This will be the last entry this year coz I have no clue where ill be tomorrow nite.Its very late as per IST and Yours Truly felt like spending some time with his old and trusted buddies, alone yet amongst millions of them…stars I’m talking about. The moon is about 3/5 th of its full glory up in the sky much like a baby lying asleep in a cradle with countless eyes to take care of it. There’s a chill in the air, a cool soothing breeze is flowing. An instrument to facilitate easy communication amongst homo-sapiens is with me, my mobile. Sometimes I just hate it to the core but that’s another story.
Its 31st of December today. 2007 has just whizzed past leaving behind a lots to think over, a lot of opportunities…..some taken away, others presented as if trying to maintain the cosmic balance. I can hear a distant rumble of an automobile, the tick-tock of my watch, continuous flow of my thoughts. For today, id like to close them in an iron maiden and throw it down in the deepest trenches of the ocean I so fell in love with over the past week, wishing that they would never re-surface. Its 2:15 AM, maybe ill spend another hour here outside before the bliss of sleep engulfs me. Tomorrow is gonna be another day in paradise. Just wish God had a contact number or an address so I could thank him personally.
all I can say for this New Year is………………………………….
DO GOOD and GOOD HAPPENS.

Life's Like That

All of us, at one point or another in our life have felt life’s unfair. In case you belong to some other category, stop reading this further without any delay whatsoever. Others can go on.
Sometimes we feel, WHAT IS THE POINT of these 8460 seconds God lets us live everyday? We lose money, we lose opportunities, we lose chances, we lose people…some of them just walk out of our lives for reasons we understand, some for reasons we cant comprehend, some for no reason at all…all of this to start all over again!
And so we feel fucked up because we are left clueless, without anything to make amends. We feel like a farmer who just can keep gazing at his crop being pelted with hail and cannot do a single  goddamn thing about it. And then what do we do? We drown ourselves in sorrow, in gloom, in grief, in a futile attempt to live in the illusion that we are strong, when deep inside, its as if someone is hammering a nail into a concrete wall!
It is here that we need to change our point of view. We fail to realize that the hammer maybe of rubber, we fail to recognize that it all is part of a bigger picture. Lets take me for example…..im 21( 22 tomorrow unless God plans otherwise), and to see, for how long have I lived? Even if I’ll be 60 when I die( though I’d like to be 18..;)…its just 1/3 of my life that I’ve lived so far!
Another thing I’d like to add is that there is a higher power above. And not often do we realize, that we have another opportunity knocking on out door, another chance waiting to be gambled, another person, right there waiting to fill the void that’s been left empty. Just need to give them a chance. A gardner might feel that the honey bee has stolen all the nectar from the flower he so fondly cared for….but then , its he who’s gonna taste the honey!!!!!!!!
Summing it up, all i'd say is............................

A thousand golden sunsets,
                                            waiting for an eye to see,
A thousand musical notes,
                                            wishing to be a melody,
A thousand blooming flowers,
                                            dreaming a bouquet be made,
A thousand kindergarten tiny dots,
                                           with minds eager to be swayed,
A thousand picturesque paintings,
                                           wanting a wall to adorn,
A thousand interwined patterns,
                                           yearning the dress be worn,
A thousand glistening droplets,
                                          wanting to confluence with the sea,
A thousand blissful moments,
                                          to be lived by you and me!

Colour......Blind

Far across the distance,
with a baby she stood,
perplexed it was midnight,
to go home if she could.

Yellow beams on the highway,
she hid her face from the light,
stalled the car at her footsteps,
tears murked her sights.

Opened door then the stranger,
rain was pelting stones,
an offer to take her back where she belonged,
the little place she called her home.

"Dont worry you will be safe"
the stranger then uttered,
"Thank You" said the lady,
more than she spoke she stuttered.

And began the journey,
that would shatter her faith,
alter her mind a full circle,
definition of love and hate.

Stopped he at the drive-in,
and lighted a light,
brought her food so she could eat,
and feed the baby for the night.

Four crooks were watching,
gold chain that on her neck hung,
with a knife they approached her,
deep in flesh it stung.

Galloped forth the stranger,
made his way through the rain,
took the blows on his body,
not once his face showed pain.

Iron rod on the elbows,
metal wound on the thigh,
baseball bat on the head that drew,
a silent shrieky sigh.

Distant siren of police,
tires screeching through mud,
made their way to the stranger,
all soaked in crimson blood.

Trembling then the lady,
with the baby did see,
in a miniscule moment ,
the four crooks did flee.

And so thought the lady,
she was wrong all the while she thought right,
for the stranger that lay dead that night
was black the crooks were white.

Merry Christmas

Riding sleighing Santa,
over the moon he comes,
amazed at seeing stars like sky,
resting on million homes

A little girl who prayed,
for a wooden tambourine,
finds herself amidst candies and it,
a chocolate flavoured dream.

A curious cat then mews,
under the festive spell,
a brook nearby where grass grows high,
and a thousand blooms dwell.

