I am that
Tumultuous tumultuous
The temple of faith
In search of its gods
Surreptitious surreptitious
The center of life
In search of its odds
Sumptuous sumptuous
The supper of greed
In search of its nods
Incestuous incestuous
The desire of difference
Polka polka dots
1.10.10
Nativity
Nativity
One, two,
A foamy dew
Three, four,
A priestly whore
Five, six
Dragons bleat
Seven, Eight
There’s no gate
Nine, Ten
Three wise men
One, two,
A foamy dew
Three, four,
A priestly whore
Five, six
Dragons bleat
Seven, Eight
There’s no gate
Nine, Ten
Three wise men
Of Unhappiness ~ Well actually no!...its something else I think-sept 13 2010
[Ok I thought I'll write this down for perspective. All right allright even I can be touchy sumtimes...u knw]
"But all joy wants eternity—Wants deep, wants deep eternity"
Loneliness is not about being alone. It's about that moment when you want someone by your side but you got none. So essentially its not a feeling of being deserted, its the feeling of not being at peace with just yourself. And Bam! there goes the whole argument for individuality. But, that's only half-true. It's about wanting, sometimes needing, not having
But never about being.
Hence, a desire, a dream.
From within, Not without.
That abrupt silence, when you want something said, something heard.
Want
Want
Want
You see that's the key word. Do we need what we want, or do we want what we need.
Or perhaps its the need to want...
"But all joy wants eternity—Wants deep, wants deep eternity"
Loneliness is not about being alone. It's about that moment when you want someone by your side but you got none. So essentially its not a feeling of being deserted, its the feeling of not being at peace with just yourself. And Bam! there goes the whole argument for individuality. But, that's only half-true. It's about wanting, sometimes needing, not having
But never about being.
Hence, a desire, a dream.
From within, Not without.
That abrupt silence, when you want something said, something heard.
Want
Want
Want
You see that's the key word. Do we need what we want, or do we want what we need.
Or perhaps its the need to want...
Kharrar Kharrar sept 27 2010
Kharrar kharrar
do pahiyon ki cheekh
mujhe gusse se latadte hue
basketwali ladybird pink
Door khade, mitti ka tel haath mein
dus saal purane lock
mein kahin chuppi hui mai
Kharrar kharrar
aawaz waise hi jab gusse mein
tumne cycle mujhe thama,
bus le li thi,
Main aaj bhi
ghar ja rahi hoon
usse ghasitte hue
Aaj koi maamooli din nahi
Mai ghanti baja, pedal maar, gir padi
gusse mein cheekhi,
Aur mujhse aayi aawaz
Kharrar kharrar
do pahiyon ki cheekh
mujhe gusse se latadte hue
basketwali ladybird pink
Door khade, mitti ka tel haath mein
dus saal purane lock
mein kahin chuppi hui mai
Kharrar kharrar
aawaz waise hi jab gusse mein
tumne cycle mujhe thama,
bus le li thi,
Main aaj bhi
ghar ja rahi hoon
usse ghasitte hue
Aaj koi maamooli din nahi
Mai ghanti baja, pedal maar, gir padi
gusse mein cheekhi,
Aur mujhse aayi aawaz
Kharrar kharrar
An Idea about Art June 3 2010
I think that the basic design of human endeavour beyond survival is Art, art of tackling boredom. Sometimes we get so involved in it that we forget we can always invent something new if one thing doesn't work. Other than that if boredom finds it way back again, one can just let it settle like Dust. Boredom for the sake of boredom, art for the sake of art, but it all for the sake of meaning. And so we finally would have nothing. Unless dust counts, although flowers do seem to.
And to look beyond this limited argument, there is also the art of survival which precedes the art of tackling boredom. Sometimes we confuse the two. And I wonder whether I am doing that right now.
And to look beyond this limited argument, there is also the art of survival which precedes the art of tackling boredom. Sometimes we confuse the two. And I wonder whether I am doing that right now.
At least I am happy achieving irony eve of 27th sept 2009
Just about 46 Minutes to go. It's as if I am falling at such a speed that I don't even realize it. The ground almost seems welcoming. No, its not a sad realization of being a year older, it is more about the realization of inevitability. Being a person who can't get used to things, even with a lotta difficulty, I seem to shrink instead of grow each year. The confusion rises with each new realization and the reason attains a more existential pathos. As the hands of the clock rush to meet each other in a loving hug, I sit and imagine what difference will it make. Pessimism. Cynicism. No, its not just that. i am just peeling the onion only to realize that it doesn't have a center. It's made of layers. So as I uncover each layer and accord to one more year of living, my quantitative analysis fails as I realize that there's nothing inside but a tabula rasa [blank sheet of paper].
