Preconceived for Piki: April 11th, 2023

 One Priyanka’s pretty, the other one’s a dime

One Priyanka’s famous, the other one is mine.

One Priyanka followed me looking for Ethiopian sees.

One doesn’t rely on Djibouti, and chaats her fingers neat.

One Priyanka married her firanji savior, call him Jonas brother.

My Priyanka couldn’t ever be compared to yet another.

My Priyanka’s my bronzed golden penny, the other one’s a nickel

One Priyanka’s exotic, and my Priyanka’s to be tickled

One Priyanka can sing dance and sing, the other one’s the truth

One Priyanka never learned about John Wilkes Booth.

One Priyanka remains silent when she had supporters in the drains

My Priyanka listens to me and asks me have you gone insane?

One Priyanka is incredulous, the other one unbelieving

My Priyanka asks me really? Will we have another meeting?

The Answer: Of Course; And many mores! let us rectify love together! ~ Your Radha ~

Piki, April 10th, 2023

 Coming from Your Side :>) <- = -> :o>)

Coming from your side, I wait, I get ready, I wait. I put on the linen clothes, or are they cotton? Wait, let me do my hair again, with my fingernails. Wait, let me go downstairs and speak with Siddhartha (Saha), and smoke a cigarette in the garage. Wait, let me go upstairs lest I spend too much time in the garage. Wait, let me check my watch, to see what time we had arranged for. Wait, let me look at the map for good measure, though I know These roads by heart now. Let me walk to the right and speak to the dobi. Let me speak to his sons and all is now rosy. Let me speak to Ya Ya man, he'll call me a good boy. Let me go half chai with Jai Dev Yadav and we'll twirl our mustaches together. Let me speak to the one who works at the dhaaba, not the one of the Sardarji Gentlemen, but the one closer to the cola-shop. Let me buy another packet of cigarettes, let me walk around the marble house to the corner shop that's not quite on the corner. Let me speak to the Mohammaden's who keep the look out on Shakespeare. Let me ponder whether to go around Hungerford or through, take a right or left, leave Wood street in the blue. Let me go around the other way, the way I came. I'm just remembering there's a meet I have coming up, let me blaze away.

Wait, I’m coming back around the corner, past the daab vala, the shoebox barber, and the shoe shiner’s I never needed, for I have my own anklets. Let me walk by Nature Study Park past the times of my Xaverian college students smoking up the Bengalis. Smoking up for the Marwaris, the Punjabis, the Haryanvis. Have you forgotten where you’ve arrived? We’re far from the family feeling of Gujurati.

This is Kolkata I see, I could walk through nature study and end up at another park with my Samne Wale making education for all the future hubbies. Bharat, Rohit, Shrenik were a fine trio of cousins and brothers. Aditya, Harsh Vardhan, Kanishka, and Siddhartha Gautama are my sentries watching Subroto watching us bare. Through binoculars and Tagore-stringed glares. ‘Ah, ahem, stock exchange is child’s play. Yes, yes,’ “We toh are philanthropists.” You’re going to go seeing live music, what a rambunctious twist, to the story of Franz Lizst and Ferdinand Majello. I’ll eat the mac’n’cheese as a midnight snack but first let me investigate my fellows.

But wait, I have a meet or is it a date, or just the second time. We’ll be seeing each other, not with water, tea, or wine. No treats are being promised, but the first time you bought me 'fried' chicken.

At an arm and a leg and it wasn’t even “fried chicken.” But that’ll do for now I said, I ate it most delectably. Because really I was paying for the seat and the merci company. But wait, I have another meet, and now you’re coming your side.

From Howrah, I don’t know the way back, though you showed me our first time. This time you’re struggling with being thrown out your family’s gold mine. The mine you inhabit where all is golden, for you’re an only daughter. An only son and only child and all the glory goes to dust, when a father cannot even reprimand a daughter rightly nor could trust.

Let her go and let her free, to chose the fate she wants. Let her freely orthodoxly be, the one she’s always wanted. Let her be and let her see the song in circular upward cloudy haze. Let her know the songbirds will return with every fleeting gaze.

Let her see the puja of the Punjabi’s on the way. Let her miss her train for once, she’ll never do it again. For she never has in years she said, and now she’s actually late.

Let her stop at Esplanade and New Market processions, too. Let her out the city walls and bring her back to you. You, are my mother’s mother’s mother, my beloved’s mother, too. You are the one out of my sight but I know you ring so true. You are a mother like all good mothers, who heard it first and knew it first, and shouted out he’s not the worst, and whispered to you he might be the best, but first you’ll have to pass his tests.

