Seeking Xanadu

"Self-Pity' by David Herbert Lawrence

2010-03-14T10:53:00.000+05:30

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

The little room

2009-05-28T14:03:00.001+05:30

A hidden nook in my mind’s fold
Home to musty books
And secret scrapbooks
Empty chocolate cake boxes

A mind fort for comfort in dreams
When the unpalatable bleeds through

A lair to burrow in
When virtual strangers come knocking
When sword-wielding pursuit turns too real
When the invisibility cloak must be called for

A cosy hearth on a rainy day
When I seek to lie in lazy wondrousness
At the inevitability of love seeking me out

A fort built several years ago
From dreamy cobwebs
To keep away the cold wind
That reflects in cold eyes
And even colder fingers

Soon,
Treasure cupboard turned
To certain reverie stopovers
Cold door open with warm welcome

Last night, I crept into the circle
Lo! the fort was breached
The dark cold had lost its hold
To sunny murmurs of orange life

I feared for loss and tears
I only felt a déjà vu

My life - no longer just mine
To plough through in secure solitude
But an open land to mine in shared luxury

The sub-conscious' verdict is in
The conscious mind ever a follower...

Block

2009-05-26T20:17:00.004+05:30

Who are you?

Why do you crouch in the dark shadows of my mind?

Do you wait for something?
Or someone to manifest from the creases of my chaotic mind?

Do you seek something?

Like I do,
Like I have always done?

Do you try and grasp flowing air,
Arrest running water,
Hold on to sliding sand?

As I have done ever since that day
When I questioned the mystery of the chimeral strands
Swaying in front of my eyes
As I walked down an alley with a bleeding knee?

Two burning ends of a candle

2009-03-16T21:43:00.002+05:30

On the first day
I walked over a virginal beach of glass
Burnt cold with the icy glare of a dead sun

On the second moonrise
I reached the edge of the red sun
Blinking tiredly over the yellow pockmarked planet

On the third rise of dawn
I looked up into the trapped eyes of the man
Draining his life-blood on my expensive Turkish rug

On the fourth burst of first light
I looked askance at the walking green
Lolling sideways with each passing twirl of wind

As the fifth day bled into symphony
Each red drip like the stealthy stroke of soft percussion
Each paper cut like the fine chords of the deaf master’s opus

The sixth day struck; And –
I wandered past the mechanical junk of eyes and limbs
Obsolete; with their masters long buried in decaying stench

As the sixth day wound down
I mourned the bitter arrogance of a youthful species and
Took issue with the smugness of old deities for letting things come to such a pass

And there was no seventh day comfort for a mortal

Random Walk

2009-02-22T22:09:00.002+05:30

A reflection of the mirror within
The wandering of the soul without

A patchwork of lived experiences
Filtered by the haze of time
Every road passed -
Every face faced -
Every shake of hand and nod of head
- A record of a life's passage

A detour into the garden of white lilies
A flick of the magical wand of time
A laurel crown over the golden swathe
Dewish temptations on the lips of dark angels
Waving red heralds of deceitful hope
Enticed by the righteous look of thorny path
Prodded by the drool of quick accomplishment

Fly Itch

2009-02-03T22:45:00.001+05:30

I could call you names
I will smile at your naiveté

I could rant about your evasiveness
I will credit your scrappy guts

I could make an example of you
I will keep your example in mind

I could seethe about absurd attitude
I will marvel at your obtuseness

I could rat out your Houdini skills
I will forgive you your closed mind

I could still lend you a helping hand
I will look to shield my own hand

I could yank the ignorant veil off
I will allow you to fester ignorance

I could outright dislike you
I will expend my pity on you

My Day

2009-02-02T21:11:00.004+05:30

I could speak of my day

I could speak of my...
Obama-induced envy of the Americans
Resignation at Rafa beating Fed X...again
Contentment at winning some scattered ODI
Duh! at Modi's misappropriation of funds
Impressed nod at a Black Republican head

Rolling eyes...
At hijack dramas by petulant boys
Of jobless men getting a hard on
From a misplaced sense of putting
The 'virtueless' girls in place
Of unfulfilled men in mid-age crisis
Ranting about trailers of bomb blasts

Exasperation at...
The air of growing impatience
Intolerance of fellow humans
Suspicion of all the 'Others'
The literal man-eat-man world

Distasteful awe at...
Freshmen negotiating like pros
Newbies = smooth operators
Misuse of womanly wiles to wash hands
Big round eyes and a hint of wetness
Rediscovered godliness; smoking jaunts
Clueless hierarchy piled under dislike

Pathetic self-pity at...
Being caught in crosshairs
Overdone sense of duty
Wimpy sense of individuality
Seeping away time and chances

Self-consciousness at...
Being caught in a phone conversation
Unawareness with five people in a crowd
All staccato limbs and scattered balance
Morally grey conscience and white lies
The unbidden smile that creeps on my face

Joy at...
The thought that brings the unbidden smile

Mind Dawn

2009-02-01T11:02:00.003+05:30

As the sun climbs higher
As the dark mists vaporise
As dark trees lift their veil
As birdcalls pitter across leaves
Nature's symphony in cacophony
Fine lines drawn in avian lyrics

As little alarms chirp across town
As light creeps behind sleepy eyelids
As sunlight streams past reluctant curtains

Clarity sweeps the subconscious floor

The Primal Beat

2009-01-19T21:30:00.001+05:30

Restless heart in a lonely quest
Drawing starry lines on palms
Seeking wavelengths and frequencies

Travelogues and random way stations
Flitting thoughts and hopeful eyes
Sensual susurations of breath on neck
Of warm tendrils slithering into the aorta

Triumphant eyes twinkling in the darkness
Undercover reactions to primal instincts
A million years of calculated expertise
Tactics and desires and the lure of the call

Happy New Year 2009 To All!

2009-01-01T00:12:00.000+05:30

“What the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”

Catpic of the Day

2008-12-25T12:26:00.003+05:30

Pitiless Gaze

2008-12-23T20:54:00.001+05:30

Discarded eyes of vision
Glued up souls of plastic
Hearts, a flea market of malice
Pickled intents of evil
Masquerading as last boons

Children, nurtured in loathing
In the gnawing blanket of hate
Mere trinkets for psyches
Willing to dissect out humanity

Rough beasts slouch and rule
Fate trembles at the cowardice

The silent collective fails
To be judged one last time
At the altar of avoidable doom

Clouds of Grey

2008-12-20T19:40:00.004+05:30

Shore me, anchor me
As I drift away in billowing buffets

Moor me
As my soul fritters away in pieces

Bind me
As each nagging word cleaves me

Be my earthing
As the same lightening strikes twice

Hold me together
As my spirit threatens to crumble as ever

As hot bitter words wash over me
As I drown in their disappointment
As the whispers rage behind my back
As my trickster mind corrupts me

I seek you now more than ever before...

The path shimmers before my salivating eyes
But the thick metal ankle cuffs hold fast

Salvation
Redemption...
A walk in the park for many
A burn in the hell of self-pity for me

The Dark Tower looks ever more enticing
Castiel & Gabriel - deliver me
The crumbs do not satiate me

Have I turned, finally?

Trace

2008-12-18T21:19:00.003+05:30

Mouldy wooden planks, a sad mockery of refuge
Shored bay windows akin to closed down soul
Crumpety droppings of long sundered kindred
Errant hairs clinging to a pupil-searing scarf
Yellowing ends of torn picture scraps
Of shining smiles, broken love promises
Open hingeless door drumming a mourning dirgy
Insistent as the relentless tread of time

Broken glasses trailing past the shadow gate
Crumbled seashells in the wake of retreating surf
Time chapped footprints walking into the sunset

An exhausted sigh flies in the evening breeze

Embraced in found-again arms
And sea-kissed to an inch of after-life

Dark and Light

2008-12-16T21:06:00.001+05:30

Walking beside the silver brook
Beneath a swaying green canopy
Over the soft bed of bluebells
Pillowed with golden sun followers

Snowfall of pheromones
Chocolat and copper kiss
Spunky webs and unseen tears
Scaly heart seeking anchor

Of two-fanged curses
And clawy reach of fate
Dark lofts and attic corners
Scavenging humanity’s filth
In the indifferent darkness

Times past and journeyed
Times awaited in hope’s abyss
Life-string as a puppet
Of desire and ambition

Of forbidden loves
And over-cooked angst
Like crumbling waffles

A tear drop of gratitude
A tear drop of regret
Choices made and abandoned
Of alluring and thoughtful roads…

The enticing quiet breeze lures
I slumber deep in the unbenown

Voiceless Wail

2008-12-14T19:22:00.004+05:30

She slithers down the broken asphalt
Blood pooling in its dips and cracks
Tattoos of scratched broken skin
Speaking of lost eyeballs

Reeking air; putrid and green
Speckled with fungi clouds
Telling marks of decayed cult
Of blanched life and sold souls

Of fanged mouths and dead eyes
Limbless walkers and tongueless jabbers
Misguided into evolution’s purgatory

Renaissance painting
On bleached white walls
Of round fledgling worlds
Ectasy and tears and quests
Pulsing enthralling vibrancy
Alchemy - potent and intoxicating

Broken down into thousand pieces of glass
To a final rabid casket of convulsing breaths

Bruises, Skin Deep

2008-12-11T21:47:00.003+05:30

The top spins furiously
The wheel churns mercilessly
Time slides past ruthlessly

Teenage dreams unfurl
New horizons tempt

Fresh floral scent wafts across
The night-queen blooms in the dark

Gentle star-light
A warming blush
Kindling spark
Ratcheting heartbeats

Enticement by an idea
Hidden lure of suggestion

Of lonely wanderers
In an empty landscape
Self-lessons in soul value

Priceless

Fathomless...

