Thursday, December 10, 2009

Tra lala lala lala

It's returning.
Slowly.......
I can hear it in the distance.
The tingling bells, the vibration of the beats, the symphony.
Soon it will be at my doorstep.
The window panes rattle in their frames.
My foot begins to tap under the table.
The spoons begin to chime.
The water sits still no more.
It's coming.
In full blast.
The music.
It will be home soon.

Monday, November 23, 2009

The Green Monster

You don't want me. He does.
He doesn't want me. You do.
You both don't want me.
But you do want me.
And you hate each other because you both want me.
Slice me into pieces and share the spoils.
But no. You want complete and he doesn't.
Fight, stab, kill.
Push and pull me in empty spaces.
Decide and undecide in a minute.
Do and undo.
Till I feel like a pendulum.
Suspended into insignificance.

Does anybody know what I want?
I want out.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Forgetting in the Dark

A pin drops in the silence of the soul,

Nothing stirs.

That music which stopped playing then, still doesn't play.

It probably will one day.

Till then, a long stretch of lonesome quiet.

Sounds in the head, pricking memories.

Echoes of forgotten laughter. And raised voices.

A voice so far away.

Quivering promises, raped and lifeless.

Flashes of a face in the endless distance.

A hopeful step forward.

A doubtful step backward.

A hopeful step forward.

A doubtful step backward.

Till hope is slaughtered in its sleep.

It is hard to forget love.

It is harder when love forgets you...

Monday, October 26, 2009

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Soundproof


Chatter chatter chatter,

Clip, toing, patter,

Boing, dushhhh, batter,

Laugh, chuckle, chatter.


Scream, squeak, screech,

Tinkle, buzzzz, speech,

Whizzz, mumble, phiiish,

Grumble, fumble, screech.


Flap, drop, drone,

Clap, whistle, moan,

Whimper, whisper, groan,

Bammmm, slam, drone.


Fill every crevice of the day,

Until it’s time to snuggle into the blackness,

With a heavy heart, where music plays no more.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Great Dane

Rain?

No rain.

Quite a pain.

Clouds refrain.
To drain.

We strain.

Bodies slain.

On dry plain.

None sane.

Life mundane.

Wait in vain.

Sheer disdain.

Damn rain.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Holier than thou


Yes I'm angry.
And why shouldn't I be?
I'm a normal person, with myriad shortcomings and defects. I don't pretend to be perfect.
But, did you know it's a crime? To be normal? In the books of the morally superior?
Stuck under the holy microscope, every slip of conduct is apparent and magnified; there is no escape. Or forgiveness.

And then they go on and stick needles into your flesh to make you realise and repent. Their purpose of life is to keep others from leaving the path of goodness and godliness. God himself has appointed these shepherds, presenting them special traits like paranoia, obsessiveness and a rule book for a mind.

Woe be to him who crosses their path, for he shall be shot down by the arrow of virtue.
These 'shepherds' should establish churches of their own to satisfy their love for the pulpit and goody talk. May they rise to heaven and get the better berths than the common people.
I don't need your cold breath stinking down my neck everytime I open my mouth or raise my fingers in action.

Stay far from my lane or I'll hold up a mirror to you.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Nothing