Mysterious is God,
mystreious are his ways,
to make Scrooge a believer,
'Merry Christmas' he too says.

The Old Beggar

A beggar on the road,
tattered clothes, worn out and old,
streches open his arms wide,
shaking and shivery all in God's name,
a crumbled soul dwells inside.
Who cares?

With trembling hands he knocks at the door,
one, two, three, four,
gathers up courage but the lips are shaken,
a two and three quarters of words spurt out,
showcasing an identity mistaken.
Who cares?

In a split-second the car is spun,
across the street, fading into the sun,
all hopes of mercy, of pity are blown,
retreats the beggar to wait another turn,
he knows he gotta live coz life goes on.
Who cares?

Well, just tried my hand at writing a short story. Don’t know how it is, lets hope those who read it do like it. And those who don’t well, there are still the poems ;)

Dikrit was a 7 year old boy. He lived with his family in a small town, Kettinad. Like other kids his age, he went to school, he fought duels with his studies, he liked roaming around out in the wild chasing butterflies, climbing trees in hope of a rendezvous with the birds that dwelled there and of course, plucking the occasional Mango that the tree bore. Dikrit was the warm little centre around which the Universe crowded.
One day Dikrit’s father bought him a kite from a far town.Kites were not available in his own. Dikrit had always wanted to soar high amongst the clouds and the kite somehow gave him an avenue to realize his feelings. So for days together, he and his kite adorned the likes of Kettinad. High above the yellow sunflower fields, high above the hyacinth stricken ponds, higher still in his eyes that gleamed every time the kite would scare the birds away that had captured the freedom the skies had to offer. Life went on calmly, till one day, one fateful day, the string snapped, breaking the little boys heart as it itself shred to pieces and away went the kite, disappearing into the horizon where the sun had spilled out its 
magificance lending a orange hue to the low rise clouds.  For a week, Dikrit did not speak with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends, not even with God who he thought lived in the little brown wooden box that adorned the room of his grandmother.
His father, concerned about his son’s goodwill, brought him a tennis ball. Dikrit wasn’t excited though. To him, the kite epitomized all he ever asked from life. He decided to search for the kite he so loved lest he should find it someday. And so each day, he set off looking for it as soon as he returned from school. And each day he would take the tennis ball along with him. He searched far and wide. He searched the meadows where he had seen large four legged animals with horns and humps that looked like cows but were’nt actually cows. He turned upside down every stone, every leaf that lay hoping against hope that the kite be there. And for all this while he took the ball along with him. He learnt to catch it, throwing it high up in the sky till it looked like a dark little sun. He dribbled it, he hit the cows with it, he threw it at stones and see how it changed trajectories. He took it to the pond, he made little boats in which he sailed the ball ,amazed at how even when the boat capsized, the ball never drowned. He took it to the same sunflower fields and tried to match the balls colour with the velvety petals. It amazed him how a yellow coloured round thing could delve itself into any role he liked and yet stay with him always.
A month passed, and one fine day, as he was playing catch and throw with his friends, the gleamy eyes saw the sight they wanted to see. Lay there the kite alongside the moss stricken boulder. To Dikrit, it meant heaven. Tears rolled down his cheek, a smile erupted that revealed his two missing front teeth. He ran back home with the kite to show it to his parents, who couldn’t be happier at their son’s triumph.
Next day, after getting new strings attached, he ran for the fields. It was a beautiful day, gentle breeze that carried with it a promise to make the kite soar to heights never before imagined by him.But something was amiss. Something that made the little boy think like he had never before.
The Tennis Ball.
He looked at the cows who in turn were staring back at him wondering why a yellow coloured un-hurting stone was not being hurled at them. He looked at the boulders that looked dull and worn out, the very boulders that had amazingly, looked so full of life and vigour when ball used to be thrown at them.The ball had been his companion all along. In rainy days, when flying kites was incomprehensible, in those rooms indoor he had spent hours together catching the ball as it rebound from the algae stricken patchy walls. Dikrit did not want the kite anymore. He loved the ball more than anything else in this world,it was there with him always and he did’nt realize it.


How many of us keep looking for answers when all the time, they are right there, staring at us in our face. Answers that have been there always, answers we do not even realize exist. And because we don’t know where to look for them, because we are so entwined in the illusion of what we think we want, we fail to recognize them. We become Dikrits too late in our lives, it almost fails the point. Lets learn to let that which does not matter slide. Look around, life is beautiful!...and its never been any other way.

Sometimes i feel im eating myself up, piece by piece, chunk by chunk.  the mind just explodes and the thoughts are akin to the survivors of a blast, scattered, running amock with no clue whatsoever. I just am unable to gauge what needs to be done. its like somebody is beating drums in my head and the noise is deafening. everything seems panicky and widout purpose. this mite last just a while but til da time it does, damn, i wish nobody ever feels da same.