See, It’s not only you that suffers, I’m waiting up and down the corridors. I’m waiting in hospital beds and jails, I’m waiting behind locked corridoors. I’m so door and you’re my doori, not a poem but sweet reality. I wouldn’t have it any other way because a love so thimble won't be contained.

A love so melodious, so Thelonious, could make me Finneas Newborn, too. Or Finneas Gage with lesions in his brain, and a whole new personality tried on to try on the taste of a whole new shame.

Let her out the Howrah walls, and I’ll meet her at the station. Let her fly at Shubhas Chandra Bose, and I’ll gallop Bengali voiced to the gates.

Let her come to Park street, and even within the Halls of Outram Street. For there was once Prem Verma on the other side, and now he’s dead and gone and all I do is wait. For Priya cinema halls were the ones where we left to see the Sundarbans. And the Sundar one is my Priya hallway that connected M to Prem. I was once pyaar, don’t know mohobbat, and know I speak of sundarwands. Your Harry Potter, your Prince, your Miles Davis, your Veena Vishwa Mohan. Your drumma boy, your Zaytoven, your Amjad Ali with two sons. Your Shri Shree Ravi Shankar, acharya of the business woes.

Garments are your trade, and I wear yours well. I walked past Linen club on my way, waiting for you to tell. Where will you meet me, will we get lost, my service isn’t all so swell. I’m on an international plan, getting gauged out my eyes to pay for a service you Indians do so well.

The Koreans might have my passwords, and Zuckerberg and Serge and Wozniack my soul. But we invented the internet so they’ll have to lick our souls one day. They will have to bow and blow.

They’ll bow down for all the ruckus of automated erroneous fuck this. Chupa mi penguins and know me whole, I don’t bow down for no man. But for you, I’ll walk a million miles, side by side, perfectly in step.

You know I’ve got rhythm and you had the blues. Now show me red vermillion hues.

For one last line I won't forget to keep the middle sweltering red. To keep the inkwell bleed and bled, to one day have you in my bed. To keep you in my head.

To be continued...

Piki, April 5th 2023

There is someone on my mind. You know, it's hard to remember what my lines are here when we only got two meets before I followed orders and left you low and dry with the sweatiness of the understanding in my eyes. You see, walking with you up and down Park street was not really much of the musical adventure I was hoping it to be. Imagine ending Chopin's heroic polonaise with the raindrop prelude mixed with the melodramatic expectation of another sonorous moonlight sonata and all I left you with was a bolero that ended not in cacophony but that silent way. A heartbreak in the depths of my being. For about 7 minutes prior I could not withstand the dystopia of how I'd blown this date to mapquest and a Brody in Mars. I chastened my feet up the street to maintain a yoke with you for you had bolted the instant I said, let's find somewhere to sit. You see, there are no cliches here, nor did I need anything other than to turn left and see your face. Instead the New Years lights and Christmas celebrations still adorning Camac and park, it was enough for me to almost drop 106 mac rap city all da way down in the bassinet. These are streets I needed no maps for but I'd forgotten you were from the other side of the river. I marveled at the steel bridge my whole being and nothing told me to stop and appreciate the gentle suspenders of the second Howrah Bridge.

Where did we first cross paths? Was I Nicco Park, was it Jabala, was it Durga Ouja, was I when my Nani Kusum hobbled with her cane down the sloping red velvet analogues of aisles during the all night gurupurnima of my maasterji's maaster (my tabalchi). Was it science city or college street or princes ghat, or dakhsineshwar after all that remembering...??

I really do need you , as much as I want you, for you have taught me in a few short decades of hours within a third of a solar cycle that fires hot was forlorn in Addis, Roaming was forlorn to be my learning mate and fox guide, your bluntness is gentler and kinder because I've been tested by mettle, meticulously groomed by my own fingernails and the hammers of the state I have inhabited by whole zindagi. Yeh arth na mileage Dubari. Ayega meri darbari. Amar Bishi bondu, aamar ek tara. I may not speak your language fluently, for everyone who knows me knows how much I love that phrase- Aami Bangladesh Jaani Na? Ami Bengali seekbo. N Aami tu mako nebbe.

Remember me the way you drink your tea, gazing at everythin other than Maya.

