Brown Hands on White Paper

The Emancipated Woman

2011-10-16T15:11:00.000-07:00

I am grateful I have a choice
I am grateful to the shoulders I stand on..
I am grateful that I don't have to be grateful..
All the time!

I choose education, I choose liberation
I choose doing exactly what I want
In exactly the way I like..
I choose flippant romances when I am bored
I turn down men, and they accept it
Without batting an eyelid..
I go out with my girlfriends in dark little by lanes
With overcrowded nightclubs
I wake up not entirely aware of what happened
The night before..
I choose this all and I seldom regret anything..

But sometimes, when I want to choose
What my instinct nudges me to choose..
A lifetime built on cooperation, perhaps compromises even
A long lasting friendship, with more of us to it
Than all of me. Of the gaps between milestones and achievements
That are not as pleasant as the medals that come at the end
Stretches of time that can be folded away
Only with a lot of patience
Of that latent strength that can only be active
When it is obviously passive
Knowing that sometimes, to win, in a true sense
You have to lose little battles and quietly dismantle your ego..
With all of these, I find myself oddly without choice..

Had I not been given the choice,
I would have probably learned to deal with it..
But the fact that I have a choice, throws me into a strange dilemma
Then sometimes, unknowingly, I wear those shiny stilettoes
And make my way to the busiest nightclub..
For an entirely new, yet sufficiently overacted iteration

It is one of those great ironies of life
When your freedom ties you down..

Retrace

2011-10-13T06:15:00.000-07:00

I have walked this path before
I can see myself here, my very first time..
How I took the wrong turn and had to walk back
And start, all over again
That stub of a tree by that curve -- I used it as a chair
And wept, thinking I will never make it
I sat by the lake and forgot where I was going
Only to be rushed by the urgency of my goal
Sometimes, in moments of utter embitterment,
I swore that I would never come back here
But by the time it all ended, my feelings of hate and love did too..
I don't know if that is good or bad, but that is how it is!

Now that I walk again, with you, I feel a bit concerned
A bit constrained to be honest, with this iteration
But it is so refreshing to know that it ends
The crunching of maple leaves under our footsteps..
I want to hug you when you want to give up
I want to tell you that I have been there
Exactly on that stub of a tree of a chair!
I can see where you could make mistakes, well..
I prefer just to see it and smile, not stop you from it
For however painful it is now, I know you will own it next time
You will be eager to walk; for the familiarity and nostalgia
You will be confident, cautious and eager to teach..
And I don't want to rob you of that beautiful Retrace.

Grumpy Grandpa

2011-09-29T12:08:00.000-07:00

My anger is getting old now
He is not as sharp as he used to be..
Sometimes, he spends too much time thinking
Whether he is really needed..
And before he crosses that shaky bridge, the waters recede..
Sometimes he knows he needs to speak up
But is unsure whether it would be welcome..
Sometimes he is renewed with a new vigour
To act against the Unfair..
But he chooses beer over another futility
He doesn't like to go out and get noticed
And he is rather grumpy about having too many visitors
He would just prefer avoiding all the provocation
Fights tire him now and Patience is getting too good at it.
He doesn't mind the calmness, he doesn't miss the restlessness..
My Anger, is certainly an old man now.

In my kitchen

2011-08-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

In my kitchen, no two coffee mugs
Would look alike..
Earthy ceramics, shiny metal and pretty polka dots
Would grace the shelves hand in hand, side by side.
Just like the people in my life.

No two plates would carry the burden of staying together
Until an exhausted late night crash makes them part
They would all come in a group that is together
Because each one of them is unique and beautiful..
Not because they have to maintain the harmony
Of subtly dictated artistic uniformity.

Between cups of chai, green tea
And awful American coffee,
And bites of tikka masala, apple pie,
Pumpkin soup and spaghetti
My kitchen would quietly celebrate
My life and its diversity.

The doorbell will ring; the oven will sing
The yellow lights shall stay on till late,
And despite the fragility of too much diversity,
In my kitchen, no one will fret over a broken plate.

Victims of Gravity

2011-03-07T02:03:00.000-08:00

The roots of the giant Banyan tree
How they turn from uncertain shoots
Unaware of any purpose or direction;
Unaware of the larger scheme, the bigger theme..
Unaware of the existence of so many others
Who began as an aimless sprout..
And turned into the old, magnificent
Grandpa of a tree..
Wise, calm and full of sympathy
For impatience, haste and the fear of uncertainty..

Or the neatly queued Pines on a cold, crunchy slope,
Hiding cones and squirrels,
Bestowing their host with added dignity..
The meandering roads through Eucalypti
Making up with fragrance for their lack of destiny..
Perms of twisted, young tendrils
Bending gracefully with a fat Pumpkin..
Unaware perhaps hence perfectly able..
Of such prolific agility..

Should we then group them all
As fortunate victims of Gravity?

Change and Exercise

2011-02-05T17:51:00.000-08:00

Change is an exercise for the mind..
The alarm keeps going off
The mind keeps snoozing it
And with every snooze it deludes itself.

I am fine the way I look now
I am only doing this because I have issues,
With my self-image.
Perhaps I should just accept that I am here.
After all, changing this will bring its own challenges.
I would have to get new clothes..
And I would have to work harder
To stay where I get after this effort.

I know it will get better, but you never know
It could get worse.
Perhaps it is safer here. I feel peaceful,
On this pillow of contentment.

The sun comes up then, and the contentment
Evaporates like the dew drops at dawn.
Change, is just fitness for the mind.

Sea Saw

2011-01-04T18:08:00.000-08:00

It is just another shore for some,
Another expanse of golden sand
Facing another volume of limitless water..
Their moments spent between the two
Have nothing to do with either the wisdom of waves
Or the patience of the sand..
For them, the ocean is an assumption.

Some know the moods of their ocean
By the dead creatures it spits on the beach..
Victims of the wrath of Poseidon perhaps..
Strewn about in beautiful, helpless designs on the sand..
They would admire the sparkling waves
For their infinity, their ability of making you insignificant..
For them, the ocean is power.

And then there are some, who are caught between
The shore and the sea, like the martyr jellyfish..
Observing the snake skins that the sunlight sheds
Between water and land; and how nothing is certain
But everything gets its say, its voice, its dance,
On the shimmering, dusky, seductive sand.
For them, the ocean is equilibrium.

Mirrors

2010-12-18T16:34:00.000-08:00

Standing between two mirrors
And looking at your own images
Mirrors within mirrors - all full of your own image
And helping your eyes find where it ends,
An exercise in futility.

Sometimes, coming back to yourself
Is like waking up from a million dreams
Waking up from a sleep, within a sleep
And tracing it all back to the real sleep
And the real reality.

They try to fence it for us, all in good faith.
Give us only one mirror, so that we don't
Drive ourselves insane.
They try to tell us to walk a path that has been
Etched on the Earth's heart - all for the sake of sanity.

But then, the image becomes reality..
With no questions asked, no answers sought..
And our image, sometimes becomes the only reality..
Where is the beauty then, of all the images?
Of you in all your forms, real and surreal
Of not believing in all of them, but of kind acceptance?

And, the understanding that if not all,
Some around me, may also have
Their own two mirrors to look into..
And the rest may choose to see..
Their image as the only reality!

Decant

2010-12-11T03:19:00.000-08:00

There is only so much you can dream
Some days just pass by making
Little paper balls out of rejected dreams..
Too optimistic, too dramatic, too sweet
Too contrived and hard to believe..

It rains outside incessantly, and your feet,
Lend their spirits to your mind..
So it keeps flashing stories at you..
Stories, that would never become reality
And even if they do, they would perhaps be not as good,
As when they were stories on a rainy afternoon.