Insomniac

In deep caverns of solitude,
entangled is the mind in a pensive mood,
wafting along the thoughts descend,
searches the soul for point quiescent.
Ramblings of heart with heart-beats entwined,
feelings one in too many enshrined.
Caught is the brain in a murky quagmire,
pondering upon fulfilled and betrayed desires.
Contours of walls like ghosts in hiding,
down comes a picture with breeze gliding.
For aeons the bliss of sleep then waits,
the heart loves the sinner, the sin it hates.
Eyes wide shut yet the world is clear,
lay distant dreams with me, so near.
A careless whisper at once the spirit echoes,
and paints a picture of you amidst sparrows.
Enter I, fly the birds, you stay,
the heart then dictates, the pen obeys.
Time albeit spares a moment none,
tick-tock tick-tock it goes on.

Binding Chain

What is it that keeps,
the thoughts from falling apart,
that sews the broken fragments,
holds them together again.
It has a price however,
for needles pierce the
burnt flesh, a chain that
does not let you free,confining you
midway betwixt victory and loss.
Its life they say, i wonder though,
life's dimensions are too diverse
to comprehend for me and you
and all that can be done is to live it
before it lives you out.

The Battle Within

Deranged are you,
that you pain self-inflict,
piercing nails in your chest,
virus of gloom in your mind infest,
indenturing yourself to the crucifix.

Mistaken my friend,
in your argument are you,
redemption of soul what i desire,
abluting my mind in my hearts fire,
painting life in a different hue.

False victory beckons you,
mirage its been from the start,
what good is flying high outside,
you in yourself cant confide,
when inside you are falling apart.

Rainy Morning

Rainy morning, a face so sweet,
silken hair strands,
soft caring hands,
oozing freshness, a grace so sweet

Teasing glances,lovelorn stare,
worries unwind,
life redefined,
scattering happiness, lifelong fair.

Crimson lips, enchanting smile,
the upper lip mole,
rejuvenating soul,
existance made worthwhile.

Mellifluous voice, melting words,
numb heart goes,
receding woes,
myriad hues adorn minds white board.

Caressing hands, satiny touch,
finger on cheek,
playful shriek,
life from you i ask as much.

Maybe

I know i'm not supposed to,
but somehow, i love this hell,
who's to blame, i do not know,
maybe its just the way i fell!

Life SNAPS

I still tingle with an experience a friend of mine narrated to me this morning.Life is cruel, yes it is, no two ways about it. When everything seems to be on the right track, life's train is chugging along at a slow but steady pace, one feels even the Devil himself cannot cause any aberrations in the smooth plans one often has. And yet it takes only a linesman to change the track, and as that lousy station master in a certain' Jab We Met' exclaimed, ' variation in angle by a few degrees and destinations get miles apart.'

My question is what does one do when the person finds he himself is linesman. Let me tell you, its the worst feeling one can experience.

Such a linesman, my friend Mr.M turned out to be. In this day and age who does not aspire to take a peek-a-boo at his/her managerial skills. He too was no different. And Lo! after much ado about nothing, the gentleman rose and the form of a ceratin SNAP was filled,albeit online. Such technology is a wondrous prospect of human existance in todays world. Most inhospitable places are a click away, the world seems at fingertips.
And so that day, that fateful day, Mr. started filling the document in question with much vigour and enthusiasm, or so he would have us believe. The family name was scribbled, educational qualifications mentioned with precision. Age, sex, contact numbers et al made their way into the Symbi database accurately. The test centre being the City Beautiful of course, but it wasnt to be.
The scroll on the mouse is a wonderful proposition and it makes it presence felt as one admires the functionality of a modern day computer. A scroll here and a scroll there and Johnny's sugar falls in his fathers mouth. Mr.M scrolled unknowingly and never looked back at the form, he's not someone who'd ponder upon stuff bygone. Little did he know that the little scroll button had done its work, in a manner that is both titilatting and saddening at the same time.
Mr.M 's admit card mentions his test centre as Chennai, nearly 2500 kilometres adrift. I'd like to meet that station master and let him know that.

I Like

I Like,
Saying silly things because I know they make her laugh,
that endless curve on her face I see,
like a winter morning sun; so bright,
the thought of which brings about such glee.

I Like,
To be away from her for,
the joy I get when i see her again,
like the heat parched earth;dry and out,
relinquishes its thirst at seasons first rain.

I Like,
to be close to her,
she makes worst of days seem right,
it lightens my mind, it lightens my soul,
it flies like birds in circled flights.

I Like,
talking endlessly to her,
never bored of each other get we,by far,
even silence such comfort gives,
words no longer necessary are.

I Like,
to whisper 'I Love You',
when she lay on bed, feelings for her to keep,
and feel the glow it brings in her eyes,
I like to put her smiling to sleep.

Will I?

There's a feeling i've been feeling,
its scattered around and I gather it,
with me for a little while it stays,
coz as I gather, again I scatter it.

Its a game I play with myself,
where i'm the seeker and i'm the one who hides,
I take small steps towards you, or from,
one step ahead, two backward strides.

