Simmering
On the frying pan of destiny
Marinated in the spice of discontent
A peep in the past
At all the moments wasted
And all that could have been
Breaks the peace on the surface
As the bottled rage
Still molten within
Breaks out
In an explosion
Every now and then
The light of reason
Fails to heal the despairing depths

A little tired

A little tired
of pointing fingers at you
A little tired of being judged
For words blurted out
A little tired of routine
Tired of mundane
A little tired of jokes
That never change with passing days
Tired I am of expectations
Tired then of self pity
Tired of being made out the sinner
Tired of defending

Tired. Just a little tired today.

The interval


No. That it can not be
That death is the end
Where does the 'I' go

Is it like a long sleep?
From which the 'I' wakes up again
In a semi dark womb?


What happen to memories?
Do they burn with the body?
Or get eaten by voracious worms?


Or do they travel with the soul
Lying dormant in a miniscule corner?
Countless memories
From countless lives
Over the aeons?
And every now and then an atom escapes
And enters dreams and
Infests ideas and thoughts
Getting recycled...

If death was stopping,
Whats the whole point?
Life is meaningless.

Or, life is nothing but
a series of moments
fresh like dew
until the interval
of a long sleep

And the wheel spins
Again and again

The famous man
Lay there on the mat
His nose stuffed with cotton wool
A pauper
Fools around him wept
In loss or ritual
Didn't they know that death
escapes none?
And so it must come
To the rich and the poor,
To the good and the evil,
To the famous and the unknown,
When the last breath is drawn
And escapes into the ether
The body but an empty shell
Eaten by worms and ants

Yes we all must lie down then
With cotton wool in our nose
Shrouded in white
Penniless
While the smell of camphor
Hides the stink
Before finally blazing into
Cinders and ashes
On the bed of fire

The only thing that remains
Are the words and art
The deeds and the memories
The photographs and the legacy

From ashes to ashes
Dust to dust

To a dear friend

Friends
can be like
An 'elastic band'!
The more it is stretched
The more it wears.
Enough to break
And then I move on

Or like this bowl of ice cream
That I cherish as long as I have it
full and creamy in my bowl
and then its over, licked.
I move on
To a different flavour!

Then there is you
This glass of wine
That I sip and savour
On nights of nostalgia
With my feet in the rug
And while I sip
The cup over flows
Unending.
Mildly intoxicating
At once, pleasure and pain
Like the unsuspecting rain
leaving me drenched
in love and laughter

A shadow that stays with me for ever
yet never imposing.
That understands and retreats
Without resenting
When I choose to escape
Into my sacred private space
You wait with patience


You with whom I share my passions
Who is my only true mirror
that doesn't lie and doesn't hurt
where I see myself
Just the way I am

You. My only friend!

only a moon

They shine. Like the sun
In the morning sky
Spellbinding and glorious
Fiery and majestic
Dispersing the darkness of ignorance
With the beacon of their writing
Spreading warmth and joy
To solemn hearts
Rinsing their minds and
Moulding their thoughts

I am but a poor poet
Who shines like the moon
If you may
With no light of her own
But ever once in a while
I reflect
The light that is thrown on me
And I hope it lights up
The path of a weary traveller
On a cold dark night of gloom

Martyr of love

She hangs there bleeding on the cross
A martyr of unrequited love
Nailed to it with stubbornness
Drenched in self pity
Everyone else moved on
While vultures of loneliness came mocking

Holding tightly to the sand until it ran out
Slipping thru’ her fingers
The fist still clasped shut to emptiness
Only the shadow of love and hope remained

She stood frozen in time
In a bubble of suspended living
Like a forgotten piece of art
In a glass box

She stood facing the darkness
And behind her
The world had turned
To the promise of splendid dawns
and warm sunshine
Shining on possibilities
If she only let go

A Child
Living in the moment
Breaking into peals of laughter
At a funny face
Crying the heart out at a treat denied
A child
Forgetting the pain
In a moment of distraction
Refusing to take a moment to relax
So as not to miss out on life
Finding delight in the butterfly’s erratic flight
Absorbed in the petals of a bloom
A child
Not judgemental about the color or the culture
Ignorant of the divides
Only seeing the love inside

A child trusting, keeping faith
A child loving unconditionally
A child vulnerable and yet so strong

Isn’t that all there is to live for
Who are we to teach them how to live
Lets live like children

The nurturing sleep


Tossing and turning
The mind, a turmoil of thoughts
Dark emotions rise and fall
As sleep keeps away.
Doubts abound, worries wrestle
Solution is lost in the clutter

Sleep finally arrives
Like rain in the desert
Sweet drops of dew on parched lips
Like a restorative
Curing the disease
A sponge to wipe the slate clean

Finally the day dawns
The waves of thoughts have calmed
The sediments of doubts have settled
And in that pristine unruffled water
Knowledge gleams through
Like treasure
Illuminating from the depths

