Spots, Dots and the joining Line..

Actors parody

2012-01-31T15:47:00.000-08:00

And he is trusted to walk the rope
keep up the hope

as they watch the game
gamble on his fate

as they drink their champagne
he is trusted
saluted

He, overcoming pain
limping, jump forward
snatch, scream

win to show them that he can.

and hope that they may look
clap, praise
for a minute's applause
we all perform on stage.

-ides-

2011-12-29T16:44:00.000-08:00

I feel cold,
I see you walk on toe-tip,
faint whispers from frail lips.
and I see the way you hide,
dissolving somewhere inside.

I see you in blur
fusing with others.
pushed by the chaos
to a deeper, darker side .

and you sway
you smile, deride.
I am in misery,
I am lost in a tide.

and you are flowing
in the circles of white
locking my sight,
with your maudlin eyes.

thoughtless, I hope to move
but my ankles are tied.
You are blooming in full glow
as I chafe, stuck in ides.

I am so afraid
I am so concerned about myself
that I may lose, that I may need help.
that you may no longer be there
tired of the wait
tired of me being so late.
tired, just tired.
and then you will walk away.

and you did walk away.

Ciao!

Deleting Browsing history

2011-12-16T19:56:00.000-08:00

Again,
I looked into your pale eyes
and your rusted words.
I remembered, relived
the juvenile anxiety,
felt the lost ecstasy, the pain,
the loss.

And this time,
I laughed
at my mistakes.
there were no fine strokes,
only faint, broad pictures,
living in the corner of my memory.

And I know I misunderstood
so much so many times,
I mistook so many signals.
I lost so many battles.
but still I don't feel wounded.
I am not hurt.
And that is my Win.

So,
I got up and lit up a fire.
and gently put, whats left,
over this gentle pyre.

So Long!

Spring and after effects.

2011-12-14T16:58:00.000-08:00

Well I,
twitched and twirled
whirled and swirled
had a laugh
had some fun.

For once I,
didn't thought
what is what
drink or drought
stopped to learn

And I freed myself
from all the worries
and
all mordant thoughts
all the sob stories

and then,
I pulled myself out of harm
and then,
I scurried to your arms.

{Blank} {/Blank}

2011-12-09T19:11:00.000-08:00

Enough. Enough Now.

B-Bye

2011-12-09T18:56:00.000-08:00

But where was I,

When the spring blew whistles

Over the swaying trees?

And where was I,

When golden foliage was getting

Crushed Beneath novelty’s feet?

Where was I, then?

Where were you?

Ah! Listening to birds’ ephemeral songs,

We strolled sans care on the ageing grass,

Deeming in that it will last.

You flipped your creed.

You were there, I see.

But where was I, then?

May be I was outside your glass palace,

When you were blowing those mournful sighs,

Glancing over shoulder, to your wasteful dreams.

Forgetting a part of that waste was “I”.

Trespassing your memory kaleidoscope,

My face must have surfaced and then eloped.

As you jittered inside your glasshouse,

I saw you.

Yes, I was then, there.

And I am still, here

Outside your house of glass,

Among the insignia of past.

I see you,

You have emotions still waving

As you laughed, you smiled

And then you cried.

You are still living,

I am watching you numb,

I have already died.

************************

Dyed Eyes die ( or beauty fades) (or Someone loves what someone hates)

2011-11-17T16:08:00.001-08:00

I boarded a ship and it was tied to the port.
For 2 years it dint move.
I looked at the doves from far off.

and all the while she saw me and smiled.
played with her hair, and her eyes- dyed.

Autumn greeted with sly smile
winter was harsh and riled.
few counted their memories
few mouthed their ghostly nights.

and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair and her eyes- dyed.

Changing colors, my friend and I see
dancing lights under a prism display.
I wanted to cross the river of guilt.
he wanted to enjoy the show wallowing in bay.

and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair and her eyes- dyed.

Then one day, as I walked off the boat
into the glimmering lights of shore.
She walked beside, close to my face
time stopped for the angel draped in lace.

and all the while she saw me and smiled
played with her hair but her eyes died.

My commiserations
but beauty fades!

Radiohead plays cold and etc.

2011-09-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

Sigh! Lovely things buried inside.
his voice, it is mixing with music.
guitar lures me too deep.
Closed eyes smile, weep.

Voice is gold plated
replete with sense
tied to the pain
glaring vague lens.

The music flows,
then spin, spin around him.
tying knots to his hand.
water rising up the knee.

he breathes his songs in
his stainless steel lungs, they burn.
he laughs- "who cares what to win".
his stainless steel lungs - dry, done.

And the film rolls
credits in bold.
A head with a radio
as music play cold.

But I am listening still.

Poet's Note : Currently listening to Radiohead music... B-E-A-UTIFUL!

My footprints over a velvet underground.

2011-08-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

what I have now?
Let's see -
few words that don't match
the thoughts in my mind
and thoughts, whose meaning
I am unable to find

A voice shouting Sunday morning,
and the roof, which I haven't seen
for so long.
A velvet undergound,
where I am gagged and bound.

Oh he says again, "It's a restless feeling,
oh, it is wasted years, that you are dealing"

and I say (rather should say)
"wait, you idiot, let there be day.
You will hide then,
your brother will creep out of shadow.
because you are young and callow."

And because it is late.
because it is too late.

Sleep off now.
You fool!

Poet's Note: "Sunday Morning" by Velvet underground...Exquisite.
Late night scribbling...as always .. Rooobish.

Purloined thoughts

2011-07-30T11:37:00.000-07:00

Keep quiet
open the windows
duck below
there is a lesson
there is a lesson
to be learnt.

He is a shadow
he can never be alone.
but is dark.
He's a broken star
He's a blinded star
mend him please.

She is a lore
Her children are bore
They go to slumber
as she remembers
herself
herslef
listen to her please.

She is so fine
marble skin washed in wine.
He drools at someone else
She waits alone, never tells
her heart is broken
her heart is broken
kiss her please.

I am in here
with blank stares
closed corners
confining borders
take me out in open
bring me out in open
leave me there please.

Oblique...for it is too late (or too early)

2011-07-22T17:02:00.000-07:00

As I grow old
I become less mystic to myself.
My shine is lost.
I am getting engulfed in whirlpool
spitted out of dream.

And I can see you
swirling in,
laughing
or smiling.
It is too fast, hard to tell difference.

But do I know you?

I am not irritated.
For I don't want more than much.
I am singing a song maybe
but hell, the same song, a lot of people have sung.

But what if I hum a different tune.
what if it is the one which only I hum.
or beat the drum like ...dum da dum dum.
whats the difference, if I am one of thousands or alone.
whether I stand in the front or the last one in the queue.
Among many or enchanting few.

Is it a start or the dying end.
Tell tell me dear friend.

For look at this huge land
I need to cover this.
But only till the sun shine.
And I slept when it was dark.
I dint see the sun rise.
and now the sun is red.

tell, have I slept too much
or too less?
Tell me have the battle begun?

For I can see only a red sun.
For all I can see is a red sun.

May be it's time. I am done.
May be it's time. should I run?

Maybe it's time.
maybe.....

Longings and Belongings....

2011-03-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

It’s been time.

Leaves have fallen by
as autumn strikes.
Dry winds and dry sky;
Dry skin and dry eyes;

left behind.

I see through the clocks,
And they turn and turn.
But I have been tied
unable to run.

As I remember you,
and your pearl smile.
your crayoned lips,
your penciled eyes.

and those pebbles thrown over the lake,
the counts of the bounces they did take.

And I think of
your creamy fingertips,
your enchanting whims.
your swing,
over the tyre tied to tree,
those closing eyes,
as oscillations increase.

