Utsav 2011

Saturday evening (15th Oct) was 'Utsav 2011' at my company.I got a chance to drum after a long gap...

The Poet...

photo: cochin 2007

I flow in the river; fly free in the breeze
I glow in the fire and in snow I do freeze
I dance with the peacocks and cleanse in the rain
I romance with the sunflowers; in sun I too shine
I roam with the clouds and rise with the mountains
I foam with the waves and spring with the fountains
I dip in sweet honey and bloom with red roses
I skip with every bunny and race with wild horses
I creep with the ivy and with the koel I sing
I sleep on the moon and with stars I do swing
I buzz with the bees and swim with the guppies
I kiss every butterfly and play with the puppies
I sway to the thrushes and drink the morning dew
I grey with the ashes yet love the rainbow hue
I flicker with the flame; in the candle I melt
I kick every frame and write what I felt
I fume inside like magma yet I am as cold as ice
I exhume every dogma to earn my grain of rice
I dream every minute and dine without a diet
I scream yet am quiet- That’s the life of a poet…

The Stranger...

@KL airport, 2007

Everyday I see a stranger
    He looks the same as I
He stares at me like danger
    when I try to meet his eye.
Even though I do meet him
    Morning, noon and night
But still the fellow stays grim
    An enigma lost in light.
I wish I knew him better,
    What he thinks and why?
Does he blog and twitter?
    Does he laugh and cry?
Whose world is real I ask?
    Whose life- His or mine?
Who lives behind the mask?
    Can we swap across the line?
Everyday I see this stranger
    who looks the same as I
I see him in every mirror
    But reflections can also lie…

The Policy...

It was the usual Bangalore morning signal jam. He turns off the engine and instinctively locks his side screen to be safe from the usual menace of the eunuchs. He knew it would take at least 5 minutes before the traffic can resume. The traffic cops are busy with their morning collections on the other side of the road. He opens his canister and starts drinking his morning dose of chocolate soyamilk.

He notices her approaching on the rear view mirror. She has an infant against her bosom. Surely it must be a stolen infant he thought. He remembered the story he had recently read in the papers.
It was his firm policy not to give alms to beggars. "Why don’t they earn their bread by hard work? The society breeds them with alms", he always sighed.
Two teens on the bike drop a coin as they gawk at her bosom. That irks him further.
Now she is knocking on his side screen. He looks ahead ignoring her. He could hear the wails of the infant above the voice of the wacky RJ on the FM radio. He is not sure which one bugs him the more. The signal turns green and the traffic upfront begins to move. The infant’s wail drowns the other noises around as it pierces his locked door.

This is not easy he feels.
His one hand takes the 5 rupee coin lying on the dash board while the other hand starts to roll the side screen down.

He turns. She is not there.
He quickly rolls back the side screen, relieved that he did not violate his policy.

Later at office, the infant is still wailing in his head.

200911

The Little Elephant...

Nithila did this picture last weekend for her school work...

Time...

photo: Jewish settlement, Cochin, 2007

Today is tomorrow’s yesterday
‘Fore you wink it’ll flow away
By the time you know The way
Your hair is either gone or grey.

The clock ticks as if to say-
Life is just a numbered play;
Remember it’s just a fleeting stay
When it shines - make the hay!

Man is nothing but miry clay
From where he came, he'll there decay;
Human life is just a genetic relay;
A rat race run to reach the ray.

All the wealth and power you may
have, but they will not delay
your knell; You can yell, beg or pray
When its time to pay- you’re Time’s prey.

Yesterday is just history they say
And tomorrow is a mystery at bay;
But think about this ‘fore you sway-
Today is tomorrow’s yesterday!

Poetry...

Penning Poetry is the smoothest thing
Like the flapping of a swan’s wing
In metered rhythm the verses sing-
The moment I break my inner ring!

All I need – an endless sky
Where I spread my thoughts and fly
As I soar on an emotional high
Words pour and shape my inner cry!

 
 
 
 
photo: Bangalore 2007

The Clown

With a conical hat and spotted gown,
He even can walk upside down;
The toast of every kid in town-
The cherry nosed circus clown;
We forget our bags in his folly fest,
Super human gags and jolly jest;
He’ll joke, juggle and play slap stick
And make us giggle with his loony trick
With every frolic he’ll make us laugh;
At ease he’ll do every circus task;
But inside he’ll remain a human dwarf-
Tears veiled by a smiley mask.

120911

The Skeletons in my Cupboard...

Digital Art by Ashok , 2005

The Skeletons in my cupboard,

   They howl my name aloud;

Condemned to their abode,

   They hide behind a shroud;

Hollow eyes of madness-

   Afraid to face the light;

Crouching in the darkness-

   Long shadows of the night.

Is there a way to chase them?

   Misdemeanor of every kind;

Light a candle and face them-

   Those demons of the mind;

Try and try but will they

   Leave without a fight?

All I need is but one ray

   That parts the wrong from Right.

03.09.11

The walk...

...in front of DLF Golf links,Gurgaon

   19.08.11