Colors

random words that hardly make sense are knocking around in my mind.

"ek tumhaari jo nazar jo padi,
mere ye udhaar ke rang bhi khil ute hain dekho"

and some other random words. nothing makes sense.

something like -

beneath these pristine white robes of mine
to protect which, I refuse to make merry with you
refuse to color my hands & refuse to fall in love

I still carry the stains of betrayal;
of pain and hurt. colors that were once of love
and are now tear stains of gangrenous sorrow

Nothing makes sense. really.

a moment

Have been more than depressed lately; not many things are wrong, but each tiny thing matters.

the daughter is with my mom for the week. while her house resounds with laughter every time I call, my own house seems to have grown to 3 times its size, and silences boom in the empty spaces of the hollow that was once a home.
It is just the two of us now. Incomplete and lost. once a family, but now without her, incomplete. I think and i wonder how was life before her? Was it life before her?

She comes back on the weekend though, never have waited for anything more ardently. never have wanted anything more passionately.

*************
randomly clicked on a link that spoke of love and well, such things. Suddenly glad that the husband cant write. CANT WRITE. even to save his life. except maybe, Agreements and Legal documents. but that isnt writing.
For if he wrote, he would put in words a moment that we shared and it would no longer be a moment. it would be ... well, a random mass of words that was laid bare for everyone to read.
The moment, the look, the magic, the sorrow, the happiness - everything. Our love. would then be laid bare. It would no longer belong to us. it would then be assimilated by everyone who read it.

There is this ad. "platinum day of love". love does not need platinum. but yes. love needs that one moment. love needs me. it needs him.

Why is it, that it never ends?
This one moment of life.

In the cacophony of the world,
Why is it that this silence never ends
This one moment of silent life.

In the tangle of time,
Why is it that this moment never ends?
This one moment of 'alive' life.

life is but, a couple of flicks,
of your hair thrown back
but the moment lives on forever.

random poetry

that doesnt quite rhyme, or hit the right note.

What makes you toss and turn Radha?
What makes you lay awake all night long?

The sounds of your anklets drown in your fears
The full moon shies away from your tears

The inky black sky, is not darker than the sorrow within
The stars are not brighter than your tears that flow within

What brings those tears out Radha?
What is it that your heart thinks is wrong?

somewhat similar to this

Frustration and restlessness remain, things keep getting more and more complicated, and we wish to be taken off to a place without memories, or responsibilities,or relationships, or days without work. *sigh*

hindi option

तुमने जो घाव दिए हैं,
वह दिल के दाघ इस कदर नासूर बने हें
कि मेरी मोहब्बत भी बद्दुआ सी लगती हें

my thoughts

walked up to buy a new diary; after a lot of thought and asking the guy to crawl into nooks and crammys and picking up the "right" kind of diary; realised; really did not want to. DD has been with me for nine years now. cannot think of replacing DD. so does that mean; when the couple of pages left over are filled in there will be nothing else? right now; not sure, dont know.
right now, need to just write in DD; but scared, that precious paper will be used up for rambling.

the classes at the iimb are coming to an end; feb 9th will be the last class. feel sad about it. very sad. the course began at a time when there was nothing else to look forward to; during the year; there were times when the only reason the week would pulled through was for the classes in the weekend. the mad frenzy to complete assignments in the middle of umpteen other things will sorely be missed.the course and the insti have instilled ... lets say a new zest for life; a new dimension to it.. sigh.

in an extremely cranky mood today; legs hurt like ..ouch! they hurt, thats all. mood swing time now. the stomach hurts too.. so does the back and the waist; aah, not one living cell in the body that doesnt. the esophagus has decided to run in reverse gear; all the digestive juices come up; instead of the food going in;
every small and insignificant thing will look like mt everest the next few days. every time one doesnt smile wide enough, it will mean resentment and artificiality, everytime my fone isnt picked up; it will mean hate and negligence ... the next few days will go slow, very very s..l..o..w..; pms is an expert in making a woman a scheming bitch.

