Sunday, November 11, 2012

Ah! to be that river!




Originating from the peaks,
Of mountains steep and high,
Gurgling and dancing and singing,
A beautiful river flows by.

It runs through plains and plateaus,
And unwinds its way out,
Of deep and green valleys,
Twisting and turning about.

It stumbles over little pebbles,
Stones and rocks and boulders,
Yet fighting its way through,
It emerges out victorious!

Pure as fire, holy as a prayer,
A crystal, clear and bright,
Shining like gold in the sun,
And like silver in moonlight!

It is a never ending saga ,
That only goes on forever.
Living in the present ,
unmindful of the past or the future.

Thus ultimately it merges,
With the vast and deep blue sea,
A confluence of determined rivers,
A heaven, it happens to be!

There are other rivers that have,
Stopped having come a little way,
Ending up as small pools of water,
Never reaching the bay.

Their existence futile and cursed,
No parched soul they quench,
Just stagnant,muddy and lifeless,
A pool of stink and stench!

Ah! To be that river!
So brave and clear and pure,
Is so blessed and divine ,
Than a filthy life endure!

(The Diwali clean up yielded this poem tucked away in a yellowed diary...written by me eons ago!! there was something about the child-like yet inspiring poem...thought i'd share....)
(Pic courtesy: Google images)

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Tongue (un)tied?





“Watch out, you moron!” screamed Ankit through his car window, looking at the two bikers speeding by on the highway.

‘Hmm…A Harley Davidson! Cool bike but lousy rider’ he thought. They had come real close to his car and he hoped they had not dented his ‘baby’. He braked to a halt for a closer inspection of his shining black sedan.

“Marega Sala” he cursed as he touched the spot that had been scrapped off showing an ugly mark in its place.

He got back into his car still cussing under his breath, fretting about the dent. He had driven a couple of miles, when he saw a huge crowd blocking almost the entire road. He peeped out calling for someone from the crowd.

‘Hello bhaiyaji…..Is there a problem? Why the traffic jam?”

“Accident sir, two bikers just crashed into a slow moving truck carrying heavy iron rods. Both were dead on the spot.”

Beads of perspiration started to form on Ankit’s forehead as he got down from his car and walked to the place of the accident. He couldn’t look on beyond a minute. The mangled remains of the Harley Davidson and the bloodbath around it revealed a gory story. Two lifeless bodies lay nearby awaiting the police and ambulance to transport them.

He reached home looking quite disturbed. Neha, who was tending to her garden, saw him and ran to the driveway.

“You look like you just saw a ghost. Why so pale and dull, love? Anything happened?”

He recounted the happenings of the day narrating how guilty he felt for having cursed them. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. They were not driving carefully. Maybe they would have met with the accident even if you had not cursed them. Stop feeling so guilty.”

“or maybe not…” he said eyes closed in thought.

Neha cuddled his head, giving him a hug, as he stood begrudging himself. 

“It’s ok baby…it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not a one off incident Neha, this has started becoming eerily repetitive!” he threw his jacket on sofa and slumped into it, staring blankly at the wall.

“You are only imagining things, Ankit. You cannot just say something for it to happen.”

“Oh really? Well, you remember the article I wrote about Vikram and his struggle with cancer? About how brave he was being, how he was an inspiration to everyone...blah …blah..? And what happened? He passed away couple of days after that article got published. How do you explain that? Maybe I have a cursed tongue or something.”

“He was struggling. He was dying anyway. We both know that. That article was a co-incidence.”

“Would you call Neelima didi’s bus accident a co-incidence? The bus had its entire right side ripped off. All eighteen people on the right side suffered grievous injuries. You know why? All because of this,” he said pointing to his tongue, “this damned cursed thing.”

“Ankit, my love, you did not cause that accident. You merely told didi to sit on the left side of the bus.”

