Another Morning

It’s another morning here, miles away
No, lifetimes away
Away from the evenings of shared smiles
As we straddled, haggled with the vendors

I see another row of neatly arranged boxes
No, cartons that carry food
Not just to exist, but survive
Survive the mundane conversations on right and left

Another sun here shines bright at my smile
No, a stifled sob, a swallowed grief
On the murder of throbbing life
Painted on the outside with hollow laughter and love

Yet another ride, high over the seas
No, over the highway of life
Only, I don’t fear the potholes of your tradition
Of love paid only through the needle of your sacred thread

It’s another evening here, dreams away
No, nightmares away
Away from the mornings of prayerful submission
To purified stone gods that putrefied the soul

I see another of row of bright yellow flowers
No, little love poems floating in my garden
Not just to cuddle, but live
Live to see the face of truth, face of pain, the face of God

Sickled Through!

When the lights dim
As a thousand stars light the dark sky
Your words lit the darkness that clouded my heart
Slowly, but surely
You nudged away the flickering light
Stationed yourself as my reading light

Was it a mistake?
A slip of your tongue.
An error in my understanding
Or in your lesson
Words from your mouth
Sweet nothings, faded, as the lights went out

A buzz you were in the depths of my heart
An imagination is what you think
Perhaps you are right
As always
Crashed yourself in
And walked away like none happened

Can you possibly know this?
Perhaps, never again
Will you take this road again.
I may be standing,
Please be informed, there’s no more me
For, you have sickled me through

Don't, Yes, Don't, No

Don’t laugh, yes, don’t laugh
Not because it annoys me dry
But, cause it scares me
Each time your laughter chimes
In my ears
A million doors open
Doors, I have locked, never to open again
But, your laughter
Pries open my heart
Catches me unawares
Makes my eyes moist

Don’t talk, yes, don’t talk
Not because it bores me through
But, cause it opens my mind
Each time you talk
In my heart
A thousand rivulets start to flow
Dams, I had built, always to lock the flow
But, your words
That sound like poetry
Make me dream
As my lips curl into a silly smile

Don’t smile, no, don’t smile
Not because it disturbs me
But, cause it threatens to stay on me forever
As I walk
Your smile plays on my lips
Like a never ending song in my heart
A sweet song in my ears
As your smile becomes mine
Does mine become yours?
No, don’t laugh, don’t
Not because it annoys me dry…

Keys

Between door hinges, atop the window panes
I have hidden the keys to my house
As you stand knocking, the same strange
Smell of blood wafts through the hinge
Shutting up my ears, running helter skelter
Groping in the dark, finding more darkness
Human-shaped shadows
Hope-shaped jokes
Yet another crash awaits my house
Yet another thunder bolt
Your knock grows louder, as the first cracks start to appear
I hear your receding foot steps
Yet again, the doors have broken
Yet again, I lock my door alone
Struggling to hide the keys
Where there are no more hinges or windows
Where there is no more a house
Only keys to remind the house of dreams

My fixation with old Tamil songs - 1

Sometimes, when am blue or in a vague, sad mood, I hum an old favorite, or these days, log on to the internet and download some of these old gems and hear them to my heart’s content. I wonder what it is about old tamil songs that makes them so divine to hear; is it the melody or the lyrics; or is it the mixing of the two in the singer’s ethereal voice that transports you into the depths of the universe, to its very beginning when nothing, but everything existed together…

One song that’s my favorite is poojaiku vanda malare vaa…from the lyrics, it’s a song between a newly married couple. Some lyrics, especially the woman’s can jar at a few places where she refers to her partner as God, but, somehow, the melody and the joyous concoction the song creates is just unbelievable. One interesting part is the woman refers to how beautiful her man is! Such a lovely conversation between them ensues, and the music or the melody seems just a mere detail or a language used to communicate something deeper, something beyond words!

Another favorite is partha niyabagm illaiya…yet another masterpiece! The casual challenge the woman throws at her long lost lover is just unbeatable! What a feministic assertion! Unimaginable in today’s Tamil cinema.

