No, I won’t read your palms

Posted: September 7, 2012 by Himanshu Kaishuvam in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

When I opened my machine after I-don’t-know-how many months,

Messed Desktop

I saw pictures of your palms on the always messed-up desktop
— challenging my knack for palmistry to read your fate
But the orange tint of your hands, adorned with shiny little fur, slanted over a thick book on your bed
Then reminded me that I should not.

Next to the photographs was .docx file of a story
In which the protagonist cuts deep the region below her little finger
–craving for love and  in a bid to design her fate herself,
for some stupid soothsayer, hogging some prominent space by the roadside,
scares her of hypothetical death of her lover before declaring that she has no love life at all
But dies in vain

In a flashback, there was reverberation of our last conversation,
I heard you urging me
to read your lines, and I saying “sometime later”
No, I did not want to read your fate then also, and I never plan to read it
Because fate is not the lines that you believe is hewn on ones’ palms
If it exists then it is something that you never get to know in advance

Vexed,  but I don’t know why, I carried my laptop and moved eastward,
following the clatter of old ceiling fans in the other side
I chose the table where we had lunched last time
There in the corner, with a better view of the roadside.

With the slap of the door, a group of blue-eyed brunettes entered the hall
As they put down their backpacks a gunky smell of trekkers, probably returning from the Annapurna Circuit, diffused in the air
Compelling me to recall if you had any smell ever
But it was a futile effort

While I was making eyes at an ill-clad foreigner passing by
Bigger street urchins were chasing a small one
The steps in the hall intensified and fashion aficionados poured in for the party inside
But the SOS call of the child, who even did not know where he was, was unheard
’til he outcried the traffic noise before falling down and getting drenched in a pool of blood
From the window, in front of the crowd on the corner,
I could see his long fate line running across his  right palm, continuous life line with sister marks encircling his thumbs

Wearing a shaggy look that you may find odd,
I witness people and incidents of all kind
I stop by here and there for observation and experimentation
To fathom the depth (of my fate),
I have touched the lines and tried to flow along their direction
Only to conclude that you can inhale the air, but can’t touch or swim in it
Your fate is in your hands, but not on your palms unlike what you think

Advertisements

addictive you

Posted: January 24, 2007 by Himanshu Kaishuvam in Haiku, Poetry
Tags:

when i believed that
no one can separate us
i forgot myself

i realised now
withdrawal symptoms reign me
you are addictive

Seven haikus

Posted: November 14, 2006 by keshuv in Haiku, Poetry
Tags: , ,

A lecherous gleam
In my eye? Wait, ‘tis not true.
What on earth you think
—–

Perspective of mine
Is not wrapped up in myself
May not be calm though
—–
Libertine? I ain’t.
Will not disturb you further
Why to be  misread?
—–

Sensitive although
Why to harm the self? ‘M strong
No need to worry
—–

Amity sucks, why
A run away I may be
Forgive and forget
—–

I don’t need to change
You don’t need to change. Enjoy.
We’ll remain the same

—–
Time comes, scares and goes
This critic of no purpose
No complaints.  Adios.

Earlier posted on My World, My Perspectives