Poems: Salil Chaturvedi

Paul Cézanne, 'Bibemus Quarry' / Ibiblio

here I am

longitude 70^o 30' east
latitude 28^o 2' north (roughly)
in the month of October
         having gone around the sun forty seven times
but always, always, through new territories
in space.
         having been fascinated,
neutral, then disgusted by tele-vision
    and many other visions.

having broken my back in two places
        twenty kilometres south of a river
        six kilometres west of another
        directly under a flight path
        on the eastern edge of an old mountain range
        that seems to have tired of civilisations
        and wonders what the word ‘civil' is doing there.
eighteen kilometres west of an Air Force Firing Range
where they practice dive bombing
honing their skills for a war, they say,
but I think it’s because they really enjoy it.
about two hundred kilometres east of the Thar desert
but not so far that its dust doesn’t reach me on hot summer winds.

            having rescued the tiny corn from last night’s bruising
            having dusted wasp eggs from beans
     having spoken words of encouragement
to the okra seeds that have been in the soil for three days
having seen that there is more scripture in a bird than in a book.

BEATEN. PUMMELLED. PLAYED. KICKED. BRUISED. SQUEEZED.
KISSED. CARESSED.

today. now.
temperature 25 degrees celsius. haze.
humidity 54 percent. dewpoint 15 degrees celsius.
two hundred and thirty three metres above sea level.
under an orion sky.
having noticed that galaxies are displaying fluid dynamics
and that mountains are just waves walking leisurely over land
having loved, among all earthly things, comics, rainy days and radio the best
having tried, always, to give myself someone new to look at in the mirror

having tasted the resin of over fifty trees
having seen monkeys sleeping squeezed between tree trunks
having known that the truths I cherish lie
six centimetres under the soil

having been certain as sunlight that our toys will tomorrow play with us

winds northerly, 14 kilometres per hour. gusting. high tide at 11.06 am, 2.25 metres.
having understood that I am at odds with everything, including myself.
legs like sticks

FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE… and animal
HERE I AM! GRAOOWWARRRRRGHHHH!

don’t come near me i’ll bite you in places.

In my always temple

      there are 184,000 deities
open skies
         old ruins
       fresh expressways
mountain trails
            whale killings
                             gunfire
                               cricket matches
play schools
        feverish love
                  mad desires
quiet saints
          dance competitions
      discarded condoms
                          wheat fields
and ELEPHANTS ROAMING WITHOUT CONTEXTS

In my always temple
say cheese
          jet streams
                 forests on fire
bullet wounds
            shrapnel
                French kisses
full moons
     radiant sunflowers
           armoured trucks
                      space shuttles
thatched huts
and CLOTHES DRYING ON A CLOTHESLINE TIED TO A TREE

In my always temple
                 there are lost people trying to find their way
bamboo clumps
            bitter gourds
                   book launches
giant redwoods
              railway tracks
                   grenade launchers
sit-down dinners
           open-pit mines
                  algae
and NAKED TRIBAL WOMEN BATHING IN STREAMS

In my always temple
        there are animal-shaped pencil boxes
flower arrangements
                          radars
                             dance gurus
comic book artists
                    fighter jets
                          forested valleys
monsoons
        mud huts
and a KITE CIRCLING OVERHEAD

In my always temple
it’s always prayer time.

Bring some flowers.
wild.
blue.

Paul Cézanne, 'Mont Sainte Victoire' / Wikimedia