I’ll remember you
as the slow Akshardham sunset
that emptied me one final time


When you write a goodbye
with listless sunlight
on the slate of a national highway


and pull out from the drawer
of the hour this diary
fat with rancid dialogue,
confessions barbecued
on man-less JNU streets,
and the Rubik's cube
of anachronistic calendars


You bring me to the weightless static
of outer space or that
of a cheap room in Paharganj


Where the bindi stuck
on the blue-green windows
swells like a lewd story


As the night, twisted
between rum and ganja,
dies in a distant whiff


and as the world loses its balance
from crunchy chocolates
to neutron stars


You arrive in an invisible sky,
like a missing aeroplane,
and I’ll remember you, charred.

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