Sunday 30 December 2012

മരണം

എനിക്ക് ഒരു മരണം കാണണം.

ശവശരീരങ്ങള്‍ ഏറെ കണ്ടിട്ടുണ്ട്. പക്ഷേ ഒരാള്‍ മരിക്കുന്നത് ഇത് വരെ നേരിട്ട് കാണാന്‍ സാധിച്ചിട്ടില്ല. ഇനിയും ഇങ്ങനെ പോയാല്‍ ശെരിയാവില്ല. അതുകൊണ്ട് തീരുമാനിച്ചു. ഒരു മരണം കണ്ടിട്ട് തന്നെ കാര്യം.

പക്ഷെ അങ്ങനത്തെ ഒരു തീരുമാനത്തില്‍ കുറെ ആശയക്കുഴപ്പങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് വകയുണ്ട്. ഇതൊരു തീരുമാനത്തിലും ഉള്ള ചോദ്യങ്ങള്‍ തന്നെ. എങ്ങനെ, എപ്പോള്‍, എവിടെ വച്ച്? മരണത്തിന്‍റെ കാര്യമായതുകൊണ്ട് വേറെയും ചില സംശയങ്ങള്‍... ഏത് തരം മരണം? ആത്മഹത്യ? കൊലപാതകം? സ്വാഭാവിക മരണം? അതോ വീരമൃത്യു എന്ന് അറിയപ്പെടുന്ന ഹരാകിരിയോ?

കൂട്ടിക്കിഴിച്ചു നോക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ഹരാകിരിയാണ് ഉള്ളതില്‍ ഭേദം. പക്ഷെ ഒരു ഹരാകിരി അതിന്‍റെ പൂര്‍ണമായ രൂപത്തിലും ഭാവത്തിലും ആസ്വദിക്കാന്‍ ജപ്പാനിലേക്ക് വണ്ടി കേറണം. അതിനുള്ള സമയമോ കഴിവോ തല്‍കാലം എനിക്കില്ല. അതുകൊണ്ട് ഹരാകിരി വേണ്ടെന്നു തീരുമാനിച്ചു.

സ്വാഭാവിക മരണം കാണാന്‍ പ്രയാസമാണ്. കാത്തിരിക്കണം. മാത്രമല്ല സംഗതി വേഗം കഴിയും. അനുഭവിക്കാന്‍ ഉള്ളതൊക്കെ അനുഭവിച്ചു തീര്‍ത്ത് ജീവിതം ഒരൊറ്റ നിമിഷത്തിലേക്ക്‌ ചുരുങ്ങി ഇല്ലാതാവുന്ന അവസ്ഥ. അതില്‍ പുറമേക്ക് കാണാന്‍ അധികമൊന്നും ഉണ്ടാവില്ല.കണ്ടുനില്‍ക്കുന്നവര്‍ക്ക് ഒരു സ്വിച്ച് ഓഫ്‌ ചെയ്ത പ്രതീതി. അത്ര മാത്രം.

പിന്നെ ഉള്ളത് കൊലപാതകം. ശെരിയായ മരണം. കാണാനും എളുപ്പം. പക്ഷെ ശെരിക്കും ആസ്വദിക്കണമെങ്കില്‍ പെട്ടെന്ന് കൊല്ലരുത്. തോക്ക് കൊണ്ട് വെടി വെക്കരുത്. വേഗം തീരും. ഒരു കത്തി കൊണ്ട് കഴുത്തറുത്ത് കൊല്ലണം. അവസാന നിമിഷത്തിലെ വെപ്രാളവും, വികാരങ്ങളും ആസ്വദിക്കാം. ചൂട് ചോര വാര്‍ന്നു പോകുന്നത് നോക്കി നില്‍ക്കാം. അവസാനത്തെ തുള്ളി വരെ. ശ്വാസം പതുക്കെ നിലക്കുന്നത് കേള്‍ക്കാം. ഒടുക്കം കണ്ണില്‍ നിന്ന് ജീവന്‍റെ വെളിച്ചം മറഞ്ഞു പോകുന്നതും നോക്കി കാണാം. ആത്മാവ് -- അങ്ങനെയോന്നുണ്ടെങ്കില്‍ -- ശരീരം വിട്ടൊഴിയുന്നത് അനുഭവിച്ചറിയാം. പൂര്‍ണമായ മരണം.