Nostalgia is overrated too.
How you hanker for a place and the time
That made that place what it is in your mind,
On return, the place has happily moved on,
It has embraced its future confidently without you..

You throw a few more paper balls into the bin
And get back to work. Try to worry about something.
If not worry, just a space, a comma for the sake of solace,
I wonder how sometimes, cynics and dreamers
Are brought to the same place!

Paradigms

2010-11-28T02:18:00.000-08:00

We have no patience whatsoever,
To step back and look at our data points.
No! Don't come to us with those parametric equations!
We have decided that it is going to be a line.

Well, don't question our methods -
For they were written before your were conceived!
They have been tested enough, they are fine.
All these years, time after time
They have always given a line.

Why do you bother about close-to-the-axis..
And how does it matter what is higher?
We don't waste our time in reinventing it
When we know that it is called an outlier.

We know how you feel - and we sympathize
For once upon a time, we were young too.
But we learned very quick to see the line
And now, that is what you should do.

All this theory of letting it unfold on its own,
Is very romantic but if we may interject,
Try and find your own line soon, and
If you can help it, do away with the intercept!

You see, you are safe on the line
For there is only so much you can fall,
And there is more company here
High up it tends to get very lonely
And it will risk a larger fall dear!

On a line, you can easily compare
And see where everyone else has gone.
These little deltas work as gradients or medals.
Depending which side you are on.

The world just makes much more sense on a line
Life is an assembly line my friend,
So don't open that can of worms for us
With your parabolic trends.

In a fragile moment towards the end,
When your foggy eyes would want to see it clear,
You will never remember it as a fancy curve,
Life would then look strangely Linear!

Summer Tantrums

2010-10-17T15:23:00.000-07:00

Nature is so motherly sometimes,
Trying to distract me from the scorching heat,
Turning the sky maddeningly purple
By bringing the Jacarandas out of their retreat!
Or mixing in some Jasmine into the tree sweat,
As I walk uphill, under the Sun's smother,
Interrupting my sulky annoyance
By bursts of fragrances one after the other
When I try to wake up before the Sun,
To steal some breeze away from the world,
She rewards me with a different gift,
The summer song of the summer bird!
Sometimes, when nothing works
And I surrender, helplessly to his overwhelming power,
She takes pity on her baby again,
And sends me her special afternoon showers.

Bitter Sunsets

2010-09-07T03:40:00.000-07:00

I first painted her sitting by the river
With nothing but her long hair
Draping her back
The slight curve of innocent opulence,
Her narrow waist inadvertently made..
I soaked my soul in the colors I used
And my eyes moistened as my brush
Covered the canvas like an effortless dancer..
But she left, abruptly, gathering her clothes

In my resolve to forget her,
I whitewashed my canvas for my next painting
Painted a flower girl, who wilted in the summer
Then I painted a seductress over her,
I liked myself for what people began to think I was,
A lonely traveler with an eye for beauty
And I liked how I made them wonder
If I would whitewash their bodies too..

Sometimes, after a seeking sunset
When there is a lot of dust between me
And the uncertain horizon, I can see myself
Retracing her curves again, from beneath
All those layers, of color and whitewash.
Embittered and embattled, with nothing
To look forward to and nothing to go back for..

I can only confess to the sunsets,
That I should have used a new canvas..
Then, perhaps, I would have been able to know
If I really am a good painter,
Or if I can just draw her well...

In memory

2010-08-21T02:46:00.000-07:00

Which page from your ancient past
Inspires this tear grandma?

Oh, little one, these days
My eyes have lost their bastion
My mind fools me into thinking
That the tears will hide
In the folds of my wrinkled face..
And no one will know they are still made..
But my little one can see them
So I should be more careful..

Or you could just share your story,
I am not little anymore you know..

To tell you the truth little one,
It is easier to feel the tears
Than to trace them back, to the ball of wool,
That the cat got his little string from..
It is not like you, with that boy who left last summer..
Leaving you so many tear stained pillows..
And that is the only thing your little mind
Has sewn together with tears..
It is so many years, so many people
That tears are easier to remember than them..

Why do you smile now grandma?
Who inspires this smile..

To tell you the truth little one,
All of those who brought that tear before..
So many of them, that it is just easier to smile
Than name them all!

Stories

2010-08-16T18:31:00.000-07:00

Do you seek the freedom that I enjoy?

Yes, I do.
Your freedom to be a girl, a woman and a man..
At your own eccentric whim.
Your freedom to wake up and lie down in the sun..
Your freedom to have waffles for dinner
And a steak sandwich for breakfast
Your freedom to call anyone an idiot and move on..
Your freedom to be happy with your choice
And your freedom to change your mind,
When the happiness fades away.
I envy all of that.
And how about you? Are you happy?
You must find my restricted life quite silly..

On the contrary..
Sometimes I do feel
That someone should mark a square for me
And then I can be free in that boundary
Paint my little square the way I want
And enjoy the colorful security
Of having an entire square, just for me.
As long as I have a sky overhead
That has a few stars in it, not the whole galaxy.
As long as I can invite my friends to visit me..
I would be happy, knowing that there is a place
That completely belongs to me.
Being completely free is not easy.

I wonder if we could both move
A little towards each other..
A little closer, maybe just close enough
To hold hands across our boundaries..
Well, across my boundary..

No, I have a boundary too..
It is my mind and I like it a lot..
I try to control all the little things I can..
In order to have that boundary..
It doesn't work all the time
Sometimes the lines between pleasure and pain
Get frighteningly murky..
But every time you set a new boundary,
There comes a time, when you surely defy it.

Funny you say that, for I have none..
In my mind, I run free
I pack and move every hour
To a new reality, just for company..
I try and imagine what I could have done
Had I not been what I am today
And the possibilities astound me..
But every interlude comes back to
A more certain reality..
And my physical boundaries
Tease me.

But I must confess, I feel much better
Knowing that your freedom is not your slave..

And I think I am glad, that my boundaries
Are not glass-lined fences..

Just holding hands for comfort is enough
As long as we share our stories. :)

Second Hand Book

2010-07-15T02:35:00.000-07:00

I certainly don't come with
That inane innocence
Of never have been opened before
I have been through a few hands, in my time..
And it perpetually surprises me
That my time still goes on
I thought I'd feel old soon
When I was held by a pair of wrinkled hands
On an early morning, in the London tube
I looked at the others around me,
With a crisp glaze of fresh make-up
On their newly manufactured covers
They looked more attractive
Against my yellowed, dog-eared pages
Then I was sent off to the United States
Borrowed, left unread, forgotten!
Bought by students in second hand shops
And left behind in boxes, for the younger, prettier ones..
Sometimes, used as an unusual aid
To write down numbers of strangers on the train..
My story has been told
Again and again.
It has been criticized too..
A lot of trivial important men,
Have had their trivial claws sharpened
On my so-called controversial plot..
But if you want, we can pretend
To start all over again.
I am getting a bit too old for that..
But what thrills me, is that my time
Is yet, not over!

Books, Places and People

2010-05-09T00:21:00.000-07:00

Books are great roads
Great teachers
Great Planes..
That take you places..
Give your imagination..
Something to work on..
The Paris of my thoughts..
Having an imaginary croissant
With an imaginary cup of coffee.
It is all well and good.
But books turn us into books.

Places are better..
They come with a smell
And a reluctant History
That makes more books.
Places can talk too
The chaotic ones have a stronger voice.
The quite ones talk with silences.
Some have picturesque lakes
And others have picturesque filth.
But all of them write pages in our minds..

Then some ambiguous evening comes
With pictures and verses
From the book that is being written
Between your eyes..

