Observation

What would our friend Sisyphus do
if someone stole his precious rock?
My guess is he would continue
his usual uphill and downhill walk.

I see him push back his unruly hair
as I walk endlessly, aimlessly, alone.
I press my palms against invisible air
Sisyphus, at least, has his trusty stone.

I Want

I am a simple girl, who wants simple things
like the Sun, the Moon, and all the Stars…
No! Do not smile till I have finished!
This is not one of those witty poems where
people say something and mean something else
Talking about the Sun and Moon, I want them
to stay put where they are, and keep doing
what they’ve become so good at over the years.

I quite like they way they divide their work
It’s the only way they could co-exist so long
The orange sun winking through the clouds
to wake me up, and then making the roads so hot
that I am glad to have a place to hide from it.
And then chucking my chin in the evening
to make sure I am not angry at it, and leaving
only when I am smiling at its fading redness.

The moon meanwhile hides somewhere in the sky,
not wanting to steal the Sun’s thunder; for even
on the brightest day there are people who admire
beauty that is subtler. When the Sun gone
the Moon hesitantly steps in, and willingly takes
a backseat if I have a candle or suchlike
You’d think being meek would be easy, but
the Moon tires and wanes, so we also have Stars.

How nice it would be if we could invite the
Sun and Moon and Stars for a conference
and serve them coffee, (iced for the Sun, please).
They would teach us management better than
ponytailed professors ever could. And perhaps
when we have learnt to be beautiful together
and give up dividing the indivisible skies
we would manage to get some work done.

Guruprasad Udupi

The comely girl absent-mindedly dips
a chunk of idli in the sambhar bowl,
while the awkward lad silently sips
buttermilk, and swallows a chilli whole.

Two tables away, the parents have begun
talk of what would be a suitable day,
sure their child will approve of this one
and feel glad at having had a say.

On the wall, the management's comments
are lost in the crowd of a dozen signs:
"We make all marriage arrangements."
And so caterers further cosmic designs.

Three years hence, the couple will be back
and order two thalis, and Baby will cry:
passed back and forth in its blanket pack.
And food will get cold while the poppadums fly.

Secrets

In Amma’s cupboard behind
the neatly stacked petticoats
your curious fingers will find
a bundle of crinkly notes

Not the currency kinds; she
does not care to stash
money, for in our family
we hide feelings, not cash

Therefore, good sense abiding,
you’ll put them back unread.
For you too have notes hiding
under your unmade bed.