Beyond the window

Beyond the window

there was haze                / and dust

almost always.

the lights inside 

were not a threat

it was never dark outside

we made love in daylight

almost always

the roller blinds

the dirty panes

the hissing breeze

the bolted door

           were witness.

the evening rush

the honking cars

a speeding jeep

revving bikes

the rising smoke

added to the haze.

behind the ridge

the setting sun

a pair of crows

landing on the ledge

where the air conditioner whirred

ejaculating heat.

It was cold inside

almost always

till she hissed in my ear

tickled my balls

in her three fingers

a thumb and her ring finger

resisting the temptation

my lips busy

first

suckling her left tit

and then the right

as my tongue travelled 

in a straight line

over her bossom

closer to my face

she stood at an angel

keeping an eye on door

and the other eye

and her left hand

on the unfinished bar

of Cadbury chocolate

मेरी साइकिल

सबसे पक्की दोस्त है मेरी 

प्यारी साइकिल मेरी साइकिल 

       दो पहियों थकते ना चलते 

       दूर दूर तक जाती साइकिल

घर से हाट, खेत और बाड़ी   

झटपट से ले जाती साइकिल

      पापा बहना चाचा मैया   

      सबको सैर कराती साइकिल

             प्यारी साइकिल मेरी साइकिल 

सर्दी, गर्मी, या बारिश हो 

स्कूल मुझे ले जाती साइकिल

        पक्के रस्ते सरपट भागे 

        कच्चे पे थक जाती साईकिल 

पैडल चैन ब्रेक और पहिये  

सब मिल कर है बनती साइकिल

        राशन हो या कोयला बोरी 

        सब का बोझ उठाती साइकिल  

               प्यारी साइकिल मेरी साइकिल 

घंटी टरन-टरन बजती है 

सुर में गाना गाती साइकिल

         गद्दी इसकी है राजा सी 

         सबपे रौब जमाती साइकिल 

बिन बिजली बिन तेल चले ये  

धुआँ नहीं फैलाती साइकिल 

        प्यारी साइकिल मेरी साइकिल 

चैन कभी फांस जाए इसकी

लो, फिर तो रुक जाती साइकिल

          टायर जब हो जाये दुबला 

          सुस्त सुस्त हो जाती साइकिल 

जिस दिन इसका मन ना होता 

पंचर-फुस हो जाती साइकिल 

        खड़ी खड़ी सुस्ताती साइकिल 

        पेड़ को गले लगाती साइकिल 

               प्यारी साइकिल मेरी साइकिल

– राजिंदर अरोरा 

22 दिसंबर 2022 

The Book Shop

I am at the Mall.

There is a bookshop here

the one closest to my house.

The owner is my age.

And like me, is a quiet man. 

Unlike me, he smiles

every time our eyes meet.

Next to where he sits

the sun enters the shop

from thick plate glass.

Sunlight caresses

his wrinkled hand.

I can see through his pale skin

Where his veins are swollen

 He is busy reading a book.

The page reflected in his glasses

has letters and words, as big 

as the Meta sign across the road.

The light is tinted green

the shade of a new leaf. 

Trucks, and buses, and cars  

appear blue over grey road.

The men, and women, 

look flaky yellow, floating like dust

in a beam of light. I turn back

to the bookshelf, ‘Archeology’.

My fingers trail the 

uneven row of spines 

stopping to nudge a book.

 With my bent neck, I notice 

my crooked fingers, and the title

‘Bones of the Maya: Studies of

Ancient Skeletons’. I turn 

to look at… Don’t find him. Where’s he?

The desk is empty. Sun is sinking

behind the glass now turning blue. 

An icy hue hangs inside the shop. 

Sprawled on the grainy cedar floor

are stretched shadows of his desk 

cold like the top of a coffin box. 

Through the cracks a light shone

like a spirit he emerges from the vault 

Lifting the casket cover.

  • 21 December 2022

Our Calendar 2023. Mahsa Amini

ISHTIHAAR Calendar 2023 will be out soon. Our very special calendar is dedicated to Mahsa Amini.  The calendar has Persian poetry of protest curated by two eminent women from Montreal, and complimenting graphics. It is in solidarity with women worldwide and their struggles against authoritarian regimes. This is also a fundraiser for SAHMAT, suggested contribution is Rs 400 per copy. Those who want a copy may DM me or write to – sahmat8@yahoo.com OR ishtihaar@gmail.com