But all of this is still not enough
The luxuries of a "spoilt" cultured kid
Or of an ambitious intrepid traveler
Or of a nonchalant, eccentric hermit..

The true void can be filled
And brimmed over
When two souls talk
And teach each other..
The honesty of an eyelid
Trying to contain a tear
Or of a back-slapping cackle..
The comfort of reaching out
And of being reached out to..
The pauses between words
And the words picked between pauses
The similarities between confident smiles
All over, across the oceans

They teach us sans the snobbishness
Sans the hefty History
And they do well because they
Don't really think they have anything to teach..

When souls teach each other,
They become kindred souls.

Gypsy

2010-04-23T11:14:00.000-07:00

This earth that I fence,
Never belonged to me..
And it will never belong to anyone
After I am gone..

But all my journeys belong to me
And many may inherit them,
If they get enamoured
By the spirit of moving on!

The smell of a new place,
The silent yearning for the old one,
And then the neat rationalization!
With each new place my mind grows up,
The horizons of fears suddenly shrink,
And a face smiles at me,
From every corner of the room!

Some people carry their homes with them
And build exact replicas far away from home..
And some become the place they are in..
When people drop their barriers to turn into a place,
The place responds too, and turns into her people! :)

And though it is hard to leave,
The Gypsies have to move on..
To be at home everywhere!

Mindstones

2010-04-04T18:17:00.000-07:00

There are some who come with maps
And then there are others,
Who dip their feet in paint.

Like a woman turning into her mother,
Impatience, over the years,
Turns into Patience.

There is always a border
And an expiry date to the way,
That people see you!

Too much helplessness
Sometimes, miraculously
Turns into Courage.

Courage is over-rated too!
Could be anything,
From a moth to a grasshopper.

How you breath depends
Solely on the jar,
You are stored in.

It is good to see
A mind smiling back gracefully,
With a few wrinkles around her eyes.

Eve

2010-04-01T16:24:00.000-07:00

We still live the story of Adam and Eve
That began with a simple,
Unambiguous Divine instruction,
Of not eating the Fruit of Knowledge.
The innocent, primeval couple left it
Faithfully unquestioned, until..
Their oblivious bliss was choked
Between the glistening coils,
Of a slithering serpent from Hell.
It spun a web of irresistible
Almost compulsive attraction around Eve
And Eve gave in.

She could not hold herself back
From the Fruit, she surrendered!
And the coiling Serpent left,
With the scars of a million Births
On her primal, unsure Womb.

I love Eve.
Even the Garden of Eden faded
In the light of her careless Blunder
And Adam was dragged with her
Into the river of abysmal Sorrow.
Not just Adam, but the entire
Human existence as well!

Although they both created it,
Adam is just the Reason of Chance,
But Eve, in all her beauty,
Is the sole, Reason and Agent of Choice..

She appeals to me, not for the Philosophy
That surrounds her.
I like her way of self-surrender.
She chose her inevitable destiny
To have the fruit
And Lust was born.

Lust is a labyrinth..
Eve may have given us
A lifetime of suffering
But she is also the one
Who opened this labyrinth for us
And showed us the beauty of
An unassuming, empirical God
That is silently superior
To the Obvious.

That is the debt humanity owes her
And can never pay her back!
She stands like a Goddess
In our circles of Lust and Sorrow
Because of her very first surrender..

(Translation of a Grace poem from Marathi)

Shuffle

2010-03-24T03:18:00.000-07:00

It is nice to have play lists, and know them well
Then every song ends in a no man's land
And the dream for that song fades with the music
The next one is ready and you know it
You know exactly where it is going to take you
Sometimes when you don't like what you have
The anticipation of the next one gives you the hope
To wait for the music to be on your side..

But then when it is all shuffled up
Like a card palace that just came down
Jazz, classical, rock and blues
with no sequence whatsoever,
Thrown at you one after the other.
There is no time to wait and plan a dream
That goes with the next song on the list
The song and the dream begin at once
It is confusing, disorganized and stressful
Although it is still, in all its beauty and honesty
The same melodious music.

Enough time and you learn somehow
To like what you get than try to get what you like
The unexpected blues on a summer morning
Or the silent meditation on a crowded bus
Then the dreams get twinkle toes
And they don't need all the pomp and planning
To start dancing as soon as the music plays..
The whole effort of constructing play lists
Suddenly seems futile!

Dilemma

2010-03-11T02:35:00.000-08:00

Everything needs to be ended
Or revived at some point..
And it happens after constant interrogation
Of the need and the arrogance
Within..

I am on my own, I can start over..
Chop off these magnificent wings
And wait until I grow them again..
Who knows, they might turn out
Stronger, softer.. bursting with color

What if they never grow back?
What if they shrivel up and die?
What if this is the only pair I ever get?
No..I think I better stay with what I have..

I am scared to use them, lest I exhaust
My supply of healthy feathers..
But what is it good for if I can't fly?
I wish I could get a ready, unambiguous answer..

Maybe I should just keep flying
With what I have until I fall down
Unconscious, by a wise, peaceful lake..
Whether it is time for death or revival..
Is what the lake decides.

Same old concept..all over again!

2010-02-13T03:46:00.000-08:00

A wandering mind; a floating cloud
Watching a dutiful river flow,
Stretching her arms towards the heavens..
But the Earth never lets her go..
The floating slows down when the cloud
Sprouts her own reluctant water feet
Comes back to fill the thirsty cracks
Where seeds and raindrops secretly meet..

An unwanted celebration once again,
Once again, the same old colors of spring..
Lamenting the return to life
From almost knowing what the heavens sing..
I have seen this all before, over and over
The raindrops with rainbows, and the butterflies
I am so old, yet young all over again
Unheard, unseen by the heaven's eyes..
It is good to be pulled back, I know
To have a ground on a moonless night
But maybe this love of Earth and hearth
Is obsolete beyond that final flight!
Maybe someday I will join,
A gang of darker chimney clouds,
And slip away before mother calls back
Unseen by the noisy crowd..
And then there would be no need
Of a label, a name or even a verse,
For I won't be cloud anymore
I would be the Universe.

Rain Talking to Me

2010-02-06T17:32:00.000-08:00

How have you been?
I know it was hot
And I know I am late..
But then this delay is
Worth the look in your eyes..
Your constant peeping out of the window
And melting your gaze
In every pregnant cloud..
I like it all..I do!
That's why I am always late..
I know how I make you feel
You get all your poetry out, don't you?
I make you forget
All the boring realities of your life
Or at least I make them better
When you walk to work
Under an umbrella!
I know I make you a little sad
When I come down at sundown
You don't like to obscure your sunsets
And mix them with uncertain nights..
But when you sit in a corner and weep
And add a few warm ones to mine
The beauty of that sorrow
Makes my short-lived existence worthwhile..
Then when you go to bed,
I turn into a drummer and
Keep you company in your dreams..
I know you want to see me when
You open your eyes,
So I try to stay
Fighting the persistent Sun Rays..
And the smile in your eyes
When you open the window for me
Makes up for the tears
That I brought the night before!
It is funny how you call it my moods!
How you don't like me or like me
At different times..
But just for the sake of conversation,
Are those moods really mine? :)
Stop explaining why you like me
And how you like me for reasons
That are strictly related to the weather
You can tell them all
That you like me, because
We have this thing going on
Between the two of us.
And even if you don't say it..
Everyone knows it by now!

Being Happy

2010-01-28T14:57:00.000-08:00

I am happy because I AM.
Not because I have,
what others don't have.
Or because I could have
What others don't,
Before they could have it.
Not happy because I can shield
What I already have
From the eyes of the jealous world.
Not relatively happier than others!

