cruising for a bruising

Parasitic , really

2012-02-09T01:09:00.000-08:00

What stupidity looks like:
A little like blindness
(How can you not see?)
A little like immobility
(From here.To here. Its such a small step.)
Akin to stalemate.
(Neither this move works nor that.)

What your impatience with it looks like:
A little like blindness
( He's doesn't see my question.)
A little like immobility
( Is there no other road to walk me down?)
Akin to stalemate.

Say,how do you work?

2011-11-13T10:34:00.000-08:00

“But what difference is it going to make? knowing all that?
What’s the use if there’s nothing you’re going to do with it?”

The little you would get stern orders before we went any place –“Don’t touch anything. Its not yours to fiddle with.”
You, head bowed, a little subdued, not very sure what was SO wrong in a little bit of …those mysterious things looked down from shelves so fetchingly….

That’s why family homes were so much more of a relief. They didn’t really mind when you picked up the old toaster, the new radio, the nodding doll ,the cuckoo clock and took it apart.

Oblivious to the sighs of exasperation and resignation you persisted in sending your swank new toy car hurtling down the flight of stairs.To see at what point it would shatter.

Our grandfather took up a contrary viewpoint.
“Why are you scolding him so much ?Its good, he should become an engineer.”
Indulgent smiles went around.That’s right.You would become an engineer.Build bridges and machines.

Big word.Engineer.I don’t know if you knew what it meant.I don’t know how much it had to with why you were compulsively prising open covers.

Funny that I should have to explain to you now.

Your Thing of Beauty.

2011-10-23T05:07:00.000-07:00

You earned it the hard way.
Paid for it,
Signed documents,
Set up sentry.

But I can steal just by looking.

Ceremony

2011-09-27T01:55:00.000-07:00

You were grieving the loss of your mother
You told us on Facebook.
It was a confusing matter of nettiquette
Whether or not to 'like' the status.
I followed the beaten path
And decided in favour of it
But prudently added "Be strong.She is in our hearts"
To balance it out .
You know.

Rajasthan

2011-07-19T01:09:00.000-07:00

The child was looking on with puckered brows at his mother watering the plants. Serious,in his vest and knickers and surnburnt littleness.

The jet of water caught the sun before it broke against leaves.

She glanced back, noticed , and with an impish grin turned the hose on him. Like a startled animal he squawked and ran leaving wet footprints on the ground which simmered and disappeared .I remember dipping my finger into sandalwood paste and drawing such footprints towards our idols on days of pujas.It meant-A god has been here.

But suddenly the game changed.He padded back ,curious, what?she won’t come after me? Another sudden drenching .Giggles.

In retaliation he tore off his clothes.Darting around,now gloriously naked,the water would not leave him be.His mother behind it,relentless and laughing.
What a young mother,I notice.

I will turn off the tap while brushing tomorrow.
Let’s leave some water for others to waste.

You Know Poet

2011-02-16T12:41:00.000-08:00

You know poet,
Once you're done
So much is no longer mine.

I feel.
Then think-Why isn't this just what...
Then feel,
But self consciously.

You know poet,
Once you're done
You lose me my voice.

I speak.
Then retract-Why,it's so commonplace!
Then speak
The commonplace.

You know poet.
This,
MY afternoon
Is sun washed?
No...drenched.
I try soaked
Then give up.

You know poet,
Once you're done
So much is no longer mine.

Confession

2010-11-03T11:21:00.000-07:00

Sshh...
But last night
I crouched in the bathroom,hidden
Cutting my wrists,gouging for blood.

Sshh...
I shoplift on Sundays
Lacy lingerie,nailpaint.

Whisper in my ear,
You would find me as interesting
Even if I hadn't done these things,
Wouldn't you?

My friend,
Sshh..
But I pretend.
I have no secrets
Really.

Logic

2010-10-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

All men are mortal.

Socrates is a man (right?)

So, we killed him.

Everyday Epiphanies

2010-07-05T04:07:00.000-07:00

The Sunday market experience was a little bit odd. A little bit problematic.

So we were driving into what seemed like a perfect little slot in the parking area.But just as the car was nosing itself in we noticed a stray dog serenely sitting there.
Honk honk!
Some more serene sitting.

HONK HONK!

“Saala.”Said my father .A single word of wonder and annoyance.What’s the bugger thinking?This is our parking space innit?

It is ,I suppose.(What are my premises?)

At any rate,once in I stand around near the maachwala(fishmonger).He was chopping fish.His job and I’m no Maneka Gandhi.The Bengali in me sees fish solely as something to be eaten.
And he clinically proceeds to put the mouth of this fish on a blade and efficiently delivers a blow with a block rendering it lipless.Quivering edges where a mouth had been.

Funnily enough what popped into my head at this moment is the sophisticated argument I’d been reading in the morning regarding the exact meaning of human rights.I realized that the implicit assumption had been that rights were an inalienable part of life on this planet.Not something just thought up to expend superior intelligence.

Long-Distance

2010-03-21T05:08:00.000-07:00

Sudden gleam of happiness,
When I think-So far apart
But still 'in touch'.
Those telephone conversations...

Those telephone conversations
Where I indulge your new life
And you mine.
Then we
Disconnect.
Beep beep.

A Different Question

2010-01-29T23:46:00.000-08:00

A gaggle of (primarily female) relatives.
I refuse to be apologetic
And defiantly declare
My child is ..well..not normal..
Anguished inquiries about-the specific medical term,
How? Which specialists do I intend to consult?
How did the mother-in-law react?
Will I give up my job?

To think you lifted me from this simply
By asking me his name.

Reason-fail

2009-12-29T23:06:00.000-08:00

Mid-argument I stall,
Suddenly weary
Do I care to pierce that hide?
Your pigeon like,globular tone
Of being amply justified.

Unscientific

2009-12-06T05:45:00.000-08:00

Freezing point is 0K.

Like hell it isn't.

On Success and The Pliable Man

2009-12-06T05:34:00.000-08:00

I came.

I saw...

I concurred.*Shrug of shoulders*

Domestic

2009-12-04T22:20:00.000-08:00

Considering,
How many rants have been
washed down the kitchen sink,
And how impervious the clothes
Are to my rage.
I thought.
Why not.

So,to tell
I sat you on my lap.
(Like when I spoon Cerelac
Into your mouth?)
And if nothing
It was heartening
When you knit your little brows together
(Pausing to think?)
Before you said-
"Gloop".

P.S-Im getting worried.Noone is getting what I write any longer.If this makes sense,do tell.

Scratch The Surface

2009-11-27T03:31:00.001-08:00

So sophisticated,
For I hold my luggage
Fingers lightly hooked.

A little anxious-
Should you pull?
I will clasp.
Should you tug?
Then I'll clench.
And see those fists of steel.\

p.s-Acha,for clarification the should you is to be read as in case you.Otherwise it makes not a darned bit of sense.

Growing Up

2009-11-09T02:07:00.000-08:00

When you you look back at your been there,done that life and wonder-what the fuck for?

I Could Not Be A Song

2009-10-20T00:25:00.000-07:00

A pellet poem
I could not be a song.

Like a snap-shut valise
I should not be a song.

Mood-unfriendly
Don't care to be a song.

Reticent,fairly
Do I dare to be a song.

Because We Are Not Trolls

2009-10-16T04:58:00.000-07:00

Because we are not trolls
(Yah!
Wah?
Movup.
*Grunt*)
We make life difficult
For ourselves and others.

Descriptia

2009-10-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

Light filters in through
A filigreed arch and
Rose petals curl,shrink and die and
Reflection smears move
On floor like glass.
There are ants crawling down
Rough hewn bark and
Inkdrops stain the parchment dark and
Wine bubbles rise to the brim.

So?

The Return

2009-10-12T01:14:00.000-07:00

When I got off my flight I had to keep my toes clenched.Held down.Because rationally thinking running back home would in fact take more time.But rationally thinking when have I last thought rationally?

At any rate went through with the waiting for luggage and dumping into trolley deal.Once done,broke into a run.Happy even to see the Grandfather,grinned beatifically at him(a man I’m glad to see you smile )All balls but it was just reflective of a general inner feeling.Could keep up a happy prattle the entire length of the journey .

Then .The gate.Brand new but home-ish.Mummy-ish,baba-ish.

Safety be damned,luggage be damned-er I leap out mid drive and soar up on a lift.Then following the hum of conversation into the house I see I’m in.No one else does though.The purohit continues with his pujo and the people sit around munching on proshad and the like.

The lack of acknowledgement was one thing but what followed was one up on that.

Joey!

Eesh!Ki kalo!

Ki mota!

Chaan koroni?

