A Tale

We script a tale
Oh! so beautiful a tale
With roses and orchids
velvet,satin and silk spreads
We script a tale

We sing a song
Oh! so lovely a tune
It makes the heart smile
Renders the soul speechless
We sing a song

We write a book
Oh! how eloquent it sounds
Enthralls the world
held by hook, refuses to let go
We write a book

We commit robbery
Ah! the clever strategy
It almost brings a tear to the eye
leaving behind misery and gossip
we commit a robbery

We execute a murder
Ah! look at the symmetry
the blood flow,akin to lust
for a gnaw on a rotten paralytic stump
We execute a murder

We script a tale
We sing a song
We write a book
We commit robbery
We execute a murder

Oh! dear, didn't we
introduce ourselves?

Fear not, you are the next.....

Ouch
Sigh
Stop
Take a deep breath
its just another day

Wait
Stop
Look
You are late again
its just another day

Hear
See
feel
Is it noon already?
its just another day

dont talk
dont look
dont act
Its her again
and you are invisible

sigh
Its just another day

pack up
leave
forget
today never happened
its just another day

Ouch
Sigh
Stop
Take a deep breath
its just another night...

Mine.

i sit reading blogs and notes,
gasping and lynching with admiration
all the time wondering
what happened to me?

They tell me my page is redundant
my creativity is limited
I turn to answer them and meet nobody
what happened to me?

Lost in a crowd i try to pen a few lines
hopeless thoughts rushing around in mindless swirl
no one is looking, i steal ideas, i am creative
what happened to me?

I am creative, i do not write much,
i think, smug in this thought i move
till i see a kid with books penning some verse\
i wait and watch, i see something i like, i forge myself
I am creative

I turn on the computer, switch on music
wait, where is my music?
he heard this, i heard this on her phone, I might have heard this on VH1
i heard and i answered my duty, i was loyal
i flicked it, i am creative

I see a movie, a run of the mill to me it seems,
after all whats the difference between a godard, tarkovsky or kubeck
they all made great movies, all i need is to is voice my first thought
then they will know that i am an original,
I am creative

I sit back read this poem with flourish
i have written it, the words are mine,
the context is mine,
the thought is......
(i check behind me)
Mine.....

We all live in turbulent times. Terrorism lends a constant specter on our lives. This wasn’t really the thought in my head as I ran to catch my local fast to reach office on time. But even before i could comfort myself on the thought that I made it to the train, something else caught my attention. This lady in a purple Gujarati sari at the door telling the train driver something or at least trying to get his attention to something. Now of course no one was bothered, so I decided to ask her what was troubling her. She turned to look at me actually surprised that someone was asking her or rather taking an interest. ‘ upper khali bag pada hai jo kiska nahi hai’ she says. And immediately my journalistic instincts come to the fore and I and I start actually searching for the bag. Seeing me actually hunt some other less interested passengers also take the effort to find out what happened. I finally find the bag in the other half of the compartment and actually wonder that this lady who found it there actually took the ads asking us to be serious and look out for empty bags seriously. Any way I ask the compartment if the bag is anybody’s property. And then starts the confusion. The same ladies who did not bother to think about the bag panic and start a commotion.

Meanwhile the overtly conscientious had managed to get the attention of the train driver who was quite wondering if this whole thing was a joke. A brown color khaki dressed worker who had seen this whole commotion was quite some time finally decided to get done with and walked into the compartment and lifted the bag. And then I realized something really important, the so-called brave mumbaiker who actually saves people’s lives was just like this man who was risking his life and who wanted to that done with. Most of the hundreds who had saved countless lives had done it just like him, without a thought of what will happen in the next moment, or if he will live to see it. In this situation this guy probably knew the fact that it was probably a hoax but when one uses him as a microcosm in the whole picture we get to see the actual face of the tired hapless mumbaiker who actually saves people in times of disaster.

Anyways coming back to my story, the bag actually turned out to be a broken one abandoned by some one who didn’t think that it would cause so much of a mystery or be a doppelganger for a bomb. All’s well the train started and the conscientious lady went back to her knitting while the rest of the ‘scared’ passengers went back to relating the experience to their loved ones on the phone. In the midst of all this I realized that there were quite a number of students in the train who silently went on solving their maths problems and just spared an amused glance towards this lady who raised the commotion. And in their amusement I saw something more clearly than anything. I kind of saw the cause and the reason for the terrorists actually achieving success in their bomb blasts. I saw apathy, which was a lot more chilling than the fact that I had just been saved by a mere ‘uneducated’ lady.

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign
improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve
crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap
crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib
cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger
fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake
smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile
kill....

Nameless one

Upon lonely roads
We tread,
Holding hands together
We feel the sudor

We squirm at this
Yet look on
to find a future
among foggy roads

She turns while walking
seeing him overcoming a hurdle
with unmentionable ease
his posture set his eyes ahead

she turns her gaze on herself
doodling on the pages of her memory
uncertainty any movement
she feels the water trickle down

she pushes these incertitude of thoughts
her sore throat quelling her voice
she sits through lectures writing crappy poems
and yet the devices find soul

What is the point?
the cynic questions
strangers walk past averting their gaze
the hypocrisy stinks itself
she still walks silently

the sweat now mildly disconcerting

she quizzes herself
time and again
the past, the present, the future
all swirl in a mixture of cliques
she grasps an answer through this mess
'you are a fool' she condemns herself

he still walks on
her slowing pace lengthening his worth
'let her rest' he contemplates
for the journey is far ahead

little he knows her thoughts
her trembling hands he steadies
ready to battle all her fears
he knows not her demons

Quietly she readies herself
loosening his grip keeping calm
far ahead far behind she sees a fork
she knows not, the moment is long gone.