And I hope still you stop
and turn around,
to a hunch of my
footsteps’ sound.

And I hope,
Still you dance
those steps I taught.
Yeah, I hope,
still you dance
to the tunes of yore.

So, if I left my crystal heart
under your fluffy stole;
and you don’t notice and I don’t recall
then sorry, now I can’t stop
let it fall.

Let it break,
It’s fine.
Belongings undone.
It’s been time.

Longings-
Still have me trapped.
To you, I am still wrapped.

With time I have found the knot,
holding it but still lost in thought.

I know with single pull,
I will unwrap, unhook.
Still my heart waits,
with that last, lamenting look.

Rabbit Burrow

2011-03-19T13:08:00.000-07:00

A man of polystyrene,
a decorative accessory,
fated, snoozing alarm
is he but not me.

Smiling twisted scotch tape
with a suspended animated gape
a gut feeling dropped, drained
is he but not me.

And he can never grow out of my name,
my job, my wallet, my nod, my state.
What a shame! What a shame!

He darts agony at them,
sips quiet wasteful tears,
sounds as last note of a requiem,
waving ship, he steers, he steers.

And he laughs!
handshakes, jokes, tricks
Alas! he laughs.

He jerks in a fit,
breath of angst.
No humour. No wit.
Still he laughs.
Still they laugh.
Alas!!

lets scratch the walls
of my brains now
as he is asleep under the lullaby of world
shove the earth. damn! plough, plough.
I had buried myself down there few years back.
I have come back for myself now.

Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!

The above piece is all about discovering the real self which we have left behind in pursuing something that we think we need to have. This is about the people who realize that they have become a "He" and lost an "I" buried down under a burrow.

Chance and Loss

2011-03-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

Her eyes - ruby, diamond, emerald type.
Her words, honey drops purified.
I love the way she twitched lips,
she swirled her fingers over the coffe mug.
Dint you notice , din't you notice how beautiful she is?

Clock has stopped talking,
time has passed crawling beside me.
I am still here.
and she is here waiting.

If I was you
would not have let her gaze across the tinted glass
would not let her wait
brought the buildings down
sank the rivers
crossed the mountains top
to be with her
but I am not you.

Oh! You damn fool
Oh! damn fool
I am here and you are not
but she waits for you
Oh damn, you fool
She waits for you.

Come along now.

PAUSE

2011-03-04T12:51:00.001-08:00

Why Time turn?
why can't he lie over his crooked back
with his face turned to other side,
clasping Change under his arms,
embracing her face to his breasts,
enticing her with his lullabies?

Why Time wake up
and let Change fly?
swashing away the composure of centuries.
and belittling every great try.

Why time has to be so adamant?
Can't for once he let her go?
break his promise to be with her?
Just wait, date a date.
marry a week, commit to some month?
be with them and not bail out again,
Not run away, again.
to be with her, to be with his Change?

Isn't he alone? Isn't he tired
for centuries now?
Running over the tombs of oblivion,
leaving footprints over history
and then overrunning those steps
in order to catch Change
to embrace her, to feel complete.

Why can't time just be late?
have patience, be static, wait,
tied to a single state?
Stranded on a moor,
with his great white beard
flowing in the breeze
and his dreary eyes fixed
over the blank blue horizon.

and for once,
let her pass,
let her go.
and be in peace.

Farewell

2011-02-09T11:47:00.000-08:00

When the mist will shed its ivory shroud,
shadows will be seen out of their sound.

Misery will cease, Life will flow.
Sun will snuff, but day will still glow.

And the world will smile,
even if just for a while.

then you will be free, ready to fly.
After an ephemeral pause, life will roll by.

Her lament for love

2011-02-04T12:22:00.000-08:00

If only he would have asked
with his heavy lid eyes,
looking up on my waiting glance,
asked me to come behind him,
tracing his footsteps on the wet sand
before they are erased by miffed sea of time.

If only, dear friend!
he would not have been scared by my silver anklets,
I would have taken them out and placed them by the drawer.
I would have thrown my shoes out of the window
and climbed his feet, embracing his breath.

If only he would have asked,
I would have lived by his touch,
flying happily along with his thoughts,
following him as heart follows love.

Why even ask, friend? even If only he would have
raised his eyes and looked into mine,
have shown a smile, or nodded his head.
If not called but only shown just enough trust
that I would be loved.
I would have scurried by his side.

I would have placed my golden bracelets by the drawer
and thrown away my diamond ring and satin clothes.
I would have handed over myself to his arms,
as pure as I could have, as true as I was.
Just so that he would let me climb his feet.
Just so that he would embrace my breath,
as I had embraced his.

If only, my friend
he had believed that my love was only his.
If only my friend, If only, I wish.

Ultrasound

2011-01-17T10:10:00.000-08:00

So, you think you know it all
you can sieve right from wrong.

So, you think you can tell
where lies beauty and where is hell.

So, you think you are so smart
up your sleeves all wining cards.

so, I should let you decide,
which path I should ride.

and in your beamishing voice, you say
you will hide me secure, never let me astray.

explain me all the drifts of game
keep me away from the hurting flame.

but sorry, sorry I can't understand
your sweet music is just a blaring band

and sorry, I can't hear you aloud
Just stop talking in this ultrasound.

My mistakes, let them be my own mistakes
let me lose my share before something I take.

Let me bruise, skin my belief while alive.
let me wither, shouting at top of my voice.

Let me play with my own hand of cards.
let me lose, let me be distraught.

I just don't want to win, I want to be proud.
So stop babbling, stop talking in this ultrasound.

Sorry and likewise

2010-12-30T11:26:00.000-08:00

You stood chewing your lips
I waited with silent poise
our glances were the thieves
stealing images of lowered eyes

You din't speak,
I couldn't think what to
Young; we talked so much
still got this hush in lieu

It wasn't fair! Not fair!
But sorrow has everyone's share

So, I bade farewell,
no tears fell
neither any promises exchanged

An apology was paid with my weary eyes
and your dolorous look soughed- "likewise".

Spring Boots

2010-08-28T13:18:00.000-07:00

Downwards,
I face earth;
revolving land
comes closer,
surrounding me
in fading colors.
I am alarmed.
how quickly I fell?

and I wish
I could recoil.
Then, can we reconcile?

If somehow I pull out
my spring boots
and rebound, re-shoot
up; up to you.
Will you say "hi"?
or derisively-"nice try".

Gravity bangs my head to past
I remember my foolishness
I am sorry; I am aghast.
I deserve the fall.
But I can stall,
if you can
pardon my heinous crime,
give me one more chance,
just this one more time.

Then I will bring out my spring boots
I will rebound, re-shoot
up; up to you.
and will never plunge into depths again
before I crash, call my name,
call me to bring out my spring boots,
one last time rebound, re-shoot
up; up to you.

and I am going down!!!

Sunglasses

2010-08-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

What was there to see?
It was all cliched
It was all predictable
It was cleanly ordered
and was fairly labelled

The mob had all the known gestures
the greetings were rehearsed the night before
the weather turned out damp and grey
as good as the forecast had foretold

Disinterested people weren't interesting
so I din't push my efforts in vain
I concealed myself into darker sights
I didn't even try to feign

I strolled amongst us for a while
sticking along a polite smile
and then after a while
I slipped inside to hide.

What??

2010-08-03T12:40:00.000-07:00

Little drops are
now bubbles in the sky
My dreams grew wings
My dreams can fly!!

And as sunlight crosses
a rainbow splits
I had slept alone
But I woke up amidst !!

for the shine,
the winged reflections,
are causing relaxing swell
along the suiting contractions.

Everything, now above my eyes.
All are enrolled in my sense
Flying, flying , flying away
are these my desires or pretense??

A brazen mockery of weak!!!