You need a haircut

But the thing about home is through all this I’m expected to discern that they’re glad to have me back.

The Song Mechanism

2009-10-04T00:58:00.000-07:00

The first time
It left deep tire marks;
Breaking,splintering
In its way.
And the light that shone through
The now clear places,
Was good.
And the wind when it hit
This new bareness,
Was good.

Then why stop?
Once more and once more
New grooves were etched.
Some running roughshod over the old,
Some compliant .

But now stop.
For the grounds is acquiring
That well known hardened shine.
For it rolls over
Now vastly blunted nerves.

Some Poetry

2009-09-13T01:00:00.000-07:00

Some poetry
Flows from fingertips.
And some from knuckle
Tightening
Whitening
Rage.

A Gift From Me

2009-08-18T03:44:00.000-07:00

I should like,

To sneak into your room
Unnoticed,and place it on the table.
Leave it lying carelessly
In tune with the rushed clutter.
Then suddenly one morning
Detect it in your hands
With the look of a thing
Of which
A natural posession has been assumed.

I should like.

Very much.

A For...?

2009-08-07T23:17:00.000-07:00

Scene I
A teacher is sitting on an armchair and correcting papers.
Gets up, utters an expletive and angrily thumps the entire set on an adjacent table.

Man: Why Mary?
(louder)Why MARY for crying out loud!?
Thirteen compositions written by brown children of the subcontinent and…
Every single one of them abounds in Johns and Peters and Marys
Of course there is the adventurous one who has included a Tara.
And look at this one (picks up an answer script).Her own name is Subalakshmi but the cat she writes about is called Emily.
Why this fixation with anglicized names?
Or, for that matter, anglicized anything?...

Woman:I don’t see why you’re getting angry. It’s quite natural in fact. Think about it -most of the names they’ve seen in print have been western ones. So naturally when they have to write they draw on their literary vocabulary. Hardly fair to blame the children. I’m sure you’ve done the same yourself as a child…

Man:*snort* You seem to be taking for granted that most children nowadays read. Wishful thinking…
No. It’s the system.

Woman: What system?

Man: Social …education... all of it.
Education actually…
*sits hunched on his chair frowning about something*

Woman: You academics can’t let up an opportunity to blame the system. The root

Man:*cuts her short*You just said it. The root. Of course! The root. That’s where the trouble lies…

Woman: Maybe I’m just stupid but I don’t know what on earth you’re on about…

Scene II –
Kindergarten school. A Montessori teacher is introducing the alphabet to some children.
The teacher walks in.

M T- Sir, you? All of a sudden?
Oh. Is one of them related to you?
Children, where are your manners. Stand up and wish sir!

[Children stand up in chorus and wish.]

Man: Good morning, good morning.

M T-Yes sir, so you were saying that one of them is related to you..

Man-I was saying nothing of the sort. Never seen any of them before.

MT-*a little confused* Er… Then…What…

Man-Will it be a problem if I just sit around and watch for sometime?

MT- No, no sir. Of course not! You are most welcome... anytime *still a little confused*
But may I ask why…if you don’t mind sir…

Man-You could I suppose but I’m not sure I know the answer myself.

MT- Oh…*even more confused now*

Man-You carry on, carry on. I’ll just sit at the back and watch.

[MT walks hesitantly to the board, picks up a chalk and traces an A on the board.]

MT- A, children, makes the aah sound.
A is for? *Traces an apple on the board*

Chorus-Apple.

[A crashing sort of music which sounds in the mans head.]

MT- B. This makes a buh sound. So B is for? *Traces a bat this time*

Chorus-Bat

[Same music again]
[Teaching continues in mime]

[Suddenly the man stands up, almost involuntarily. Very agitated.]

MT-*Stops, a little scared*.Is anything the matter?

Man- Plenty. But never mind that.
Can I ask a favour of you?

MT- Of course.

Man-Will it be a problem if I take one class tomorrow?

MT- You? Teach them?
Surely you’re joking…

Man- No. I’m dead serious. Could you tell them that tomorrow there will be no formal class. So no books and none of those slates required. We’ll just…. play a game.

MT-A game?*looks at man as though he is completely insane*

Man-*unflinchingly*Yes.

MT-*effects this chirpy voice*.Right children tomorrow there is no class.

[Cheer goes around the classroom]

MT-But ..but ..that doesn’t mean you don’t come to school.

[A groan in chorus.]

MT-*continues oblivious to the reaction*.
Sir here wants to play a game with you.

[A sound in chorus which is equivalent to a- huh?]

Yes. So that’s all for today. You can go home now. But be here tomorrow or you’ll miss out on a lot of fun…

[Children troop out as does the man. The MT is alone on stage packing his things and muttering.]

MT- Nuts these chaps are. Absolute nuts. Like I don’t have enough on my plate as it is without him coming around wanting to play games. Anyway let him try and handle these children for one day and he’ll never want to see them again in his life…

Scene III-
Man walks in with with a football.

Man-Good morning class.

Chorus-good morning

One child-Sir we’ll play football today?

Man- Not exactly. Wait a bit, I’ll come to that.

Alright. I’m Mr _____.And the game that I’m going to play with you ..is actually not as much fun as football.*grins*
This game (like all games teachers promise) is basically to trick you into studying.*Grins again*

[Class laughs.]

Right so this is how it goes.You’ve been taught I’m sure several times what sound each alphabet makes.Now all of you will have to form a circle and I’ll sit somewhere near the centre.Now when I mention an alphabet I’ll suddenly throw the football at one of you.And that person will have to catch it and at the same time tell us the first word that comes to his mind beginning with that letter.Do you get it?

[Children nod a little uncertainly.]

Okay so lets begin.

[They form a circle like he said .

And he hold the football in his hand looks this way that way and suddenly shouts A and hurls it at a surprised kid. The kid manages to catch it but shouts out- achaar!

Everyone bursts out laughing.]

Man-*Grinning widely*Why are you laughing?Thats excellent.*gives the kid an approving pat on the head.*
That’s exactly what I want you to do.Forget the associations that you’ve been taught for now.Just say the things that you’re comfortable with.The stuff you’ve grown up with.Saying..seeing.They’re just as good as any apple or bat.So-
B!*And hurls it another kid who involuntarily yells-banyan!

[Roar of laughter from the class.]

Brilliant brilliant.
Okay next person ..I’ll skip some alphabets so don’t think up your answers from before.
So E!
[And the kid who catches it says- Yuck!]
That’s actually with Y.But good.Good anyway..

[Music begins and and this game is played in mime.]

[Pages of a calendar are turned.Have to somehow symbolically show that he tries similar methods with children of all ages in the school]

.

Scene IV-The room of the first scene. Man and woman again.

Man-They can be untaught.They can be untaught. I knew it!

Woman-Oh so your plan is a brilliant success?Now all the children wear their indianness on their sleeves..

Man-Yes.Almost all.There were of course some who couldn’t overcome all their original teaching..But I’ll work on them.

Woman-Should you?I mean work on all them.I really wonder…

Man-What do you mean?Anyway…Those children need to learn who they are.Be proud of their true identity…Not acquire a borrowed one.

Woman-If a child doesn’t typify his country does it necessarily mean that his identity is borrowed?

Man-You always see problems when there aren’t any.Now what the hell do you mean this time?

Woman-I’m not very sure yet. But something tells me…. you’re right..you’re right .But not entirely so…

Scene V-

A classroom. A boy is standing there with the football in his hand.
The professor looks annoyed.

Boy-But that IS what came to my mind spontaneously.

Man-But that is... that’s unnatural. Why should an Irish word come naturally to you?I’m assuming it’s the new thing in your peer group.
(Boy tries to say something but the man rushes on)
I’m not saying that theres anything wrong with the language,But should you…and reason this out yourself..give up all that you’ve got behind you for this..

Boy-You mean my father..and Sanskrit..and everything..

Man-Yes!!Do you even know ..
Of course not.You children never realize the worth of what you’ve got.
Students from abroad spend their entire lives here to learn the language ..hang around just to be tutored by him.
And *sighs* then there’s you.

Boy-I don’t like my father.

Man-*exasperated*How is that even relevant?!

Boy-It isn’t?Maybe not.
My nanny was Irish…one of my fathers *a little bitterly* students actually.When I think of my childhood its mostly her I remember..*smiles reminiscently*
My peer group has nothing to do with this.

Man-Alright.I concede.But I still think that you shouldn’t make it the language of your mind because at the end of the day..well..it doesn’t belong to you.

Boy-*innocently*Why?

(Uncomfortable pause)

Man-*flustered*Wha..What do you mean why?
*changes tone*Listen.You do realize that its important to think about who you are..and for that you NEED to know where you come from..Believe me.