Time is a two faced monster
Bolts when you want it to trudge
And The Creep crawls when
You have nothing to do but
Wait for a blip
On the faraway horizon
Looking ahead into the hazy future
A day feels like an age
Look behind and half a century
Seemed to have passed in a blink

Some days
living life like I am
Aimless at times...
lethargic at other
Running sometimes like the hare
Wincing at the clock in his paws
On pensive evenings
I get the feeling
That time is running out
I can almost hear
the grains of sand falling
There is some unfinished work
Something more I had to share
Before the knell resounds

Bottle your scent

I would if I could,
Bottle your scent.
Preserved for posterity.
In small crystal vials
Labeled, stored on the kitchen shelf
High above behind pickle jars
Safe from prying, careless hands

So, when you are grown up
When you no longer need me
Trudging ahead to your independence
Calling me across spaces
From a faraway distance

I, old and wrinkled.
With fading memories
Of the delight you brought to me
I, alone in the empty silent house,
Pull out your old rag dolls
The busted car with three wheels
The shoes that I hid with squeaky heels

Racks of albums and yellowed
Pictures in which you grew up
My favorite here… wrapped in pink
Eyes closed, contented
Head resting on tiny hands
Scratched Cds I will play
To watch you cruise again
Or watch you mop the floor
With baby hands
Peering through the horn framed glasses
I will watch you
Mouthing the first syllables
Feeding the doll with the lotion bottle

I will bring down the vials
And sniff-in your innocence
The smell of your unwashed hair
Your pastry breath after a feed
Clean soft pink feet after a bath
Clothes dirty with food and mud.

And for a moment when I close my eyes
I can still touch and feel you
Like you were born yesterday

Misgivings of an apologetic native

Who am I? I ask.
Where am I from? I wonder
Bred outside in other cultures
Born away from my native land
Visiting on summer vacations
Speaking gibberish
I am an apologetic native
I am lost. I don’t belong.

Assimilating all that I saw and heard
In different hues, coloured.
No longer have I an identity
My own is lost in
A cauldron of odour
Restless like the wind. A free?
Or a loose?... spirit.
Bound for a nomadic existence
Searching for a rest place.
Where I can put up my feet
Where I belong

But are we not all nomads?
Mere mortals, from birth to death?
Stamped with a culture
By the accident of birth
Showing off our identity
See? I belong.
Defending, possessing.
Accusing, Judging
Departing from the stage
When the role is over

Ask not where I am from
For I cannot answer truthfully
Ask not where I am going…
I am like the river forging its destiny
Through rugged unknown land
Like the wind am I
Blowing across frontiers
Breathing in the smell
Of a thousand and more
enchanting cultures
I, a weary confused traveler,
Am just passing thru’
In this transient illusion

A verse to my parents


Dear mother
I love thee
I never showed it
For I never learnt to
I borrowed the words of my soul
From cards I chose with care
And hoped it would make up
For the truth I was too cowardly to share
Oh mother
Now that I am one too
I understand the pain you went thru’
And not just when I was flung out
From the warmth of your womb
Into this scary world
But oh on so many nights of pain and ague
When you held my fractured soul
When you put me first above all your needs
And indulged and spoilt me over
Mother
I still crave for the security
Of the beautiful home you keep
The doors always open
The food always warm
And on dark nights of rain and thunder
When I cringe under the sounds of the heaven
I feel reassured
For you slept in the next room
Mother Thank You
For inspiring
For nurturing

Dear daddy
You are my friend
In good times and better,
We had fun without end
You worked hard to bring home the bread
You drank the hardship of life
Till your throat turned blue
Father
I understand you
Your impatience, your temper
For I am so like you
I understand your sulks and your moods
For I inherited them too
You love sitting at home in the rain
And that’s the way I like it
We may not so often talk
But I am proud to be the chip of the old block
Dear father
You expected a great deal from my self
But I chose to follow my whims and dreams
But I hope someday you can
Let rest your frustrations
I didn’t get where you wished to see me
But I am where I like to be
Father
Thank you for the guiding hand
The encouragement and yet restrained
The safety net when I fell
The push when I needed to go ahead
Father
Thank you
For pushing
For consoling

ANger that heals

An uncontrolled angry outburst
Can sometimes lend voice to the unsaid
When the deepest darkest truth
Swept under the rug of assumed tolerance
And deliberate mature understanding
Is liberated out of the crater
Stunning, heart breaking, destroying
And yet mercifully and delightfully honest
A break from the revolting hypocrisy
Perhaps burning all that is old and dry
And yet cleaning the slate
For something new and fresh to take life
To start anew
Without past pretenses