പക്ഷെ അപ്പോഴും മരണത്തിന്‍റെ ഒരു വകഭേദം കാണാന്‍ ബാക്കിയാവും. ആത്മഹത്യ. സ്വയം ഇല്ലാതാവല്‍. ഇല്ലാതാക്കല്‍. അതിന്‍റെ സുഖം ഒന്ന് വേറെ തന്നെ ആവും. തീര്‍ച്ച.

ഏറെ നേരത്തെ ആലോചനക്കൊടുവില്‍ ഇവ രണ്ടും കാണാന്‍ ഞാന്‍ ഒരു വഴി കണ്ടെത്തി. വളരെ പ്രായോഗികമായ ഒരു വഴി.

ഒരു കണ്ണാടിക്കു മുന്‍പില്‍ നിന്ന്, സ്വന്തം കണ്ണില്‍ നോക്കി, പതുക്കെ കഴുത്തില്‍ ഒരു കത്തി കൊണ്ട് ആഴത്തില്‍ വരയുക.

സ്വസ്ഥം. ശാന്തം.

Sunday 16 December 2012

കുത്തിക്കുറിപ്പ്

 
ഇനി എഴുതുന്നില്ല എന്നു ഞാന്‍ തീരുമാനിച്ചു.
എഴുതുന്നത്  ദളിത്‌-വിരുധമായാലോ?
ഒരു വെറും സവര്‍ണ്ണന്റെ കോപ്രായങ്ങളായി ഞാന്‍ എഴുതിയത് വ്യാഖ്യാനിക്കപ്പെട്ടാലോ ?
ഞാന്‍ ഒരു കമ്മ്യൂണിസ്റ്റ്‌ ആണെന്ന്  വായിക്കുന്നവര്‍ ചിന്തിച്ചാലോ ?
ഞാന്‍ എഴുതിയതിന്റെ ശരിയായ അര്‍ഥം -- ഞാന്‍ ഉദ്ദേശിക്കാന്‍ ഉദ്ദേശിച്ച, അവര്‍ കണ്ടെത്തിയ ശരിയായ അര്‍ഥം -- ഇതാണെന്നു പറഞ്ഞ് വായനക്കാര്‍ എന്റെ മഷിക്കുപ്പി പൊട്ടിച്ചാല്‍ ?
ഇനി അത്രയൊന്നുമായില്ലെങ്കില്‍ പോലുംബുദ്ധിജീവികളുടെ പോസ്റ്റ്‌മോര്‍ട്ടം ടേബിളില്‍ വച്ച് തലനാരിഴ കീറി പരിശോധിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ എന്റെ രചനകള്‍ വെറും കുട്ടിത്തങ്ങളായിപ്പോയാലോ ?
ഹോ! ഓര്‍ക്കാന്‍ വയ്യ!

കാര്യങ്ങള്‍ വളച്ചുകെട്ടി, ആര്‍ക്കും മനസിലാവാത്ത വിധത്തില്‍ പറഞ്ഞാല്‍ ഒരു ഗുണമുണ്ട് .
വായിക്കുന്നവരാരും "ഇതെന്താ?" എന്നു ചോദിക്കില്ല. നാണക്കേടല്ലേ?
ഒപ്പം, നമുക്ക് "Intellectual" എന്ന ലേബലും പതിച്ചു കിട്ടും.

വേണ്ട. കീറാമുട്ടി കണക്കുള്ള നിഗൂഢമായ വാചകങ്ങള്‍ മെനയാന്‍ എനിക്കറിയില്ല.
ലളിതമായി കാര്യങ്ങള്‍ പറയുവാനാണ്  എനിക്കിഷ്ടം.
പക്ഷെ അങ്ങനെ എഴുതിയാല്‍ ആര് വായിക്കാന്‍ ?
ഇനി വായിച്ചാല്‍ തന്നെ അവര്‍ പറയും : "You are a very shallow person." എനിക്കൊട്ടും ആഴമില്ലെന്ന് . പരപ്പും.

കുറച്ച് വായിക്കാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചു. കാമുവും സാര്‍ത്രും ദസ്തയവസ്കിയും ഗോര്‍ക്കിയുമെല്ലാം. മൊത്തമായി ദഹിച്ചില്ലെങ്കിലും കുറേ വാനരചേഷ്ഠകളെ തിരിച്ചറിയാന്‍ കഴിഞ്ഞു. അത്രയും സമാധാനം.