But, then I need to write to pass this tick-tocking of the clock inside. Before the phone starts to ring and I answer it with a genuine smile, I need to know and understand this ritual of growing old. I need to fill another blank sheet to feel that I have achieved something. I need to know I still can make an impact. Even if it is on a binary code where everything is made of 1 and 0.
22 years gone. 22 minutes left. Signing off.
But, then I need to write to pass this tick-tocking of the clock inside. Before the phone starts to ring and I answer it with a genuine smile, I need to know and understand this ritual of growing old. I need to fill another blank sheet to feel that I have achieved something. I need to know I still can make an impact. Even if it is on a binary code where everything is made of 1 and 0.
22 years gone. 22 minutes left. Signing off.
Rituals 26 Sept 2009
A group gathers to sing a birthday song
Another fights over a weighing machine
Houses are put on fire, buses are stopped
as a cartoonist is convicted through humour laws
A chemist happily sells a carton of pills
A child is born somewhere and billed
A few keys pushed, an artificial click
we have a poet chanting Tick tock tick.
Another fights over a weighing machine
Houses are put on fire, buses are stopped
as a cartoonist is convicted through humour laws
A chemist happily sells a carton of pills
A child is born somewhere and billed
A few keys pushed, an artificial click
we have a poet chanting Tick tock tick.
Randomizing Blip Nov 10 2009
Found a new God
shunned the Priest
slaved by freedom
tied by proximity
deafening bangles
exploding ink
electric stagnancy
microscopic blink
syllabic communication
wet matchsticks
dried fertility
oxymoronic hints
catastrophic mercy
evolutionary quip
plastic insurgency
domestic brief
shunned the Priest
slaved by freedom
tied by proximity
deafening bangles
exploding ink
electric stagnancy
microscopic blink
syllabic communication
wet matchsticks
dried fertility
oxymoronic hints
catastrophic mercy
evolutionary quip
plastic insurgency
domestic brief
Noting down Nov 20 2009
When relationships make no sense, when you are there and you are not there, when the line of balance is so thin you just want it to tip as you can't handle the anxiety; there is thread of hope that binds it all into a fantasy. This thread tangles more than it sets into order. While one happily sees each day pass by, on a day to day basis, the wage being a hope to wake up the next day and look forward to something; meaning is completely relative and loses its meaning altogether. Compartmentalisation becomes the only way to sustenance. What if suddenly we find that the code words we had used to catalog our mind and memory have been tampered with. When everything becomes irrelevant, what is there to look forward to. and if nothing then what we are left with is a huge mass of time in our hands, that is dead weight. No possibility of wormholes then only infested rots that ooze of stagnancy. And to say anything to someone, half knowing you won't mean it the moment you utter it and still saying it is like writing this very note here.
It is what it is Dec 8 2009
It is really over when you realize that this spiraling down staircase aint ever gonna end. And then you shout into it and say Goodbye waiting for its echo to reach you back, which never does. How much difference does it make to actually climb it down only to return back. Do I have the courage to actually head down into the abyss?
And you see ghosts gathering
preparing for a feast
they can't cherish.
Still, just for the sake of it.
It is then you know
You are too deep into darkness.
And it doesn't end
it never ends
It is what it is
Was, Is, will be.
And you see ghosts gathering
preparing for a feast
they can't cherish.
Still, just for the sake of it.
It is then you know
You are too deep into darkness.
And it doesn't end
it never ends
It is what it is
Was, Is, will be.
wtf Dec 17 2010
What do you do when you don't know what to think, what to say, what to write; and to make sense of anything you want to think you need someone else's side to it [which btw is inaccessible to you]. In this screwed up mess you get so deep down into the shithole of your Ego that eventually nothing makes sense. And the entity which is you gets into the act of playing a ball game inside your head. And the other voices get excited and go haywire. After a million phone calls and umpteen messages, and a series of conclusions that change in intensity and polarity, you just center on one point and that is buy your terms with waiting [which you know you can't because a lotta things are passing you by]. So you just pass out. Amidst these opposing voices there also lies a voice that wants to say 'SHUT UP'. But, no body hears it. It is then you know this is how it starts..After a while you wake up with a terrible headache and a hangover which ,you know, never had a positive side to it.
