Letting Go! Life!

Maybe it time to let go
Maybe its time for life of meloncholy

Whats life without the bittersweet tears

What was once a possibility of setting things free
turns against you in the face of reality

Why is it that when you image doing something
is easier than actually doing it

A simple act of letting go - it isn't simple at all

But life has to go on...

For those who you let go, might decide to stay back!
Life might after all that you plan - completely surprise me! 

One Eye Blind

There are days,
my life feels like a suicide in slowmotion.
pointless, heading nowhere but to the certain end
the action inbetween - inconsequential actually.
Its really downhill all the way. Then i know its one of the days.
My left eye is open.

Otherdays inbetween,a spring in my step, a sense of humor,
a purpose to the day, if not life, where my existance matters.
a reson to exist, maybe conjecture, is born in my mind
my world goes around that day, for then i know.
My right eye is open.

The difference between the days,
between my left and right eye - is this.

When my right eye is open - i see all thats right with my world,
and all thats good to notice about this life and the day goes
on with positive energy.

When i have my left eye open - i see the brutal reality.
which is miserable, where i am just figuring out whats left
in this world. How much more of life is left.

my life is like always having one eye blind.
either the left or the right. either black or white.
full gloom or full bright. nothing inbetween.
never a balance between the two. perception of surreality.

sleep is bliss. both my eyes shut - a natural balance.
dreams dont have much of a bearing from what i remember,
but actually feel more interesting than my life is.

maybe a day will arrive where balance prevails with
my eyes open. a distant dream... from where i stand.

Nov '08

Born-Again Loser.

I was a devout loser in the formative years of my life.
Whatever i touched turned to dust.
Nothing went my way and i was immensely faithful
to my loser status. I got used to being one.
Then sometime later during my mid-twenties
i lost my faith in being a loser and started becoming
better at things, started enjoying life even.

I started having fun and life showed a lot of
potential and promise. Now in my thrities I am back,.
To being a loser. I have recovered my lost faith.
The old ways are back. I am back to my miserable self.

The good life was just a passing, delusional phase.
Here I am, The Born-Again Loser.

Nov 08

Napkin...trails

I discovered a lost part of my life
on a paper napkin from the past
a day that now i cannot recollect
but am able to relate with nonetheless

it was during the sunny days of my yonder
that now seem like a frozen dream
will the sun shine again in my life
i wonder and search for a napkin again

Somwhere in my future
this napkin could be the clue
to discover today again
and relive my ...... doubts

Oct '08

As i sit alone on top of a deadwood tree
overlooking the desert horizon
a voice asked me, "what are you doing"

Morisson was singin "youre lost lil girl"
and i just kept my sights on the precipice.
the figure in blue was walking towards the egde

A everytime, just in time, i jus kept shouting
some sort of nonsense and gibberish
she looked back and took a step back
and moved on along the edge

"why arent you running over and helping her
cannot you go and jus catch her and pull her aside
why do you keep shouting nonsense all the time
sitting here on this deadwood tree"

'i am cursed with a twisted tongue u see
its better to act dumb most of the times
only when she is to the edge do i say anything at all,
and even that is to just let her know am around
i will lose sight if i get down on the ground'

'it doesnt help her, cos she is seeking what i cannot see
nor can she, but we agree to disgaree
i wear dark glasses so my view is always gloomy
but if i try n take em of the harsh lights too much to see
it doesnt make it any easy'

"what are you waiting for?"
am waiting for the time when my reach is fine,
so i can pull her to a safe place, all i can do now
is wait n watch and shout out once a while

Oct '08

Its hard to remember forever all the momentous occasions in our lives...
What seems now as the most descriptive, emphatic, the most poignant
Is but a lapse on our thoughts at points in time... a glimpse into reality

Its so unsuspecting now... but in the passage of time... will it hold
I remember today as it is live... immense in its capacity to launch me into
A world of such sudden and surprising immediacy, my reactions so real

Not a calculated decision in making, or pretense of belief, or even thoughtful
Its just reactions, a series of actions based on pure instinct, animal in a way
Which enriches, hurts, humors, makes the pulse beat... moves the soul