I'm an insane man in a sane world,
yet a sane man in a world insane,
point by point I plot the graph,
point by point I erase it again.

I can strew back all the broken pieces,
I may fail to win, I cant fail to try,
an attempt to resurrect whats obliterated,
the question I ask myself...Will I?

The Star Gazer

I love star gazing, so i guess something should be here for it too......


I lay down lonesome on the grass,
sprinkled with blushing youthful flowers,
with beetles together they shared with me,
an eternal moment, staring at the stars.

Scattered high in the sky they lay,
shining sages, so peacfully,
onlookers since times immemorial,
each moment ageing gracefully.

The young ones flashed inherent fire,
calming ways of those matured,
flashy ones shot like arrows fast,
a time like no other this time ensured.

Someday when I try and comprehend,
nature of man and delve on it for hours,
I'll think of this day I lonesome lay,
on the grass gazing at the stars.

The Addict

Gripped by the Devil Himself,
submitted to the whore of desire,
letting mind drift anew,
rising in the sky, higher and higher.

When limbs feel devoid of life,
prickly pins on finger tips,
in oceans fly aeroplanes,
desert is so full of ships.

Speech corrupts, words slide,
sight seemingly fades to black,
voices scream from far and wide,
thoughts pounded by bygone flak.

Enlightened mind, a body so numb,
ricocheting beliefs that need support,
split personality, one genius one dumb,
when none, infinity denotes.

Questions arise, answers fade,
or a sea of answers which questions wade,
when hate and love at once one says,
the lifeless red, the vibrant grey.

Redeeming self, a repelling ego,
the spotless mind cries aghast,
burying remnants of an eternal sunshine,
like a baby, it then sleeps at last.

I'm feeling so weird rite now. Angry yet enlightened is how id describe it to be. I dont know why, i was ok ten minutes ago, and i know ill be fine ten minutes from now. But if i were to explain u the ramblings in my mind, id say im feeling like a drug addict in a rehabilitation centre( dat doesnt mean i take drugs!!! Im against em anyways) who knows he must not take drugs and avoids it but is angry wid himself for doing so. So u see, its a two way feeling. Enough of this bullshit, the day was awesome. Caught up wid some old pals. It was like a golden era had cheated time and  momentarily re-appeared. Then there was a great re-union wid frnds wid whom frienships were broken for unknown reasons, reasons that dint even exist. But am glad today, coz finally after years, sense and sensibility have prevailed over false egos and mistaken identities. And how can i but not mention about the festival of lights. It was a simple celebration today, 
not a pompous affair like times before, but it was a much happier one. See, its been around 5 minutes since i started writing and am already feeling better. Anyways, enuf said for tday. I wish you all a very very happy deepawali. Hope all of you have an awesum time this festive season. Signing out. Gnite.

Her Lips

Drenched with the colour of devils eyes,
as creamy as an ice-cream scoop,
lushness of a dew soaked petal,
softness of a pigeons feather.

A curve upwards and the world submits,
a curve downwards and darkness descends,
they part and exhibit a necklace of pearls,
yesterdays innocence, todays trends.

Dipped in strawberry red they are,
a glimpse for which kings trade their gold,
a firm line together when they draw,
the modern beauty, mature and bold.


A sight of their casts a spell,
I am enchanted in by their mesmerising glow,
the passageway to beautiful thoughts,
the honey dripping talk my mind that blows.

An addictive picture together they paint,
lending the hand a velvety touch,
a pale of sweetness with them entwined,
a masterstroke of God's paintbrush!

Things Have Changed

Its not that good, its just too far,
when you aim at the moon and you shoot at the stars,
a hush goes rushing through the night sky.

Its all too good, i am all too clean,
I think about the places lately i have been,
you just keep believing its all worth a try.

The world is amusing, the world is strange,
i am too perplexed, i am going insane,
i used to be concerned but....things have changed.

The Day the Hope Died

A war has broken out. It has reached this city. The people of the city know they do not have the slightest chance. Most have accepted the will of God. A man thinks otherwise and promises his son he will be back. As fate would have it, he does not return. His son waits for him all the while and dies eventualy. Should the father have told his son to run away, should the son have done so himself, should he have literaly stood by his father's word knowing what all is happening before him, these are questions one is free to ponder over.

Far in the horizon,
clattered drums and trumpets,
of death gliding swiftly,
shatter life's nest.

Pillaging march,
fear emanating all along,
hope receding he spoke,
"fear not son be strong"

"human animals lay ahead,
tormenting spirits within,
oblivious to humanity,
deceitful devilish denizens

Back i'll be to take you,"
Comrades gazed in astonish,
"a rendition of what i stand for,
back i'll be i promise"

So stood there the child,
as meek as a deer,
imbibing the words he just heard,
his eyes of grit,
his shadow of strength,
he believed in his fathers word.

Mayhem caressed the buildings,
devastation kissed a lethal blow,
sorrow cuddled the faces of women,
bodies of the dead who wont let go.

