A note I found with flower press
Tucked inside my faded dress.
This wrinkled,crumpled, paper pink
With curves of blue in Chelpark ink.
Do gently lay it back to rest
I have no more such silly zest
My sari pleats with sultry sway
I'm all grown up an' wise they say.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
Untitled Poem on Iraq
A cross by the street that is bleeding all day
A moon that is dulled by smokes of dismay
The lotus is dead in a still pond of grief
Murder, murder, fanatic belief.
Home with no dad, he lies at work dead
Life without ma, she wouldn’t drape head
Hungry he searches vain through the nights
His brimming eyes aided by flickering streetlights.
The end of the world is perhaps not yet near
But much of it drowned in his fallen tear.
A moon that is dulled by smokes of dismay
The lotus is dead in a still pond of grief
Murder, murder, fanatic belief.
Home with no dad, he lies at work dead
Life without ma, she wouldn’t drape head
Hungry he searches vain through the nights
His brimming eyes aided by flickering streetlights.
The end of the world is perhaps not yet near
But much of it drowned in his fallen tear.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The Work Out
THE WORK OUT
Biting back tears Ashwini turned to the cook-top and attacked her rotis. For a minute the expectant dining table and the toy-strewn floor disappeared as she imagined the dollop of dough to be Rajan’s head, which she deftly flattened with her rolling pin. She watched, fascinated, as the dough ballooned into a perfect circle—much like Rajan’s face, she noted. Then with a final smack Ashwini threw it onto the heated pan and let it brown in agony.
“Am I going to get one or is it all for Ash?” Rajan’s nasal sarcasm. Her tears overflowed. To a casual listener it was just a pet name but the nickname fell on the floor, gasping under the weight of their dead romance. Once Rajan had called her ‘Ash’ in molten whispers, proudly claiming she was the ‘real thing’ and the one on the screen was a mere namesake. Such was the beauty of his slender wife. Then Naina was born and the nickname turned into an acid spray, thrown at her face each time Rajan felt cheated. Her softly plump body and her milk-swelled breasts were not part of the nuptial promises exchanged in the heat of that night three years ago.
“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.” Rajan resumed his nagging monologue as Ashwini served dinner. “ Look at Aruna! She looks just the same as she was the day she got married! Why is it so difficult? Sach! I am more worried about your health than anything else.”
Ashwini sought refuge in her roti again, this time to hide her scorn. But she kept her silence. Three hard years in an alien country had helped tame her impetuous temper. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The cold banks of snow outside stood stern guardians to her lonely life. She often tried to remember the madness that had made her drop her art career in Pune and move to Princeton to be with Rajan. Nowadays she could not think that far back.
“Hmmm….Aruna does look good doesn’t she?” Something in Rajan’s tone made her look up sharply. The urge to snap back and confront became unbearable. She opened the tap and let cold water run over her burning fingertips.
“Kailash is a lucky lucky man.” The wistful regret finally seared through Ashwini.
“ACCCHA! Aruna looks really good haan ??!!?? You know why? She has a maid who comes in thrice a week to clean her house. She has a personal trainer who gives her two-hour sessions twice a week! For God’s sake she has a nanny to watch her kid while she is doing all this… OF COURSE she looks good. Maybe if you brought in as much as Kailash, I WOULD LOOK AS GOOD AS ARUNA!!!! And just for my information, how good does Aruna look? Care to tell me what’s going on? Hey bhagwaan, I am sick of this life, sick of you, sick of this country…you are driving me CRAZY. You don’t like who I am? Then why stay married to me. Go marry Aruna. I’m DONE.” The flight and crash of a startled bowl punctuated her fury. Then a deafening silence seeped into the room, slowing down everything—even the seconds ticking away on the microwave’s dial.
A small whimper from the corner reminded her of the innocent witness. Ashwini threw down her apron and ran over to the baby cowering in the playpen. Cooing softly she picked up Naina and exited the room.
************************************************************************
Rajan was stunned. What just happened? He sat frozen at the dinner table time, a half-eaten morsel sticking persistently to his fingers.
As the shock subsided, he was even more incredulous at his reaction. Was he actually feeling happy? Yes! That was a smile on his face. Even though he was taken aback by the force of her outlash, yet he felt a curious satisfaction in having finally provoked her out of silence. That annoying wall of calm had finally crashed. And it was delightful to think she was actually jealous…Ashwini jealous!!?!! The ice maiden of all times had melted and how! He got up chuckling, hugely buoyed by the thought.
***********************************************************************
The doorknob clicked softly behind her. “Here goes,” she thought. If backs could speak, Ashwini’s back was a piteous mixture of apprehension, defiance and vulnerability. For a minute Rajan was tempted to put his arms around her and make passionate love. Then his eyes fell on the small brown arm circling her waist, resting on the gentle bulge apparent under her shirt and the desire fled. Yet, in a moment where he would have normally reacted brutally, he was benevolent, mellowed by his triumph. He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her around and was further gratified to see the relieved surprise in her eyes.