come to think of it, why do men treat women like some parasite or something? every independent self respecting woman who stands straight and calls an ace an ace is from the andromeda galaxy; and every female who snivells and sniffles and cries out loud and faints at the drop of a hat is a fine example of the "weaker sex" and men shall rush out to protect the 'lady'. a "woman" has to cry and make her emotions known; she has to find the shoulder of a man to run to ... sigh. its going to take another trip round the universe to transform this one into a lady.
damn, got milk on my hair, will need to clean it up now. shit!

look up and see the morning sun, bright red and warm
look out in the garden, and see the flowers and the bees swarm
and, then , as I read a book, half asleep, and the wind rustles the pages
the sun, the book, the wind , the bees, the moment, all of them, sweet images
I wish, I could, send them all to you, untouched and pure

curl up in the night, the teddy company
toss and turn; held in throes of a nightmare
blood and gore, death and disease play the symphony
the toy, the sleep, the dream, the nightmare, all of them, unspoken fears
I wish, I could, my head on your shoulder, with you share

alone and quiet, comptemplating and musing
hearing my heart beat, thinking of you, falling in love
the muse, the love, the solitude, all of them belong to you
I wish, I could, in a moment of silence, tell you all
of how much I love you

and , in a moment

lazy sunday afternoon,

the kind of noons when you hear the phone ringing, dont even stretch your hand out to put it on a silent mode, instead, just turn the other side, drag the pillow over your hear, snuggle a li'l more and curl up.

the kind of noons, that when you suddenly feel bored, and like the feeling of feeling bored and lazily, yawn and stretch and plonk back into your pillows.

the long noon, when a moment reminds of you of someone, and then, a song creeps up into your senses ...

thought Sakshi would have that song, as soon as fingers touched the keyboard, they rummaged through her website and returned back a li'l disappointed; but anyways, here's the moment and feel free to wallow in the grief of broken love as Mukesh sings for Manoj Kumar in this block buster of yester years - Purab aur Paschim.

Koi_Jab_Tumhara_hr...

Reading poetry ... "All You Who Sleep Tonight" by Vikram Seth.

Sit, drink your coffee here; your work can wait awhile.
You’re twenty-six, and still have some life ahead.
No need for wit; just talk vacuities, and I’ll
Reciprocate in kind, or laugh at you instead.

The world is too opaque, distressing and profound.
This twenty minutes’ rendezvous will make my day:
To sit here in the sun, with grackles all around,
Staring with beady eyes, and you two feet away.

- Vikram Seth.

What a juxtaposition to the song and the poem, what a marvel is the mind that can conjure up two separate sets of emotions in a single moment?

The Favor

Will someone do me this favor?
Empty that cauldron of dreams,
Switch off the moon too
And pull the plug off the stars
For they are far too noisy and add to the chaos deep within

Mute that rustle of the Gulmohar
Pause that incessant dripping of water
From that tap yonder
Hold back the sun
And postpone the day
For they search too long and deep for secrets hidden within

Just let me slip under the blanket of darkness
and moist it with my tears
let me drown in the sounds of my sobs
amplified a zillion times over by my grief
gasping for air and clutching for life
until the sobs and their sounds take over
leading me to that death valley of dreamless sleep.

Finance it is then!

Sit down to work on a deadline, and suddenly the mind is befuddled by random lines

Breathe not the air of my city traveler
Set not a foot in the ruinous alleys here

Fumes of jealousy have poisoned the air
Stench of rotten corpses lurk in street corners
Coagulated blood shall hold you in its vice
Shards of a broken heart shall pierce your eyes

A battle has been fought here, warring chieftains lay dead there
The ego has triumphed and the love has been slain

Breathe not the air of my city traveler
Set not a foot in the ruinous alleys here
----------------------------
It’s a cold and lonely night out there
traveler
Come sit by me, warm yourself,
next to the fire

The pyre of my love still burns bright
The flames shall cackle all night.
----------------------------
will I never be alone?
I crave solitude

Forever refusing to leave my side is this moment
This moment of ages ago, the moment when I fell in love with you
----------------------------
a big Thank you and a nice hug to Prasoon who kept company when no else would bother about me ; thank you there dude :)
----------------------------
The finance classes at IIMB have made me happy beyond anything.
I love finance, and thats an added incentive.

