Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Another leaf falls

Another leaf is ready to fall from the tree. After having nurtured and fed the tree throughout its life, it is now letting go. Letting go because that is the nature of things. Letting go not because it cannot hold on any more. But because it has served its purpose. Does that sound very selfish - to be removed when one has served its purpose - or does it sound natural.

Anyway, we must not leave the leaf yet. It has dried off, and its veins stand out, ready to snap. It has turned a half-alive yellow and then a parched, dead, brown, as if the green blood has been drained out, meticulously, drop by drop. It curls inside, at its tip, warped by age. It hangs loosely with its head down, with the surrender apparent in its careless fluttering in the wind.

Then it comes, a stong gush of wind. The twig snaps, the leaf is carried up. It tumbles and flips and dances the dance of the free. Then as suddenly as the wind came alive, it dies. The leaf floats. It knows the ending fall has come, and it takes the fall with grace. Swishing through the blue sky and grey air, it falls in this rain-washed city of concrete and bricks.

It falls on a road of heartless black tar. A road of industry and of people who inhabit the world. A world, which must move on this road. And so it does. A flash, a roar, a swift flow of metal gushes past in the careless abandon of wanton youth. And what was once a leaf, a giver of life, is now crumpled dust.

Dust that will rise with the wind, and settle on new earth. Then she will make her magic once more, and what once was life, will be life again.

And so what passes with age, will come back with age again. As will February, next year and then the year after that. Only it will be a different leaf that will fall, anew. Till the end of time. Till the end of leaves.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Tinke ki tarah

Ruswan raton main jab
tum bina sapno ke so jao,
Umadti bheed main jab
khud ko akela khada pao;
Aur jab tum manzil ki talaash main kho jaoge,
Tinke ki tarah,
mujhe apne saath behta paoge.
Tinke ki tarah,
mujhe apne saath behta paoge.

Koi dosti ka haath agar
tumhara haath na thaam le,
Beraham zindagi jab
tumhare saath sakthi se kaam le;
Aur jab tum apne dard par aur ro bhi nahi paoge,
Tinke ki tarah,
mujhe apne saath behta paoge.
Tinke ki tarah,
mujhe apne saath behta paoge.

Jao aazaad panchi
udkar apna aasmaan choomon,
Tumhara savera, tumhara suraj,
apni duniya main azaad ghoomon;
Aur agar dost chaho, to mujhe peeche chalta paoge,
Tinke ki tarah,
jab bhi behti zindagi main saath chahoge.
Tinke ki tarah,
jab bhi behti zindagi main saath chahoge.

Inspired by the magical Bridge over troubled water, by Simon and Garfunkel.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Monologues with the wall

Twice I have tried now. Thirty minutes of crafting alien worlds. But nothing compares to the one I inhabit. Fantasy refuses to take shape, in order to clothe my naked truth in elegant garbs. So I meekly surrender to the inevitable. This does not, will not, must not make sense. Why should it? Too sure of myself. Too sure. Too much faith in the beauty of the magic, which surrounds me. When I am so sure of something that I joke about the unsure bits, then I am laughed on. Energy to believe is drawn from the purity of the beliefs themselves. Corrupt that and I am left with nothing. Give it all I have. Give till I have no more to claim as my own. Perhaps. I was not born a saint, and I have not signed the pact with the devil. Yet, I suffer the sound of my own voice. Unceasingly. Day and night, for endless eons. Distances and intervals fade away. Gnaw inside my heart and eat on my conscience. Madness has its benefits. It numbs me to mockery. Tell me. Do I have the right to any questions? No body read me the Miranda before giving me a brain. There is a world out there, and here is my hand. So? So indeed. I like to delude myself about things. About choices the heart is destined to make. Words are coming to my head in a jumble of coherence. I am fighting with reason to keep this as incoherent as I can. I am tired of listening. Tired of wanting. Trying to love myself. It is too much to ask. Again, again, again! Again? But what of the part, which crumpled in a heap of lifeless ash. True, ash does not burn. The cold winds of the next storm will blow the ash away and leave me fresh. To burn some more. After all there is always someone who needs the light more. A dark worthier than mine. Losing bits of me every time. Eroding me with falling rain. Dissolving me into nothingness.

This is me.

Bread and biscuits. Blank walls. Warmth from a machine. Hugh Jackman. Ashley Judd. Yes, exactly like you. Trust in the vaguest of the vague. An undying will to live. Fleeting sleep. Backed up against the wall. Promises. Searching for calm. The hangover. Must I? Can't give up now. Why not? No tears. That's strange. Resign. Flow. There are no boundaries, no limits. There is only the pure. Inside. Outside. Envelope me back to into my delusions. Wrap me up in falling rain. Dissolving me into nothingness.

This is me.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007


Love, they say, is an act
of faith and that too blind
Oblivious, to my lack of tact
I set out with an open mind.

