Like a foot that lingers in wet grass,
a hair strand a finger in concert with,
wary though of the uneasiness,
a momentary fetish takes over,
waiting for the stupor to fade.
A dark night’s rain I walk in,
unruly twitches of leaves,
the falling rain drops to tease;
the chilly breeze and scents linger,
fidgeting with the overflow of emotions.
A compulsion to hug someone,
some wishes that wish to be whispered,
I wallow in myself, in disconcert.
A frenzy hoping for harmony,
a frenzy in an embosom!
I accept!
I didn’t like anyone talk about it, especially my mother or wife, but it had somehow become a part of my life by then. To sit in a prayer or to accept whatever bad happened to me as a punishment for something I might have done wrong sometime or to sleep in a proper position or respect some rituals. It was too deep around…it had to seep in.
But what can you do, it was a great boon to be born as a Brahmin in India and to live a life of one; you had to do what every other man did.
(Sheep).
I wanted to be radical and modern because I saw my friends turn atheists and they called it modern and hip. I wanted to be hip too. I did not you know, I did not…though I had the chance.
They told me that though some rites needn’t have any meaning or logic, since some of them did, we had to accept everything. I said ok…not feeling compelled to argue. I felt it was fair enough.
I thought I liked the prashad and the hymns…also the calm and soothing atmosphere of the temples. I accompanied my family on the trips to the temples. I used to even put on a tilak.
I did question about the rites when I got very angry, then things used to go bad, bringing me back to accepting it as a punishment for my blasphemy. It was blasphemy, wasn’t it?
I had to trust the lord in my hardships; I prayed to him and promised to break coconuts at his feet if my wishes were to be fulfilled or if I wanted something badly. (I am sorry that I used to forget his benevolence after it though). I used to pray saying “only this time lord, from next time, I will work on my own and make you proud…since they say God helps the one who helps himself.”
He listened.
I also let my wife teach my children about the rites, they weren’t allowed to ridicule them! How dare they!
You are listening, aren’t you?
You know, I even built my walls according to vaasthu. I hated the look on the pandit’s face when he accepted his ransom for his service. I didn’t hate a man of God you see, it was just his thoughts.
Yes, I used to smoke and drink, and sometimes have hash too…but you see, they were all the part of this God’s world isn’t it? And we have access to all of the parts. It was allowed.
Yes, I spat on my face in the mirror when I failed, I shouted and spited the lord, but as his children, we can express our feelings can’t we?
The logs are placed, with dung cakes. Somebody circles around them. Some hymns, some sob.
I..I…err...I am a good man; I made some mistakes, but who doesn’t? Eh? I am a man of God; I just proved it to you…didn’t I…
I can’t be free if you don’t nod…please oh please!
I agree they made me so scared now, but I am scared and that is not a good thing! I am suddenly trusting their gobbledygook…but I do trust it don’t I? Don’t abandon me…please!
See, it is so much a part of my system now that I can only think about that now!
Oh! I told you the truth, I hate it, but I accepted it…that takes a lot of will power! Please… please!
Fire is lit. Some wail there…someone wails.
He tried hard to make up.
The mizzle feels so laden of gloom,
a faint scented odour makes an overture.
The waves in vain loom, crumble so in practice.
The curlicue in style, an ephemeral beauty repeats aeons.
Hue in violets, early dawn sheens the froth.
The restive rustles on the shore, the trees
warn me of the dormant hiss of the waves;
yet the stretched arms of the sea tempts an embrace.
The husky whispers that cadence and fall,
sibilance’s calm.
All emotions that refuge in its bosom,
sowed deep in the sands.
Maybe, my love doesn’t reach the shores...
stewing in despair, it chants your name.
I allege the morning sun beautiful,
the shades of the verdure basking in sun, I swim in;
a walk in the cascade of the autumn leaves.
The rote of the worlds yet make me jaded,
the way I eye them changed.
So lost in you, I see nothing.
A man in love, is a poet,
he waits in limbo,
for eternity,
for love.
Hope i had, heartened by love...
surprising so little of it in reserve;
my poems lose vigor, doubt their potency.
