Thursday, August 23, 2007

Use contraceptives

Prevent Aids

The Alchemist- by Paulo Coelho

The book which has changed the life of millions through a simple yet striking magical story has become the favorite of many across the globe including me. Very few fables have the capacity to have some kind of mystic influence on your life through words that reach your soul and this book is surely one of them. The author Paulo Coelho indeed knows to convey his message to the world and motivate people to follow their dreams in a beautiful and an effective way. The story has some true hidden pearls of wisdom that has helped it achieve the status of a ‘modern classic’.

Though the story essentially edifies us about the basic understanding of listening to our hearts, what makes this book so striking is the distinctive style and weaving of words that have an everlasting dint on your hearts. This book makes us believe in destiny, destiny that you make for yourself. The book does not directly preach any didactic lessons of optimism; it rather inspires us to follow and tread on to the path of our thoughts and wills that we have laid for ourselves through stunning metaphors and striking symbolisms.

“When you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true” This statement is the arabesque on which the entire book is decorated. It makes an individual believe in one-self and invigorates our faith in us. Coelho wants people to realize that it is in their hands to make the most of their life and that they should not become a prey to their own fate. The author also points out through the character of old crystal seller that those who do not have courage and are afraid of failure live a mediocre life full of emptiness and misery and that such people find comfort only in dreaming rather than putting an effort to fulfill their dreams…

The author uses imagery with such ease and comfort that the book almost takes you along the arid desert along with Santiago, the central character. Passion and ambition is a big part of his life that has inspired him to search for an extravagant treasure in Egypt. The book makes us see life through the passionate and eager eyes of Santiago who has the courage to sacrifice his life in order to fulfill his dreams. This is what I loved about the character because it inspired me to listen to my heart and understand what my existence is all about. It has taught me to be focused on what I want to achieve in life without worrying much about what other people have to think.

“Every second of your search is an encounter with God” This lines makes us believe that all of us have a road to follow, a mission to achieve, that has been made for us by God and that only few people walk on to search their destiny to experience that heavenly feeling, to know what it is to meet God. The symbolic use of ‘elixir of life’ and ‘philosopher’s stone’ for God is precisely done. It adds on to give the alchemy feel to the book. It is interesting to see that Coelho presents the person who denies following his dreams as the person who denies seeing God. It tells us about the strong faith that the author has in God.

With the meeting of characters Santiago and Fatima, the book instills our feeling and faith in love and it tells us that love it is the hub of subsistence and life. It tells us that love helps us to progress and gives us the strength to fulfill all our dreams. “I love you because the whole universe conspired for me to come close to you.” This is what Santiago says to Fatima in the book. Coelho’s writing indeed is beautifully poetic and soothes to ones senses.

The story indeed has the intensity to make us self- empowered, ambitious and motivates us to strive towards our goal in life. The best thing about the book is the challenge that it poses to the reader to follow the dreams in his/her life. The author’s simplicity of thoughts, the unusual setting, and underlying meanings in the book is what makes it an enjoyable reading experience. The reading of the feeling of fulfillment of ones aspirations is what makes this book so extraordinary. Truly, ‘The Alchemist’ has had a life enhancing impact on millions of people!

The last evening that she flew

She was sitting on the swing in her penthouse porch. Her habitual rolling of her curls through her fingers had not changed. The evening chirps and the commotion outside hardly came to her notice. She was lost in her own thoughts, in the web of contradictions of her very own life. The constant inner dilemma inside was depressing her to no ends. She knew she was slipping into the concaved world where she would soon be lost; never to find herself. She opened her closed fists and gazed on the Arabic design on her palms and her hands. She saw those neatly outlined flowers and motifs in auburns. She smiled. She smirked. She laughed. She was maniacally guffawing. It stopped after a while when she had enough of those suppressions of her emotions. She sat there; silent, without any expressions. She subdued the confusion of emotions within. Now she wanted to cry, cry out loud and she did, but that too did not suffice to make her feel fine. She herself did not know what was making her go through these dragon ride emotions. She had perhaps reached a state where she could not distinguish between so called being “happy” or “sad”. She had been tired of composing picture perfect fake smiles and affected behaviors. At times, she got so blank that there was a vacuum in her mind. Nothing could fill it up; absolutely nothing! There was no one to understand her stature because she found people very different to her. They comfortably lived in a world doing things so naturally that she strived to pretend. She was at sea. She kept swinging; gazing on to the sky aimlessly. Then suddenly she ran to the kitchen and searched for a knife at the impulsive thought to cut her nerves. The knife was right in her hands. She stood still and stared at her own nerves. She started laughing again; feeling pity on herself. She thought that this act too was being pretentious and was influenced from seeing movies. She hated to be predictable. And perhaps she thought it was not that she did not want to live. She very much wanted to live but live to the fullest, fulfilling her all weirdest fantasies that were scribbled in her diary. She wanted to talk to herself but she thought she suffered from aphasia. Though she did not have any physical injury; she suffered from mental illness; an illness which no one could cure except her. She wanted to live in some unknown, unseen, misty, hazy, foggy thoughts; thoughts that did neither have a start nor an end, thoughts that would come and go, thoughts that would make her feel free to think about anything that she wanted. Thoughts that had no connection and if laid on paper would form a haphazard design making no sense to anyone who sees it, except her. She somehow made sense of her nonsensical thoughts too and she loved doing it all the time.
She was staring at her curls again. She thought she too was entangled in the curls of life. A life where she would soon have to learn some big words of responsibilities, deference, obedience and what not…its not that she did not have these things in her but some oblivious facts of forced human life always scared her. Nothing was dearer to her than her freedom and from what she had seen in her twenty-five years of life, she sure had a phobia against losing it. It would actually make her go numb. She knew she was a misogamist- having hatred against marriage. She had never viewed matrimony as a heavenly thing to happen to two blissful souls. She felt marriage were synonyms to suppression, suffering and sorrows. Somehow these things were instilled engraved in her mind right from childhood. The fact that love too would be artificially generated using the biotechnology games of arrange marriage had scarred her mind. But then again she thought may be one would grow affectionate towards a person one stays with but she knew she would never really truly love the person in that forceful manner. Now she was frustrated of her own brains that could never stop thinking. She gazed the sky again. She so wished she could fly and roam and meander in this cosmos till her last breath!
It was the last evening she spent with herself coz the next day was going to be the grand day of her marriage!