ഇങ്ങനെയൊക്കെ ആയതിനാല്‍, കണ്ണടച്ചുകൊണ്ട്  കണ്ട് , കാതുപൊത്തിക്കൊണ്ട്  കേട്ട്, വാമൂടിക്കൊണ്ട് പറഞ്ഞ്, കിട്ടുന്നതെല്ലാം വിഴുങ്ങി, കുറേ ശര്‍ദ്ദിച്ച്, കുറേ പാതി ദഹിച്ചു, യാത്ര തുടരാം. പേന തൊടാതെ.

എല്ലാവര്‍ക്കും നല്ലത് വരട്ടെ.

മംഗളം 

Monday 5 November 2012

The Road

The Road goes on. A long way
My sight is blurred by a misty fog
I see the tarmac beneath my soles
But looking onward, I see not a thing

This road I'm walking, where does it lead?
Does it bend, does it fork, is it long or short?
Or does it simply drop over a precipice's edge?
The fog is too thick, sight, too blurred

Is it destined to hit a dead end?
Or will it just lead on, void of purpose?
And walking on, I'll fall, disintegrate?
The fog is too thick, sight, too blurred

Is the road smooth, even and level?
Is it with potholes and cracks ridden?
Will my journey's end ever be reached?
The fog is too thick, sight, too blurred

All I can do is stick to the road
Nearly blind, but walk up ahead
Knowing for sure, the end will be reached
Carry myself on for miles to come

Sunday 14 October 2012

Vodkascendance

Peg No: 1 down
2                    3

Weeeeee!!!

4,5                6?
6, 7, 7, 7...

Time to switch modes
Mode: Preacher

I wanna talk
You must listen, think, but don't care
Don't give a damn but listen, think
Care you mustn't but listen, think you must
Listen, think about everything but about none do care

(Yawn...)
I'm in full conscience

Widen but stick to your views
Change but don't be changed
I'm imperfect, so are you
But more perfect I guess I'm than you
Don't be changed but change
I think you have but I don't think you haven't

I'm in full conscience

I'll be what I be, a damn I won't give
But Change have You to
You have to but Change

I'm in full conscience

Change, listen,think, widen, grow
Widen, Change
Chaden, Winge

    Ch...    Wi...

Peg No:    7     8...

                  Mode Switch: Hilarious
               Laughter Laughter Laughter

Peg No:    9     10 (bottoms-up, nearly raw)

                  Mode Switch: Silencio

                           PEACE....

Friday 5 October 2012

So much for my Solitude

From atop the Publications building,
The campus cloaked in dark velvet,
Pinpricks of cellphone lights pointing down,
EFLUites scampering hither and thither.

Me enjoying the bliss and the wind,
Eyes comfy without jabbing lights,
A bunch of Gazals to soothe my heart,
Sitting, God-like, watching EFL-U from above.

Stars twinkling up in the sky,
Silence slowly embracing me whole,
Into a trance state I almost reach,
Passing sweetly over to oblivion.

Suddenly
Invaders, trespassers, privacy thieves.
Noisy as toads, ravens, cicadas.
Giggle
Screech
Murmur
Pitter-patter
ViBRate
Ring-ring-ring
Jibber-Jabber
Jibber-Jabber
Loud

Shattering the vase of silence with a push.
Well,
So much for my Solitude.

Saturday 22 September 2012

Welcome to EFL-U

It's twelve in the night
I'm still at the lab
Chatting on Facebook with you,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I start dozing off
Gets up from the system
Taken at once by the guy in queue,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I walk out of the lab,
I see a group having tea
I wonder if its twelve or two,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I set off towards the hostel
I see my friends up and about
"Hi", "Hello", "How are you"
Welcome to EFL-U.

I reach the hostel stairs
Greeted by a pair of girls
Ha! as if its something new,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I walk through the corridor
Hearing songs, film dialogues
In almost all rooms but a few,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I check my pockets for the key
I need it even at one in the night
The room'll be locked I assure you,
Welcome to EFL-U.

I reach my wing
The lights are all out
For a moment I wonder,
Am I still at EFL-U? 

Thursday 20 September 2012

Butterfly

The little butterfly suddenly ceased to fly,
It hit the ground and stayed as still as a stone.
But wait! To get back up, it started to try,
Thrashing and writhing, its strength nearly gone.

Painting the grass with the colour of its wings,
Butterfly, in vain, trying to get up and about.
Going round and round as if tied in strings,
Until it lost its fight, all out.

The legs were squirming, feeble, delicate,
Its abdomen curling in and out and in again.
Now, as cruel as ever, its wretched fate,
Brought it near an anthill, with its thrashings vain.

