As I lie on my back
And I breath out
Waves of quiteness
Wash over me
As I live on
I wander outside
Look at the trees
The birds
And I smile
Words
People
Ideas
And thoughts
Pass through
The panorama
Of my mind
Unattended
I feel the coldness
On my skin
The warmth
In my heart
Bereft
Of
Searing fire
The icy sting
The graceful ballad
It used to sing
Instead
There hums a trifle tune
A fire just went up
In fumes
And I wonder
If that's really
What I want
Is this me,
Am I mine?
Ill-equipped
Disinformed
Can solipsism
Really turn me on
I really don't feel
Too strong
As I feel my way
Against the wall
Framed
In the mirror
Is this
What it feels like
Being free
Being strong
Telling yourself
You are not
Wrong
Peace
All around
Utopia
It is found
And I wonder
If that's really
What I want
Is this me,
Am I mine?
But then
Why
Does this all
Feel so wrong?
The softness
The touch
The caress
The whisper
Your eyes
Your lips
Your hair
Your fingers
A throbbing heart
A calm conversation
The pain
Of simple reason
And I wonder
If that's really
What I want
Is this me,
Am I mine?
Do I
Mean to be..
Am I..
Are you..
Is our world
Really.. "Fine"?
The answers
Remain
A bit
Too far
But
The truth is out
For you to see
Remember
What I said
Was not always
True
I don't belong to me
I was
Am
Will be
Always
Part of You.
. . .
29 July 2009
25 July 2009
"It's Raining. Let's Go For a Walk."
Being born in July, it's like I found a twin. It always will be the sweetest experience. Undeniably. The ecstatic stinging drops dancing on you, the first ones of the season. Never miss them. Well, yes, even after they tell you about the acid in it.
My first memories of the rain would be going out on my birthdays.. with my father, in the front seat of the car. The wipers going swish swish on the screen, and me leaning ahead to catch up with the changing scene. The precious 3 seconds I could I get a clear view. And nearing a speed-breaker my father would gently push me back with his left hand as he steered with his right. I would look at him and smile.
It always rained on my birthday. And I loved it. Loved every bit of it. With the core of my heart. It would be around half past four in the evening when I'd step out in my birthday glory, all dressed up and shiny. Under an umbrella, I'd rush out to the car and settle back. Like a princess. In her glorious carriage. A carriage shaped like a pumpkin maybe. I was Cinderella. And my 12 O'Clock would last forever.
We would reach the bakery, get the cake. I would always get an extra slice of blackforest pastry to go, and eat it on the way home. All I would see out of the window was black and green. The rain soaked roads. And the highlighted trees. The fresh, crispy crunchy air hitting me on the face. Little droplets of happiness plopping on my arm. And I would burst out laughing in joy.
Then it was ooh-aahing in the balcony with now long-lost friends. We would stretch out our arms to get as many raindrops as we possibly could and then would rub it all over. Sprinkle it on each other. And stand grinning stupidly at the rain.
I was 6 and Dil Se came out. And then I was 7 and Taal happened. I fell more in love the rain. Knee deep. Sinking, maybe. The starting scene in Dil Se is timeless. I fall in love with it more and more, every time I watch it. Though probably I didn't understand much of it when I was 6, it still flicked on some swtich in me. And it has probably made me who I am.
I haven't watched Taal many times but it seemed to as if rain was there for half the movie at least. And it looked beautiful. It was all that mattered. And I live in a place where there's about a dozen trees for a house. And not many houses. Not too close together. The green jumps out of my visions and goes deep inside me. It's like love at first sight all over again. And again.
Life happened when I was 8. It was my new school. It is the most beautiful building I've ever set eyes on. Will always remain that. And it had a special connection with rain. I started school in July. The first year it opened. Nothing can tear away good memories.
I remember rain in a lot of places. At the lake. At home. At school. A number of places outside my city. There is a multitude of sounds and smells that say "rain". That say monsoon. They tell me that life is what I want it to be. I wish I could make a soundtrack of my life. The rain wouldn't stop playing all along.
Remember going back from my friend's house, walking on the street against a strong monsoon gale. Torrential rain slashing through everything. When I finally made it home I wanted to go back out again.