Keeping his voice low so as not to wake the baby he asked “What do you want Ashwini? Do you need some free time? A workout? Let me help you. Tell me what you need. Lets make this work. You know you can do it. I am here for you. Just tell me anything you need.”
Ashwini could only stare dumbly at her husband. What was this? What was this new ploy? She grappled with the unexpected and was hopelessly defeated. She continued to stare mutely at Rajan.
Irritation flared in Rajan’s face as he mistook her surprise was habitual silence. Desperate that she was going to shut him out again, anxious to see he still held power over her, hoping he was finally going to motivate her to some action, he tumbled into speech – hurried, tender and made promises he regretted when sanity returned.
But the upshot of it was that it was decided (mostly by Rajan) that Ashwini would get a membership at the local gym and work out three evenings. And for that, Rajan would forgo his evening with ‘the boys’ and instead be home with Naina. In fact, he even went so far as to venture he could consider cooking dinner.
Head spinning, Ashwini felt a warm glow spread over her. Perhaps he did genuinely care for her. Perhaps she was wrong to feel his love was conditional. Perhaps she should apologize for her outburst.
She turned to him and but was stopped in her tracks as Rajan continued “ Ah! Yes, no problem. I just want my Ash back. You don’t know how tough this past year has been. Your pregnancy and the birth and all that jhamela. But it will be ok now. God! I can’t wait to see the look on Kailash’s face when he sees you. You know what, one kid is enough! I don’t think I could deal with another…Hum Do Humara Ek …eh????” And winking lewdly at her, chuckling at his wit, Rajan went back to finish his dinner.
Ashwini smiled sadly. So nothing had changed. In a way this was simpler, easier. But now she had to go the gym and train like a prized poodle. Lying down on the bed next to Naina, she wondered how to get out of it. Drowsily she turned over plans. By the time her stomach rumbled a plea for dinner, she was deep in exhausted sleep.
************************************************************************
“Bye sweetheart,” Ashwini sent a kiss flying straight to Naina and closed the door behind her. Too late she realized she had not said anything to Rajan. She hesitated but then turned and hurried down the stairs, half afraid of what she would find if she went back.
It was a beautiful Monday evening. Crisp air, watery sunshine fading slowly. Princeton was fresh, cold, beautiful. Striding along in her red jacket Ashwini felt more vibrant, alive. Old-fashioned street lamps were flickering on as darkness descended. Students spilled out of libraries and coffee shops and prepared to go home. She stopped to look into the wide, dimly lit window of an Italian restaurant. Watching diners forming graceful tableaus, their silver glittering against white table cloths, candle light teasing rosy glows into smiling cheeks. For the first time in a long time, Ashwini longed for her paint brush.
Sighing she headed on and finally found herself face to face with a tall brick building. Could this be the correct address? But something was wrong. There was a crowd around the front door and fire alarms were jangling. Someone informed her a fire drill was going on. Damn 9/11 he said and disappeared.
Ashwini waited patiently. With languid interest she observed as more people filed onto the street. Another woman in tight pink leotards informed her that the class would still be held, but would be delayed by an hour. Ashwini thanked her and looked around wondering what she could do meanwhile. Her eyes were drawn to a small bar under the level of the pavement. One could only make out half arcs for heads as people swirled around, underground. Something in the secrecy of the place appealed to Ashiwni. She decided to go in.
************************************************************************
“…And what would you like to drink this evening?” the waiter asked with amazing cheerfulness. Ashwini looked down confusedly at the menu in her hands and then felt irritated by her awkwardness. “A glass of the house red, please” she said, smoothly closing the book shut and giving it over to the waiting hand. “Oh and can I get a glass of water?” “Sure!” the young student prepared to move.
“Oh can I get some lemon in my water? If its not too much bother…..”
“Anything for a pretty lady like you,” the student disappeared into a mulling cloud of waiters, leaving behind a bemused Ashwini. Could it be possible he was actually flirting with her? The thought amused her and was more than a little appealing.
The next time he brought out her wine, she took an extra hard look at him, blushing when he caught her eye with a mocking smile. He was not a student she decided. The crow feet around his eyes belied his youthful looks. He is almost my age, she realized and then blushed again, even more violently, as he winked at her from across the room.
She sat for an hour in a quiet corner of the room, softening under the warmth of her wine and the smiling waiter. She did not speak a word, never once looked around the room. She was cocooned inside a crystal glass served with a mischievous look. There was some enchantment in that bar that she was not willing to analyze. As the clock chimed eight she steeled her senses again and knew it was time to leave. She looked around for her waiter but he was nowhere to be seen. Another waiter answered her wave and got her the check.