"Where I Does Not Exist, Nor You"

2008-12-09T10:57:00.003+05:30

Sonnet XVII (Pablo Neruda)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

NB: I need some exquisite poetry today. And Neruda is a great one to overwhelm the senses.

Overflow

2008-12-05T18:21:00.002+05:30

I think of you...
When dusk spills red
When the birds fly south
When the poinsettia blooms
When the stars streak the sky
When the moon smiles its half smile

I think of you...
When cloud wisps linger away
When wolves howl under dark skies
When black night blankets tired souls
When the creaking land sighs with relief
When the clock strikes the witching hour

I think of you...
In the passage of filled hours
In the gathering heartbeats of day
In the miasma of remembered caresses
In the supposed heat of meeting epidermis

I think of you...
My thoughts overflow
My fingers trail away
My heart accelerates on

Thoughts are all I have for company
Till I hold you within my passion wrap

Why Me?

2008-12-01T21:54:00.003+05:30

Red and deep wound
On the raw psyche

Each scrape of spirit
A body blow to soul

I can withstand pain enormous
I can survive belied expectations
I can live through broken promises
I can live out dispirited times

But these are the worst of times
And I seek comfort in empathy

I want to understand
Why me?

I do not seek to supplant
I do not seek to unruffle
I do not seek to replace
I do not seek to impose
I do not seek to thwart
I do not seek to inflict
I do not seek ignorance
I do not seek to destroy

I want to prosper
I want to learn
I want to work
I want to create
I want to plant
I want to offer jobs
I want equal rights
I want freedom for my people
I want to move fearlessly

I want understanding
I do not seek to belittle you
I only seek to enlighten myself

Then why me?

I harbour all
I may not secure all
But I do my best

I do not mind your colour
Or the length of your hair
Or the growth of your beard

I care for the smile
At the end of a hard day

I care for the contented look
At the end of reflection

I care for the proud look
You bestow upon your child

I seek to care for your heart
I seek to care for your future

For they make me
For they define me
For they will be my legacy
For you will be my history

This land, this people -
The aspirations and dreams
A land of thousand mutinies
A land of hundred living dreams

Cyclonic musings

2008-11-26T14:25:00.000+05:30

The speck of dirt on a spic saxophone
First autumnal leaf in the garden
Sour grape in a vintage vineyard year
Sightless in the gaggle of speech-less

Clauses

2008-11-24T16:33:00.000+05:30

For, those with veiled eyes -
Will count the thorns on a rose
Will see the half-empty glass
And dunes, not the oasis beyond
Will see malice in kindness
And threats in helping hands

For, those with Is -
Are like horse eyes
Fail to see the other side
Are like the sun at night
Fail to see the other view

For, those with egos -
Will be blind to brutal honesty
And see only the sunnier side
Will consider wake up calls
As betrayal in friendly arms

For those who forget -
Ambitions are pickled from sweet mistakes
Superficial friends are not for rainy weekends

Womanity

2008-11-24T08:52:00.004+05:30

Bright eyes still undimmed
Eloquent with undammed hope

Every blink an unspoken truce
With the world's aptitude
To pull down the free spirit

Each line etched in experience
Weighed down with careworn furrows
Grey strands count the sunsets

In the midst of conforming lives
To stand tall and claim due rights;
With no helping hands or kindreds
To sweeten each blow to wilting heart.

Courage to plough a solitary path;
Power of faith in one's own will
With dignity and integrity -
Defining passwords for life.

Antipathy

2008-11-22T17:12:00.001+05:30

Hilarity of the insular psyche
Mindless scurrying in the brain

Random throwing of the stones
At unfamiliar parallel notions
Just abstracts for linear minds

Aftersought...

2008-11-18T14:42:00.000+05:30

I sought a sought
A sought so soft
Softly slinking
Sneaking by...

"The Other Guy Counts Too"

2008-11-15T20:31:00.001+05:30

Steven Colbert's heartfelt comment on the passage of Proposition 8 in California.

Excerpts:

"With so much hate in the world: with so much meaningless division and people pitted against each other for no good reason - is this what your religion tells you to do?"

"Let the tiny ember of love meet its fate. You are asked to stand not on a question of politics, not on a question of religion, not on a question of gay or straight. You are asked to stand on a question of love."

"This is the only world we have. And the other guy counts too."

“So I be written in the book of love. I do not care about that book above. Erase my name or write it as you will. So I be written in the book of love – Omar Khayyam."

whirl

2008-11-13T17:37:00.001+05:30

For the world spins on
Reaching out for the shiny moon
With every gory sun that rises

Oblivious axis
Off louder tinny murmur
Clothed in satiny waves

Hope leaks
Trust clots

Make time for humane optimism
Amidst petering futures

A-Line

2008-11-12T08:31:00.002+05:30

I listened once and heard no more.

Candid

2008-11-11T15:35:00.002+05:30

I walked the glass shards
My pricked heart bleeding
Dripping droplets of blood
Mixing with dark dirt
Forming coloured patterns
In swampy kaleidoscopes

Dreams

2008-11-10T22:30:00.002+05:30

Broken helix of thoughts
Twisted strands of desire
Like writhing snakes
In friendly lawns

A single window open
All doors bolted within
Enchanted form on bed
Overlooking grassy floors
Riddled with stalking lions

A floor of white snakes
Like miniature tapeworms
A single black slither
Like twisted heart’s desire

Harken!
The call of the black
The siren of my eyes
Under the thrall of night
In the bosom of stars

Block

2008-11-07T22:09:00.000+05:30

A block of ice
A block of apartments
A block of cemented bricks
A block of ice cream
A block of French fries
A block of creative wood
A block of building blocks
A block of blank words
A block for blows
A b(f)lock of birds

This right here is:
Writer’s block

Have I Told You...

2008-11-06T21:53:00.004+05:30

Have I told you
How a lick of snow tastes

Have I told you
About desirable lonesome oceans

Have I told you
About the adrenaline rush of skydiving

Have I told you
About stargazing in the tropics

Have I told you
Of the wonders of a forest inhabited

Have I told you
Of karaoke freedom in a Japanese bar

Have I told you
How freshly brewed wine tastes

Have I told you
Of discovering in deep veined mines

Have I told you
Of the aroma of freshly baked Amish bread

Have I told you
Of giggles that come with rice and chopsticks

Have I told you
Of the gorgeous Belgian bikeways

Or the sheer sensuousness
Of cruising in Kerala backwaters
Of watching a glorious tiger stalk
Of a ride on a majestic elephant
Of powerful sinews in a serene Masai
Of the blue-eyed Muscovite children
Of romantic nights in Parisian byways
Of colourful nostalgic markets in Morocco
Of beautiful women and bronzed men of the Nile
Of awe at Neimeyer's brilliance in Brasilia

Of a world resembling the leaves of a new book
Mysteries to discover; Mazes to decode
New lands to be explored
New people to be befriended

The exoticism of life
And the elixir of joy

Multiplied when absorbed and embraced
In the cocooning warmth of your love

Last Gasp

2008-11-03T18:39:00.000+05:30

A decaying spectre
Odious green fumes
A scarlet haze
A red siren call

Chilled breath in heated embrace
Wispy tendrils of floating soul
Creeping through sludgey airs

Gaspy smiles on ashy faces
Streaked with crimson tricks
Gutless stumps on crispy legs

A wasteland of yellowed hope
Of crusty dreams & dried hearts
Of shrivelled angel wings
And scooped out trust

Of purple talk
In the nattering desert

Sequencing

2008-10-30T08:06:00.002+05:30

Of mornings filled with daydreams
Of nights of living in self-stories
Of lazy afternoons spent making wishes

Of shaking fists and tearful wrath
Of cussing Gods for abandonment
Of experimenting with the dark side

Of rueful confessions
Of misguided adventures
Of learnt lessons in humility
And dependence in freedom

Of walking a mile in heating sun
Of learning about Keynes and worms
Of tolerant theories of freedom and
Of prancing Minerva’s owl in daylight
Of logic and philosophy and psychology
Of the eternal grammar of politics
And the timeless origins of economy

Of seeking loves and purposes
Of finding both in unseen nooks

Of words and punctuations
Of integrity of thought
And clarity of reflection

Of satisfaction and hope
Of freedom in hearty bindings

...