I don't remember the most basic of things that i have gone through.
Early days when i lost my teeth, feel the pain now of my growing years
The taunts of my misplaced youth, the first time I glowed in the morning sun

As the waves swept into shore. and the wind braced my chin, what day was it
The first smoke of jealousy, the first dip into the money bowl, when was that
The first disenchantment with life, a giving up of the will, how was that

As the unfettered soul voyages on into the future, with hopes that's unending
And the reality keeps reminding us of our living mass that needs tending
As the mirages and realities keep merging within the twilight of our minds

Comes a tomorrow that makes it easy to check our course, if we are on track
Of what we conceived, and constructed in our minds, as real as it is unreal
Imagination and illusion collide in unison... and if this is not enough to laugh

...What is? ...What will be?

Tinglish - A Series in English with a phonetic Tamil Twist

1. Avarice - Denotes Greed - Specifically greed for the rice belonging to others (Ava' - Rice)

2. Very nice - raging rabid dogs (veri-nais)

3. Photocopy - freshly brewed replica of south indian filter caapi (photo - caapi')

4. Visionary - a deceitful and untrsutworthy person, a poisonous fox (visha-nari)

5. Audrey - the command for a dancing girl (aadri)

6. Murder - a man from madurai (maru-dar)

.... cud b contd

In suspended animation

what world do i live in
what dreams i see
what life i witness
and how is it such a mess

does it make a difference
if i am around or not?
but then how do i get the will
to go thru it and be still

why do i need to have
the feeling that i will miss
all the stuff that goes on
if i do take leave?

what is it that holds me back
to exist in my current mess
what is it that helps me pass
the days filled with emptiness

why do i hope for a better day?
why do i crave for a better way?
why do i live thru another day?
when in this instant i want to go away

what do i look forward to
when i just cant see
any damn thing positve
for the life of me

if this is not explicable
what is and what will be
is this hope or just misery?
the answer just beats me...

Exile in the Kingdom...

Life and its ironies. One cannot begin to fathom the cruelty with which life will handle you with its deals. We make plans for our lives and then life goes on to make other arrangements for us instead. Its twisted. An Exile is normally when one away from the kingdom, but then as my life would have it, mine was set within the kingdom... the Kingdom of Bahrain. My plan started as harmlessly and simple as possible. I wanted to make a fresh start, a new challenge, also with a few personal goals in mind. That was about 6 months ago. Now it looks like I am worse off, and being back at square one. In fact feels like I have been moved of the board game altogether...ejected.

I still remember when in early Feb I landed in Bahrain... Everything was different from back home and i was hungry to gorge all that i could see, to feel and adapt to the surroundings. Starting a new job and being in charge. Thrills down my spine every day. I was caught in a sense of euphoria in a way, looking at all things as cheerful and bright. A new office, and a new outlook, meeting new people on a daily basis, all polite and comforting and I was busy figuring out the way things could start working in my favor. Being a small city it was easy to get around, sitting in the backseat of a car with a driver at my beck and call. I was drowning in the new found pleasure of walking around in the evenings, long walks with an eye out for the unusual to stick out. The place was filled with fast and exotic cars, crowded and bustling streets, always with a sense of something happening. It was going to be glorious summer... I could feel it. The days were filled with active pursuits, in the malls, driving around getting a feel of the place, meeting people and trying to pitch in for business.

We are not always aware of when seasons change, when the pleasant chill becomes a spine chilling cold even before you realize it. It did, the atmosphere changed and so did my view of the place and everything else eventually. I guess we also start looking at things differently when it doesn't work out the way we expect it to. A couple of months down the rabbit hole and i realized that nothing had changed, at least for good. I was still doing the same rounds, trying to recruit people, trying to get business, trying to enjoy a static life that was not moving anywhere. My delusions of grandeur were getting to be weary. Even the politeness of the people was getting to me. Distant calls for help to people back home to get talent was going on unheard. I realized its futile in a way for help to come in from across the seas when from within the city people had given up. I was marching on alone without even knowing it. And things started turning sour to a point of ridicule.