Fighting the gloom all around him,
the boy stood still,
apostle of manly character,
naked exhibition of strong will.

Plunderers came closer,
his hair the bullet grazed,
not a smirk on his face nor a shiver of hand,
he stood there unfazed.

The light dimmed,
the sounds faded,
the senses were lost,
beneath the tree,
along the road,
Ah! the boy was shot.

In his descent to the ground,
heavenly stars he eyed,
not his body, not his soul,
it was his hope that day that died.

Who Am I?????

It was there that I met him,
standing down the hallway he was,
he met me like a lost brother,
for me it was finding needle amongst straws.

For I vaguely recollected him,
my memory lane seemed a bit narrow,
I listened, abstaining from curtailing his zeal,
his tales more fluent than chirps of a sparrow.

At last I spoke, patience giving way to curiosity,
I think the world had lost you,
consumed by death you existed no more,
I was there beside you always,
you never realised I was there before.
and so I will till eternity,
because me is you and you is me.

I grinned at him and walked away,
his resemblance kept haunting me,
could it be possible, did I know him before?
the question at hand kept daunting me.

I searched the answers far and wide,
every moment I lived, every path I went,
and it was then that I discovered,
the one truth that gave me strength.

A way of life I shed long back,
never before has reality turned to dream,
the man I met down the hallway,
He was I, I was Him.

Water.....

this is what you get when its 5 mins to the lecture getting over and u r so bored you dont even wanna create nuisance anymore...;)


Rain drop,
my ego
Dew drop,
my mind
Tear drop,
my emotions
River,
my thoughts
Lake,
my patience
Water,
my identity
Me,
my assassin!

Shooting Star...

While star gazing last night, saw a shooting star, grabbed a pen, just wrote it down........


Across the stars
brighter than the sun,
it dies for a moment of glory,
a way of life for millions to see,
a perception of existence that has a different story.

An aim in mind it had,
fulfilling which it met its end,
but a healthy promise it lighted in rest,
dare i say, the 'how life should be' trend.

Of what it thought was its destiny,
to meet the earth, its sole desire,
it gave it all, its mind, body and soul,
radiating its passion, exhibiting its fire.

Pursuing its dreams over eternity,
the true meaning of 'being' it showed,
for it took a path most fear to tread,
overwhelmed with respect my head bowed.

And then i gazed at the rest of the lot,
the millions of stars shining up in the sky,
a question arose from my soul to them,
for what, for whom.......why?

NOW!

There goes our today,
in yearning for a better tomorrow,
cascaded by the glimpses of peace,
tarnished by beads of sorrow.

Plagued by the moments bygone,
the present dies a tumultous death,
how can the lungs of today survive,
if fed with yesterday's breath.

Events of the days of yore,
let em trouble us no more,
they lend the life a filthy touch,
they cripple the mind, it needs a crutch.

Yes those were times, they were bad, they were good,
give them their due no more than you should,
so shed remnants of bygone, rue them over less often,
for 'now' is what awaits us with its arms wide open.

Love...its everywhere

On every petal that flourishes,
In every scream of a mystique hush,
In the scentful vestige of the murmuring breeze,
Latent is a feeling, that conveys as much.

Its sprinkled all around us, its in everything,
Even the satanical minds contemplating sins,
Its in me, its in you, it is in the air,
Its love, its everywhere.

In the trickling tear across a mothers face,
At the sight of a newborn, her victory , her grace,
In the quietness of the words that were left unsaid,,
Of that girl and that boy who different paths now tread,
Flowing from the giggles of children playing at a park,
It’s the touch that lends life its spark.

Its more than a feeling, its more than a word,
It fills the gaps in the universe.
A bitter-sweet symphony that deafens the ears,
Love is a song of the soul, love is dear.

It abodes in the martyr’s zeal to save his motherland,
It is the call of the God, it’s the path to heaven,
Emanating from the comfort of a simple hug,
Its too vast for us to understand,

After the Storm

It rained really heavily a couple of days back. I happened to go out for a walk the very next day and saw this tuft of grass in the park. The sun was about to get out. And when it did, the change in the persona in this tuft of grass was astonishing to see. From a frugal peasant it metamorphosised into a blushing maiden. So here i am, just trying to capture the feeling of that tuft for the sunlight that brought into it a zeal for life. Abstract i know, but then, what the hell......


Beaten, betrayed, i yearned for solace,
to redeem myself from the abasement i was subjected to yesterday,
buried in the ground, face down, mowed and sheared,
life, it seemed had lost its way.
And then you happened,
lifting me up,giving me the urge to stand on my feet again,
You showed me what life realy means,
you taught me how to fight the pain.
Like a mother you bestowed upon me,
your love, your care, your tenderness,
i was a wretched orphan, a nobody's child,
a deserted nomad, my identity was a mess.
your extended golden arms of velvety touch,
were so filled with warmth,they just osmosed the ache away,
those glistening gleams like beads of a necklace,
that guided me like a path to a destiny.
Gratitude fills me,for i have been
shown the purpose of life, which is to be,
and fight for all i believe in, that defines me,
that one thought that sets me free.