2008-10-30T08:05:00.000+05:30

A whine on the wings of a boast

Hair cut

2008-10-25T21:25:00.003+05:30

Sloshed black tendrils
As floats on curvy blue
Felt up with chemical caresses
To emerge wiry and spiky
A pixie from a fresh sea dip
Covered in blue canvas

Gales of hot air
Chemicals on fire
Curling waves
And silken weaves

Pocket artillery
Snapping steel jaws
Sharp nips of angles
Unedified cuts
Chopped waves
Invisible blood

Yellow

2008-10-24T09:20:00.003+05:30

Red orange flames dance on
Behind a fall curtain of ice

Shy sprinkled bits
Detonation by callousness

Dancing dragonflies
On corpses of fluttering joy
Splayed rotten skin casks
Dried stars of crimson veins

Cold hand of distance
Fostering, festering

Fuse

2008-10-21T00:15:00.002+05:30

Pinpricks of light
A burn to quench
Dark's insatiable hunger

Echoes of sizzling burns
Splinters of a dying star
In the quiet gasps of the night

Above an imploding world
Shooting stars scar a dark sky
Even as a wish strikes through

Fragments of a time
In the passage of thoughts

Occurs

2008-10-19T20:32:00.003+05:30

The sinker twisting innards
Floating strips of eardrum
Dull drops of raw bloodlets
Tainting caramel slivers of skin

Coasting moist air -
Condensed steam or drying tears

Lost scorpion in the swamp

White disarray

2008-10-17T10:17:00.003+05:30

Little town brown patch
Little boys white dreams
Red tweaks over the 22
Elegant wrist swathes

Past dreams
Old orders

Instant coffee
Instant richness
Instant reputation

Ode to stagnant system
And kicks to young hope

New disorder commences
As an olde game flounders

A mirror to our times

Strayed

2008-10-17T08:53:00.005+05:30

Faceless
Nameless
In the grey alley
Behind crusty facades
Wet with twilight rain

Where They reign;
A spattering of feverish lurkers

Escape
or
Exile

That red -
A blood trail
or
Temple ashes

In my mind or
On the street

Subverted truth
Decorated truth
Plain white lies
In self service

Mind's release of endorphins
Quenching conjuring lips

Flu of Indifference

2008-10-16T08:55:00.008+05:30

A crispy morning
The air is stale
A rejuvenating bath
Water's stagnant taste
A delicious breakfast
Tasteless texture of food

Unstoppable thoughts
Expressionless freedom

Exciting times all-around
No sight of freedom
Of rights and expression
Of thoughts and reforms

No world for sane men to inhabit
None at all for women and babies
No space for thinkers of change

Time for no sane Gods
And insane religiosity
With just Mammon
And the dogs of war
At the altar of worship

We live; we pass the days
We inhabit this time
- Our only inheritance

What will be our legacy?
…Chaos and jellyspine?

We dread the futures
But too timid to step
Forward in time, in thoughts

Such spit and wildfires
Rattling deep-rooted foundations
And hard-built civilisations

The seeker wallows in cold depths
Craving for clarity of thought & action
Seminally afraid of uncomfortable truths

Where's the Third Eye?

Ifs

2008-10-15T08:46:00.002+05:30

Roads uneven, unwalked
Words unspoke, unthought
Smiles unfast, untimely
Glances unmet, unheld

Losses unlost unknown.

Crack

2008-10-13T09:10:00.003+05:30

The infinitesimal
Subtle tint of crossed helix
Slow motion drop of red
Rising nano waves of certitude
Ripples in the proximal
Anti-clockwise beats of heart
Thud-thud of active veins
Single muscle inflates
A half-moon forms on the face

Dot

2008-10-12T08:10:00.001+05:30

Off my rocker
In the imagery of shackles
How absurd
The venom of innocence

Tight fists
Clenched lips
Clipped tones

A litany of damns
Anger at the cosmos
At blurry lines of destiny
That rule so mercilessly

Karmic punishment
For riles of a life past

The dues are paid
Unwrinkle my brow
No more ransom
With each exhaled breath

Damn precognition
Hold of invisible threads

The waiting dots, darkens my soul
Countdown to a wretched deliverance

Is What?

2008-10-11T14:08:00.004+05:30

Ricochets
or
Repellants

Empathy
or
Mimicry

Virtual Pats
or
Behind-the-back sniggers

Approval
or
Advantage

Complimentary
or
Exploitation

Self-satisfaction
or
Air-brushed ego

Such are the ways of the world
Coded language of self-survival

No place for the naive
And the easily swayed

Ostriches, all
With heads deep
In the sand of illusions

30 Years

2008-10-08T08:37:00.005+05:30

A comma in the straight line
A semi-colon before going on

One more waiting room
In yet another waystation

Cheap soapsuds for my weary back
Bitter coffee for tired tastebuds
A couldnt-care-less uneven bed

Long breath of reflection
Of gratitudes & regrets
Of scars collected enroute
Of soothing hushes in ears

To ruminate and reflect; only
For an exhaled breath of time

I will linger on the flowers
See blessings in the petals
Troubles will be flicked off
Like lint off my worn jacket

The journey wears me down
The path entices and mocks

Pick up the bags and pick-me-up
Duty calls - a life to be lived

Coiled

2008-10-07T15:55:00.002+05:30

Vice clench of uncertainty
Late bite of the tongue
Constant flickering air
Underneath the windpipe

Thought-clouds in the head
Disturbia behind wakeful eyes
Ghost pain on nerve points

Crash of external vibes
Against dense hide of survival

Twitching feet
Tapping fingers
Shifty eyes
Licking lips

Invisible flinches
Mementos gathered over time

Tracks

2008-10-06T09:56:00.001+05:30

Green, wet and golden Chertala
Red warmth in deep Barbil mines
Dussera fun in heating Rourkela

Of missed buses in Bhubaneshwar
And unravelling vulnerability
New promises in sweaty Cuttack
Revered sanctuary of Ravenshaw
Gifting new lives and forever friends

Push and pull - a new perspective
Anchors laid down - visions clear

Onwards to challenging Dhenkanal
Afternoon mirages in Raipur
And cricket live in Nagpur
Sought and found in Bhopal

New chapters - Evernew questions
Precious life lessons learnt

Uproot to root in Bangalore
Both, pitstop and temple
In pursuit of happyness
Siren call of love and want
Answered, watered and fostered

Tales of lands traversed; never seen
Straight lines of dusty train rides
Voyages of languages and worlds

Forever seeking
Finally living...

Hide

2008-10-05T09:18:00.003+05:30

Swaying waters
Tempestuous seas
Black roiling thunder
Silver slivers of light
Slicing neatly through

A child of yesterday
Lost in a foreign world

Betrayed by the commonplace
Blinding maze of self-destruction
Abounding loop of ignorance
A mute world sonorous with hate
Eyes everywhere, yet blind to all

A sporadic reality
Refuge in crafted words
World's built behind eyelids
Of influences beyond years

Safe passage of savage
Yet wondrous planets
Mating strength and humility
Bonds of care and compassion

I seek to dive into valourous seas
Swim with mermaids and water sprites
Flighty and full of tales

Fly across unseen lands
Astride a majestic charger
Chasing the rising sun

My Mother

2008-10-03T09:01:00.005+05:30

Cast in life's wild waters
Lone girl amongst strangers
Sat alone with worry lines
In a sterilised white house
As all heavens poured down

Fickle lamp lights
Overlapping darkness
Reverberating thunders

An impatient insider
Waters come calling
No knocks of warning

Call it foresight
Blueprint of a life
Future foreseen
In swirling window panes
And infant muddy puddles

Worried whitecoats
Flurrying footsteps
Still silent strong
Legacy longingly coveted
Yet only half-bequeathed
To red squawking heir
Lone girl amidst 30 males

Dawn of awakening promises
Of strength and ambitions
Anchor to the lone sailor
Ploughing on coconut sands
Bordering long distant shores

Wick burns down

2008-09-30T18:40:00.004+05:30

The red sword arcs
Golden haze breached
Lynching by moon rays

Beady yellow eyes
Glittering promise
Amidst night crawlers

Leafy flags overhead
Susurrating winds
Caressing menace

Abstract flies over
Zen goes farther
As minutes rush by
The aging night wanders on

Count the sheep
Or count the ants
Slow burn of the eyes
And the heart's wick

Only guarantees
Of a forsaken void

Shimmer

2008-09-29T08:19:00.004+05:30

I would walk down
The darkest paths
Lit by dark honey eyes

Your low soft laughs
My northern star

Short bity hair
My only anchor
In tempests wild

Ensorcelled that I am
I will break mores
With satiated smiles

My sinful redemption
In sharp line of lips
Crowning teasing tongue

Hold my hand to cross streets
Kiss me under shadow trees
Bedecked in the light of cars
Breezing past in the twilight

Salvation in nostalgic nuggets

Flames entangled together
Searing souls long in search
With only metaphors for company
Woven on lonely longing nights

Dots of Thoughts

2008-09-29T08:09:00.001+05:30

Dry lands under floods
No more benign rivers
As all turn marauders

Seasonal lines blur
No crispy January mornings
Rains make it cold and damp
A chillier humid wet July
Warm December nights

Smudged circles
Straights for the familiar
Mazes and labyrinth
Questions and elusive answers
Grim reality of our worlds

Judgement Day looms
What moral sins?
Earth’s physical scars
Guarantee hell
Worse than Dante’s
No redemption in sight
Future is death for
Existential reality

No questions of forever
Seekers ever despairing
Thirsty souls
Adrift on shoreless oceans
Beneath green roiling skies

Where dwells the knower?

