Wither Away..

Shall we scour or grow ourselves
in coming days of our life,
when the inevitable would be
mourning us from inside.

How long will we ignore them
and those we mean something,
though we know well within
in our conscience we have sinned.

The question of what's right here
and what's sneaking out there,
will remain our pastime forever
and never we will get it out for sure.

Alas, we smile and laugh amid our misery
turning blind to what we clearly see,
forget do we the fire that burns our brothers
will be ruining our dreams in an eventful spree.

Parody of Humanity

Stalled and dreaded, tireless they walk down
the deep gorge of doom and despair laying around.

Greed and wrath covered the high walls
welcomed them into the folds of endless struggle.

They craved and drooled as they crawl
towards the hidden mirage of joy, unknown to all.

The sky above them lightened a hope to breathe
with it's veil of endless serenity for all of them to feel.

Yet, they quarreled over the existence of sun at day
and fight for moon in it's whitey radiance at night.

They heard no one or let others say,they threw
rocks on each others face before they could say.

Rocks large and small, they armed all of them
said they would be ready for the mayhem.

A hungry vulture slyly swept around them
waiting for time when each one would be slayed.

Only if they could love and have cared more
with rocks to climb up the walls of the deep gorge.

Little they knew a vast land lay up there for them
with stretch of green plains and crystal rivers to swim in.

Under Construction ?

One never knows 

where he might stumble 

on the kerb of despair 

and faint on the vast green stretch of love.

But, what if there is no grass 

and only sharp gravel of pain 

and dirt of broken dreams ? 

There would be bruises all over 

and a deep ghastly wounded heart.

With the flamboyant attire of exhilaration 

soiled and not charming anymore, 

one would find himself breathing 

the murky cold air 

of ingratitude towards self.

Stumbling blocks of sanity..

sEAsONs

Alone, lived there a leafless dry flower
secluded in a valley of misty dreams,
where love always seemed to glower
on hearts that bled along their seams.

Countless years of callous lonely strife
spent with no bees or dandelion by its side,
the flower still had to live it's pitiful life
whether it was in teary pain or sheer delight.

Along then came season of joy with a leaf
grown by it's side and fallen from no tree.
Caressing, days and nights in joy and grief
they laughed together with a swaying glee.

Bathed, scented in the fresh morning dew
they danced, smiled and sung a lovely tune,
even in a parched season of breathing few
their furtive love was found intricately sewn.

Short, muted sighs with kiss deprived smile
sailed calmly along the dreaded tide of time,
then came the gold chested fall with it's guile
enchanting the valley into it's obdurate twine.

Blew then the sad days of long winter wind
gnawing out their splitting soul as it cried,
with a parting kiss and memories not maimed
the lively leaf departs the flower's lonely side.

memoiR

One's mind is a journal of thoughts, memories and doodles of myriad imagination that flips its pages over and over throughout the life, making us realize of what, from and why we are today? For me, it has always been my family and my loved ones that made me what I'm. As any grand-kid on the face of this earth, I have always felt safe and warm on thinking about my grandparents (which I do still). The time that I had spent with them would outlive all the other moments of happiness. Aai has a special place in these golden moments. It wasn't her only grace or wittiness that amazed me as kid, but the small things that she used to do. Her daily routine of applying kajal, bindi and braiding of hair was what I looked out for in the summer morning. I remember sitting beside her with an opened mouth of unexplained curiosity while she carried out her routines with a smile and a sparkling glitter in her eye.

Several years passed by, as I moved one step at a time in life, moving from one place to other. The time being an unsteady component of one’s life, changed a lot of us with its flow and so did Aai. The weakening legs, wrinkly skin and the blatant face of forgetfulness, still remind me of Aai in her later years. She had lost her charismatic way of loving me for she had a hard time to place me in her blurry memories. But, I still hoped and saw the very love during my visit to her before leaving for USA. That afternoon, I remember seeing her sitting in the veranda all alone looking at the open portico for no one she expected. I approached her, sat next by her and with a smile kissed her on her cheeks giving back the same warmth and compassionate love that she had rendered me with as a kid. I knew it might be hard for her to remember and sing me 'ahe nila sahila' that she used to sing devoutly to make me sleep, but nevertheless I placed my head on her skinny lap and with a childly innocence asked her whether she remember what she used to sing to me as a kid. I saw the same glitter of her love in her eyes as she patted me and hummed to a sleep for the lost dreams of our life.

I love you and miss you Aai for all the beautiful things in life that you have always taught me.

abyss of forlornness

With closed blue eyes I leap
into the deep gorge of reality,
I fly, I glide then I fall deep
along the sweet gust of levity.

Lofting me to a new end of life
piercing pain shivers down my spine,
I impale on the rock of truth, not lie
with shattered dreams and it's chime.

All I had to see is clearly seen ,
all I had to hear is said and heed
but all that in life I longed to feel,
is taken heartlessly far away from me.

Lifeless Screech..