Boy- I am thinking about it…

*looks a little pensive* See… I .. know what I like.. I like butterscotch icecream and samosas… and I’m thinking about what I want to do… Physics or maths as my major…
as in... which I’m better suited for..

Man-*again impatient*Yes, yes. But what has that to do with what we’re saying? We were talking about roots.

Boy-Why? Is it really more important than…
If I figure out which it is –physics or mathematics-I think I’ll be a little more sure of who I am.
*thinks for some more time*
Says yeah to himself.

[The man is silent this time. Says a loud But!yet doesn’t continue…
Goes and flops on a chair.
Then suddenly gets up and announces- I’m going home.]

Scene VI

The original room. Woman is there again.
Man walks in frowning, looking very confused.

Woman-Is anything wrong?

Man-*shrugs*I don’t know ..I don’t know..

Woman-Would you like to talk about it or would you rather just have dinner straightaway?

Man-I need to think…this thing over. I don’t even feel like sitting down to dinner with the family now... Can you just rustle up a pasta or something and give it in my room?

Woman- Pasta?

Man-*uncomprehendingly*Yeah. That should do. It’ll save you trouble too, won’t it? And why are you smiling?

Woman-*continues to smile*No, nothing. I’ll bring it for you.
Then goes out of the room.

[Man stands on stage watching her leave.]

End play.

P.S.Shalmi since you wanted to see.

P.P.S-Credit (discredit?) ought to be shared with Jit who apparently wasn't just pretending to think.

Breakup Story

2009-06-06T09:10:00.000-07:00

I am leaving you house,forever, and its okay if you don't miss me.Even if you unconcernedly make new memories with strange people its fine by me.For it is but natural that others should love you as well.

I just hope they notice how your walls and ceiling have the power to let be.How they don't crowd thoughts in so they are left jostling for space.How they don't shame you into inaction with their hauteur .I wonder if it left any mark on you when my mind grew along your walls.

Wouldn’t it be a pity if no one again realized that the corner of the verandah where the crows mass at dusk is a perfect hideaway. That cushions fit in there with a peculiar snugness and the ledge ends at shoulder height exactly.So you can sit and look out.The ghost of an eight year old me with mango juice dripping off my chin onto the pages of Famous Five will haunt this place always.Or maybe one a decade older in striped nightshirt and tousled hair.

I hope they appreciate your endearing gawkiness.The look of having grown too tall too fast.Awkward and yellow, looking around unsurely at the surrounding not-so-high-rises.I promise a mental hug everytime I pass by on the flyover.

They will of course never know about the blue sofa under the charcoal sketch.For both will be gone.The latter to a warehouse subjected to some exchange offer.Goodbye to you too.Perhaps you don’t know it but you held me through fears and fevers silently whispering-Don’t be stupid child, it doesn’t happen that way.

Forgive me for I never learnt the what the switches on the board corresponded to.Utterly illogicall they were.Little bit of mystery in an otherwise completely unmysterious house they were.Please do be the same.

I’m leaving.Off to house with plasma TV and Mercedes in the driveway.And you un-posh house didn’t even have a driveway.And I,silly creature, didn’t even care.

There is a reason why I’ve never told you the above .You would feel perfectly uncomfortable with such extreme oversentimentality,look sheepish and not know what to say.So I shall tear this up and part on the usual terms.

*A stiff hug*
Bhalo theko.

Friends

2009-05-25T06:13:00.000-07:00

The night before the ISC history exam I got a panic attack.

"Shitshitshit."
Jayatri continued looking over chemistry formulae knowing I'd elaborate soon.
"Listen man.This scope says Nassers role in NAM is to be studied in detail
"Okay Joey.So study it in detail."
"Its two o clock at night!But thats not the problem...Khan had asked me to photocopy her notes on it and distribute it in class.There was a bandh or something so I thought I'd mail it to people later.."
"And you forgot?"
*Guilty look* "Ki kori ebar?I mean if a question on that is in tomorrows paper I will be crucified."
"Do something.Go to school early tomorrow and tell people whats in the note.They can then attempt the ojectives or whatever."
"I can't do that.I dont know anything about the NAM except what the acromym stands for.I left out the entire segment re."
"Wonderful.Then you will just get screwed tomorrow."
*Feverish nail biting* "I know..royally."
Then I performed my usual stress routine.Walked around the room jerkily.Took large gulps from the coke bottle.Desperately crunched on soya sticks then went to the loo.
After that there was simply nothing left to be done.All the while oblivious to the fact that someone else was trying to study in the same room.I mean I had a problem with a capital p, did no one in the whole wide world care??
Yes thats how selfish I can be.
"Jayatri..."
She shut her book and looked up.
"Joey stop freaking out!You'll do have choice in the paper,don't you?"
"Ye-es..."
"Besides it not your fault.."
Weak protest from me.
"She just shouldn't have given it to an irresponsible dumbfuck like you."

I'd always believed that friends were for JUST this.

2009-05-14T21:26:00.000-07:00

Load shedding.And something in me would be smiling inspite of the complaints.I'd sneak into a corner,lean thin shoulders against a rough wall and savour the silence-time.The mind would pick up a stray thread of reality and build around it.Any number of pleasant falsities.And nobody would interrupt with a jarring-Dinner khabena?It does not matter that the object in question was an idiot.I didnt know that then and rather liked my softly trembling reveries.
Of course it was sheer inexcusable nyakami.So when I look back I am filled with contempt and perhaps also ...a little envy.For Load sheddings aren't the same anymore.
I once tried to simulate the environment.Placed myself next to a window and played some suitable music.Then waited paitently for it to happen.Nothing happened.The moon looked down at me insipid,cynical.Feeling an utter fool I tore the earphones off and flung the blasted thing away.
Idiot me.

2009-04-27T11:02:00.001-07:00

Buddy is a handsome dog.His back arched like a bow ,head proudly set,listening.I thought he led a charming life.Rushing after sparrows,reclining on sofas .But primarily I envied him for he has not been socialized.No stupid inhibiting ideas drilled into his noble head.
So trots up and tucks his head into your lap-I want love.
And positively bawls when he’s excluded from some activity or locked out.
Drools when you eat around him –You’re not going to eat all of that yourself ?...
When a guest arrives he goes straight for the crotch.-Wuff Wuff.Nice legs…
And it need not be advertised further that he pleasures himself ,most unashamedly, in public.
So here I was thinking he is the ultimate flower power ,free love, free-spirit.

Then it happened.

A wire was strung across the door and he on the other side.I’d originally locked the door to keep him out but he butted his head against it repeatedly till the glass nearly shattered.So I opened it ,expecting him to come bounding in.But no.Tottering on uncertainty he lifted a paw but retracted hurriedly.Whined some then began barking loudly ,insanely.Like the wire like a sparrow would take fright and fly away.
To be honest at this point I was head scratching confused.Intrigued.For gods sake I had seen the damned dog leaping over a couch then why this wire?
But then he started sniffing it.The entire length-What are you strange thing?
I might have imagined it but I thought I saw him arching back ,preparing to soar past the hurdle but at the last moment he sank back .Then went and sat in a dark corner ,whimpering.
Jayatri arrived then with the bhelpuri and walked in over the wire,without a thought.
“Did you study?Where’s the dog?”
Who now came bounding in ,having watched her cross it once,flooded with relief.

Poor devil.He’s not all that different from the rest of us.

And Always

2009-04-24T04:16:00.000-07:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
So I climbed a yellow tree
And ate an apple.

My head,nestled,peacefully
On the warm leaves
I looked up, relieved
But two roads diverged in the blue sky…

Foreign Territory

2009-04-13T09:31:00.000-07:00

Almost voyeuristic
The way I parted the chintz curtains
And crept into your hearth
To watch you play Snap!
What is Snap?

Something that fair haired children play
Who pat each other on back
And say 'That was very plucky chum.'
Who eat beef cuts and tongue.
What is tongue?

Is it that tongue.
Of Disney love and bubblegum?
How big is Disneyland?

Funny that I should know
Their rivers
And who designed their flag.

Aimless

2009-04-12T23:18:00.000-07:00

I've become a walking-addict.

And everyday for hours I go nowhere and back.Buy myself a coke on the way.Chilled coke which you can feel going down your throat in the heat.Sweltering heat may I mention.And I don't even notice much on the way.Its really quite mad.
It happens like this.With a faint buzzing in my head and i wear my shoes and start out.Then the energy of the buzzing in my head.So loud I can almost hear it.Then the energy of my pace.Pulsating heels which begin to hurt.But never mind.
At the end of an hour or two it begins to settle down,a calmer version of the brownian motion sort of thing in my mind.Then I get back.
Am I unhappy?
I remember forrest gump did this when he was deeply unhappy and didn't even know it.
Am I too happy?
Otherwise its hard to explain the strange lightheadedness I feel.
Am I in love with the people on the street?
That's it I think.They who allow a strange creature to race along mid afternoon unquestioningly.No,I get none of the usual attention accorded to women out alone.
Everyone probably thinks I'm a boy.Who cares?
Being a nonentity gives you the greatest freedom.
I enjoy my freedom.