Releasing the Shutter Dec 29 2010
Going away
With every click
A life freezes
Two deaths by my hand
Through the lens
With one eye closed
An unfathomable frame forms
For a second
Waiting for a digital proof of existence
Death quickly turns to life
And as a smile reaches the eye
Captured freedom takes a flight
Only
To come home
With every click
A life freezes
Two deaths by my hand
Through the lens
With one eye closed
An unfathomable frame forms
For a second
Waiting for a digital proof of existence
Death quickly turns to life
And as a smile reaches the eye
Captured freedom takes a flight
Only
To come home
Afterglow Jan 24 2010
The Circles of confusion
get bigger
and all images slip away
as the wave sweeps
through the perforations
of my dissected mind.
Washed out,
I stand still
with the sand running beneath my feet.
As the blood in my veins
gets in sync
with the air of defiance,
I gather
the remains of the day
and return emptyhanded.
get bigger
and all images slip away
as the wave sweeps
through the perforations
of my dissected mind.
Washed out,
I stand still
with the sand running beneath my feet.
As the blood in my veins
gets in sync
with the air of defiance,
I gather
the remains of the day
and return emptyhanded.
My Political Action of the Day Jan 25 2010
A question mark,
made of smoke,
in the swish of my freshly shampooed hair,
settles on my raised brow.
An anchor drops,
in a Walcottian fashion,
from the tip of my eyelid
on my Vctorian doormat.
Dissatisfaction instigates
a pregnant pause
as I stare at my perfect finger tips
and bend down to pick up yesterday's newspaper, soaked in dew.
made of smoke,
in the swish of my freshly shampooed hair,
settles on my raised brow.
An anchor drops,
in a Walcottian fashion,
from the tip of my eyelid
on my Vctorian doormat.
Dissatisfaction instigates
a pregnant pause
as I stare at my perfect finger tips
and bend down to pick up yesterday's newspaper, soaked in dew.
Somehow Feb 1 2010
I sit and read poetry, listen to songs, watch movies, all to not think,
Somehow, I end up thinking a lot more, and its all about you.
My feet feel confident that I can do it all alone.
Somehow, my hand misses a hand, and it belongs to you.
I wait for the day to start anew and wait for it to never end,
Somehow, to not wait for an other day, coz I know it wud be without you
I find shoulders to rest upon, hands to hold, voices to chat with,
Somehow, I know its just like your perfume [which is nothing like you].
I feel happy I can wear a smile while sleeping,
Somehow, I wish someone saw it, and I wish it was you.
I know there's nothing to say,[ Having said it all]; nothing to do, [having done it all],
Somehow, I know its not enough, and I wish I knew what to say and whom to say it too.
[Then,
perhaps
I would know
and
it would be
You
Somehow.]
Somehow, I end up thinking a lot more, and its all about you.
My feet feel confident that I can do it all alone.
Somehow, my hand misses a hand, and it belongs to you.
I wait for the day to start anew and wait for it to never end,
Somehow, to not wait for an other day, coz I know it wud be without you
I find shoulders to rest upon, hands to hold, voices to chat with,
Somehow, I know its just like your perfume [which is nothing like you].
I feel happy I can wear a smile while sleeping,
Somehow, I wish someone saw it, and I wish it was you.
I know there's nothing to say,[ Having said it all]; nothing to do, [having done it all],
Somehow, I know its not enough, and I wish I knew what to say and whom to say it too.
[Then,
perhaps
I would know
and
it would be
You
Somehow.]
Not Made From Words Feb 11 2010
Words don't make meaning
[differ]
It is same from one hemisphere to another
And does not mistake colour for light
An Atom Bomb can be mistaken for White noise
But Meaning remains the same
And falls onto us
Ruining everything
What remains is meaning itself
But, there lies a possibility
in its non existence
Its like giving birth
Knowing the forceps are in the hands of Death
...
Words flow like emotions
But sense is crude
and lacks sensibility
...
My eye looks out of my camera
right at the sun
only to get dazzled
But the click results into something
And my memory registers
An image
of the Empire of the Sun
...
A borrowed phrase
And a collage of words
in sync
produce meaning
ready for consumption
But, I am not a Poet
[Hence, Therefore, Herewith]
This is where I end my poem
[differ]
It is same from one hemisphere to another
And does not mistake colour for light
An Atom Bomb can be mistaken for White noise
But Meaning remains the same
And falls onto us
Ruining everything
What remains is meaning itself
But, there lies a possibility
in its non existence
Its like giving birth
Knowing the forceps are in the hands of Death
...
Words flow like emotions
But sense is crude
and lacks sensibility
...
My eye looks out of my camera
right at the sun
only to get dazzled
But the click results into something
And my memory registers
An image
of the Empire of the Sun
...