2010-05-20T12:21:00.000-07:00

In the twist of fate,
The weak die; the weak wail;

They crawl on their knees,
They blame the gods.
They genuflect to the greats,
and offer a servile nod.

They cry their tears,
And mitigate their selves.
They are Agony of misery,
Misfortune of whelps.

They cry for morals,
and the equality of beings.
and decry the flight
of a hero with wings.

They live in the world,
foregone and unseen,
with their trivial wants,
but unending needs.

They always crib
with smile on their face.
won't leave any footprints,
no trace, except their graves.

They journey their wasteful life
through the much trodden path.
befool their guilt and aver,
"these landmarks, everyone pass."

That it is the way of life
to bend and to retreat.
To face the life bare self
can only be a moron's dream.

Oh! but the mighty,
he laughs at destiny's call.
he merely tweaks his presence
and the mountains fall.

He bends the laws,
makes gravity fly.
Lives like an Immortal,
and let mortals die.

Objective Intellect

2010-02-25T06:55:00.000-08:00

There were dunes,
and there were times.
There was a whistle,
and an uncanny rhyme.

and I was dwarfed,
sometimes by my thoughts,
my shines, my bloats
and my naked little footsteps.
I was belittled, I was dwarfed,
manytimes by my dreams
my carings, my screams,
and my unhindered desires.

The seasons went meaningless,
The scenery changed so fast,
the difference was left to rest.
and I was left meaningless.

The multicolored throng
tightened close,
looking at horizon,
cried out the prose:

"What you want changed?"
"What you would have?,lad"
"How it would have been,
if it wasn't to be this?"
"Would any changing in past
will lead you to your wish?"

and I know, they have me caught
No excuses or remorse can be bought
and with dwindling self
I admit with a shaking voice,
"Nothing better; Nothing worse"
and they say in unison
"Then just REST!! REST!! REST!!"

The healing takes a while...!!!

2010-02-15T09:35:00.000-08:00

The black sky with heavy groan
was up, up above my head,
and everyday the same grunts,
same howling from the deads.

the past was present
and was eating the life away
I lived the nights awake
and dreamt away the wasteful days

and I hoped
the healing must
take some time.
I wished
the healing may
take a while.

and Everything was gone
Everything was whooshing past
just a moment was eternity
and still the time didn't last.

I was thrown away,
put away in exile
by the pretty-pretty smile
I was dashed,
I was dazed
by those eye's maze.
and I was left alone for a while
by the pretty pretty smile.

and I hoped,
the healing must
take some time.
I wished
the healing may
take a while

and when it felt
the darkness is day
life is unbaked,
soaking bricks of clay.
I found you

and the sunshine herald
clouds purged n' disengaged
and I found you burried
under my rage.

and the sun shines now
You take my hand and smile
we can dance again to the tune
dear! we can dance again, aye!!

and I now know,
the healing takes a while
the healing takes some time.

A memory for a "Memory"

2010-02-15T08:02:00.000-08:00

Memory's wonderful but its true,
We leave old things and cling to new.

A human nature or we had evolved as such,
I had no clue , even after thinking much.

what I know, dew will vaporize with rising sun.
it cant be picked up off the grass and placed in urn.

But we can wait for the next dawn.
When shining dew will smile on the lawn.

And run fingers over the wet grass.
Imbibe the feeling; and belive, the memory will last.

Well the above piece was written as a comment by me to a friend's post and as I was again going through this friend's blog, I noticed the comment, reread it and found it nice...and thought to place it here...so that may be many years down the line ...I will see it again and rejoice.

cheers

Chocolat...!!!

2010-02-06T09:19:00.000-08:00

Kiss me!!
I will hold up your senses.
Kiss me!!
and the love journey commences.

I may be dark, but aromatic
and I taste so so good,
close your eyes,
taste me, love me, oh! you would.

I will flow through you
I will drip,
and take you through
the ecstatic trip

I may be a bit sour,bit tart.
Sweeter!! you may wish.
But I will have you,
for I am impossible to resist.

So, Kiss me again,
bite me harder.
Close your eyes
for play has just started.

And I will flow through you
I will drip,
make you dance with me,
under this ecstatic trip.

As time will grow old,
and you sense an addictive play,
you will run for hiding,
but don't you know? you can't run away.

And I will be all over you again
"ah!! not any more", you will wish.
But I will have you darling,
for I am impossible to resist.

(It's a vague attempt at sensuality.... mixing a bit, to make it a bit tangy and darker..and voila...ummm)

Banal bystander

2010-01-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

Kya kare Zindagi, isko hum jo mile,
Iski jaan khaa gaye, raat din ke gile.

The days are nowadays like the electric poles next to railway tracks. And my life, the train, is whooshing past so speedily that I am unable to detect any noticeable differences among the poles....all feel bloody same.

Lemon Tree

2010-01-21T09:24:00.000-08:00

I wondered and wondered. I was baffled and annoyed. How come I forgot it, and if I have to forget why I didn't forget all of it, why this tiny scratch of memory....crap...
But the tune stuck with the words...I wonder how, i wonder why. Just these six words...not anything more....and I wondered and wondered without even knowing what I was wondering.

Days passed, months passed....may be even a year passed..and the tune moved to the darker hind spots in mind....ready to dilute to oblivion.
And then one friday evening as I was lying tiredly in a vegetative state in front of my TV watching VH1, a video splashed....a guy sang...and under 2 minutes...I was ecstatic..I was delighted to the core...running around room in an hyperactive state (and thank god none of my roomies was there or they would have surely called for an ambulance from yerwada).

I smiled for long..and after long time...the feeling of getting back something which I had even forgot of loosing was ineffable.

And I wondered how and I wondered why....and all along it was just another LEMON TREE.. :)

Time Swing

2009-12-21T10:08:00.000-08:00

I am in motion;
swaying rather,
for no distance is covered.
and whistling to my ears
the gust says
time is wretched.

Time is knave
It will fool you around.
Time will cheat
will dig you in ground.

And time won't laugh,
or time won't weep,
for time feel nothing,
your memories; time won't keep.

It will stroll
with its uncaring gait.
You may hold your breath;
but for you, it won't wait.

You need to drift,
you need to flow;
You need to evolve,
you need to grow.

Don't let time
dribble you away,
Drift along,
just don't sway.

A SuperHero Story

2009-11-27T12:54:00.000-08:00

I am no hero,
never want to be one;
I don’t want to fly
and caress the sun.

I want to cry;
want to be petrified;
feel betrayed; curse with
chewed lips held tight.

I can’t always stand to be brave,
I want to be on my knees.
pray, and garner hope,
get caressed and weep.

I am no hero;
I don’t want to be the one.
I don’t want to fly
and caress the sun.

I want to be with them,
the hearts and souls of me;
take them in my arms and
hide away from stark reality.

I want to be in the crowd
with that helpless look.
and as the brave souls fight
hide; hide only if I could.

I am no hero
never wanted the role;
overrule the call
unheard what I am told;

But then who?
Somebody have to.

And if any single soul
can take my rifle and fire,
do my dirty job;
with a smile, I will retire.

But guess I am the best;
no other can do it better,
so, I would clean the wretch.

and will face the bullets
the mindless hand grenades;
I can’t hide, no time to weep,
have to crawl beside the dead.