There's a breeze today.
The sun sleeps behind a cloud.
People love it. So do the pigeons and squirrels nibbling outside my window at the grains I scattered for their breakfast.
I'm alone in the big room. No one's here yet. Soon it'll be bustling. Phone calls, phone ring, meetings, discussions, informal chatter, the smell of tea and sandwiches.
I'm distracted by the squirrel who eats the most. It can gobble at an incredible rate for more than thirty minutes. I'm sure there's nothing called 'indigestion' in its world.
Papaya and cherries. I'll eat them when I feel like.
Right now, I'm too full of nothing.
It's flowing out of my ears and glistening in my eyes.
The forced upward curve of my lips gives it away.
Nothing occupies my mind and accompanies me everywhere.
I feel it growing inside.
Ah! Two Red-vented Bulbuls and nothing dissipated for a second. Just a second.
Nothing sticks to my skin and the insides of my head.
But wait. Nothing seems familiar. I know nothing. I'm sure we've met before.
But of course! We've met twice. The first time, in October 2005. An unplanned meeting. You sat around for quite a long time, refusing to leave. I'd to finally shrug you off and escape.
The second in March 2007. You made me sick. Sticking close to me till I had to run into the crowd to lose you. And lose me.
Now here we meet again. What do I do this time? We just met, you're not going to let me get away this time, are you? Giggle
You've studied me to learn my weaknesses, to find crevices where you could sneak in. And you're in. And multiplying. And laughing at your success.
I sit very still.
Nothing moves me.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Bandu


Ever bumped into the realisation that people you thought were close friends beg to differ on that one? Ever found out that 'the gang' just met up and you weren't even told? Ever learnt from 'other sources' what was happening in the lives of your 'friends'?

Yes, it happens. I don't know why and I wish I did. Because you're left wondering what you did wrong and how things changed without you ever noticing. You rack your brains anxiously to mark out that word or act that sent the whole house of cards tumbling down. You want to cry because that feeling of being left out is overwhelming. You feel furious and hastily decide not to let yourself care. But care you do....because you thought they were close friends.

It takes time to detach, to reach that delicious level of indifference from where nothing touches you, and you allow yourself that stolen share of serenity. But it takes time. You have to make yourself understand that you just cannot make someone like you or keep liking you. People change and with that, they like a change of friends too. Their criteria and priorities change, they probably don't see you as fun any more. And they'll die before admitting it if you confront them on this issue. They will say, "Nothing's wrong....it's all in your mind....of course you're one of us!" And you want to believe them since you've always believed them.


Friends come, friends go. Only those scrap books you so painstakingly sat and made remain...gathering dust.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Why women in India shouldn't get married

I could write a book on this. I truly could. But I won't. Because our traditional Indian woman who's an utter idiot will never read anything that might hint at "equality," "common sense" and "rights." She kinda likes the black, silk scarf tied across her eyes, as long as it's silk and not tied too tightly. So heck, what's the use?
But the one thing that brings out the most pathetic side of a traditional Indian woman is 'holy' matrimony. She plunges from bad to super pathetic. She already allowed her whole world to tread on her, now with marriage, a new bunch of people provide a change of footwear marks. She was a 'helpless', 'taken for granted' doormat then, she's a wife/sister-in-law/daughter-in-law/maami/chaachi and the whole list now. And the responsibilities and obligations never end. Suddenly, your husband's home becomes paradise and your parents' - where your nappies were changed, you learnt your ABC and learnt how to feed yourself without spilling - a strange roof. Parents, siblings, old associations - all have to be broken just so that new ones can be formed. Is it worth it? And why does it require distancing yourself from your past to compromise for your future? It makes no sense to me and I say so quite vocally. Strangely, everyone turns around with disapproving faces, shaking heads and a resigned sighs, as if I'm the fool in the picture. I'm the fool? Really? I wonder why.... for believing that a woman's old house is just as important as the one she establishes after marriage? For believing that she belongs as much to her old parents as to her new? For believing that they have equal rights over her? For believing that the woman should not be stopped from taking independent decisions as to where she wants to stay, when she wants to stay and for how long she wants to stay? For all this, I'm a fool? Well, so be it. I'd rather be an independent, reasonable fool than a cloth puppet with one string in everyone's hand. Call me rebellious, call me idealist, call me headstrong, call me feminist. The name doesn't matter. It's what I think that does.