The one luxury that kept it going was the availability of a vehicle and a driver. That rug got pulled from under my feet first. Driver left and so did the vehicle eventually. The one other soul in the office, the only assistance in person was the next to go. Soon I was staring at the four walls in the office, being immobile and the daily task was simply to get to office and back home everyday. It was solitary confinement in motion. I was free to do absolutely nothing in fact. Like a regimented fool i would walk about in the evenings, the same old dreary route day after day without a clue to what it was, that i was to achieve. The pleasant sounds soon turned to cacophony and all the things that used to look bright and cheerful just became an eyesore. Nothing had changed, at least from the outside, from within everything had changed in fact. I just kept the clock ticking, barely.

The dust storms in the city was a reflection of how clouded my mind was getting day after day. The city was empathizing with me in fact. Staring into the streets late in the night, I could see the cars and other vehicles busy on the roads. I was watching as if it was a parade on my behalf every night, showing off how active the city could get, leaving me far far behind, alone on a roof top. My resolve to go on had simply run out. I had run out of any ideas of survival... simply given up. It was almost as if i was banned to the heights of my abode and just allowed to watch the activities in which people engaged in, without having the chance to get involved, not to be included in the games that kids from the block played in. I remembered how helpless i could be, just like the kid from long ago. Life had come full circle again.

So, it is now, just one decision that I can make. Thats the only one in my hands to make even. To quit. And thats what it has come down to after six months of being in suspended animation. I quit. The exile in the Kingdom is over. Is the emirate jaunt to be of any difference? Will the sun shine there? I live in the hope that someday the meaning of my existence might start making sense, to me at least. And far removed from now, I might look back and see some sense in this Exile in the Kingdom even...

Fool...

One can fool all the people some of the time
And one can fool some of the people most of the time
But the one person you can fool without fail, all of the time, is your own self.

Remembrance of things past...

Recently I discovered a lost part of my life on a paper napkin from the past. A day that brings me back memories of eventful days... a thing of the past. When my head was buzzing with ideas and hectic was how life could be best described. Now i cannot recollect but am unable to relate with... such are the times. It was the napkin scribbled on during a pursuit of an idyllic afternoon amidst all the rush at a coffee shop near my workplace. A place where peace could be purchased for a while. Under the shade in the summer months with a cup of cold coffee or a smoothie, i could for a while hang back with friends or at least friendly acquaintances to spend the afternoon. A well deserved break for the hectic life that used to be at work. It was a rush - to take a break amidst the chaos, to find some solace in the quiet surroundings away from the maddening rush. The escapism was justified.

Today, as I read this half way around the world after 5 years - its a different story altogether. Its as if I am existing past my sell by date. Weary and fatigued, all the time. Solitude for which i would clamor, is now available in plenty. What once used to connote freedom is now just a feeling of being alone. I remember when the task would be avoid the crowd trying to bug my life out. Today, there is no one bugging and though it seems a relief it is not so. A mind deserves a break when it tends to get overworked.. there it is deserving and there is a need for a break. But what, when there is no work and the mind is inching towards atrophy in fact. The mind is numb, its idle. And its no place for a devils workshop. Whoever coined that phrase did not know what he was talking about. The prince of darkness could not survive in a idle mind. He wants something thats pulsating and throbbing with ideas, an active neuron network.

I look at the napkin with the doodles from the past, reflecting in the moments that are now frozen in my memory. It was a time filled with laughter, people in front of me laughing for some joke that was cracked or some quip or wordplay that I pronounced. Or friends who by my side would be joining me in laughter as we all watched a funny flick. Now though, the laughter is behind me, as though people are laughing at my back. Times have changed indeed... I am not able to join them in their laughter... in fact, I am not able to even see their humour.

Psycho TheRapist

- A Person who is supposed to listen to you to and help you figure things out, but instead ends up fucking your confidence.

Vanilla Sky

No sunshine in my life
No rains on my parade
No rainbows on yonder
No clouds of doubt even
No winds of change
No storm in the weather

Its all plain pale white
spread across my vanilla sky

TurnAround

We are extraordinary machines
capable of the impossible, it seems
but, a slightest wound to an imaginary spot
is all it takes to bleed from the heart.