Flight

2008-09-28T07:56:00.004+05:30

I had a flying horse
With sleek muscles
And sensuous flanks

Dark coat and silver calves
With an arrow’s quicksilver speed
Fired off by a master archer

No hound could match her
No wolf could ever catch up
No pride could ever prey her
The fleetest stallion
Had not her heart and steel

On paths green and plain
Or covered in fall leaves
Over crags and mountains
Over creeks and dunes
No twisted path could gainsay her
Nor overhanging branch deny her

She and me flying by
Amidst a gathering of
Mouths dropped in awe
Eyes gleaming in worship
And glittering with envy
Covetous glances a-plenty

I never ride her for sport
Just enough for some grub
And to taste freedom chill

I named her Wanda
For her suggestive powers

In The Dark

2008-09-27T09:51:00.005+05:30

Sleepy and Pacino-like
Zombie stiff walk
A needle in his hand
Dead goons at his side
Trawling the streets

A little room
With rattly doors
A woman in scarves
With two young girls
Huddling close

A young boy in blue slacks
Kicking balls in the barren park
Some lads at the basket court
Flashing sweaty torsos and calves

Young women at the drive-in
Nursing Long Islands and smokes
Spinning talks of French kisses
Sharing the latest on men tales
Celebrating young womenhood

Chaos and panic
All a helter-skelter
As he walks into the block
Zeroes on the boys
As they scamper as mice
Away from the dead eyes

The boy in blue slacks
Dashes away
Down the path which
Houses his friends

I see them
Coming down the block
Chasing a kid across the park

I want to run
To try and get away
But she will stay
With the older woman
She will not leave her alone
And I will not leave her there

I want to pull them out
Make them run with me
But she believes
Angels will tread
Where zombies run amok

The doors, I whisper sharply
Too clumsy to bolt
Only a good rattle away
From leaving us open

Under the darkening sky
Danger and evil dead lurk
Paralysing good intentions

The women wish me gone
A final apologetic hug;
I wait for the inevitable
They walk in; I walk out
Move aside breathlessly; But I am safe
Dead eyes see straight lines
As they make for the inner door
I slither away, noiselessly
Bolt into a run

Me and him
Tearing down the blocks
One of them – it sees us
Panicked, drenched in fear
Finding air in adrenaline

He is beautiful
I never saw him thus
There is beauty in despair
In survival; in battle
Hope twists portals
Bends universe to your will
I will to live; to see
The end of this line; this thought

We are good; saved
By a swing of eyelids

They are closed in; in a glassed mall
Who did that?
No head nor tail to events
Only it was wished for;

A hand over my shoulders
My smile shifts the clouds
It is her; She is there

We are three; solace multiplied

But I left her alone
In the darkness of fear

She lived; it was willed for her
The bravery of the drowning

I watch alone
I would be sad
I would leak tears

But for the twitch of eyelids
The ray of light
It is morning
Time to consign
The darkness of dreams
To the closet under the bed
Safe from the world
Free to show me myself
In the freedom of the night

Still Life

2008-09-26T07:59:00.001+05:30

Do you remember
The frazzled young woman
In a forgettable sari
On the pavement, beside the road
As we passed by in a rickshaw

Do you remember her face
Expressionless as she stood
Looking blank and waiting
With a big suitcase
And a little girl perched atop it

Do you remember the child
In a white-red princess frock
White hat with red polka dots
To keep away the June sun

The tableau they made
Young woman and child
Amidst the cacophony
Of whirling vehicles
And stuttering sounds

I still think of them
Wonder what their story was
What or who were they waiting for?
And what came of the waiting?

And Indian politicians are still dallying

2008-09-25T09:48:00.007+05:30

on 30% reservation of seats for women in the Indian Parliament.

Meanwhile, in its last elections, Rwanda had the highest percentage of women in parliament in the world: 56.25% of the seats, up from 48% in the previous parliament.

The Rwandan constitution, ratified in May 2003, states that 30% of decision-making positions are to be reserved for women.

According to President Paul Kagame, increased participation of women in politics is necessary for improving the social, economic and political conditions of their families and the entire country.

It is argued that women's representation in national parliaments across sub Saharan Africa equals the world average of about 15 per cent, but it is higher than in many wealthier nations, according to Unifem's 2002 report.

Time to think hard on those whom we vote to the Lok Sabha. Are people's representatives really representing the people?

Dribble

2008-09-25T08:43:00.001+05:30

Have you heard of the man;
Who lived in the rocky pool
Under the dark sticky sky
Staring up at the dark dankness
Wanting in desperation
Waiting for the shining figures
To take him down enticing paths;
And when they showed up
The man in the rocky pool thought
They showed him blue vales
Pink skies and smiling pixies in yellow
When all the while; he was looking at
Smoky sickly mossy green marshes
Filled to brim with ashy dead desires
Through the foggy smelly mist of time.

Finally! A Credible TV Romance

2008-09-25T08:22:00.003+05:30

I am a sucker for romance. But it must be credible. Not the 'a body meets a body' and thats all that meets.
One reason, why I love fantasy and angst.

What an irony! That I, an Indian in a land of 200 TV channels in about 10 languages (if not more), have to trawl the internet for days and then watch German TV to see a credible romance.

So I say, Thanks Nanna for the translations!

Yet what does it say of us and our creative community and of course, the watchers, that we cannot create or demand a credible romance.

Or maybe there are several other works and I am unaware of it.
Next stop: Japanese, Korean, European and Brazilian TV.

PS: If anyone can lead me to some, I shall be grateful. Also, I hear 'Bones' has a good romance, that true? Anyone?

Raipur Live

2008-09-23T14:35:00.006+05:30

Deliciously snarky
Heartbreakingly blunt
Your exaggerated sighs
The twinkle in your eyes

I thought you hated me
For being boring and foppish
For my timidity and caution

Ah! What self-hate I bore
For wanting you to like me
The stray tears shed
On cold quiet mornings
Inside the warm quilt
For 40 days

An early morning catharsis
Oaths made on secret papers

Struggling through the Raipur Lives
Nervously seeing off midnights
Learning to edit fast
For edgy page makers
Fighting with headlines and deadlines
And precision over 13 hour days
Learning your craft
Earning a reputation

And then one night
You made my day
When ‘Do it like her’ you bellowed
As they cowered and mock glared at me

And just like that
For the first time ever
I was part of a gang; your gang

Then came the 3am rides
To the city outskirts
In a dilapidated Omni
Full of hungry, tired bodies
Two women and five men
Searching for hot naans
And fast readymade chicken

The truckers thought us insane
When we poked irreverent fun
At words, languages and politicos
And cussed every region in India
We, who came from Nagpur
Indore, Patna, Calcutta, Delhi
Orissa, Punjab and Kerala

Tearing into food
Telling histories
Listening to tales
Shaping thoughts and minds
Forming everlasting bonds
Over paneer exotica and Pepsi

Greeting dawn at the railway station
With hot creamy teas and aloo bondas
Watching people embark and land
Enough times, to be homesick at 21

I mourn the loss of those times
Those nights and dawns that made me
Freed me then, they defined my now
You made me
I like it and hate it
I have your precision
I have your flaws too
What irony!

Amol and Perneet and Rohit
Pagemakers par excellence
What trouble shooters!
Kshama – You deadline juggler
May your daughter be as naughty as you
Chandan – for the slowest ever editing
But say ‘Chandan did it’
To get any editor off your back

How I miss you all!
The Live team, they called us

Ah Manish!
This was all about you, always
Thanks for all the whipcracks
Literal and otherwise
For all the listening
For setting high standards
For making me seek perfection
Even within nightly deadlines

Thanks for the sunrises
The madness of nights
The introspective afternoons

And for being there, always.

Bereft and her fiery pen

2008-09-23T10:39:00.005+05:30

Hello to all visitors to Xanadu:

My lovely friend, Bereft, has a thoughtful mien and a fiery pen. Her latest post touches upon several strands, personal, emotional and the physical world around us. It had me nodding, sighing and 'et tu'ing (not in Caesar's vein though) at intervals.

Friends, please do go read :) And leave a comment too :):)

Thank you

Slow Ramble

2008-09-23T10:22:00.003+05:30

The writerless pen
Forgotten relic
Of a keyless world

Slow seduction of words
A-wooing over fires and wine
Language of whispers and sighs

Gifts of longing and heart's ease
Lost art of romanticism

Sensuality of touch
Slow dancing with
Wait-burnished anticipation

No ever afters
Only an unending loop
Of kisses and straight lines
Smouldering and soothing

Passage of time
Circle of life

Where nights are forever young
And curtains are for the timid

Wait

2008-09-23T09:49:00.003+05:30

Icy chilly winds
Across the swarthy land

Sun turning blood red
Night perpetually grey

a lonely pebble
waiting for kindness
of a wandering foot
to seek new lands

Folly

2008-09-21T10:38:00.012+05:30

Layers of ignorance
Building glaciers of hate
Loathing of the unfamiliar
Dangers for the ‘other’

Hostility and revulsion
Recipes of civil disaster
A withering society
Breeding self-destruction

Blood always the answer
To any and every stray word

Defenders become attackers
No lions among lambs anymore

Faithless protectors of faith

Lucid minds driven to ghettos
Hyenas hunt the dead cities
Where logic lies in ruins

Where are the poets?
The writers? The painters?
Defenders of rights and voices?