But believe me,
a hero, I never want to be.
Believe me; even heroes pray,
and have unfulfilled dreams;

for I never wanted to be a hero;
never wanted the role;
there is no pleasure
in impaling a chest with holes;

yes, for now I am your hero,
a gentle soul with a firing gun;
I will do the filthy job,
till there comes another brave son;

( A tribute to the NSG commandos fighting that fateful day a year ago... real heroes)

Apocalypse Now...Atlast

2009-11-07T03:05:00.000-08:00

Really bored of writing poetry....specially as there is no muse to amuse...it has become impossibly hard to find any other topic but my favourite of a disillusioned being wandering and cursing with chewed lips. I am really bored. I have to search something optimistic, something to cheer up. In a way I have hit plateau even before I could have commenced the journey uphill.
The last one...House of Cards ....has its name picked up (or as Mudit says”blatantly plagiarised” from a Track of Radiohead...wonderful song) and have personally favourite tone of a lost being... but this time not blaming or fighting but already accepted defeat with no lamenting left...just trying to escape but unfortunately still stuck there. The idea propelled by an image that I conceived........a guy with painted face and having a downward curled lips made from thick burgundy colour and artificial expressions; dance, fall and perform hilarious histrionics. He is dressed in a ragged coat, have a round hat, a stick (using to perform the act) and black pants with strips that are hesitating to reach his toes. The ebonized stage has a spotlight...and the buffoon is performing there. The dappled floor reflects the light and shows us a gentle damsel with saddened face and lost eyes sitting with her chin resting on the palm. The clown is trying his best with all the fool play but can’t get her attention. And still is not ending the performance...still not leaving the stage...It should have a soothing music as background. This scene is a wonderful shot and maybe someday I will utilise the thought somewhere. And as I am writing this piece, a friend appreciated my ability to do totally useless things with great panache. Well of course he is right; it certainly takes something to do this.
So, let us end it here....the rest actually doesn’t make sense. Ok ...So what’s more.....Yeah...
Recently I saw Apocalypse Now. bahut itminaan se banai movie hai..... The director took all his time... really nice and really insane... sometimes I think I have to stop seeing these psyche twisting movies. They always leave a permanent scratch in my mind. But this movie is must watch....Even if it shove you into deeper and darker hind spots of mind... and make you face the truths which after being revealed ..heals nothing...but leaves scars...and forces you to remember the horrors.
Ok...now I am bored writing this stuff too...It is also not making any sense.

House of Cards

2009-11-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

I am standing alone,
with lights spotting on me
you sat on the darker table,
looking somewhere,
somewhere, where I am not
so beautiful you,
lost in other's thought.
and I danced, I joked
I slipped to give the petals of rose
a tinge of smile...
Did they flutter,
Did they blossomed?
No, for they will smile for him

I want to run,
I want to leave,
take my baggage with me
and leave you here
with your blank stare,
your woes and your little prayer.
It would be so easy,
No final goodbye
No misty eyes, no sighs
No consolations,
No surprises or revelations.
No more seekings, no more hides.
I want to Flow, run, fly...
away...somewhere...nowhere.

But you are still, not moving.
Sitting pretty with your palm under the chin
and I think " I know your fears
I dont need your hints."
I cant leave you alone.
So, I have to stay
I have to fall more,
Laugh more and joke
until he takes you away.
I have to be there,
take the pain,
I will bear it,
if it gives you strength.

I can see him approach,
I can sense your faint smile
I can sense you healing,
you have been alone for a while.

and he seems to be so much like me....
how can i compete,
make myself win
by handing myself defeat.
So, goodbye..
hidden tears,no cries

I will blow my house of cards
slowly,slowly in disaligned parts
and the gust will carry it out,
what is it for,if you arent here, my heart?
I am blowing my house of cards,
You hide your cards safely,
under your fluffing stole,
in place of my heart
and the stories that I have told.

LEFTOVER!!!

2009-10-20T12:03:00.000-07:00

A sudden bump to the past,
a face lost, effaced from memory glass

what was I?
what I wondered?
what I dreamt?
what I hoped for?
what i thought?

Lost
Lost
Lost......

Austerilized!!!

2009-09-20T06:58:00.000-07:00

Totally preposterous... a controversy over Tharoor saying Economy class to "Cattle Class". It was a joke , everybody can understand. But the Great Indian Political Circus continues. And.. stupid austerity drive.... All their lives the "Holy Cows" travel at expense of Indian Public... and then once they travel on the Economy and Media start publishing their "breaking News"...get over it please.

They cant sterlize the problems by not spending money...but providing others with oppurtunity to earn money...

Mr. Tharoor spending his HARD EARNED money in any fashion should be a area of concern to him only. What they want to say....should he devote all his money to charity?? Please...start taking politics as a serious profession...bring in the best and ask them to excel and not become super human ...KARN.....
Solve the problem please don't create....
and also Tharoor travelling in Business class is helping the struggling Airline sector...pumping in required mullah to save some jobs.... an unseen charity...isnt it....uhh...

But all theses Hypocrite politicians ... god!!!...damn them....!!!

Art and Lie

2009-08-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

I deemed
in everything beautiful.

I saw the dust trough the sun
and I notice the glitter.
I saw the eyes,
so damp and vague
and felt the beauty in tears.
I saw him,
in tattered clothes, ragged self,
and his misery seems so dear.

Art, a lie;
It can't show me the real.
Art, a facade,
Now I want to unhide the rear.

Lost the Rhyme

2009-08-08T01:05:00.000-07:00

A line runs through me,
connects me, unplugs me too;
and I, like a past record
beat up and sing through.
What is this line?
What's this dim shine?

What am I?

What are you?

Lost in self,
we walk together.
You dont see me in my eyes.
And I know, I will always look up to you,
into those shinning gem like eyes,
as long as you hide from mine.

I know I have stumbled and broken it,
that something that wasn't mine,
and I recollect that it was yours;
wasn't it?

And as I reread above,
I feel as a novice;
I have lost the words,
but that would have been okay,
worst is I have also lost the rhyme.....

Ooooohh!! I have lost the rhyme.

Comatose

2009-08-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

Words break,
I hear the snap;
Vision blurs,
and I see the vague.
I smell
my breath,
babbling my own words;
Thirst binds throat,
Loosen up veins.
Heart loudly shouts,
but intermittently.
and it feels like
a quagmire eats me.
Sleep is inducing my senses.
keeping bound,
behind the fences.

But something liberating
in loosing up everything;
world lost but life blown in
as comatose win.

The Burden of Fate

2009-03-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

The eyes closing with increasing crease on forehead;
The heart beats faster and every breath was spent
on futile attempts to move forward the cart.
The tethers tightened over shoulder with pain of piercing dart.

It moved a bit under the May-Sun;
The heat making the load, heavier by a ton.
Sweat dripped like a thatched roof leaking in monsoons;
Sweltering under his own courage, the man droops.

The muscles contracted in a rhythm;
The body was weak and febrile.
Teeth clashed violently and lips parted;
The despondent face gave a virtual feeble smile.

Two old hands supported the cart’s end;
A weak arc back was acutely bent.
His grey hair was perfect companion for his gloomy eyes;
His sweaty palms lacked the strength that will suffice.

The old man had no future ahead,
Only an abysmal past;
After fording many fierce streams,
still had to cross an ocean so vast.

“Oh! Just a little bit more and then we are through the steep”
Shouted the old man; standing bare feet on the burning concrete.
The legs moved again, the wheels rolled a bit more,
but still the languid bodies have no leisure to afford.

The man pulled the burden of his youth;
The old man pushed the burden of his past;
for the gargantuan load of their lives was
getting heavier by every moment so aghast.

It was May in Lucknow, and it really gets hot there at this time. A young man along with a pretty old guy (may be his grand father) was trying to pull up a over loaded cart under the merciless, boiling sun.The struggle in pulling up the cart, specially of that Old fellow who is pushig the cart from back with all strength is evidence of the failure of the social system in this world.

Success is not a destination; but a lifelong journey !!!!!

2009-02-22T07:02:00.000-08:00

Two more steps,
And I will touch my goal;
The journey has finally ended,
No more sojourns.
There is no wait left.
I just need to push open the doors.
No more guessing of what’s in the store.