Paralyzed, immobilized, disfranchised
cut away from the rest, for eternity
the rest is a journey to with no end in sight
for it doesn't matter wither goes thou

Aimless, soulless, pointless, homeless
castaway, we float, lost at sea
seeking, searching, from around us
when all we need lies within

we forget to live cos we had a fall
when we give in and give up
nether do we climb the wall
or move forward, we just crawl

if only we could see the reality
that nothing we do matters
in the time or face of eternity
we just might laugh a little

a lot much more than we do
in the course of the normal day
at life, about life, in life. Alive.
every step of our own way.

We live as OmniWhores...
taking anything and everything
theres nothing wrong and nothing ever right
as long as it makes us feel alive.

Doesn't matter if its life or death
Black or white or shades of grey
From dawn to twilight, we keep leeching
So we retain the sense of the times.

Plain speak is dead, the mask is always on
riled up in our emotions, we forget who we are,
mere existence is mistaken for living
portraying to the world, pretending and lying

Betraying the self, without realizing
our soulless laughter fills the stage
and as empty shells we play our parts
without a clue as to how long it will last.

Till the curtain calls come
well before we are done
and all is put to rest underground
as OmniWhores we shall move around.

They say every minute counts
months on months go by with nothing
and yet in an instant, everything changes
precipitious in nature, life is...

If every minute was eventful
would be less regrets and more to live for
skipping the days of nothing
salvaging the moments of truth

All the “nothing” is more than i can handle
and every second will count
in the crepuscular time of my life

From the pits of nothing
is born a wish, an attachment
just to belong into this world
of being a real self

Wanting it all to wanting nothing at all
is but just a step away
when every moment counts
in this vaccillation of my life...

White lies and convenient truths
spoken lines and forgotten times
the stage is cleared and our parts are played
with moving scenes in the backyard game

epiphanies abound...

The Solution

On the other side lies the answer
the final solution to the dementia called life
so far, yet a step away

a slit, a slash or a mere snuff
a step, or jump, whatever it is,
but a gumption from within
is missing in the piece

for the final solution.

All thats not possible
is waylaid because of hope
for a better day, a better way

maybe in all this
there is something to gain
I am missing the picture
all i can seek is the end
if i could just push myself
fast forward to the demise
and dampen out the surprise

The longer I wallow in this sty
of pity and emotional scum
easier it would be to float
than sink without a trace...

into the final solution

should i survive another day
look back and make sense
of all thats gone away
but not today, no, not today

the final solution is but a step away
so far, yet a step away

The repellent

His demeanor calm as ever
Now comes across as plotting

His smile affable as before
Now looks to be surly

Words as soft as in the past
Now like threatening whispers

The past that lingers on…

He sickens me, the very sight of him
His voice provoking and his presence acerbic

The memory that he is…
Tracing my steps back to a time when all was… has been

He has been there, now he repels…

What Dreams may Come...

All still and dark, when the hands started shaking me… in silence, Out of nowhere I was cajoled into moving, a tired walk with barely the feeling that I was awake. In the darkness the first thing I saw was a distant light, a street lamp maybe and as I approached, heard the sound of waves somewhere in a distance. I wasn't able to place myself. Except I was walking towards the light…seemed drawn to it.

As I neared the light, I noticed a figure - ladylike. Not directly under but slightly away with a scarf that made it quite difficult to place the face. She exuded the kind of calm that was unnerving. An odd time for a woman to be alone…as I thought this, I just couldn’t place the time. A gust of wind made its way from behind me pushing me slightly forward and the moment took to a sudden chill

Laughing out loud, she started walking away, glancing from time to time to see if was following her… it felt odd, like she expected me to. That is when I recognized the place - it was the beach and she was rushing towards the lighthouse. I could saw the beacon making rounds spraying its light against the fog. I couldn’t make sense of this at all. I knew not whether this woman was some lunatic on the prowl or some divine intervention. And why was I drawn to her….i couldn’t explain.

She reached the lighthouse, she started running up the stairs. I took after her, wanting to find out what all this was about. I reached the top landing and stepped out, only to find myself alone… I went around the place a couple of times and found no trace of the woman I followed. Suddenly from behind I heard shrill laughs and I felt a hand on my shoulders. I was attacked by surprise, I turned around to face my assailant, a crazy look on her face as she was laughing and the scarf still hid most of her face.