When I’ll look back at my life some decades later, walking in the rain would be an important part of growing up. Whether it was with dreamy, screamy teenage angsty music hooked on to my ears or with just the rain, it had its charm. It was mostly in the nights, when I wasn’t locking myself up in my room. Outside, it was cold, the darkness enveloping me, it was comforting. While I cried about a thing or two, sighed and then let it go.
I remember going outside at 3 in the night, and grinning at the sky like some maniac. I remember telling someone, “I like romancing the rain.” And I sort of of feel he should’ve been confused about if he should be jealous. But I don’t know.
A kiss in the rain. That has made its place in almost everyone’s “things to do before I die” list. I had it on mine too. But I’m not so sure now. Just sometimes. I’m scared if two happy memories would cancel each other out. But I truly hope not. I’ve never been good at math.
Lying in bed, listening to the staccato sound of the pattering rain. While I lay on my bed, and sighed and wished it went on forever. Not many sounds compare. Yes, the sound of someone’s voice in the night. Whispering sweet nothings. Like sometimes the rain does. It imbibes a feeling of hope. It’s like a little elixir, water, when you’re dying of say, scorpion poison, wandering around in a desert. A thousand miles to go. And you find an oasis. But sometimes it’s just a mirage and you can’t quite get there.
It’s unfair how people use the terms “don’t rain on my parade”, or something similar. It’s almost insulting. I also hate the sun after the rain. Well, I hope it doesn’t quite get there as not going aww when you see a cute puppy (yes, now THAT it inhuman).
Last week, there was English class. Torrential unbelievable rain storm. Window. Classroom. Rang bells. But someone was missing. Some things were missing. That sinking feeling of helplessness. As I wake up tomorrow I’d see the rain, I’d stretch my hand out, and live for another day.
It all ties itself up in knots, the insurmountable happiness, the tearing pain I connect with the raindrops. Going for walks with my dog. An occasional game of football in the mud. Catching crabs when they came out. Some in the garden, some in the backyard. But we always let them go back in the evening. For they had dinner to eat. A school to go to. Well, who knows what they get up to. What equals the “rainy happiness”.
People say and repeat the quotation, they walk in the rain so that no-one sees them crying. Well, I walk in the rain so I can stop crying. Crazy stuff. Crazy life.
I’d wake up tomorrow and go out and stretch out my hand and feel the rain. ‘Cause I know it will be there. And it all ends in the sweet realization that every year, around the same time, bringing the same ecstasy, there would be rain. There would be happiness and there would be hope. Even if no one or nothing else is with me. Even if nothing remains. It teaches me to live. It teaches me to love.
My first memories of the rain would be going out on my birthdays.. with my father, in the front seat of the car. The wipers going swish swish on the screen, and me leaning ahead to catch up with the changing scene. The precious 3 seconds I could I get a clear view. And nearing a speed-breaker my father would gently push me back with his left hand as he steered with his right. I would look at him and smile.
It always rained on my birthday. And I loved it. Loved every bit of it. With the core of my heart. It would be around half past four in the evening when I'd step out in my birthday glory, all dressed up and shiny. Under an umbrella, I'd rush out to the car and settle back. Like a princess. In her glorious carriage. A carriage shaped like a pumpkin maybe. I was Cinderella. And my 12 O'Clock would last forever.
We would reach the bakery, get the cake. I would always get an extra slice of blackforest pastry to go, and eat it on the way home. All I would see out of the window was black and green. The rain soaked roads. And the highlighted trees. The fresh, crispy crunchy air hitting me on the face. Little droplets of happiness plopping on my arm. And I would burst out laughing in joy.
Then it was ooh-aahing in the balcony with now long-lost friends. We would stretch out our arms to get as many raindrops as we possibly could and then would rub it all over. Sprinkle it on each other. And stand grinning stupidly at the rain.
I was 6 and Dil Se came out. And then I was 7 and Taal happened. I fell more in love the rain. Knee deep. Sinking, maybe. The starting scene in Dil Se is timeless. I fall in love with it more and more, every time I watch it. Though probably I didn't understand much of it when I was 6, it still flicked on some swtich in me. And it has probably made me who I am.
