For D.M.
It is 00: 49 a.m.
and we don't turn on
the fan now.
the clock can be heard ticking,
and vehicles on old palam road
driving by, each has
it's own destination
unlike me who listens
to Bob Dylan’s
No direction home going through
the speed breakers of each day
like a rolling Stone.
and get startled by the sound
of crackers on diwali
much like the pigeons on
the window air conditioner
who fly in flocks
but necessarily alone every time
there is a loud sound
only to find their way back
to the balconies and ACs
and window sills, littered
with their feathers.
it is late.
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blabberings