Angry young woman

Oh yes! It takes an external stimulant and I can feel the heat rise from my chest to my head only to vomit out my acidic fire on to another moving being. Sometimes, it doesn't even take an external stimulant to do that. The truth is, there is a lot of anger within. It struggles to find outlets so it can escape from the system but something clogs the holes and it comes out at bad bad times. Oh yes! I've become quite the 'angry young woman' of the present era as opposed to my erstwhile pleasant, smiley, sweet natured self. I'm bitter, irritable, frustrated, exasperated, impatient, snappy, sarcastic, curt, cynical, unforgiving, relentless, extremely critical, mean, immature, rude, petulant and a lot more unpleasant things. I'm so different now that I fail to recognise myself sometimes, and I wonder if I'll ever get back to what I was. What made me like this is unclear and unknown. There could be several factors but nothing that could be a sure winner. Life wouldn't be life if things were that simple.
I am quick to anger and when at the peak, all get the feel of the raging whip. It spares few. And the funny thing is, I detest myself for being like that. It feels like the pleasant side of me is trapped and watching and yelling out to not be such a bitch, but the dark side just doesn't listen. Well, dark sides seldom listen.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

No space for my red cruiser



I remember a time when sighting a car in my locality was rare. People depended largely on bicycles, cycle rickshaws and their own two feet to get around, and an occasional scooter thrown in. Houses were scattered far apart and you could see green fields and the skyline till as far as the eye took you. Herds of sheep, goats, horses, donkeys and buffaloes made daily rounds with their human keepers lending the whole scene a very pastoral feel. Sunsets were blazing and vivid and when the sun rose in the mornings, nothing escaped the loving rays. All was tranquil and I fondly remember many a hot mustard oil body massages out in the sun, better than any damn beach in Florida!

Then everyone tom, dick and harry decided to have three or four children each and little by little, slowly slowly, spaces began to diminish. Tall buildings, cars, honking, shouting, smoke - the whole package that is usually delivered to your doorstep once the purchase of development is complete. Today, I cannot recognise my colony. It used to be sprawled across a large area of industrially empty, green land - simple, happy, content and harmonious. Now every family needs a car or atleast two or three cars, everyone has kids, and everyone who got kicked out of Delhi came running here where land was cheaper. Unfortunately, too many came running to set up home here.

They've made a garbage dump of this place. Roads have narrowed since everyone holds claim to even a few inches off the roads. There is a car/bus/motorcycle every minute leaving behind smoke and shattered ear drums.

And why this sudden outbreak from me? Well, I have been thinking about this for a long time. The drastic transformation is confounding, but I was compelled to express because of the new man in my life - my red bicycle (which still needs christening).

I learnt in two days, after much loss of confidence and bruises that are still healing. Face it, I'm going to be 25 this year and here I am, struggling to learn an art that most normal kids master while they're toying with their GI Jos and Barbies (replaced in this generation by TV, you tube and video games). I conquered. Now I can ride without falling off or going into panic everytime I see a vehicle crawling towards me.

But where do I ride. With maniacs behind the wheels of 'harmful vehicles', a bicycle may as well be suicidal. Everytime I take out my bike to ride, I pray that I return home alive and undented. While I ride, I have five thousand vehicles going back and forth, passing me at distances from an inch to five inches. A slight loss of balance from either party and I'm a gonner. Some drivers are total jerks! They make the brush as close as possible to have their daily dose of sadistic fun (may they rot in hell!). A few are decent fellars, keeping their distances and letting me breathe.

What happened to all the spacious roads???? Will our country ever be able to contain its ridiculously inflating population to secure us bikers a safe bicycle lane? I might be fifty by the time they can. To escape the dirty traffic, I cleverly go out to ride on lazy Saturday and Sunday afternoons when the demons are asleep. It is then that I truly enjoy my ride, fresh cool air, the lovely winter sun, hardly anybody around and silence. How much I have waited for moments like these.

What worries me is - how much time left before bicycles are completely thrown off the road? Will there come a time when its insanely, certainly and obviously suicidal to make delicate tyres touch tar? Will bicycles be redundant one day, discarded as childish fancy and unnecessary since neither can it speed you to your destination nor is it socially enviable?