In Defence Of

2009-02-23T01:57:00.000-08:00

The show is over and the children have dispersed.Into little frocked clusters sitting dangly legged on plastic chairs.He appalled by yet another piece of the Barbie cake ,resolutely gulps it down.Its come to this now.
He slides the the purple robe off , puts the rabbit back into the hat and trudges home.

………………………………………..

The desks are polished planks of roughly hewn wood,the text books pages are bleached to blueness.The small windows have curtains.Its that kind of school.

“Bank clerk.,sir”

“Shop ..er..businessman sir, stationery shop.”

“Tuition-teacher”

“….pata nahi sir..”

“Eng-lish!”

“I don’t know,sir”

“You do not know what work,your father,he is doing?!”

………………………………………………

He painfully wrote out his name in cursive and shot a glance at his mother.He wasn’t supposed to talk during home-work time but.. “Mummy…

Where is papa?”

“Working .You study.”

“What work?”

She twisted the corner of her mouth in contempt. “Why don’t you ask him what work a grown man like him is doing.”

……………………………………………….

A long draught of cool water from a metal tumbler .Comfortable now in his vest and dhoti.
His son came and stood next to him ,holding the wide arm of the chair for confidence.

You’re tired?

“A little..*weak grin*..long day”

“What did you do?...No my teacher was asking ..I didn’t know..”

He looked at his son and it all came in a rush ,drowning the rest out.So he whispered ,softly,enchantingly-magic.

“Oh!”

Parenting

2009-02-03T03:34:00.000-08:00

While
Expertly arbitrating
And unthinkingly participating
In the cutting and drying process
Buoyed by what they've said
And heard said (Mama Knows Best)
Do they sometimes stop

To ask-But how should I?
Do their hands,suddenly uncertain
Drop by their side
When it stikes
-Why I still catch head-colds
And couldnt tie my laces
Till I was seven...

Modern code

2008-12-19T11:14:00.000-08:00

To Find My Soul is the real answer,
But one can't say that standing on sneakered feet.
One must ,hands in pocket,relaxed shoulders,
Cloud his eyes with nonchalance and say-
Just For Kicks
Man.

Immediate Concern

2008-12-17T08:08:00.000-08:00

Winter,
Quaking down the road
Muttering, 'useless... useless cardigan'
A soft warm cloud of auto emission
Touches,
Sooty,it thaws my frozen nose.
Dense,it curls around my feet.
Of course,*guilty look* it also causes
Global warming and all that...
Brr
Thank god.

Why it is how it is.

2008-12-08T02:58:00.000-08:00

The god who lives in the hollow part of the sky was looking down.

And he saw climbing up,dreams.Densely smoking or little dreamlets.Which with a sudden spiralling spurt fizzled out.And the leaping flames which burnt out all competition.Then there were the ghosts of dreams,dreams for the sake of dreams...The ornamental ones.And pretty little things they were too.
But what was awesome and what was amazing were the numbers.Oh,the numbers.The sweeping base of these vapours.Their everywhere-ness.
So he looked on entranced,bewitched.Forgetful.

"Ei,you're meant to be doing something."

"Oh(shaken out of reverie) yes.YES.But.. (looking down again,frightened)
can I?"

Leader

2008-12-04T11:26:00.000-08:00

Their swinging maces stunned
They looked at him in horror
Coward..

For standing in front of the
Roaring,churning crowd
He had looked up ,swallowed
And pronounced
-No We Can't.

In Sin.

2008-11-21T00:22:00.000-08:00

Once there was a couple
Who lived in bin,
Solemnly chewed the garbage
That people threw in,
And then,exchanging
A conspiratorial grin
They spat it all out-
Thoo!

At the concert

2008-11-17T10:56:00.000-08:00

He didnt get the music either
But sat caught up with the lights
Comfortable in his stupidity.

2008-11-17T10:21:00.000-08:00

My little cousin was sitting in the corner of a room and muttering excitedly.Eyes shining,face flushed.I went and queitly sat beside her.So she put her small face next to mine and whispered-
soosoopotty soosoopotty soosoopotty...
Magic words.With the glamour of forbiddeness

Oh dear.Whats all the fuss about?Its so easy to be happy.

so scared.

2008-11-14T22:36:00.001-08:00

I’ve seen her walking to school in the morning,Macaulay House skirt grazing the dust,mouth turned downward in perpetual discontent.I’ve heard she talks to flowers.
I’ve heard she kicks those classmates who tease her and stomp off to have tiffin in the loo.Alonely.
I know she perversely refuses to do all she must.Wont answer questions.Won’t do group work.Will sit cross legged and barefeet in class.Wont listen.
Will draw bizarre squiggles and call it ‘chader ulto dik’.
‘Why don’t you have any friends in class?’
‘They are all fool’contemptuous,resigned.
Then she plucks a ragged weed from the field-Good morning maam.;
Her parents are preparing her for the JEE.Her teachers are hammering in social niceties.She continues to kick.
Intelligent children generally look it.She looks like two scoops of melting ice cream.Two sloppy,tired globes.Two wary,cowlike eyes.
World,fragile,handle with care.

Curious

2008-11-08T09:33:00.000-08:00

What is life?

Why is there so much hatred in the world?

Does God really exist?

Is physics truly not poetry?

Who thought up this trash?
This substite for questionlessness?
And passed it down
From generation to generation
As dummmies guide to thinking person...

Who made such a hash
Of the idea of profundity?
And made keywords of
God and Life and Stars.

Someone filched my wallet.
Who picked my pocket?
I want to know
So I can snatch it back
And give him a piece of my mind.
Filthy,stinking thief..

I want to know
In a furious, urgent way
That has nothing to do with
Making impressions.

ps.dear god,please let this not be obscure again.

Style

2008-11-04T02:46:00.000-08:00

The horse trotted in
With a dainty clip clop
Dust sent spinning
In neat rings
Pearly drops clung to its brow

The lid presses down
On a gathering warmth
The spout arches tortuously outward
Vapour has dimmed the swollen,
Scalding surface.

2008-10-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

These modern day political thinkers are so ugly.Big tomato noses,that ungainly way of slouching over the table and those protruding opinionated elbows.Fighting it out on THE BIG FIGHT,raucous voices turning shrill in excitement.Hideous, really.Even the polished public school types.Just as bloated with opinions.Besides,they're ugly too.
Yet thoroughly enviable.
Its as though they've plunged their hands into a dark abyss called 'the world',coiled their fingers around the place and come away with a more a more active understanding.Just a little corner perhaps which they often cant see beyond.But what of it.Sit back and watch,these corners sometimes coalesce into a chunk of clear knowledge.
No,I have no great thirst for knowledge but clarity is just..sexed out.
For here we have the modern world i.e rushing pushing mess and modern people churning up -humour,anger,ambition.And all this has bumped into each other and rattled about and made ONE BIG SCRAMBLE.Now what?
Don't we need them now?To get under the skin of things,establish links and burrow towards the truth.Ever so often they're wide of the mark.Oftener they get warped in the process.But they help.Never the less.
Poetry does the same sometimes.Lights up unlikely spots with a flash.Of course the treatment is much more irreverent,cocky almost.But in essence,similar.
I think I want to be an understander.Is that a career option?

P.S-This is a little off the cuff and heavily unedited.Apologies.

Story

2008-10-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

He really had a disgusting mind,obsessed with reality.One grows up,acquires an imagination,a sense of humour to make it matter less and less .But no,he was one of those men who never grew up.

He was one of those men who wore spectacles just for effect.Bifocals which he didnt need.Of course the sky seemed attached to the ground at an odd angle,curiously unaligned.But he liked it just so.It seemed to him the Correct Perspective.

When he shut his eyes it made no difference.He carried the clear imprint of chairs and tables and coffee mugs into the territory of his mind.

To get on with the story..
What story?
Did he have one?

Once,but it dried up and cracked in the wind.

