Film, Art & Design – Bharat Sarwaiya
20 Dec 98 | Creases
Hairless men, with closed eyelids,
sitting silently in a room full of unfinished, wooden doors.
This large prism, containing yellowing viscous fluid,
over this blue table of yours, is busy showing refracting small, green beans…
shaped like little fingers.
An inverted brown table, out in this dry grassland with fine brass wires,
to switch off cremation of glittering faces.
Doors with a picture of god with [a few] snakes like tongues.
Trapped blue flies mixing in the sky, with boxes shaped like other boxes.
Windows opening out to the street of fools, with red, swift latches.
Electric bulbs with balloons, fog, crushing sounds.
Dangerous little dwarfs with cross-stitched arms
watching every body switching on their wings in front of millions of schizophrenics,
none of who cares to die.
20 Dec 98 | Puncture: Survival
A man in an old blue car, behind the rubble of concrete,
stretching out his arms to disprove his punctured tyres;
Sugar crystals, over bodies with small dead insects,
reflecting the rusted iron bridge.
White embroided handkerchief,
resting over operating table with sleeping, unjust corpses.
News channels showing lines of dull reflections over pavements of empty streets,
recording every step; White men, with surgeons laugh,
concealing scary disfigured arms in huge,
long pockets; Things wrapped in red silk sheets, like television sets…
ready for a freefall.
Secret underground tunnels, with fields above dry without water.
Herds of men and women swimming there,
to catch hold every single raindrop before all of it dissolves.
Hot, boiling pots with mud houses; Net mending zombies with sown,
sealed eye-flaps;
Beautiful war with multiple photocopies stored away in every one of your drawers.
Hang it over the wall, with picture of your family,
… along with shadows of your chest.
2 Nov 97 | The rule of inertia: Staircase
A blank wall watching,
an iron tumbler turning into a gold leaf covered with few ancient pictographs.
Some driver left his mummified mother in the bus on his way to the valley of red houses.
Someone stopped tap dancing before a crowd of old men.
A naked child stands motionless over a flying airplane
and just then the opened staircase changed its color.
A singing clown gets lost inside a maze of mirrors.
Someone stitched back torn hands to their arms.
A colored landscape photograph burns over a broken toilet seat.
An un stretched canvas vibrates at guitar’s sound.
A knife-sharper parked his bicycle beside a red, burning car.
The green grass grows around the tall staircase.
Someone pasted a photograph of an eclipse over a wall…
already clustered with wall-clocks.
The tube light flickers, in front of the blue eyed girl,
with few empty frames casting shadows over her.
Teapot discovered its disfigured nose hanging like glue.
A goldsmith locked sunflower leaves in his ‘leather’ covered safe.
Invisible candle-box falls over the stairs,
burning window glasses and myself with red shedding skin.
A boy joined lame protestors on his way to school.
A lamp and large ballpoint pens burns silently over a transparent desk,
beside a blue ‘window’ view. I
ce cubes catches poisonous breath of the busy staircase.
Rule of inertia unfolds a river.
And god died once again.