I haven't watched Taal many times but it seemed to as if rain was there for half the movie at least. And it looked beautiful. It was all that mattered. And I live in a place where there's about a dozen trees for a house. And not many houses. Not too close together. The green jumps out of my visions and goes deep inside me. It's like love at first sight all over again. And again.
Life happened when I was 8. It was my new school. It is the most beautiful building I've ever set eyes on. Will always remain that. And it had a special connection with rain. I started school in July. The first year it opened. Nothing can tear away good memories.
I remember rain in a lot of places. At the lake. At home. At school. A number of places outside my city. There is a multitude of sounds and smells that say "rain". That say monsoon. They tell me that life is what I want it to be. I wish I could make a soundtrack of my life. The rain wouldn't stop playing all along.
Remember going back from my friend's house, walking on the street against a strong monsoon gale. Torrential rain slashing through everything. When I finally made it home I wanted to go back out again.
When I’ll look back at my life some decades later, walking in the rain would be an important part of growing up. Whether it was with dreamy, screamy teenage angsty music hooked on to my ears or with just the rain, it had its charm. It was mostly in the nights, when I wasn’t locking myself up in my room. Outside, it was cold, the darkness enveloping me, it was comforting. While I cried about a thing or two, sighed and then let it go.
I remember going outside at 3 in the night, and grinning at the sky like some maniac. I remember telling someone, “I like romancing the rain.” And I sort of of feel he should’ve been confused about if he should be jealous. But I don’t know.
A kiss in the rain. That has made its place in almost everyone’s “things to do before I die” list. I had it on mine too. But I’m not so sure now. Just sometimes. I’m scared if two happy memories would cancel each other out. But I truly hope not. I’ve never been good at math.
Lying in bed, listening to the staccato sound of the pattering rain. While I lay on my bed, and sighed and wished it went on forever. Not many sounds compare. Yes, the sound of someone’s voice in the night. Whispering sweet nothings. Like sometimes the rain does. It imbibes a feeling of hope. It’s like a little elixir, water, when you’re dying of say, scorpion poison, wandering around in a desert. A thousand miles to go. And you find an oasis. But sometimes it’s just a mirage and you can’t quite get there.
It’s unfair how people use the terms “don’t rain on my parade”, or something similar. It’s almost insulting. I also hate the sun after the rain. Well, I hope it doesn’t quite get there as not going aww when you see a cute puppy (yes, now THAT it inhuman).
Last week, there was English class. Torrential unbelievable rain storm. Window. Classroom. Rang bells. But someone was missing. Some things were missing. That sinking feeling of helplessness. As I wake up tomorrow I’d see the rain, I’d stretch my hand out, and live for another day.
It all ties itself up in knots, the insurmountable happiness, the tearing pain I connect with the raindrops. Going for walks with my dog. An occasional game of football in the mud. Catching crabs when they came out. Some in the garden, some in the backyard. But we always let them go back in the evening. For they had dinner to eat. A school to go to. Well, who knows what they get up to. What equals the “rainy happiness”.
People say and repeat the quotation, they walk in the rain so that no-one sees them crying. Well, I walk in the rain so I can stop crying. Crazy stuff. Crazy life.
I’d wake up tomorrow and go out and stretch out my hand and feel the rain. ‘Cause I know it will be there. And it all ends in the sweet realization that every year, around the same time, bringing the same ecstasy, there would be rain. There would be happiness and there would be hope. Even if no one or nothing else is with me. Even if nothing remains. It teaches me to live. It teaches me to love.
12 June 2009
(No)Two Ways About It
She is an artist
On a trapeze
Swinging
Singing with
The summer breeze
Her life on lease
Dancing
In the winter freeze
She muses
To let it go with ease
Or act on a
Caprice
The lingering release
To be vindicated
To be set free
Or give in to the
Tease
Of dreams that please
With selfish ease
Or plunge into the
Unknown depths
That can't be seen
But still
Sprakle and gleen
Mind dazed
Looking for
Sounds that appease
Craving for a place that's
Serene
Above her the ropes
Careen
Swinging back to
Routine, in between
The place in which
She has always been.