A House For Mr.T

Its heartening to see how the world converges to a small room in the shackles of the "ranbhoomi" thrice every semester, six times an year. Its almost as if the entire gravitational force has made this dingy,rectangular,8 feet by 8 feet box the focal point of the universe.
The abode is the residence of one very enchanting Mr.T whom fellows are never going to forget for he'll surely inhabitate the folklore. In fact, i'm sure that a gazillion years from now( maybe a year or two here and there), when alien life visits this planet, the hyms sung in the praise of Mr.T shall still haunt the area.
Let me rant a bit about the tangible articles that define the acoustics of this place. There's a modern prelude of the work of a certain Charles Babbage that continuously pounds the air with its crass cacophony( although Goody comes a not so distant second). then there are the constant verbal duels of the friends of Mr.T. There's the above mentioned Goody, the Chinese fellow, the Devils Advocate and another guy who got screwed but is happy that he atleast did it his way.
Everytime the "era" in question raises its sinister head, paperwork can be seen strewn all around. Furnished wood pulp that long yearned for a hand of love now suddenly finds itself heir to numerous fortunes. If there were such a thing as adoption for inanimate objects, it would have been a hectic period for the authorities( judiciary more likely).
Once the stage has been set, all differences settled, its time to put the less used nerve cells to a little bit of strain. Opinions are divided and so are the teacher's monologues, there are clashes of interest, a violent hooting or two, a sudden hush, someone crackles in a corner, a fellow does a jig, grape juice is shared, ignition mechanisms are tested. A point is certainly made to devour the eyes with the latest cinematic marvel or catastrophe. Minutes tickle past, hours whizz by, but the will to work together for a better tomorrow is stagnant( and yes its just that, STAGNANT).
Its a new day, the repeat telecast is about to begin. Intrested???????

Thank You

Running into circles,
trying to surprise you,
trying to remind you,
the times that have been.
You're the queen of angels,
the sound of sea in sea-shells,
i have no words to tell you,
what you mean to me.
Let my love mesmerize you,
my care satisfy you,
you're the reason i discovered,
a side of me i've never seen.
whenever i'm lost, i see in your eyes,
and find my way back home.
when i'm bruised and battered, my soul is torn,
i seek shelter in your love's dome.
you're a walk in the fresh mountain air,
you're the vigour and enthusiasm at a country fair,
you're a blessing thats benn granted, you're a wish thats come true,
Thank you

The Poem With No Title

This poem is about a doctor in severe need of money who is going to perform an abortion. He is talking to the child being aborted, feeling sorry for what he’s about to do and the repentance that is associated with this deed. Could not think of any title for this one, so the weird name

I’m sorry for what I’m gonna do,
I’m sorry for what I’m gonna put you through,
Believe me, I never wanted to be this way,
The world is cruel,not everyone can have their say.
I’m not the kind of man I might seem to be,
I know that when I leave this world,hell is awaiting me.

As I put you to sleep,
Its my soul that weeps,
And now I’m gonna ease your pain,
I’m never gonna be able to see my face again.
I’m shaken, my hands are betraying me,
They’ve become so numb, am breathing painfully,
I’ll never know how you feel in there,
But what I feel outside is pandemonium everywhere,
Its not you alone who’ll be the victim of this sin,
There’ll be two souls that die today,
My mind is choking now,
The lights have gone out,
Reality is staring me in my face,
I’m an assassin, I’m a killer, I’m humanity’s disgrace.
Its an act against God, it’s a sacrilege to take a life,
I’ve turned pale,, I’ve turned white, my conscience is poking me with knives.
I’ve degraded my existence,
With a heavy heart my body is laden,
Tie me down, tie me tight,
Shut the doors of the iron maiden.

And now that I have plagued you with the serum of death,
Darkness descends me,I’m gasping for breath,
I’ve made my life a bloody hell,
In peace I shall live no more,
For what awaits me now,
It all has repentance in store.

The Day I Died

It was an ordinary day,
Except that I died,
My knees turned weak,
My head swerved,
My eyes turned red,
My feelings still unnerved.
I was sitting down,
I was sitting still,
My thoughts ran a mock
Like Adam’s ale in a water mill.
My body felt hollow,
My voice an echo of despair,
Like a heartbroken Romeo,
damaged beyond repair.
I’ve killed myself,
Its not that I never tried,
Am so ashamed of myself,
There’s no place to hide.
What brought along this crisis,
Was it pain, was it grief?
Was it a trust
beyond belief?
I don’t know the answer,
I’m just too naïve,
I’m just another fellow,
I’ve made my life a strife.
Should I pity myself,
Should I weep and mourn my death?
Should I avenge the perpetrators who
took away my breath?
Of the moments that were,
Of the moments that have been,
I’ve never seen life depart so fast,
in the times that I have seen.
Like a zombie I crave for existence,
My flesh all bashed and torn,
beneath the fake smiling mask,
that for long I have worn.
Oh help me, oh help me,
The cries are for god to hear,
A punishment grouse than this one,
Well, dats for me to fear.
But im dead,it doesn’t matter,
the dead do no talking,
if u still see me around you,

Its not me, its just a Dead Man Walking.