All forgotten ideals

I stand mute and voiceless
Watching my kinsmen
Harvest a world of hate

The rainbow is red now
Fires bloom everywhere
In my selfish world of I's
With the world shrivelled up
And thrown into the corner bin

Welts

2008-09-18T17:00:00.012+05:30

Roving days
Cosmic chaos
Print deadlines
Cold dinners
Cribbing and crabbing
About sulky copy editors
And tardy pagemakers
Tears over Darfur
Disgust at general state of affairs
Decrying India’s politics
Abusing Fair & Lovely’s farce
Disowning saffron tirades
Debating nationalism
Romance, envies and editorials
Dreamy sighs for SRK & Winslet
Drooling over Kajol and Denzel

Steaming glasses of tea
Cream soaked banana slices
At 3 in the mornings

Shoeing up for the hour long walks
Along the lake city’s lakes
Joining the many moths
Grandpops and Grandmoms with rudrakshas
Beneath trees; singing quietly of their Gods
Little ones playing racquet & hockey
Part of the national games’ nursery
All searching for the illusive
Refuge in the dawning sun
Chiming temple bells mingling
With the muezzin's call for prayers

Of crashing after breakfasts
Of milky teas and sleepy eyes
Waking up to rings of ‘lunch is here’
Of hot rotis and rice and watery dal
Giggling over the new paneer recipe
Made on little stoves of adventure
Warm cocoon of love and wantedness
A sanctuary as one ever wished for

Whither those promises
Lost over pathetic quibbles
I lost a friend; did I lose a well-wisher
Did my closeted ways make an enemy of you?

Hopes of meeting someday still lingers
I imagine your face on wanderers here
Your fussiness; how you indulged me

Did I hurt you?
I can churn out the usual
I am sorry; Didn’t mean it
But another love made me myopic
I was in the throes of first love, you see
I mistook several things; I took offence
How was I to know?
You had your own wishes
I wish I could grant them; I would see you happy
I am yet to see that beautiful smile of yours
I wish you could bless me with that once more

Have you found happiness?
Shelter? Kindness everlasting?

I keep your tokens
I remind myself to smile always
You see, they were days of such happiness
Hah! You made me feel young at 23
Who called 30-year-olds ‘kids’
I, who had survived alone,
And grew old too soon
Damn you old fart; to make a sniveling woman
Of a tough nut – once called the ‘Don’

Phah! I wish for tears now
I squeeze my tear glands; they refuse
I am glad; memories are for smiles
Lessons learnt, heart soothed
I will lean on them on leaner days

I miss you, friend
I mourn this loss deeply
But it’s only mine to mourn

I pray you have built a new life
On new friendships and smiles

(You will be glad to know
I am not alone
My heart has found its home)
But I wish for confessions
And tea-soaked biscuits

Tumult

2008-09-18T17:00:00.007+05:30

meander
wander
pander
wishes
strange
to console
numbed mind wild
roots; identities
placental green seas
plain mountains
flying horses
momental needs
fictional
virtual comfort
father figures
blood siblings
of the mind
errant tides
kicking soccer balls
create new canvas
a life anew
see the blood leech
life speeding on dirt tracks
leaking hearts
bonds fissured
hold on
control
image
perception
brakedownal verge
mourning
alone time
dusk of times
what could have beens
galores of ifs
forbidden taste
colourless dreams
parasitic kindness
helpless trigger

nights fade
nothingness
revolutions
earth round
black hole of
cyclical dependence

Chimera

2008-09-17T08:44:00.003+05:30

Like a blue screen
Playground of delightful visions
Of rolling green plains
Edging into dark forests
Where dwell the warrior elves
Dreamy vampires cavort with pixies
Where dwarfs mine the underworld
And overground, the peacocks dance

See the horse black as night
With a dark rider on its back
Fly across jungles, jumping brooks,
Swerve stray branches, threading shallow rivers
Long hair of sleek warrior and horse
Streaming banners behind them;
As majestic strides eat up furloughs
And the youth drinks of the sun’s rays

A butterfly wings its way on to the passing mare
To ask “what’s the hurry, fast friend”
The horse snorts, shakes its nightly mane
A tinkly laughter flows from the warrior
“Towards home we go: tonight is a festive night
The moon shows its full face; the wolves will be out
Sibilant shadows will scurry, scarred by pale specters;
Under the swaying palms, around the burning fire
I will lead the dance of watchers and white knives
Even as the drums shall thrill and strings shall strum.”

The dark one offers his hand
And lets the little being hop on
Caresses its wings; such sad love in his eyes
With a sigh as cold as the autumn breeze
Softly lands the being on the golden flower
“Ah friend, would that you could come to us,
Alas! The shimmering trees find you too flighty
Their ancient presence pondering matters weighty.”

Here the brave one giggled like one young
With a neigh and a “I race the east wind home”
The dark pair sped off deep into the forest
Onwards to the majestic waterfall
Shielding curious eyes from curious goings-on
A land best left alone; lest the ancients
Surprise us with a visit in our dark dreams.

I Hate Too: And Violence Tops The List

2008-09-16T08:41:00.003+05:30

I hate terrorists who kill innocents to sate individual egos: But I have no wish to bomb their hovels - made poorer by their lack of sensitivity.

I hate Osama Bin Laden for his blind hatred and for using his moneys to create more spiritual orphans: But I have no wish to bomb his country of Saudi Arabia – land of Islamic piety.

I hate George W Bush for his sillyisms and apparent density in foreign affairs: But I would not dream of bombing the White House which once housed Lincoln.

I hate the small-visioned generals and politicians of Pakistan: But I do not envision bombing my nation’s neighbour as a security antidote.

I hate China’s guts and efficiency: But my envy will still not allow violence and disarray on the streets of Shanghai and Beijing.

I hate India’s naxalites for turning terrorists when they could have been revolutionaries: But I have no wish to comb and tear down rural India. I would rather build roads.

I hate the saffron brigade for diluting and polluting my religion: But while I may wish them violence in my more frustrating moments, I would rather that they read the Bhagwad Gita to understand Hinduism.

I hate the radical Islamists in India for bombing Indians as vengeance against the easy West and Israel: But I wish no violence against any Muslim. I would rather that they leave the Islamic East to fight their own battles. We have enough battles to be fought here.

I hate the Hindu fundamentalists for becoming the Islamic fundamentalists that they apparently so resent: But I wish no violence against them. I pity their self-destructive tendencies.

I hate the Hindu fundamentalists for decrying liberalism in the name of India’s ancient religion and culture. But I can wish no violence against them for I find their stand laughable. I would rather that they learnt how ancient India was more ‘modern’ than modern Europe and ancient Hindu culture was more permissive than Christianity can ever aspire to be.

I am no temple-going practicing Hindu. But I am a believer. I can and will boast that if any Indian God or Goddess were to come down now: they will find me more Hindu than the preaching men in saffron.

Just like wearing the Gandhi cap does not a pious politician make and wearing a Nehru jacket bestows no Nehruvian sophistication, wearing saffron and tilak gives the wearers no right as defenders of my religion.

I can so hate some more. There are always enough dense fools to hate on. But I do not wish to hate.

I will love. No, not my Gods. I will love the next person. I will love you. I do not know you. But I wish to know you. I wish to listen to you. I may or may not like what I hear. But I will listen without interrupting you. I will tell you about my culture, my roots, and I will listen to you about yours.

I am different from you. I will welcome the difference. I will dwell on the difference between us. I will discard what I do not like in you and me. And embrace, even sheepishly, what is healthy in you and me.

I will debate and grow angry with you, but I will admit that I learnt from you and I will credit you for teaching me. I will celebrate you. For your and mine differences will teach me to indulge the other person.

I will be no rock. I aim to be a sponge.

And this will be my way of truly honouring my Gods. For they taught salvation lay in knowledge.

Osmosis is knowledge. I will seek osmosis.

In seeking osmosis, I will discard the blindfold of hate.

Woes, Unhinged

2008-09-16T08:14:00.002+05:30

The recent bomb blasts in various Indian cities have me worried.

I worry for the future of my extremely flawed, yet still, much beloved nation. I love my country, even though increasingly, there are fewer and fewer credits against its name.

But more than the ravings of these twisted minds, what worries me is the increasing religious intolerance amongst my countrymen.

Today, when I say “ravings of these twisted minds” it can mean any one of these:
a. so-called vengeful extremist Islamic elements
b. so-called ‘righteously outraged over conversions’ violent Hindu mobs
c. so-called ‘violently seeking our share of the national pie’ naxalites
d. so-called ‘protecting the honour of mother languages’ extortionist elements
e. so-called ‘protecting age-old culture by curbing creative instincts’ extremist Hindus
f. so-called ‘offering a plank to the powerless’ power-leeching politicians

And let us not even venture into the realm of gender bias and anti-women tendencies.

Everyone is an enforcer in today’s India. Enforcers with limited mandates and individual agendas, who toy with sensibilities and sensitivities.

