Verse

It is a flight..
Although of stairs,
It still is a flight..
Launching into space!
Those careful steps
Ascending the terrace
Leaping into the divine grace!
Life shrinks when placed below
Under  the blanket of  stars aglow!
Where do these airs of existence escape?
When the soul shuns the mortal remains?
Perhaps into this vast nothingness..
Lost like a twinkle in the Sun's blaze!
These little plights, these petty fights
What are they, but flecks of dust!
Under this celestial arbor
Things fall in the right place,
Live n love , shun malice.
This flight of stairs..
This flight into the air..
Bliss unfold..saga retold!
Lift the head and  intently gaze!
Bask in the cool of  that starry haze.

Transition

Behold, the intoxication

Of being in your company!

Abundance of exuberance

Shining in your splendor!

Beautiful faces, bountyful freshness -

A vigor that can capture the world!

Tangled heartbeats,

Lustily grazing wet skins,

Akin to love? These bountiful hormones.

The universe blurs in the background -

With thruths and realities.

Rosy lens you are -

Showcasing a mirage.

Flip by, day by day..

Slipping into finelines

Of fate and the face

Unfolding the ultimate verity!

Rising emotions, overflowing sensations,

All settle down -

The blurred background comes into focus..

Once you transition into the depths of life!

Oh youth - pretty and naive -

You are something else!

Reselience

Life happens, not like it is expected to,
It serves bloody blows for me and you!
The next turn would have been
The dream come true -
But the twists we encounter
Detours to challenges anew.
Thorns sink in the skin -
Roses we desire!
Was that a happy grin
Set to fire?
Seek to smile, joyly dance-
Circumstances snatch the chance.
Dreams knock down
Like domino blocks.
The doors to bliss
Appear with locks -
But wait a blink,
Be positive when you think,
As clouds they say, have silver linings!
Poke through hurdles
Armed with smiles-
Then journey unfolds
Of joyful miles.
Those hits you endure
Of  bricks and stones-
They break the bones,
But hold in the moans!
Gather them together,
Prepare your ground,
Build your abode
In a strong rebound!
Rope in the guts,
Life does get hard -
To meet with those cares,
Hardy soul prepares - 
And sprouts fresh foliage
Of grit and dares!


(Inspired by the click above by a dear friend)

Pain

If  the droplets could be heaped,
They would reach the skies
And puddle back in under the eyelids.
Flooding the pining insides!
If  feelings could be stacked
They would topple down in a mess -
Call it grief, call it gloom
Call it a bud, nipped in bloom!
Homeless dreams haunt the broken heart.
An orphaned hope mocks back,
Making rude faces.
Vessels we are..
Carrying  loads, being used.
Caught in a mirage..
Chasing an illusion.
Life goes on yet,
Wrapped up in lies
The ones we tell, the ones we hear
What's the purpose of crumpled hearts?
Of ripped apart feelings?
Could they heal? Could they unbreak?
Life goes on yet,
Wrapped in lies..
In the lies we pitifully live!

(picture - light sifting through the darkness of  my room)

Joy ride.

I spent a sizable amout of my life in an automobile, both behind the steering and in the passenger seat. The flow and order on a US highway baffled me to no end..the high speed cars zooming past, and the ones that changed lines did so seamlessly, as though they are weaving a tapestry of vehicles in perfect design. Looking at the traffic through my tinted window seemed near meditative. It had a soothing quality to it that lulled me into peace. Now take that scene and put it next to the roads of Hyderabad and you get  the perfect yin and yang. If there is a perfect visual antonym for order, it has to be the roads and the traffic here. A concoction of pedestrians, metro rail workers, hawkers at the signal posts, beggars, random stray animals, two wheelers, three wheelers, four wheelers, eight wheelers - you get the idea! I made it a point these days to put my camera away while soaking in the details of the road - or  else, I'd have had pictures of six passengers on a motorbike, twenty in a pick up truck with odds and ends like bundles of hay, Share autos busting at seams with people stuffed in to double the capacity - but somehow, they all seem to safely make it to their destinations. It is hard to spot people riding with helmets and toddlers sit on the back seat of bikes holding while wrapping their tiny arms to their guardians' waists.