The fate has raised the curtain,
Finally I am there.
The goosebump die out;
killing the “Low Confidence” sound.

I won; and I remind myself “I will be” statement.
The sweat taste sweet now, the sweat bear scent.
I am through.

And they who love me
Pump their fist.
This is a triumph of their belief,
Testimony is their eye’s mist.
They hug and celebrate;
Laugh in an animated state.

As they exult in my approach to the goal;
My sense is caught with…….

The milestones left behind;
The dust of the road side;
The broken bridge that I mended;
The quagmire where I was stranded;
The little hand that shove me out,
The pretty voice pepping me before every bout;
The wrong-directions sign posts;
The sore thumbs and broken bones;
The rising up after every fall;
Every inch that I had to crawl;

I think of the complete journey,
Every lesson; all the learning;

All the chasms that engulfed me
But spitted out as someone better

I recollected and realized; this journey is my win.
The END; it doesn’t really matter.

Serendipity

2009-01-30T23:24:00.000-08:00

Twinkling eyes,
They touch and smile;
Lips always have muddled pain.
May be she also burnt in rain.

He was a vagabond,
for his fate bantered;
Souvenirs of his broken heart;
Squandered like past season's greeting cards.

When they met and
laughed with muffled giggles,
Sore hands caressed wounds and tickled.

Lost was time;
Thoughts left barren.
His essence in her myrrh; her vision in his gaze;
Their love was baked in alluring blaze.

Angels smiled,
for the broken heart bits melt;
and reformed into an elegant diety,
As heavens cried "Serendipity".

Will, Defiance and A defiant Will

2009-01-25T02:55:00.000-08:00

The doors were bolted,
the breeze,stranded in courtyard.
But chimes still ring,
with heavy beating overcast.

Lost to destiny,
A sound plugs can't hide.
The monsoon has arrived.
The acidic rain will bite.

The roof,
plastered last season.
But alas! I know,
the ceiling will indulge in treason.

The will is so defiant,
It will leak.
Rain will chafe the heart.
Drenched heart will tweak.

A Quatrain of Dejection

2009-01-25T02:46:00.000-08:00

With teared up heel on desert sand,
His limp deformed his tired shadow;
And with the wind piercing his mortal self.
The vision Contracts, falling in narrow.

Slumdog Indian; Is it??

2009-01-25T01:52:00.000-08:00

The claim is coming thick of finally placing India on the centre stage of world cinema with Slumdog millionaire. I haven't seen the movie yet but will see it.

But as much I appreciate the presence of a large Indian crew in making of a worldwide acclaimed movie, I am still quite sceptic of calling it anything near to an Indian movie. True,the movie is inspired by an Indian novel. But going by that standard every third Bollywood creation should be notified as a Hollywood movie because of the penchant of Indian filmmakers to Lift the western Ideas from a Hollywood DVD.

The cast is Indian, but it have to be if the movie is to be placed in India. They cannot have a 'gora' running down the slums claiming as an Indian. We are way too different.

(This remind me of the great ability of Indian filmmakers in past era who easily gave a twisted accent and a golden wig to make an Indian actor as foreigner.To Great Indian mass, you can offer anything on the platter and they will gulp it. But I agree time has changed).

So, even If the characters are predominantly Indian and the spirit of movie, as claimed by Danny Boyle, is of Mumbai, it leaves little for India to be over the moon. The Director and production is British. The screenplay writer is British.The male protagonist or in a more filmy lingua "hero" of the movie is British. The movie is a British movie and the truth is, it's a movie made by a British with his sensibilities. And I have severe doubts that had an Indian with his sensibilities, made this same movie, would it have caused such a stir worldwide?

And their is nothing to feel small. The rush for Oscar is out of my understanding. We have an artistic and eclectic Cinema. But our sensitivities are different from West. It's not necessary they understand us. They may find the dialogues which have us rolling on floor as mundane. To have recognition from them is of course better but expectation is futile. For it is in no way a measure of our greatness or dexterity in the art and entertainment of cinema.The truth is we should stop lamenting for OSCARS and make some Indian awards of the reputation of Oscars. And to achieve that, first of all we have to make them transparent. But surely Awards or no awards, with the current trend Indian movies are and will go great guns. It seems Industry has come to age. And I hope and deem that in coming time Indian Movie Industry will give stiff resilience to the domination of Hollywood.

But, For Rahman, its a true achievement. He has over the time given some great music and the Globe is a justification for that. I keep my finger crossed, that on Feb 22, he have something to cheer.

Moreover, a different section also claims that the movie has shown the underbelly of dirty-murky Mumbai. Well if the plot is set in such a place I think you have to justify by going into slums. And all those who claim this is not true INDIA, must make me understand how much 'TRUE' India they see in Mr. Johar's Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gam or KKHH or Chopra's Mohabattein or DDLJ . I can bet no part of Chandni Chowk in Delhi is like shown in K3G at any time of year( with a bunch of 100 trained dancers exploding the scene in a jiffy) and I have never been to any village where farmers are singing in Unison with Girls waving sugarcanes and persons happily swinging on a overcrowded bus's roof. Actually Danny has put a step ahead than his Indian counter parts in going and shooting into the real places that story demands. It's true that it shows dirty India but may be the story is about dirty India. A movie about vibrant India will portray upsurging India. How can you have all of the India in some cinematic shots. We cannot capture whole of a person, leave alone a nation and that too a nation like India.Even the thought is preposterous. And if Dirty India sells, then there is much too it than just a movie.

So, stop criticizing or being too ebullient and accept that its a nice foreign production placed in India with substantial Indian contribution. But sadly I find only that much to rejoice.But the hype will drive me to theaters to watch it for sure.

--NERVES--

2008-12-28T03:20:00.000-08:00

A stupid sense has caught me in.
My legs have frozen up with this din.

A horn just blast up and a vehicle passed;
I tremble backwards, I am not so fast.

The “Nerves” have caught me, froze me still,
The fear has revolted against the will.

The highway is dark; now only that I can see,
The headlights seem to cast silhouette over me.

And I know I have it in me to get over par,
But every try is resisted by invisible bars.

I know these bars are nothing but the “NERVES”,
Hidden inside the brain; under these muscular curves.

Just for a second if I can shove up my verves,
Burst with all intent and crush up these paralyzing nerves.
I will be on the other side of this highway.
Just a burst! Or for too long here I have to stay.

~Betrayal~

2008-12-28T02:47:00.000-08:00

In the night, the sky was dark and grey.
The storm was approaching; was not far away.

And today, in this night, I was called on the bridge.
The winds were icy; I felt that I will freeze.

As I was moving on, a fright just seized me.
“What if she doesn’t turn up to meet me?”

Ah! How patiently had I waited for this night!
How my eyes had wept to get her sight!

And how impatient I am today?
Nothing can stop me; neither storm nor quake.

The moon looking like the face tried to play hide and seek.
The clouds favoring me showed what I wanted to see.

When I reached bridge, she was there.
Her face shone and her skin was fair.

I reached her and touched her;
The emotions choked the words.
All that could be heard was a murmur.

She smiled and felt shy,
No gestures I possessed for reply.

Then she came close,
I felt the air out from her nose.

And then I embraced her.
I saw a dark figure in the light of moon;
But closed my eyes; taking that hug as a boon.

Suddenly, I felt great pain.
I tried to take her away, but all was in vain.

Again she gave the kiss of death;
Again I agonizingly gasped for breath.

Then, I pushed her aside;
And saw the cunning smile that she couldn’t hide.
But by heavens! I was still alive.

I stood still and looking at her thought; for my whole life
I could have died at the slightest indication of her eyes.
Still she stole the thing which was hers, not mine.

