(unknown subject)

Long long time, no see.

Cuz as busy as a bee.

There are people who will miss

And others who will wish.

Against me coming back.

Cuz my posts (they claim) lack

The sanity of mere mortality.

I go beyond their mediocrity.

 

DEATH'S ANGEL

Maria the bitch is dying.

I sit by her bedside. Its been eight days she is vaging a losing battle with Death and simply refuses hell to take over. Stubborn that she is, even in this last journey of life she will have her way. She had been suffering for long and Death when it comes with its soothing voice will relieve her of her misery...and mine too. For now when I hold her hand and look at her kohl-lined eyes, pudgy with tears, I feel like the most desolate man on the planet. Helpless Lonely Wretched. Unable to bring Maria back to her normal impish self. I remember the times we shared when she would so royally, without regret screw my happiness. I would cry out then, scheming ways to get her out of my way. How Naive Immature Inconsiderate had I been! I run my trembling hand across her golden silken hair as time bids its final farewell with each ticking excruciating second.

She looks at me. There is no fear in her eyes. She is slowly stumbling into wicked Death's arms. She tries to get up. She wants to say something. But I already know. "I will miss you too", I say as I gently caress her. A tear drop escapes my eyes And then she lets go...justlikethat. No fuss. Her face frozen with that final attempt to speak the last word (as usual).

Silence. Long Silence. Fucking-somebody-make-some-noise Silence.

O Maria! Sweet Maria!! Your memory will waft in the air like oxygen. It will be the essence of my survival in this world. For in times good and bad (and other times too), you will be missed as such the cavity in my heart formed by your departure would be filled by no one. And I will look up in the sky each dark night and be touched by the stars knowing you are now one of them. I will feel the breeze blowing from my seventh floor curb and be assured it brings me love and kisses from you. I will get drenched in the rain which will be your forbearing. The 'Eternal Sunshine of My Spotless Mind' will now always be a tad mellow than usual.

And then...there is a sudden splutter. Involuntary movement of scary arms. *Cough-Couf Cough-Couf* To my astonishment Maria holds her resilience and springs back to life. With one huge gasp of life she breathes back. Its a miracle. She has throttled Death in its own game. I am too stunned to speak. She holds a wean smile and her eyes are luminous with renewed energy.

I hold her in my arms and weep. A thought escapes the back of my mind.

"Fuck, this is such a cruel twist to my happiness. I should have emptied the full bottle of rat-poison in her evening soup."

DAY TRIPPIN!!

 

Naked feet, I walk,

On Grass!!

Is it I? I, is it??

Or is it the Earth

SpiNning??

 

Music of the rhythmic

Humping of ants,

Roars into my left ear.

Right ear tunes...

To passing of the CLOUDS.

Trance??!!

 

Rain falls in little pellets,

Explode all around me.

I catch a drop,

Slice with a knife.

Colours sCream.

VIBGYOR??!!

 

Through the airy stairs,

I reach the the sky.

Part the clouds to swallow the Sun.

With darkness around I smile.

Light escapes throu' gaps.

No sound this time.

 

 i think and am there.

i blink and AM back.

So i wink-wink!!

The other me laughs.

i open my wings.

And fly far FAR away!!!

THE TURNING BRAIN

No matter how late you are, you will always tread with care on a wet slippery floor. And as I trod at the station with little baby steps I let out a silent prayer that I will get my train. And with wonders of wonders, I arrive at the platform to find out that it hasn't arrived as yet. Monsoon-magic!!! I am tempted to let out a whoop of joy. I ask a bystander, "What time does the 08:08 Kalyan arrive?" and he looks at me in slow-mo with sad droopy eyes. I can feel his grief.

Somehow my mood is uplifted. I know at the back of the mind that I am late, the train is late and eventually we both are going to be late but the perceptive thought that I have managed to get my daily train defuses all worries around. The Logic completely overrides Time; ticktock...tick-tock...theek-thak!!!

And Singh who is always on his toes to find faults in me refuses strangely to acknowledge the fact that I am late, again. Can this be considered a miracle? (Anybody who does know Singh would readily agree!!!)

