May Be...

This is a world of yellow pages.

Wandering souls wade across wandering thoughts in wandering lands
wondering
where they could stay in peace
forever.

Strong willed identifiables place bets on where what could move
like
-how what might grow and to what
-what troups could win in world's matches and when
-when the undefeatables would crash and where
-where wandering souls could stay in peace
  forever.

For ever
is actually a may Be,
Almost like a contrl+F and Replace function
(where letter 'case' matters)
in this world of yellow pages
where wandering souls could stay in peace
maybe?
where wandering souls
may Be!

Solitude...

yawns in the calm of the night's whisky like blanket,
gentle yet brisk,
steady yet wavy
like the curve of the crescent moon,
a smiley,
with rough edges and benign stature...

it swims at times,
actionlessly,
as meaninglessly as in sincerity,
as distinctly as in 'situation's' perplexing dichotomy,
as pristinely as in hurried devotion,
as eerily as in thought's piercing gaze...

like a white swan in some waterland,
where movement is stillness in motion...

The Midnight and The Masala!

I made a silly pitch, seriously this night,
when Mary Midnight came to me and picked a fight,
"Oh, useless!" she yelled, "where's the regular jazz and jive?"
"Whats this silly powerpoint? you really need a life!"
I sat like a lost, hopeless creature and made a face,
"I need two square meals, no? Sigh, I rest my case!"

"Oh yes you do!" she mocked and scoffed,
"Do you eat them well at least? go detox!"
"From a crazy foodie (at least oily food!) and a mad food craver,
today, you think of work and only beaver,
get some health, eat some fresh fruit,
vent your misery, make it a conduit."

"Alright" I sighed and tip toed here and there,
half dreamy, half dead, finding pace but ill prepared,
But I came and sat with twinking eyes,
and opened the bag of chips, all calm and wise;
for 5min I chomped away with Masala as good company,
and ignored Mary Midnight's yelling and noisy cacophony.

"Stop", I said finally, and broke open a tender coconut,
emptied its contents and resisted all "but, but, but",
"Midnight, my dear, I'm done for the day,
Its time for you to rest, so pl will you go away?
I'm an obedient lass, and as you insisted, I did jive,
Be happy no, I also jus managed to get some life!

Sit back and lets assess all stocks,
that was some ayyo, some cheek, some oily food and tender coconut on the rocks,
a good recipe, a great piece of writing,
with a finish, this nail biting?
I think I hit the nail right on the head,
by making each reader scream and want me beheaded,
But in my defense, all neat, strong and perfect,
Reader Madam and Sir, its 2.20 am! What did u expect???!!!"

PS - Dont kill me pl...kinda needed my quota of cheap thrills for the day...err night...err  past-night....tata and good night!!!

Like the good, olden days! :)

So it was back to watching tv at home after a long long time this weekend and I cant help but blog about the shows that kept me completely entertained and how (I was a pure, shudh couch potato for 2 days!):

1. DID Little Masters - we're back to talking about kids...now the moot question is - exactly what do i say???!!! Those dance moves, that flexibility, those unbelievable expressions and the sheer cheek in the answers...I mean wot're they made of...I always told u - the kids of today are crazy crazy smart...(sigh!) (scared!)...But the show's brilliant and an absolute treat for sore eyes! :)

2. Jo jeeta wohi superstar - this is like a music (singing) show where I think winners from the old reality music shows compete. But the episodes I watched had like (a) some'raaga' based theme and (b) a devotional special theme...very very nice...reconnected with some old tracks (satyam shivam sundaram) and relived some new age numbers (kun faya kun) all brilliantly sung.

3. Gadget Guru - I'm not a gadget freak n all but I like this show coz it talks simple, basic stuff that even I can understand. Add to it, the fact that I'm kinda a big fan of Mr. Chandra (think I was tongue tied and overawed the first time I saw him live...yesss I did see him live...like onceee :)), I really liked this episode on ultra books n all...not that I'll buy one but well thats just the illogical/ignorant consumer in me; I generally don buy stuff thats got anything to do with technology, I leverage my connections, what're they for !

4. Highway on my plate - one of the few things thats being talked about on this blog for the second time. Rocky and Mayur, these guys are simply simply awesome! The show covered eateries in Pune this time and I, as usual, was left hungry :(...but watching my favourite channel of all time and my fav fav show again after sooooo long - wow - that was a goooood feeling!

All in all, fantastic stuff...ate a lot...lazed around a lot...did lotsa other nonsense also...so happy happy and content with the weekend that was! Hope you guys had fun too! :)

Love!