Ah! Again much higher pain;
But from where was it gained?
I turned back and saw my friend;
And realized that is my end.

MOONSTRUCK

2008-12-28T02:44:00.001-08:00

The days are so dull; nights are bright.
I can’t see; there is too much light.

Why it happened to me? Is that my luck?
Why I wake up all night? Am I moonstruck?

In the dark, solemnity surmounts;
Bawdy voices, freaking sounds
Blood stained cry; red star in the sky.
I am loosing hope with a pathetic smile.

Still bantering with ruins of my dreams
feels like music, these astringent screams.

Nakedly standing in the front of mirror;
I brazenly gaze the wounds on the figure.

Charlatan, am I?
To myself and the world outside.
Are my thoughts arcane?
Will they go in vain?

Chasm is wide;
These fears will never hide.

In front of mirror everybody will remain naked.
Even if the world praise; soul will castigate.
Forever! Forever!

~A Parting Song~

2008-12-26T07:01:00.000-08:00

Make things beautiful even at worse of times;
Sing your songs even as you go out of rhymes.

Not everyday there will be rain;
Sometimes smile will be replaced by pain.

It doesn’t matter how many times you hug me;
But refrain yourself from saying the final goodbye.
You really have to live for each moment;
And in love, for nobody you have to die.

The tides of time can take us far;
I’m not good swimmer and can get drown.
But hey! You swim to the shore;
Because you have to find out jewels many more.

Life is beautiful; if this you have understood;
Then I have achieved what I thought I should.

Never cry for me, if I am not with you;
Hold me in your heart as grass holds dew.
No matter if I vaporize as the life’s heat increases with day;
I will always leave you fresh, happy and gay.

Promise me to smile always and feel the world’s beauty;
With my sight deep inside your eyes; it’s now your eternal duty.

HARD TIMES..

2008-12-25T06:51:00.000-08:00

The ivory boat; you jumped in; I followed the trail.
You smiled at me then fluttered the sublime sail.
The sky was clear azure with soothing gale.

Then the ship wrecked in the voyage to paradise,
When was dropped this anchor of hard times?

The child in me cried with soundless wails,
Petrified, he sees the thrusting coffin nails.
Now even the demure light dies, it evaporates.

And they say pay the bills for these hard times.
Is it my crime? Is it my vice? That we live in these hard times?

The love that we believed in, how it failed me?
How it turned into a poisonous seed?
For it bears doleful weed with dead leaves.

And you say it will happen coz autumn is nigh; sigh!
“Aye, Song will be out of rhyme; dear! These are hard times.”

Can you kill my heart to abate this pain?
Drown me down in the sea of bane?
You could, but I can’t come undone from the burning rain.

I have burnt for long with my desires; now ember flies.
Everything is charred in the inferno of hard times.

PROLIFIC LOSER

2008-12-25T05:11:00.000-08:00

Prolific loser, is that me,
How to define who is ‘me’?
To be churlish and to be sublime,
Want everything at a given time.

Loser because all I used to hold
Was stolen or I get it sold.
Selling them, the things that I found,
Was to be mine, it was fortune bound.

Prolific is the manner I loose,
So many choices, always worst I choose.

I wander on the sand of time,
In my fist I hold a dime.
This dime is painted blue,
Oh! Tell me is that you?

Prolific loser! I have lost everything.
‘Prolific loser’; this tag stings.

Oh! But if this dime, that I have saved
From this gloating world, miseries and pains.
Oh! If this dime is YOU,
I am a winner who had his due.

OuT Of The WiLd

2008-09-11T07:59:00.000-07:00

Sleepy grey with a tinge of glint;

Footprints on the damp soil;

Gush of wind chasing wilderness;

The blackness hides crooked questions' coil.

The phantom throngs never depart;

and the deafening Babel rain;

the directions misleading the course;

as I change the tread again.

Farther, the landscape entice;

but tired limbs betray;

I oppose the tease and garner strength;

“No more wander; Here, I stay."

And then I felt the beauty;

It blinds;

I am through now.

I am out of the wild.

TRAVELER

2008-09-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

To carry on the show;

I tasted height; flew in air;

Now have to rise from the floor;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

The river is wild but had to row;

the wildness will hide after time;

The calmness will reside in the flow;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

and It happened before you know;

if I stop I will be with nothing;

If I move; I don’t know where to go.

But still I believe in your say;

I had to leave the bay;

and swim the dead sea,

Walk the desert with bruised toe;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.

About Me....... a Picture...Imperfect...

2008-08-09T03:27:00.000-07:00

Standing in front of mirror, I just gazed.
A figure so hazy around, I was completely dazed.
The paint so lost, the paper in shreds;
but still shinning golden frame.
I scratched my head & strolled for long
in my forgotten memory lanes.
I knew him damn! I know him yeah,
but can't recollect the name.
Do you know him; tell if you know me,
Come & bring me out of this puzzling pain.

I checked my eyes, have I lost my sight,
Turned back and saw lovely prizes won in life.

All over the wall, I saw the pictures of my friends,
The splendid years of life, with whom I had spend.
These wonderful pictures which I placed in costly frames,
They had faces that I can't remember, Oh! What a piteous shame.

These were the pictures of trust; they smiled at my every joke.
My broken dreams they shared, crying my tears as their own.
How easily but I let them go & was forced to live forlorn.
But that time thought, “Hey! On Earth wasn't I born alone?”
This mirror man! Wasn’t he companion of my fate?
See the irony now; I have messed up even his name.

I saw again the mirror; saw through the labyrinth of eyes,
They looked as mine, but damn! No higher the curtain rise.

Alas! So lost was I, in making my golden frame,
To place my picture in best, I bore so much pain.
The frame was gained & was prettiest of all,
But the person in my picture, how was he called?

So if about the man in mirror you have any lead,
Come and please tell the noun about me!!!!

The Rose and the Nightingale....

2008-08-02T00:50:00.000-07:00

It was a sweet summer, with shining raindrops,

The streets were Barren, without any mobs;

In this season of love,came upon a nightingale;

In a garden lavishly holding,drops on flowers like spangle.

The Nightingale came flying, from far off lands,

Had traveled through mountains,rivers and sands;

The bird felt tired, so rested on a tree,

Sang a melodious song, which spell bounded everybody;

Every leaf applauded the song, as did every flower,

The praise inspired her and she sang with all her power.

In the midst of these there was a white rose,

That it was prettiest of all, everybody supposed;

The nightingale opened its eyes after the song,

And saw the white rose among the throng;

In the first sight the cupid struck.

The nightingale saw the beauty dumbstruck.

The love bitten Nightingale, went to the rose,

Holding true love in her heart,to him she proposed;

The Rose in his pride and arrogance,

Did not heed to the bird’s plight;

Instead told the bird that he’ll love her,

When from the dull white he will become reddish bright.

She looked to the rose with the tearful eyes,

And with a smile surmounting painful sigh

Embraced the flower hurriedly,

tearing her body with the spikes & winning the bet,

As everyone saw the blood oozing out of nightingale's body,

that had made the flower red.

The rose saw the pure & unselfish affection of the bird,

and cried like he has gone mad,

As the bird has filled his heart with love,

but in front of him, on ground, she lay dead.

Every passing day, the rose cried of this woeful crime,

And never let anybody touch him in all his life time;

This is just not a heart wrenching story,

but an eternal love tale

Of the white rose and his beloved,

The Nightingale.