But what have I done here?!! I scratch my ass and think!!

Perceptively I am not late because I did catch my 08:08 train...no matter if I did so at 08:20. I let myself think that way. That little strand of belief creates a tiny positivism which radiates around like light from a lamp. It creates pathways into the minds of other people, overthrows hurdles along the way and eventually speaks what you want to project.

You do not need to wait for a train to realise that a positive thought can be miraculous.

You do not need anything else to create a positive thought.

You do not need anything because you can create your own miracles.

This mind-altering illusion, I know will be shammed by many but do you realise what all you can do with it. The possibilities are endless limitless infinite. But you have to keep faith...in yourself. Believe!! And nothing will be impossible.

Think! Think!!

Each one is born with it though each may perceive it in a different way. But miracles do happen...in little ways, all the time. Feel it!! You may credit it to a stone statue, some girl, a lucky underwear...but in the end its YOU that creates the magic.

Work on and believe. Send a thought across the universe. It's all yours.

Fly, I

A pair of comfortable glares

A little bit of sunscreen.

Would help you surely, yes.

For I am out to soar

High beyond your farthest thoughts.

Watch me, you will!

 

WHAT IS AND WHAT IS NOT

Strands of memories shared

Adds sparkle to nostalgic-lane.

Like perfume it wafts in the air.

My bed is livid with tearstains.

 

I tell myself, 'I dont love you.'

And who am I to blame.

I cant fool you with this affectation.

Its so outright an excuse lame.

I am such a lowly fool.

Force me into your heart.

Let me stay, cross-chained.

And never do me apart.

 

Far like a shimmering star,

How I try best to let things be!

Some part of me contradicts.

I do miss you terribly.

SHAMANISTIC

Simi Shaman with his bolder of a drum

Dances to 'The Rage of the Satan' song.

The beads play to his tune

Traversing the axis mundi,

Making him expectantly vulnerable

To the sights of the surreal world.

Of one's involvement that takes

A lifetime. Worth the projected risk.

Simi Shaman prances the length

Of the room. Feet barely on the ground.

The spirits take on his call,

While he shunts them with open blinds.

And seeks pleasure, he the purveyor

Of life and beyond into the cosmos.

The dance rages, the feet moves,

The music will keep playing on...

BULLET-PROOF

Excitement filled Subedar Krishnan.

His unit had the old system undone.

Now with new golden bullet-proof vests,

They were well prepared in their quest.

To capture the dreaded dacoit Gill.

Who killed simply 'cause it gave him a thrill.

Many had died, shot in their hearts.

Such was Gill's great unerring art.

But the Subedar was now unstressed,

Proud with his new bullet-proof vest.

He will cast aside the past shameful scars

And throw Gill behind the smelly bars.

Wearing the vest, he went ahead.

The foxy Gill shot him in the head.

GRASSHOPPER COLOURING

Look look closely-eyed at my Machete,
How it glistens in the glaring sun.
The grasshopper green has turned red
And hopping around in anticipated fun.
The headless women come to me
And beg me for unforgivable forgiveness.
But their pity-patter rainy wailing
Makes me Machete-shove into their rectus.
Silence falls as my Machete speaks.
I work with artistically swish-swash poses.
I cut each one in my forbidden path.
Flesh, free-falling like tiny petals of roses.
Rage has filled me, My nostrils flare
As each despaired soul I send to her doom.
Blood splatters spray-paintlike on the grass.
Red on the grasshopper green dries to maroon.

QUOTE OF THE MONTH

"When you are young you are given a good view of life, because of your closeness to birth," - Sidney Nolan

NORMAL IS ME!! -Part I

I wore.
My left shoe on my right.
My right shoe on my left.
And strode around
With wide alternating steps.
People gaped.
No one asked me why?
I walked along,
Oblivious to the fact
Something could be wrong.
I reached home.
Sat on my chair.
I crossed my legs.
And lo!
Everything seemed fine.

EVENINGS at VIZAG

A first in part of a triology. Subtitled: Journey for peacedom. Location:RK beach, Vishakapatnam.