Dedicated to my driver and the servants and employees and servant-employee-family members of Outram street. Kolkata. 700017

To Radha

From your Krishna

For All of Us, because of i and u, actually

 Wed Apr 12th 2023

Amar daDa hain Bhojupuri

Amar DiDi hein sirf ek

Amar Kalindidi hain yeh Yamuna

Aur Ganga bhi milte hai

Lekin Hooghly kabuli bulti nahi

Ki Uma Shankar gadi chala the thein

Un Brahmin peenevale ke pehle, Madhushala main mere Nana milte thein

Mere Mama ki Bhaabi Parsi thi aur Zoroastrian hain,

Mere Cyrus Tata guytar sekhaye,

Mere Maasterji ke Guruji ke spondilitis thein,

Aur mere Master ke paas una laathi,

Mere Mukherji Chatterjee building ke pass chalte nehein

Amitava Amitabha ban gayi,

Unke beti bhi tabla vali hain, aur unke Maji gaana gaati

Mere Mansrovar Colorado na jaati hain,

Mere Lake Kailash Saat thaal ke chhaute Nenital gumalenge,

Pahad ke upar, bohun ke neeche,

Akaash Pataal, Parivaar ke peeche,

Pariyavachi ne sikhaye 10 kiladi Outram Street ki,

Ki juta upar mat karna, yeh to Skool Time hain.

Na na na NAO AB~ Apna time Aya Hain!

Main toh ASMAAN ke niche naate the,

Mere bhai behen bhai duj na maante the,

Lekin Amar sahelis pura Sahara dekte thein,

Zee TV, Star Sports, Doordarshan hamne toh baniyein

Ram ne ek aank milaye Arjun se aur bole teer mere hirangi chuyiye

Mat.

I’ll smite you motes to smithereens. If you don’t respect Mr. Smithers’ grins.

Eggcellent shy and one short of an omelot. 4 eggs scrambled and aloo began burned. I’ll watch you if you want to take a turn. I’ll spin you this side of Madura, I’ll pin you Pittsburgh GameLa. 

I haven’t seen La La Land but I know it’s a better movie. For imagination knows no bounds and you’re a spurious infinit. Infinit-I self determines me and myself, mirene, and Irami.

For I didn’t stay at home for school, main toh safarnama kar liya

Ab mere ghar aane ka time aaya hain. Aur Lara mere Tendulkar aayega. Shane Warne ko puchiye Sachin Baby kaun? Aur Sanath se puchna Brian Lara hain kaun?

Garry Sobers 365*, Brian Lara 375* Fixed that for you 501*(3)c, now 400* Bradman couldn’t beat.

Call me Maan. Call me Yemaan. But don’t forget my Sabanite. The Thompson paranoiacs don’t know Clarke Middle and flea from CCHS. Classic City brings you back and Xzibit will send you West. Fabolous and Hot Boyz will bring you tea, Modi ji will show you off once burnt to a crips. Pakodi vali banaati Tempura, ek taraf doosri taraf Japani Quest Mall plaza. Metro Plaza, AC Market, Vardaan Market. Mere ghar ke kinaara. 

Ayega hamara security very good. Inka naam hain Barosa Biswas. Aur agarbati light na hua. Aarya Samaaji, tum ko svast zarur banayenge.

Dariye mat Naniji se, yah toh mere dada joh hain very Jewish. Dariye mat mere Nana se, woh toh Siddhartha Gautama ki maut fehle dekliya tha. Chor ko bolo, main tum ko maroonga, lekin pehle chori ko marloongi. Kyonki koy time nahi hain apne Brooklyn khel ke liye, yeh doctor saheb ne pee li. 

Meri Nani jabal Baitali ke saat banayi thi. Aur Amar Desmond Tutu bhi mile the. Amar Gandhiji ek aurat hain. Amar Nehru mehri behen. Amar Tagore meri beti hogi. Amar banyas amar jamadar. Amar banvasis hoyenge har President aur jaanvari ulta danga phaltu Rajas. Amar tamas höga Amar Didi ki bandhans. Amar Satvik bibi aao na. Koy treat nahi dehenge, sirf manas.

• Manas Siddhartha Sidney Gupta Yudien Musaddi Stern Lillian Lady Kusum Suresh Gautam Buddha Charles X

Dedicated to Ambedkar and Billie Holiday. A wonderful smoothie.