Permanent in past

Future uncertain like writings on sand
Short lived, changing…
With every wave of whims and dreams
Wishes run amok like wild horses
Painting the blank canvas
With splendid colors
Wants displacing needs…
Sweet desires building castles of glass
Fragile, precariously hanging on the precipice
Shimmering in rainbow colors
Like a floating naked bubble
Destined to perish to nothingness
Future like a slow conveyer belt
Looming ahead, approaching…
Excitable fearsome hopeful

Time passes through the doorway
Of the present moment

And then

Events
Engraved on marble now
Permanent.
Joyful or sorrow but
Unchangeable.
Relegated to the archives of history
Stored in perfume bottles of nostalgia
Recorded as mere statistics
Etched in distant memory

Hopes die
Battles are lost
Dreams are shattered
Hearts sink
Tears inundate

You cannot do a thing
And all that you try to do
Changes nothing
You can hit
Prick. Kill.
But time marches on
Relentlessly
Dangling the carrot of future
Seemingly malleable
Destiny follows like the faithful shadow
Ticking the correctness of events
As was intended always
As was written
As it slowly sets
Into the unalterable past

Small talk

Let’s talk
Even if there is nothing to
Let’s ask how the weather is
What did you dine on today?
Or just simply ‘how was your day’
Small talk to keep the conversation going
To fill the awkward first meetings
Small talk to hang on to breaking strands of relationships
So family dinners are not shattered in silence

Small talk it is if nothing else
Pardon my persistence
For I ask the obvious.
I repeat the questions time and again
For its not your answer I seek
But the voice you speak with
Because when words dry up doors are shut

I patronize I control
Don’t fret too much about it
Anger is not a pleasant bedmate
So talk and let go

I sleep today with a blank mind
No regrets or nagging thoughts
Tomorrow is a brand new day.
For another cycle of
Small talk

Be like a child

She stood on the bed leaning
At the head board, pleading
To be lifted And I, busy,
Near by, just out of reach
Thinking,
"One day she will fall"...
I tell her,"I'll be there soon, love,
In a minute." She excited,
Playing, jumping, pleading,
Tipping precariously ...
In a second landed with a thump on the floor;
I shout "NOOOO..." As if
The sound would some how
Cushion her fall
I watch helpless and horrified
I wonder later if I could have
Caught her. Did I have the time?
Had I, stunned into inaction,
Given up and let her to her fate?

Head down. on all fours...
A moment of silence
As long as eternity
And then the loud wail.
More in shock than in pain
I grabbed my little one.
Shaken up, I embrace her close to my heart
Soothing myself as much as her.
Hugging her warm little body.
I have nothing to say except
"I am sorry baby"
Over and over again.
I rub her nasty bruise gently
As it turned blue black.
I stroke her back slowly
As her whimpers died
The tears stopped running
Leaving a streak behind
She calms down and is quiet
Her head resting on my shoulders

I take her on my lap still shaking.
My heart pounding
I am close to tears
As I offer her my breast
She gratefully accepts and suckles.
The bruise is now a goose egg..
She hurt her head
Is she fine? I worry
I gently rub her belly
And with the nipple still in her mouth
She smiles and then laughs!
The fall now forgotton, I sigh.
Everything is fine.

Only I wish I forgot my pain
As quickly as my little girl

Make believe. Pretentious.
Obscure. Corrupted
Words spew out from the mouth
A pale relative of the true emotions
Raging like a storm
Thoughts unbridled, spontaneous
Mushroom in the fertile soil.
Like wind blowing across frontiers,
Untamed, unfathomable,
Blessed with secretive sanctity
Brutally honest, fearless.
Coming to life when interpreted
And in misinterpretations
Naive words made a scapegoat.
Blamed for war and fire
When it was only a messenger.
Shot in place of hideous desires
Menacing and smirking inside.
Don’t trust the words for they are
Doomed to be untrue
A poor imitation to the unspoken feelings
Listen to the heart instead
Hear the words unspoken
Unearth the truth lurking between the lines
Feel the emotion that gently exudes
Unnoticed thru' the eyes
Before it gets garbed in words
glamourised or demonised.
Never has a word done justice
to the emotion, Of which
Its just an unillustrious offspring
Whether it was despair or anger
love or hate
Either falling short
or exaggerating the rage
Let the words pass like waves
Perishing in the moment and reborn in another
Open your inner eyes to the truth unclothed
Rising in the womb of eternity
As slimy uncorrupted thoughts

My little one,I wonder.
What are you dreaming of in the dark interior?
Its bright and sunny outside
Anticipating your coming home.
Are you like your father?
Or mother or a bit of both?
The world is waiting with bated breath
To see you wake up from your long sleep

What destiny are you carrying on those tiny shoulders
What aspirations run in that tender mind
And while you kick those tiny feet
And explore the womb and its mysteries
One day will you tread the world
And explore the universe and beyond
Challenges await you And temptations
Joy, pleasures and destinations
So rest all that you can my love
Your mother awaits your arrival

March, 2008