jagannath rao adukuri (nisheedhi)

jagannath rao adukuri

Frogs croak in rain puddles And little brown birds make/ Mothering noises over the A.C. outlet. My register is full with the details.

jagannath rao adukuri

A body is embroiled in a state of affairs/ A body that will one day be behind the glass/ Saying nothing in its pantomimic gestures.

jagannath rao adukuri

Objects are not sad, only subjects They have affairs drawn from objects Not vice versa or virtue versa Do not speak, they are not there

jagannath rao adukuri

The objects here make it, not me/ The philosopher sees light on wall/ A Wittgenstein, in convolutions/ Our own state of affairs is a state

jagannath rao adukuri

In the wind , the lamp danced on the door frame, hung by a nail/ Its shadow danced on the wall With a halo of rain-moths around its head.

jagannath rao adukuri

Temples turn dust, beliefs dust, people dust/ For temples to be dust hearts should be stone/ In the end both temples and hearts are dust.

jagannath rao adukuri

Every Steve bites his apple, even the apple of eye/ Every apple shall turn ashes, once the jobs are done.

jagannath rao adukuri

As words went, our hands went, our eyes went/ Our tongues moved, our bodies stirred slowly. Our thoughts remained on the dead, as if dying

jagannath rao adukuri

The day soon changes to a misshapen evening Awaiting night, beyond light, of a black sleep The night will be round in shape, curtains drawn.

jagannath rao adukuri

Outside, the tree stood bare and naked. Frogs argued with the bog interminably. The tea ceremony has started in our eyes.

jagannath rao adukuri

we bring pots of food to her on women’s heads / Dancing our way in crowded streets/ We wish our goats to join festivities, still alive

jagannath rao adukuri

I have to know my balcony from where I look/ When the man’s bicycle bell rings from below/ These days my name on the door is too faint.

jagannath rao adukuri

Beauty is a reality that lay beyond the body’s crooks/ In a niche where it all adds up under a petrified bone

jagannath rao adukuri

Let the existence of my body be a semantic fact/ Like his lack of body in her drawing room/ Till my lack of body is a similar semantic fact

jagannath rao adukuri

My ghost would continue to exist in this far/ As a mere shadow of a reality, just a figment/ That would create a flimsy semblance of fact.

jagannath rao adukuri

The morning starts cawing in its throat in sleep/ The silky song of God’s morning shall wait/ For worship flowers to come in flower trains.

jagannath rao adukuri

We had passed the bridge spanning a river of sand/ At dawn, when our noisy train spoke to its emptiness.

jagannath rao adukuri

We had left our school in the street/ Our home of angry smoking fathers/ And grannies in loving eggheads/ Seemed to vanish in fuzzy rain.

jagannath rao adukuri

Rain-mud spattered on black coats/ Surprised by blurs of passing cars, Their wipers saying no to the rain.

jagannath rao adukuri

We were two, me and shadow, against their many/ Beyond the bush and fire, a black- ash stubble / Shone on stones covered in dry grass.