April 7th, 2023

For you, only

When we took our shoes the first time

At the temple gates

It was the beginning of water bending

And droplets in my hands

You felt my pain on phone call nights

But then all we did was moonshine under the light

We were not allowed entry within the walls

But we're allowed to stay until final call

You've made me better for what it's worth

And kept my wheels spinning beyond this earth

And shot me up and down the park street lights

If you've watched the bottom of my shoes

You know I got 40 licks and I've had the blues

The bottom right corner of my soles

On my right anklet extreme

Tell the story of uphill climbs

And a brittle statement that led to footstep screams

A passerby drove right on thru

And I would have been a dead bunny if not for you

I'll feed the children of Krishna, too

I'll home your animals like how I honor in my shoes

An uphill climb with a fleeting look

Of hopelessness and knowing an eternal muse

You art there for me in celestial orbit when I think of you

You are in my ears when I have nothing to do

You are in my heart from morning to start

You were at my family's mourning ritual

Of Karballah and Kusumpur and Kanpur, too

Of Noida, Murshidabad, and Dilli too

But kali peeli you bring me home

You sent me back in a plastic dome

For 500 rupees I paid the price

Of losing your respect into a motorcycle night

I would have walked the whole way back the first we met

If I'd known my lesson would be so long learned our second test

I walked back knowing not what I had lost

For in the sands of time you were not yet mine

But never-ending, mind, remind me, remember me

I'll be seeing you in familiar times

I'll be seeing you at the moonraker ride

The bumper cars, the bowling lines

The carousels of Saturday club

The stuffy halls of Cal Club bells

The bell hopping servants who inhabit my eyes

The sockets of my hips that tell no lies

The sockets of my eyes that accept your peers

To know you are peerless and I am deeply your dear.

With love, Manas Winfield

For The one and only

Meri premi (original from Bengal)

 It's been so long

Since I've seen your face

It's been so long since he called me great

It's been so long since we pushed those cars

Up hills, down yonder, to our great beyond

It's been so long since I felt I could yawn

It's been so long since I've felt the dawn

It's been only once that I heard your song

You've never been alien to me

But all I know is I just don't feel free

Jab se aap ki aankhein mein palat gaye ham

Aur dyaan me let gaye aur ek chalan me kadam

Woh ek parampara main kabhi bulunga nahi

Ki sati bilkul kharaab hai, kwhabon me

Aur zindagi na milti dubhara

Aur dubhne vale ped, na ugte dubhara

Aur koshish karoonga, mehnat ke saat

Ki ham phir milenge, aur tum bologi baat

The Heroine(s) I've Known

 

We met halfway past sundown

At the suicide saloon

I did not let you see the craters of my moon

Coffee warmed us up and all we did was swoon

The second time we met and the sky was our whole room

Your mother made us tea and we sipped away our hopes

She said you’ll marry this one

And she’d had you on the ropes

Then your Papa sent the crows

From the Eastside to the West

…And My momma always taught me you gotta choose the best

My father art thou in heaven?

Only German Hegel knew

You can read a million pages

But you’ll never misconstrue

If you’ve only heard the greatest hits

Of History and its tunes

Then all the Led Zeppelin you’d ever heard

Never learned you ‘bout the Blues

Because current events cut deeper

Than crimson ever could

and the red-tongued goddess maidens

Won’t ensnare fires in the woods

For a water-bender most quenching

Is what’s needed to keep the peace

But don’t be misled my dears

The typhoons are of the East

I’ve seen the paths straight out of hear

In the crescents of your ears

I knew my god was in the flesh when it did not sweat in fear

I knew that peace was love supreme

When I let it whip me bare

I knew I’d drowned my craters there

When I crouched my hatred down stares

I knew I’d wait another year to show the moon to shine

We don’t need to be reborn again

To know who’s born …. under a

bad…

sign

 

I wouldn’t cry because you left me

For that is whom you choose

But to question my reality, wept me in the blues

I do not cry because you left me

Nor felt the agony of heart impaled

To see the mass graves adorned in blue suede shoes

would crater me to see you fail

For freedom goes of its own Accord

And To Yoda’s onto Hondas

But the day you drove straight up that hill

The Warrior Peace Arized down Yonder

The day you grab that wheel and don’t turn back

I’ll be your journalist

Until that day shall come

I’ll carry your shoes upon my chest

You needn’t bear the weight of chiles

To be the most respected of the pack

Browner than Blue and Bluer than black

The wheatfields in Egyptian mires

Are whole-grained pleats in ricey tyres

And the world won’t keep turn another day

Till the farmers make theirs back

Coffee Cup To-Go

Coffee cup to-go
As simple as
A recyclable paper cylinder
Crowned in a plastic helmet
With one spout of an opening
as if to represent sea mammals
up late studying
Now tepid and more than half-empty
Easy to pick up
With hardly a risk of spilling
for any land-dwelling primate
By the gown of its paper frock
That not too long ago
insulated once-steamy
Coffee, by now serving only to
Advertise in bold font
a well-known author
Appearing in our small town
Who knows where
I don’t care-
I came here for the coffee
to wake up from despair