She opened the check-book and a grin spread through her face. A brochure of Princeton lay tucked into the black leather. Two words were scrawled against its face “For Tomorrow.” That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet it set every nerve in Ashiwni’s body tingling with anticipation. Whether it was an invitation or a directive, the brochure promised adventure. It tempted her to make friends with this foreign land. It reminded her she had made no attempt to explore her new home.
Paying by cash, she left behind no tip. Instead she wrote ‘thank you’ on a white scrap of napkin and tucked it where the brochure had been.
************************************************************************
Rajan watched in satisfaction as Ashwini sashayed around the kitchen making rotis. She was humming lightly under her breath and even laughed out loud once at a wise crack from Jay Leno.
“Its all in the endorphins you know” he called after her as she went over to the fridge to get out the yoghurt.
“Huh?” Ashwini looked up confused.
“Its all the endorphins released by the exercise. Look at you. You look almost pretty. I am so glad you had your work out.”
Ashwini nodded docilely and reconciled her expression into obedient delight. She crossed over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek “Yes, I am glad I worked it out too. Thank you.” She went back to the cooking range. Rajan settled into a contented meal.
*********************************************************************
He was bound to figure it out some day. Soon he would realize she was not working out.
OR, she thought smiling devilishly as she added a huge dollop of ghee to his daal, or perhaps by then he could very well have something he would need to work out himself!
Biting back tears Ashwini turned to the cook-top and attacked her rotis. For a minute the expectant dining table and the toy-strewn floor disappeared as she imagined the dollop of dough to be Rajan’s head, which she deftly flattened with her rolling pin. She watched, fascinated, as the dough ballooned into a perfect circle—much like Rajan’s face, she noted. Then with a final smack Ashwini threw it onto the heated pan and let it brown in agony.
“Am I going to get one or is it all for Ash?” Rajan’s nasal sarcasm. Her tears overflowed. To a casual listener it was just a pet name but the nickname fell on the floor, gasping under the weight of their dead romance. Once Rajan had called her ‘Ash’ in molten whispers, proudly claiming she was the ‘real thing’ and the one on the screen was a mere namesake. Such was the beauty of his slender wife. Then Naina was born and the nickname turned into an acid spray, thrown at her face each time Rajan felt cheated. Her softly plump body and her milk-swelled breasts were not part of the nuptial promises exchanged in the heat of that night three years ago.
“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.” Rajan resumed his nagging monologue as Ashwini served dinner. “ Look at Aruna! She looks just the same as she was the day she got married! Why is it so difficult? Sach! I am more worried about your health than anything else.”
Ashwini sought refuge in her roti again, this time to hide her scorn. But she kept her silence. Three hard years in an alien country had helped tame her impetuous temper. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The cold banks of snow outside stood stern guardians to her lonely life. She often tried to remember the madness that had made her drop her art career in Pune and move to Princeton to be with Rajan. Nowadays she could not think that far back.
“Hmmm….Aruna does look good doesn’t she?” Something in Rajan’s tone made her look up sharply. The urge to snap back and confront became unbearable. She opened the tap and let cold water run over her burning fingertips.
“Kailash is a lucky lucky man.” The wistful regret finally seared through Ashwini.
“ACCCHA! Aruna looks really good haan ??!!?? You know why? She has a maid who comes in thrice a week to clean her house. She has a personal trainer who gives her two-hour sessions twice a week! For God’s sake she has a nanny to watch her kid while she is doing all this… OF COURSE she looks good. Maybe if you brought in as much as Kailash, I WOULD LOOK AS GOOD AS ARUNA!!!! And just for my information, how good does Aruna look? Care to tell me what’s going on? Hey bhagwaan, I am sick of this life, sick of you, sick of this country…you are driving me CRAZY. You don’t like who I am? Then why stay married to me. Go marry Aruna. I’m DONE.” The flight and crash of a startled bowl punctuated her fury. Then a deafening silence seeped into the room, slowing down everything—even the seconds ticking away on the microwave’s dial.
A small whimper from the corner reminded her of the innocent witness. Ashwini threw down her apron and ran over to the baby cowering in the playpen. Cooing softly she picked up Naina and exited the room.
************************************************************************
Rajan was stunned. What just happened? He sat frozen at the dinner table time, a half-eaten morsel sticking persistently to his fingers.
As the shock subsided, he was even more incredulous at his reaction. Was he actually feeling happy? Yes! That was a smile on his face. Even though he was taken aback by the force of her outlash, yet he felt a curious satisfaction in having finally provoked her out of silence. That annoying wall of calm had finally crashed. And it was delightful to think she was actually jealous…Ashwini jealous!!?!! The ice maiden of all times had melted and how! He got up chuckling, hugely buoyed by the thought.