I struggled with her at the railing I heard a knock at the door, faint considering the circumstances... In panic I heaved and pushed away wanting to get away… in the process pushed her over the railing. I hurried over to see her fall, down the lighthouse as the beacon made its way around as usual, slowly but surely, the shrill of her voice disappearing into a distance… I was shaking and completely numbed by what had happened.

It took a while for me to compose myself and I retraced my way back, opened the door to see a lanky guy. He said “That was lady luck you just killed, if you keep pushing at her long enough, this is bound to happen. All she was trying to do was smile at you. I tried stopping you, but then I knock only once - I am opportunity. You missed your chance.”

I was dumbfounded, tired, weak… and kept staring at the spiral staircase. Now the only way left in life is down…

Stunted Growth…

Deep in the attics of my mind, hides a child from the old times

Holds onto forgotten past, refusing to step into today’s cast

For, child is the father of man, I do all that I can

To let him have his way, but he tends to leads me astray

What he wants unclear, his demands throw me off gear

Refusing his advances, I take my chances

He returns in kind, confuses my mind

His tantrums terrible, making me miserable

Altered conditions of existence, for minutes of sanity

I would let him be, If he could just hold his peace

So I could hold my own, without a frown or a moan

For rest see me behave, like an odd child once in a way

Psychoso(auto)matic

I seek within, bringing out the pain

Only to consume it yet again

Wallow in the darkest shades of grey

Dank cold making me shiver n pray

It stinks, the smell of my own misery

I can’t get enough, not enough for me

And all the blood that’s draining

Numbing, my senses not prevailing

A slight smirk at myself, when I see

A pity of a man formed from bile of a sea

No pain no more, I am feeling a naught

Will I ever stop, and regain some thought

It cannot go on; even the deep has an end

So I was told, but I don’t want to pretend

In a downward spiral, I shall wake wailing

At the edge of the void and return to the living

And when I wonder, what came over me

Can claim my defense! A plea of insanity.

Chameleon Thoughts

Oh the life so brittle, the mind so fickle
Desperate leaps of faith to live a life in denial

Ups and downs, hyperboles n troughs
The wayward wind blows me around

The hands of time creep up in the dark
Chameleon thoughts camouflaging the night

Will they ever seize these voids in me
Or suck me down to the depth of debris

Forsaken thoughts and misshapen deeds
Wanton and volatile the life that I lead

To find a time n day that is my destiny
Will this farce end, lead me to my final peace.

A voice…

Wish I had a voice
Calling out my name

With playful refrain
That I could chide n feign

Ask me how n why
So I could give it a try

Tell me how it feels
So I could feel it too

Speak its heart out
So I could feel alive

For in a senseless shield
I have lost all I held onto

What was once close to me
Now a vision on the horizon

Alas the question remains
Before I breathe my last… Will I ever hear my name?

Death becomes me

I woke up screaming.
Was dead by then.
Up in time to see myself dissolve.
My body passive and still

Like the dreams I had
of the dead waking up.
breaking this loop
of dreams that were real
only to find my life already dead.

Not a thing to do now
but roam a free spirit.
The spirit not alive
for it's already spent

It’s all surreal…
Be alive and dreaming
Or dead and still feeling

So confusing,
quirks of being alive and dead.
Just a dream either-ways,
surreal and so much real.

Stranger self

Don’t trust me
I am a stranger to my own self

Known you long
But is it long enough, to reach out in faith

What makes you feel
When I know not me, that you see me

Blind that I am
To pain that’s around, numb to the bone

Go far, stay near, little do I care
For, I am searching and seeking…….. Seeking my Self

…..

Hopeless thoughts

Hoping against hope

Flickers in the dark

Mirages in the void

Lapses of reason

Last but a second

In the face of eternity

Wishing a way out… a way out of reality

Life, fadin with time.

Life, sneaks up on us with some revelations from time to time. Hard as it was to digest, It did so quietly one evening, leaving me wondering about the past.

I was seated amongst a few friends from the past, but felt like a stranger. It had been a couple of years since this particular combination had sat around a table. Let alone have a conversation. What once used to be such absorbing and entertaining was a depressing affair this evening. For me...

I couldn’t relate to any of the banter, wasn’t contributing to anything that was possibly what others considered an engaging discussion on current affairs of their lives. If I was sitting with strangers, I might have been more interested. But I seemed to be now caught amongst strangeness, familiar and disconcerting at the same time.