On a trapeze
Swinging
Singing with
The summer breeze
Her life on lease
Dancing
In the winter freeze
She muses
To let it go with ease
Or act on a
Caprice
The lingering release
To be vindicated
To be set free
Or give in to the
Tease
Of dreams that please
With selfish ease
Or plunge into the
Unknown depths
That can't be seen
But still
Sprakle and gleen
Mind dazed
Looking for
Sounds that appease
Craving for a place that's
Serene
Above her the ropes
Careen
Swinging back to
Routine, in between
The place in which
She has always been.
27 May 2009
Another Classroom Story
They hurried up the stairs. Rushing each other. Grumbling, they started cursing their luck as they headed towards their new class. This was messed up, they had been put in another section. This messed everything up big time. This was not what they wanted at all.
"What the.. WHY does this happen to me!? That section was good enough. It was terribly, terribly fabulous.", Shania said, stomping her feet on the ground. She looked like a blown up version of a little girl throwing tantrums. "What.. now I can't even see him. Ever. A whole different floor. That ain't fair.", she said, pouting.
"Whoa now.. I guess it's for the better. Now you won't get distracted. Right?", Whitney questioned her. She knew how her friend could be. She had to learn how to adjust to stuff. "Uh.. well, you know I had friends there. Old friends.. but what the heck! We'll settle. Calm down, calm down."
There were some changes to be done with their schedules. They had to be given a timetable that had to be scheduled with the respective teachers. It was a hassle. It was a problem, indeed. The librarian was usually the incharge of all this and when she screwed up and it wasn't so unforgivable, they had to oblige. And hence, after a week of wandering around the campus due to consequently, "free" periods they had to head to their new class. How long can fun last?
Stopping a few feet away from their new classroom, Whitney pulled Shania aside and said, "Look, don't be too sad. I'll talk to the headmistress. To see if she can get us back to the old class. Just endure this class for a day or two." Shania nodded. "Well, that's okay. I'll try."
She pulled herself together but broke down again. With sad eyes, mimicking crying she said "But I want to be distracted.. I want to be distracted, or else how am I supposed to study?" They grinned at each other.
"Look who's inside. We better go in now."
"It's their class teacher I guess. She's new. Supposed to be pretty strict."
"Whew.. here we go!"
They went inside and looking around Whitney saw an assortment of faces. New and old. Most of them she didn't know and that's saying a lot, she had been in the same school for well, quite a long time. Some old friends smiled at her. Some nodded. Some waved out a friendly hi. Shania pulled at her sleeve. The teacher had turned to talk to them. She ignored, still scanning the room while Shania jabbered on.
The teacher nodded, "Yes, I know, take your seat. We'll talk later." She turned back to the blackboard but then turned around to face the girls again, "Oh, and welcome to the class!" She said brightly. And returned to her work.
They found an empty desk at the extreme right corner, the front bench. No surprise. They sat down quietly and discreetly looked around. Yeah, most of them were new. That's no fun. No fun at all. A single "new kid" is fun. Even two. But here they were.. feeling as if they've come into a completely different school. Now THEY felt new, instead.
Time went on slowly. The front bench wasn't so good.. nah. They couldn't even look to see who was in their class. Whitney looked out the window. It was July. There were rainclouds in the sky. The grass was a beautiful green. The world seemed fresh. She felt Shania leaning on her. She turned to her and she said "Whitney, how much time's left for the bell to ring?"
"I have the time but I have no idea about the timing."
"Ahh.. you've been in this school for like a million years."
"So what? You've been here.. for like a few thousand yourself."
"Shut up." Shania stuck out her tongue at her. And turned around to ask whoever sat behind them. Whitney just resumed her nature appreciation.
"Uh.. excuse me? What's the time?"
She sensed him looking up from his work, clearing his throat, he said, "11:15".
Shania turned back around. She sat still, tense, and then grinned. Foolishly.
The bell rang just then. The pushing and shoving of the desks and chairs drowned out the teacher's voice. And she was forced to just leave. Some idiots made a run for the door, others hung around. Chatting and eating.
"Did you see that.. did you just see him?" Sensing no response from Whitney she said, "The guy behind us, you know. Wow, that's cute! He's cute. I mean like, oh-my-god." She looked ahead of her, grinning, looking at nothingness.
Whitney smirked, she shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back into her chair and calmly replied, "Well, yeah, and you come to know that now?"