***********************************************************************
The doorknob clicked softly behind her. “Here goes,” she thought. If backs could speak, Ashwini’s back was a piteous mixture of apprehension, defiance and vulnerability. For a minute Rajan was tempted to put his arms around her and make passionate love. Then his eyes fell on the small brown arm circling her waist, resting on the gentle bulge apparent under her shirt and the desire fled. Yet, in a moment where he would have normally reacted brutally, he was benevolent, mellowed by his triumph. He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her around and was further gratified to see the relieved surprise in her eyes.
Keeping his voice low so as not to wake the baby he asked “What do you want Ashwini? Do you need some free time? A workout? Let me help you. Tell me what you need. Lets make this work. You know you can do it. I am here for you. Just tell me anything you need.”
Ashwini could only stare dumbly at her husband. What was this? What was this new ploy? She grappled with the unexpected and was hopelessly defeated. She continued to stare mutely at Rajan.
Irritation flared in Rajan’s face as he mistook her surprise was habitual silence. Desperate that she was going to shut him out again, anxious to see he still held power over her, hoping he was finally going to motivate her to some action, he tumbled into speech – hurried, tender and made promises he regretted when sanity returned.
But the upshot of it was that it was decided (mostly by Rajan) that Ashwini would get a membership at the local gym and work out three evenings. And for that, Rajan would forgo his evening with ‘the boys’ and instead be home with Naina. In fact, he even went so far as to venture he could consider cooking dinner.
Head spinning, Ashwini felt a warm glow spread over her. Perhaps he did genuinely care for her. Perhaps she was wrong to feel his love was conditional. Perhaps she should apologize for her outburst.
She turned to him and but was stopped in her tracks as Rajan continued “ Ah! Yes, no problem. I just want my Ash back. You don’t know how tough this past year has been. Your pregnancy and the birth and all that jhamela. But it will be ok now. God! I can’t wait to see the look on Kailash’s face when he sees you. You know what, one kid is enough! I don’t think I could deal with another…Hum Do Humara Ek …eh????” And winking lewdly at her, chuckling at his wit, Rajan went back to finish his dinner.
Ashwini smiled sadly. So nothing had changed. In a way this was simpler, easier. But now she had to go the gym and train like a prized poodle. Lying down on the bed next to Naina, she wondered how to get out of it. Drowsily she turned over plans. By the time her stomach rumbled a plea for dinner, she was deep in exhausted sleep.
************************************************************************
“Bye sweetheart,” Ashwini sent a kiss flying straight to Naina and closed the door behind her. Too late she realized she had not said anything to Rajan. She hesitated but then turned and hurried down the stairs, half afraid of what she would find if she went back.
It was a beautiful Monday evening. Crisp air, watery sunshine fading slowly. Princeton was fresh, cold, beautiful. Striding along in her red jacket Ashwini felt more vibrant, alive. Old-fashioned street lamps were flickering on as darkness descended. Students spilled out of libraries and coffee shops and prepared to go home. She stopped to look into the wide, dimly lit window of an Italian restaurant. Watching diners forming graceful tableaus, their silver glittering against white table cloths, candle light teasing rosy glows into smiling cheeks. For the first time in a long time, Ashwini longed for her paint brush.
Sighing she headed on and finally found herself face to face with a tall brick building. Could this be the correct address? But something was wrong. There was a crowd around the front door and fire alarms were jangling. Someone informed her a fire drill was going on. Damn 9/11 he said and disappeared.
Ashwini waited patiently. With languid interest she observed as more people filed onto the street. Another woman in tight pink leotards informed her that the class would still be held, but would be delayed by an hour. Ashwini thanked her and looked around wondering what she could do meanwhile. Her eyes were drawn to a small bar under the level of the pavement. One could only make out half arcs for heads as people swirled around, underground. Something in the secrecy of the place appealed to Ashiwni. She decided to go in.
************************************************************************
“…And what would you like to drink this evening?” the waiter asked with amazing cheerfulness. Ashwini looked down confusedly at the menu in her hands and then felt irritated by her awkwardness. “A glass of the house red, please” she said, smoothly closing the book shut and giving it over to the waiting hand. “Oh and can I get a glass of water?” “Sure!” the young student prepared to move.
“Oh can I get some lemon in my water? If its not too much bother…..”
“Anything for a pretty lady like you,” the student disappeared into a mulling cloud of waiters, leaving behind a bemused Ashwini. Could it be possible he was actually flirting with her? The thought amused her and was more than a little appealing.
The next time he brought out her wine, she took an extra hard look at him, blushing when he caught her eye with a mocking smile. He was not a student she decided. The crow feet around his eyes belied his youthful looks. He is almost my age, she realized and then blushed again, even more violently, as he winked at her from across the room.