Emotions i called them, shallow they seem to you.
I write to escape the fear of your unconcern.
Fate snatches hope like a wind, leaving me in awe.
A word never to convince a heart, to justify what’s love.
A reason something demands,
I haven't any to convince.
A purpose so bleak to wish, to expect your love.
The destiny I chose, a road to perdition.
A heavy heart lightened by tears,
pity.
Belief sprouts that i suffer, faraway.
Juxtaposing mirth and suffering, so alike.
Nothing worth perception,
so filled by you.
A reason for a feeling;
outcome of it, you daren't ask my love!
Not for a purpose, not for a reason we love,
a silent wish that the lips audaciously whisper,
a wish to be loved.
Every minute repeats itself,
every minute I sink deeper.
Craving for your embrace.
The gusts of the wind push me further;
a burden to get rid of.
The gulls sneer; undesired me.
The retreat so heavy; oh the pain the word proffers!
Every move enervates,
yet i gulp my fate,
so in vain, my heart sang.
How I love you, I reveal in my writ;
the thoughts of loneliness simmer.
Perfection to reveal emotions,
none has attained.
Oh how desolate a revelation seems!
The wishes, the desire to expect,
culminate at this point.
Sigh! The seas' madness to express,
reciting for aeons, none to pay heed.
Faith in love, so lost.
With squeals as of a baby eager,
I startle myself when I labour to sleep.
For every major heart throb, a squeal to express delight.
A dream I wished for, hopes to calm.
The stirred state I wake to,
amazes the overwhelming ardour.
I grope for something tangible to dip into,
beguiled by these luring emotions.
A delirium to soak up in this bliss,
a wish for a moment to bemuse this frenzy,
to neglect these groping senses,
to let myself feel the immortal gasp of emotion so vivid.
The restlessness never to be satiated,
an imprudent nirvana I created,
where I cannot enact my happiness;
where exists, an unfading desire for love.
17 aug, 2010
You can hear an imagination, feel a panorama shift…
The beauty of subtleties creating the grandeur,
Wafting temperaments skimming in delight
A smile that springs in pleasure negotiates the spectator to satisfaction.
The stage removed, emotions settling…
The fledgling sentiments take place in aspiration.
The performers eager for another round of hearts in rapture…
Wishing things were as in fairytales,
lost and reminiscing, the audience left to linger in their lives.
The untold and the splendorous stories saunter to tease,
the hearts that paid witness to this illustration of passion…
The intimacy of the emotions gives birth to ones that surprise in mystery.
The spectacle of ardor and coherence taking form.
Ah! The vignettes they create …
Tears in the eyes, rustles of trees and the pounding heart…
If only every performance should embrace the fervor,
Wouldn’t I be tireless in the recital of wishing you, till it be called so;
that they be etched and rise up that passion in every breath released.
26 april, 2010
Muteness and cuteness:
Whoever brought into existence the concept of ‘cute’ or ‘kyooooot’ things didn’t realize he had just invented the biggest implosion artillery in the world. The way these girls who try to be cute have created a cult of their own, which has the following commandments to be practiced:
Eat like a bunny: the food eaten must be of bright colors and drinks should be health conscious ones.
They don’t eat to satisfy their hunger, but rather mince at every bit and drink in sips in public. Mouth shouldn’t be opened wide in any circumstances, in either talking or eating.
In case they eat with the spoons, spoon should contain only a ¼ fill. They chew more than required like a cow that tries to look intelligent while ruminating. They follow the rule of ‘thoda khao, thoda pheko’ to show that they eat less, which we suppose to be the secret of the figure, which is the most important investment in life they make to attract the idiots.
Pouting: Well, sb said, if you don’t understand what the person oppo is saying to you, smile to show your agreement. These cuties take that to another level, where pouting seems to remind them of a rose (the assumptions that the empty head makes) and is followed by a smile that makes the desperate drool. This is the most commonly used trait which never seemed to fail over the years, and these cuties get pro at it every time.
Pouting is used best when the girl shows resentment over sthg u’ve done, and the expressions dons the look of a pug that had just found you not rubbing on its back.
