Creation

Not every picture is worth a thousand words. Consider this one to your left.

To be continued.

Illusions

The horizon.
The city that looks like an open circuit
Form the view above.
Make believe amour.
Mirage like affection,
Deceptions of depictions
Of love, Of longing.
Transient titillations,
Turbulent vows.
Like a mask,
Over the ever pretending world around
Illusions make reality
Look like an illusion.
Beautifully bizarre.
Bizarrely beautiful
Untrue, Unreal, Unending
In a tale that only exists
In imaginations.

Mystery.

A pair of eyes
Looking at her
In the illuminated space.
They meet.
A thought sprouts
A familiarity dawns
Forlorn gazes
Feeling her features
With a tinge of anonymity
A tingle of mystery
Peepers fixed on the object of admiration
Wander all over her candle-lit face,
Failing to recognise an image
That looks back at her
Every time she gazes into the mirror -
For sometimes the greatest of mysteries,
The strangest of strangers
Are right there
In one's own reflection!

Start.

I am on a journey that I embarked ages ago.

I am on a quest
To find,
To discover,
To attain
Something that looks near
But feels so distant.

I fail
I fall
I falter.
I start all over again.
Neither irked
Nor irritated
Only to start
Again
And Again.

Dreams bubble
in the heat of hopes
Bubble in hundreds of tiny passions
To reach a goal
Set near enough
but far apart.

A day on the deck.

I could have won some sort of a prize on the deck of carnival Elation. The prize of being the most 'covered' person around, if you discount my Saree clad mother-in-law that sat on one of the benches watching over our beach bags filled with heavy towels, sunscreen and a lot of things that got stuffed into the over sized bag by cruise enthusiasts such as me and Sneha :-)
I did not dream of using the water proof capris and active tees till a sudden inspiration to let Aarti play in the pool water hit me on the pleasantly sunny afternoon on Elation. I was dressed in a black cargo and a loose fitting embroidered white peasant top before I rushed to my state room to gather Aarti's swimsuit, her life jacket and to change into the swim gear of the century.
I probably looked like a black sheep in the sea of scantily clad bodies swimming and sun-worshipping on the deck with shielded eyes and stripped (almost) bods.
My two piece bikini was a capri that showed off the skin below my knees and a full hands active tee whose neck line would put a nun's gown to shame. I was engrossed in the moment, cursing myself for not carrying a book with me. I did get into the water. A little girl aged no more than three gave me a weird look when I got into the water dressed the way I was dressed. I tried to ignore her freckled face and those fiery red tresses. I couldn't. Nor could I stop my eyes from wandering around the expanse of the generous deck in a preoccupied trance. I thought about the culture. The people. The difference in thoughts, actions, preferences, principles, lifestyles, outlooks, approaches, paradigms and a lot more things that were blocked in an attempt to enjoy seeing my little girl playing in water like Ariel, the mermaid.
The rest of the gang got on to the water slide. I just sat there resisting the taunts to join them. I didn't want to. I was happy cogitating in my own world, looking at the crowd of my universal brothers and sisters sporting bright hued spandex that accented their skins in an art like fashion. Every one seemed to be lost in a world of elation savoring a moment that would trap in the valves of their heart bringing them the warmth of the sun and the cool of the waters for many a day to come. Cameras flashed competing (and losing) with the laughter of little kids sliding on the huge water slide, splashing jumbo drops of joy all around.
I sat there, in my outstanding black bikini, with my outstanding thoughts skimming through the sea of faces, each trying to unfold to me a new story, an interesting story about confidence, dreams and a single yearning to capture a heap of memories in a world that was concised in the deck of a not so big cruise ship.
I sat there for the rest of the afternoon, skipping my lunch, for I was feasting on the joy of being in the middle of the Pacific, the clear blue sky forming a definition above the heavens that reflected in the colorless waters below, banishing the blues away form the deck. The blue of the sky, the sea and the pool, in amalgamation, created a brand new hue, the hue of happiness.