I can go on and on about my fixation or fondness for old Tamil songs. It’s almost like an ocean where one wants to just remain in perpetual drowning!

Listen to some of them here. http://www.oldtamilsong.net/p.srinevaas%201.html

Ps: Will talk of sad songs at some other time; they need a longer and a deeper piece. :)

Rains! At last!

For the past 2 weeks, I have been making a fetish about waking up early so that I get more time to do everything I want to in my life! But, as some friends will smirk and roll their eyes and testify, I haven’t been very successful, but let’s say I have been a bit successful; please folks, have a heart, I have woken up early! Anyway, this post isn’t about my tryst with early mornings, but about today! Today, I didn’t wake up early! And why? Read on…

Delhi’s been burning, literally! People have been most inhospitable; I have been told not to come to their houses because either they are only half clad or because they themselves are dying to get out of their houses because the walls are hot and emanating hot sulphur! A lot of people have been caught sitting in the cars and running their engines so that they have AC! So much for climate change and the global warming lobby being active in Delhi! So, how has been my state: the less said the better!

In such a state, the heavens decided to open last night! In the evening, there was some breeze and some dark clouds. And, we Delhities are a loony lot and to acknowledge even this marginal change in weather, we decided to snack looking at the heavens. Perhaps, someone up there (my atheist friends, don’t take note!) decided to quench our throats and opened the flood gates. So, in the morning, I don’t even remember a moment before 8 O’ Clock! I woke up with a phone call from a friend suggesting a get together in the evening! All Delhities are loonies, I tell you and all it takes is just a change in the weather, and bingo!

Even then, I wasn’t sure what the outside will look like, and I gingerly made my way to the balcony, and ho! What a sight! Yes, green leaves, bright clear sky, wet roads, water logging! How much we missed all these! Of course, that was reason to get dressed in jeans and t-shirt even on a weekday! Anyway, it was a great morning, thanks to the weather! And, I will pardon myself for oversleeping today! After all, the rain gods have played a prank!

Ps: Re-reading it, it seems narcissitic! Anyway, please pardon me! I promise to be less narcissitic next time round!

Dried, forgotten tears

Dying strains of sound buried in a mire of silence
Sounds of despair, of hope, of undead love
An unquestioned birth into mirth
Silent, muted voices of dissent
Consumed in consumerist rusting of soul
Rotting of mind,
Unshed tears of wordless, numbing pain

Retreating within a cocoon of notes, blinded by darkness
Borrowed lines of expression
Of intimate pain, of sorrow, of loneliness in a desert
Parched, dry wells of living water
Bounded in boundaries of love and lust
Putrefying of soul,
Unspoken words of violence, stinging consent

(Ps: Written while listening to Bheegi Bheegi from the Hindi film, Gangster)

Seams of the Times

Collusion of minds and ideas
Within a sea of desire
Threatening the subsuming of identities
Of politics, of strange bed mates, and unrequited love

Mails and web pages between network servers
Firewalls and messengers
Outsmarting blocking software
Break out romances, friendships, liaisons

Rum and lemon do mix to a heady concoction
Scalding the throat, healing the soul
Wanting a neat shot on the rocks
To shock the rice grains off your hair

Headphones and ipods define the notes
The moods, to smile, to gloss, to perish
To steal a glance, to hide a tear
Of suspension between abandon and detachment

Blogs speak a million words, unmonitored
Out bursting of irresponsible history on the fly
Quoted in intellectuals circles
Facing banishment and righteous crucifixion

Strange Strangulations

Meandering deep within jungles runs many a rivulet
Knocking down rocks and debris left by the birthing of new life
A life breathing new, strange fragrance
Untouched by the world beyond, explaining the deepest jungle

Eking out an existence within a class lives many a life
Questioning control and hegemony left by the long gone property
A womb creating fresh, strange life
Unquestioned choice to produce and reproduce to the familial urge