A Stroll to Perdition

2008-07-27T05:42:00.000-07:00

It started with a whimper;
And that fake wicked simper.
He took the pouch in his hand;
With the other one the pouch was rent.
The nodding head then called me close.
“Common mate, you too have a dose.
Oh! Its nostrum of every disease;
Remedy for all your unattained needs.”
I looked up with suspicious stare.
They shouted, “He is a kid! He just can not dare.”
I saw them putting powder into the sticks;
They puffed the vague smoke from burning lips.
The ephemeral circles lost shape approaching the roof.
Against my soul, my desires plotted hideous coup.
I picked up the stick, throwing the remaining trifle sedition.
And from there on I started on this long walk to perdition.

The cold syringe dived into the hot cadaver.
The tranquility numbed my innocence for ever.
The somatic pleasure but also lasted for brief;
For the lungs huffed up the repartee of grief.
The parasitic ecstasy though was now deeply entrenched;
For the elixir of life became synonymous to this nefarious stench.
Ah! The malediction masticated my holy creed.
My pocket shrank, unable to feed my malignant needs.
I wandered with bane in the lanes of trepidation;
Ah! Still I continued my stroll to perdition.
**************

Then a solemn lane burnt with twilight.
I saw the cure that can bring me out of my plight.
The lady was walking with unsteady steps;
Her purse was hidden securely under the drapes.
I searched again my trousers; found a gun and just a penny.
My heart thumped the chest, nudging me for the felony.
I thought it easy to threaten her with the gun.
But against my favor the dice of fate was already spun.
“Hurry on lady!” shivered my voice;
“Either part with money or life, your choice.”
Her shriek panicked the weakened hand.
And the trigger moved to begin the perennial repent.
As she falls down, the twilight turned cerise;
And I realized, for too long Satan had my sanity on lease.
My soul now carries the bruises of my morbid deeds.
Ah! This crawl to perdition; will it ever cease?

DRENCHED

2008-06-29T03:29:00.000-07:00

Numb fingers and wrinkling skin;
Soaking in water for too long it seems.

The drops run over from back of ear;
From the lids they slither akin tear;

The bullets shoot on the limbs;
To endow with sopping up hinds;

I am wet; and the winds pierce sans pain;
Skin wriggles beneath the shroud of rain;

I lower the face and take the shots;
The hidden memory reverts to the knots.

And we were there under that sudden burst;
But our faces are dim; Reminiscence with rust;

Shuddering under the winds we laughed;
I was soaking but had you in my arms.

So much rain but we never got quenched;
And now these drops got me drenched.

The memory again blurs;
Shadows creep up in memory whirls;

But your shimmering voice, it still rings;
To my memory your smile still clings.

But everything else is blurred;
A grey hue to everything colored.

Back here; with thrashing rain I align;
Withered under the pour; I wait for sun to shine.

CLAMOUR

2008-06-28T01:34:00.000-07:00

Nobody listens; they play the music loud;
Everybody holds an issue; everyone in the crowd.
So they shout; aloud.

Nudging the shoulders to find their way out;
Swamp of faces draped with piles of redundant doubts.
And they shout; aloud

The passage blocked; no hermitage of own;
The mob tightens close then why we feel alone?
Confused! I frown.

The clamor; the shout; I know where it hides.
It is buried deep down inside.
And I wait for the last;
When the noise will blast;

Then I will pick my squandered self;
For this clamor overrides the cry for help.

Addicted!!!!!

2008-06-07T04:21:00.001-07:00

"You should again write something", he said to me enjoying his Death by chocolate. This is a regular stuff. We spur each other to perform , in my case just to get inspired back to write something. That’s true, I crave for inspiration. That’s the problem it doesn’t generate spontaneously. I have to search it. But its harsh for I am such a lackadaisical fellow. If given a choice I will just lay down on a sand beach, doing nothing. But the added responsibility of being successful in the WORLD wakes me up, force me up to dress up and do the basic. Who added this responsibility? Its not a external factor, but Something inside me. We are bundles of Personalities, tied together along with heels and fitted as spokes in this cliched "wheel of life". So, one of that spoke lay me down and another spurs to perform the hallowed duty of being successful. These two surely must be fitted at extremities.

But don't have the notion that I am some sort of recluse. In fact I have the same burning desire of success and fame as you all, or may be a quantum more.But just I couldn't’t decide what success is?

Darn! This is the same phase during most of my writings when I completely loose the plot. So, how I started? Yeah! I was on the advise to write.It was very noble of him to say so, even after reading what I write.I have no work so I thought for my past that how and why I started writing the shitty bits. And why I like writing..Every thing has a cause. I am a great believer in causality. But just have not understood it completely.

I realized writing has been like an addiction, after every few days the dose is required even when you know the drug is not performing but hampering you.. But looking back,one thing I found quite interesting. I never wanted to become a writer, not once. May be few months back when I ventured into short stories I thought( mostly due to encouragement of my brother and sister in law) for once to give a try but then few instances after that dragged me back to my burrow. To the point I felt writing as meaningless. It was serving no purpose and my other routes of success(my professional life) was severely affected. And then I realized I never wanted to become a writer, all I want to become was a storyteller, a Raconteur.

I started writing poems in my economics class in eleventh at the age 16, in Hindi. I even remember the month. It was august. When I started I took it as a joke, like the one I wrote in sixth class, some sort of parody of a rap song of bollywood which were quite famous those days. That was childhood but the poem in that economics class gave me a sense that I have things to tell. At that time I discovered classic Hindi poetry of Maithli, Dinkar, Jayshankar Prasad and many more and along with them were bollywood lyrics, old ones…Gulzar, Sahir, Kaifi…and may whose lyricists I don’t know.. I was wooed into poetry.And then I went crazy, writing everywhere and anytime I can, not parodies but proper Hindi poems .On the back of my physics notes on English reader book, everywhere. Some I wrote were good. One of the poems, was quite well received and truly it was fascinating. But then I went through a plateau and Board examinations arrived. The poetry seemed futile for truly then also I never wanted to be a poet. I wanted to tell stories. All the times they were running on my mind. I wanted to live so many lives. And the realization that I had only one life to do that forced me into making these plots and then thought to make them into motion pictures. Writing stories dont occur for i realized some chunks in my armour. But I had some wonderful plots......of what I want to do at different moments at that time........

To be a doctor fighting his own fears and helping his patient to recuperate. A fighter pilot fallen into a desert and finding his way back.A stylish detective untangling the webs around him. An audacious coast guard helping his friends to fight mysterious prehistoric reptiles. A person who stood along his professional values as an assassin as his only friend leaves him to save his Love's father(a curropt politician) being killed by the friend. A cop fighting his past fears of accidentally killing a child and then coming out of the trauma to help a woman save her child from the Mobsters. And the dream project that I thought/dream would set benchmarks, "REVOLUTIONARY" about a person who changed the world, about how he got transformed from being a frightened kid to revolutionary changing the face of the world,understanding what went through his mind during the change….how the values were built for which he fought and lived.

There were many plots, everything I heard, everything I saw , I just converted into something that I fancied. And I rejoiced, truly. And then I decide I want to tell these stories to the world. The only problem was I was pathetic in grammar and my word power was equivalent to Bhutan's military power. There was no scope for me to proceed. But then I thought, direction doesn’t need words. What important is how I see, so I decided I should be a Director.A new prob surfaced after sometime I had seen dreams a lot, now it was time to execute and I don’t know anything how to? The plot was okay but plot is only 1%; actually its nothing. With the rest part I just get stuck, anything I thought felt mediocre. But I have lived so long with those feelings of feeling a direction shot in every scene I saw that I have fallen in love with the idea of being a Director.I started by having a lot of plots to tell and that’s why decided to be a director and ended up with a hankering for being a director with paucity of stories. Everything concieved now is felt naive and mediocre. I wanted to run....without learning how to run.