After being fleeced by Hyderabadi autowallahs and harassed by Vijaywada booking clerks I finally reach Vizag. I head to the beach and sit down; bespectacled, barefooted, cross-legged...its the Lotus Mudra posture. The bikini-clad foreigners come and snap photos around me assuming me, considering my handlebar moustache and beard, to be some baba, fakir, miracle man...of mystical India!! I try not to ogle at their breasts. I stare ahead at the far horizon aware that I am looking at the Bay of Bengal. I wonder if I could swim through I would reach...Mumbai. The world is round remember!!

And in this east coastal horizon where the sun never sets I came to find some peace. I feel the cool wind ruffling my hair. My nipples stiffen with the chill and due to those women around I find something else stifling too.

But I close my eyes and concentrate. I imagine a ring inside a ring inside a bigger ring. A series of concentric rings. And I pick up colours and paint them. Bright red orange purple. I feel peace at heart, my faith is restored. Those eccentric rings are the symbols of never ending joy, strengthing with each one to its core. I light up a fag and allow the waves to gently kiss my bottom.

I go to the beach side shack and order a large antiquity blue and extremely spicy tiger prawns. Heaven! Here I rejoice!!

And Maria blurts in, "Why don't you click some photo-shotos. Its such a beautiful place."

I flatly tell her to fuck off!

(unknown subject)

N.B.: The author refuses to publish any new posts for a few days because he is a little pissed off with his world right now.

Much more actually!!!

 

P.S.: He is pissed off most of the time!!!!

SATANIC VERSES

"You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If you love everyone and everything you lose your natural powers of selection and wind up being a pretty poor judge of character and quality. If anything is used too freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the other cheek to your enemy!" -- Anton LaVey, Church of Satan.

THE FIREFLY EFFECT

Lampyridae is a family in the beetle order Coleoptera, members of which are commonly called fireflies, lightning bugs or (ambiguously) "glow worms" due to their conspicuous nocturnal (or, more accurately, crepuscular) use of bioluminescence to attract mates or prey. Fireflies are capable of producing a "cold light" containing no ultraviolet or infrared rays, with a wavelength from 510 to 670 nanometers, pale reddish, yellowish or green in colour, with a lighting efficiency of up to 96%.(Source: WIKI)

And why, so must you be thinking, that I am writing about something as wayward as a Firefly!! It's because yesterday as I was savouring the surreal sights of the night sky hand-in-hand with my partner and professing my profound love to her, I swallowed one. Actually it flew right in and now my heart is aglow.

COME BACK TO ME

Turn me inside out

and without a doubt.

You will hear a tweet

of my heart beat.

It sings to your tune.

Come back to me soon.

VILLAGE LIFE

A four part memoirs of my week long official trip to Kudthini Village, Bellary.

1. 'COPTER IN THE SKY
Thorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Flies the helicopter away.
The toothless elders gape in wonder.
The men waste no time & point fingers.
"Helicopter! Helicopter!!"
Proud of something they know.
The naked children run about.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The village head calls out.
"Hide! Hide!!
If somebody pisses in there,
Will rain on your heads."
The children scatter away.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The pandit sounds the bell.
"This is a bad bad omen."
The children run on its trail.
Trying to scare it away.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The women look with dreams
In their eyes. Of a suitable
suitor who will whisk them away.
Thorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
The helicopter finally disappears
Into the forbidden horizon.
The men go back to
Chewing gutka & smoking beedies.
Women back to pumping their chulla.
Children back to play with their chippies.
The village head comes out
Scratching his balls.
Proud of an effort which has
Nothing to do with him.
He has got stories to tell.
Talk & banter. Music & play.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
Back to their chores.
The village folk.
But today is a special day.
A helicopter came in their lives.