Happiness is not the absence of fear.
It is the feeling you get
When you put fear, anger, jealousy
Constant longing along with avarice
All your have-nots, and could-haves
In a big cardboard box and send it off
To Timbuktu. :)
The chilled beer after all that hard work
Is Happiness.

Happiness is merely to be.
And it is very very easy. :)

Verse Yoga!

2010-01-24T20:45:00.000-08:00

Some days it is easier
To speak in a verse
Concentrate thoughts
Into something terse
Chisel words, phrases
To match the urge
Make sonnets, couplets
Or a melancholy dirge!

At such times memories
Seem like an ugly weight
From an overfed mind
And it is always too late
To change mind's ways
So it is worth the wait
The verse exercise
To add agility and grace
And improve mind's gait
In streams of rhyming words.

Let it learn again
To stand on its toes
To bring its knees
Up to its nose
To twist and turn
Let it burn
Some energy
My little mind
Needs some sharpening
So, this verse exercise. :)

Jetlagged

2010-01-19T05:31:00.000-08:00

One of those rare nights
When Body becomes Mind
And flatly refuses to unwind
Unwilling to leave behind
The habits of another time.

Resolution

2009-12-30T23:16:00.000-08:00

Dreams that take off
Without the leash of fear
Without little hiccups of reason
Without the pillows of feigned detachment
Without the reserves of mental strength
Built for stillborns that are yet to be conceived

Like a dancer dancing
Not for her audience
Like the sound of a flute
In an open field
Like a brilliant bird
Against a brilliant Sun

Without any cushions of
Careful damage control
Without prayer, without pledge
Like a little boy flying his kite
In a crowded colorful sky

This year, and for each one
That comes later,
My dreams are going to be
Fearless men on horses
Without any armour.

Cleaning up

2009-12-02T22:06:00.001-08:00

Cleaning up always starts with a mess
So many silent defeats to bear
Before the soul shrugs off mind
Clinging to her knees!
And that moment is not propelling
It reverts back sometimes
Too hot a day or a sudden urge
To call a friend who is far away :)
But when the nagging from the inside
Overpowers temptation
It all starts over again.
Folding, washing, putting away
Pairing lonely socks after days
Of wearing mismatched couples
Under an unsuspecting pair of pants
Putting books in boxes
(After losing yourself in each one of them
For a time too long to make up for)
It is always a balance between
Distractions and Duties
Impulses and Plans
Dreams and Reality

Cleaning up is never easy
A house or a mind, it is equally difficult!

Action and reaction

2009-10-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

What i do is not who I am
For then I could be
All the triumphs and failures
In their pride and humility

What i do changes shadows
As the Sun makes His round
So it could seem like a tall black cloud
But it will vanish by sundown

What i do, is not always a clay pot
But sometimes it is done like a River
Where rivulets of Time, Place and Change
Give it an uncertain Forever

What i do, is not always liked
Not even by the hands that make it
But then even Action has a breath of her own
And I cannot forsake it!

i will do a lot of things
For as long as I can be
But I promise to give up all the applause
As long as what i do is not Me.

Lab Poetry

2009-10-01T17:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes thoughts vaporize
As words under the gentle
And sometimes not so gentle
Heating of anxiety.

But sometimes,
They need to be burnt.
With silence.

Both lead to the same end.
Something that cannot be burnt
Or vaporized!

Song of Men (and Women)

2009-09-06T17:25:00.000-07:00

He says He likes the one
Who does not grieve
Who treats Sadness and Joy alike
Undisturbed by Anger, Jealousy
And Envy alike.

But then what about
The beauty of Sorrow?
Those tired eyes after
A long torrent of tears?
Sitting by the window
With a cup of hot tea
And realizing that a
Few years down the line
This would not hurt as much
As it does now.

And what about all the Revolutions,
That Anger triggers inside?
Changes the entire face
Of even an insignificant existence?
And what about all his feathers?
Of Shame, Pride and Longing
They are heavy to carry around
But magnificent when he opens them all
On the day it rains Humiliation!

Who would then fall in Love
With all their heart and be turned down
Just to turn it into a poem?
Who would write with their tears?
Who would read with a sigh?

These circles of Sorrow
Of being reborn again and again
All in one life, have their own little Book.
That is being written and said in parts
And not written and unsaid in others
Forgotten, suppressed, abused, exploited
Debated across boundaries of Cultures
This is the Song of Men (and Women).

Soul Window

2009-08-13T07:31:00.000-07:00

The torrent has passed

And I am calm, lying on my bed

Watching the window with half-open blinds

From where the sun sends

His noble fingers inside

In slanting rays

Full of otherwise invisible dust

My soul perched on top of the blind

Free from the shackles of a nagging mind

Innocently wrapped in the morning light!

I pinch my calm to see if I let go

Maybe this is some placebo

Of all the efforts, so well-prepared

Talking to me on their deathbed?

I wanted this for a long time

This calm, this utterly empty mind

All of a sudden these morning rays

Fill my eyes with an empty gaze

I will see this window everyday

And I can even see it at the same time

God knows how many more will open!

But this window, the way it is today

Can only be once in my lifetime.

Just like the place you cannot go to

All the time, so you take it with you

Everywhere.

There is only one window

That opens into your soul.

And then what is left

Is a lifetime of the same memory. :)

Freedom

2009-07-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

How will it happen?
Would the last breath
Just leave gracefully
Gathering all her robes
And looking around
One last time
At the place that she
Went in and out for
All these years?

The beautiful body
That wore silver anklets
And a velvet blouse
That shivered in the
Dew-kissed cold
Of a sun-kissed town
The hands that wrote
Cooked and cared
The fingers that played
The violin and turned
Pages of poetry books
The slim waistline
Going broader at times
And slimmer again
Long hair bejeweled
With gardenia
So many sighs passed that chest
So many tears passed those eyes
The little breaths
that choked mid-sentence
And gave in, into a
Speechless teary silence
The blushing in love
And flushing in anger
Years of reading
For the poor tired eyes
Ghost stories told
Yet so many ghosts untold
Lurk around in this moment
Let them out.

They are all to be left
For the ones behind
To be given labels
Because the fight goes on
For all the others.
You are Free.

Is it an experience?
How many have you had
When that breath was still within?
The first kiss.
The first slap
Across your face.
The first few rupees
That you earned on your own.
The first humiliation.
And the first redemption.
Birth. Now this.

The beauty is that it
Cannot be told.
It cannot be written down.
Maybe, not even remembered.
As I analyze yours
I look forward to mine.

Journey of Emptiness

2009-07-14T03:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we have empty heads

And sometimes empty bellies instead

So much culture and so much art

To fill the insatiable empty heart!

It takes turns too, little bastard!

For when I try and fill up my head

I find it racing into my heart

And hunger strikes, when it races ahead!

In the fleeting moments of satisfaction

When I lie around, a little overfed

All these thoughts of overeating

Make it go back into my head!

It has to be somewhere at all times

Like a counter weight(lessness)

Takes a while before you know

All the moods of Emptiness

When you make it happen

It is meditation, Depression,

When it comes on its own

Lack of solitude when surrounded

And a silent yearning when alone!

A married man's mistress

And a bachelor's wife!

It is all that is not

a part of your life. :)

Today

2009-07-05T23:22:00.000-07:00

What we thought

Would be Tomorrow

Yesterday,

Is Today.

It does not have

The frigid Gloom

Neither the fresh

Flowers in bloom

It does not personify

The idle reveries

Of the tired Yesterday

Nor does it make

The nightmares

Come true.

Just a little man

Walking his ego-less way

Until I go to bed

It is still Today.

Pruning the Dreams a bit

Filing the sharp Nightmares

The Todays turn into Tomorrows

And then long-forgotten Yesterdays.

But the sheer beauty of the Mind

That calmly toils away

And without fear or hope

It always wakes up to a Today!

