I am That

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

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

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...

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.