Dharahara

Ever since Dharahara came down

lip glosses have lost their lustre

I remember the first time I saw your back

your naked back;

but only half of it-

a sky painted with a half risen mellow orange sun.

It was a great day –

you would remove the veils that this world gave you in layers

while we were on the tallest damn balcony in this city,

Not only for the back, it was a great day for the front too !

Perhaps you also wanted to show me the brewing love in your heart

but Alas!

All I saw was half your tits.

 

Do you remember feeling lost while going up that spiral staircase ?

not knowing east from west, or north from south

With each ascending step, our confusion would grow

Perhaps you wanted to tell me how escalated our love affair made you feel

And how it was making you lose faith in directions

I pity the soul that hasn’t ever climbed Dharahara

 

And we have investigated each other

through holes, very much like the ones on Dharahara’s walls

What we saw through them, we had to it call something !

east, west, north or south ,

It did not matter if the names were right

We just needed a name

Like the times when you fell out of love with me and decided to call me a friend

Well, fuck names !

and fuck friends too !

 

Nowadays I pass by Sundhara

I do not remember you the way I used to

Even the symbols of our love have moved on,

or lets say have fallen down.

And yet there is something about the air that lingers above the debris

If I look hard enough, I can still see a nine storey ghost staring down at me, saying-

I will come to haunt you some day  !

There is something about the air that lingers above the debris

As you build your wholesome life somewhere beyond the wide seas.

I find a phallic ghost hovering in the sky-space where the dick head balcony once was,

where we would kiss and wonder if any one was looking up

and this ghost isn’t a ghost of one particular possibility

but a hundred lives we would have lived

And hundred deaths that would have come to those hundred lives

Those hundred lives lost and buried along with very real ones

everything turned to odd-sized-bricks

Ever since Dharahara came down

People have been shouting to bring it back up

But you see, things have already become asexual

I don’t find the reflective quality of you back to be sexy anymore

I can only remember your heavy eye shadow,

the purple going dark-

You looking into my face, like I was a misprinted ticket,

surprised to realize that you didn’t see – the dates were all messed up.

Every time I look at where Dharahara once stood

the stone in my heart makes its way to my eye lids

And I move on.

 

I wish no one rebuilds that stupid tower.

But as with everything the world has great plans for it .

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