Theory

2008-10-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

I've been developing this theory that we actually do possess a sense apart from the five obvious ones.Nono not sixth sense as in instinct but a sort of added awareness that cannot be explained.I'll tell you what sparked of the idea.Ogling.
I was.But distinctly from out of the said persons line of vision.Luckily my reflexes are moderately good so I managed to give the impression that I was looking through this person when he suddenly turned round.But really how can anyone possibly tell?
What has seriously hampered my knowledge on these lines is that noone stares at me.
But even the other day-my mother was lying down in her room and her eyes were shut and I padded in bare feet(so no noise or anything)and she said-'joey, ki hoyeche?'
Huh?
Thoroughly intrigued I told dadabhai.And for the rest of the Sunday afternoon we experimented with our mother as the guinea pig.First we sat around on the bed and spoke in loud whispers about how we were going to tickle mummy and pull her hair and poke her tummy.We know she hates being tickled and people playing with her hair but that still doesn't explain how mad she got.You know ,first squirmed about and then yelled-WHY ARE YOU SO SET ON RUINING MY ONE FREE AFTERNOON?I mean really,not like we'd actually done those things.and here was a person who can sleep through a cricket match,oblivious to all the noise and excitement.
Very weird,don't you think?
So anyway ,the experiment was a grand success so far but our final innovation fell flat.We took this laser pointer(you know,the ones they use during presentations)and and from a distance we wiggled the light about on the underside of her foot.No reaction.Very disappointing so we tried some more times.More disappointment.

At any rate I have not given up on my theory.Ask boy school debaters,they'll tell you-It is the exception that proves the rule.

Glitter

2008-10-06T11:24:00.000-07:00

Pujo is a tremendous pain in the ass.You can tolerate only so much on sentimental grounds.The Dhak jars my morning peace and what is all this talk of sharat kal and shiuli ful.All the seasons have merged into summer and a protracted monsoon.And the shiuli gach is entirely missing from the kolkata horizon.
And what do we have in its place?Cheap shiny finery.Fizz that hurts your breath.And those god forsaken puja pandals.
'Ota dekhtei hobe.matir bhar diye koreche'
'Ha.ar jeta muger daler khosha diye?'
What next? chamberpots?
Pandal hopping I will simply abstain from henceforth.Its a very gramer lok thing to do.
There.I've said it.

Once Shared

2008-10-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

It was the middle of the night and we had just snacked on these delicious tomato cheese sandwiches.At twelve thirty .Don't ask.Pinky Miss had got it into her head that we (poor dears) were being starved having all those vegetarian meals.So she sneaked into the kitchen ,midnight , and made some.
The thank you card was ready by then.So we presented it to maam.She ,rather ungratefully laughed at my note.Not surprising actually .Shit silly it was-
'PINKY MISS WEE SHALL MEES YEW'
Shreya had started this whole deal of speaking in a weird ass bangali accent and we 'leawe'd 'on e zetplen' the whole damn time.
The sandwiches polished off we hung around grinning sheepishly at each other for some time.Same thing on everybody's mind but someone had to voice it.Rhea and Samriddhi were out of the question.Prudes of the first order.So, who do you think?(.)
Hoisted myself on a stool and slid out the slim volume.WILD SEX the spine said.
Now this place was Mrs.Balarams study.She looked the model of propriety.South Indian.(You know what I mean..)Economist.Worked in the ministry.WILD SEX?!O dear me.
Sheepish looks gave way to uncontrolled laughter.Pinky Miss admitted that she'd been planning to take a good look through it herself,once we'd left the room.Which we were taking A HELL OF A LONG TIME to do.
Okay.Now picture this.Four girls and a teacher hunched over this book.(And what a book!)And the page is turned.
One goggle eyed frog on top of another meets the eye.Next page.Same story.Only this time its cockroaches.
Wild as in Nature stupid!Not..never mind what we'd thought it was going to be.
But what a supreme letdown.Quite glassy eyed with dismay.
And then we laughed.And how...stomach hurtingly,eyes tearingly.
Fond memories.They stay curled up in your head and strike again, another midnight, a year later with such urgency and vividness that you're forced to write it down.

To happiness.

PS.Did Mrs Balaram make the same mistake?;)

Megalomania.

2008-09-13T08:24:00.001-07:00

My blog is abounding in I's.

Politics

2008-09-11T01:38:00.000-07:00

Frank blue eyes
Look straight into yours
"I have made a mistake"-fearless,unwavering,
Consciously unconscious of effect.
You,in the crowd,turn to me
And utter that platitude with an approving smile.
"Thats right", I concur,
"Honesty is a rather good Policy"

Auden

2008-09-11T00:04:00.000-07:00

"As we run down the slope of hate with gladness
You trip us like an unnoticed stone
And just as we are closeted with madness
You interrupt us like a telephone"

I shall continue to love you forever even though you're too dead and gay to care.

2008-08-20T06:03:00.000-07:00

When I was little I wanted to be a writer.It was one of my candyfloss dreams.I still do,more than ever.But the spun sugar has turned stale in the face of 'career'.
Its a dirty word.

Second Chance

2008-07-21T07:25:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid ,you know

Of this Second chance

Of it's haloed gloating feel,

Of it being -The Opportunity To Prove..

I'm afraid ,for I've seen them

Come and Go

Sucking clean my what-might-be's,

My if-only's.

I'd like my life

2008-06-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

I'd like my life
To have a tamarind tang,
A sharp hard hitting taste.

I'd like my life
To be apple green
Minty,like the number seven.

I'd like my life
To be pencil heels,
Slim and tapering to a point.

I'd like my life
To be well cut jet
Which glitters as it catches the light.

I learn to live
With this soggy old sock.

2008-06-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

The Education System Is A Menace

Characters-4 children
The Pied Piper
Narrator

Scene1

Nar-Four children have run away from their homes and have followed the Pied Piper into the Promised Land.

C1-How much further is it from here?
PP-Not any.
C2-This is it?
C3-But theres nothing here…
PP-Why ,did you want anything different?
C2-Well..we imagined that the promised land would be more than a …room.(sarcastic)
PP-You can’t blame me ..Ive been peering into your minds everyday to see what it was that you’ll wanted..but there wasn’t anything to go upon.Absolutely nothing.
So I’ve brought you here..to..er..nothing.
C2-Fine but was it very necessary to make us walk for a month to bring us here?
C1-I’m completely worn out.I’ve left everything behind and it was no use…
PP-Now this is just strange..The only concrete instruction I get from you’ll is ‘far away’ and now it seems that you’ll don’t even want that.
And you(looks at C2).I really don’t see why you’re complaining.You said ‘no parents,no school,no history,no maths ,no rules.This ought to be paradise.
C1-But…(is near tears)
PP-Oh my god..dont cry..please…I never know what to do with children who cry..I promise..I’ll give you whateveryou ask for..as long you don’t cry..
C1-Whatever I ask for?Anything in the whole wide world?
PP-Yes!Just ask for it!
C1-Can I have some ice-cream?(hesitantly)
PP-Dear Lord!I try to be a genie and they make me a waiter.(aside)
Here..have your ice cream ..and don’t cry anymore..
C4-(Takes the ice cream and dashes it to the floor )
Don’t give us sops!You cheated us..Can’t imagine why we trusted you..
PP-You know..thats a really good question.I was astonished myself.I said-come away, and you’ll came away,We’ve been walking for a month and no one asked where we were going,no one even suggested where they wanted to go..Such heartwarming faith in me.
You’ll have been really good children….until now.
C1-We thought you would know where to take us…
PP-How will I know what you want?!
C1-Someone always does..
PP-Really?Someone always tells you what you need?What if they’re wrong?
C2-(smirking) Then we blame them!
C3-(angrily)and hate them.
PP-Is that why you’ll ran away?
C3-Yes..but I’m already regretting it.
Chorus-So am I..
PP-You mean you’d like to go back?!
Chorus-Yes!
PP-And not be far far away in this magic land?!
Chorus-No!
PP-Even if I grant you all your wishes?...
Chorus-Yes!
PP-Fine, fine.
But why must you’ll always yell in chorus?(annoyed)
C3-Dunnoe.Habit…
PP-Inexplicable you children are..
(everyone glares at him)
PP-But nice. very nice. of course. and since you’ll are sooo nice ..Surely you’ll will bear with this leetle problem..
Chorus-What problem?
PP-(tries to be stern)You Will Have To Stay Here Till The End Of The Day.I’ve already paid today’s fare. No Arguments.
C1-Okay…
(Everyone nods)
C2-But what do we do till then?
PP-I don’t know..whatever...have fun amongst yourselves.
(They stare balefully at each other for 10 seconds)
(looking helplessly at the PP)This is so boring…
PP-(Sighs, looks at audience) How did you’ll get this way?

Well rounded

2008-06-06T00:27:00.000-07:00

Rough edges sandpapered to a sheen
I roll along,directionless.

Eureka!

2008-06-05T00:00:00.001-07:00

Ran around in circles
and caught a thought by its tail.