The perfect accent to this bedlam is the sea of faces that stream through. No two faces dress, look or emote alike. The skins seem transperant with minimal decorations - mostly Bindis in random shapes and the occasional streak of vermilion in the parting of the hair in lieu of a wedding band. I recollect the overcrowd of makeup counters in our departmental stores back home and wonder what Indian women do differently to sport the clear complexions and natural beauties. Now, it is not like I want to brand myself as a bonafide foreigner, but the simple fact that I'd been away for a while now and life had drastically changed with special reference to the traffic on roads and perhaps my own angles of looking at them changed too :)

The most interesting part is the hoardings I spot. The grammar Nazi in me has a loud chuckle and the amateur shutterbugger gasps at almost every other sight. I shall make it a point to designate one of my upcoming trips to clicking just to add the visuals to my descriptions. I spotted everything from Testy Food join, Multi cushion restaurants and other linguistic marvels that escape my mind at the moment. Ironies of life clutter the road, almost unfolding a thesis of sorts into the human psyche.

The best part though, is the sheer variety - the adults, the kids, the workers, the drivers and their super unique signatures and expressions. It looks like a mini world, kind of like a Noah's arc where one of every kind is thrown in to survive - except the sheer number of specimens is overwhelming. Now it might be soothing to sit next to a window on the west bound US highway I 580 - but these lanes and roads, these twists and turns stimulate the body, mind and spirit in a way that only these paths can do - the priceless bonus is food for thought and numerous ponders that pulverize the infamous block :)

Picture - one of the many ironies, clicked with my smartphone! ;)

Flash back

Her thoughts, every once in a while

Linger in the past -

Those thick braids to the side of her ears!

Those acne punctuated cheeks - 

And the flutters of first love

In her thirteen year old being!

Early bloomer, alright -

What else would one expect?

For the depth her heart carried -

For those numerous feelings,

Layered on one another!

Beyond crushes and puppy loves -

Beyond infatuations and attractions

It was Love nonetheless -

A fact that unfolds much later

Down the years 

In her intense heart -

Surfacing in her large eyes!

A smile breaks on her pouty lips.

Heart skips a beat -

No matter the untold part,

No matter the unattained bliss.

Toss images of walking hand in hand -

Of cliched  'happily ever after' endings.

True love heaps on the remnants 

But the first ever beat of the heart

Pining for a longer look - 

Those stupid smiles

That scribbles in journals - 

written in the concretes of the soul!

Did she speak up? did she pursue?

Not so, nada! 

Life happens, joys sprinkle, tears drizzle

She gets her share 

Contentment peeks through 

A happy home!

Once in a while, the gawky teens

Rise in thoughts, gather in memories.

Buried alive, her first love

Beats inside those bygone years

For, experiences are sweet - Imaginations, a tad sweeter!

(Picture - The Sun, peeking through - somewhere in CA, clicked on my smart phone:) )

Wrath

Why do I feel it?

This tremor in the gut!

These seismic waves

That swallow things as whole..

Into the crevices of rage.

Why do I feed it?

Throwing thoughts of spite

For it to munch upon.

The fiery fangs

Licking me in..

Little do I know

It consumes me,

Leaving a rubble of remorse.

Do I plough gall, sow bane 

And foresee boons of love?

Do I spread grudge

And anticipate joy?

Stroke my ego,

Nurture my loathe

And expect bliss to unfold.

How naive, how lame!

Why do I rip this out..

This livid anger

Enraged in emotion.

What do I seek? What do I sustain?