The classes took me back to a time when dad was the banker, when decisions was something that adults took, when my cycle was my most prized possession, when the innocence of age made dreams look plausible, when my best friends were sitting right next to me giggling over my silly jokes or a good looking guy, when the most funny thing was the prof's inability to say an "R" after a hard consonant (his research was pronounced reseeche - he made up the lost R with extra Es), when the only aim in life was to answer the costing question before that irritating boy in the second bench did, when Gantts charts and Emerson's methods were the only 'difficult' ways bonuses could be calculated for non existent workers, when budgetary costing was a topic in a subject, and so were equity offerings and bond valuations, when profs called us 'kids' when CA was the be all and end all, when the bloom of innocent love was the most wonderful thing to happen - of shy dreams and stolen moments, when internet was available only in cyber cafes, when being told 'excellent presentation' was the highest point of life, when small fights were fought to sit on the 'cieling fan end' of the bench, when friends were just friends - people you could make mischief with, people who were just a few minutes away on a cycle, who stood by you like fevicol - even when you made a mistake, who called you 'dolly' or 'ent-ra',who fought for you one on three because someone made you cry, who passed silly chits in the CST class, who took the brunt for you in the Corp Law class, who did your homework for you because you were too 'busy' eating noodles with the man in your life, when ten rupees looked like a hundred thousand as you waved the note under your friend's noses and took them out to eat guvavas,when your friends' moms cooked nice stuff for you to eat as you stayed the whole day at their place for 'combined study', when your friends fought as to who should tie the friendship band first on your hand, when you recieved atleast a dozen greeting cards and equal number of roses on valentines, when you bullied your juniors, when you beat up that guy who dared to follow your friend home, when you had racing matches on your cycle, Sweet Magic and Hot Breads, friends who named each other Tommy, Jackie and Jimmy and made up silly songs like "oh tommy, tu meri sapnon ki kuttiya", when your prof told you he would love to have a daughter like you, when you stood peering out of your class windows nose stuck to the grills watching the men battle it out for some random girl, when the funniest person you'd seen was your sanskrit ma'm and the most bold thing for anyone to say was "I love you" esp if said in front of more than two people, when your worth was decided on how many marks youve got, when you sung "meri chunar ud ud jaaye" on your way to college,when you woke up at 8:30 AM to realise that you are at class and have missed the Company accounts class, but your friend has managed to jot down the entire class not only in her book, but yours as well, when you did not read a thing for the weekend exam, and copied from her paper - just to realise later as the prof handed out the graded papers that youve not only copied the content, but the name and Id number as well, when the marks depended on your handwriting...

Aaaahh, Finance. I love finance.

How many

Has the fire of love ever burnt you?
Has it ever burnt within you?

Hey Krsna
Into how many pieces does a heart break?
Answer your Radha; dear Krsna
In how many tear drops will an eyelid soak?

Has the ocean of longing ever drowned you?
Has it ever washed the shores of your heart?

O Krsna
How many poems does it take to erase the disgust?
My Lord, answer your consort
How many years of penace for love is a must?

Has the lack of reason ever taken hold of you?
Has reason ever prevailed in you?

O Krsna
How many broken promises will it take to see the truth?
Your devotee asks you ; answer your Meera
How many lonely nights must be spent before losing faith?

How many more?
Just how many?