And Why..........

Allrite, so this poem basically should not be here, it doesn't belong to the world of blogs, but ...well....i just cheated myself in posting it, so here it goes.....


And why i think about you a lot,
is a thought i frequently ask from me,
i stay up long thoughtful nights,
looking for answers to this only,
why am i gleefully excited for one sight of yours?
why one faint whisper of your voice can keep me smiling for hours?
over all this i ponder,
what brings out such glee,
are you a magician?
or is it crazy me????
When you search for the answers,
you'll be perplexed too,
coz the reasons if you wanna get,
you'll have to meet you.

When You're Not Here

Life's a lie when you're not here,
Its a world full of dismay,
life's a lie when you're not here,
not with me by my side,
even the rainbow seems grey.

I feel so empty to the core,
how long this pain i have to bear,
life's a lie when you're not here,
time is one painful ride,
shadows of sadness everywhere.

So yesterday.........for you all

I am not someone who likes to think too much of times gone by. I dont wanna recollect what my thoughts were ten months ago,ten days ago,ten hours ago or even ten minutes ago. Really, i find it absurd when people assimilate those huge heaps(well,in case they are digital pics,those large folders) of photographs that are so gigantic in size,it would even put the nuclear arsenal of the United States of whatever to shame. Though i do find once a while peek-a-boo at these historical remains appropriate,but my anguish is with those who indulge in nostalgia par acceptance. Now they might argue that "knowing your past helps you be in better contact with your present", but let me tell you what most have in mind. Either they'll think about their golden ages,times when they were more than happy and rue the fact that such moments of glory have gone away. Or,they'll think about their 'dark ages' and mourn what a bitch life is. Either ways,all i have seen is scornful expressions on faces that entwine themselves with the act in question. And it is for this reason and this reason alone,many are so stuck in their past that they have no clue what they should be upto in present.
All their time is spent holding onto the remnants of either a glorious conquest or a catastrophic failure.I like to look at the past too,to bask in the snapshots of victories that were. It would be self-destruction if i let them interfere with what i am today or manipulate the decisions i would make with the choices before me. I am someone who has seen the most magnificient of moments and shoved my way past the tragic ones. But i know one thing, they all are gone. I love my past for being there but i'll never scrape out a moment of delve upon unnecessarily. The time that was has gone. So yesterday........for you all,does not exist.

The Way You Make Me Feel

The way you make me feel
is like the ground with the first drops of rain,
like a man on verge of extinction,
given the chance of being born again.
I cannot possibly explain it,
i cant but what i feel show,
you can never possibly imagine,
but i do want you to know,
that if there possibly is a goddess,
that walked the earth in our days,
would be here,would be now,would be you,
I'm lost in your mysterious ways.
I open my eyes and i see you,
i close them and you're still there,
i run away from myself and you,
but somehow you're still near.
I stay awake looking at the stars,
the patterns they all appear to be the same,
for in every direction i look at,
they seem to be shouting your name.
In the quiet murmur of the breeze,
that goes meandering about the night,
its funny coz it seems to be shouting,
your name left,center and right.
And i see it all before me,
before the heaven then i kneel,
and i take it all with a quiet smile,
coz dats the way you make me feel.

An Evening with Myself

Its not everyday one gets the privilege to share an evening with goddess Parvati. I had it today. In the nearly one odd hour that I spent with her, we both admiring the varied fauna sporadically populated by the creations of the so called homo-sapiens. The view was plain and clear. There was a fountain, a magical one, for even though there was’nt any Adam’s Ale in it, it shimmered with the gleam of a polished pearl laid out in the pellets of sunlight that the mighty sun god showered upon it. The raised open air theatre that added to the scene a modern touch was certainly an eye-sore.Beyond it was a vast plethora of the gigantic eucalyptus trees that were blocking my view of another architectural wonder, or so it seemed.
A few benches were scattered around like grain spread before the pigeons at Trafalgar Square. I turned my gaze towards Lord Shiva’s bride once more. Cast out of granite, the 12th century statue adorning the likes of one Arts Gallery was a marvel of human artistry. Seated in the ‘padmasana’, she was adorned with ornaments, that though cast out of stone, were on any day glistening more than those on a bride at a pompous Punjabi wedding.
It was a sunny day, a peculiar one at that, for though the sun was beating down hard upon my face (and mind you, It can beat down real hard in this weather), there was no resentment on my part to the open hostility, for I was feeling a much welcome peace of mind descending upon me, and looking back at the year gone by, it was a welcome respite.
It was nearly end of the evening now, and my rendezvous with the gods was over. No wait, it was a rendezvous with myself?????? That my friend is over or not, I don’t know.