She sat for an hour in a quiet corner of the room, softening under the warmth of her wine and the smiling waiter. She did not speak a word, never once looked around the room. She was cocooned inside a crystal glass served with a mischievous look. There was some enchantment in that bar that she was not willing to analyze. As the clock chimed eight she steeled her senses again and knew it was time to leave. She looked around for her waiter but he was nowhere to be seen. Another waiter answered her wave and got her the check.
She opened the check-book and a grin spread through her face. A brochure of Princeton lay tucked into the black leather. Two words were scrawled against its face “For Tomorrow.” That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet it set every nerve in Ashiwni’s body tingling with anticipation. Whether it was an invitation or a directive, the brochure promised adventure. It tempted her to make friends with this foreign land. It reminded her she had made no attempt to explore her new home.
Paying by cash, she left behind no tip. Instead she wrote ‘thank you’ on a white scrap of napkin and tucked it where the brochure had been.
************************************************************************
Rajan watched in satisfaction as Ashwini sashayed around the kitchen making rotis. She was humming lightly under her breath and even laughed out loud once at a wise crack from Jay Leno.
“Its all in the endorphins you know” he called after her as she went over to the fridge to get out the yoghurt.
“Huh?” Ashwini looked up confused.
“Its all the endorphins released by the exercise. Look at you. You look almost pretty. I am so glad you had your work out.”
Ashwini nodded docilely and reconciled her expression into obedient delight. She crossed over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek “Yes, I am glad I worked it out too. Thank you.” She went back to the cooking range. Rajan settled into a contented meal.
*********************************************************************
He was bound to figure it out some day. Soon he would realize she was not working out.
OR, she thought smiling devilishly as she added a huge dollop of ghee to his daal, or perhaps by then he could very well have something he would need to work out himself!
Friday, May 26, 2006
Silence
Words let loose, suspended crowd
A fog of words, clamoring loud
Jostling, jiving, inching pace
Pressing, pushing at my face.
Bind them tight and overboard
Spear them with a silent sword
Muffle them in soundless sign
Bury them in wordless line.
Silence, Silence, silver, light
Silence worn in gentle white
Silence lying on my skin
Silence...Silence....sigh....
A fog of words, clamoring loud
Jostling, jiving, inching pace
Pressing, pushing at my face.
Bind them tight and overboard
Spear them with a silent sword
Muffle them in soundless sign
Bury them in wordless line.
Silence, Silence, silver, light
Silence worn in gentle white
Silence lying on my skin
Silence...Silence....sigh....
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Sri
It’s quite simple really. I am in love. In love with a man named Sri.
Perhaps I fell in love when he forgot my birthday and looked devastated at the realization. Or perhaps it was when he e-mailed me nonsensical rhymes in the middle of the night. Or was it the first time he surprised me with a home-cooked dinner of rassam and rice and sang ‘wish you were here’ completely off-key, on his guitar.
I cannot seem to be rid of him now. He has grown into me -- till I am unsure where I end and where he begins. I love him for not flinching at the sight of me rolling out of bed early in the morning hair standing on end, eyes puffy with sleep. I love the gentle drumming of his fingers on my ankles as I rest my feet on his lap watching TV. I love the look of delight in his eyes when I make him a cup of filter coffee. And what woman can withstand a man who voluntary fetches her a glass of cold water in the middle of a hot summer night?
And then I love him some more, because I respect him. I respect him for his integrity and his honesty. I respect him for the love and loyalty with which he cares for his parents. I respect him utterly for never disrespecting me, no matter how great the intimacy between us.
So I married him. He is my husband. I love him now just the teeniest bit extra just for that… for being my husband. Of course with kids underfoot I hardly get to spend much time with him. But we still hold hands when we go to sleep, over our slumbering children- and I love him then so deeply, for completing that circle of love.
Perhaps I fell in love when he forgot my birthday and looked devastated at the realization. Or perhaps it was when he e-mailed me nonsensical rhymes in the middle of the night. Or was it the first time he surprised me with a home-cooked dinner of rassam and rice and sang ‘wish you were here’ completely off-key, on his guitar.
I cannot seem to be rid of him now. He has grown into me -- till I am unsure where I end and where he begins. I love him for not flinching at the sight of me rolling out of bed early in the morning hair standing on end, eyes puffy with sleep. I love the gentle drumming of his fingers on my ankles as I rest my feet on his lap watching TV. I love the look of delight in his eyes when I make him a cup of filter coffee. And what woman can withstand a man who voluntary fetches her a glass of cold water in the middle of a hot summer night?
And then I love him some more, because I respect him. I respect him for his integrity and his honesty. I respect him for the love and loyalty with which he cares for his parents. I respect him utterly for never disrespecting me, no matter how great the intimacy between us.
So I married him. He is my husband. I love him now just the teeniest bit extra just for that… for being my husband. Of course with kids underfoot I hardly get to spend much time with him. But we still hold hands when we go to sleep, over our slumbering children- and I love him then so deeply, for completing that circle of love.