And we, the spineless, stand and watch it all.

I can close my eyes and pretend that I did not hear and see anything.
I can crawl inward into that warm and fuzzy place in my mind and pretend to be indifferent.
I can trawl through the internet and seriously think of migrating to a different land with at least different problems.
I can hear and watch everything and say, “as long as that is not me”, I am fine.
I can bemoan my country’s spiritual and philosophical decline for an hour and then trumpet my country’s raised economical profile for days to blind myself to such decline.
I can ignore all these and console myself with cricket.
And when that fails, I have dreamy Bollywood.

But once the lights go up on scrunched popcorn holders and empty cola bottles, naked reality is all that remains under the heating sun.

Bottomline: Will more of us give in to the reality of oppressive and seemingly powerful zealots or will more of us dig in our heels in favour of the much short-changed liberal way of life.

The answers to this will make or break India, my much maligned, yet much beloved country.

A Wow for Palin...err...Fey

2008-09-15T08:52:00.012+05:30

If I didnt know Tina Fey, I could have easily mistaken her to be Republican Veep candidate Sarah Palin in this skit on NBC's Saturday Night Live (SNL).

An amazing sketch!
Tina Fey, the “30 Rock” creator, and Amy Poehler are absolutely spot on as Palin and Hillary.

Global Warming
Poehler (Hillary): "...is caused by man."
Fey (Palin): "...is just God hugging us closer!"

Foreign Policy
Poehler (frustrated Hillary): "...diplomacy should be the cornerstone of any foreign policy."
Fey (Palin): "..And I can see Russia from my house."

Poehler (Hillary): "I disagree with the Bush Doctrine."
Fey (Palin): "I don't know what that is!"

Poehler (Hillary): "I didn't want a woman to be president, I wanted to be president."

Campaign Joke:
Fey (Palin): It reminds me of a joke we tell in Alaska…
Poehler (Hillary): Oh boy.
Fey (Palin): What’s the difference…
Poehler (Hillary): Lipstick.
Fey (Palin): …between a hockey mom
Poehler (Hillary): Lipstick.
Fey (Palin): …and a pitbull?
Poehler (Hillary): Lipstick.
Fey (Palin): Lipstick.
Poehler (Hillary): There ya’ go.

Fey and Poehler are both SNL stars.

Feminism & Canned Biscuits

2008-09-14T09:13:00.005+05:30

Who is this Elroy Riggs of the Central Kentucky News Journal?

Recently, Riggs wrote a laughably detestable piece drawing a connection between canned biscuits and increased divorce rates in the USA. Riggs vehemently advises women to get down to baking homemade biscuits if they are to keep their husbands and boyfriends.

So much for the decades-long socio-economical debate when apparently, the answer lay innocently in every kitchen. Heh

I snorted at a poster's comment here that there was homemade biscuits in the "good old days" of Riggs precisely because divorce was not an option then: No wonder men in the 19th century had a high mortality rate.

*Insert: some more snorts

I rather suspect that men (actually just about anyone) would run away faster if they are served all those carb-dripping heavies every morning.

*Blah* *Bleh* *Bluh*

Weigh Happy!

2008-09-13T14:05:00.002+05:30

Random Trivia: Just because I must. *giggles*

Oh aye :) Please indulge

Took my folks to the hospital for a regular blood pressure check-up (normal, in both cases) and my eyes lit up on seeing the weighing scale :) Well…I scampered up onto it with all the anticipation and tentativeness of a first date.

And I got off it with all the satisfaction of a first kiss done just like the webzines advised.

Ahem...

So, I am happy to report that I have now officially managed to maintain my weight for about two months. The last time I weighed myself was in July 2008: It was a day of almost silly gloating and self-congratulations for my weight then proved that I had lost 15 kgs in exactly 12 months.

So I am happy to be still sticking around. Especially as I was not sure with Onam and its defining Onasadya (the Onam Feast) just the day before :)

I would ideally have loved to see a consistent drop every month – but I know that realistic expectations brought me to this point: I must continue to regularly eat nutritiously, sprinkled with indulgent rewards for self-discipline. That’s the part I love unconditionally.

My ideal weight would be another 8kgs less. I know I will walk that bridge one day soon (by mid-May, maybe) *giggle-giggle*

Runs off to hide the bubbling hysterics into the pillow

Say So?

2008-09-13T10:32:00.006+05:30

Prejudice is like that.

It hinges so much on Impressions.

And so, I cannot expect you to understand my decision. To ask you to do that would be to indulge my prejudice.

Yet, I must defend myself.

My decision was hardly based on an isolated circumstance. Though I wish I had granted myself that luxury. I might too, if I was even a mite less self-critical but you see, I cannot afford that. After all, it is the fuel on which my empty tank propels itself.

Also remember that the decision lay with the subject of your sympathies. If an option freely given was rejected: tough luck. Though I do agree with your observations and would extend my sympathies along with heartfelt gratitude, I do not agree that it was some cruel twisted deed forced upon.

But you will not see it that way.

For just like all my decisions are a combination of what colours drip on my personal canvas, your viewpoints are coloured by thoughts that swim your way.

I will grant you that.

I can hardly do otherwise.

It need not mean that I am swayed by your observations. I cannot be.

Our prejudices are two opposing river banks.

And I, at least, will continue my jagged journey on the outside of popular consciousness.

Onasadya

2008-09-12T21:40:00.008+05:30

Red fury of inji curry
Tangy ripe yellow pullisheri
A dollop of mellow dal
Over pristine boiled rice

Sombre avial potpourri
Teasing the senses
Subtle sambar
Enflaming them further

A lick of mango pachadi
For some verbotein pleasure

Dash of spice-drenched
Lemons and raw mangoes
To rouse hidden desires

Jaggery-coated chips
Soft moon stuffings
To douse inflamed fires

Only to slow kindle them
To a raging fire
With a lick of sensual prathamam

A warm day; a gladden day
Ushered with flowers
Heralded with deepams
The sangam of sensuality
And kinly solidarity

From a gentle land; of
Devotees and warriors
For a kindly sovereign

A rich banquet
Of coconut blessings
On fresh green leaves

To celebrate nature's bounty
And honour a King banished.

Squished Cream & Auto

2008-09-11T22:22:00.004+05:30

Fresh mangoes with cream
Chocolate dipped mousse
Cool raindrops
Velvet promises

A curl in the bed
A book’s keen sanctuary
Slow cruise on water film
Wind in my face

Shwooshing rain
Exploding puddles

Violent curses
Vengeance bent
Blind peril
Rushing fate

Wide eyes
Held breath
Braced crash
Squished cream

Stunned silence
Broken hand
Frantic screams
Smashed auto

Spilt delight on asphalt
Mourned unconditionally

Life, Primeval

2008-09-10T20:26:00.002+05:30

The throbbing rhythm
Of the bongo
And the drums
Thrumming of the strings wild
Straining against clasps

The rich throaty velvet chants
Blending to ancient cadences
Woven into silken strands
Creating life elemental

A menacing purr
A feral growl
A perilous hiss
Soft padding of the pride
All - stalking and staking

In the gathering doom
The ancients walk
But no song of pixies and faeries
Of mettlesome gnomes
Will grace the withering wood

The old trees awaken
With a thirst to quench
A lifetime to avenge
Kindness repaid with extinction

The thumps and rustles
Enliven the twilight rich forest
The eyes seek you out
The ears will hear you
In the frightful silence

The pulsing fear
The goosebumps
Blossoming up the spine
Thoughts of the unknown

How fast can you run?
But where will you hide?
Will the dark soggy caves
Enough to comfort you

Will you harken to strangers
Quick to smile; slow to veil wicked leers
Armed with counterfeit humanity

The uncanny labyrinth lures
The churning seas rumble
Crashing waves, lashing
Against tall cliffs

The call goes forth
The doom beckons
The Gods come down
For the reckoning
Of a cowardly race

Quest Answered

2008-09-09T08:14:00.001+05:30

I slide sideways through days
Fantasies bred on each interesting face
A romance crafted on every bus ride
When handsome men hold my hand
Gorgeous sleek bodies rub against me
Nerds in glasses stumble over jokes
In a pointless effort at flirtation

Pretense, easy armour
Against the crackling solitude
Found only in crowds

Practiced deception, a priceless asset
When trawling across chat rooms -
An irrevocable asylum
For the bashful and reticent
Meeting faceless faces
Made painless, by the cloak
Of invisibility and distance

Yet courage cannot deny
Failed passes and loathsome leers
Making night’s reality more biting

I was the cycle of day
The chicken-and-egg debate
The serpent eating its own tail
A catch-22 growing ever perilous
Increasingly, I was the shell
Of a life measured by the sun

Into this mire
And cramped cubicles
You waltzed in with easy grace
Armed with a toothy smiley
And perfect spellings
Meeting my wicked thrusts
With a cheeky parry of your own
Answering my droll humor
With your own class of absurdity
Infusing a hopeful perspective
Into my world-weary views

Miracle or gift
Or plain coincidence?

Hundreds of sunrises later,
I still ask the dark night
Did you know me -
In simpler worlds and gentler times?