Faith

2009-06-25T03:47:00.000-07:00

Green and Orange is Brown

Earthy Brown.

But one hundred Green

And one hundred Orange

Rarely ever makes

Two hundred Brown.

Putting White in between

Would not dilute the Green

Or the Orange either.

In the end it would be

The Orange sunlight of the dusk

Gently embracing the Greenery

By the tired Brown River.

So much for colours

And so little or absolute nothing

For the colourless Creator.

Humble Arrogance

2009-06-15T04:58:00.000-07:00

I am not worried

That I do not belong

Or there is no shouting mob

That embraces my anger

I am not worried

That I do not feel

Like a stranger among

Strangers who are all together

I think rivers are beautiful

But I am not worried

About the cows that drink by them

Or the million white heads

Touching the ground

In an orchestrated unison

I am not worried at all

Of going to a place

That I think is made

For people like me

Because there isn't!

I am more important

Than all of that

All the belonging

And letting go..

And I am ready to leave

Leave it all behind..

For no God is bigger

Than the peace of My mind.

Joy Dynamics

2009-05-08T18:08:00.000-07:00

The mysteries of converging dimensions

Of the same Happiness

From a little walk in the park

Sans the pram and daddy's finger

Moving on to a tricycle

A doll complete with a house

With clothes and shoes to match

A bicycle, dresses, shoes,ribbons

Books,books,books,

Expensive books.

Then the all encompassing age of Clothes

Of shoes, handbags and cellphones

Scooters and cars,

Computers and laptops

Then the ever widening horizons

Of replacing things with people

Planned dreams, planned friendships

Planned destinies.

And then escapes..

Happy escapes, musical escapes

Literary escapes, culinary escapes

A very good blender at times

Or a carefully earned chocolate

After a long session of Yoga

China roses in the garden

And then the same walk in the park

Sans dreams and sans shoes!

The

Mysteries of the

Streamline and converging

Definitions of the same

Old Simple

Joy.

Waiting

2009-04-21T23:08:00.000-07:00

I wait
On a dusty platform
For an indefinitely delayed train
Amusing myself with
The eternal frenzy of little tea boys
With their aluminum kettles
And serrated glass cups
The newspaper stands
That sell gossip magazines
And that unnerving group of people
Sitting on the platform
With their three course meals in metal tiffins

Sometimes I humor myself
With day dreams of getting on the train
The winding greenery it would unfold
The hot meals and innumerable hot teas
That I would have on my way
To where I want to go..
Or sometimes I read a book
But it is not the same
Because I am waiting..
For an unfairly delayed train

So unjust it is and so frequent too
That I have to wait indefinitely
For the things I want to do
It is not just trains..
I think it is my life too
That leaves these big pregnant corridors
Between what I want badly
And so little that I can do
To get it when I want it

If I could I would fly
But I cannot do it now
I could get angry and barge into
The office of the complacent station master
Who is probably beyond delays and even abuses
I could have tea, but I won't enjoy it
Because this wait is unfair and incredibly painful
I could sit there and cry silently
And replay the usual sequence of waits
That I had to go through since childhood
At least I would get this train..
But what about the other things in Life?
Those corridors that lead to something else
Than what I want to see when they end?
What about them?

Then all of a sudden a little kid
With tattered clothes and a runny nose
Comes around with a harmonium
He sings a horribly discordant love song
Going beyond his years and his vocal cords
But his big black innocent eyes
Are full of some unknown joy
The joy of being able to make money
Out of someone else's painful wait
Or just the joy of being able to sing
Freely and fully, an uninhibited love song
That turns into the biggest comedy
Just because it is sung without the fear
Of consequences.

A ten rupee note into his hands.
For making Waiting worthwhile.

Over-brewed Lament

2009-04-16T02:05:00.000-07:00

I still remember the day

When my words plunged you

Into a momentary,still darkness..

I know it was momentary

Because I am no bigger

Than a moment..or even less..

I remember how you lowered

Your big innocent eyes in sadness

And then a single, lonely tear

Rolled down your shiny cheek

It was not your fault, it was mine

And that tear should have rolled

On my selfish, inconsiderate cheek.

I could not make you smile

So I removed you from my life..

I threw away the letters

I stopped visiting places

That would make me run into you

When you tried to reach me

I put myself into boxes within boxes

Of cold, distant vacuum.

One day you stopped reaching out

You found your wings, God bless them

And you had your share of eager boys

Fell down a few more times

And realized that it goes in circles..

Love and tears alike.

No one then was like I was once

In your pellucid, innocent eyes

And then one day we happened to meet

In a fruit market in the middle of nowhere

You were haggling for a dozen apples

And I was holding my wife's purse

I knew in an instant that it was you

With your skin, your eyes and your light

You turned around and your glance

Stayed over my face for a split second

In that moment I was hoping

You would freeze from a renewed grief

And the same lonely tear would graze

Your cheek, now in full blossom.

But you walked past calling out

To the new man in your life..

And the whole market seemed to pause

When he held out his hand for you..

Had you not noticed me at all?

Had you forgotten everything?

I still remember going into great details

To keep all your letters unopened

So that I don't have to reply..

And the ever so recent conversation

With my best friend about how

What I did to you was only because

It was good for you..

And for all that effort

I do not even get a single tear?

...

Easy Worship

2009-04-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

A string of blood red hibiscus
Twenty one together
For Hope and Love
And Prosperity
Most of all Virtue
Sometimes Shelter
From ailments of the body
And mind.
For Knowledge
To get ahead of everyone
Without being ambitious
And for Humility too
Almost at the same time as Ambition!
To get over the Past
To beg for the Future
Vehemently so for Happiness
Of all kinds
For Health and Wealth
For Sons that would beget more
And for a long successful Lineage
Transcending Death
And if all of this happens on time
Then also a bit of Luxury
Money spilling over
And a Castle for the eight hours of rest
That is much needed after twelve spent on the castle. :)
And then a long Life
That is free of disease of any kind.
No wonder Your face is eclipsed
With a million strings like that.

But when I have none to offer
I sit in front of You
And try to be thoughtless.
Then I think of thoughtlessness
And realize how ironical that is
And persevere.
I never get there. But I try.
Sometimes out of sheer exhaustion
Or Your overwhelming presence
It happens for a moment.
In that moment I offer You
My single flower, formless, colorless,
tasteless, devoid of fragrance!
The flower of thoughtlessness
That is so hard to pluck!

The Chemistry of Love

2009-03-13T23:30:00.000-07:00

Love exists in allotropic forms.
Happiness could be the purest..
Or let us say most benign?
She is also Fear sometimes
Hiding her hairy moustache
With her transient tears.
In absence of patience or sometimes acceptance
She turns into the serpent
Of a constant,insatiable Anger
Or most of the times
Between wives and sisters
Crystallizes into a putrid substance
Called Jealousy.
She can turn into tyrannical authority
Without any warning
And sometimes extreme disappointment
So much so that every day
Seems like a big burden
There are nicer forms too
Like the one where eyes well up
With hysterical laughter
And all the other allotropes dissolve
Into a warm bubbling concoction
That suddenly makes everything
Seem happily possible
And makes you smile. Involuntarily.
I think that form is Friendship.

Breath

2009-03-04T04:09:00.000-08:00

Poor impalpable breath!
Always gets overshadowed
By the opinionated mind.
But keeps his master's house
Clean, by going everywhere
With a bit of fresh air!

He puts his fleshy hands
On his master's shoulders
Only when really needed
When the nagging mind is left
Insufficient and exhausted
He comes out as a sigh!

Or when running up the hill
When the persistent bespectacled bookworm
Is muffled by the throbbing heart
He provides rhythm to the tired master
And prays him to go on.