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Quest
Dear Reader
For some time now I have been in search of a mysterious Observer. Time and again this discerning reporter has noted ordinary happenings of everyday life and relayed them with such inspired words that we will remember them for years. I am also much intrigued buy the fact that he has preserved his anonymity with remarkable humility.
Yet, his actions also beg some level of condemnation. Many a times was he not a passive participant when acts of atrocity were being committed? Was it not his duty to interfere when justice, life, liberty were at stake? This then raises the question, did this reporter remain anonymous simply to protect himself? Or even worse, could he have been involved in the perpetration of these crimes?
Perhaps my dear reader is now losing interest and wondering if the writer of this piece is talking through the proverbial hat. Let me then develop my case by using concrete examples.
I start with the case of The Three Blind Mice. Not many would find time to observe the hapless lives of this handicapped minority, let alone spend precious time describing their overtures to a farmer's wife. However, once things turned macabre with the unwilling wife brandishing a knife, should not this observer have intervened? At least a quick call to the farmer should have been made. Who knows what evil was wraught on the farmer once his aroused wife was done with the mice?
Similarly, this reporter displayed abominable behavior in the case of Bo Peep and the Lost Sheep. Once again, while not many reporters would have the courage to relay news on such non-political matters, what kind of an insensitive brute would tell Bo Peep to 'leave them alone' and that 'they would come home.' As a reader I was always left wondering what happened to Bo Peep? Why were these false assurances being fed to her?
And then of course there was the supreme tragedy of the atheist. When Goosey Gander was dragging him down the stairs, he must have looked expectantly at this reporter, hoping for a miraculous rescue. But we know the Goose wandered unhindered-- his extraordinary strength even escaped comment (steroids??). And so many questions left unanswered! Why the left leg? Why was the old man refusing to say his prayers? And what was he doing in a lady's chamber? I fear there has been cover-up of a sex scandal or a communal conflict.
And so I can go on. Citing case after case. The unfortunate duo going up the hill, the cat in the well (what was so ding-dong about it anyway?), the monkey brothers caught jumping on the bed etc. etc.
I hope I have provoked some thought in you by now. Preserve this missive. In case anything ever happens to me, do ensure it reaches appropriate authorities.
Time to stop lazing on this wall and spring into action
Humpty Dumpty
For some time now I have been in search of a mysterious Observer. Time and again this discerning reporter has noted ordinary happenings of everyday life and relayed them with such inspired words that we will remember them for years. I am also much intrigued buy the fact that he has preserved his anonymity with remarkable humility.
Yet, his actions also beg some level of condemnation. Many a times was he not a passive participant when acts of atrocity were being committed? Was it not his duty to interfere when justice, life, liberty were at stake? This then raises the question, did this reporter remain anonymous simply to protect himself? Or even worse, could he have been involved in the perpetration of these crimes?
Perhaps my dear reader is now losing interest and wondering if the writer of this piece is talking through the proverbial hat. Let me then develop my case by using concrete examples.
I start with the case of The Three Blind Mice. Not many would find time to observe the hapless lives of this handicapped minority, let alone spend precious time describing their overtures to a farmer's wife. However, once things turned macabre with the unwilling wife brandishing a knife, should not this observer have intervened? At least a quick call to the farmer should have been made. Who knows what evil was wraught on the farmer once his aroused wife was done with the mice?
Similarly, this reporter displayed abominable behavior in the case of Bo Peep and the Lost Sheep. Once again, while not many reporters would have the courage to relay news on such non-political matters, what kind of an insensitive brute would tell Bo Peep to 'leave them alone' and that 'they would come home.' As a reader I was always left wondering what happened to Bo Peep? Why were these false assurances being fed to her?
And then of course there was the supreme tragedy of the atheist. When Goosey Gander was dragging him down the stairs, he must have looked expectantly at this reporter, hoping for a miraculous rescue. But we know the Goose wandered unhindered-- his extraordinary strength even escaped comment (steroids??). And so many questions left unanswered! Why the left leg? Why was the old man refusing to say his prayers? And what was he doing in a lady's chamber? I fear there has been cover-up of a sex scandal or a communal conflict.
And so I can go on. Citing case after case. The unfortunate duo going up the hill, the cat in the well (what was so ding-dong about it anyway?), the monkey brothers caught jumping on the bed etc. etc.
I hope I have provoked some thought in you by now. Preserve this missive. In case anything ever happens to me, do ensure it reaches appropriate authorities.
Time to stop lazing on this wall and spring into action
Humpty Dumpty
Invitation
I'm sorry I missed you
Dear guest oh so gay!
I was working you see
I was building all day
Do come by again
Dear guest oh so kind!
I'm done now with building
A better frame of mind.
Dear guest oh so gay!