The ants swarmed over the helpless fly,
And began devouring it, whole and alive.
If given a voice it sure would cry,
For it was struggling its final strife.

They tore its wings, legs, plucked off,
And slowly gouged out its eyes.
In a few moments there was nothing left off,
Except a head, twitching, the ants forgot to dice.

Tuesday 4 September 2012

Relations


On many occasions in my daily life, I fall into some unique, weird and at times interesting relationships. Some last, but some don’t. And all of them are rather insignificant. In fact, they are so insignificant that I'm not sure whether or not they can be called relations in the strict sense of term. But whatever be the proper name for these "relations", they are pretty intriguing to look at. And I thought I would try and make a small blog post out of it.

So here they are. Relations:

1. The Watchman Relation
I fell into this relation after reaching EFL-University, and I have a pretty good feeling that this is a relation that will last.
I'm usually one of the first daily visitors to the library reading room and my name would most surely figure in the first twenty names of the day's register. This regularity was the base of my relation with the watchman of the reading room. And the extent of this relation is a simple exchange of a "Good Morning" along with a sweet, pleasant smile.

2. The Reading Room Relation
As obvious from the name, this relation took root in the reading room. It is with one of the reading room regulars (like me).
I honestly don't know the name of the guy or what he does at the university. All that I do know is that we both have a mutual interest for "The Hindu". We figured it out within a week of our first meeting. These days, whoever reaches the reading room first reads "The Hindu" and then reserves it till the other person arrives. And of course, we exchange a smile when we meet outside of the reading room.

3. The Hostel Wing Relation
Many people residing in big hostels might have fallen into this relationship. This one, again, rises out of regularity. The terms and conditions are simple: You meet an unfamiliar person daily at a fixed time at a fixed place in your wing and in due course, they become familiar and you start to smile at them or greet them with a nod. Both on your regular meetings and when you meet by chance. Again, this is a relation that stands a chance of longevity.

4. The Miscellany
These are short-lived but interesting relations and often happens when one is out shopping or taking a casual stroll. And at times, they can be rather funny as well.
Here are some instances.

You are in a mall, a stranger near you takes out their cell, start dialing and coincidentally, you get a call. You exchange a look of wonder with them, smile and walk away.

You are walking  on the pavement. The person coming in the opposite direction is wearing the same dress as you. Your eyes meet, a smile is exchanged, finite.

You are shopping. You want to have the last remaining piece of an item on the shelf, but someone else takes it just as you are reaching for it. You exchange a frown, unpleasant. walk away.

You are at a zebra crossing. You start walking inattentively into the traffic, someone stops you just in time. You blush, manage to mumble a "Thank You" and maybe a smile as well.

You are on your own in an unfamiliar city. You ask someone for directions, they give it to you with a smile(hopefully!), you smile back and thank them, a pleasant relation.

And finally, the best of all such micro-relations. You see a minor accident in front of you, you rush to their aid, and a few good Samaritans do likewise. And instantly, you work as a team. A truly noble relation.


I see such relations all around me and I can go on and on about them. I find it of great interest to observe them and frequently, falling in them.
Trust me, its fun.

Saturday 1 September 2012

Vista at Night

The sky is never dark.
The city never sleeps.
Life thrives and flourishes,
In every nook and cranny.

Bathed in a golden light,
The city, before my eyes.
The horizon is bright, distant,
Unintelligible from the sky.

Houses sprawl, a giant Lego town.
All of them bathed in light.
Shimmering, incandescent,
Staying awake, for an eternity.

And now the moon shows up,
In his weak, tired gleam.
Trying, in vain, to shine over,
The amber, brilliant glow.

Far, near the horizon, the cars.
They move in a jewel-set wave.
Dotting the landscape like a million stars,
For there are none seen, up in the sky.

I see dogs prowling the alleys,
In search of food, or shelter,
Or maybe for a bitch to hump.
The true children of midnight.

I hear the piercing whistle,
Of a train in a distance.
Ferrying commuters across,
From darkness unto light.

Standing up here, listening to-
The secrets, wind with me share,
I feel a humble oneness in me,
There is no longer "I", only "be".

Friday 31 August 2012

On Being Nobody


It seems I am having a prose streak that which is rather personal. For this is the second consecutive prose piece I’m writing and the last good poem I wrote was nearly four months ago.

Anyway, onto the topic. On Being Nobody.