When love was not a
Siege and surrender playstation

When souls sought mates
Without concern for symmetry

When love was warmly held hands
And sweaty intertwined limbs
Of rippling sinews
And heaving flanks
Sweet and tangy explorations
Mantras of nips and kisses
Skin bitten and blessed
Caressed curves
And worshipped mounds
Primeval rhythm aspired
In the echoes of primal desires
And love disguised is bared
When in passion’s thrall
You seek me and anchor me;
A harbour for my heart
In your molten embrace

Doubts

2008-09-08T19:30:00.003+05:30

A black sun, propped
Upon soggy clouds
Overlooking -
Shallow paths
Bogs on either side
Tall dark gates behind
Reaching out to spiky branches
Covered with slithering dark moss
Dripping down to the moat below
Filled with heaving scabby forms
From which peek jaundiced eyes
And gurgling hollow hums sound
Unbroken and Unshaken
Where no wind blows, Unless
It be the reeky breath of doubt

No fluttering of wings, big and small
No rustling leaves break the weave
Of the unending vapor
Cloaked in perpetual silence
The air chokes and clogs
Every pore and stoma
Each exhale stifling the air further
The inevitable karmic cycle endures.

The Wanderer

2008-09-07T19:29:00.003+05:30

The dark traveller
Across brown dusty paths
Stumbles enshrouded
In his aura of darkness
Cowed down
Under hope’s burden
Dreamy youth to brooding man
In one well-meant
Yet deceitful stroke

Ties of distant blood shred
Favoured bonds and heart’s brothers
Prematurely forsaken
Renouncing light and scholars
Cool gardens and libraries resigned
For the sharp cold of sword and dagger
With dark stingy spaces for refuge
To champion
A distant peoples’ destiny
To defend and shield unknown kin
Lambs to his unworthy shepherd

Landscapes known and familiar
Mocking him and his loneliness
Mountains, once misty and adventurous
Now, inhospitable
And lair of unfriendly eyes
Every crossed pass and peak
Rivulets and swaying canopies
Swampy hamlets and short-lived plains
Slow slashes in his calm veneer.

Lips, where laughter once reigned
Now bitter abode to anger and fear
Grieving over paths forever veiled

Yet honourable and sure
His broken heart stayed
Overriding aches and regrets
Honouring sacred pledges
Onward he trode grimly
To face his fell destiny

Ivy

2008-09-05T22:03:00.006+05:30

Fairies in the windflower
Whisper of the primrose
Bloom of first love
Innocent as buttercups

At Hyacinth’s altar
Beloved of Apollo
I gather thyme
And rainbow iris
Heartsease
Crowned with white carnations

I sing of Hera and Eve
And bespell thee
To be the Endymion
To my Selene.

I gift you
My aching heart
Wrapped in red carnations

Praised be the honey suckle
Of your passion clinch
As your violet heart
Weaves iridiscent enchantment
To colour my dreams wild

Then, November shall sing
Of forget-me-nots
And hopeful snowdrops
Joy of the mountains
And dew of the sea

If your heart be not swayed
If the faery spells fail
And mandrake banish my plea

I will send you
The good luck heathers
And slip into breath's mist
To answer Luna's call
Follow the sho yu’s lure
And wander the hidden valley
With the ephemeral lily
Across the span of time

Ehem

2008-09-05T12:00:00.005+05:30

Saccharine sweetness
Sung on a potent night
While beguiled
And enfolded
In a fiery haze

Turns,
Embarrassing to recount
Once
Unspelled
In conscious light

The Call

2008-09-04T20:11:00.006+05:30

Of
The
twinkle in your eyes
Your impish chuckle
Your throaty laugh
Your humorous ripostes
Your cheeky wit

The sensuous curl of your lips
The warmth of your clinch
Your dulcet whispers
And incandescent presence

The assurance you engender
The ardor you stimulate
The lofty ambitions you kindle
The earthy passions you rouse

The clichés you ever justify
Leaving me love addled
Buffeted amidst the waves of passion
Thrilling my molten core
Stoking my fiery soul

My lone wolf
Mated with your stallion heart
Runs free and wild
Through the mighty forest
Under the full moon’s grace
To heed the sea’s Joyous call

Coffee Lode

2008-09-04T10:32:00.002+05:30

Frozen by ac winds
Buffeted by prickly shivers
Shackled by frosted fingers
The cold soul simpered
And sought a saviour warm.

The soundless cry
Crawled
Across the unfeeling hearts
To whisper and conspire
With Bereft

Who with a flick
Conjured up a genial genie
To traverse bogs
And scale steps
And bring the warmest brown brew.

To defrost
And revivify
To free the warm blood course.

The blues are gone
Vivid hues reign
Friend, you are hailed!

Loops

2008-09-03T20:08:00.004+05:30

Blundering
Stuttering
Stumbling
Trialing
With destructive naivety
Through the morass of life.

Foolishness
Simplicity
Failure
Couched in unfelt innocence

Existential futility
Romantic pedestals
Lofty ideals
Angsty breaths
Psychedelic dreams
Green ambitions

Only for
An interlude of reality
To restate
Life is no novel
Just an Indian road
Ever breaking
Ever building
Ever potholing
Ever puddling
Ever laking
Ever splashing

Raising trust
With every dawn

Only to tear down the romance of life
Once the fiery orb scales the high sky.

Thinkdeep

2008-09-03T14:15:00.002+05:30

The Cynic Answered

2008-09-02T21:11:00.004+05:30

A bitter betrayal
Knife in a friend's sleeve
Stab in the back
A gutted heart.

What price confidences
When confidants turn knaves.

A petition
A heartfelt entreaty
Your way is ever your way
Let not the world
Impinge/breach
your soul fortress.

Experiences -
Lessons in trust
And discretion
And choices
Ever fortifying
And guiding

Proud of each scar dealt
Life lessons learnt
Own intentions well-meant.

With your clear heart
Leave turncoats with bitterness
Deal them no dime nor nickel
They shall ever be the losers
Of your shining regard.

Price your heart
Believe, heart's prizes are ever won
Even in cynical todays.

Oh Woe

2008-09-01T22:17:00.006+05:30

Bandhs of life and death
Fires and venom
Blood and bitterness
As wolves drawn
To the blood in the moon

A fight undertaken
In the name of right,
beliefs and non-beliefs,
For a known way of life,
Against the unfamiliar,
Always the Other.

Friends and neighbours
Sacred ships forgotten,
For I,
Me
My faith
My surname
My colour
My state.

Whither my nation?

Democracy mutilated
Constitution disowned
Rights haughtily demanded
Duties blindly discarded

No place for
The powerless
The voiceless
The threatless
The gullible
As tools for the guiltless.

India - A borrowed idea
Land of a borrowed people
Increasingly home to none.

And Time

2008-08-28T20:20:00.004+05:30

Do you want a time out?
To think things through
To stand back a while
And seek perspective.

Spaces and breaths
Distances and lives to live
Snails and twigs
Hosts and parasites
Whole/cloying

Grapes do not a whole palette make.
An opium of the senses
In its one-dimensional worth.

A Little Trip Off The Straight Road

2008-08-28T19:46:00.003+05:30

Do you feel the darkness?
Asphyxiating
Cloying
Twitching
For lights in dark places
For a greenleaf in the dark forest
For starshine on a dark night

A redemption sought.

Douse the heart’s fire
Pawning soul lights
Flaming the soul’s dark desire
Offering mock solace
To quivering temptation.

Thorns and needles
Kindling hurt needless
A fragile heart
In whose keeping;
When keepers’ feel burdened?

Can and cannot
Wishful thinking
Thoughts interrupted
Simmering doubts
Sparks of fear
Aimless wandering
Questless seeking

But where is the mage?

The sea beckons
A thirst identified
Dreams within reach
With reality ransomed?
The butterfly effect
Nullified? And truly
Guiltless and guileless?

Seconds pass on
Adrift on sealess shores
Entwined eternity
A chimeral relic.

2008-08-25T22:02:00.000+05:30

A Bolt for Puma

I am curious.
A minute before the 100m track event was to begin at the Beijing, what was going through the heads of Puma, Nike and Adidas executives? To be more precise, what was going through the minds of those executives who had signed up Usain Bolt, Asafa Powell and Tyson Gay to promote their brands?

But I bet 10.69 seconds later, the Puma executive would have been agape at what had just happened. Bolt, who only began running the 100m about 15 months ago, had run a 9.69 second race to become the world's fastest man. Bolt also gave his shoe company a free advertisement when he took off his golden coloured boots to kiss and wave them around.

Reportedly, however, the company failed to bombard our screens with congratulatory ads. Very unlike Speedo which hosted a congratulatory party for all the swimmers once the events were over.

When asked about the lack of congratulatory ads, Puma's chief marketing officer Antonio Bertone said, "When you do congratulations ads, are you doing it for Wall Street or for the consumer?"

So did Puma lose a market opportunity? Or will Bolt's raw charisma be enough to rev up their market profile and rocket sales?

NB:
Sujoy, this is more up your lane: why not write a guest entry here on this ? :)

2008-08-25T21:43:00.000+05:30

Watershed Olympics for India?

3 medals in 1 Olympics is the stuff of Indian dreams.