I was working you see
I was building all day
Do come by again
Dear guest oh so kind!
I'm done now with building
A better frame of mind.
Just 'Cause
I'm forgetting
I know
I know it's true
'Cause I sit here
Spent
Spent forgetting you.
I need you
No more
No, more I must be
‘Cause it never was
You
You were no more than me
Believe me
You will
You will it be true
‘Cause you need me
No more
No more to love you.
I know
I know it's true
'Cause I sit here
Spent
Spent forgetting you.
I need you
No more
No, more I must be
‘Cause it never was
You
You were no more than me
Believe me
You will
You will it be true
‘Cause you need me
No more
No more to love you.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
A Child's Sunrise
Good Morning, Good morning, Mr. Sun
I was asleep but now I'm done
You left the shore at six half past
So glad to see your shining mast
Wonder while I closed my eyes
What has come and passed me by?
Did my baby bird take flight?
That bug become a winged delight?
Ah! Look! A spider web
Must keep it safe from water’s ebb
It makes me laugh this windowsill
That lazy lizard lying still
Ready? Spying glass in hand
To look through every bit of sand
I have to gather splendid news
For a friendly poet’s muse.
I was asleep but now I'm done
You left the shore at six half past
So glad to see your shining mast
Wonder while I closed my eyes
What has come and passed me by?
Did my baby bird take flight?
That bug become a winged delight?
Ah! Look! A spider web
Must keep it safe from water’s ebb
It makes me laugh this windowsill
That lazy lizard lying still
Ready? Spying glass in hand
To look through every bit of sand
I have to gather splendid news
For a friendly poet’s muse.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Dinner is served...
Swollen air, full of thoughts
Zealous heat, boiling pot
Unkempt spices sigh and swoon
Fevered pan, sweating spoon
Wanton tiles, lying bare
Sticky touch, wounded pear
Served tonight, on white pristine
Dinner cooked with stifled dreams.
Zealous heat, boiling pot
Unkempt spices sigh and swoon
Fevered pan, sweating spoon
Wanton tiles, lying bare
Sticky touch, wounded pear
Served tonight, on white pristine
Dinner cooked with stifled dreams.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Perfect Afternoon
Sunbeams dapple thru
Silken jade
Caught in pools of
Luminous shade
Filigree prints
That shift and sway
With brazen wind
In sensuous play
Cradled within
This magical nook
I dreamily read
A poetry book.
Silken jade
Caught in pools of
Luminous shade
Filigree prints
That shift and sway
With brazen wind
In sensuous play
Cradled within
This magical nook
I dreamily read
A poetry book.
Friday, May 05, 2006
I spy you...Death
Unexpected voice
In a restful night
Faint on my ears
Almost unrecognized
Heralding news of the final breath
Drawn gasping upon a lonely tile
Shoulders sagging
Under a lifetime of guilt
Fingers unclenched
Letting go of all holds
Perhaps it was apt
That he should be naked
The smoking pyre
Blunting my memories
Blurring them
With soot-filled pain
The fire like warm rain
Soaking my face
I sit waiting
Waiting for him to rise
Waiting for this scene to end
Can we go to the next act please?
I spy you Death
Hiding under chairs
Lurking behind doors
Marring every inch
Of my peaceful home
You have hammered my heart
Chiseled my brain
Till I am sculpted proof
Of your unforgiving workmanship
I know once we are pulled
Into your embrace
We cannot step back
Cannot break free
Opiate in your stifling caress
We let go
Of all we were
Of all we could have become
We turn to stone
Silent statues in your home
Smiling photos in ours.
In a restful night
Faint on my ears
Almost unrecognized
Heralding news of the final breath
Drawn gasping upon a lonely tile
Shoulders sagging
Under a lifetime of guilt
Fingers unclenched
Letting go of all holds
Perhaps it was apt
That he should be naked
The smoking pyre
Blunting my memories
Blurring them
With soot-filled pain
The fire like warm rain
Soaking my face
I sit waiting
Waiting for him to rise
Waiting for this scene to end
Can we go to the next act please?
I spy you Death
Hiding under chairs
Lurking behind doors
Marring every inch
Of my peaceful home
You have hammered my heart
Chiseled my brain
Till I am sculpted proof
Of your unforgiving workmanship
I know once we are pulled
Into your embrace
We cannot step back
Cannot break free
Opiate in your stifling caress
We let go
Of all we were
Of all we could have become
We turn to stone
Silent statues in your home
Smiling photos in ours.
A mother's confession
There is no joy comparable to the pleasure of watching your children reach out to each other.
The past 5 months I have watched my two-year old grow from being the pampered baby of the house to a responsible anna who authoratatively tells me to feed the baby on time. It amazes me how much this little child learned in such a short time! How quickly he let go of his jealousy -- how easily it transformed into unconditional acceptance and affection. How large is his heart I wonder. If there is one thing I pray for fervently its that he retains this capacity to give -- or that I should not be alive to see him lose it. It would be more than I could bear.