Little While Longer

I know you have to go,
I know you have to leave,
I know you will be back tomorrow,
Together these moments glorious we will weave.
But baby, oh baby ,stay on, just a little while longer.

A smile from you darling makes my day,
Not once, not twice, sweetheart, everyday.
The lovely looks that you give me, So enchanting, so true,
How can I stop myself from coming to you?
Those unending strolls we take,
Talking about our lives,
Your giggles, your style, your radiant blushes,
Baby, they cut like knives.
Your thoughts on how one’s life should be make me stronger,
Baby ,oh baby, stay on, just a little while longer.

I thought I’d never be in love,
I thought I’ll stand alone,
Now I see what a sacrilege it would have been,
If the lonely road I had gone.
For you are beauty personified by nature in all its might,
You’re the essence that emanates when music and moonlight unite.
You’re the serenade of the nightingale chanting up in the trees,
You’re the teardrop on the cheek of eternity on whom time freezes.
Who would then want you away even for a moment, on that you ponder,
Baby, oh baby, stay on, just a little while longer.
Yeah, baby, oh baby, stay on, just a little while longer.

Contemplations of a Naked Soul

Alone in the highlands,
walks my soul free,
searching for answers its never been told,
probing the events that have been a mystery,
waiting for surprising
events to unfold.

Its this way or that,
its that way or this,
is knowledge an awakening?
Is ignorance a bliss?

I question all my reasoning,
I sit down and ponder,
O' what an evil thing it is,
they say makes the heart go fonder.

The soul of a government office

Now what is it with government servants that offends so many people?

I’ve perennially heard more than a mouthful of rather not so appeasing expletives being hurled at these inscrutable upholders of the government work.

Is it the way they dress? Those sadistic shirts that have never known how it feels like to be drenched in the vibrance of red or the calmness of sky blue. All they know is about the existence of white ,grey or in case if its your lucky day, even the occasional khaki.

Or is it the sardonic expressions that seem to scream in your face that you have just made the gravest blunder of your whole life by coming here.

Whatever there is, one may never understand for one does not possess the required intelligence as ‘they’ define it. One can only do as much as to observe.

Annotating a bit further on these mysterious creatures of the third kind, one but cannot refrain from mentioning a line or two about the penchant they have for tea. Yes my friends, its tea, after all these years the secret has been revealed. The ultimate elixir of life, the epitome of any nutritious meal or binge. Sometimes I have pity on the so called drug addicts who languish in rehabs and jails for I feel they are no match for the ferocity of angst that any member of the community of the topic in question can exhibit when he/she is eluded from the “amrit” as they will have us believe.

Here I am forced to recall a small story I heard as a kid about two lions that after suffering injustices in the circus decide to flee, but in the moment of heat, end up fleeing in opposite directions. Amazingly, they come back 6 months later, one of them weak and wretched and the other hail and hearty. A snippet of their conversation goes as follows:

LION1 (hail and heart): what makes you come back o king of the jungle?

LION2 (weak and wretched): I ran towards the desert, couldn’t find anything to eat, was on the verge of dying, so came back. At least I get food here. Why did you come back my dear one?

LION1: Well, I was trapped in a government office, hid under the stairs and used to eat a government servant everyday, as evident from my health. Nobody seemed to mind or look into the disappearance. Then one day yesterday, I made a mistake, I ate up their “tea-vendor” and the office was up in arms to find the disappeared soul. A soul indeed of the government office.

Father and Son

O' little one,
what makes you cry?
did you trip a stone,
looking at the skies?
I know what it feels,
to see your dreams shatter,
be brave,thrust forth,
for its all that matters.
Believe me,i did it and i am so happy today.

O' little one,
what makes you weep?
are those tears because of people,
who don't promises keep?
Well,that my dear,
is the way of the world
stand up,stand tall
raise up your head unfurled.
look,there is the world begging you to come along.

O' little one,
whats that trickling from your eyes?
is that the gal my son,
who said goodbye?
she was never there,
else here she would be
soon you'll forget her
and there shall be glee
on the face that says how much you loved her.

O' little one,
do i see a smile?
you're strong my son
that smile'll last a while
You've got it all,
that others pray for and more,
keep up the good work,
and believe me,there is much more in store.
for all you have lived so far is a minscule fraction of your life.

O' little one,
my million lives for your laughter,
look around,
here's your family now,and after
with your friends by your side always,
what more can you ask?
revel,binge and marvel,
may in the sunshine of happiness you bask.
and look upon your old man whenever in need again you be.

Just Try

I take my time,
to see through me,
what false truths, what truthful lies
a moment of glee,
a stupendous wonder,
a glance above at the quiet skies
And history beckons with the moments past,
I wish they were here now but good times dont last
or do they? well, its the way we perceive
the web of stories and memories we weave.
Truly blessed is the blameless vestal's lot,
its a bliss to remember what you want and forget what you not,
Trust the stars that lie before,
they guide one through and smiles galore,
for things have passed and are passing by,
future's in your face, make it best......just try!