A laugh is not a pretense
I wanted to tell you that, Urooj
And maybe to myself too
Because I know you saw peeps
Of the vacancy
Nestled in my skin
And I too was acquainted
With your queer sorrow
That rises and falls
With a schedule of its own
We saw the jolly winds flirt with greyed trees
And heard many a strange talks
In golden fields of youthful wheat
And mustard flowers alive

But we ran too, didn’t we?
I pointed to the slender tree far, far away
Count as I go, I said
And count you did as I rushed
Rushed clumsily on
My feet twisting in troughs
Eye-lashes fighting dust
Twenty, you shouted, as the tree grew
But I barely heard
my body singing a battlefield

You stumbled through the ploughed soil
Hardened through suns
Crushing the remnants of harvested wheat
beneath the flat soles of your sandals
(who wears those to a field?)
Then more
Through soft, chestnut soils
Trying not to damage the baby onions
And I laughed through my burning lungs
A smoke piled up in me
Yearning to gnaw all away

And we licked the gusts singing gossips
Of sour, raw mangoes
Then relished the cool water that
You forced the earth to puke
(I still don’t get how that hand-pump worked)

And I know you sneaked along a wilted rose
From your sister’s grave
And wept, quietly sniffing
Seeing her in all the birds I pointed out
All the leaves dried to immortality
In my notebook
I too treaded through rows of childish guava trees
And struggled to will my ghosts away
I too got stranded in the insolent rays
of the dusty sun

But we joked still, didn’t we?
And when, on the way home,
I reminded you stories
Of the silly children we once lived
Your laugh glimmered all around
And mine mimicked

And the radio was ****
So we swam in our own private silences
Got lost in the rowing birds
And I know, at some point,
All the dead days
And all the rotten mangoes
Seated themselves in the car
Along with us and our shackled beasts
And the villages and the stalls and empty fields
Ran past in silence

But we had laughed
When the restless winds nearly sent me
Tumbling down the tree
And we had laughed when
The freshly-watered soil tried
To **** us under
And a laugh is not a pretense
Urooj, a laugh is not a pretense.
I wonder if we know.

Keep the dark at bay,
there's creatures that reaps the village after day
The children are scared,
the town folks are speaking,
scattered around the village floors
Far away, the sound of cries can be heard
and mother's trying to sooth their nasty squealing
but still they failed as the littles are struck-out despaired
The farmer's aren't having it easy too
as they're trying to sort out their herd
Some animals obey, but still more cause up a disarray
Sweet sun, gone too soon as it falls into night
It's heat, the village ask for it in a far cry
Protect us! Angels of night and day!
Soon, the ground shivers as dark night befalls
creatures, hunting the village at ***** bay

Between the farmlands

there is a low walled green field –


with the peasant graves.

She glides past vendors of fried food as her bare feet skid across the muddy gravel. The pain of the gliding thread left behind with her shoes. A toothy grin and a joyous laugh switch phases like a sound wave as her eyes follow the kite carrying all her dreams.

There was a village
Called Ludnica in maps
Quite old and vintage
The population reached 100 at max

It was known far and wide
For it's weird rules
Everyone had to abide
And dress like white ghouls

Half of them were blacksmiths
Working day and night
Others had to submit
And were to be polite

Every once in a while
Another black sheep would appear
Some even hostile
Not understanding why they were there

Then the blacksmiths' work would restart
They chipped away the metal chains
Reshaped the mind part by part
Untill the sickness didn't remain

"Where was this Ludnica?"
You might ask
But don't search for it
Because it will find you at last

Village life, now not the same
Where the relationship is, it's not sweet
Where there is soil but no fragrance
Where there is a pond, but no water
Where mangoes are showered, but do not smell fragrant
Village life, now not the same
Here people are done
People got hungry for happiness
Villages are now transformed into cities
The villages are now dazzled
In the blessings of the elderly
Which was a feeling of affection
In western culture, somewhere gone extinct
Feeling of celebrating together
Burned in a furnace like separation time
Village life, now not the same
Where does man have time to meet man
Humanity and brotherhood lost in urbanization
The intoxication of modernism engulfed everyone
Love that was deceit, it became a show
Every person escapes for money
The house of faith is now a ruin
Village life, now not the same......