Scratch A Rock

Posted in Where Nothing Rhymes by Bharat Iyer on December 17, 2011

He left no trace

of himself in his books. No notes

scribbled between the lines; no

passages underlined, not even a name

on the first page.

Look closer though,

and you might see a face form

in the mist: a smoothed out crease

on page seventy four and the stain

in chapter three that shrinks with

every turning page; an invisible

presence buried in a tear,

a crumbling grocery list pressed

 against a page.

The force of his breath

turns the pages,  a faint echo rides

the spine, before the mist is blown away

in a stronger current, leaving behind pages

that bear the stillness of salt flats.


A Middle Class Neighbourhood(edited)

Posted in Where Nothing Rhymes by Bharat Iyer on August 27, 2011

old people fill up

the park every evening

cotton pajamas shuffling along

paved paths, brushing against

trimmed hedges and clipped grass

once in a while they greet each other

a bit like prisoners allowed outside

for some sunshine and exercise

some of them sit on benches

in clumps of three or four

the men and the women separately

their conversation is sparse

and mostly unintelligible

save the name of some pill or affliction

floating in the slow summer air

others, of creaking arthritic joints

attempt exercises, their skin flapping every time

on calcium coated washing lines

and as the sky darkens

every passing bird looks like a crow


outside, the road runs putrid

with overflowing drains

and the wet air smells of rotting food

down the street an old bum

pees in the municipality garbage bin

he licks the saliva dripping

from his toothless mouth

his dick in one hand, the other on his hip

his legs spread wide apart

fast cars churn sewage into paste

and noisy children play with a ball

behind painted fences




Posted in Uncategorized by Bharat Iyer on June 22, 2011

I am convinced it is a primal instinct to drink till you don’t have a single penny left.


And then some.

“But the avoidance of self-contradiction makes great demands upon us; Hegel and Bradley imagined that we could know the nature of the universe by means of this principle alone. In this they were pretty certainly mistaken, but nevertheless a great deal of our ‘knowledge’ depends upon this principle to a greater or lesser extent.”

Posted in Uncategorized by Bharat Iyer on June 18, 2011

An Outline of Philosophy, Bertrand Russell


The subtlety with which connoisseurs can distinguish among wines and cigars is the despair of youths who wish to become men of the world.

Title? Hah. Title.

Posted in Where Nothing Rhymes by Bharat Iyer on June 17, 2011

it is not in fire
it is not in water
it is not in faceless rocks
it is not in the folded palms
and shaven heads
of holy pilgrims
not in the drop of honey
that dangles over a saint’s
painted forehead
not in the rotting flesh
of yesterday’s dead
it is not in the clouds
it is not in the winds
not in the pustules of want
that erupt on your darkening skin
where is it Yajnavalkya?
is it in the speeding car
that skids to a halt inches away
with a primal screech from beyond time?
in the blank stares that are exchanged
in that moment of utter stillness
the eyes at odds with each other?
walk carefully, brother
there is danger afoot

Posted in Uncategorized by Bharat Iyer on June 12, 2011

I don’t know anything like time-beats and metre

nor the arithmetic of strings and drums;

I don’t know the count of iamb and dactyl.

My lord of the meeting rivers,

as nothing will hurt you

I’ll sing as I love.

– Basavanna vacana 494 from Speaking of Siva translated and compiled by A. K. Ramanujan

Reasons To Like The Summer

Posted in Uncategorized by Bharat Iyer on June 3, 2011

Girls in skirts. And summer dresses. Oh summer dresses.

More daylight




Masala Coke


Coke Studio

Checklist For Becoming A Real Gentleman

Posted in Miscellany by Bharat Iyer on August 9, 2010

[x] Tweed coat

[  ] Pork-pie hat

[  ] Cane (with a sword inside)

[x] Cigarette case

[  ] Metal lighter

[x] Bigotry

[  ] Pipe {Should have one in a few months}

[x] A knowledge of esoteric and fatuous things such as the difference between a Mughal and a Timurid Turk

[  ] Opium addiction

Week #1 in the Box

Posted in Miscellany by Bharat Iyer on July 25, 2010
  • Plates will accumulate stains in insidious ways; you’ll find them in the least expected places.
  • The newspaper is your saviour. The Times of India works particularly well – there is less guilt when you use it for purposes other than reading.
  • Jat boys spend their day shirtless and in boxer shorts. They spend their evenings in their underwear. They can also often be found bathing together outside the bathroom using a hosepipe.
  • Jat boys think having long hair is gay.
  • When you stand outside the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around your waist, bucket and mug in hand, half asleep and harbouring hate for most of humanity (particularly the motherfucker who thought keeping a class at 9 AM is a good idea), seeing the fat bastard from the house across the road strolling around his terrace throwing his hands up in the air and laughing makes you toy with the idea of murder.
  • Cigarette cases are fucking awesome.

I’m Not Gone Yet

Posted in Miscellany, Videos by Bharat Iyer on July 5, 2010

I can explain.


The goal of every bureaucrat is to do exactly what his superior has told him to. Exactly just that.

The goal of every bureaucrat is to make sure that it’s not his fault.

On a completely unrelated note – Gotta love David Mamet.


What are you going to do about it *the most beautiful pause ever on film* asshole?