The Little People

2008-06-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

I collect
casual compliments in a matchbox
And lovingly sun them sometimes.

To cross,
I go under the fence.

If I chance upon pearls of wisdom
I can take home only one.

I hate white light.
I run the world.

My favourite memory

2008-05-27T01:51:00.000-07:00

We all bundled into a car and drove away, suddenly one day to a new house .Like criminals on the run.
Joey!Joey!lift aache…that was my brother. Wonder and disbelief mixed.
Oh!said a shiny-eyed seven year old me. Where?
The door opened with a click of the key turning. Enormous and beautifully bare. No furniture. None at all. Even our toothbrushes hadn’t arrived. My parents were very harried ,had the decision been to drastic? You see, they had been wanting to shift for a week or so but couldn’t until someone bought our old house. Somebody suddenly agreed, but on the condition, that they shift in that very day. So we got pushed into this unnatural looking furniture less one.
The two of us walked around, very seriously, giving the place a thorough inspection. Three Mickey mouse stickers on the switch board, one red plastic football and a very long pen that came up to my waist.Treasure.The rest of the evening we ran around playing mock golf with the pen and the football. And generally being a nuisance and getting in everyone’s way.
Dinner time, no dinner. Bed time, no bed. Everyone else was standing at the veranda waiting for the car with our diner to arrive. After having tired of the game,we went there as well. Deluge of noise, lights.Climbed up on the railing to look down. Ant people and ant cars, rushing around ant like.
Eki!Namo!What are you’ll doing? Someone shrieked.Obediently,reluctantly,we climbed down.
At night, I tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Pinched myself occasionally to confirm that this was real.
For a day, the adult world had merged with ours.They had done what had to be done,with no fuss, without even thinking of the consequences. And you know what? It turned out allright.It usually does.

Painting

2008-05-27T01:49:00.000-07:00

My parents bought a painting off a struggling artist. He would like to take up art as a full time career but circumstances forbid. He has a family to support-wife, child, ailing parents and so he is forced to give art tuition to uninterested brats. For a regular income. His creativity, he rues is getting cramped and perhaps slowly destroyed…
The painting now hangs on our living room wall. It is an eyesore. The canvas, painted a lurid red shows a despairing woman. Her arm looks like a leg of ham and a couple of sickly yellow flowers are sprouting on her head. It symbolizes the life giving power of a woman, he had explained. A moon has also been painted on the red canvas, for aesthetic reasons I believe, there being no other.
In spite of all this, one could have been stirred by some indefinable quality in his work. One is not. He could easily have been gifted, wouldn’t have done anyone any harm. But that he most definitely isn’t.
Whoever is scripting our lives can’t be counted on for kindness.

2008-05-26T05:39:00.000-07:00

The Khadims showroom on Gariahat Road is finally being pulled down. It was sheer madness to have built it in the first place.
Initially I watched with indifferent curiosity a makeshift construction, on the lines of a puja pandal being built on an important commercial road. Then, to my surprise they slapped an imposing looking wooden façade onto it, complete with a glass door. Through it I saw a wall-to-wall carpet being laid out to cover the crude, uneven floor. In some days they opened it up to the public. The ordinary window shopper once within its carpeted, air-conditioned interior would never suspect its sturdiness. But this bothered me, more than I can tell, and every time I stood at my verandah and noticed the ungainly looking bamboo and asbestos behind the painted front, a vague resentment welled up.
Trade flourished through the summer .A liveried guard was installed at the door. Then it got hotter and hotter until grey clouds started massing in the sky. With the first kal-baishakhi the foundation-less building tottered. I pictured the roof flying off leaving the air conditioner and the guard standing foolishly behind and laughed.
They didnt,off course, when the same thought occurred ,so now its being dismantled. And I, irrationally enough, will miss it. For though an oddity it was rather interesting and one highly representative of our times.

Slaters

2008-05-22T23:54:00.000-07:00

Almost Heaven

On close scrutiny,
The backdrop was hand painted
And the haloes were tarnished
The detachment was too complacent
And perhaps a little forced..

But they didn’t know
And we are willing to forget.

Unnamed

2008-05-16T05:27:00.000-07:00

I tossed and turned
And timorously said
'maybe..'
to the deaf night.

2008-05-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

Saffron robe, string of beads, a vacant gaze-he ticked off in his head. The look had been perfected. He was almost genuine now, no one could tell the difference. Or so he feverishly hoped. A meditative pose was hastily adopted as a rather portly man cautiously entered the room. He ran a swift glance over the incense sticks, tarot cards and the other faith-inducing commodities.
“Er...I am Mr. Sudhir Bose. My friend, you know him, Jayanta Bab-”.
“Namashkar”.
“Yes, yes Namashkar.”
“Is this to do with your family?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
The astrologer merely smiled omnisciently.
The man then came and sat in front of him like an obedient schoolboy and fished out a couple of horoscopes from his pocket. Pointing a stubby finger at them he said,
“My son’s and the girl he wants to marry, hers.What do you think?”
He carefully scrutinized it and after a decent interval said the usual thing.Rosy future.It was a time tested principle-happy men pay more.
For a few moments the mans face crumpled in disappointment but then a cunning gleam lit up his eyes.
“Maybe so. maybe so. But you mustn’t write that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth…”
“No no”, he explained patiently, “’You must say that he will be very unhappy with her. I’ll pay you extra for that.”
“But why?”The Guruji asked, omniscient look abandoned, at a complete loss.”
“We don’t want him to marry her that’s why! Why do you need to know so much? I’ve said I’ll pay you ext-”
“You don’t have to. I won’t do this.”
“You won’t?!” he asked, puzzled in turn.
“No and you may leave this place.”
“But wait let me expl-”
“Now.”
It was an unmistakable command and so the man left. Rather flustered and muttering something about exasperating men of principles.

Career Plan

2008-03-28T02:42:00.000-07:00

Last evening my parents were having a heated discussion about their tax returns.Accounts,declare,black,white,ULIP,Mediclaim.Gobbledygook.
I hope that when I'm grown up I wont earn enough to have to pay tax.I hope that when I'm grown up I can live like Plath.Alone in a bed sitting room in some random country with complete bastard for a husband.Who writes phenomenal poetry.
Or divorced with two runny nosed children.Hard up.Snatching few hours of aloneness,early in the morning and writing snippets.Furiously leafing through a well thumbed thesaurus to perfect the rhyme till its time to make tiffin.
And walk to work (sub-sub-editor of local womens daily) and back and have aching calves at the end of the day.Have many friends who are interesting because they're so boring and write mean comments on human nature based on them.
Meticulously study Audens style as though it mattered.Conscientiously read Alice In Wonderland each night.
And then one day,just put my head in a gas oven and end it once and for all.Then a great critic will 'discover' me and say that I was brilliant but(sighing tragically) before my time..
I also think that none of this is going to happen.I dont have the figure for tragedy.
In all likelihood I will be an obnoxious Fabindia clad feminist who writes lame reviews in Anondobazar Patrika which nobody reads and quotes from them and thinks she is ever so smart.

adult-like

2008-03-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

A hundred years from now
They'll be worrying and waiting
A hundred years from now
They'll be duly contemplating
A hundred years from now
They'll still feel that they're
Skating on thin ice.

Commiseration

2008-02-06T04:44:00.000-08:00

The marble tablet
On a weathered grey gravestone
With moss clinging to its crevices
Says deeply lamented.
Sixteen schoolgirls peer closely at it,
Conscientiously read the name
And year of death.
"She was only eighteen when she died,
So sad, no?"
"Ya."

Wind

2008-02-06T04:39:00.000-08:00

Harshly wrenches the umbrella from your wet grasp
And laughs.

Eleanor Rigby,Father Mackenzie

2008-01-30T06:43:00.002-08:00

Haughty Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curd and whey
A lonely old spider
Came and sat down beside her
But she hastily scurried away

Thoughts shooting around inside his head
Like the three blind mice
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner
What’s the big surprise.

Hickory dickory dock
The hands moved over the clock
And out came the sun
But then there were none.

Nirvana

2008-01-30T06:43:00.001-08:00

Piping hot water beats down on neck and shoulders.Everything around dissolves in a haze of steam.Thoughts shooting around inside my head withdraw,the lazy insistent drumming hushes all other sounds.I concentrate on keeping myself within the circumference of the falling water.
Cautiously I reach out for the mirror and trace clouds on its misted-over surface with a wet fingertip ,which disappear in seconds.

2008-01-25T01:22:00.000-08:00

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

Today.

2008-01-09T06:30:00.000-08:00

Excuse me,
You've had your chance
Its my turn today.

Excuse me,
I've worked very hard
I think I deserve a raise.