Sometimes between sobs
Sometimes between laughter
Sometimes singing from a clogged nostril
With the change to an early winter

And in desperate moments of confusion
When the conscious wants to unwind
A deep breath in salvages sanity
From the tortures of the restless mind!

Grace and Gravity

2009-02-05T02:38:00.000-08:00

Is Grace the reaction to Gravity?

It could be in the world of

Trees, Birds and Dancers.

Or even in the world of the freckled pebble

Thrown by a turbid mind

Into the calm lake that makes

Hypnotic, beautiful ripples.

A little red dot skiing on a snowy slope

Or a tap dancer trying to make her point

In the gypsy drummer's argument

A butterfly flaunting her weightlessness

And an elephant showing off his gait

To an awestruck angry dog on the street.

And even in the dimensionless world

Inside the black and blonde heads

Flippant thoughts trying to settle

Sometimes eluded at others deluded

Being pulled towards the core

But trying to defy it, in their own adamant way.

And when they eventually gather

Over a day or a lifetime of fight

They turn into graceful dancers

Who know when to leap

And when to give in ..

And gracefully fold on stage!

Sea Meditation

2009-01-19T15:26:00.000-08:00

Turquoise blue on golden sand..

Each seems to push ahead

Just a little here and a little there though

They are all like the ones in my head

But sometimes when the wind is right

And when I get little mirrors for eyes

Sitting on top of the Yogi rocks

The sea inside looks at the sea outside

One wave at a time,

And one thought in my mind

Fifty,ninety till I lose the count

And also everything that I left behind..

Fresh air, bright sunshine

And my breath gives me a high tide

Then there is no sea behind my eyes

The sea outside becomes the sea inside!

Empirical Worship

2008-12-22T21:01:00.000-08:00

I try to reach You in my way

Sometimes like a scientist,

By resolving Anger and Fear

Into their primary colors

And then getting tired, angry and scared

Just to doze off in Your arms.

Sometimes like a poet,

Loving just to know How it feels..to love.

Sometimes honestly alone

And sometimes honestly sad

Sometimes finding happiness

in watching a line of ants walking by my bedside.

You are in the recipes I invent

In my own kitchen, just to realize later,

That I discovered something written ages ago

But then, the joy of finding You

Overpowers all the labels.

And in the free moments of my fearless solitude

As my eyes see a colorful kite

Playing hide and seek with the sun rays

I drop all my hopes in joy

And I call You my freedom.

I know by now that it is not easy

That all mothers are not free

The difference between hopelessness

In joy and sadness alike,

And the boundaries of liberty

I am grateful for that place

Between my heart and my mind

Where sometimes You come to visit me.

Gardening

2008-12-15T06:55:00.001-08:00

Answers to a lot of everyday puzzles
grow in the vegetable patch in the backyard..
I used to wonder why people like gardening
Now I know.

Juicy tomatoes help forget
The dry and pointless discussions at work
Hot chili sometimes soothes
The chilly winds between two people
What you sow comes out faithfully
And usually grows in direct proportion
With the care taken.

A fully grown garden
With mango and gardenia trees
Invites yoga mats and garden salads
And so much companionship!
Probably because trees don't talk
And don't have opinions
People converse in silences
In the gardens that they make

Gardens never break
Never fight and never let you down
Maybe that is why everyone travels inwards
Sometime sooner or later
Into the Gardens.

Journey

2008-11-09T22:27:00.000-08:00

I like being suspended between lands

Just for a while when I travel

You are on a plane, all packed

And dressed in your casual best.

The frenzy of leaving done with

And the haste of arriving still far away

On a cloud, sipping your wine

Picking fruit from the little fruit box

Presented to you with a professional alacrity

Going back after a long time

With your immediate future taken care of

Flights,hotels and train tickets all arranged

But the far away future is like scrambled eggs

No room for ten-years-later

Questions after questions and lots of them

To be answered (or dodged) starting from Mumbai airport. :)

At such times, poor mind seeks solace

In this little comma in the air

That is going to keep you away,

At least for a few hours..

From all the panic of arranging full-stops for you!

Thank Heavens for Journeys.

Desert Sand

2008-08-28T17:08:00.000-07:00

Wavy hair against the wind

A Little palm pressed in her father's hand

She learnt to take her baby steps

In the shifting Earth of the Desert Sand

The clouds made shapes in her Happy Sky

And the Rainbows stretched in her wing span

But all her dolls and doll houses

Were always made of the Desert Sand!

The years began to show some Colors

As the Moon gave her a pair of tides

Her solitudes letting her get away

To see all her unseen sides

By the Oasis in the hesitant Rains

Her sculpted breasts and her easing waist

Were made of evasive Desert Grains

All her lovers faded into the Night

Slipped away from her porcelain hands

Her face was always full of Flowers

Flowers made of the Desert Sand!

So many mirages to chase!

And not one that quenches thirst

Solitude meeting Solitude again

In the shifting storms of the wise Desert!

She realizes that behind her curves,

Behind her beauty and her grace,

Of a Golden Deer in a Camel's Land

Lies the wisdom of a tired man

Who's bones are made of Desert Sand!

Although she is known to many

A Woman desired by every Man

She will return to what she blossomed from

The calm expanse of the Desert Sand!

Dots

2008-07-25T06:12:00.000-07:00

Raindrops on a Lotus Leaf

And my silly mind

I can look for a better contrast

But I know I will never find..

When I was a little girl

I closed my eyes in bed

And waited patiently for sleep

But saw these dots instead

Red and Blue dots

Coming towards my nose

And I followed them all the way

Squinting on the rows

But now when I am in bed

And eager to follow those dots

They get brutally conquered

By my peripatetic thoughts

Then I stand aside

And try to direct my thoughts

Full of purpose and pride

Of standing out of the lot

Alas! I must confess

Even that is a mind-game

But I don't know what part of my mind

Finally calls it lame

Feelings are bad enough

Thoughts are even worse

And a million words to describe them

To make a pointless verse..

Language is such a burden sometimes

Too pretentious for the unsought

After all it all begins

And ends in a little dot!

You

2008-06-08T03:18:00.000-07:00

All the excess goes to You

Too much Joy and I can't share

The stifled tears

And the silent Despair

They are all Yours to be heard

And also all that remains unheard

The giggling rivers of unexpected Happiness

And the silent Moonlight of Melancholy

The Des with the morning rays

And the sad soulful Puriya

That is never sung for the hundred ears

That surround me.

And You never complain!

Even though You are all alone

And I am sometimes out of tune

Never skeptical of my easy Happiness

Or weary of my transient Tears

You give me fluffy clouds

And a clear blue sky

When I come to You with a cloudy mind

And when I grow wings

You gently pull the Earth upwards

So that it touches the soles of my feet!

I am grateful

And I will always be

In Laughter and Pain alike

For this compassionate Eternity!

Free

2008-04-30T04:14:00.000-07:00

I am just flowing now
They seem to call me the River
And when the high mountains call
They will call me a Waterfall
In humble slums where mosquitoes huddle
They will clamp their noses and I will be a Puddle
Where am I going and what will I be?
Maybe the Rainfall or the Sea.

In any case I am not worried at all
Even when I am a Waterfall
The pleasures of being able to know
That you can even just let go
Or being heated and vaporized aloud
To turn into a thick dark cloud

I resign..I resign !!
I am happy with my peaceful mind
That helps me leave the happiness behind
I don't turn around to look
Failure is just a word in a book
Content with the place I choose
I never win and I never lose..
Free from the dales of unwanted sorrow
Free from Yesterday and Free from Tomorrow!