Kyon

[ Lalit's editorial skills and some seriously good insights helped make a few random lines a good poem. Thanks for bearing with my incorrect Hindi and random scrawlings and making it a nice readable poem :) ]

khaali dil pe saji sooni khaamoshi hain
khokle waadon se bane lambe raaste hain
laashein bichi hain,
ghav ubharkar naasor bane hain,
jo kahin se teri yaad aayi to
jalti raet main baarish, si kyon hain

aahon ne aawaz di hain
siskiyan karwat badalti hain raat bhar
raat ki maili chaadar ye kahti hain
koi waada ya umeed to nahin
phir bhi aaj dil ko mere
tera hi intezaar sa kyon hain

soone dagar pe ek adhmare ped ki shaaq hain
toote kuch thahake hain, murjhaye kuch lamhe hain
na zindagi ki shor hain yahaan, na maut ki koi aahat
phir bhi ped ki ek hari shaakh pe...
aaj bhi bahar si kyun hain

duniya ki mehfil main,
ruswa hokar meri mohobbat khadi hain
aaoge kabhi tum yahaan,
is baat ka yakeen to nahin
phir bhi teri ek nazar ke liye
ye dil bekaraar sa kyon hain

Poetic Influences

Happened to click a random link on Shekhar's blog ( I love reading this man's blog - more than anyone elses. Other than him being good at writing and other blah - the most important factor that leads me back to his blog is the element of genuinity and truth in it. The humble pride in it, which makes even a sentence like " I woke up at 6 AM" so true and touching.)
Aah, anyways, I happened to reach here. My first impulse was to write a comment about how much I love the poem too; as I was writing the first few words, poems just came gushing through the mind... and this post is born.

I absolutely love the The mind is without fear that Shekhar's put up there;
I have a print out of Rudyard Kipling's IF which forever eggs me on, to lead a life not of judgement and bias, but of harmony with oneself. I always relate this to the Gita and wonder if there really is a connection - if Kipling knew of the Gita when he wrote this.

You can safely estimate that Ive read this poem atleast a couple of couple hundred times already and everytime, it never ceases to amaze me, the amount of strength you can derive from a few lines.

Robert Frosts poem Mending wall on relationships always makes me stop and think - the line in which Frost says

What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall

never stops fascinating me, always making me think with a myraid of emotions, the walls I have around me, and the walls people have around them - all to protect that small tiny thing lurking in the ribcage.

When he writes The Road Not Taken , He writes for each one of us, the inner need to take the road not taken and chart our own foot prints there in that untrodden path.

Another of Rabindranath Tagore's ( sorry Shekhar - I aint a Bengali) poems that made me wonder as a child was this Prayer... as the years have gone by, this poem has accquired many many shades to it in my understanding.
Funny how words like 'penury' can develop in understanding as you see life go by.
and Funny, how sentences like
"And give me the strength to surrender my strength to Thy will with Love"
can become the basic mantra you live by.

In fact Tagore's Geetanjali, in itself is a spiritual text that appeals to the mind, heart and soul ... moves the reader from sympathy to empathy, from inaction to action and/or action to inaction; worldly to Godly.

How can I leave out Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening when on a topic like poetry? So many times, in life have I wanted to stand and watch the flowers, and the poem has urged me on - miles to go before I sleep

Poetry for its sheer beauty has always entrances the audience. Romance* holds the unsuspecting reader in sway; emotions and the subtlites of the human heart always never ceases to attract - drawing the reader in the imagination which blurs literature and reality, material and the spiritual.

Little surprise then, when I say Lord Tennyson's The Brook made me yearn for the freedom and the permanence that the brook enjoys.

Shelly's Ode to the West Wind is another strong contender in being adequately dark and alluring.

William Wordsworth conjures up such beauty and romance in his words that it is so impossible to write about poetry and not about him; his words transport to an alternate realm of nature, beauty and romance ... be it The Solitary Reaper which all CBSE kids have read at school or his other poems such as I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.

Nearer home again, we've had such a bounty of Indian poets , writers and playwrights, that I could list out the names until sundown and yet have an incomplete listgreats such as Sarojini Naidu, Subramanya Bharati, Tagore, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, Gulzar, Amrita Pritam, Mirabai, Kabir, Tulasidas, Kamala Das, C. RajaGopalachari .. oh, the list is unending.