When had I moved on? To what had I moved on? Or have I moved off the radar.

I couldn’t see the bonds that made me want to have my presence there. From the second moment, I had been plotting my way out. For what? Have I forgotten all that I used to feel? How these familiar strangers… (I say so because, they don’t seem to have changed at all) but my perception and relationship with them has changed.

I couldn’t relate to them anymore…. Had I used up all that these people could offer? Had I exhausted the moments, the time and sense that used to be ‘my life’ in their company? Had I forgotten everything? What is the reality… what I felt then or what I feel now? Maybe both? It felt like… because I felt I was wasting my time now…. It seems like I had only wasted my time earlier… a very disturbing thought. Everything was wasted time.

What was even more disturbing was this…. The longer I live, I will just have more to forget and question. Isn’t there anything to hold on to? absolute and unquestionable!

A dog’s life could be better

She had been threatening to come and greet us for quite a few days. Wearing a grey veil and refusing to smile she paraded silently. The grey darkened as the days went by… and finally one Sunday she opened her arms and showered her love on us. The Mumbai Monsoon was here, finally. And it poured for days…

As it poured, I was wondered if the city was crying for all that I had to witness. I have to admit, I am not a great fan of Mumbai city. And I am more than a little disturbed by what Mumbaikars claim to be their indomitable spirit. My take on its spirit is this “This city is ruthless and it will crush you, accept it and move on, knowing everyone would rather pretend to be blind to its apathy than do anything.”

A walk in the pavements of Mumbai will bring to life how crowded Mumbai is. Normally crows and cats tend to run way or fly as the case may be in the presence of humans. In Mumbai crows hop around and refuse to budge even when shooed. Cats can even get aggressive when confronted. They have nowhere to run. For a minute I was wondering if we are encroaching into their space.

I cannot really figure out where life begins and ends here in Mumbai. I watched a very emotional scene that left me bewildered. A loving father was toting all his devotion and love on his kid. Holding the 5 year old in his arms affectionately, rocking her from side to side. I watched the girl break into a billion smiles in one single burst. She was experiencing heaven… a great feeling… just that it wasn’t so… from where I witnessed it.

All this was happening by the sidelines on the pavement in a busy junction. Far from being a loving scene, it was highly disturbing as I saw the father and daughter bond amidst the thick set crowd on the pavement, sitting a few feet from garbage cans set against the backdrop of a flowing sewer. A parallel to how life flows in Mumbai perhaps. As I wondered whether the little girl would ever get to know the concept of “personal space”, mine was rudely interrupted by a eunuch seeking alms.

It isn’t anger that surfaces when I encounter a eunuch. It’s a mix of fear and pity. If the handicapped are the children of a lesser god, then eunuchs must be children of a deviant god. If all the helplessness in the world were to be bundled into a human form, the result is a eunuch. And Mumbai is a haven for them - an accepting society. Just then I shelled out a 20 rupee note to spare myself of the guilt of being complete, my driver turned around to tell me that the beneficiary of my money wasn’t actually a eunuch, but guys who dress up like one to extract money. Mumbai doesn’t seem to spare eunuchs too. I found it disgusting.

After a couple of weeks of loafing about in this expansively crowded city, I called it quits for good. Mumbai was never going to be an option. I just had this to say as I kicked off - “Goodbye, Good luck”

* All characters in this are real and unimagined, and in the event of hurting any mumbaikar sentiment, i am sure your spirit will sail you through.

Reality mirrors illusion

One fine day, half awake I was whiling away time. Sometimes the most simplest of things can leave you confused -

I moved my right hand touched my nose... a simple and perfect action. At the same time what I saw was - my left hand move and touch my nose. I had just seen the very opposite of what I had done. It was simply unbelievable. I waved my left hand and witnessed a right hand waving. I turned left, only to see the action being flipped again.

In the reality of watching my mirror, I was seeing everything the way it wasn’t happening. But then if am seeing them happen, how can it not be real? What was real and why is it at the same time an illusion. I just witnessed something that never happened. But it did. I closed my eyes – and I have a sneaky feeling the man in the mirror never did!