First off, it's not easy. Everybody -- well, almost everybody -- tends to be somebody. Somebody with some uniqueness. With some sort of individuality. It is very difficult to shed the shell of your self. But believe it or not, being nobody comes to me as easily and naturally as breathing.

I am a regular guy. To be frank, I am so regular that I tend to belong to to the lowest possible rungs of mediocrity. I follow a routine that is as monotonous as it can be. And by doing so, I miss out the variety that life has in store for me everyday. True to my self description in this blog, all I do is "I read, I listen, I think and I write." Nothing more, and most certainly, nothing less.

I suck at the art of making friends. In fact, I suck so much so that at times I wonder if I produce a pheromone of some sort which repels people. Just as how I have written in one of my earlier poems, Reflection, people befriend me fast but then, soon, they drift away. Or maybe it's me, I am not entirely sure. In the 18 years I have been alive and thriving, I've made a pathetic three relationships which I can say with some certainty, are friendships. It has been over a month for me here at EFL-U and still I haven't found someone to call a friend.

Which brings me to my next point.

I don't dream. It seems that I don't have the ability. The reason why I decided to join BA(Hons) English is really laughable. English was the one and the only subject that I thought I could study after +2. In deciding so, I never thought of what I would do after the degree. I lack a strong, hard-core passion in one particular area. I'm more of a surface guy. A jack of all trades, but a master of none. A cynic who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. A layer of dust. Flimsy.

This is another reason why I alienate people fast. I don't have any common interest to share. And thus am I left, forever alone.

I don't live. I exist. But sadly, my existence doesn't matter to anyone or anything but me. Remove the entity labelled Vysakh from the paradigm of this universe, and nothing, not a single thing, would alter. I'm like a sheet of glass, held against the Sun.

It often makes me wonder, that who will cry when I die???

Friday 17 August 2012

One day at EFL-U

This is the first time I'm posting something personal in my blog which is not a poem. My usual routine, and moreover, a general day's routine in my new campus, the EFL University.

The day starts at 6:30 (for me at least!) when I wake up automatically due to some weird bio-chemical tuning in my brain. I would love to write that I wake up to the twittering of birds, or even, to the shrill sound of the alarm but sadly, I usually hear snores the first thing in the morning.

By 7:30 (still listening to deep snores) I'll start the day's voyage with my most favourite companion of all, my bag. Although others laugh at me and my bag saying we are Siamese twins, my bag never leaves my side. I love you bag.

With my bag I'll be off to my regular tea-stall outside the campus. The "manager-cum-cook", a man with a rather bushy moustache but a pleasant smile, gives me my usual. Either four hot, steaming and golden pooris or one large, round and crisp masala dosa. Always without chutney and with an extra serving of sabji. And he always has spare change, be it for 100 rupees or 500.

After breakfast and a strong coffee from our Govinda's Cafeteria, it's newspaper time. The reading room, which is open 24X7 is my most preferred haunt after breakfast. Unless of course, I get an urge to check my Facebook updates in which case I'll go to the computer lab which, again, is open 24X7.

By 9.00, its time for classes. I have classes where we don't study, but discuss. We don't learn but we interact. Although it's too early for me to judge my classes, I'm starting to enjoy them nonetheless.

By 1:00, its time for lunch and I'll be off either to Nissi Chapathi Center, or Govinda's Cafeteria where I'll have an affordable (read -- pretty cheap) lunch. But then again, I shouldn't criticize two of my most accessible sources of food.

That's the end of academics, unless we have our Espanol  classes. We have them thrice a week and as of now, they are fun. !Hola!, ?Como estas?, Muey bien, Gracias.

With that begins another day's non-academic hours. In simpler words, Free Time. It seemed a bit too much in the beginning but trust me, now its barely enough.

One can visit the library which spans three floors and is open till 8:30 in the evening. Finding a book in there can be a daunting task in itself even with a full fledged computer catalogue. You will literally get lost among the numerous book shelves in each floor.

If you're not the booky type, you can always take a stroll through the campus, sipping a hot coffee from our Sagar Stores. The walk, amazingly, never gets boring, especially if you have a friend by your side.

One can also play cricket & football in the Ground (read -- small patch of land) or badminton in either one of the two courts.

If you're still not entertained enough, just go out. Explore. Hyderabad is your's to discover. It will never fail to amaze you each time you travel.c Although, it is advisable to have some Hindi in your arsenal if you want to get along without hassles.

Once the night falls, the campus comes alive. Bathed in the golden glow of sodium lamps, it is a beautiful sight to behold.