Poetry, is one form of communication, which appeals to the soul, rather than to the senses. That feeling of goosebumps one gets while reading a poem is because the writer's soul plunges within the readers and touches the spiritual cords that make up the inner most cords of man.

Poetry, which forms the base for music - is a form of bhakti, karma and jnana - a way to meet the Supreme - who in fact lurks within each of us - gaana seva - as it is called in the Indiann tradition - is a way to travel inward, and in the journey, re-discover ourselves in a totally new light.

* - Romance - not the bollywood boy runs across the fields of punjab with a silly feather stuck on his head to please a dark skinned girl dressed in a very silly white outfit.
If you have reached until here, I guess you have a fair idea as to the usage of the word.

After Rhyme and Beyond Reason

like a flower picked for God
but never offered to HIM

like the rain aspiring to fall into an oyster
but falling on barren earth

like the life aspiring salvation ...
but getting stuck in the cycle of rebirth

like sunshine
on a house dilapidated

like roses
in a garden unweeded

like words
without a reason or rhyme

like a lotus in a desert
all in wither and fade

like love pure
slashed with slander

Thus I crave for you

beyond the barrier of time
across the boundary of distance
even after the journey of life
I wait for you

like the sky deviod of stars
like the earth ridden of wars
like the anklet without bells
I am without you

After time
After life
After distance
After death
After victory
I still pine
for I am alone.
written some time back, I post it here, now.

Its that time of the year again

A ragpicker that I am ,
Riches avoid me.
A heretic that I am ,
My Lord deserts me.
I lay down on the floor of my wretched home
Waiting for death to visit


150 posts and almost 2 years later , Its that time of the year when I feel a pause in this blog is warranted. I dont know for how long but I do know I must stop.
The same way I stoped talking to DD after I got "her" back .

For sometimes , we spend so much time talking and listening to the noises of the world that the importance of silence is lost upon us.
I for one , have got constantly so used to this noise , this cacophony , that now my ears long for the sound of silence, I want to hear silence , feel it weigh heavy on my ears. I have spoken so much to myself that now I want to stop. And the first step would be to put a break on the way this blog is going.
It has become a manner of addiction , not because people read what I write , not many do, but because this blog has become something I would not want to say out aloud , lest the spell breaks.

In this navratri , when the whole world rejoices ,
Death , dances at my threshold.
In this deepavali, when lamps will be lit,
Darkness will pervade my home.
This festival , when the streets overflow with flowers,
Stench will seek refuge in my heart.

Search !

Has life come to a standstill?
Have I lost the want to live?
Have the lost the will?

I still smile ,
I always will,
My lips open wide....
From each to the other side,
In a broad grin that is ,
what is it though that the mirror tells me?
that no one , no , not even me can see
it says , nothing , nothing but
my eyes it says , have crinkled in pain.

Life is fine,full of silken clothes and
O so costly wine.
It has though, taken a turn..
walked a furlong
or , I look back.. and think has it been a lifetime?
Seems like a lifetime...
feels like a minute though...

Just here , just now just a minute ago,
or was it eons ago?
Did I hear your voice?
Is that you .. lying low and
lurking in the shadow?

I turn around , I look back,
Cant walk back though ...
Are you there?
Still behind the door
Trying to catch me unawares
trying to take me along with you
to new hieghts .. to explore and to soar?

Was that your voice ... was it me that you called?
It is the rustle of the leaves
It is the memory.... fading away ..like water through the sieves.
or is it ? Yes it is , it is the riddle of past being solved.

Then again , as I turn,
I see myself in the mirror,
Are those your hands caressing my face?
In the light I see, it is just the mole on my cheek.
Is it the dent caused by you lips ...
but it is , it is just the dimple when I speak.

