Some words pissed on the head of history.
Some words took a pause
and looked forward to another day.
Some words took a bath in the river of quest
and wiping themselves dry
stood on the bank,
like neat and tidy love poetry.
They are now about to weep
in the poems.

Some words used to come
in dreams.
They are not to be seen
now that the dream has gone to sleep.
There was a time
when words leaned against
my shoulder.
They are not to be seen either.
They shoo away my hands
stretched towards them.

Some words sat closely on a bench
in a corner of the platform,
lost in conversation.
We can now understand their language.
If we now use them in our poems
there will be a sharp plunge
in the Sensex of the poetry market.

Some words are in the zoo,
some in boiling water.
some words are under the shade of teak trees,
some under the shade of a fig tree
waiting to see it flower.

Some words are by the pond
ready with a net
to catch the moon.
Some words are lost
in the vortices of the rains this year.

Some words will distribute
rice at two rupees per kilogramme,
as our Chief Minister has announced.
Some words are locked
In postures of coitus.
But many words keep mum
when it comes to feeding the hungry
or lifting the unfortunate to their feet,
making headlines in the national dailies.

I did not, in fact, need
these words.
They are, for me, too expensive.