Is a firefly in the garden and its pitch dark.

It treads the uneven path and glows in undreamy parts.
It connects what you can see with what you cant and fixes what you want from what you have.
It wades around with tenacity and strength with fears none and dears all.

With that small stream of light, it discovers,
its world
within the world
and makes a small home in some dark, cozy corner.

Yes...love is that firefly in that garden where its pitch dark!

PS -
Hulchul hui, zara shor hua, dil chor hua, teri orr hua,
Aisi chale jab hawa, ishq hua re hua!

The Temple Bell!

Up some twenty steps,
a humble pause, I take,
and there,
before the centripetal force,

O bell, you dawn,

standing like a robust curvature,
secreting within you millions and millions of chords -

ailing patients' near-n-dear ones,
cupid-struck-lost-eyed dejects,
strong-willed-meditators,
the meek-surenderrers,
thieves-who-share, theives-who-confess,
the happy celebrators,
the frustrated rejects,
the aimless for the sheer experience of being there,
conformists as part of their routine,
rebels out of contempt,
dreamers with serious hope;

misters, sirs, bosses, mesdames, mistresses, nobodys and un-namables -

you hear them all alike, take their sounds, wrap them around you and beat yourself to a homogeneous dong...dongs...millions of dongs...swallowing each individual song...one by one...

we hang in there too, just like you do!

Madness...

is a furious bull let loose into the arena
where bull fights are excitedly witnessed.

Its a scene for the masses,
a passtime for the aristocratic
and plain shame for the bourgeois.

Sometimes,
there are those peculiar ones
- in some intersection, right above -
that soak/seep into the psyche of this style,
looking closely through the lumbering lion-like lines,
riding and revelling in each of its riveting 'rage' repulses,
burning and blistering in the breathlessness of each offensive bout.

Madness, to some, is life's fiery bull and to some others, just serious bull!

Anxiety...

like a swarm of mosquitos,
in groups of ten somethings
in ugly tempo travellers stuck
in un-retreat-able traffic jams
on rainy evenings,

perches gently onto the valleys/crescents of your body
and tests blood as the nearby doctor would with his syringe,
sucking in thin lines
the liquids sustaining your insides;

and as you frantically try saving yourself,
it spirals its way collectively around to
some other side of you,
oblivious to you,

enters your skull
and sits around it like Damien Hirst's diamonds
before powdering the crust,
making heaps of pure dust
that struggle for space, settle and accumulate
slowly overgrowing the environs of a tiny cerebrum!

Anger...

Screams like a widowed animal,
crying for a second chance;
driving spurts of sudden blood
up
__the spine,
d
o
w
n
the navel,
across each curve of the intestine,
as if tonnes and tonnes of explosives
in a ventless enclosure
have suddenly caught fire
and are tearing down
each particle around their persistent vicinity,
ruthlessly,
mercilessly,
remorselessly,
one by one, two by two, hundreds by hundreds,
with each passing moment,
fast, steady, focussed, cogent,
in pain, worry, hunger, betrayal, embarrassment, shame, distress,

crushing

the cravical bone, its thereabouts
strongly, firmly, gruffly,

as hands shiver, feet paddle and body runs completely dry.

Fury is nokia's snake (game) that kills prey, grows big and eats itself!

Question...

the obvious and question the obvious question.

Coz that question may be a question
mark
that marks
a whole clean form
and
beginnings of a new era
unpleasant viscera
cautious opera...

highs and lows
from notes of pain and pure pleasure
pure pain and pleasure
pressure

question
the thought that questions... 

Sty...

Around flickering layers of coarse skin,
sleepy eylashes blink,
meeting their counterparts from across the shore
containing between their union,
a world of what is seen and what is not in what is real and what is not,
from a dream that could be what it could be or what it could not.

This night,
I gotta sty
on my right eye
that leaves me dry
from questions - how and why
as I adjust and lie
to strictly defy
for passers by
that its you and I, you and I, just you and I!

Familiarity...

Is a by-lane in Basavanagudi

and it flows like a silent river touching many many surfaces of hard cushions
like one long white sari
taking its many many colours from activity during the day.

