Sadness and loving

I sleep badly at nights,
tossing and turning the dreams away
You were awake,
meanwhile, on the sofa,
in the other room,
surfing the net, or
watching tv,
or maybe even staring out of the window
at the huge beautiful dark scary tree outside

You come to bed,
I lie still, hoping you won’t notice,
hoping you won’t ask,
but there is some part of me that hopes you will,
and I can tell you,
that I haven’t been sleeping well,
not just tonight,
but for a few days,
not every day,
but sometimes.

I want to ramble on,
push my head onto your lap,
wait for the moment when the tears come,
feel your hand on the back of my neck.

But I don’t.

I hear you
change your clothes in the dark,
brush your teeth,
flush the toilet,
get into bed.

Are you awake? you ask
I’m feeling scared and alone.

And then I turn,
hold you,
kiss your forehead,
and miraculously,
as you feel safer,
happier,
so do I.

In Memoriam – Ram

An unpoem, for my oldest friend

I can’t remember
the first time we met.
You were a few hours old, I was told.
I was all grown up by then, a huge three months.

And later too,
I don’t remember the first hi’s.
No akwardness even then
like we had always known each other
from back when.

Don’t you remember
rollerskating down the corridors
the lending library on the campcot
the hailstones which tried to catch?

I never quite managed, although you did catch a couple.

Much older then,
were you eight or nine,
when we couldn’t find cycles for kids
when we tried finding the tigers
when we were at Bharatpur
and my mum called you Aditya II
and yours called me Ram II.

Stronger than any blood tie it was,
christened with each others names.

I remember in school,
we used to sneak out at break,
buy orange toffees,
and spend the rest of the day
sucking them in class.

You were the bright boy,
the well loved clown,
the happy-go-lucky,
never-give-a-care one.

Older, never wiser,
out of school,
you used to come over,
and spend the day, the night,
talking, playing, awake,
and we fell asleep after
watching dawn break over my terrace.
And then when you were leaving,
at the bus stop, we’d wait,
route number 137 it was.
And when the bus came,
it was always too full,
and we’d wait for the next,
neither of us wanting the time to end.

You vanished once before,
for nearly five years,
abroad – that where you were,
another land, and you never were great
with long distance
and neither was I.
But you came back -
nothing had changed.

But it had, and I didn’t know.

The beaches in Goa still await,
the drive around the world hasn’t happened,
bus number 137 still runs,
fuller than ever.

Aren’t you going to catch some hailstones
with me again?

Learning

you watched
as i typed one word at a time
so as not to confuse you

do you understand, a nod, hesitant

and so i turn back to the screen
point and click
wait for the page
(whydidn'tyougetbroadbandslow)
to load and then

there! it's simple; another nod, slow

now you try, getting up
waiting for you to sit down

no no, not there! there, there
impatience building
yes, click it… CLICK IT

o god, here, why don't you let me do it!

a nod, not hesitant at all this time!