Shania looked at her, wide-eyed, mouth open, hands coming around to push her. Whitney smirked. "Oh, you're slow." Easing her legs out under the desk, Whitney sighed.
She kept sitting where she was. And Shania got up as the Guy-with-the-Time headed towards the door. Someone called him and he looked back. And he smiled at something. His hand moved towards his neck as he stretched it and turned again towards the door.
Almost out of the class, he paused, turned around as he stepped out into the corridor, and looked at Whitney, just a tad too long. His eyes, just a bit too bright. His smile just a tad too wide. With a spring in his step, he looked down, glanced again at her and moved away. Whitney's heart skipped a couple of beats.
And she could almost see the cartoonish hearts floating around Shania's head and she had closed her eyes and was smiling like a doofus. Whitney shook her head and leaned back a bit more into her chair and lay her hand across her heart.
"What the.. WHY does this happen to me!? That section was good enough. It was terribly, terribly fabulous.", Shania said, stomping her feet on the ground. She looked like a blown up version of a little girl throwing tantrums. "What.. now I can't even see him. Ever. A whole different floor. That ain't fair.", she said, pouting.
"Whoa now.. I guess it's for the better. Now you won't get distracted. Right?", Whitney questioned her. She knew how her friend could be. She had to learn how to adjust to stuff. "Uh.. well, you know I had friends there. Old friends.. but what the heck! We'll settle. Calm down, calm down."
There were some changes to be done with their schedules. They had to be given a timetable that had to be scheduled with the respective teachers. It was a hassle. It was a problem, indeed. The librarian was usually the incharge of all this and when she screwed up and it wasn't so unforgivable, they had to oblige. And hence, after a week of wandering around the campus due to consequently, "free" periods they had to head to their new class. How long can fun last?
Stopping a few feet away from their new classroom, Whitney pulled Shania aside and said, "Look, don't be too sad. I'll talk to the headmistress. To see if she can get us back to the old class. Just endure this class for a day or two." Shania nodded. "Well, that's okay. I'll try."
She pulled herself together but broke down again. With sad eyes, mimicking crying she said "But I want to be distracted.. I want to be distracted, or else how am I supposed to study?" They grinned at each other.
"Look who's inside. We better go in now."
"It's their class teacher I guess. She's new. Supposed to be pretty strict."
"Whew.. here we go!"
They went inside and looking around Whitney saw an assortment of faces. New and old. Most of them she didn't know and that's saying a lot, she had been in the same school for well, quite a long time. Some old friends smiled at her. Some nodded. Some waved out a friendly hi. Shania pulled at her sleeve. The teacher had turned to talk to them. She ignored, still scanning the room while Shania jabbered on.
The teacher nodded, "Yes, I know, take your seat. We'll talk later." She turned back to the blackboard but then turned around to face the girls again, "Oh, and welcome to the class!" She said brightly. And returned to her work.
They found an empty desk at the extreme right corner, the front bench. No surprise. They sat down quietly and discreetly looked around. Yeah, most of them were new. That's no fun. No fun at all. A single "new kid" is fun. Even two. But here they were.. feeling as if they've come into a completely different school. Now THEY felt new, instead.
Time went on slowly. The front bench wasn't so good.. nah. They couldn't even look to see who was in their class. Whitney looked out the window. It was July. There were rainclouds in the sky. The grass was a beautiful green. The world seemed fresh. She felt Shania leaning on her. She turned to her and she said "Whitney, how much time's left for the bell to ring?"
"I have the time but I have no idea about the timing."
"Ahh.. you've been in this school for like a million years."
"So what? You've been here.. for like a few thousand yourself."
"Shut up." Shania stuck out her tongue at her. And turned around to ask whoever sat behind them. Whitney just resumed her nature appreciation.
"Uh.. excuse me? What's the time?"
She sensed him looking up from his work, clearing his throat, he said, "11:15".
Shania turned back around. She sat still, tense, and then grinned. Foolishly.
The bell rang just then. The pushing and shoving of the desks and chairs drowned out the teacher's voice. And she was forced to just leave. Some idiots made a run for the door, others hung around. Chatting and eating.
"Did you see that.. did you just see him?" Sensing no response from Whitney she said, "The guy behind us, you know. Wow, that's cute! He's cute. I mean like, oh-my-god." She looked ahead of her, grinning, looking at nothingness.