It jogs, emits light, exudes fragrance, dances and performs jigs
bare bodied
under
bare skies

where once there was
a doddaganesha temple, a thindi beedhi,
the perrenial fragrance of camphor and mallige hoovu,
saturday evenings at shanimahatma temple and yellu offerings into the fire,
the church and white candles,
a less visited classroom, unfamiliar lectures, exam tension,

Vidhyarthibhavan, Subbamma stores and chatni pudi,
Pobbathi, saree cheeti, pink frocks, later, 'ready-made' blouses,

a silver activa, a red 'Identity' jacket, dripping rain on the helmet's glass

and some girl,
dreamy eyed,
apprehensive,
going with the flow,
with a prayer,
blindly trusting life's directions,
following the same road back home every single day.

Familiarity...
breeds connect!

Splits...

Signages on the windowpane
read a little louder, at times.

The glass on my window's got a clear background;
there're boxes of apartments
where
I can see together
- as if one were playing 10 channels at once on the television at once -
all discrete activity that goes on.

Flip flop to the mind's eye
and we're all in several discrete box-stories,
all at once,
playing different roles
as if each were
a full life.

And in each box of me,
there's someone like me

with his/her own boxes,
worlds which evolve,
adapt,
arrange and re-arrange as one would,
priority,
in one's multifarious existance

and i know
I'm just a box somewhere too,
on a slow southward-moving conveyer belt!

Retro...

I've grown up with retro Hindi tracks and as much as I enjoy English music today, the old melodies occupy a special place in some part of me.

The best thing about this music is its simplicity. From lyrics to tune to intonations, its all very pleasing, hassle free with zero complications; and so, it hits the gut directly without any brain filters!

Some of my favourite songs of all time include the following (specifically note the directness and simplicity of love/expression of love):

15. Bekarar karke hame yoon na jaayiye, aapko humari kasam laut aayiye...(pl don go...jus stay!)

14. Suhaani raat dhal chuki, na jaane tum kab aaoge...hawa bhi rukh badal chukiiiiiii, na jaane tum kab aaoge (doesnt it always seem like this? :P )

13. Dukhi mann mere, sunn mera kehna...jahaan nahi chaina, wahaan nahin rehna...(kinda difficult to implement though...)

12. Khoya khoya chaand, khula aasmaan...aankhon mey saari raat jayegi...tumko bhi kaise neend aayegi...( :) )

11. Saamne ye kaun aaya, dil mey hui hulchul, dekhke bas ek hi jhalak ho gaye hum paagal (havent come across a more honest depiction of a crush)

10. Aane wala pal, jaane wala hai, ho sake toh isme zindagi bitado, pal jo ye jaane wala hai (Love this movie as well; Golmaal....and its rich humour with zero slapstick and cheezy stuff...cant remember anything like this today)

9. Tum bin, jau kahaan, ke duniya mey aake, kuch na phir chaaha kabhi, tumko chaaha ke (How do I live without u? Simple, bare verse :))

8. Pal pal dil ke paas, tum rehti ho (I like the tune better than the lyrics...)

7. Roop tera mastana, pyaar mera deewana, bhool koi humse na ho jaaye (lol...candid confessions with some strong reasoning...esp when it continues with raat nasheeli mast sama hai, aaj nashe mey saara jahaan hai...)

6. Wo hai zara khafa khafa toh nain yoon churaye hai...(I love this one actually...the tune reminds me of Elvis' "Fever", but the fact that its a making-up-after-a-fight song kinda makes it super endearing)

5. Bade achche lagte hain, ye dharti, ye nadiyaan, ye raina...aur tum...(All's good when you're around...and in love...whatay simple thought)

4. Pyaar hua ikraar hua hai, pyaar se phir kyun darta hai dil....kehta hai dil rasta mushkil maloom nahi hai kahaan manzil...(it happens dono how dono where it would lead to...right?)

3. Tere mere sapne, ab ek rang hai...ho jahaan bhi le jaaye rahe, hum sangg hai (through thick and thin...especially through the thin...:) )

2. Pyaar maanga hai tumhi sey, na inkaar karo...paas baitho zara toh ikraar karo...(soooo simple "come, sit next to me"...awesome...:) )

1. Tum aa gaye ho, noor aa gaya hai...nahin toh charaagon se lau jaa rahi thi (my fav fav song...jeene ki tum se wajah mil gayi hai, badi bewajah zindagiiiii ja rahi thi...the reason for existance...)