Excuse me,
This seat is mine
Hadn't you better vacate?

Excuse me?
Why cheat me sir
I happen to know the fare.

Excuse me.
No,nothing is the matter
I just need my space.

Excuse me...
I'm tired.

...Maybe Thats Why.

2007-12-31T21:44:00.000-08:00

Wildly rushing
Spinning reeling
breakneck
freewheeling
Adrenaline
gush

Smoke harsh lights
Slip swiftly by
The heady feel
of an effortless slide.
The way down is fun.

2007-12-27T07:35:00.000-08:00

Apparently about the Inter-mart basketball match.

The weather was very nervous. It kept raining distractedly and we rushed back and forth to avoid getting drenched. It finally stopped but someone sitting in front fished out an enormous golf umbrella, just in case. The rest of us wiped the chairs and sat down, expecting to enjoy ourselves.
I don’t understand the first thing about the game and occasionally burst into excited applause when the ball reached the wrong side of the court.
Go LMG!!! As an afterthought, Calcutta!!
It’s a little difficult to cheer when the two competing schools have the same name.
My learned friend who last played the game six years ago but knows everything about it nevertheless, kept commenting on the bad technique of the players. She rued having quit playing…
“I’m sure I’m better than most of them anyway.” she told me nonchalantly.
I chose to believe her.

I think I stopped listening at some point because I was afraid the girls might claw each others eyes out all because of a dirty brown sphere.
“How undignified...” I said, nodding disapprovingly, spectacles slipping off my shiny nose. It had started drizzling again.
Then things began to get interesting. The tussle on the court moved closer to the umbrella. And deep inside of me I wished that the ball would land on top of the umbrella and bounce off a couple of wise heads. Just to liven things up a bit.
In the background some players waved their outstretched hands in a fair imitation of the vaishnavites.My knowledgeable friend informed me that they were blocking the movement of the ball. How annoying, why couldn’t they rush around a little more and slip on the wet court. So much more entertaining .After all you could laugh at your own not-too-well appreciated joke about vaishnavites for only so long.
Hazel, a classmate of mine is a very gifted sportswoman. Everyone says so. She kept on scoring until the whole game was rendered pointless. We were winning by an enormous margin. Though I forget by how much exactly.
This of course went down excellently with everyone in the audience and the swimming team of our school started cheering with renewed energy. Our swimming team concocts strange, incomprehensible cheers which the whole school repeats without understanding. There is one that goes ‘ek dina dina dina, ek dina ukumpa…’Apparently it means nothing at all but it never fails to annoy the opponent team as they understandably don’t like being abused in foreign languages. They retaliate with something about ‘fata poster..’ Samriddhi, captain of our debate team grins and applauds weakly and confusedly. I don’t believe she knows a single cheer.
Five odd players continued to rush around the court while the rest of the team just sat. I felt sorry for them. They had been practicing for months in the sun and were all tanned a lovely brown yet weren’t allowed to play on the final day. They must feel very silly…
My wandering thoughts were cut off abruptly by a loud whistle. The game was over.
I suddenly couldn’t hear myself. I was told that we had won.
So we went home.
Disappointing end to an otherwise interesting day.

MS Word

2007-09-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

The computer I am told

Cannot feel.

Yet it allows me to erase

All my mistakes

And start afresh

Without leaving an ugly stain.

Sometimes I worry

That machines will become like men.

Shock Value

2007-09-11T01:52:00.000-07:00

'Sometimes only one ball can prove you a man' announces zee sports.

Collective sigh of relief from those who have lost the other.

2007-09-11T01:37:00.000-07:00

Not so long ago even looking out of a window was a distant dream for me.Standing on tiptoe I'd strain to get my nose beyond the window sill ,but even then I didn't see very much.A little bit of the sky ,the dusty tops of trees and crows sitting sedately on the clothesline.Curiously beyond my grasp and beautiful.Now that I can get a comfortable view out of the window I only look down at the dirty grey water in the drains and the peeling paint of the neighbouring house and I am unable to capture the magic again.I suppose its all about one of those long words I didn't know back then-perspective.

Coffee At Nine

2007-08-21T08:52:00.000-07:00

A faded red tablecloth
With an unsightly mustard stain
Right down the middle
The heat is stifling
And even the plastic flowers are dying

I steel myself against
Glancing at my watch
Yet the seconds tick sonorously
In my head.
Two chairs, two coffee cups
He has not come.
Not yet.

Chin cupped in my palm
I pour milk
And coffee
And sugar
And stir
At the pace of the fan
Rotating laboriously
Beside the wilted potted palm.

The chair screeches
As I move it away
From the window
And sip the coffee
Bitter.

To care

2007-07-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

The windows were open
And the rain rushed joyfully
Into my room.
And with the wind it ravaged
My favourite bedside book ,
While I watched .
Ripping the pages,drenching them
While I sat,
Motionless.
Till it toppled over
An unrecognisable soggy mass.

Truth

2007-07-04T03:23:00.000-07:00

There was once a little girl .With nothing of the pleasantness and sweetness you associate with them. There was something quite revolting about her appearance, that too long nose and the thin cruel lips , so unsuitable in a girl of her age. Nobody liked her and there was good reason for that, I admit. For just when you thought you had begun to be comfortable with her, on the verge of a reasonable conversation, she reached out with her jagged nails , which never failed to hurt ,and viciously dug them into your skin.

It isn’t right to be too harsh on her, and I suppose she was alright from a distance, it was just the personal encounters which were never pleasant. They left you with a bitter taste in the mouth and a general soreness of being, a feeling of your heart having been wrung. Yet when poets wrote copiously about her unearthly beauty everyone agreed. Of course ,of course ,they said, righteously nodding in unison ,we never thought of her as anything else. She had a name this girl, but I shan’t tell you for then along with hating her you might begin to hate yourself and I cant risk that.

In spite of her wild ways she wasn’t immune to the general resentment surrounding her and she considered curbing her manners, making the changes everyone wanted her to. It had to start with trimming those nails and uprooting her teeth. Training that sneer out of her lips and taming her hair to a natural shape. Once it was done everybody was pleased, they smiled and patted her on the back, congratulated her on a job well done.

But they couldn’t help thinking you know, of how things were still not alright.Of how much more monstrous she was now, how hideous and repulsive .They could come to no decision about which way they preferred her. I don’t think they ever will.

A short story

2007-06-29T07:10:00.000-07:00

They swum about in the water ,tightly packed,skirting the seaweeds by a gentle movement of their fins,those ambiguously coloured fish ,which might have been orange or silver.One out of them one was a friend of Johnathan Livingstone, or so she liked to say.They weren't really on such intimate terms but she had once watched him during one of his great flights and worshipped him ever since.

Wanting desperately to be like him she relentlessly practised till she was weary to the bone and then practised some more.That sort of devotion is bound to pay off and soon she could swim backward ,with her tail pointed skywards, spinning around in circles all the while.All very complicated and useless of course but she enjoyed it and by then Johnathan had become something of a legend and she being his follower had to be given some amount of grudging respect.Besides, she was undoubtedly quite talented for a fish of her age.

All was going well but that itself is an ominous sentence and we didn't need to be told that SOMETHING was soon going to happen.It did ,but maybe we shouldn't call it a tragedy for after all some good did come of it.Hidden qualities were ,no matter what you say, discovered.

Old story,a fisherman caught the school in its net and they all died.but the tale of our fish doesn't end there.They were loaded into refrigerators till they looked glassy eyed and coldly dead and were then sent off to markets from where they were bought by families for lunch or dinner ,or whatever.At one dinner table the family took their first bite of our special fish and then spat it out.All hard and tasteless, they said.And so it was thrown away.The other one which turned out to be delicious had once been a silly little fish ,who simpered and giggled ,was nice but not very bright ,her companions had always felt.But this family of course did not know that (though I wonder if they would have cared if they had)and they waxed eloquent about the qualities of that fresh fish.While Johnathan's probable successor lay half eaten in the dustbin.

For those who missed it,this story has a moral.It teaches us that apparently useless people might have hidden virtues .....
or maybe,
it teaches us something else altogether.

PS.one question,i need to know if the message came through..do tell.

how it is...

2007-06-27T03:18:00.000-07:00

Have you ever missed the bus

For you didn’t want to run

To hustle and jostle, be undignified

Feeling superior, have you waited

Till one stopped by your side

Only to find

That it was crowded.

rain

2007-06-20T06:27:00.000-07:00

The sky is dark and and swollen with clouds.And your throat hurts ,a large unpalatable lump of life got stuck there and its hard to swallow.The wind softly lifted the paper and polythene bags of the street and sent them swinging madly in the air ,along with your thoughts.And that ominous silence ..its too loud and you dont want to hear.
Its growing louder and darker and heavier.And weighing down on you when it suddenly bursts with violence.It had to.The tears come and soon the sky lightens and you can see the sun.

oh calcutta!