Acting dumb: This is the easiest of the commandments, where they are of their true selves. The lady makes you thus talk more to her saying she hasn’t understood what u said previously and thus keeps your attention to herself. Once, she’s got the attention, she’d smile and pout at the end of every sentence you say, even if that never made sense or you were just playing mute by moving your lips. She’d never take her eyes off you to make you feel uncomfortable till the dumbass at the back of your head says ‘she’s attracted to you, what if we could make out!’ She’s been successful at the process when she switches you on.
They wear this blank expression at every thing you say, for we know, smart ppl respond…and their sole intention here is to resemble a teddy bear, and thus make themselves presentable in a huggable, cuter manner. Whoever made the first teddy…$%*%&%($@ !!!
Talking or acting kiddo: This itch-in-the-undie kind of an act involves their talking like a 4 yr old, swallowing syllables and stressing statements. Some common phrases are: ‘choo chweet, ohhh luuuvvvlee, ohh that’s nicee. The trick is to never offend you, thus all they make are positive statements.
Using ‘ma for my’, momma for mummy and the ever used ‘thinkin, doin, sleepin etc, where they found the ‘g’ at the end too middle class.
Bloody @$%#*$.
The worst may be the expressions of vociferation. They go like ‘oh’ and keep their mouths open for a whole century to even let the flies over their mouths get confused if that thing open was a mouth or a sewer hole. The same goes with ‘ah’, ‘oo’, ‘aahaa’ etc. The most irritating part that creates the biggest implosion in your stomach and gives rumbles in it, enough to make you get the feeling that ‘maybe Nagasaki was a woman, and they did the rite thing nuking the b*%$%’ is the whining part. They whine like those dogs that have both piles and loose motions at the same time. The sound pierces you, makes your belly button vibrate and tickle from the inside.
Blinking: This asinine act came into existence after the animation industry started; the way the eyebrow’s of snow-white fluttered made these ‘snow-job donkey eyes’ imitate that. The bland smile and the fluttering ‘beauty parlor’ eyelids’ fluttering makes it seem like a mule flirting with you.
Movements: These beaut’s move like they belong to a different space time universe where everything is in a slow motion giving enough time to take care of all the things that weigh how they look, like dressing their hair or sitting carefully as if there was a mine underneath or talking as we were alien to the language they speak. The most irritating is the wrist movements they make, trying to imitate grace of the dancers…and the walk called the ‘cat walk’ as if a drunkard was tested to walk on a straight line. They seem to have no rush at all and were relaxed and pro at everything…no rush even when they’ve loose motions. They make it a point to clean the spot over which they sit, like they were born laminated and a speck of dust may ruin their appearance of a fairy.
The rest of the cuteness is derived from owing pink teddies or attaching soft toys or huge baubles to their key chains and bags or examining every leaf or flower like they were suddenly smitten by the complexities of the nature.
So, I guess…girls make a datum of cuteness by the teddies they own or watching animated movies where they make the heroine is made beautiful to sell. The dumb muteness, the blinking and the sniggering and excessive touching you and bending add the icing. The whole point I guess is to make a statement that ‘Even I exist, so you better look at me’.
This is not the case with a select number of dim wits, but every girl does this, knowingly or unknowingly. They would never try to lose a chance to impress you. So, the next time you are sitting with a girl, try to point out these harebrained acts and laugh your ass off.
God have mercy on these fragile china glass beauts’s that were given the brains of the size of an almond, only because they could never handle more load in the skull.
Hope soap
There may be only one question in the world that hits you like a bullet, piques you to the unimaginable core and brings in a wave of self consciousness and inferiority complex.
It is “have you taken your bath today?”
The answer as we all know, for we have all undergone this twinge of remorse, is an all time “yes”, no matter even if you were stinking like the fart of a sloth and were the bag of disgust.
It is gloriously remarkable how a human being still attempts to make up and convince the meddlesome sniffing human dogs.