I walk down the untrodden present ...
there I see you again ,
in the light of the moon crescent.
I see her in your arms ..
I see her lips on yours.
I give a silent whisper to her..
Kiss him tight , hold him close ,
Do everything and try not to lose
I say this , I say it again...I know how it is
to smile , but yet feel the anguish
To hear the heart say over and over again..
"O how I wish, How I wish
I had the seat next to you,
on your chariot of gold"
and I also do know to listen
to the pained mind saying
"Beggar woman, your place is but
on the stone floor , lonely and cold"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coming To Terms

Watch out sister ,
It is a diamond that Ive given you,
But then....
Nay, It is but just a rock.
Ive held it long ,
Nay , though , never held it dear
Never held it near...

I am so beautiful,
I need diamonds , not just a rock,
I am a princess ,
I want a prince , not a beggar whom people mock.

I have given it to you sister ,
Hold it sister , hold it close.
See the sunshine ?
'tis all mine .... take it sister,
Its given me too many a blister.

The beggar , the rock ,
The prince the diamond ....
is it me that I mock ?
is it me that I seek?
is the rock? is it the prince?
is it the jewel? is it the beggar...
I think and I stagger
along this mind's terrain.

He is grumpy when he's hungry ,
He is handsome when he is angry.
Kiss him and close he'll hold you,
Hold him and he'll kiss you.

Ask him a rose , he'll give you a garden,
Ask him a drop , he'll give you the ocean.
Ask him for a grin , he'll give you a smile,
He'll give you the world , just ask him for a mile.

Watch out sister, hold him close,
I still await my prince...
Who will come with all the stars and the moon ,
To spread them here , on me ....
he'll get them for me to see ...

Watch out sister,
You have but picked up the rock
I have thrown...
You have but picked up the jewel
I have disowned...
You are blind to take it , a worthless stone,
I have been blind to throw it ,
a treasure unknown.
watch out sister,
All you have is a rock
Whom the world does mock,
But then, Nay sister, it is , but it is a diamond,
Hold him sister, hold him close.

The Lovelorn Lady

All alone there she sits ,

Homeless and hopeless.



A huge mansion, sprawling gardens,

and luxury surround her,



but,

on her face ,

there lays only despair,

and people say , her heart ,

it has broken beyond repair.

All alone there she sits,

with a tear stained lace ,

Homeless and Hopeless.



It is said ,

that into oblivion she watches,

all day and all night long,

with nothing to support her ,

but her will power strong.



Every night is a new moon night ,

every day is eclipsed.

Her body is a ghastly sight ...

and seems that her soul is whipped.

Yet....

Day after day , night after night ...

there she sits , homeless and hopeless !



With no heart to say

"I love you"

with no hand to touch and care,

no lips to ask .."Do you love me too ?"

and ;

with no soul to give her

a home and live with her !



The ruthless world ,

the heartless souls,

the mindless people....

They are all the same,

they say the same , they see the same...

they all wonder the same thing too....

for ,

they all say ,

"Why should she be homeless ,

when she has a house?"



Why should she sit there ....

Homeless and hopeless?"



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Arpz !

Someday............but ,

Someday .......



Someday ,



Someday, I might just look back,

Someday ,



someday , I might just be able to say ,

Something on today.........



Something like "How Silly ! "

Or maybe something like

"'Twas all just Dilly Dally"



Someday,

Someday, I might just look back

and not see this huge sack

that im forced to carry now !



Someday I might just stand tall

and straight

without this disheartening

dull weight ....

on my soul , someday,

Someday, I might just become whole !



But .........



But today,

What I have today is my personal hell,

Today what I have is something i cannot tell,

Today whatI carry is more than just a sack,



Today,

It is a bundle of hopes and joys,

Of love and life , of greens and dreams,

and visions of standing tall .........



today,

All of which are broken and bent ,

And draped with sighs & wound with sobs ,

fastened by tears and bundled in fears ,!



Someday ,Someday

I might just look back !!!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Arps !