Jalimelys88

Mindless Banter

Reticent motions addle the brains,
Spring dosent seem that lively,
Rains dampen the spirit
What am I doing here?

Roads, mists, forks, choices,
Symmetry and analysis
Have lost meaning,
What am I doing here?

Poem, poetry, prose, plot, analogues,
Narrative, speech, words, actions,
Interpretations mean a pig’s ass
What am I doing here?

If persuasion is meaningless,
If perversion is a mockery,
If capacious is a pursuit of the foolhardy
What am I doing here?

Swati D'souza

Magic, A Kiss and Some More Magic

Have you ever wondered what you and I would have done without the staple feed of magic and its various Branches, How a miserable riot of mundane activities could have strangled and suffocated us beneath its succulent self? But we really do not have to bother of it now do we? With Harry Potter Movie (being the latest in the stable of Magical and other world fantasy movies) our magical Appetites have been more than satisfied.

After all the rules that one has heard about not comparing the movie with the book this one actually belies the presumption. It’s an adaptation worth being proud of for David Yates. Ardent fans like me would often discuss the sketchy adaptation and the poor image by which it resembled the book. However book 5 was something that I remember myself to have said that “god I am so not seeing the movie” for nothing else but the long length of the dialogues and the most boring build-up to the end unlike the other books. However one would be most surprised if the movie were to say something about the book. Every unwanted bit has been edited and thrown away in the garbage heap of unused HP parts in the book.

And yet story or no story Hollywood sure knows how to kiss (or rather show one). Having practiced for 33 times Harry “Daniel” Potter would now have to be a pro at going about the process in the forthcoming series. As usual like the other HP movies the sidekicks (Ron and Hermione) really have no other role to play in the movie except for filling up the frame. The Weasely twins too would have cringed at the length of the role and would have probably bombed the HP set with their Weasely Bombs. Daniel Radcliffe thus being the center of the plot gives us his best skills hitherto in acting. Without setting the stage alight he manages to convey his anguish subtly. Ralf Fiennes in his Voldemort bit sure does make us shake in the boots. However the most disappointing bit in the whole story for any fan would have to be the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort. A blink-and-you-will-miss-it one never really knows where is the extended fight with the wizard, goblin and the elf.

With Eragon being the disappointing one this one sure makes up for the not only itself but also the other not-so-great HP movies. Probably not so much better than the fourth it makes one really believe that Harry lives, the “kiss” lives and more than anything the Magic Lives. And yet if not anything it keeps our panting quiet and our thirsts quenched at least till the last Volcano in the series. “TO HARRY”

THis was written as part of some project so decided to post it onto a redundant blog

The Colours of the Pink City

It’s not everyday that one gets to savor a typical rajasthani cuisine or hear stories about the Rajas and Maharajas and get transported in time. Therefore when the opportunity arose for us to visit Jaipur, we jumped and grabbed the chance with two hands.

Of Course one must look into the trivialities of reaching the destination, therefore the tickets were booked and there we were in the New Year on our way through a chilly night. Our destination of Ranthambore via the Sawai Madour junction didn’t disappoint us in any way except probably for the lack of tigers. The chilliness in the air did a lot to increase our vigor towards play and food which was just too good. However the tigers disappointed us. Two hours of sun, dust and more dust which left most of us looking like carpenters and yet we saw no tigers nor any paw. However the Rajasthani folk dance at night soared our spirits also made us conscious of the fact that city bred folks need to learn a lot more from rural India about culture. The next morning after a visit a long climb and a dekko of a local fort we were off to Jaipur and Chowkidhanee. Thoughts of shopping lanes and more rajasthani delicacy created mirages throughout the way in everyone’s head.

And Chowkidhanee refused to disappoint that mirage. The exotic village make-believe enthralled us for a good 2 hours with its Kadai Doodh, Hair Massage, Mehendi Palmistry and a lot more. However it was the gastronomic food will keel the place alive in our hearts for the sheer size and taste of the meal. Truly we had enough of a Rajasthani meal and yet craved for more. The next day we finished of with our industrial visit of a Newspaper and a Radio Station both of which we learnt and enjoyed but we had seen better earlier (being in Bombay that is). The Jantar Mantar and Amer fort held our interest purely because of the artistry and sheer magnificence of the place and the knowledge of building in that era. A new jaipuri band was formed: the “Neel Kants”, which happily kept us occupied during the night along with the ‘Dj nite’. However our hearts were impatient for shopping and thus we awarded with a full 2 hours for shopping. For shoppoholics this would be slander but we had a train to catch.

With bags ranging with bed sheets for the house to ethinic jaipuri camel ethnic chappls, we were ready to enter the train. On the way back memories of the trip, its food as well as the last trip to Delhi plagued us. But a novel game of black jack soon kept us busy throughout the journey and with a blink we were back to the dust and grime of Bombay with nothing but our souvenirs and the thought of the gastronomic portions of rajasthani food to serve us company until the next trip.