Homesick

2008-04-03T21:32:00.000-07:00

I hear the Markets at 2 AM
Selling little eggplants with thorns
The half-moon slice of papaya with lemon
Half a glass of thickened tea
Long-lost cousins popping up
Telling me about their marriages and babies
Piping hot sheera with a scent of banana
With the morning dew on flowers

It is funny how my mind frees itself
And goes to India at night
Without a ticket, a passport even
And comes back by the morning light
When I wake up, it takes me a while
To know where I am
And early mornings are filled with sheer amusement
Of my mind's incredible wingspan!

The days are not too bad
Realistic,logical and scientific
Where I rationalize unreasonable events
And make peace with delays and mistakes
Returning to silent evenings
And cooking a Meal.

But I do look forward to bedtimes
When I can take my mind off her leash
And let her wander into the streets
Of my childhood
And tell me stories from home
When I am fast asleep !!

Chemistry ;)

2008-03-16T00:04:00.001-07:00

You and Me
Is just Chemistry
And love is a chemical too
So eat some bread for your seratonin
Next time you feel a little blue
When you think you have thought
A little too much
And you are looking for a place to flee
Try out an easier solution first
A fresh cup of tea!
What is future after all!
All that you want to do
Let it linger at the back of your mind
That dreams are molecules too!
Leftover opinions from the residues of past
The broken heart refuses to leave behind
When you give it a little Buddha thought
The Past and the Future are just in your mind!
You can sit back and sip coffee
Till the time memories and fears lurk
Beneath the shadows of your tired mind
You will know that opinions are just hard work!
And who are you after all?
A sub-atomic particle in this Universe
Oblivious and eager to change
But controlled securely by a nucleus :)

PS: This was supposed to be posted here, but I did it by mistake on PurpleMoon and now I am really bored to delete that one. :D

Time Tables

2008-03-05T05:01:00.000-08:00

I never carry a copy of the train time-table
I always go and wait on the station
Until the next one comes
Because I know it will in some time
It does not matter how long
I don't plan the ten minutes around it
I just wait.

And as I do sometimes
I meet an old woman
With a silver brooch on her dress
Who went to India in the early sixties
Or a woman whose Golden Retriever
Just gave birth to a litter
I see oddly adult school girls
Experimenting with makeup
And stiff men in shirt sleeves
Going to the city for work
Sometimes on a bench in the corner
Sleeps a wasted man, oblivious
To the frenzy of the sober world
And for a split second I envy him
For his dauntless abandon

Sometimes I can see my train
Going without me in front of my eyes
Because I am one minute too late
But then I just tell myself
That I am fourteen minutes too early
For the next one

I love the person inside me
Who does not care a crap
About train time-tables!

The Blue Umbrella

2008-02-25T22:54:00.000-08:00

The rain provokes Umbrellas
Purple, Pink and Mauve
Sometimes over some eccentric head
With bunny ears and painted whiskers!
Some of them are like little posh women
Folding into a non entity
And fitting snugly into a tiny handbag
They also make them for snobs
Pitch black with a curved handle
Large enough to fit five
But allowing only one aquiline nose
While the others shiver in soggy pants
Some of them are unpretentious
Openly advertising a grocery shop
While the bushy head underneath
Enjoys it's free dry space with a disarming smile
A little theater with Polka dots
And a big window with see through sheets
That lets you see the happy rain
Come down in silver lines
And how they end up flirting with wind
Turning inside out in the middle of the road
And dragging the frail bodies under them
Into a desperate rain-soaked frenzy
Some times in a busy mall
Sheltering two heads under one of them
Two halves holding dry hands
And the rest left at the mercy of the Rain
Sometimes when you have none
And you are two heads shorter than everyone
Walking under all of them
To reach the end of a busy street!
Little replicas of the prettiest of all
The Big Blue Umbrella
With Rainbows and clouds
And a million shimmering stars
That never goes out of fashion!

The Seven Twelve

2008-02-13T21:42:00.000-08:00

All that idle thought
About what is yet to be
And what might not
The struggles to set me free
Of the fears yet unsought
And even later will be
A confirmed useless lot

Vanishes with the seven twelve
That takes me to the city
As I sit by the window and dwell
Over a pack of spaghetti
And whether I have enough tomatoes
To make a perfect sauce
All my borrowed woes
And the little cosmetic loss
Dissolve in caustic and brine
In a chaos, never to be recovered
And I am just as fine
All packed with a lunch and showered
Waiting again, for the seven twelve
That completes the circle
Of my worry-less quantum of Life!

The Unexpected Two Dollar Coin

2008-01-21T02:38:00.000-08:00

Getting into a skirt after a long long time
As I pose, I suddenly find
Snugly asleep in the right hand pocket
A dull, golden two dollar coin!
I can feel it before I see it
Small, heavy with a sluggish pace
Unlike the ugly fifty cents
That seem to roll all over the place!

And as they pull it out of there
My fingers fade away into a dream
Of pairing it with another of it's kind
For an Afogato with two scoops of ice cream
Or maybe use three fourths of it
To buy a Koala postage stamp
And send home a letter full of pointless babble
With a clever card for my grand mom!
Spend it in the pharmacy
To remove the blackheads off my face
Or drop it with a melodious tinkle
In the mall singer's guitar case
A fancy pencil that goes swoosh-swoosh
Between the lines of my lab book
A dollar for the waiter in the Indian restaurant
And another for the cook

But then I think I would be nicer
If I just close my eyes
And save the fat chubby two dollar coin
For another Happy Surprise. :)

Happy Tomorrow

2007-12-29T02:16:00.000-08:00

I think I will be Happy tomorrow
When the day gets short and cold
When I reach my desk with a tingling nose
Draped in wool and gold

I know I will be Happy
The day the Sun loans
Some of His aimless morning rays
To shine on my collar bones

I know Happiness is there
Just about a station away
And then I will be as merry and free
As the guitar-man on the Subway

I know I will be Happy tomorrow
Even as the morning I wake up to today
Sounds as sweet as the notes
That make up a perfect day

Even as the little white ones turn to gray
And leave a rain-kissed lawn
For me to get out of my shoes
And walk barefoot on
Even with the oven that announces
The birth of blueberry muffins
Or the empty moments of Nowhereness
That this generous day brings
In spite of everything right now
That seems to make me smile
I would love to postpone my Happiness
Just for a little while

For I know that the precious Tomorrow
Will bring the silver lines
That the gray ones that showered today
In their haste, left behind
I can't be dishonest, I know
I do feel a little bright
But I know that I can be Happier
On the other side of this night

For all the complex definitions
That my Yesterdays seem to teach
The Joy that is due Tomorrow
Seems oddly out of reach!

But beyond this idle boredom
And reveries that I seem to borrow
I know there waits for me
A Happy Happy Tomorrow.

A Bankrupt Poet

2007-12-13T13:03:00.000-08:00

Seven words for a Rainbow
And Five for the Universe
But so deserted in his Woe
A poet and his Bankrupt Verse

One too many for his Love
And how they cease to be
In his calm,silent Resolve
Or a sincere Apology

They have long assuaged his Anguish
And sedated his Restless Mind
Now it is sleepless hurt and languish
For they all are left behind

The space between the words
Turns to words between the space
And the Silences unheard
His empty poems face!

Freedom?

2007-12-01T03:32:00.000-08:00

Freedom is not Free,
It isn't free
It seems tied up
and comes with a price
It overhangs
and it nags

Sometimes it runs down
in streams on your face
As you try to fight the wind
On a roaring bike
It peeks through the paw marks
That the innocent puppy leaves
On a painfully vacuumed carpet
Just before the guests arrive
Or across the bridge that
Goes over the restless waves
And bypasses the uncertain tides
Going into a Free Sun
Free of the silk-draped Night
It can come down as Snowflakes
and Raindrops '
Or as a piece of unwrapped chocolate
After an honest workout

I wear it with pride
And forget to turn around
In some evil black magic moment
Freedom ties me down

Then the evident mirth over being Alone
And so blissfully Free
And my breath as I say the word
Turns into a Mockery.

