THE MISS-TAKES THAT MADE HER

I met the other day

On the road

A woman who was known

To have made many mistakes

And hence knew that

That road can be taken

And was even better

Than the ‘correct’ one

Because in that insistence

On correctness

Many lives were ruined.
Experience when you go for it s never predictable
Or dictated by the legalities, knowledge extends itself
Through transgressions and encounters with the un-known
Which can lead to pain or ecstasy
And when you go in for it 
Leaves the possibility to make mistakes open.
This is an imperative to the very process
And if not taken 
Will leave one stranded in the confines of boredom
And repetition.

Along with her

Sat that chaste and caste  neighbor

Who had spent most of her life

In cries and whispers

Sighing and ruminating

And uttering curses under her breath.

The smothering correctness

Could only be assuaged

By an equally voluminous

Flow of the waters

So that the blocks in the arteries could be removed

And a new day made.

TO THE BELOVED

 

I have encountered

You in different forms

And everywhere

And has failed to understand

Which was prior and more important. 

The merits of one shape 

Are not to be forgotten

But not so should the other one be

And the other one. 

 

There maybe people

Who could see their beloved

In one single shape

And wouldn't need another

But I am not one of them 

And could never be.

Maybe it is a crime 

As per the Criminal procedure code 

To have loved another, and again another

But I still have no qualms 

To say that love is no crime

I would rather believe in it

Than in the penal code

Or the hang man's knot

Or the burning hate 

That wants to put the other

On an electric chair

Or tucked off somewhere

Where it suits you

Even when it doesn't suit them.

 

So maybe someday perhaps

I hope to give you a kiss

Which may appear to be 

A bit transgressive and violent

At this point

But at another (I hope!)

May suit you too.