I find it hard to accept the fact that the guys (mostly) still stretch out on the faces of others standing by knowing that they are stinking. The sight of it even makes me pass out in a second. Living in
But some times, the answer can swerve to an honest “yes, I haven’t had a bath” in cases with girls. I wonder if they take pride in the self assumed fact that they were fairies of some kind, and being fair in skin like a huge albino spot covering the whole body assume that they still look beautiful or atleast presentable in the gravest situation of not having had a bath for 2-3 days. The point they obviously want to emphasize is that even though they haven’t had a bath, their face looks gleaming as ever and that no stink to kill mice is emanated. Well ladies, its become certified now that we cant dare to sniff anywhere around you. Well, taking a bath might be a long shot in some cases, the non benevolent manage to exist in this shit hole without even washing their faces in the morning when they come to the classes. Whoever directed the movie ‘scent of a woman’ may have to re-think what he/she did.
The guys are not behind, well, they do make it a point to atleast wash their faces when they go out of their dwellings, but the patched faces (in dry climate) and wet stiff hair at ends near the face make it very obvious that they haven’t faced the most difficult part of the day of taking a bath. But atleast, since guys are always after girls and they wouldn’t lose a chance to hit on them, however big a stud he may be, he would be kind enough to use extra deo or cheap perfumes to make it up.
However, it would be grossly irritating to go to work with sticky armpits being lubricated partially with talcum powder or sweat and half wet hair. The legacy of using worn underwear’s by the macho guys just adds more to the scratching part. I know of guys who were better in such cases, and never wore underwear when they dint find it clean and could still manage to go on for weeks in such ‘tickling and touchy’ situations.
Well people, I know that you have done everything that I wrote here, so have I, now lets be honest with each other and be generous enough to care for the fellow mortals and atleast not irk them with our stink.
Things to be done:
Satin pearls
A drop of color that falls by chance,
blooming in water, the vigor and grace.
A trice of beauty reaches an impression;
elegance of the quillwort, silent waltz.
Silver eyes that pierce;
skin, chaste and pale as white fire…
hair, disheveled in frolic,
her heart, ever stayed in trance.
The white satin fairy that dances!
there, a descending angel!
Pellucid gossamer that drapes,
escatsy and charisma that font,
hair, never in reign, breezy…
shadows of the sprites set buoyant.
The shy smile,
like spring holding back…
sweet, tangible flow of white.
Who she was I wonder,
wonder what spell she cast;
The pristine white satin…
a gauze of snow.
Her frailty, posture…
enigma that lingers.
Evanescence of the nymph…
seizes the whirling heart!
-4/2/08
The blessing called a sister
The brewing silence,
The wearing darkness that seemed fate;
Secluded I was in a corner helpless,
hysteric fits I gulped down.
Like a shivering leaf in snow…
never did I endeavor to open my eyes,
desolation that broke my soul…
A startling hug that made me tremble,
Warmth I never knew of…
an embrace that helped me breathe,
the solace of love.
My broken soul you restored,
patiently and caringly…
Emotions I breathe in,
The soul of mine, the heavens sent…
the vignette of which your love gave form.
The delicateness of the nature,
how the petals uncovered!
On a fabric of life, though sewn apart,
a bond unknown built,
the common thread that’s never to break,
nothing of the worlds to part us.
The purity in your love,
exalted to the heavens my soul…
Magical devotion you offer.
The embrace that equals,
that of a mother’s bosom…
Inspiring my wearied spirit,
You show me the beauty in life.
You cup your hands for my tears,
You hear my prayers whispered.
You hold me through the path,
witnessing my subtle expressions.
How u read me, transparent my soul for you.
Teaching me how to live,
you help me in the pursuit of a smile…
sacrificing yours.
The worlds when left me,
You stand at the end of the tunnel,
a smile to warm my heart,
a hug to restore life.
Your arms ever stretched…
taking my despair as yours.
I pray the lord,
There mayn’t be a moment where,
I could be helpless not to deliver your wish,
or to not offer my life for yours.
Never can I part from you dear,
Never can I see a tear…
Naïve I may be,
I cannot express how I love you.
Never can I dare to open to you…
I fear a tear of love…
sight of which would shatter me.
Hope I shall to learn the art of love,
Wish I make, to live for you.
17/1/08