Fly, fly o' my restless soul
wrapped in a smile
snugged in a frown
fly high across the deep blue sky

'with a creased heart deep within
that beats with grief all it's life
swirling thoughts all the time
flow down it's vein slime by slime

Fly, fly o' my boundless soul
away from the ruthless self
glide in the lifeless night
with the slyly moon by your side.

Late Night Show.. (Contd.)

I sneered at the dog on the pavement. Stretching itself on the concrete, under the pleasant mid October night it had no worries or thoughts to be concerned of. And, here I'm stuck with a question so intricate that I feel the two lobes of my brain derailed from spine. But something in me did want to know what is it? With curiosity brimming up my thoughts, I kept asking myself of the things that fitted his question. It was like playing ping-pong. For every answer that propped up I contradicted it with a reason. The very drama that I was going through reminded me of an episode in Family Guy where Stewie said, "Let me guess, you picked out yet another colorful box with a crank that I'm expected to turn and turn until OOP! big shock, a jack pops out and you laugh and the kids laugh and the dog laughs and I die a little inside."

Night was taking it's toll on me. The old man had meanwhile taken a comfortable seat on the pavement and was staring at the night sky. He looked at me and realized the onset of tiredness and impatience in me. With seconds turning into fruitless minutes and scores of cigar buds lying dead at my feet, he got up with help of his stick and laid his wrinkled arm on my shoulder.
"It's memory."
"What !", I exclaimed. The invisible spirit that held me up till now vanished all of a sudden. I had the typical "What the ___ ?" expression painted on my face. I felt like a sand castle being suddenly washed away by the sea to nowhere. It was then I realized that I wasted my time with a fool who had no idea of what he is asking about.
With a tone of dejection I said, "memory ? You know what not only you have wasted my time by some crap but you are wasting yours too."
He kept looking at me with no remorse. I continued, "Why don't you go and sleep or spend some quality time with your family. No ! instead you search for some dunce like me who would fall into your heart scorching eyes and play this game with you."
After all the insults thrown down at him he mutters, " well what can I do babu?"
With a teary eye he explained," I lost my wife a few weeks back. My wife, was everything for me."
My hear sank to those words. I felt the blood inside my veins have frozen and pricking me from inside taunting of what a sick selfish species I'm.
"Day and night thoughts of her haunt me. She was the only family left for me. I have no kids to go to. I have no option but to live with the memory of hers to relish."
"And you want to know when it would end?",I asked like a lawyer finally understanding the case.
"Yes. How long can I torment myself."
I could now see the pain and anguish in his teary eyes. He continued to tell me the story of how he met his wife in their village and how she had supported him on each and every crossroads of his life. I had never understood the love one may have for someone who had been so close to them for such a long time.

With lips pressed hard between my teeth, I apologized to him. I felt bad for him. Though we live in a nation which has second largest population, but there are few shoulders to support a morally disowned old man. He gestured me in an affectionate way to leave. He didn't want me to be bothered any more.
"Babu, please forgive if I have wasted your time. But thank you for lending a part of soul to me."
"That's fine, Kaka. But with all due respect, wouldn't you want to know when life would end ?"
With a smile naturally borne on his lips he answered, "If I would have known that then on the first place I wouldn't have bothered you with the question."
With all humility I stubbed out my last cigar, patted him on his boney back, " You didn't !"

Late Night Show..

"When does it end ?"
"What ?"
"When does it end ? "
"What ends when ?", I ask with a deep etched frown on my face.
He doesn't mind the frown and with eyes like a kid eager to know he asks me again, "When does it end ?"
The day has been like any other day for me, till now. Starting from the train ride to my office, 10 hours of work and another train ride back to home, I have been right on my daily track of living yet another day. Minutes before, I got down at my stop and walked with hundreds of people towards the exit. The evening has been pleasant with cool breeze invigorating the damped body. I didn't mind to lit up and smoke away the fatigue which had build up after a whole day's toil. Had I smoked a few puffs, I see an old man few feet away from me. Wearing a white kurta and dhoti , he hunched towards me using his stick. For an instance I didn't mind him thinking he was just a beggar. He would ask for few rupees and I would calmly brush him away or walk myself to some place far. That would have been easy.

"Kaka", I mellowed
"What do you want ?"
"Babu, I don't want anything. Just tell me when does it end ?"
Things would have been way different if the day would have been bad for me. I would have surely ignored him and walked to home. But somehow I didn't. What compelled me to stay and face him was his eyes. They stared at me with no hostility or sadness.
"You mean my cigar."
"No. I know when it ends with all the tobacco burnt up."
"Night ?"
"No, I know that ends with the dawn."
"Grief ?", I surmised looking at his sombre face.
He smiled. I thought I struck gold with that guess.
"No, I'm old enough to know that happiness and sadness are my pair of crutches in this lame life."
"Desire ?"
"No."
"No?", I asked. "You have no explanation for that", I smilingly mocked him.
"Well babu that has a direct relation with it."
I look at my watch to sigh how late I'm. that will have a direct consequence on my morning schedule. I would struggle getting up early if I keep playing this game. Aha, struggle. But what has struggle to do with desire? We do struggle for something we desire. But that ends when the desire ends. Now when does desire ends? According to him desire ends when 'it' in his question ends. Somewhere deep in my consciousness I realized asking myself a question of my own, when does this madness end ?