A borrowed phrase
And a collage of words
in sync
produce meaning
ready for consumption
But, I am not a Poet
[Hence, Therefore, Herewith]
This is where I end my poem
I need a new word Mar 25 2010
An elastic
it isn't
that would snap back
to retain its shape
Not a salamander's tail
that would grow back
once cut off
but, lets not revel in examples
the point is
you can't cut a shadow with a knife
Ah! Damn! Why can't it be simple
like the two headed engine
or the Second Coming
Oh! Did I use any metaphor
In plain English you wanna know
You don't need many expletives to make a new language
one is enough
[And this ain't a mathematical equation
that can prove itself by an equal to sign]
it isn't
that would snap back
to retain its shape
Not a salamander's tail
that would grow back
once cut off
but, lets not revel in examples
the point is
you can't cut a shadow with a knife
Ah! Damn! Why can't it be simple
like the two headed engine
or the Second Coming
Oh! Did I use any metaphor
In plain English you wanna know
You don't need many expletives to make a new language
one is enough
[And this ain't a mathematical equation
that can prove itself by an equal to sign]
For Once Mar 25 2010
Do you know what it takes
to eat my own words
and chew on them
to suck the bitterness out
and present the shit
in a platter with a beautiful smile
what would you know
you don't speak with your mouth
and your words are not yours
I never question why Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
but i think he fell because he wanted to see how he looked sitting on it
but dont take it as a warning
in fact dont take it at all
just like it doesn't matter if Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
to eat my own words
and chew on them
to suck the bitterness out
and present the shit
in a platter with a beautiful smile
what would you know
you don't speak with your mouth
and your words are not yours
I never question why Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
but i think he fell because he wanted to see how he looked sitting on it
but dont take it as a warning
in fact dont take it at all
just like it doesn't matter if Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
Still There....Mar 26 2010
I flip my chappal up in the air
with the tip of my toe
and wonder at the uselessness of the moment
a little nostalgia
and the fundamental question
catch up with each other
incoherence
and of course something i don't understand
bundle up together to form a pillow
i dream of an adrenaline rush
at the cost of speeding at full might
and my sleep ceases to be sleep
i wake up to find a few ideas
sitting on my heavy eyelids
making it painful to see the details
Then? huh then nothing
i just look outside
wear my glasses
and ponder at the clumsiness of each slice i cut
Humming a tune I can't recall from where
And its only then it occurs to me
that the book i was reading last night shut by itself
and i was still in it.
with the tip of my toe
and wonder at the uselessness of the moment
a little nostalgia
and the fundamental question
catch up with each other
incoherence
and of course something i don't understand
bundle up together to form a pillow
i dream of an adrenaline rush
at the cost of speeding at full might
and my sleep ceases to be sleep
i wake up to find a few ideas
sitting on my heavy eyelids
making it painful to see the details
Then? huh then nothing
i just look outside
wear my glasses
and ponder at the clumsiness of each slice i cut
Humming a tune I can't recall from where
And its only then it occurs to me
that the book i was reading last night shut by itself
and i was still in it.
Among other things May 20 2010
Among other things
You think it was then
that everything fell together, and you found your lost self
You think it was that touch,
the wordlessness that made it all seem right
Or it just might be in words,
a single line that made sense, and gave meaning to it all
probably some 'thing' else
among other things
you know it best
but, you know it's not about what you saw
or what you did
or what you felt
or what you made someone feel
not even here
in this curiosity
to know
for what its worth
to live
to not die
to know what it all is
it doesn't matter if someone died
or someone lived
or whether you raised the *'overwhelming question'
snowballing towards it
because
there is only one thing
the tight rope
without gravity
beneath it
where hungry stomachs
converge
with hungry minds
and all that hunger hangs like a question mark
round your neck
and you just freefall
clutching onto
the thread
that connects it all
knowing
that is not it
*That is not it, at all.
[** Alludes to The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S.Eliot]
You think it was then
that everything fell together, and you found your lost self
You think it was that touch,
the wordlessness that made it all seem right
Or it just might be in words,
a single line that made sense, and gave meaning to it all
probably some 'thing' else
among other things
you know it best
but, you know it's not about what you saw
or what you did
or what you felt
or what you made someone feel
not even here
in this curiosity
to know
for what its worth
to live
to not die
to know what it all is
it doesn't matter if someone died
or someone lived
or whether you raised the *'overwhelming question'
snowballing towards it
because
there is only one thing
the tight rope
without gravity
beneath it
where hungry stomachs
converge
with hungry minds
and all that hunger hangs like a question mark
round your neck
and you just freefall
clutching onto
the thread
that connects it all
knowing
that is not it
*That is not it, at all.
[** Alludes to The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S.Eliot]
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