Strange Affections

Yesterday, after working the whole day at my friend’s place on the second last project of my course (thank God for it being almost the second last one), I was on my way back home. I checked my watch. It was 9 pm. And I checked myself! I was dead tired. I was waiting at the station for the freaking train to arrive. As it did after due testing of my patience, I entered the second "second class ladies compartment" with some difficulty.
There are always these women in the train who think they are traveling in their private jet and thus they sit comfortably at the door blocking the way of all those who want to board in!! I was pretty annoyed at this as I entered but did not say anything as I never like to mess around with people of such great honor!!!! . There were a couple of empty seats in the train, but I always preferred standing near the door, listening to the music and enjoying the cool breeze as it hits you… Mind you I stand at the door but the moment a station arrives, I step back to let people enter and not behave as if I owned this moving property..... . But sadly this time my pleasure of enjoying the breeze was taken away for the obvious reasons!! I stood on the so called “second standing seat” inside the Mumbai trains. Soon I heard the cop acrimoniously shouting at the women near the door. These cops have their duty to be in the ladies compartments after 9. He was telling her to get up but she made the excuse of not being well and feeling puckish. She told the cop that she needed to sit there so that she could easily vomit out...... "Yuk!" my mind and my expressive eyes said....imagine what would happen if they were to actually fly in a jet! Where would they vomit…..never mind...I like keep getting these crazy thoughts… The cop too made a grumpy face on the woman’s bahana no. 47 (though innovative enough) and decided to let that women enjoy her "jet ride".
I looked at the cop who was standing diagonally opposite to me. My eyes went first on the name plate. It read "Vijay. Pra. Dhadke". It took me a while to read it, as it was written in Marathi. Then I looked at him. He must be in his forties. He was dark yet his features were simply adorable. There was this
” aggressive yet kind” look on his face which revealed his dual personality of being a ‘strict angry cop’ at the same time a ‘loving caring man’. For a moment I thought “What crap!! Why am I observing and analyzing no one but a cop!!!! Why am I doing his work?? Hehe!” But there was something about him that made me just look at him, think about him. He was not like other cops who merely stand there like titular heads! He seemed a cop who knew his duties and responsibilities very well. He was a “concerned cop “in the true sense of the term. I felt a deep sense of affinity towards him. There was an eruption of emotions in my heart. It occurs every time I get sentimental and foolish (both together). It would be very filmi to say but I felt as if I knew him since years. I felt like going and pulling his cheeks, calling him ‘my sweet uncle’ and talking to him. Amazed and abashed at my own feelings, thoughts and imagination I decided to abort this aberrant thought. (Hey that’s alliteration (all A’s)).

I started listening to the radio to divert my attention but it was an abortive attempt. As he was standing right opposite to me, it was impossible to not look at him. Just then my thoughts were disturbed by shouts of this young girl selling bindi packets. She was hardly seven-eight years old and was carrying a basket on top of her head which was full of these bindi packets. She was persuading each and every woman in the train to buy at least one packet but all her attempts were in vain… I was feeling sorry for her … The cop too was noticing that girl. (Vijay uncle- wish could call him that.). He summoned the girl. He asked her to show some bindi packets from the basket to him. It was very strange … I mean imagine a cop buying bindi packets!!!! I don’t mean that they can’t … but we have these stereo typical images of cops being this brave, strong, no non sense kind of attitude and all….. And here was my uncle (the cop)! Buying bindi packets for his wife…. How cute!!! He would surely be an ideal husband.
After he bought the packets, he saw me... Unable to hide my emotions I gave him this 360 degree smile trying to convey how much I appreciated his purchase for his wife… he smiled back at me. I liked that.
My home station soon arrived and I was all ready… geared up to jump out of the train (u jump out of the Mumbai trains… not alight!!!) I turned to see him the last time. His eyes gave me a blink and waved me a good bye. I smiled and got out…. Walking past the platform with a thoughtless brain and an emotion filled heart…………….
YES! My affections were strange but nonetheless they were pure and serene……..