2. THE VILLAGE BUS
A wooden shed 12 by 12
And open space around.
It's the village bus stop.
Hundreds of people
Hustle-bustle waiting
for the bus to arrive.
I am the only one
Wearing shoes.
Original Adidas, is it?
Men with unkempt hair, beard, moustaches.
Women as black as the new moon.
Children, too many
with nose goo dripping from their faces.
Sheltered at the bus stop
From the soarching sun.
I find some place to breathe.
Sleep Squat Shit Smoke Scream.
Everything's allowed in here.
As the bus comes, the people
Attack like scavengers.
Through windows, back doors, on the top!
They hang for their lives.
The bus too feels the brunt.
A tin box on four wheels.
Entering is an ardous task.
Mumbai local trains are easier to handle.
I push and shove, finally!!
The seats are empty, relief!!
But!!
Filled with handkercheifs, empty bottles, bags.
And what do I see here,
A child's underwear too.
The seats are already booked.
Talk about reservations!!
I find some space again to breathe.
There always is, space!!
More space, impossible space for everyone.
The bus rattles away and so do my bones.
I give Kamasutra poses,
To keep from stepping on someone's toes.
I pray for my life,
As more more people push in.

3. LAUGHTER CLUB
I am stared at.
"Sir, Big man, Sahab."
Its the Bisleri which attracts.
Big thing here, the fact:
I drink bottled water!!
----------------X-------------------
WIth pain stained teeth he chews.
And with his palms makes
Another ball of rice and throws in
His mouth with unerring accuracy.
"Dal??" I ask.
And he roars his head back & laughs.
WIth rice-balls in his mouth, it chokes.
But still more laughter.
"See", he says, "This is sambhar
And this is rasam here. Different things.
You mix, make ball, throw in mouth. Simple things.
You want Dal? Hahahahahaha!
You will get Doll, if you insist.
Brightly painted earthern doll.
If you have heart-break,
If your girlfriend run away,
You can break it to pieces.
Hahahahahahaahahaha!"
I have learnt my lesson.
I eat quietly whatever is offered.
------------------X---------------------
"Hahahahahaahahahaha"
They all point fingers & laugh.
"Don't know Kannada?
Illa?, illa??
Poor thing, Dunce fool.
By the way, watch your pants!!"
Its like, if I don't know the language,
Am not fit for anything in the world.
Their part of the world, that is.

4. LOVE'S THE REASON
I work for 14 hours a day
In this sweltering heat.
Travelling itself takes 4 hours.
And yet I am up each day,
WIth a smile, raring to go.
"But why?" People ask.
"Push yourself so much."
"Challenge??" Too cliched a reply.
"Money??" My friends know thats not what I live for.
"Then why? why??" people question.
"I want to see", I say,
"How much I can sustain.
Face torture and still be calm.
There was a time when
I was in love, or was I?
See, I am still confused!!
When frustration ate into
My brains like live maggots.
And I am still alive and
This is not one percent
of what I endured before.
So here I am with a song on my lips.
Love's the reason,
Which keeps me alive."

ROCKET SCIENCE

A couple making out: Come on. Can't you even undo the hook. It's not rocket science.
Doctors at the opt room: Come on. You just cut open with a scapel, remove the appendix out and just sew it back. Its not rocket science.
Stockbrokers: Come on. If it falls you buy and when it rises you sell. Simple! Its not rocket science.
Maintenance Engineers: Come on. If its not working, first check out if it has been plugged in to the power supply. Its not rocket science.
Sculptors in Byculla: Come on. Just imagine the object in your mind and chisel away the unwanted parts. Its not rocket science.
Scientists at Sriharikota: DUH!!!

THE COURTSHIP

Padma farts.
And then says sorry.
I hold my breath.
Padma speaks.
And spittle flys.
I dodge each bit.
Neo bows down to me.
Padma brags.
Master bugger that she is.
Open-eyed I put myself to sleep.
Padma cooks.
What even dogs won't eat.
I swallow each morsel
With a bottle of wine.
If only I would have known,
I would never have courted her.

TIRED MORNINGS

Sometimes I am the king of the world.
Sometimes I feel like a loser.
I know it is the Bipolarity nuisance.
How I wish to break free.

I fight battles in my mind,
With my mind, and the others
In my eccentric mind.
Mindless mind games all night.

This irrationality of life
Puts me off, I sleep
And run around finding an escape.
Mornings, as a result are tiring.