Looking back, perhaps, India's confidence at the world stage has been slowly building. Since the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, Indian athletes have brought in at least 1 medal. In 1996, it was Leander Paes winning the bronze in tennis singles, followed by weightlifter Karnam Malleshwari's bronze at the 2000 Sydney Games which was then upgraded to a silver in shooting by Rajyavardhan Singh Rathore.

After four years, India's athletes have brought back three medals. While Abhinav Bindra shot gold and Sushil Kumar wrestled a bronze, Vijender Singh brought home India’s first boxing medal: a bronze.

For once, India was part of the world's largest sports extravaganza. For once, when people gush about Olympic medals, we Indians will do some gushing of our own. Granted, that the Chinese, Americans, Brits, Aussies and Europeans, would consider all the Indian gushing a bit underwhelming. But then, only a nation of people who have cracked the codes for success in every field but sports, can fathom the unbridled pride that we feel when talking about these three wonderful young men.

Some commentators (notably Gaurav Kalra of CNN-IBN) have called this the 'Miracle Olympics'. I disagree with that notion.

Because Bindra, Kumar and Singh would disagree. These men did not win because of luck or retirements. They won because they beat their opponents fairly. They won because they persevered when no one had even heard of them. They won because they kept faith when their own dismissed them and their sports. They won because success was the only way to survive in a country which seemed comfortable with settling for far less. These three men won because it was their destiny. A destiny which they earned through dint of sweat and toil and hurt and a quiet dignity.

I will not belittle them and their achievements by calling them a 'miracle'. Nature had no hand in their success. It was raw talent and hunger that saw them stand on the world stage and not blink. Abhinav, Sushil, Vijender, Akhil, Jitender, Saina: They showed no fear. There was only courage, heart and hope. And that, even more than the medals, will be their legacy.

2008-08-20T21:26:00.000+05:30

Liu misery for China

China’s biggest superstar Liu Xiang pulled out of the 110 meters hurdles minutes before his first heat. Liu, the only Chinese trackstar, was the surprise hurdles winner at the 2004 Athens Olympics. Since then, his countrymen have been enamoured of him. His face has adorned huge hoardings and shop windows across the country. The host nation, which could hardly wait for track events to begin, was in for a huge shock when Liu pulled out. Liu's withdrawal broke the collective heart of China.

Surprisingly, I was disappointed to hear the news. While Liu is fawned over across his home nation, the star himself is quite elusive. And with no opportunities in India to catch up on world athletic events, I knew this was as good a chance as any to see this star in action.

But more than the withdrawal, the manner of it raises more questions. Why did he wait till before the first heat to withdraw? The injury was definitely not picked up that day. It was most likely something that he had suffered sometime ago. Did Liu believe that on the day, he would be fine enough to run? Or was the star under pressure from the various sponsors to withdraw only at the last moment? Some commentators seem to think so.

Whatever the truth, Liu is assured of his legendary status in China. After his announcement, there were no kneejerk reactions from his Olympic-medal mad nation. I can only hope that we Indians will learn to show the same level of maturity as the Chinese while dealing with the fragile bodies and vulnerable hearts of our sportspersons.

2008-08-19T21:47:00.001+05:30

Isinbayeva: Pure magic always

Yelena Isinbayeva. Is she for real? Okay, I admit we have already asked this question of Sergey Bubka. For like ages…err…what do you mean that That bloke with the stick (mind out of gutter, puhleeze!) was only around for just over 10 years? He sure seemed ubiquitous. Not that anyone minded. Just as we do not mind Isinbayeva. We only heart Isinbayeva. This woman with the stick could yet be the biggest yay! for feminism. But as feminism is accused of embracing anything self-serving, we shall not indulge in the same. Rather let's do some worshipping of the pole vault variety.

Isinbayeva. This woman is pure magic. Always. A showstopper and a heart stopper too with her beautiful looks, glowing smile, proud eyes and showmanship. I want to ask her about her ever continuous quest for perfection. She intrigues me for what woman would want to jump over houses to make a living. She rebuts notions of drab female athletes. For in Beijing, no athlete has seemed as suavely cool, as confidently glamorous or shown such naked determination as this 26-year-old Russian. Or made athletics look sexy.

A wow for the way she worked the stadium crowd: And for affecting people like a colleague who came to office the next day gushing about a woman who had won some race. And then his eyes fell on a picture of Isinbayeva blowing kisses (part of an article on the star that my neighbour was reading) and he goes all gleeful and “This is her. This is the one who won the race.” Careful investigation revealed that he had switched on the television at the tail end of her victory celebrations and all he saw was her running with her country’s flag and blowing kisses.

Such is the effect of this amazing woman.

Do not know about feminism, but Isinbayeva has been one of the athletes expressing themselves exquisitely in a land accused of suppressing expression.

Long may her tribe flourish.

2008-08-19T21:37:00.000+05:30

Bolt bolts fine enough in 100m

21-year-old Jamaican Usain Bolt is the new 100m sprint world record holder. What a magical night. How freeing to watch this tall sleek man glide through the track at half the effort of the rest of the field. No grimacing, no straining of sinews and wills fighting air resistance in the quest to be known as the fastest human in the world. Bolt only ran. And made sprint look like a jog on the beach. The world agrees that he has to be from another planet. At the least, Bolt did not run like a human. All the more reason to celebrate his naiveity; To celebrate the fact that this young man wanted nothing to do with times and records and aimed only to be champion. For it showed him up to be human after all. Bolt had run his race so effortlessly that he began celebrating his win 20m from the finish. The thump on his Jamaican jersey, the exhortation to the crowd to salute the fastest man in history, the mad jig after his victory – track could not have asked for a better man on its big night on the biggest arena of it all. Hopefully, Bolt’s glee at being champion will do more to inspire thousands of youngsters around the world to feel the wind in their hair. And maybe encourage a lot of us jaded ones to go for a run when life’s weaves get too complicated.

For bringing innocence back to the simplest of all games, for bringing joy to a million hearts watching him that night and later, for making us believe in fallible yet perfect legends and for instilling faith, here’s a salute to Bolt.

One man’s merry flight could yet launch a hundred dreams in my country. For Bolt has shown, faith and hope are not as ephemeral as we sometimes believe.

Oh and bring on the chicken nuggets! Which dolt says I cannot have nuggets and run like Bolt?(Unwittingly, Bolt might just be the new role model for anorexic couch potatoes.)

2008-08-13T22:09:00.000+05:30

Love? For Me?

Love
Exotic
Erotic
Soulful
Answering dreams
Living reality
Seeking cosmic answers.
Your hand in mine?
Is for the faint hearted
Who call themselves 'romantics'.
Skating that wave
I ride esctasy, delirium, rapture
What the wordless call 'high'.
No aspirations for the high love
The base is high enough for me.
Sexuality
Sensuality
Answers enough for me
Empowerment
Pleasure
Selfishness
Selflessness
Seeking Joy
For a friendly clasp
For a tender hold
For a rousing kiss
The world does not stop
Time does not empathise
Nothing to lose
Joyful regard to win
No holds barred
No quarter held back
Giving
Receiving
The ageless sky watches
Blessed unions.

2008-08-13T21:12:00.000+05:30

On Wanting!

Wanting, waiting, wanting some more
The want grows, the want pines
The heart then aligns
Unquenchable thirst courses
When did the day change?
Dreams bleed into reality
The curtain rises
In the torches glare
The real glides in
What do I believe?
Whither my heart?
Wherefore my fears?
Your shadow nurtures
The sky seems ordinary
The oak to the elm
The accessible world
The friendly strangers
The worldly touch
Rebelling with conformity
Conforming with rebellion
Changing the rules
Adhering to some while writing others
Oh the Joy!
The open sky beckons
The wind booms in my ears
The unfamiliar breeds fear
The heart seeks courage
Will the faeries come good
The elves' long wisdom
Grant illumination?
Questions and quests
Seeking
Wanting,
Waiting,
Wanting some more.

2008-08-13T10:11:00.000+05:30

Michael 'Mighty' Phelps on his merry way!!!

Michael Phelps, on course for Mark Spitz's record of 7 Olympic golds, has won his fifth gold with the US 4x200m freestyle relay team in a world record time of 6min 58.56sec. The 23-year-old American is on course to do what Ian 'Thorpedo' Thorpe was expected to achieve in Athens in 2004. Will Beijing crown a new swimming legend?

Phelps has already become the most successful Olympian now with a total tally of 10 individual golds. (Perspective: India has a sum total of 9 Olympic Golds so far)

2008-08-13T08:25:00.000+05:30

Words For The Day

It seems everyone knows who I should be
everyone knows, but no one agrees
When I run, let me run, if I fall, it’s my right
Respect my solitude if I fade from sight
I’ll be your hero if you need me to be
but even heroes need friends who accept me for me.
I’ll carry the standard, fight the good fight
Hold back the shadows, make way for the light
But when I lay my sword down will you still be by my side?
Can you stand the darkness when I want to hide?
When I fall behind, walk before me and know:
I’m here by my choice; it’s never cold in your shadow

--Cassia (From The Mellon Chronicles)

2008-08-12T13:31:00.000+05:30

Sabotaging Olympics - The China Way

Beijing Olympics - China's PR Agency