You can relax in one of the parks, go outside or take yet another walk through the campus. From Sagars' down towards the teacher's quarters, circling the hostels and on towards the Admin block, the New Academic Building and back to Sagars' passing in front of the library. You shouldn't be scared if you hear howls and yells from the New Acad Building. They are no banshees or ghouls. Just the Theater Club carrying out their regular practice sessions.

If you continue your walk well into midnight after having dinner, you may even have a cup of tea from the Midnight "T" stall along with bread-omelette.

The campus, it seems, never completely sleeps. If you were to go out at 3 in the morning, you will for sure find a lot of like minded folks.

The best part of being at EFL-U is that you will never be alone. Be it your friends or books or even one of the many dogs found in the campus, you are sure to have company. Always.

This is a little universe within the four campus walls.

Monday 13 August 2012

Breaking Free

For many-a-days, idle remained,
My pen and my book of poems.
For I was at a strange new place,
Far away from my home.

I was thrilled, also scared,
Eager, but also worried.
For never, was I spared,
Of the surprises that I met here.

I was free for the first time ever,
But so was I alone, anxious and cold.
Days seemed to go on forever and ever.
And I missed my home, my room and more.

A poetic block (!) wrapped around my soul,
Making it shiver in its gripping hold.
To break free of which, I have to be bold,
And find, I did now, an escape of some sort.

My old sheen, I haven't regained,
Which, in time, I'm sure I will.
And once again will I start to write,
Merely looking over a window sill.

Wednesday 13 June 2012

Leaving the nest


All my life I’ve been cooped up inside,
With the sky shining blue and bright, outside.

My dream, always, was to fly out into that sky,
Spread my wings, feel the wind, soar evermore high.

Never was I free, never strong enough.
For I had been warned the sky is too rough.

My nest to me was the absence of my life,
Although I never had to encounter a strife.

My despair, my distress, increased by day,
Frustration all around, turn wherever I may.

All this while, the sky remained close,
Yet to reach out and grab, I didn’t have the force.

But a day came when I at last spread my wings,
Oh! It was the most wonderful of feelings.

I stepped outside, leaving my nest behind,
The fortress of my body and soul and mind.

I felt the wind caressing my wing,
The sky clear and vibrant, was most welcoming.

I looked back once, sparing my nest,
One final glance and wished myself the best.

I made the leap flying out into the sky,
With every leap I climbed high and high.

I was free, liberated, nothing holding me down,
Overjoyed, happy, I had no trace of a frown.

Free at last, free at last,
God almighty I’m free at last.

Free at last, free at last,
God almighty I’m free at last.

Saturday 26 May 2012

Puppets

It's my life.
I've got my ways and will do what I will.
-You proclaim, out loud.

You fail to realise it though,
That no matter how much you grow,
You are and will always be,
A puppet, hanging from a bunch of strings.

You walk, you run but not on free will.
Someone's up there pulling your strings.
Someone's up there curbing your thrill.

They decide your life's flow,
Where it should go, how fast how slow.

You submit to them, knowing that often,
The choices you choose will not be chosen.

Thus you move on and on in life,
With strings pulling and knotting your hands.

Tuesday 22 May 2012

Queue

Standing
In
A
Long
Queue,
Bored
Out
Of
My
Skin,
Unsure,
Slowly
Inching
Forward,
Watching
With
Jealousy,
Others
Return
With
Rewards
Offered
Upfront,
But
Still
There's
Hope.

Sunday 13 May 2012

Atop a hill

With each step I was getting closer to heaven,
Ascending the majestic hill to its very peak.

As I reached the hilltop, my mouth went agape,
For such was the beauty that graced my eyes.

The panorama was spread all around, like an immense oil painting.

Of all the artists abound, nature is the best,
I realised without the slightest trace of a doubt.

The green was so profuse, immense, rich,
The greenest of nature I've so far seen.

Dotting the green were intermittent houses,
Instead of blemishing, the beauty they enriched.

Crickets could be heard all around,
Creating a symphony, out of cacophonies.

As the Sun's rays vanished came the biting wind,
Raising goosebumps all along my skin.

Far away from the deep valleys and gorges,
Rose a captivating mist, like clouds on Earth.

It rose, blanketing the hills, turning them,
To the floating mountains of the great Pandora.

I was humbled, dwarfed, impressed, in that one moment,
For I was standing on the gateway to heaven

Monday 7 May 2012

End of a Journey

Sitting by the window, with wind messing my hair,
I breath in the freshness of a wonderful twilight.