It is here.

My Valentine Day gift got a bit tardy this time around. It arrived here on the 16th instant. I chose and paid for it with my Amex that will be paid by Sarat. So technically it is a gift he got me though he doesn't have a clue of anything except, perhaps, the price. LOL.

The MWS-1840 model made by Franklin came with a nifty companion - The ultra sleek and portable book-mark dictionary. I being the bargain hunter I am, refuse to pay retail for for most things I buy barring stuff like flour and rice :-) So after hunting for coupons and codes, I'd found this for $30 off retail plus the $50 worth freebie thrown in. The utterly opposite appearing siblings sit by the night stand, tucked in one of the many little pouches that was hibernating in a paper bag under the bathroom sink. The discovery of the pouch in question saved me the trouble to sew one myself.

Aarti seems to be endlessly fascinated by both the thingies. So I'd not really had a chance to play around with them. I am all geared up to get acquainted with PG Wodehouse now, since I'd missed running into him during those numerous trips back and forth in the dust laden isles of our school library.

So here goes my prophecy. I might end up learning a word or two. What does that mean to you? It means to you that I might actually start to stop being so repetitive with my words. And who knows? Wodehouse might actually sprinkle a seed or two in my clayed brain after adding a thought of some soil conditioner to break the clay loose. Then the rocket science of writing blogs might actually become a simple task of enjoying a piece of cake. So, so kindly, kind readers, I might actually prove myself of being worthy of your time and attention without compromising on originality - I humbly promise!

Unending.

A wild chase,
That ends in a nothingness like meaning.
A cliche.
A solved puzzle,
That lives in the camouflage
Of worldly pleasures,
prejudices,
Pains,
Pretensions,
Perversions.
A pollution
Of the five elements
That tortures the unending spirit
To give in to the demands
Of a bubble like being
filled with the flesh and pus
Of selfishness and sin.
My Father, My Friend, My Love.
Relieve me form this
Vicious circle.
Make my spirit
Realise the depth of my words
Deep within my very conscience!

Unknown

Powerful images,
Strong longings,
Heap
Like fiery fall leaves
On the tuft green below.
Rakes and Blowers
Alternate
And the captured reflections fly by
Aimless
Hopeless.
Without prior notice
Or a fair warning
Dreams grow back
Like almost non-existent foliage
On barren branches.
New hopes bloom
taking place of countless old ones.
Dreams recycle
In infinite loops.
Spring has sprung
Within - Like it has without.
Ah...the circle of life
Aping the circle of dreams.
in unadulterated flattery.

The many faces of Elation

The many people. the many faces . the many facets of Carnival

A vacation named Elation

Here's Elation, captured form the tour bus window in Ensenada, Mexico. Apart from the many images that took form on the lense of my SLR, there are numerous counterparts that are captured on the lense of the greatest camera known to human kind. The Eye. And that's not all. Many a vivid reflections got etched on the heart's lense that are elated to take a word form in this blah_blah of mine. So ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls - Here's unveling a series of blogs dediated to the elated spirits, elated soul - courtesy, Carnival Elation.

Inspiration.

You never know when and where it strikes.
You never know how it comes to you, disguised in the form of a chipping trunk of a mammoth tree, The heart shaped lips of a fashion model, the crooked bend of a curvy path or even a remote control clutter on the coffee table.

To me it came today, in the form of an anonymous comment, calling my works fresh and original.

Thanks to the poster!

So a bunch of thanks with a capital T are in order.

Thanks to Lahari, Thanks to Ravi, Thanks to Krishna Kumar Uncle, Thanks to Satya, To Nalini, To Ram, To Sindhu and to everyone who treads this path and looks at my childish , stupid and meaningless blabbering as art,poetry and prose.

To each and everyone of you, I am most sincerely thankful.

(Makes me realise how a pair of eyes that can look at something can change its form from petty to pretty)