when the professor stated: 'So he
loves her like a madman in 1903,'
a little jaded, I mistyped 'loved.'
I could not help, you know,
this s and d are right next
to each other on the keyboard.
Who knew love ends like a typo,
a letter wrong and you detonate softly.
Or perhaps I must have sensed
that their love would not last
when I faulted its tense from
present continuous to past.