But I continued writing poetry. They were simple, any nice word that I learnt, I used and anything I felt beautiful I described. And for once I thought I should write what others like.... but its not my way..... sorry I can't. So again I write in my way, as I have always did.......I never participated in any contest...for I thought these poems are only for me.... but this blog thing was good....atleast to make a collection.

That's one of the reason I started this blog.

Secondly, I just wanted to express. I always have loved it...to say what I feel. People have always loved me initially and then discarded me as only a dreamer and it hurt sometimes to be unable to make the people understand what you mean....in reality. That's why this blog.... just a medium to hoot out whatever I churn.

So, I will write because I dont have control. I won't say I enjoy it too much but it gives me a kick. You are right Mister, I should write and I will. You just enjoy your Death by chocolate.

Cheers.

HARBINGER

2008-06-07T03:43:00.000-07:00

It was a herd; they were driven daft.
The traces of the gone were the holy landmarks.

The plastered road was followed;
The sepulcher was considered hallowed.

Blindfolded; they felt only the shoulder in front;
The scurrying journey was only thing they ever learnt.

They shouted loud about the solace;
This journey in life was their Pilgrimage.

It was dark; but they thought it’s the only scene;
Anything conceived colored was a dream in a dream.

But, HE felt an itch and as he touched his eye;
Found a thick cloth tied that had made them blind.

He untied and the vibrant colors rain;
Every step was genesis of thousand lanes.

But for ages, THEY had followed the same route;
“For Solace; It is our pilgrimage”, they hoot.

He was elated to find the TRUTH;
Tried to make them believe in any way he could

The holy queue was now dismantled;
By this Blasphemy the clan was rattled.

He was brandished as a pariah atheist.
Thrown away from the queue, his holy journey ceased.

He looked around and chose his own path;
He made roads; faltered but then learnt new arts.

At last he made his mausoleum;
And then rested in his divine realm;

And then as time passed;
THEY found HIS path.

It was plastered and new.
And from the cult originated another queue;

HIS vault became THEIR sacred aim;
For solace; their pilgrimage; now they claim.

Circles...

2008-05-31T02:25:00.000-07:00

Running on the trace of rings;
I end up from where I begin.
The winds tousle the hair;
As you lose a sight that’s clear.
No sense of direction;
Circles; give you chance for correction.
All points are so same;
This won’t stop; a choking train.
I revolve;
To absolve;
In Every chance again;
I absorb;
And a resolve
To let it flow; without refrain.
Once a lost chance;
But no disdain;
A beating heart;
Just can’t be sprained.
Its circle;
I revolve and the world unfurls;
Its circle;
I revolve and the logic is churned.

So, I am here again;
Arriving back to where I began.
But for there is attraction;
I run to reach there;
Even when all the steps integrate;
The distance is same from everywhere.
The centre; it can’t be reached.
The boundary, it can’t be breached.
And it’s a circle;
The centre can’t be reached;
It’s a fate;
To circulate this crate;
But don’t fret;
When the trend amend;
You aren’t cognizant
That you head for the start
The subtle variations;
Oh! These circles are smart.

I am trapped;
In these laps;
But those who run in straight lines;
Are also just wandering with radius infinite;
They too are prisoners of their own device.
But yeah! This flow I rejoice
For its circle and I won’t come out of spin
That its circle; I will end up from where I begin.

Flowing in the Sinous Trendzzz

2008-05-24T05:55:00.000-07:00

For past month I am stuck with this term....... "Flowing in the sinuous trends".
It happens to me... sticking with a term....deciphering it..sucking it out....... with out much juice....... and find myself panting heavily standing at the same place from where I had started..... A Circular tread.........
Truly circles fascinate me....You can run thousand of miles but still be at the same place. But isnt this true with every enclosed figure.......yeah for sure..... but circle deceives in direction.......you never know...never realize when you are heading back to the same spot, again and again........and again.

Well coming again to Sinuous Trends....... I always have a feeling of wierd similarity with Nehru's Emotion......." Alien in foriegn and having a feeling of exile in one's own country". Never able to settle where ever I go, never able to understand rather......... Never could assimilate with the surroundings...... never could flow with the stream ...closing eyes, enjoying the ride. That's why flowing in these sinuous streams. The truth is its hard to assimilate in this country, as a whole. Its vast. And the question that bothers me is whats the factor that binds it? What binds this great country of ours? There is a spirit, a common spirit which I can feel but cant point my finger to. May be the reason is I havent moved much. For the first 22 yrs of my life i was up in north...not knowing much about the other parts. But then I moved; saw karnataka, orissa and Maharastra. and they are different. The landscapes are different, the languages are different and the lifestyle, the people are different. I respect and love this diversity. So many different curries. But hey man! there should be some common points for this country. A rice or a chappati to eat it all. I believe that there is, but.....I dont know what are they........ thats why flowing in these sinuous trends.

There is lot to discover...in my vicinity. Too much of work and too less time. I will write soon of the discoveries....and where I reach flowing in these SINUOUS TRENDS.
Just hoping these circles turn into a helical structure. If not in the other two dimension then atleast I should rise in "Heights".

And Yes! I Saw JAb we Met again yesterday.Nice movie. Nothing special about it, but nice. The early Aditya.....umm that guy reminds me of someone close.

Cheers....

How I Grow !!

2008-05-14T04:20:00.000-07:00

Somebody asked” How you grow?”
What to answer? I don’t know.

How I grow up?
How I live my life everyday?
I sit for a while;
And then walk up my way.

The other day I saw a boy on the street;
His body was naked; so were his feet.
His eyes were blank; holding more darkness than the night sky.
Begging for a life; a life where everyday he don’t have to die.

I felt no pain;
No feeling of shame.

At night, I saw in a dark lane,
There were cries for help, somebody was being slain.
I felt no anger neither an urge to retort.
Oh! What can I do? In my whole life I have never fought.

Then I went to bed and have a sound sleep.
I made no commitments, no promises that I have to keep.

In this way I grow; with my body and with my brains.
Unaffected by the plight of poor and cries of pain.

That is the way I grow;
I don’t steal, I don’t borrow.
But neither do I give;
And no! I don’t live.

I feel no pain, no sorrow;
Look through my eyes; deep inside I am hollow.

The reality that has always haunted my psyche. Growing up with brains and body but how much we grow to help and to help whom? Who deserve the help? what's the criterion?

This piece, I wrote at around 3a.m. A guy in a movie said "Look inside my eyes , I am hollow"... that rang through my intellect. isnt that what I am growing into....someone too hollow to fill any space.

Dreams

2008-05-14T03:31:00.002-07:00

DREAMS

Ethereal;
Too empyrean to be real;
But I deem; for it’s my dream.
I flow in sinuous trends,
In the hidden shades sun gleam,
And I rule; it’s my realm.
Muffle screams;
Let’s cheer; it’s my dream.

*******************

A cream colored shore;
And froth by side.
Senile sun; effete.
Efface, by night.
Resplendent road painted cerise;
And a rollercoaster ride.
The stars rain
With sun and moon as alibi;
Over the infinite desert
Lay trace of incessant times.

****************
The urchins dance
With ardent drills;
Sleight dance
In rainbow spring;
Vapid milieu ring
With ebullient chimes,
Éclat faces glitter,
And wallow in hallowed hymns.

***************

A gossamer bird,
With splendor wings;
Scorched in the flames;
The old skin was fling.
The phoenix rise again,
Higher, in adverse gale;
Now the hue is brighter.
Resplendence of daze;
For the insipidity parched
Over the brutality of blaze;

*****************

These images;
They haunt my fears.
These dreams tell;
A smile can dwell
along with tears.
I am glad;
For the dreams I have.

So, you don’t peek through my vista;
And wake me up from the perennial siesta
Screech,
“Somnolent creep”,
It’s just a dream; just a dream.