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Like a bygone era

Eons have passed
The mirror roared
Wrinkles appear
Eyes still gaze there

A picture lives everyday
It giggles, tickles and
Yet stands steady
On a frozen heart

The page flutters
As the wind blows
Tresses beckon
The waves of days gone

I cross my fingers
At the mail delivery vehicle
I fool myself
To believe in eyelash wishes

The straight road
Sometimes has no end
You turn around
And still there is no one

The taste of a tear

On a hungry road that I once strolled on
My swift blood stopped traveling
A tortuous swirl surpassed lungs and went beneath
Such can be the ability…
Of the sight and the scene
Of a lamp at a lousy corner
Whose mid-night shadow I saw that night
It replicated me in some act
And the pinched heart lay at my feet
I stood to be stable
To ponder and decide
Never to visit a monument twice
It will evoke the magma in you
And memories will haunt
When the mind will work and the feet will rest
Eyes see some dreams
And heart speaks some sotto voce words
About the night
When the moon hides behind the pillow
I opened my scrapbook
And gazed at those stuck coffee bills
I laughed at my nonage deeds
And cried over my emotions
I became a momentary bibelot
And persisted in my room
I looked quite decorative
Yet there was a hollow within…

The personified pitcher

I am a flimsy pitcher
Brimmed with water
And empty;
Yet again and again
Hollow and sunken
In the humdrum ride
The same muddy road
And a few drops trip
They fall with the call
Of the gravity
Of the society
Turbulence whirls in me
And yet the serene me
A metaphor of coolness
Empty once again
Filled; yet again
My blackout nights
And topsy-turvy me
Throttling for a breathe
And brimmed again
Along the morning sun
I live in extremities
And idyllic is non existent
That lad had given me a life
With those eyes and painted lips
He filled me like always
With fresh life
And I was yet snatched
And brimmed again…

With the fall of the night

The night brings its own sacked stories,
In the ear dropping silence of my cuboid
As I turn off the golden lamp shade,
The yellow light of the candle burns within
As I cover the black sheath of my eyes,
I discover some red colored semicircles…

Some scenes replicate in my mind,
Like that in the illustrated fable books,
I scribble the chats in the bubbles,
And paint the picture my way,
The saga of my secret dwell,
In the tale that I once lived in…

Nebulous metaphors of some years,
Are deeply penetrated within,
And as the darkness swells up,
The moist heart evokes them,
Like Butterfly pangs and pendulum strikes,
I flash back in the memento of time…

The dam built on my eyes breaks over,
As I swallow a lump in my throat,
My pillow does offer his shoulders,
But the snow melts from the peaks,
My heart sings the composed cantata,
As I try clearing the miasma within…

I ruminate the tale twice told,
And endure all the twinges within,
I try to macerate the fall of yellow leaves,
Only to hitch-hike to full moon nights!
Why the evil darkness baits me?
How long can I be my own ancillary?

What more can you do to a mind?
If it starts mingling over memories
With peculiar fragrances and sounds;
It goes back to the days of my glory
Burying memoirs; I keep myself inundated
But the abyss in me is never satiated …

In the pretext of helping to heal myself
I reach at the roots of my laminated soul
The place where I have masked myself
And got written in my annals ago
I now, live on with a phantasm inside
Passing silent days and sleepless nights…

Colours to wear

What color will you wear tonight?
The wardrobe questions their soul

Each mask you can conveniently put on
They will match with the color of your corset!

The jewels too shall harmonize;
With the tinge of red that you always carry

You can smoothen those garden walls with your talks
And enjoy the dive in the air you have blown

Oh! The yellows within sometimes evaporates…
Let the quick-fix purple patch be hemmed…

The colors will amend to suit your changing traits
The hues will darken to hide all your sinister parts

So many colors a day
Every time a new tint,
Every time a new shade

I wonder if they ever catch themselves;
While such games they play!

When will they be peeling off all these colors?
Or will they be fabricated;
To leave a stain on the heart?

Will remorse be disturbing them?
How will they be running away from it?

Probably a new brush to the old soul
Some painting in the exterior
And the deep hollow covered!

Facades and faces
Go along well it seems...!!

We sheathe ourselves so many times
With color masks to our convenience
That sometimes I wonder;
We ourselves do not realize who we are!

What a preposterous existence
So much unworthy of living!

Vagabond water

A nomad at heart,
With a peripatetic character,
Let me saunter,
Like the vagabond water.

Moor me not,
I am a rambling spirit.
Ephemeral bliss I offer,
In vistas I visit

I drink a little learning,
Dissolving the anodyne pills,
I do make a rainbow,
Not knowing what colors to fill.

Do not turn the faucet,
Trying to control my surges,
I will play the piano,
And strike the chords of my wishes.

I am like a kiosk,
My persona at display,
I narrate some anecdotes,
They come and go each day.

The phosphorous light in me,
Creates deep urges every night,
And I weep unto death,
Not knowing the reason behind…

Turmeric stains

Turmeric stains
Bleeding heart
Shaded memories
Of red laced charter

Herbal tea
Doldrums flee…

Eternal desires
Lost in fury
Pointing fingers
Moral character

Air conditioned mind
The room so blind…

Fascia; so divine
Bosoms to gaze
Loathingly lustful
Wandering in this maze…

Free bird above
Caged screen soul

Bookmark to follow
Pages to turn
Dried petals to keep
Foolish enough to weep

Starry night
Verbal fights

Curvy roads to tread on
Angular lives to live
Standard norms prescribed
Useless we; with a mind

The surreal dreams

I am surrounded by the repercussions of the havoc inside me
The grand picturesque of my vulnerable existence

I am lost in a crowd that gathers you
And the cloud nine dreams surround me

In the mind; I am wearing this bizarre tiara
And the shining aureole encircling me

The surreal reverie is taking on me
And the mind crowning me like a queen

I am smirking at my own foolish conjectures
And tapping my head to emphasis the veracity

Looking for my old corner that created fond memories
I am trying to nail myself and hang on that wall

I will camouflage inside the motif in that frame;
That hangs there; and be dangled unto death

I am slowly vanishing in an entangled swarm
Screaming to know myself from his eyes