Whitney smirked, she shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back into her chair and calmly replied, "Well, yeah, and you come to know that now?"
Shania looked at her, wide-eyed, mouth open, hands coming around to push her. Whitney smirked. "Oh, you're slow." Easing her legs out under the desk, Whitney sighed.
She kept sitting where she was. And Shania got up as the Guy-with-the-Time headed towards the door. Someone called him and he looked back. And he smiled at something. His hand moved towards his neck as he stretched it and turned again towards the door.
Almost out of the class, he paused, turned around as he stepped out into the corridor, and looked at Whitney, just a tad too long. His eyes, just a bit too bright. His smile just a tad too wide. With a spring in his step, he looked down, glanced again at her and moved away. Whitney's heart skipped a couple of beats.
And she could almost see the cartoonish hearts floating around Shania's head and she had closed her eyes and was smiling like a doofus. Whitney shook her head and leaned back a bit more into her chair and lay her hand across her heart.
25 April 2009
On Summer
Balmy afternoon breeze
The scorching backyard stone
The ants on the mango tree
The sound of music
Running free
Happiness filtered through the leaves
Of the laughter shared
Of hearts
Loved and bared
Waking up
To the TV noise
To the AC buzz
To the rememberance
Of yesterday's stuff
Kisses and hugs
And sticky mud sludge
Crabs and lizards and mongooses
Wandering around, or don't even budge
Vivid, alive and sharp
The stinging rain
A running train
Bridges on rivers
A lonely forest trail
Of cricket
And running barefoot
Of stinging splinters
Shouting in rejoice..
For the ball, jumping outside
Welcome sweat and
Accidental blood
The cold water
On the skin
The cold water
Sizzling on hot earth
Badminton rackets
On the shuttle cock
On a lost frog
On someone's head
Swinging short
The melting icecream
Burps and gurgles
And sneezes that hurt
Laughing and falling down
In the dirt
Bruises, cuts, scratches
Stupid bets and cricket matches
Winning, losing, strutting
Blaming and then hugging
Pepsi breaks, the world cup
Shouting sprees
Getting locked in bathrooms
Throwing water, looking at them freeze
Hide n' Seek
Chewing gum in your hair
Groping and tugging
Torn shirts
Made up swears
Changing the score
After the break
Cheating and being fair
Shooting water into the air
Jumping three stairs at once
"Spins and fast and bouncers"
The sun in our eyes
Sneery smiles
Lucky shirts and shorts
Wristbands and socks
Charms, bracelets and
Chanting for your team
Sitting on the bottom stair
The crunch of dry leaves
Dust
Inefficient prayers
Blue jeans
Faded and threadbare
Plans to win, psyche them out
Breaks from the sun
Wiping away
Filthy perspiration
Clouds and the rain
Going insane
Buzzing honeybees
Hiding in the garage
Catching balls with "the" panache
Soaking wet
Mango stains, bamboo canes
Noisy planes
Cars in deserted lanes
TV shows, children's prose
Harry Potter, the guy in the cloak
First love, getting close
Just a few books more
Garden hose
The grass yellow, green
Blue petals, white roses
And the red poppies
The adorable tiny muddy stream
Sprinkled grass on the head
Tattered seat of the swing
Scratching your knee jumping up ahead
Winning and then crying instead
The corner of the black railing
My side of the bed
Mattress on the roof
Reading 'til the day's dead
Calling out to the songbirds' call
Smiling neighbours
Staring, looking at the insects crawl
Pulling up the garage shutter
Learning to ride,
Getting it in your stride
Going the fastest
Acing the speed test
Cycling, whistling, singing
Discovering kingdoms
Letting the streets lead
Clouds in the sky, they're so mighty high
They make shapes and then they break
Circling birds of prey
Letting your mind go astray
Absorb the heat
Go off to the land of sleep
Have a sweet, sweet dream
Midday
Running on the street
Midnight
Torches under the sheet
Singing TV jingles
Squirting lemon on your tongue
The tingle
Then sucking on your fingers
Dangling feet from the ledge
There are bird-nests in the hedge
Jokes on one another
Looking at the wings flutter..
Are they the sparrows in the trees?
Or mine.. could I have it again, please?
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