Trees swiftly sprint past me,
Blurring my sight with soothing green.
The gentle jostle of the cabin rocks me,
Like the beats and trills of an old melody.

Often the green changes its hue,
To the pitch black roughness of a rocky tunnel.
And so does the heart beat of my cabin,
Changing at once into a deafening roar.

The fields rushing by remain smothered in dew,
While out over the horizon spreads, a crimson hue.

As the first of rays cross my cabin's threshold,
A warmth spreads dispelling the cold.

Slowly my companions begin to stir,
Strangers, though comrades, for one single night.

Soon the Sun rose high, its yet another day,
Time to alight from my home-for-one-day.

Standing at the station, I see it rushing away,
Carting its tenants-for-one-single-day.

Wednesday 25 April 2012

Midnight Rain

Her arrival, heralded by a mighty gale,
Had all its grandeur and inspiring awe.

The gentle breeze, soon gathered speed,
Like an immense engine, wheezing on a rail

The first of droplets soon followed by,
Raising from the earth an enchanting musk.

Invisible in the dark, the soothing shower,
Soon she grew into a heavy downpour.

The spray was amazingly seductive and cold,
Cloaking the earth with an aqueous shroud.

But this shroud refreshes, rejuvenates and nurture,
New life, the yearning sapling's green.

Then came a blinding light so bright,
The midnight seemed to witness a sunrise.

Following which, there was a deafening thunder,
And the earth almost gave a shudder.

All this while she kept her stead,
And a chilling breeze stole into my bed.

Goosebumps erupted upon her touch,
Sending shivers up my spine.

Midnight rain the enchantress, amuses me always,
For each time she arrives with a different face.

Friday 9 March 2012

Transition


Sitting at my desk under a fluorescent lamp
On a friendly advice I deeply ponder.
“Try not to rhyme” He had said.
“Why though?” I cannot help, but wonder.

 Maybe my poems all look the same,
Written in short, stubby couplets.
Or maybe they are rather lame,
Of which – sadly – I can’t be the judge

But then I recall the works of some greats,
Neruda, Shelly, Frost and the like.
“They never rhymed for the sake of a rhyme.”
Somewhere in me that fact did strike.

Rhymes are for children and not for the mature,
Though amateur, I surely am no beginner.
And it’s time to change my poetry’s nature.
But, such a transition is no easy thing.

I have to start from square number one,
Free myself from the shackles of rhyme.
My days of couplets are over and done,
No more matching of cat with mat.

Just like the way how it all began,
I’ll – once again – scribble some nonsense lines,
And will declare – with definite élan,
That these are my thoughts, when streamlined.

Monday 5 March 2012

Race Horses


I compare you to an Arabian steed,
Trying, always, to be in the lead

Your eyes are patched, preventing peripheral sight,
You gallop ahead, challenging the speed of light.

You gallop ahead for that’s all you’ve been taught,
Ever since the day you began your trot.

A bridle has been strapped upon your face,
To curb your movement and your pace

You sense a whip in your rider’s hand,
Egging you on towards the victory stand

Winning this race is your only aim,
It is your life’s ultimate game.

At last you win and your heart rejoices,
Surrounding you are complimenting voices.

You are glad it’s over, you feel complacent,
You rest, hoping tomorrow will be pleasant.

But next day you are brought into the field, once again,
Before you even recovered from yesterday’s strain

A new bridle, a new rider, and the same old whip,
The reins have you under their sinister grip.

The whip cracks and you gallop ahead once more,
Though this race doesn’t seem worth running for

But you are stripped of a choice and there is only one way,
To race ahead, and to do the same on every single day

A new bridle, a new rider, a new race in which to fight,
A new syllabus, a new teacher, a new exam to write

Wednesday 15 February 2012

My Precious


The Sun was rising on that Monday morning,
As the clock struck six, I woke up yawning.

Things couldn’t have been any more normal,
As I set out for school, dressed in a formal.

As I reached the class, I found it abuzz,
All my friends excited, I thought, “What’s the fuss”.

“There’s a new girl over there”, someone said.
Naturally curious, I turned my head.

My eyes met another beautiful pair,
So mesmerizing, that they forced me to stare.

In the next very instant I saw her face,
And the world disappeared without a trace.

She was the only one visible to me,
And I felt this is where I was meant to be.

For a wonderful moment, I was rendered speechless,
All my fears and tensions seemed baseless.