I am excavating to find my lost bed
Giggling away to hide my falling tears

Yet I am grateful to my very own subconscious self
Which loses itself in reality and dreams to fulfill…

The Crisis of survival

(dedicated to so many farmers who have commited suicide)

His auburn soil
And yellow tractor
Rusty shovel
Digging harder

Tilling toiling
Dawn to dusk
Sowing seeds
Removing husks

Sprinkling water
Thirsty crops
Heavy breathes
Sun shining hot

His brow shined
Out of sweat
Folds on the head
Worry of debt

The anxious gaze
Up in the sky
The watery eyes
The fighting pride

The silent lunch
Under the shade
The puckish feeling
The unfair fate

The sundown journey
That strange smile
Strained legs
And the pain inside

That hazy night
He ploughed himself
Earth awaited,
But he never arrived

The abstruse

I am the millionth part in this minuscule space where life subsists
My existence is; Only for some counted breathes;
Only for an infinitesimal time in the clock of period
I am just atoms, molecules, and cells
Made of some insignificant rudiments
Is it all that I am ?
Every time I ponder
I am all questions without an answer

They say I am a human
The most superior of the lot
What’s the difference?
Except the carcass
Restless soul I was;
Now and then,
Sometimes inside an amoeba
Sometimes in a tyrannosaurus

Meandering in this cosmos
What more I am to see?
What lies beyond the mind’s eye?
Inquisitive I am, about the unseen…
Enough of rotations and revolutions
Tell me something more
Seas and stars and skies and space
I guess I have had enough of all

The lives that I have lived
From trees to something anthropomorphic
From an ant to some asinine creature
I wonder, I doubt, I question
Does this vicious circle follow,
some sort of schematic structure?
Why a pattern? Why this monotony?
Life and death, Death and life
Bore stiff souls, living sundry stories…

Envisaging the unknown
Irritation at the inability
What lies beyond subsistence?
What lies at the epicenter?
Unable to retort,
My mind stops to reason out
I think about the origin
Read some damn theories
How can something not have an end and a beginning?
Disgruntled; what is the corollary after all?

Are we forever going to circumnavigate?
…Suffering the ordeals in this orbit…
Living like hollow hopeless beings…
Acerbic experiences…
Futile affections…
Momentary relations…
Pointless lives…
Going on unremittingly,
Left behind are memoirs and graves
Some inane carved words on it, I read,
and again I am lost to ponder…


After an year,
Opened this drawer

Dusty and misty
These books in the cover

Memories refreshed
The coffee, the juice
The impressive articles
That he had infused

These are notebooks
Short stories inside…
Cursive, hand written
All with the blue pen

Momentous silence
Swaying through the past
Nice it was, he, the guest
I, being the host.

I turn the pages,
And the mind images,
Interesting stories,
And those acquaintances

Conversations were such,
Hours had passed
Had I Realized?
Oh no, I had not.

One of the books
Has this torn tattered look
Mysterious that I am
Intriguingly, a look, I took

It is his diary,
Childhood days
Teenage crushes
And some philosophy…

The books are still here
But he has gone far away
Connections have weakened
Ages that we have spoken…
His treasure lies
Still with me
In abeyance;
I wait for him.

"My bronx zoo"

I have officially titled my house “The Bronx Zoo”
‘Coz everyday I greet a person new,
“Hello Aunty, how do you do?”
Oh! How I hate being this pretentious when I am really so blue!
Apologies for being mean, unkind,
But this everyday thing has taken a toll on my mind!
Let me spill the beans, reveal the story,
I, the zoo, and the “Bronx jury”…
I come from work, enter my “Home, sweet Home” (pun intended)
And there! Someone is always sitting inside my dome!
I have to put this quick Fevistick smile,
And keep all that frustration hidden inside,
Take charge of those honed acting skills of mine,
And greet! “Oh Aunty! Pleasure meeting you! I am very fine.”
The question and the quiz round immediately starts
I become a dartboard, those questions the darts…L
“Are you studying?”
“Where are you working?”
“Where have you been going?”
“What else have you been doing?”
“How have you been commuting?”
“Have you learnt cooking?”
“How much are you spending?”
“How often have you been shopping?”
What and where and how and why….
I have to patiently answer all, don’t ask me why…!!!
After the interval, she starts again, asking my age…
Now I go mad, furious with rage!
Oh no! I know what’s coming up next!
Guys and marriage, kids and sex!
She starts suggesting names of “eligible bachelors”!
Now inside me, a lion erupts, roaring grr… grr..., tearing me apart!
I feel like standing up
Asking such gorgons to leave!
I do stand up too…
Decide to be feverish, and then away I go!
Everyday a new creature,
Everyday a new feature…
Same frustrations,
Just no options,

In the waters of Venice

When are you taking me for a Gondola ride in the quiet waters of the evening Venice?
When the stars above shall shy away to see our silhouettes in the rippling waters

In the dim lights of the wooden gondola, I shall listen to your violin pieces and
Your warmth shall shield me against the cold winds at the pedestrian crossings

In the moonlit darkness, we shall surpass the picturesque bridges and narrow canals
As the dark water will absorb the squishiness inside; the cold ripples will give me jitters

In the traverse, be like Shakespeare and please your queen of Venice with a love poem
Let me get soaked in the historic ambiance as we would stir along the golden lit heritages

With stillness in mobility, our asymmetric lotus will float in the lagoon of Italy and
I would immerse in the sea of your eyes as we would drift across the enchanting city

Marble palaces and stone bridges will create impulsive mesmerism in hollow alleys
Hand in hand we will swiftly glide and stealthy love shall bloom in the Venice waters

Silent weather and the surreptitious affection; you and me and the rowing gondolier,
The time will melt and so will the moonlight, and so much I will cherish our gondola ride…

Just let me be!