Contd....

Shuffle..

"Just one more hill and we can rest", that's what I said to blurry. The view was breathtaking. Brown hills stretched till the horizon with the blue roaring sea washing its feet at right. Trees and grasses dotted the hills while the dark ominous cloud patched up the blue bright sky. At first I didn't understand the view. Why this? Maybe because I have spend most of my childhood in a coastal city along the eastern ghats which shares a similar scenic sketch. Blurry and myself then pick ourselves up from the dirt and started walking further into the folds of the hills. I could enjoy the pleasant sight and sigh with an empty thought while dragging myself up the steep hill. I'm not sure how long it had been but I hear some one say, "Let's take a break! I need a smoke !". I turned around to notice another blurry with us and I didn't know about him. Is this the way it 's ought to happen? I'm sure when I started journey (which by the way started as if you turn to a chapter right in the middle of a book) I'm sure I didn't see anyone except the first blurry. The "smoky" blurry lites up his cigar and puffs away with eyes fixed on the gazing sun. I see the smoke dancing in air but cant smell it's stench !. All of a sudden everything around me started to change and flicker as a fast-forward film, it was then I felt being sucked out of a dark bottle through a pipe and my eyes open only to find myself gazing out of the window at the night sky. I got up to sip some water to quench the thirst, take a look at the clock and buzz off to start another chapter of a new unnamed book.

Charred

Locked away in the dark corner of this lonely world,
I screamed with my soul out to only listen to the echoes
of despair and anger reverberating in my mind.
I must have lost the beacon of hope somewhere in this enclosed space
for I face the sturdy wall whenever I take a step on.

Cooks Ahoy !!!

When all bored and tired of straining my eyes with books and TV, I find solace (next to sleeping..) in cooking something for my better half: my tummy..
Cooking, considered by many of the imbeciles as testosterone insulting and a pain-in-the arse, is actually something I adore a lot. Moreover, arent the top chefs in many of the Resteraunts around the globe men ?
I consider, cooking as great art..never the less something to make my food-craving belly happy. The texture, the aroma and the taste of food which mellows downs ones palates, is the only art form known to mankind for its deep effect on all our sensory organs ( well one has to ignore the ears, for most of the time we are busy listening to a TV or someone gloating about something. The sense of touch is very much present in parts of world where people use their hands to eat..!)

To the old saying that "man built the house but woman made of it a home" might be added the modern supplement that "woman accepted cooking as a chore but man has made of it a recreation."

Thus I'm sure of one thing in my life, I may not live in a lavish villa nor own a fancy car but I will cook and eat like a fine epicure... Burp !! (Excuse Me...)

Mom...

It has always occurred to me that whenever I find myself entangled in a situation created and worsened by me, I'm rescued by mom's ability to loosen the noose that tightens my will to come out of this dire situation. The solace that I have always found in her dark beady eyes and the warmth of her love that has impaled deep into my heart, will guide me in the darkest corners of my life like the majestic beacon of Alexandria.

In the whole universe there is no force more stronger and influential than that of a mothers love....

Happy Mother's day mom...

Choco-less Cookies..

Cookies in a jar, with all sort of variety and taste lure the eyes of many when opened up and offered ..The ones with the crisp chocolate toppings, nuts and cream are picked and savored the first. What about the ones without them? Well they either get dipped in one of those caffeine content diuretic drinks ,softened and eaten depriving them of their original in-born taste or left away in the jar to be softened by the humid air that eat them away slowly as time passes by. But has anybody thought of the reason what they have been made in the first place in the way they are, tasteless, non-chocolaty, non-creamy ? Well that's the way we all are brought in this world.

We do have the ones who lure the countless folks around us by our chocolaty trends and the creamy attitude that exists in between the very fold of our talks...But the non-chocolaty friends of mine, who according to me are vary much in the same magnitude love to be chocolaty never manage to get themselves picked among the multiple hands that reach down into the jar. They too want to be among the countless other cookies that make into the highly competitive hearts of people, but they manage not to because of their insipid "taste" that they carry with them. Well few may argue that these so called non-chocolaty cookies might taste better with one of the diuretic hot drinks, but what they fail to understand is that these cookies would love the world to accept them as they are and give them a chance to show that even they on their own can taste good. What if they look like more of an introvert and tasteless, they might fill you n your heart when try them with all your heart.

Just because sometimes they manage to hide themselves behind the opaque wrap of this world, does not mean they don't an heart or dont want to be savored. Cookies, whether chocolaty or non-chocolaty, like to be a part of somebody's satisfaction and happiness. It's just the fact that the chocolaty one's show their true taste outside but the inferior ones hide well beneath their starch composition. This world has tuned itself with the notion that unless they see a rich cream cookie with the nutty or choclaty coat on the outside , they won't even think of taking a bite into that cookie and tasting it's real "taste" forever.