Is there life on Platform Number 4?

At 9.15 last night this thought popped into my head, staring at the desolate platform at Majestic Bangalore. Somehow the name is not in sync with the place. The railway station in Bangalore is anything but Majestic. Hailing from Chennai, where Central station and the surrounding areas are known for the characteristic look, feel, smell and touts – Bangalore Majestic, sadly has no such character.

The journey to the station took a while, what with my auto driver blaming the inching traffic and unwillingly being a part of it. As I got down at the station I noticed a huge crowd squatted outside the main entrance, spilling out from the crowd already inside which I encountered in the next few minutes.

I had the longest wait for a platform ticket ever. It gave me the feeling once again that Bangalore was actually a mutant spectator to its burgeoning progress. If you could call it that - Progress. The sheer inability to cope with the speed in which this city was moving was evident. The announcer was on time to tell me that the train wasn’t. And I was to receive the delayed train on Platform number 4. Now where have I heard that before?!

I managed to buy the platform ticket much against my instincts, which are quite adept at flirting with disaster. The cheap thrill of getting away with something unlawful was pushed to the back seat for this evening. The queue seemed never ending till I reached the window. And the ticket vendor with a silent nod pushed a platform ticket as though, he held a grudge against me.

The journey inside the station is as bad as out on the roads in Bangalore. Outside the potholes keep you on your feet, or otherwise. Inside the station the people squatted around will keep you guessing on which path to tread.

This is when it got weird. Of all the platforms in the world, ok Bangalore majestic, which are connected by a subway from the main entrance, only platform number 4 was left out. It’s actually an architectural wonder. As in I wonder who the fuck planned it in such a warped manner that only platform number 4 was connected to the main entrance by one lonely over-bridge.

I got there after a while. I had enough time to kill, but not a clue, how?

The moment I started climbing down to the platform from the overhead bridge, I could just begin to see how much of a dump this particular strip was. Barely lit, it had an eerie setting to it. Not one soul around. For a minute I actually turned back wanting to retrace my steps and wait in the main lobby till the train arrived.

Then, the instincts I was talking about – they were back. I stepped onto the platform. And then I saw still life, absolutely still. Watching as I stood on that platform, there was no movement, add to it no lights, no people, no canteens, no… there were two dogs and quite a few cartons.

2 Dogs were sitting atop the cartons - like they owned the platform. And they had nothing much going on either – they were sleeping! And I did what any half educated twit would do – let sleeping dogs lie. Waiting for the train, I stood there wondering if there was any life at all, on platform number 4!

A few minutes passed, and just as I was just getting used to the eerie silence, arose a disturbance that set the two hounds barking. I turned around shaken, to see a man rising from amidst the cartons, like a phoenix from the ashes. A drunk, disheveled and haggard, coughing incorrigibly, stumbled past me, and took the steps up. The two hounds in his pursuit barking their heads off.

It took me a while to compose myself and a few minutes later was laughing in relief as I saw a train make its way in from a distance… soon there would be more life on platform number 4. Possibly more than it could handle.

Jul 2005

Remembering the Future...

Times have been and gone
I have been and am
My mind, a wandering space
i go round and around
changes around me
takes me to places n spaces
I move along
living the moments, sweet and not
flip into the past
Call it deja-vu or imagination
I have been here
back in the future
have had these feelings before
thought these thoughts before
met these people before
like them and unlike them
And have braved these times before
and cried sometimes before
And now facing the present
I see what lies before
Great times of hope
And here I stand remembering the Future.

'06

A Digital Life

As the day passes and bytes gather
The pirates of the east connect with the west

Streaming lites and screeching soundbytes
And all that’s left to discuss is DRM and my rights

I crank my machine and blast into cyberspace
I am speeding at terabytes and into the fibred lace

The world wide web or is it the web of deceit
For all that I gather is a mass of nothing at the end of it

The info at our fingertips have depleted our memories
And our thoughts into minions with no identities

With anonymity for company I set out into the void
Now I need not be human and can live like an android.