Loved re-connecting with loads of these songs today...thank god for youtube :)

PS - Cant skip mentioning some other v v special songs...personal incidents associated here...:
a. Pukaarta chala hoon main (Can remember dad singing this when i was a kid :)...sang brilliantly :))
b. Hai apna dil, toh aawara, na jaane kis pe aayega (Very special song... the first song i sang on stage...second standard i think...a guy song by a girl...was funny :D )
c. Laaga chunri mey daag, chupaoon kaise (Granpa's favourite...ask me about this when you talk to me next :) )
d. Tujhse naaraz nahin zindagi hairan hoon main (Shekhar Kapur...Maasoom...think i cried when i heard this first...and yeah, with Masoom, I kinda found the special - Shekhar Kapur :P )
e. Rangeela Re, tere rang mey yoon ranga hai, mera mann (My dad's always hated this song i dono why and he hates MY singing this even more...so I like it...cheap thrills :D)

Good things...

are like a mirage...

they stare back at you
as you near them.

Sometimes,
they're like elephant traps
that exploit your stupidity
and watch as you fall into a bottomless pit.

Thank god for death,
there's hope for some escape!

She...

squats on her knees,
folds her legs at times
on the passenger crossing ‘sky-walk’
near Manipal Hospital
which I take to cross the road on busy mornings.

And as I crib to myself for the day -
full of silly number matching and nonsensical calls on how to split the very same silly numbers -
that God gives me,

she sits there every single morning,
her white hair strewn all over her forehead, ears and neck,
with moist eyes,
a shapeless mouth that she uses to speak to herself
and
ears awaiting the sound of each dong that little coins would make on contact with the floor before her.

I saw her weeping today, her grandson sitting next to her, consoling her,
as she grabbed the six little coins that I slipped into her coarse palms;
she looked at me, tears in her eyes,
trying as hard as she could
to stretch her shapeless lips to a U, that they could never attain…

I froze,
stopped,
looked away
and
ran,
trying as hard as I could
to un-stretch the inverted U that streams from my eyes found easy to flow through…

Miscible!

"What's a soliloquy?" she asked, her eyes wide open like the mouth of a goldfish, hungry and restless.

"Its a talk, baby!" he reclined on the red sofa, "one that goes on and on, without any room for conversation". He sipped his coffee, "Can you imagine? One person...one voice...one topic...on and on and on...a looooong story...some hurried characters, jumping in and out...huh?"

"I wanna be in one of those, Gooodooo," she quipped. "And I want you to be next to me, in each little story in that story; we'll have a little house by the river, a small garden around it where I'll grow my roses - white, yellow, pink...red...I'll look at their leaves and learn to love them...You keep the flowers and I'll keep the stalks...in any case, we're inseparable," she smiled!

"Inseparable?" he took his spectacles off. "One handsome boy will come riding on the horse, look you in your eye and hold you by your hand before mounting you on his new-age vehicle and taking you away".

His eyebrows twitched, "Will you give him your roses then? You should..." he said, "if you wont, then I sure will," he smiled, "coz he'll feel its fragrance right through his lungs, deep in his soul."

"So," he paused, "are we inseparable, my baby?" he leaned forward.

She thought for a second, "Daddy Goodooo" she screamed, "Whats my name?"

"Huh?" he shrugged.

"I am AG...you're the G in me," she nodded, "on a horse...or with him...or in my new garden...in this city...on the rooftop...in outerspace...I will always be a G no daddyyyy?..." she cleared her throat.

"Sooooooooo...its a never ending soliloquy..." she stood up, walked upto him and kissed him on his forehead, "we ARE inseparable...coz...i am you...understood?"

Dyslexia...

noun.  brain-based type of learning disability that specifically impairs a person's ability to read...occurs after a brain   injury or in the context of dementia

Crowds of processors
Clouds of speed smoke
Mornings of rushed hushes from A to B to C to...

to gray uptown patches in the roots of the scalp
where there's a land between all the hair,
roads with a white surface
shining after the shampoo like clean sand dry after showers of rain...

to somewhere inside, into the root of the root,
some brain cells mixing into some abnormal flesh,
juggling nonsense
perfectly normally
as if it were
from whipping a whole lot of sense

scents
sent
cents

scant

scarce
scare
scar

me
you
him
her
they

all
dyslexic!

PS - "One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singing...so hush little baby, dont you cry!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJOtaWyEzaI&feature=related

Battle with Fire...

Tall
like your wind pipe if straightened and planted in the soil,
they flare up from somewhere inside
and in asymmetrical up-down movements,
they reach you –

like a snake’s fork-tongue
for a whisker touch,
a brush,
that can spread venom like tumour with light’s velocity…

heat ignites,
argues, screams, points its index finger, slaps,
                touches, kills, separates
reignites –
                   you and yours –
                                                 just firefighting…