 

Downpour

He teases the senses..
Heart beats lighter, in anticipation.
He changes the ambience..
Invisible winds blow music in the ear,
While caressing the skin with nimble strokes!
Life's scene changes tint.
With a hazy look smeared all along!
Window panes drip sweat like droplets..
Perhaps from the sultriness he brings in tow.
Sunshine falls pale as a lesser parallel for joy
For he masks it with his cool!
They say mynahs croon, peacocks dance..
I hear those sounds! I feel that rhythm.
Trees sway like tipsy dancers in a celebration.
I draw the curtains, and open the windows
To a blast of freshness mingled
With the smell of wet earth!
Dopamine rises sans falling in love
As the soul responds to his tingling touch!
A droplet escapes and lands on the skin..
Elixir of joy infuses into the being.
Shun the guards, toss the rain coats..
Let nectar from the heavens flood the insides!
Mighty monsoon, shower your grace
On Earth and me alike.

(Picture - rain bearers in Scottish highlands - Summer 2013)
 

Dusk

Seep in slyly..

Like a screen on my cares!

Swaddle me gently,

In your warm embrace!

Silken touch

Of your deep layers..

Camouflage the light

As my saving grace.

Sullen, sedate, your darkened gaze

Guards me from the plight of days!

Let there be no dawn to face,

Let there be no world to fight!

Melt me in your raven guise

Rest on my lashes

Lull me to sleep!

Let me escape in peace so deep.

Evoke cozy dreams,

Of calm and quiet -

Let there be no world to fight.

Dusk, alight on the horizon of my gaze

Swaddle me gently 

In your warm embrace.

(Picture - Dusk in south Mumbai, captured from a high rise - winter 2008)

Ponder

Number 6 is ruled by the planet Venus which is also 'Sukra' from the Indian Paradigm I look at. Planet Sukra is the head of fine arts and beauty and the guru of Demons. He is supposed to be talented, artistic, attractive and....LAZY. The capitalization is just for added drama and intensity and not to shout at ye all ardent readers of the blog. That being said, this particulR blog entry should'nt have happened for the capitalized reason, but is happening for the non-capitalized ones and I'll give you a moment for you can get over my egotism before you are obligated to proceed further.

As I gingerly exit the third month in Mera Bharat Mahan, I had been examining life at a very different and interesting angle. It could be for the mere fact that I don't have a household to run, clothes to iron, or meals cook or a wheel to steer.  I came here with a suitcase of clothes..four to 5 pairs for me and the kid, inclusive of our night suits and I get startled to take a long, scrutinizing look at bales and bales of fabric that seems to multiply in the dark and flood all my storage. I live out of the suitcase, but those bales of fabric, transformed into garments of different patterns mockingly leer at me when I attempt to clean my living room. The other day, I thought I had the clutter under control when I painstakingly washed and folded the last of my clothes, but wait...I made a horrific discovery of the clothes left in the dryer for a day too long.

The flash back was devoid of abundance..it was borderline moderation, with clothes in possesion having the same number as days in the week. I had an alarmingly serious fetish for Lucknow work Salwar sets, that were sewn in white over delicate pastles. The earrings were demure studs, the footwear was simple and practical confined to a pair or two. Each weekend, on my days off from work, I used to hand wash them, apply starch and send them pronto to the washerwoman who ironed them  with a coal-amber filled iron box.  These days, I seem to have clothes numbered for the days of the month..or may be a few consecutive months and the greed for new clothes never satiates. And, no sire, it does't stop there...it goes in multiplication of bags, bindis, nail polish bottles et al..but the attention they get, or the joy they give is inversely proportionate to their number. Are we heading towards monsterous consummerism and shallow pleasure seeking!? The ponderer ponders and salutes the minimalists around..if there are any, that is!

This ponder should've been longer..it should be, infact! But the number 6 gets back into the lazy groove..but here's food for thought! Should'nt life be simpler to be happier? On long look at my wardrobe, and the answer is crystal clear. Here's to a simpler menu for Life..simplicity is beauty and moderation is merry! Bad rhyme...I know, I know :-) 

Verse

The heap...
Of broken, scattered thoughts
Like a buldozed home
Of love and dreams!

The bricks, loose and  chipped
Faling apart, from the shelter of  peace!
Was it adamence or naivety?
Was it  arrogance or folly?
That tore the nest!
The birds fly haywire
Life's joys all crumpled.

Ego..a mighty nasty thing,
That leaves just one to love!
Oneself!
Alone and abandoned
In our first love and last love...
Self love.