“I told her, 'didi sit on the left hand side; even if there’s an accident, the impact is lesser there'. Am I a freak? Why did I have to say such things?”

“But that saved her life, didn’t it?”

“That is not the point. I kind of find that freaky. I cannot explain why I said what I did.”

“Well, well…let’s prove that all this is a co-incidence, ok? So say something just like that, umm…say that something will happen to me”, she tried to make him see reason.

“Are you trying to make fun of me? It doesn’t work like that girl. I don’t think about what I say. I just say it. Ok?”

“Say this roof is going to collapse on my head”, she suggested gesturing to the ceiling and smiling.

“Neha….”


“Hmm…..how about the gas, is it going to explode as I turn it on. Say it and let me try,” she said walking to the kitchen.

“Neha, don’t…..”

Without waiting for him to finish, she continued, “am I going to get electrocuted? or  perhaps fall down and break my leg?”

“yea, woman, go break your leg! Enough Neha, you are unbelievable.” He sighed and walked to his room.


“I am only trying to tell you that you are worrying unnecessarily”, he heard her voice trail off as he shut the door of his room.

“Ahhh…..ouch….Ankit…” he heard Neha’s blood curdling scream and the sound of something falling down with a thud. He rushed out to see what happened.

He saw Neha sprawled on the floor. Apparently with her leg broken, having slipped over, he wondered over what!

image courtesy :google

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Raavana



There was once a big guy with a lot of heads. On a particular day when the combined grey matter of all his heads were in resting stage, he unceremoniously kidnapped a married woman and whisked her off to his exotic land. He regretted his decision pretty soon. For he paid for it with all his heads rolled off his proud and arrogant neck.

The once mighty Raavana is paying for it every year since. As thousands of years later, people still find it entertaining to see his head blasted off with crackers. Amidst festivities and distribution of sweets.


In the very same place as the festivities, thousands of women are being whisked off unceremoniously every day. Putting even the mighty Raavava to shame! But the modern Raavana walks tall with his proud and arrogant head still intact on his head. The wails of the outraged women notwithstanding. 

Wonder when these Raavanas will pay for their sins? Wonder why this lopsided justice? Wonder…?

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Memories



Abhay pulled up his trousers for the umpteenth time like every day. He almost did it subconsciously like it was akin to breathing.  But he never wore a belt. Wearing a belt brought back painful memories.

Memories.

Those of his father. Of the putrid smell of alcohol mixed with smoke. Of his towering, overpowering presence in their shanty. Of being thrashed mercilessly. Of the blue and red strips on his back and hands and legs and face. Across his ears. Yeah, that incident had left him partially deaf. And partially blind. He remembered withering away slowly. The years of wetting his bed after evenings of whippings.  The feeling of sleeping on a bed of thorns. The ache penetrating every nerve ending in his body.

Memories.

Beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead as he thought about them. He felt a pool of water forming at his feet. His trouser soaking in the warm wetness. His slippers starting to smell.

Memories.

The silver cold metal against his warm hands. Before he could realize, his fingers slid effortlessly into the groove underneath. They landed a string of six messengers of death into his father’s head. The smell of burnt flesh pervaded his senses as he bent down to feel his father’s pulse. There was no sign of life. He removed the ragged belt snaking around the rotund belly of his tormentor and fastened it around his neck like a noose. 

Just to be sure. 

Just symbolically.

He smiled. And pulled up the trouser weighed down by the wetness. The smell didn’t bother him any more.

The brown belt. It was no more.

They were now just memories.

Word-o--logy









 Tanya's word-o-logy is a fun idea to play along....This is a game to associate words with set themes... 

my ten:

1.Rain               : romance
2.luxury            : sleep
3.dreams          : ephermal
4.sunday          : lazy
5.love                : crazy
6.road trip        : leisure                         
7.blogging       : kit and kaboodle                  
8.wife                :reverse psychiatry
9.books            :epiphanous
10.school         :collywobbles                    



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