And my younger one? He has eyes for no one other than his anna. He starts cooing and drools bubbles the minute anna comes from school. I have so often watched this baby smiling adoringly, just quietly watching as the older one chatters non-stop. And then, the most beautiful moment-- that rare second when the two calm down enough to connect. Anna gently holds up a toy for the baby to grab and the two laugh aloud in some secret joke.
In that moment I know they will be ok. When I am gone and I cannot watch over them, they will be there for each other. Each my half watching over the other half.
Where did they learn they are brothers? Did my womb teach them something even while I slept through the nights? The umblical cord that we threw away was an illusion. Its still there. Between these two. Holding them together, holding them safe. Advait and Vedant- brothers- my sons.
The past 5 months I have watched my two-year old grow from being the pampered baby of the house to a responsible anna who authoratatively tells me to feed the baby on time. It amazes me how much this little child learned in such a short time! How quickly he let go of his jealousy -- how easily it transformed into unconditional acceptance and affection. How large is his heart I wonder. If there is one thing I pray for fervently its that he retains this capacity to give -- or that I should not be alive to see him lose it. It would be more than I could bear.
And my younger one? He has eyes for no one other than his anna. He starts cooing and drools bubbles the minute anna comes from school. I have so often watched this baby smiling adoringly, just quietly watching as the older one chatters non-stop. And then, the most beautiful moment-- that rare second when the two calm down enough to connect. Anna gently holds up a toy for the baby to grab and the two laugh aloud in some secret joke.
In that moment I know they will be ok. When I am gone and I cannot watch over them, they will be there for each other. Each my half watching over the other half.
Where did they learn they are brothers? Did my womb teach them something even while I slept through the nights? The umblical cord that we threw away was an illusion. Its still there. Between these two. Holding them together, holding them safe. Advait and Vedant- brothers- my sons.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Good Morning Iraq
A miracle could happen
At the stroke of midnight
Just like it did
For my land
Guns could turn ito
Merry young flutes
With the touch of
A magic hand.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
Soldiers will smile
As they start their fire
At enemy lines
So worn.
Each volley of shots
Throwing music to winds
Waltzing away
In the morn.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
Oh can it not happen?
Is it just a dream?
Can no one bring peace
To that soil?
Perhaps if God signs
A pact with Allah
And dries up
All the oil.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
At the stroke of midnight
Just like it did
For my land
Guns could turn ito
Merry young flutes
With the touch of
A magic hand.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
Soldiers will smile
As they start their fire
At enemy lines
So worn.
Each volley of shots
Throwing music to winds
Waltzing away
In the morn.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
Oh can it not happen?
Is it just a dream?
Can no one bring peace
To that soil?
Perhaps if God signs
A pact with Allah
And dries up
All the oil.
A miraculous dawn for Iraq
Will have come
A miraculous dawn at last!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
My family
Sri
A bowl full of promise
Waiting for me
In the spacious dawn of my kitchen sink
Yamu
An elusive reply
To my unspoken question
Advait
My breath caught by hands
Stirring liquid pots of mischief
Vedant
My smile in the morning
My sigh at mid-night
Mom
A perpendicular red
In a page full of horizontals
A bowl full of promise
Waiting for me
In the spacious dawn of my kitchen sink
Yamu
An elusive reply
To my unspoken question
Advait
My breath caught by hands
Stirring liquid pots of mischief
Vedant
My smile in the morning
My sigh at mid-night
Mom
A perpendicular red
In a page full of horizontals
Personally Defined
Peace:
A naughty dollop
Of double chocolate dare
Peacefully melting
In my hot mouth.
Respite:
A moment of quiet
So I can think a full thought
Without you spilling milk all over it.
Planning:
Lets plan to talk
When we can hear each other.
Sin:
An afternoon hidden
Laden with two hours of stolen sleep.
Love:
Your small brown button mouth
Caked with forgotten yoghurt
Waiting for a kiss.
Holding Pattern:
A pattern on my handekerchief
I trace again and again
With my eyes.
Salad
A handful of definitions
Tossed and served with a slice of life.
A naughty dollop
Of double chocolate dare
Peacefully melting
In my hot mouth.
Respite:
A moment of quiet
So I can think a full thought
Without you spilling milk all over it.
Planning:
Lets plan to talk
When we can hear each other.
Sin:
An afternoon hidden
Laden with two hours of stolen sleep.
Love:
Your small brown button mouth
Caked with forgotten yoghurt
Waiting for a kiss.
Holding Pattern:
A pattern on my handekerchief
I trace again and again
With my eyes.
Salad
A handful of definitions
Tossed and served with a slice of life.
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