2007-06-16T03:54:00.000-07:00

The Senco gold billboard advertises their much celebrated hospitality through the tagline-step in.get lost.The large paper diamond winks mischievously down on me.It seems to have got the joke that eluded the rest of them at senco.I think Ille go buy it.Humour is a commendable quality even in a diamond.

Further up the street there is high end flower boutique.It calls itself cauliflower.Very misleading for that particular flower is not sold in the shop.I didn't ask though, fearing they too might ask me to get lost.In its rush to become developed the city is losing all its courtesy.And pushing and shoving and snatching.Ranks and college seats and land.

But all are not so bad.Some are much more laid back.They come home from work early in the evening and go out for family dinners to 'Big Burp!'.As their lifestyle does not allow them to dine at its younger brother in forum.

How can I help but love my city.?Its like a blundering child muddling his way through life.Sometimes outrageous,sometimes ridiculous,mostly quaint.

2007-06-15T23:22:00.000-07:00

Old age and the rocking chair.

This then is it.
My life
This one room and the news
Which has nothing to do with me
And I had nothing to do with it
And the greying tea cup
The snow white,emaciated me
And nothing else
I have nowhere to go
And nothing to do.
O good that I cant see
For there is only decay
And rotting away..
Inactivity and time on my hands.
Spectre like ,I hobble around
And feel dust on the couch and floor.
The cushions are all worn out
And nothings like before.
So I rock in my chair
To blot it all out
The stillness and the sound
Still theres no getting around
that life has left me behind.

I suppose I've been presumptous trying to feel what I never have...But i think I know someone who feels like that.

2007-06-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

Beside a small ungaurded lake in north calcutta a policeman keeps watch.Often a desperate or frustrated character comes along and tries to drown himself .Our hero swiftly jumps into the water and rescues him.Every time ,with unerring precision.The papers have to say that people have given up trying to commit suicide in that lake altogether ,it being such a fruitless exercise.While the policeman ..he makes headlines and recieves bravery awards.
I wonder ,dear reader how you are reacting to this glorified protector of law and order.I personally would love to dunk him in that very lake awards and all for being such a supercilious ass.And to curb his infuriating and interfering ways.

2007-06-15T06:08:00.000-07:00

before the greasepaint

she goes out to play
In a white cotton dress and bata sandals

then wanders purposefully around the house
looking for nothing.

cooes right back at the cuckoo
till it, angered flies away
and shakes with laughter.

Stands on tiptoe near the table
Face upturned,Whats for lunch?

leaning her head against the car window
she sings sad hindi love songs
in a shrill piping voice.

loves parrots and paper dolls
and pink ice cream.

2007-05-31T00:19:00.000-07:00

DREAM HOUSE

A small one bedroom apartment, in the second or third floor of a nondescript building.Not one of those swank high-rises for me...from where everything thats beneath is a mere speck and all thats above is beyond your reach.No, some afternoons I would like to see the leaves of the trees outside the window, to hear stray bits of conversation float into the room.And have flies buzzing around that chocolate wrapper I forgot to throw away.

One single bed pushed against the wall.Which will double up as a couch when I have company.Simply covered in white.With emerald green satin cushions.The windows are to be unadorned.I've always hated curtains.And carpets.None of that in my room.

Windows are such beautiful things I feel they ought never to be covered .Not even glass panes.And definitely not those tinted officey ones.But of course I realise how inconvenient that will be ,the room will be flooded in monsoon and scorched in summer.Very impractical you say.But Ive never been any other way.

And now the most important important piece of furniture-the bookshelf.After much thought Ive decided that I like the tall narrow ones in dark polished wood best.It'll complement the white of the walls.Which ,by the way, will show between the shelves.That leaves no place for a cupboard which is all right.A cane box which will hold my clothes and an unframed full length mirror on the wall is all I'lle need to dress.

I cant of course lie on the bed and gaze at at the blue kites pasted on the ceiling all day,much as I'd like to.So I suppose there has to be a kitchen.A small one.Kitchennete I think its called.Single stove and fridge.Will regularly treat myself to some fish dish or the other.Which will obviously be delicious...

Ive been willing to compromise on space all along ..in fact I prefer cramped quarters but the loo must be large.That I insist on.It must be spacious and have grey mosaic walls and floor.And no shiney new taps and shower which will simply spoil the whole atmosphere.The bathroom too must have a large window which overlooks a tree .And ...how could I forget this?!A large glass covered bookshelf above the pot.For as Im sure you already know-the toilet is the room in the house where one reads.

Evenings in my house will be lovely.When the sky is a sad shade of orange.And so is the wall facing the window.And my long-stemmed lamp doing the best it can to keep out the dark from the rest of the room.Ille be sitting hunched up on the floor marvelling at the beauty of it all.

Dear reader, you have been very kind and infinitely patient to go through this tedious and (I must admit) boring description and the least I can do is to request you to visit sometime.Please come,You are cordially invited.

2007-05-09T06:23:00.001-07:00

Before the storm

An unnatural evening in the middle of the afternoon. Grey has clouded the sun. The leaves outside the window are whispering. They know.Theyre dancing softly to the quickening wind. Grey and green. Fresh green. A hushed silence. Restless peace. We wait, expectantly.

2007-05-08T21:42:00.000-07:00

I have been told that it is wrong to eavesdrop. It is, for all but those who travel by public transport. When ten people share a seat originally meant for two you get to overhear conversations whether you want to or not. Sometimes it’s hilarious, sometimes it’s boring. Sometimes it makes you think.
A little girl was sitting on her mothers lap (not for anything else but the abovementioned shortage of space) and telling her all that had happened in school that day. The account was very detailed, rather engrossing and had not a chance in the world of being true.
Her mother listened to her for sometime and then asked her to shut up and stop lying. The poor child insisted (wide eyed, her two silly looking pigtails flapping vigorously) that all of it had really happened; she had seen it with her own eyes. She got a tight slap for her pains and a warning that if she lied again shed be locked up in a room with the light switched off. With a faint feeling of distaste I turned away.
This child’s mother felt that she had nipped a very bad habit in the bud. For you see it is wrong to make up stories in your head and pass them of as the truth. So she had punished her for it and called her a liar….
She had nipped something in the bud all right only it wasn’t what she thought it was. Nowadays the more intellectual people say that the world shouldn’t be viewed in black or white, allowances should be made for areas of grey. Black and white, I feel, is good enough provided you know one from the other

2007-05-08T08:18:00.000-07:00

THE ROSE

It was all as simple
As one small petal
That i unthinkingly tore
Or the wind blew away
And within a time so startlingly short
He loved me
Now he loves me not.

ps.omg .i feel like cowering in shame.believe me i dont usually churn out love poetry...just this once..

2007-05-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

Blank.

think about that.if u dont have enough time then find some.its very very urgent.believe me.

2007-05-06T07:13:00.000-07:00

DESIGN

the entire world looked confused
but he looked hard
and things fell into place.
something lay intertwined in it all
a design.

he looked at things
turned them upside down.
looked again
turned them around.
and then he understood
the kaleidoscope that was the world.

the cluster of stars above his head
were always ..well..clusters and nothing more.
then one day they separated into scorpions and kings
and he wondered how he hadnt seen before.

so the poet set out to look for forms that corresponded with the rest
and meant something as a whole.
he found it in frowns he found it in smiles
he even found it in bathroom tiles
the more he saw he realized
how life itself was a design

ps.written long ago.one of my favourites.

2007-05-06T06:58:00.000-07:00

In defence of the independent thinkers

In a world,
Where the only way to be
Is to think as others do
Where a spark of originality
Is found far and few
Where the old and tasteless bromides
Are passed off as new
Independent thinking?
I stopped believing it was true.

When,
The order of the day is
To adjust, to conform
To accept all the norms
When revolutionary ideas
Are buried in the storm
Of mediocrity …

Where,
The intellectual tag
Is granted to only those
Who incessantly chant
That which everybody knows
The undenied,unopposed...

Where is the place
For the men who think alone
For the calm and detached minds
That function on their own
Where is the place
For the men who lead the way
In a world of ordered chaos
And minds led astray.

ps.heavily influenced by ayn rand.much too sombre actually..

2007-05-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

An Unpleasant Thought

We love,
To bend the ends of a twig
Till it snaps
To burst the bubbles
In a bubble wrap.
To hear the crash
Of breaking glass.
To squash the ants
That scurry past.
To twist and stretch
A rubber seal.
We love, for somehow it feels
Therapeutic.