Jun 07

Between the Devil n the Deep Sea

The sun was slowly dipping into the horizon. A reluctant goodbye. Sitting on the shores of Gokarn beach, admiring the golden embers reflecting in the waves that were threatening to eat the shores little by little, I was in a melancholic mood. Wave after wave enacting their desperation…

Out there far beyond the horizon lay the gulf… the mid-east… the mecca for the middle class India to make some money. And it suddenly hit me, the distance, the time lag and the reality of the two separate spaces in time…two very different worlds. And just as if to put a picture to my agony the sun dipped in…the twilight, now just a thin line of crimson on the horizon was fading into black.

Simmering within - a disturbance, an onset of depression. I would break in a while, and blow my fuse and find a vent. Just then I sensed him… the breeze was chilly, I could feel it in my bones. Just as I was contemplating burying myself within the sand or running out screaming into the sea, I caught his shadow on the ground.

One of his neat tricks, to cast a shadow after the light was gone. I turned around to see a very pale silhouette of figure in black. Of course it had to be black. It went with his profile and the mood he generally brought. And then slowly he broke into his grin. And there I was sitting on the beach between the devil and the deep sea. All worked up and nowhere to go.

“Again on the run, are we” he says with a smirk. I ignored that.

“So what brings you here?” I ventured.

“I saw depression setting in and I thought it was time for me to visit. What’s bothering you now and why this discontent?”

Don’t give me that Devil may care attitude was all I could respond. “You know very well what is in my head.” So do you plan to swim across now, he quips.

“What would you know about loss…!”

What did you lose he asks and I say “My sense of purpose”

He gave me a wry smile.

Devil: “Why don’t you just face reality and get on with life? Why do you want to fight and worry about what’s not in your control. Understand reality and move on.”

I blurt out rapidly “Well reality isn’t what I want it to be. And if it was in my control, there would be no point worrying is there. It’s obviously when not in my hands that I am the most helpless. And understanding is overrated, understanding doesn’t mean acceptance and acceptance isn’t easy. Reality is a bitch and so is life.”

He laughed out loud “Its all in your head, all these things that you imagine to be, its your own little universe you have created. Your happiness, your disappointments, all of it is nestled in that blockhead of yours.”

He continued “In the larger scheme of things it is just futile for you to hold onto stuff, time to move on… you think the world will stop cos you lost your sense of purpose. Time will sweep you to other scheme of things and before you know it you would have regained your sense of purpose in some new form. “

“What if I never find my sense of purpose” I explode.

“You will, or you will cook one up to survive…Don’t dwell too much on your imaginations….. sometimes your imagination can be much more fantastic than reality… life is much simpler than you imagine. Don’t complicate things… Its all in your head”

“So I am not supposed to take life seriously eh… Is that it?”

“No – You aren’t supposed to take yourself seriously, you aren’t that significant in the larger scheme of things” said the dark prince and merged into the night.

And I sat on the shores listening to the waves whispering “the mind can calculate, but the sprit yearns and the heart knows what the heart knows.” The waves went on relentlessly.

Jun 07, Gokarn

Hopes Crushed...

Sagging shoulders and a deflated chest
Drained of all hope in this aimless twist
Lying motionless, all bundled up

... a lone paper ball that missed the basket

Raindrops...

We, mere raindrops
fallen unto the ocean.
We the mass miniscule.

Labour into vapour,
travel the void high,
hot air fills and we collide

Create a thunder,
make a hue n cry
till our strains fill the sky

Full of our selves
we seek and destroy
the end and
thereafter the dive

raindrops to the ocean in this waterfall of life.

Oct 2006

Despicable... living to be truly hated

The icy calm stare is all it took
And the silence that put me out of conversation
The buzz is all around but words dont seem to come out of me...
I know, I am not wanted here - but it just seems like
I am not wated at all

Because I know I will be ignored. No one wants to listen to me.
Am amongst a crowd - but feel fuckin all alone
A state in which i am ready to clutch at straws and
even talk to scarecrows to feel any better.

The worst is...
I cannot show any pain at being wronged, because somewhere deep inside
I know I deserve the treatment meted out.
And then it dawns - what goes out comes back
- we shall reap as we have sown.

If its hurting now - its only because i meted out this pain not so long ago.
And in this pain and hurt is that glimpse of hope that in the near future,
when the storm blows out and peace reigns... I can look back and think
of having lived life... despicable

Dec 17 th 2006