I was sitting beside by window pane
And he entered!
With that highly intolerable synthetic smile
He wished good morning my darls…
Huh! I do not understand
What people find so good about the mornings…!
Anyways, to continue the by-hearted conversation,
He said,
“Hope you are in the pink of your health!”
And I said “No! I am in blue!!”
And he so miserably empathized;
“Oh baby! Do not worry...!
The flowers in your courtyard shall one day bloom too!”
I almost attempted suicide at this pitiable hopelessness
Now what to say!!
“There is no perimeter to gather such contrived sympathizers!!!”
“Everything will be fine. Just relax”
I question my mind “oh really?”
I guess that will be only if you let me detach”!!
“You will come out with flying colors
And then the sky will be your limit”….
Ok then!!!
I sigh and cry on myself;
It’s better to be wandering colorless
Than hearing those golden counsels
Guess this was not enough
Some people can just continue …
Hope indeed floats big time!
He passionately repeated;
Words he must have read in some newspaper
“Where the sun will shine your courtyard
And the stars shall twinkle in your eyes!!”
Let me be silent.
There is no cure for charades and condolence
I can only repeat to my nerves; not to him!
Stop boring me with your humdrum poetries
Tell me something new
Scribble some pragmatic notes
Talk something life-like!!!!!
Or else

Human fools

Some Dish washing soap
Mixed with water and glycerin
Stir it thoroughly
And dip the circular mould in the froth
Be ready to blow
The bubbles of expectations…
They; dear, are going to burst
Sooner or later….
Crappy Soapy bubbles they are…

Fifty two playing cards,
Place it one over the other
Let’s make a pyramid
Pyramid of expectations
You know dear…
You already know
One flick of wild air
And there! They all give up….
Crazy cards, Foolish builders!

Some sand on the beach
Silly kids making castles
Surmounting some thoughts
And protecting them against all odds
There comes; one wash of the tide
Wuthering away all that was built
Funny I find when those kids cry
Clinging on to useless things
Crying over unrealized dreams…

Such are expectations
Always wanting to paint some rosy picture
Ask them: What in hand have you got?
They will show you the thumb and the tongue
Will laugh and make you stand there like a dumb…

They cause freaking mere dream pangs
All time giving spasms and shudders
Expectations rag you
Haunt you
Paralyze you
Kill you.

“Do not expect”
Is what they all advise…
“Do not have desires”
Is what they all say…
I smile and wonder
Do they realize?
That too, my dear,
Is an ex-pec-ta-tion
An expectation out of me:-)

Ephemeral bliss

I still recall those glass tinted memories
Golden moments of eternal ecstasy
We wove the unwoven threads
And spoke things unsaid

As long as my heart beat
The door bell rang
And your instincts screamed
My name; in your silent dreams

You opened the latch;
And embraced my soul
My silent breathes swayed
And they said it all!

We clinched like;
We lived our last moment
Lost in cozy feelings
I couldn’t stop the tears flow

You walked on the red carpet;
That I laid for you
Those rose petals craved
For the heat of your stroke

The topsy -turvy world
Got lost with our turns
The Curtains hid all the light
And day seemed like a starry night

You caressed my tresses
And pampered my senses
Though momentary and ephemeral
They were Silver seconds of seventh heaven!

Brunette hours

Like the burning lamp shade of desire,
The svelte night stood,

Like the tingling sounds of the wind-chime,
My nerves, sensed;
Some tickling…

Like the auburn curtains of romanticism,
My heart played Rondo;

Like the whoosh and the swish of the wind,
My breathe went all;

Like the sentient pillow of sentiments,
My mind framed sepia images;
Then flashing….

Like the rusty hinge on the door,
Corrosion of feelings;
My mind reminding……..

Beats of beatitude

In the clasp of our hands
The snow melted

The stars sparkled bright
In the darkness of our eyes

The lava erupted
From the volcanic heart

And the bee sucked
The nectar of the sunflower

The rivulet surged
Into the subterranean sea

And a thousand dreams
In the mind;

With sealed lips
And the dim light….

The fluttering butterfly
In the stomach

Flickering lashes,
And soothing satin strokes

Goose flesh on the hands
Tickle on the barren land

A whisper in the ear
And a silent scream within

In the murky curls of night
There was a moon
A moon; shining bright!

Aggravated Frustration

Yet they again preach me;
Didactic lessons of optimism!!!
Aggravating my stance on,
My vacuumed independence

Leave me with my twinges;
Don’t bore me with your weather discussions
I will enjoy my abject stature,
Over your falsity and pretended conversations

Don’t show me the way to the utopian path
Spare me with your feint advices
I can smile with a falling tear
Without your far-fetched enthusiasm

The white ants are building up the void in me
Kindly discontinue your moral torturing
I like sticking onto my own fantasies
Just let me be the weirdest myself!

Do not answer my rhetorical questions; fool!
They were meant to be acerbic;
Stop blabbering those pearls of wisdom;
I had enough to wear them all!

My anguish, my agony, haunts me
I have drank the poison of impatience
No! I do not need an apothecary
Just some moments of solitary harmony!

Fence round the soul

The cynical fellows have a hollow within
Sadistic pleasure they derive out of mocking
They wear some blinkers and biting quotes
And a dragon tattoo that suits them the most

Trenchant tone mitigates their bare soul
Razor sharp tongue that has tasted the sweet fire
Often they hide and love their puppies
Human traits perhaps are not for this

The bitter taste of the sweet nothings
The meek inner of the killer eyes
They love to hurt with acerbic remarks
Coz in them, they hold and hide!

