Towed Away

By Aditya Malhotra

You wish an ageless, healthy departure

A freefall after a good night tummy rub.

Preferably with the partner hand in hand

Lying next to you,

If their closed eyes are rolling anti-clockwise like yours,

But fog doesn't drop like rain ‒

Lack of breath, blood and piss,

Intra-veinous incisions on neck, chest or groin,

Neatly hidden under the blue gown

For the best possible path to the heart's gratuities,

Face swollen, eyes clamped with stingy beeps,

Body billowed with pus soft as caramel.

The resident doctor hurriedly passes on a letter of consent,

Whose face is stoic as Krishna minus the headgear ‒

Not all limbs or organs could make it to the other side,

Depends on which chaff of a germ inside you is resisting the most for a change.

Perhaps, a chalice of forsaken sense still wants to dip and dine somewhere.

How the taste of ulcerated tongue, grungy teeth,

Can turn chattery hands and grizzly fingernails combustible

Is beyond nurse's muteness.

At home, the compressed sofa seats staring

the blank TV set, the ripped mattress under the mauve chenille sheet,

Secret ritual before opening a bottle of exotic wine,

Echoes of kirtans from your mobile rattling with

The creaks of the rocking chair,

All agree in unison?

Or awaiting a cure for aloofness.

By Aditya Malhotra