Knowing someone is like buying another mirror for yourself
and another set of earphones, good ones
which let you hear distinctly.
After all, what does the bhatkoinya berry say as parting words
to the stunned silence of the fields sold away
If you listen closely, you can even hear
the sad laughter of old prostitutes
like swabs of cotton from some unknown mythic epoch
entering your space
you can hear Rag Jaijavanti on the ektara
of an ancient madman in the oldest asylum in the world.
You can hear the whooping cough of the prisoner playing his chains
to the rhythm of ‘jhan-jhan-jhan’,
playing on the rhythm of crimes done/ undone.
and then, you can hear the double entendre
of all the established rules
and the soft thuds of languages almost dead
Each word difficult
but strong enough
to pull you into the fold of the mysterious naglok, the world of serpents.
Deep inside the waters
sunk within these waters
without a straw to hold onto
slowly, slowly turned into serpent jewels:
Knowing someone is a passionate leap
first outside your being
and then deep within it
It sends out ripples on the surface of the waters
over the pond for a long time.
Knowing someone is to become pond, river, ocean and rain.
Knowing is a departure
Clouds rain once
trees three times
after every rain, when you shake their branches
Knowing someone is like
all things, forgotten,
sunk deep in memory
Knowing someone is