Strong instincts for absurd talks
Gives them an edge to rule the lot
Their punchy ripostes sure are terse
Hitting hard they soothe their soft inn

Sarcasm is the outcome of sorrow
Liberating their past into tomorrow
Dried rose are kept in their books
And yet, every time the thorn pricks…

A Fiasco

A poem she wrote,
And the world honored her fanaticism
All minds; a dross world;
Embedded in her legends
Agreement and empathy;
Were the blessed gifts of time
Her detached point of view
Raised questions
A lame loner;
has a thousand devotees
Soul is a fulcrum
yet she could not move the boulder
tailor-made life is; sometimes,
moving on the conveyor belt
dissolving the fascination,
in the water it drinks
her emollient remedies
soothed a million hearts
yet the ointment itself
burned her inflamed area
praised in a thousand midnight songs
Eulogized with mighty words
a wax lyrical object
yet a fiasco
In her own sense…

The inept bard

I fail to see the nexus between conversations
But the nocturnal words come to raid me
I lounge about in the veranda at two
And get bloated with coherent letters
They say nothing
But chase for a fountain-pen
And create a dappled effect on my heart
I paint the calligraphic picture
In such a way that they have some cryptic codes
Only few can decipher the poetic poser
And only I know of the inverted answers
I courier my puzzles through a maze
And perhaps all succeed in building the culvert
But no one reads beneath the crevice
And no one sees the wet paper
Sometimes a poet dies of suffocated secrets
And he becomes nothing but a misnomer

My living cadaver

I stained my heart once
With your overflowing ink
Heart burns and nausea
Caught my remains
My heart still lies with you
And your whispers ruin me
The angular points of life
And the annul in me…
I have lost the track of time
And the sand is clasped in my hands
The cyclic scenery of the seasons
And my heart is all but a chalet now
I am going to die in a few days
But you will live;
Live in my heart
And I will count the ticks
Of my existence
Till my last breathe
And I will die with your name.

Vermillion hues and cerulean cues

I breathed the tang of life
Amidst the gleaming eyes
I ran parallel the river bank
Counting the poplars on my way

The pink wind played its tactic
Flirted with my lustrous locks
It almost made me pensive
Pinning scenes in a aberrant box

My cherry red cheeks blushed
As the blues romanced
Mistily mingling with each other
Secretly, they danced

I saw my wavy cerulean image
In translucent river curves
I made some funny faces
But no but He laughed

I splashed some water on my face
To consecrate me with love
I drew some desperate lines on the sand
It formed an instinctive caricature

I followed the boulevard
And my mind pointer
Life took its twisty turns
And I kept chasing the river…

Underground eruption

The seismograph recorded the massive quake,
Earthquake of 6.8 on the Richter scale
The devastated land was of the size of an enclosed palm
Surrounded by red water on the three sides
Brooks and rivulets passed through it
Though dead, it breathed the air of life
The peninsula always lounged in the faulty zone
Zone of high probability of quivers and quavers
The foundation was schmaltzy since eternity
With magnitude and intensity far above the ground
The 5.2 feet building collapsed
The land topography shuddered
Tsunami followed
And the terra firma got vacated…
The soil of the land
Was left in silent solitude
No one ever lived in again
No one touched the wet quaked ground; yet again,
It was no more than an apocalypse
A voyage from a fruitful terrain to an arid desert
No one can play with the tectonic nature of the earth
And the gambling games of God
We are mere puppets;
Dancing to the tunes and the threads of;
Our engraved destiny

The wet soul with the downpour

The first rhythms of rain
Head held high in abeyance
The leaves so much in wanting
For the kiss of the dew drop

The raindrop falls on the lash;
And the water seeping in
Someday it will pour out
And we will call it a "tear"

The smell of the earth
And the moistened heart
The stars shining there;
In my lustrous drenched hair

The rattling pages of my diary
As if his whispers; the wind carrying;
My vanishing acts of love
Like nothing is in it’s wanting

The flutters of the wet butterfly
Creating a hurricane in my heart
So much is invisible to the eye
Without those framed glass

The fragrant dance of the peacock
The yearly bath of the earth
I feel drowsy with these thoughts
Now say that the rainbow reinstalls faith!

My portraits have gone wet
And the alarm clock is in repair
I see my reflection in the brook
Where the paper boat is about to trip

The thunderous clouds feared the fire
The pyre that burnt my locks once
The rain poured outside the window pane
And the fire burnt secretly in a room turn

Do not shut the doors of your garret
Let the pitter patter wet your sanity
You can weep openly all through
And they will think you danced with the downpour!