Burning out the flesh of a high born lives many a low born
Attaining repugnance and decay left by texts authored by so-called gods
A strange beating of the sitting up, high-born corpse
Beaten to a pulp to accept subjection and unquestion humiliation

Awaiting

A staggered note, split by a second

A second longer

To hear the note again

To see magic

A moment of inspiration, split by a day

A day longer

To hear the divine whispers

To face serendipity

A seed of pain, split by a lifetime

A lifetime longer

To reclaim heaven

To pay for redemption

A dollop of joy, split by a universe

A universe longer

To savor a nugget of bliss

To catch rapture

For a close friend and fellow traveler

The warm voice wafted through
In assurance of my sanity

The wicked laughter stole in
In accordance with tradition

The violent temper threatened
In defiance of structural compromises

The hard-earned, glittering red purse strings opened
In solidarity with the human cause

The tempestuous sea broke at the seams
In pursuance of great ideals and dreams

The choking umbilical cord cut late at the roots
In joining the ever thinning revolution of tomorrow

A gift for gifting me

A gift for gifting me
My own soul
From the depths of darkness
Where it descended

Dark were the deep alleys
Snaking deeper into superstitions
My soul laid in wait
In the blind misery of lies

Left in the dark abyss
Spent the soul many a day ruing easy the poor fate
Risking redemption
End justifying the means

Seeping in was grime
Lies, betrayal, crime, pain came unannounced
Trampling my lost soul
Burying it in the deepest dens of human crime

A gift for gifting me
My own soul
From the depths of darkness
Where it descended

The den gave secret desires of freedom
Did I call you, or you found me
My whiff of fresh air
My purgatory

Was it a window I left open
Or, a floodgate
My soul flew away
Far into the soul of the universe

Came to me your words
Sweeter than honey to my taste
With promise of a font of love within
Made dry by human crime

Change, you said
For the better, my dear
Called me by my name
Stirred me from within

A gift for gifting me
My own soul
From the depths of darkness
Where it descended

Disclaimer: Ok people, don’t roll your eyes, curl your lips, stick out your tongue, slap your forehead, wring your hands, or punch the monitor! I just wrote something…just be civil, ok!

Reality, go away…

After copying and pasting other people’s ideas and thoughts, the ones that resonated with mine, it’s time for me pen down my own thoughts…well, does it really matter? People rarely stumble on my blog; even if they do, they don’t find my writing compelling enough to stir out a response. But, is that the only reason why I must write…for people to respond? Nothing could be more pathetic a reason a write. But, what could possibly be a reason for one to write…to lighten yourself? Or, for a transient high at seeing one’s ability to commit to virtual screen the subjective reality of one’s thoughts? Now these are more pathetic reasons to write…well, to say that am writing just because I want to write, without any expectations—I don’t want you to respond to what I have to say…am not inviting you for a discussion…am not even hoping you would have read so much to get till here—I believe is a ‘safe’ reason to write.

Somebody I admire a lot once said, “for some reason fiction dances out of me, whereas nonfiction is wrenched out.” She couldn’t be more correct. In real life, dreams happen/dance out of you as if they were there always, like a pleasant green meadow or a clear sky. And, events (reality!) are so out of place (wrenched out of you) like a parched dry land in the middle of an enormous ocean! Why do these things happen? Is this some sort of mystical law? The law that unites/homogenizes all things? Is this the law of subjective reality? Is my reality something so very far removed from the reality of person A? Is person A’s reality only a dream for me? Then, the law of unity doesn’t apply anymore, because my universe is governed by a different set of laws. Then, in that case, I need to be in a different plane of existence, where I don’t have to compete with someone whose reality has been only my dream. That person can never become an ‘ideal’ for me. I need a different world…a world that has no control…a world where I can be what I am…where I am not told to behave like a woman…where I don’t have to stay ‘where’ I am supposed to be…where the dalit is not a dalit; just a human. Where people don’t crush each other through economics, skin color, ‘God’s word,’ body type, or institutions like marriage, patriarchy, and capitalism.

How much longer will it take for dreams to come back…reality is sickening!