Poetry and prose scattered
on blue pages of my washed out blog
As though nothing else mattered
Except the comment space you hog.

Come hither, beckoned the monsoonal call
Jump in the puddle and splash me with mud
Let the number of clicks and links not matter at all
Litter, all over my page, your well-chewed cud.

As the world screamed, work!, in capital mails
A small `heylo' sneaked in and sat
A smiley hugged, winked and embarked on tales
Vexing my answers with questions pat.

O moi valentine, so I say today
My tangy, imli-sauteed-papri-chaat
Let my tummy complain from now till May
I'll eat you with all my heart.

Imli is the hindi word for Tamarind. Papri Chaat is an Indian fast food. See here for more.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


A grain of sand melts and cools into glass. A chunk of coal melts and cools into a diamond. Metamorphosis.

Ever wonder what will happen if I melt and cool again - I'll die and live again? Unlikely.

Pieces of her mind lie scattered around. It shattered right here, in my hand. Can you sum the parts again?

Words come and mend broken sentences, oozing into cracks left by careless age. A story forms.

Abstract lines blur at the tip of a paintbrush. A highlight off an earring? Scintillating.

This is not me, you know. Perhaps you don't. A gentle smile. Never mind.

A conundrum in sixteen parts. Why six and why teen? Parts of a puzzle no body is solving.

Ever watched your answers change? Slowly. A rainbow is circular. It is also made of water and air.

Like me. Like me? Lightly sauteed or grilled?

Nay. A conscience deciding by majority vote. Fillers. Appetizers. Ha!

Still searching, are we? A twinkle. Of a star. In an eye.

This does not make sense. It is not differentiable, nor is it continuous.

It is flat. Like my singing. With singularities. Points of non-existence.

We all burst upon this dimension. All? Surely not everybody!

Integral and impressionist. Reductionist and Pre-post-modernist.

Tag, you are it! Catch me if you can. In your dreams!

Pasta curry. Oh, delicious! How hungry are you? Very!

Insatiable. Curiosity. Lust. Anger. Thinking. Fear.

It's all grey. Hesitating. As long as the sky does not fall on our heads!

What's that behind you? Your cat! Ever tried helping yourself.

Don't expect any allies. Ex? Whose? Yours or mine? Mind. Games.

Wanna swing? A doll. This is crazy.

Curvy cubes. Straight bends. Impossible love.

Crude sophistication. Cruel benevolence. More. More. More.

Yes. No.


Saturday, February 03, 2007


The sky melted into the sea far, far away. He sat there, on that rough outcrop of rock on the west face of the cliff. The fading sunlight bathed the cliffs in a rogue orange.

So defiant. So far. So very far. It is so beautiful. Beauty? Do I get to enjoy such things?

The sky melted into the sea far, far away. He walked, ran, and then walked again, on the beach. The wet sand shimmered, scattering the dying sun in a thousand pieces.

My footsteps. The waves wash them away. Wash them and take them where? When do I get to go there?


His wrinkled hands pressed on his aching knees, trying to choke the pain. His shadow stretched over the rugged rock face losing its form in the creeping dark.

My faithful companion. At least someone... something stays. Choice? There is no choice. To get chosen and to choose, are games the strong play with the weak. I am neither. I've been banned.

His soft hands plopped down on his knees, resting in satisfied weariness. He was sitting on top of his shadow, shielding it from the water.

There. A little red there and some brown perhaps. Ha! The water can't reach you. Mommy will be so happy. Yes. I am big, and strong, and I'll be brave.


He strained his eyes to search. He drew back! The sun shone with the fury of a soldier who has nothing but his fight left in him. The last gleaming light scorched his heavy eyelids shut.

Angry, again! Again? What has it ever given me? Wronged, again! Again? When was it ever right? Oh no.. not again! Never again. Ever.

He looked up. He couldn't see who he was searching for. It was getting dark. The last rays lit his back with the halo of a new born promise.

Not again! He keeps getting lost. He must ask Mommy to get him new glasses. Was she coming tomorrow? Perhaps the day after. Soon. Sometime soon.

Play Me 2

Play Me

Play with my ignorance chiding
the frivolous wants of a spoilt child
screaming for the opulent gift

Play with my madness effervescent
like the foaming mouth of a rabid dog
dying of thirst on the shore

Play with my anger fusing
inside steel in molten moulds
forming skewers for intimate torture

Play with my idiocy confusing
guides touring in primal tomes
drowning senses in alluring hallucinations

Play with my perversion building
castles in clouded minds
secreting sounds in senseless spurts

Play with my guilt deriving
energies from Tesla's coils
electrocuting the air I breathe

Play with my fear enveloping
darkness of a moonless night
filling voids of the listless lone

Play with my demons devouring
innocence in gluttonous lust
hungering for a rapid fall

Oh Play Me