The salt of spring

The hint of spring could be heard;
in the whispers of the blooming daffodils
The indigo tone of the sky;
Showing tell-tale signs of the squishiness inside

For those delicate jonquils there;
The yellow meadows gave the perfect landscape
Even we had the seeds in us
But they never united to blossom together

I had spread my February charm in the sea
To pacify those ironical calm eyes
My coiled waves trapped him
And he drowned in the dead sea of love

Fleet of ships were tilting and leaning
Moving to fit the space between my fingers
I vacuumed the room in my hand
And he died there in the windy storm

Spring brought the cyclone in my heart
And it bloomed the flowers in his courtyard
It was the season of growth; of renewal;
The birth of a new life and the death of my soul

The cadence of life

I danced on the cadence of my life;
As He kept singing the garden song,
I fell;
I rose;
I staggered;
Swinging onto my very own rhythmic beats…

I crossed the decades of duties and liabilities,
As I moved along the ant-trail,
I stirred;
I walked;
I followed;
The poetic path He laid for me…

Treading on the footsteps that He had set,
I ambled; as the thorns pricked me;
I bore;
I grew;
I climbed;
The life ladder He gifted me…

At a certain juncture of my voyage
Iniquitous life showed its colors
I lost;
I dissolved;
I vanished;
The Existence I had once established for me…

I burnt my ambitious journal;
And got myself blindfolded;
I stepped;
I stood;
I strolled;
On the corroded carvings of His miracle…

I plunked at the penultimate porch;
Smoothening the rough patch within;
I cleared ;
I brushed;
I cleaned;
My emotions; all from within …

He sent his felon at the periphery
Who had hid in my room besides;
I waited;
I breathed;
I gave up;
As he got me out of the Game…

Karmic plays

Probe into the place that’s hidden within,
The mirage of the over-hyped wise mind,
Unlock the surreptitious doors of perceptions,
Dive into the nothingness of the sea of divine

The white horses will wait for thee
And the storm will carry you into the abyss
Deceptive dreams will vanish in the mainstream
And your mortal will burn in the time of a wink

Smile at the italics of a nice resume
Bite yourself at the dawn of each day
Echo the reason of each breathe
Prepare every inhale for the D-day of death

Forget what the fortune cookie says
Win the cheated instincts on a fray
Don’t drift on to the Saturn ring of life
Adjectives cannot describe you in a profile

Let the lion within you roar with hunger
For the flesh of reality; let thy destiny lure,
Live into the thruth of lucid fantasy
The gift of life is your monopoly

The asinine hands of clock have no meaning
They have been taught to move one step further
Entangled in the ennui circle of numbers
They have forgotten the need of a beginning

The omens are stuck deep within
Then why to listen to rules of the thumb?
Karmas get accounted with acts and crimes
Conscience pricks like a needle every time…

Lose your consciousness for a while
Behold the beauty of momentary halts
Ride on your life in high spirits
Sagacious living is after all a myth…


I dipped my heart in the chasm of water
As the train passed through the bridge above
I crossed the seven seas of eternal love
Only to drown in his lustrous eyes

I remember the eager seconds
I last two steps to near him
The brushing of the shoulders
The crossing of the fingers

The imitation of emoticons
And the joy of silly jokes
The peck on my dimple
And the dints on my heart

Our paradise of lingering love
And our blissful brief hours
Always made me angry on the clock
For once, why can’t it just stop?

The dewdrops on the body
Were evaporating in the sky
And the journey memories
Were rotating in the mind…


Pranks in the elfin eyes
And sparkle in the mischievous smile

Two plaits tied with black ribbons
Impish sprite; she was in disguise

Chit chatting in between text books
Finding out the hiding school nooks

Caught by the teacher; giggling
Most of the times she was out – standing!

She bunked periods with acts of dizziness
Chalking out strategies for her monkey business

The school lab was her pet place
Spirogyra and skeleton; her ploy mates

“One notorious minx” she was called
A proficient in throwing paper balls

Teacher’s red inks had died…
With remarks; her calendar filled

Sweets in the uniform pocket entered the mouth
The moment the lecturer turned around

Painting was the all time favorite class
It was the holi for the silly lass….

Counting got at its best in 30 mins of history dose
101 times of “shut- ups” by Mrs. Bose…!

Years of fun passed….
Everyday was like a blast
School days were now converging ….
She was slowly changing….
They said “she was growing”
Now “realizing”….
All those who knew her
Hardly knew her….
Deep secrets were only in her diary
From the open sky
She was entering the aviary……

In memory of "M"

Mellowing mushiness,
This mystic muzziness,
Morning was mellifluous,
That character, magnanimous,
Meaningless Medleys,
Inside; Yes, No, May be…
Oh this maniacal macrocosm,
Matinee involved verbal malapropism…
Still an immature maudlin damsel,
My meadow got filled, all with myrtles
I, mind, museum, memories…
Multitudinous emotions,
Creates that marvelous magician…
Melding motifs
Mollycoddle moisturizer
Misty murmurs
And a moody Monsieur…

