Life has started mesmerizing me,
Advent and departure of thou timid soul,
in flashes she touches and in flashes she leaves us alone,
burning in the rage to know the oblivious,
myself found in the spell of thee,
Yes, life has started mesmerizing me.
Ticklish the path
and stringent the means,
deep in the core, lies the zeal
to rove on as we must,
free at last the sturdy of lust.
Wrangler- no doubt,
has chosen her own prairie,
Yes, life has started mesmerizing me.
Stunningly beautiful, yet unseen;
a voyage demanding, no demand to be keen.
Firmly and gently she plays with me,
perplexing with desire to get feel of thee.
I turn to her and she smiles at me,
fears shy away as reality strives;
a day shall come,
when I shall be the chosen one,
the womb shall play the cradle
and life shall born out from the alive
ordeal shall end and adversity shall flee
nightly and gently I will hold her to my knee
Yes, life has started mesmerizing me.
Saturday 24 November 2007
Sunday 22 July 2007
Dreams
Dreams often ask me,
Why did I desert them?
Why I no longer walk their way
Why I no more stop by and say hello
The melody of colours no longer resonates
And the dreams don’t last a dreamy night
Dreams often ask me,
Why did I desert them?
Thursday 19 July 2007
Conflict
To be or not to be?
A moment to question,
But the moment is not too keen.
The real and the unreal…
Presents the tug of war at hand.
Even as the unreal snide away the treachery of the real,
The train moves to a world unseen;
And I saunter away into what could have been!
Tuesday 8 May 2007
Silence
Sometimes silence speaks more than words,
murkiness in the eyes remain lured,
facets remain mired,
because we are all living in our own shells;
water gets into the creeks,
and we choose to remain silent as ever!
murkiness in the eyes remain lured,
facets remain mired,
because we are all living in our own shells;
water gets into the creeks,
and we choose to remain silent as ever!
A Nut in the Nut Shell
In case you are wondering about the nut shell, let me not keep you wondering for too long. Nut Shell is a big hole in the only Mango tree in a huge Cashew nut farm in the Godsland. The mango tree is growing old and, therefore, struggles during monsoon. Its branches compete with the wild rain that is always aspiring to overpower the mango tree. However, the mango tree prefers silence over cribbing. There are other trees in this farm and, of course, there are other farms near the Cashew nut farm.
The Nut Shell has a little nut inside. Well the nut is not so little but, prefers not to take a leap into the adult world. Alas, she doesn’t have a choice! She is growing nevertheless. Trying to make a life in the shell is not so difficult but, she says, it isn’t that easy either. She usually nods when she means yes. She also nods when she means no. And in between nodding to and fro, she is scared of the walls in the shell. The walls claim that they are no walls at all. But the little nut thinks that boundaries are just that. Like shackles they bind those who are strangers to what lies beyond borders. Those beyond borders never worry about shackles, they are only amazed to see them. Life existing within four walls- an idea that continues to catch fancy of those who create these walls. They are genius at that. ‘Innovations in designing walls are a very upcoming field’, the nutty nut was told by the squirrel living under the bridge. The bridge isn’t very far away. But the bridge doesn’t bridge anything. There is no water in the river flowing beneath it. That doesn’t mean it is no river. The river continues to flow reminiscing about its earlier glory; sometimes it appears to bridge the gap between present and future. There is hardly any water now; there will be none soon.
Amidst her mundane life in the nutshell, the nut frequently sits with her diary. She loves recording her mundane everyday nothings like how many cashew nuts she ate during a week. It isn’t that tough to count. There are hardly any cashew nuts, most getting dried up. Most trees do not even have a green leaf left. Often, the nut has to do a marathon before getting to eat her piece in complete solitude. Between us, she tries to pretend there is a competition. There isn’t any in reality. The nut loves running, despite not knowing towards what, from what or sometimes even for what. To be on the run means she is up and active, else she would be like the meek bridge looking at the river below, or like the old mango tree sighing in his own silence. She doesn’t want to be still or silent. She wants to live and so she is constantly on the run, screaming, chirping, jumping, whooping...She is our main protagonist-The Nut in the Nutshell.
The Nut Shell has a little nut inside. Well the nut is not so little but, prefers not to take a leap into the adult world. Alas, she doesn’t have a choice! She is growing nevertheless. Trying to make a life in the shell is not so difficult but, she says, it isn’t that easy either. She usually nods when she means yes. She also nods when she means no. And in between nodding to and fro, she is scared of the walls in the shell. The walls claim that they are no walls at all. But the little nut thinks that boundaries are just that. Like shackles they bind those who are strangers to what lies beyond borders. Those beyond borders never worry about shackles, they are only amazed to see them. Life existing within four walls- an idea that continues to catch fancy of those who create these walls. They are genius at that. ‘Innovations in designing walls are a very upcoming field’, the nutty nut was told by the squirrel living under the bridge. The bridge isn’t very far away. But the bridge doesn’t bridge anything. There is no water in the river flowing beneath it. That doesn’t mean it is no river. The river continues to flow reminiscing about its earlier glory; sometimes it appears to bridge the gap between present and future. There is hardly any water now; there will be none soon.
Amidst her mundane life in the nutshell, the nut frequently sits with her diary. She loves recording her mundane everyday nothings like how many cashew nuts she ate during a week. It isn’t that tough to count. There are hardly any cashew nuts, most getting dried up. Most trees do not even have a green leaf left. Often, the nut has to do a marathon before getting to eat her piece in complete solitude. Between us, she tries to pretend there is a competition. There isn’t any in reality. The nut loves running, despite not knowing towards what, from what or sometimes even for what. To be on the run means she is up and active, else she would be like the meek bridge looking at the river below, or like the old mango tree sighing in his own silence. She doesn’t want to be still or silent. She wants to live and so she is constantly on the run, screaming, chirping, jumping, whooping...She is our main protagonist-The Nut in the Nutshell.
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