Gravity was no longer binding me on earth,
It was her, the source of all my mirth.

Then I saw her smile, like a starlight gleam,
It was just too beautiful to be a dream.

With that perfect and beautiful image,
Angles for me were no longer a mirage.

I looked around and found everything glowing,
All sounds were pleasant as if a brook was flowing

Suddenly the world was clear and bright,
As if touched by Sun’s purest light.

And there she sat smiling and glad
It was the best of days I ever had.

Sunday 12 February 2012

Friendship 2012


Friendship these days is not among mates,
But among “Likes” and “Status Updates”.

Your friendship needs to be so expressed,
That anyone who sees it is perplexed.

Show off your slams and autographs,
Upload your friendship as photographs.

Lets see who gets the most comments,
And let that be your friendship’s best of moments.

Forget about talking, it doesn’t make any sense.
Facebook is friendship’s real essence.

When you feel happy, don’t simply smile,
Add lots of “:)” for that’s the new style.

If you cry when you’re sad, you are being a fool,
Just post a “:(“ ‘coz that’s uber-cool.

Laughing, right now is a really old fashion,
“LOL!” seems to have much more passion.

If you miss a friend, talking isn’t the real way to show
Post it on their wall, let the whole world know.

Spill out as much of cheese as you can,
And you’ll be adopted into F.B’s clan.

Don’t talk to your neighbors, are you insane?
Go make some friends in Paris or Spain.

Why waste time going to a friend’s house,
When they are available at the click of a mouse?

Why call your friends when SMS is easy?
It’s fab, it’s cool and so is it sleazy.

This, my “friends”, is friendship’s new style.
Oops, gotta go check my F.B profile.

Friday 3 February 2012

Outside The Window

Many a times I get stuck in my room,
Glued to my textbooks like lint on a broom.

Soon I get bored and cooks up a dream,
That's the best I can do to stifle a scream.

But at times my window becomes my friend,
And I look outside with the eyes that he lend.

The scene outside remains rather same,
But never do I find it one bit lame.

I look for and find out changes, subtle,
Like a sparrow's chirp or a scorpion's scuttle.

I see a couple so madly in love,
They chase each other from bough to bough.

Then there is a mother, her child is her life,
She feeds him and cares him, whatever be the strife.

There are the workers, diligent, never derelict
And though very tiny, they never leave a deficit.

I've been watching this orchard since the age of ten,
It has changed a lot from what it was then.

Each time I look, I find something new.
Curiosity will always remain, as fresh as morning dew.

Tuesday 31 January 2012

Yashin

Standing a little shy, by the classroom door,
I saw him first, nearly twelve years before.

It was my first day in my very own school,
Although really nervous, I was keeping my cool.

Never did I think that in my first day,
A very special one was to cross my way.

Yashin my dear, it was none other than you,
In that momentous, wonderful view.

We became friends at the very first sight,
For your charm was special and so was it bright.

It was the begining of a special relation,
One which I want to keep till my cremation.

We've been friends for years twelve,
Deep into each others mind we did delve.

All those days we talked out our hearts,
We were a machine's inseparable parts.

Your roll number, always followed mine
And on exam days, this made you happy and fine.

We've had our fights but they never lasted long,
I couldn't remain mad for we were friends that strong.

The parting of ways is soon to come,
And though my heart is beating like a drum,

I'm sure you will do well to keep in touch,
Of you I ask only this much.

At the distance of a call, I'll always be,
Just dial my number whenever you need me.

Tuesday 17 January 2012

Sans Love


There used to be a time when I was madly in love
When each day of m life seemed a treasure trove.

She was my world and her breath, my life.
Her existence was the reason for me being alive.

Nights used to be endless, dreams were kept at bay.
Topics were limitless, sleep never came our way.

Reality became a mirage and the mirage seemed real,
For such was the power of love, exotic and surreal.

Never did I give a thought, “What after this”?
For around me was love’s all consuming bliss.

But sooner or later, the mirage has to end.
And when it did, I was left alone to fend.

I nearly lost my mind for so high was my fall.
Instead of sprinting, now time seemed to crawl.

The world faded into black, then came a binding light.
My eyes hurt, so did my brain, I lost all my fight.

Nights remained endless, but filled with numbing pain.
Sleep simply eluded me, all my efforts in vain.

An idol was crushed and was displaced.
There was no way for it to be replaced.

After love comes agony and regret.
Its an experience not easy to forget.

Sans love there lies a gaping black hole.
Waiting in its haunches to consume us in whole.