I Believed .
Those Beliefs are now swimming in front of my eyes.
Dripping in blood.
Their heads hacked off.
For a while I thought it was over.
And off I went, to cremate my dead belief.
There were others there too.
Like me and unlike me.
Friends and foes.
They are burning, faces in fire,
Melting, losing shape,
Consumed, but not purged,
It is strange.
The Beliefs were all colored.
But the ashes , an indifferent gray.
With the dying embers, I said a prayer,
"May its soul rest in peace",
But I had burnt the soul a long time before.
With this thought in my mind,
I made my way out,
Out of heaven's doors.
What I didn't notice, was the Ghost.
Following me, was the Ghost of my dear old friend !
Through my looking-glass
I feel,therefore I write
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Ghost of a dead belief
Monday, October 11, 2010
Green Slippers
We are surrounded by ‘things’; tangible and intangible,things which we attach value to,things we cherish and things which are just there,everpresent.There is a tarpaulin of sentiments which covers us .and these palpable ,corporeal ‘things’ become a part of it and we stay together under the tarpaulin.It is when we start associating with these objects that the abstract and the definite merge together.These objects maybe a piece of jewellery passed down from generation to generation or it may be one of the banal,day to day items of our life like a pair of slippers we don’t want to part with or a banyan tree which has been there for ages,under whose shade I played inane games,and my grandmother used to put her chair there in the evening and look at the passers by.If anyone were to cut that tree,it would have pained me because that tree had been my companion since my childhood.
An incident which happened to my mother triggered me to write this piece.I will digress no further and will begin with my story.
Alone ,like the slippers,and finally gone without leaving an imprint on anyone apart from her flesh and blood;like the slippers,whose loss won’t effect anyone but its owner.I think this is what Usha feared.These insecurities and fears came out in the form of tears.what she dreaded was maybe the loss of her identity.A thought which had never occurred to her before.Maybe because she didn’t have the time to think.
Her tears didn’t convey this message to me then.But now thy do.Maybe because now I understand,if not fully then partially, what being a woman is.I want to prove her insecurities wrong.I carry a piece of her with me and this piece I will pass on to my child.She is my fountainhead,my stimulus. Usha will never vanish.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Good vs Good!
You fool!
Can’t you?
Can’t you hear those screams?
The agonies of your kin!
You!
You!drowning in your own laughter,
Listen….
“but I deserve this happiness”
You again!
Listen,
To the slashings and clinkings,
The trickle of blood,
The rippings of flesh.
Can’t you?
You!
You,lost in you own world.
Dropping trash in bin
And paying your bills.
Wearing a smug smile on your face.
“I am a good citizen”,it says.
“but I have done my part”
Listen!
Are you deaf?
Why are you blocking them out?
Listen to the color red,
To the heartbeats of the dead,
Listen to the war noises,
Thud!Thud!
You carnal beast!
Covering them with a blanket,
Hiding them behind your escapades in bed.
“but I have my needs”
Listen carefully now!
To those faint,faint sounds,
The parched lips,
The hungry growls,
Listen to the engine of despair,
Hooting loudly in their minds.
Can’t you?
You!sitting among savoury dishes
With a pampered palate,
Listen…
“But listen to what?”
“you are right”
“But I ‘m not wrong”
“Its not always black or white,
Wrong or right.
Good or bad,
A hero or a villain.
Sometimes,its good versus good!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
My left, his Right.
The other,the end.
They met somewhere in between,
Somewhere,where the street bends.
Not a tinge of akwardness,
No opaque surfaces.
Just the pristine mirror,
Just the unmasked faces.
Love,passion and admiration guided them.
Angels and cherubs talked about their love.
They were amazed,
For they didn’t drink any potions,
Nor were they struck with any darts.
They loved,just with their hearts.
Sometimes they got lost.
But always found each other.
When they were bewildered,
They found comfort in each other’s answers.
They had been together since I don’t know when.
They were thieves and philosophers,estorics and pagans.
They were lovers.
And they were friends.
Talking and listening,
That’s what they did.
When words failed them,
They listened to heartbeats.
So much told,
So much more to tell.
This is a never-ending story,
Cos their journey won’t end.
The only difference is ,
My left is his right.
I live in the ‘upside down’ world.
But he is no Alice,
He can’t cross the line.
The line dividing the two worlds,
Between sanity and insanity,
The fixed and the moving,
The virtual and the real.
So I stand here,
And he on the other side
Happy,to see one in other’s reflection,
Happy,to have loved.
Sometimes I feel I live in an illusion,
then I go to the mirror,
And see him,smiling at me,
That clears all my trepidations.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Freedom is better
I believe that our desire to attain an equal status is grounded in our desire to be like others.But wouldn't that make us machines.And machines are insensitive.Would we want are society to be based on equality and insensitivity.Maybe the ones who are repressed become dominant and they start tyrannising.So whats the point in having a equal society.It becomes a utopia,and utopias can never be attained.Freedom would be a better option.Its a relative term.and most importantly the craving for freedom is devoid of any desire to be like others.Freedom is discovering yourself without any inhibitions.
Friday, May 7, 2010
The Wandless Magician
Somewhere in the cockles of our hearts,
Somewhere inside us,
we are waiting.
To see a miracle,
to sight some magic,
waiting for a saviour,
a Ram,a Jesus or a Prophet,
to drag us out of our miserable lives.
A hunchback walking straight
A blind able to see
A barren woman becomes the epitome of Isis.
Our belief in god strengthens when we witness a miracle.
Why does our faith needs a proof?
Does god needs to prove himself that he is "above all"?
He already has.
With every single breath I take,
with my heart thumping inside me,
with each sunset and each sunrise,
with each flower unfolding its colors,
with each wave in the sea,
with each thunder in the sky,
with each bird that flies.
I witness a miracle daily.
He is a Wandless Magician.
But we believe in special effects.
Ain't we?
Pieces
Brown?
White?
Yellow?
A Caucasian?
A Mongoloid?
African American?
Jewish?
Quarter of an Indian?
Turkish Muslim?
An Indian Muslim?
A Catholic white or
a Protestant black?
A Brahmin Hindu or
an untouchable Hindu?
My head is spinning.
I'm tired.
I'm all.
I'm none of it.
I'm a human being,
not the pieces you have created.