Gobbledygook Love

I am living in the shielded cocoon of my dreams in the hour glass where sand pours…
The secret dwell of my growing celestial feelings in the love galaxy where only I stay.
The cavalcade of trance beats of my life slowly plays to take me to his land; his palace;
Where the icy frozen bed embraces me and almost gives me a passing heavenly death
The dust on the rotating fan smirks as it observes the metrical beats of our breathes
And the yellow wallpaper grows on me as it smiles to hide the secrets that we share
The badinages and winces come to life as I see the hexagon pixels resembling him
The worded glint in my sinful sight exposes all but the mystery hid behind the reel
The sweet breathe of the chocolate smoke mingles in the air as love clouds swirl up
My green veins get visible enough with my controlled fists as the reds flow incessantly
I build a culvert on the ripples of my thoughts to suddenly get wounded by his razor
So might as well bask on the present beach; building sand castles in place of cement ones
Rapturous jiffies encounter me with every warm fleet of sensations warping up my body;
I jump on from one lotus leaf to another and lose the way to my lonely abode afar…
My chirps and his whispers muddle up to bring out emotions in our candid expressions
And I mould myself like clay to fit into the mood matchbox he keeps in his side pocket
I swing on to sleep in his cradle as he pampers to see pictures which will never be painted
I play the hopscotch of life trying to balance myself, picking up the pebble that lay beside
I feel like pushing the hard stone of ill-luck down the valley and straight into the ocean
The apathy of helplessness wears me out as I try fixing the same colored cubes together
Deep in the woods or on a lonely road, why does my shadow haunt me wherever I go?
No one sees my inner emptiness when I sound different with the use of those umlauts…
The best season of my life shall not come again and these flowers shall never bloom
But I still have to grow in the garden of time and bud in some other tree, some other life...
Will my paths change if I ring the auspicious bell of that old temple at the cross- lane?
June will be coming anyways and I shall be getting wet in the night rain like always…
The valleys separate the mountain peaks and unlike our fingers they shall never meet
May be our lives are on different but parallel acmes to see each other but remain away
I will survive with your footprints that follow the direction towards the Arabian Sea
I will live on the shore with memories and wish that you be merry on the other periphery
I perceive myself in the magical mirror that you gifted me on that treasured Tuesday
I find a new me inside the reflection but I see you hidden beneath; smiling like always
I am the participant of the face painting competition with no color no design put on me
Because everyday I comfortably wear a new mask of colors that they want me to be in
I sing the melancholy songs of pain so that their broken hearts can soothe momentarily…
They praise my pacific voice but who notices the saliva that I used; to swallow that lump
I wonder if I make sense of some utterances; some questions that have scarred my mind
There are some abstractions, some inquisitions whose answers are more than two lines
I think about penning down the ten line replies as I remove the split ends in my hair
I don’t want to reach an age where I remove the white hair still ignorant of those answers
Splash a bucketful of water on my face when I dream of reaching the podium of love
One does neither prepares a speech nor gets a reward to conquer a queen’s empty heart
After wandering a million years, I again met him on the same street down the bridge
After crossing circles and circles of miles we again smile at each other at half past three...

Caged Chameleon

She was facing a zillion personality syndromes,
Different people and different tones…
Gorgeous pretentious smile,
And apocryphal stories to say…
She was so artificially air-kissing,
with no real feelings or liking…
She seemed burnt inside,
But her face was charming bright
Her pseudo behavior and character colors
Were hidden just beneath her skin layers
Sure she wanted to be the party cynosure
But it was an anodyne only to cure her
An enigmatic emulator,
She had fabricated facets to her…
She got drunk to subdue her regrets
But claimed to celebrate that we all met
If it is true that eyes never say a lie,
She was all stuffed, choked, wanting to die…
What an irony of the creamy coated layer that she had to her,
Full of pompous glitz and showy glamour!
She was a girl who lived in two worlds
One of life and loneliness,
Other of society and spuriousness…

Bridal bane

Dressed in a red zardosi saree,
She was adorned to her maxim beauty.
The maang teeka and the bindi,
Complemented her fear and the fancy
The mehendi and the shehenai,
Celebrated the beginning of “sacrifice”
Symbolically a statue and ornamentally clasped,
Metaphorically a knot, she almost gasped…
Today was her wedding day,
And now on the rose petaled bed, she lay,
A little numbness,
A preferred dumbness,
She was frightful of the forceful,
But amidst somewhere she wanted to be cheerful,
With her illiterate imaginations,
And her corroborated contemplation,
She was waiting for the veil to be unveiled,
Just the way she had heard in fairy tales.
He would come and smile
And sit right besides
Hold her, heal her,
Caress her, comfort her,
Pamper her, talk to her,
Oh! How she all wished,
All those things would slowly happen all night!

Just at that thought, He entered,
Coming up to her,
Without an utter,
He unveiled her
Aggravating her fear,
He fiercely came close to her,
Not the way she softly wanted him to,
He touched her,
Not the way she gently wanted him to,
He lustfully felt her,
Not the way she had dreamt and desired,
He forced her,
She cried,
He slapped her,
She kept quiet,
He raped her
She died her dreams,
Heart ripped off,
Tears melting down,
She was shattered,
Dreams v/s the reality…
She wanted to be loved,
Not used,
She wanted to be his, willingly,
Not vigorously.
There she lay,
Still on the rose petaled bed,
Red, they still were,
But crumpled and creased all over.

Arabesque of the mind

The struggle keeps going
Between me and myself
Mind creating sudokus
And anomalous heart;
Painting rainbows

Constantly nagging;
My inner self
Lost in circles and circles
Of thoughts and stances
Trying to locate the epicenter

The battle drains me out
Psyche; the anvil
Constantly being hammered…
I do things that;
I never wanted to do!

Weird or wonderful?
Its complex to define
Desert rose in heart
And cactus garden
In maniacal mind!!

The cocoa butter life
That I was once living in
Suddenly has vanished
And the bitter crude;Reality
smiles at my doorstep

I muse over memories
A swing on a banyan treeI
recall rose scented finery
That warped up;
the petals of my body

Looking aimlessly at the stars;
My watery eyes twinkle up
I myself don’t recollect
What shine and spark seems to have lost!

Sunflower shadows

in yellow meadows;
Do not remain forever
The harsh sunrays
Sometimes fades away the color!!!

A candle is lit

A candle is lit
Sparkling bright
Burning desires
In the twilight

The melting wax
Liquefying emotions
A drop of sweat
A silent transformation

The flickering fire
Sweetening the pain
The disturbing air
And the pouring rain

The wax melts away
The slender stick vanishes
And the story begins
Of surrenders and sacrifices

Time elapses
And finds lost ecstasy
The Candle moulds itself
To fulfill his fancy