Literature Review

2007-11-25T02:35:00.000-08:00

I know now of the Happiness
In knowing what Keats
Thought about Cats
Or what Robert Frost
Thought of Love and Thought

Now it is just one of those
Papers that talk of Cellulose
And the Chinese with their frenzied eyes
Producing research like plastic toys
I hate to admit but it could be true
That I care more about some Dr.Hu
Who's recent work seems to challenge
Everything known about Climate Change

The poet is now half forgotten
Like Ether left in an uncovered Flask
My words expressing stranger's thoughts
And a little grumpy about the Task.

Harmony

2007-11-11T06:06:00.000-08:00

Little Joys have nimble limbs
Twinkle toes and tipsy moves

Like the uninvited sprinkle showers
That refuse to drench and choke
And play hide and seek
With your elderly black umbrella

..Or the big white cat sitting on the pavement
Licking her grass-kissed, overfed, pink paws
With her tuna fish tongue
Looking smugly at your futile frenzy
With her emerald green inertial eyes!

Unexpected blooms of Gardenia
Along an everyday,presumed sidewalk
Fragrant flowers popping out of rain kissed leaves
That make you slow down and sometimes..
Even pluck a few under the ambush of the starry night

Anonymous chocolates on your desk
And inexpensive cups of Chai Latte
Good music in your mailbox
Custom-played to inspire you!
Honest attempts at playing bad guitar
And looking for places full of solitude to practice
To save your few,close friendships.

And then a little trouble, a little pain
To get it all
In perfect Harmony!

My Favorite Song

2007-11-04T03:45:00.000-08:00

It comes back
Like lavender in old linen
Or like the hint of vanilla
That speaks of mum's cream-smeared
Butter-soaked,soft, tiny hands

I sang the same tune when I was sixteen
With half drunk dreamy eyes
I sing it again today
As I begin to summarize

Everything that changed unknowingly
Between the mathematically accurate beats
As I grew up between the frozen notes
The same verse and the same lines

It keeps me company as I toss a Salad
I half-listen to it as I run
A part of my mind's ear
Over-played yet unsung

I forget it for a while
Between papers, books and Coffee Shops
Then we suddenly meet at a corner
Like a whiff of freshly baked muffins

I see how my Life has changed since
The last time I sang along
For Better or for Worse, I would never Part
With the Return of my Favorite Song!

Starry Sky

2007-10-23T04:58:00.000-07:00

I walk across a hundred fears
And I think of You
On the Evening full of Despair
I gently sing to You
From the giggling brooks that beckon
And the Orange Earth that heaves
We are born in the musky roots
And fall off as Autumn leaves
One of Your tender whispers
And everything missing is found
As I fight Reality and Illusions
You gently put your arm around
The hymns sing of sins and pleasures
A million sorrows die
Then at the end of the Bridge waits a Promise
Of Your endless Starry Sky!

PS: Please do not interpret this as a love poem. It is my version and my effort of translating one of my favorite Grace poems from Marathi.
PPS: Please do not compare the original with this one if you actually figure out what the original version is because obviously they are no match. I wrote this because I have been thinking about the poem for a very long time. :)

Footprints

2007-10-20T17:48:00.000-07:00

As a little girl I walked on the seashore
And turned around to see
My footprints on the wave-washed sand
And wondered how I would want them to be!

My feet grew long,round and pretty
And the ocean got smaller
Within the folds of my memory
And I measured my prints in Cold Despair
In Friendships, in Love and in Victory

A little Joy and then a little Sorrow
To check Euphoria with Anguish
A host of seashells to make a pretty anklet
And sometimes just a dead jellyfish

I made scores and I kept accounts
Of the Good, the Bad and the Surreal
Making my own mark on the sultry sea sand
Struggling with the Common and the Ideal

Now all the footprints are washed away
Into the waters where the Dolphins dive
But books that I kept as a curious child
Have blossomed into my Life

Dear Notebook

2007-10-09T18:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Notebook forgive me,
For I confuse you with eccentricity
And bring you half way through your pages
To where Chemistry meets Poetry

If they open you legally
Like they should in a world full of Rules
You would enthral them by Logic and Statistics
And thoughts from various schools
All neatly organized and highlighted
For the ease of a probable Return
And paper markers with question marks
Where there is still a lot more to learn

For those who don’t follow rules
And flip through the other way round
You reveal a mess of merry thoughts
That float without a ground
Between the lines, inclined to the right
Self-obsessed and unkind
Like the clouds that turn into pictures
Or wavy hair against the wind
Adamant verses that refuse to grow up
Or a Happy Thought broken
By the persistent cell phone ring
Words, recycled and forgotten

I never let you finish
Straight from Left to Right
Your salvation is somewhere in between
Schizophrenic and full of the Night

But would it make a difference
If I confess that you are the reason
For all the Joy and Peace in my life?
So even if the world finds it odd
And frightfully abnormal
For you to be so scientific
Front to back
And recklessly disorganized
Back to front
We could make sense
If we just stay together!

Us

2007-10-03T05:39:00.000-07:00

What do we have between us?
That seems to set us free
Like a fragrant Gardenia on eighty five
That lingers on page three
The farther we stand, the closer we grow
Past Horizons we try to see
I see you as you see yourself
And you see everything that is not me

The Day is full of Electrochemical Detectors
And Pumps that whine in Glee
The Dusk lights up with shimmering lights
And the Night is a Reverie

There is so much room for Theatre with you
I can be all that I can be
Worry and Anger - or a Giggling Schoolgirl
Using Indifference to hide Jealousy
And the sheer amusement
Or the Happy Realization
That this nameless camaraderie
Lets you see through all the Jazz
And show me the Real Me?!!

It percolates into everything I do
And I sing as I chop the Broccoli
Scribble verses at the back of my lab book
Organize the lines methodically
For once it is not about the Future
Nor about the imperfect Past
I wonder if it is about the Present either
Or just the moments in which these Daydreams last?

Sometimes it is You and sometimes Me
Sometimes song and Sometimes hush-hush
But the Happiness and the Innocence seems to dissolve
What might stand between us.

Punctuations

2007-09-24T21:35:00.000-07:00

One day comes with a Question Mark
A funny frown and an unsure walk
Seeking answers between Commas
But never ending in a Full Stop

As the Hopeful Healthy Heart beats
Faster than usual in moments of Glee
Slower and weary after a rainfall of Tears
Never a moment where it ceases to be!

One circle leads to another
As the River shimmers and moonbeams shine
It may go up or spiralling down
But it will never turn into a boring line

As we sit with our label-makers
Trying to stick notes on moving wheels
One for the Rain that came down in July
And left us full of Autumn Dreams

Trying to control where we want to go
Eclipsed by our own Helplessness
Afraid of being a Curious Child
Lost in a long, harmless wilderness

Coming back to an Exclamation!
Well behaved words between the lines
Organizing feelings in definite folders
Challenged and Blessed..

By the lack of Stop Signs

As The Boundaries Fade

2007-09-21T23:14:00.000-07:00

I walk out of my mind
Now and then..
And always find
A brown girl

Speaking the same words
in a crisp tropical accent
Speaking the same language
Millimoles and Micrograms

Looking into Green Eyes
and making yellow heads nod
Watching the thoughtful Horizon
On a windy Ferry ride back home

Analyzing the difference
and marking similarities
Going back more than often now
to where she comes from
And fighting with the eventual questions
About where she wants to go