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As I Hold Your Hands And Look Into Your Eyes.

Every poem starts with a few words
and ends with an idea

that feels it is just born.

Or is it words linking-up within a poem,
trying to reach within themselves,

surprised at their own vastness.
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Lessons Inside A Classroom

Smiles that land and take-
off as understanding takes
cover or gets uncovered.

My ignorance gets
uncovered so often, I get
lusty smiles from it.

Look under words, look
for that stealthy smile that looks
and lusts for your glance.

Just a glance. Moments
freeze, become a past moment
that may, may not live.

Mystery lives to make
one more day be born. Veil makes
me tread towards it.

Walks with sudden turns
veil and reveal. A little turn
too is full of life.

Love is a creation --
and we can give it life. 
Without it we die.
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Panditji's Dhaba

Between the clinks and din inside
The dhaba where I go for food --
Used plates and glasses shoved aside,
As those who have been served, just brood
Of what happens when all's over,
When dirt is gone and hands are clean
And life goes back to as it were:
Ha! Ooh! Ha! Ah! Some good, some mean.
And mingled with such thoughts, the skelp
And popple quietly increase
The cook's rhonchus as if to help
This celebration of the ease
          With which each day reaches its end.
          Tired time tries -- but can't pretend.
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The Art Critic's Biography

A miniature watched by eyes --
Myopic eyes that watch what lies.

What lies is not always whats true,
For the truth may lie in deeper hue.

The hues, when magnified, do show
The show that none on earth yet know.

I know, he knows, they know, none know --
To know, we must be in that show.

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