Today, children, electricians, plumbers, gardeners and factory workers are probably the only ones who venture out on these two-wheel drives run absolutely on human energy. Pathetic!

Friday, January 02, 2009

I


I’ve been watching the sun on its way down. Strange that it reminds me of me. When it rose, the world was filled with hope of a bright, sunny, warm day. It shone inspite of the cold, grey clouds and when it came overhead, it was at its best. The fall from the high is the toughest. It sunk lower and lower and lower, and perhaps it cried. But I saw no tears, only sadness, stark sadness in the dim orange which once was blazing. It hid behind a tree as it descended from its throne. Everyone needs something to hide behind when they’re sad. No one likes to be seen crying, at least I don’t. First I saw it hovering over the top branches. Five minutes later, it was lost somewhere amidst the intricate form of the tree, from where I lost it behind the massive trunk. It’s gone. I cannot see its definite shape any longer. What remains is the light it still manages to emanate. How can an invisible sun still leave behind light? Is that the magnificent power of the great giver of life on Earth? Amazing.

I am this sun. They all saw great things in me. Plans were made, my future was drafted and the words “winner” and “leader” were engraved onto my forehead. I kept it up with great pride and efficiency, giving way to the shortcomings of my being now and then. I was loved, revered and respected. They all thought I knew what had to be done all the time and I’d tell them too. I was the ‘doer’. I had plans too. I started believing them. “Hey, they think I’m wonderful…maybe I am…maybe I can do great things…maybe I am meant to do great things….maybe I was especially created for a mission….maybe I just need to settle on my cause and the way will light up on its own…” I wonder if confidence really is a good thing.

I am lost. I managed to keep standing while the earthquake rocked the world around me. But what’s so terrific about still standing? Stand? I can barely stand. I’m tottering. Unstable. Disconnected with myself and the outer world. I don’t know what’s happening inside me. People smile and ask me, “What’s happening with you?” I look blank. I’d pay them to find out what’s happening with me, it’d give me a clue. I’m on a skateboard fast wheeling downhill. Managed to keep myself on it, but a nasty fall stares me in the face. I’m waving my arms around to regain balance and control, even reaching out to clutch at something that might help me survive. But it all slips from my fingers. The icy air gives me blows in the face while my hair flies around wildly, out of control, just like me.

I want out. I do. I don’t want to be stuck in the pit forever. Other people seem to solve their mazes pretty easily, for some it isn’t that easy, but they do find their path in the end. I wonder if I’ll do too. Right now, the picture is bleak. I cannot control my anger, it engulfs me completely and I hate the whole world who’s out there to persecute me (largely imaginary). I lash out at others when it’s totally uncalled for, refuse to bury quarrels and others’ mistakes, and find cruel relief in punishing them. And I seem to punish them by tormenting myself, which leaves me more miserable than before and hence, I’m back where I started, only worse this time. I’ve caught myself in this crazy circle. Can I dig myself out of it?

Optimism irritates me. “Everything will be alright” has got to be the most over-used and least meaningful expression of the century and I have a rifle ready for anyone who sums up my situation with that. Its annoying how every tom, dick and harry has been sending me ‘Happy New Year’, quite obvious that it was sent out as a group email or SMS, nothing personalized about it, just an obligation, a formality. Do they even mean what they’re saying? Is it such a big reason to be happy and dance about like a kangaroo? The only thing it brings about is a change of calendar. Nothing else changes – poverty, pollution, wildlife extinction, crime, unemployment, cultural deterioration, sexism. Oh yeah, it’s also the time to take down Christmas decorations, an activity I keep miles away from. What could be more depressing than the end of celebration, back to dull life which has nothing worth celebrating anymore?

I am brain dead. Nothing motivates me. Nothing interests me. Nothing makes me completely happy. Even if I smile for a moment, sadness paces the ground of my mind in the background. I am not wholesome. I am dead.