Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The Photograph

The hair has to set right,
The smile has to be flashy,
The eyes should have that sparkle,
For that Perfect photograph.

He poured over images,
Analysed the parameters,
What has to go in, what out,
For that Perfect Photograph.

He sought out the best shooter,
the best studio, and the best lens,
Everything had to be exclusive,
For that Perfect Photograph.

Why the fuss, why the pain,
Everyone asked him, what is the gain?
A Passport to a World of Opportunities, he said,
An Impression it is, That Perfect Photograph.

The appointment was fixed, the shot was shot,
Come Tomorrow and see, your Perfect Photograph.
He Left, He fell, He tumbled, He left forever,
The Following day, it read,

In Fond Memory,
The man with the perfect photograph.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Little Master

Poise Glows,
Greatness Speaks.
The Willow Caresses.

White or Red it be,
Greeting the leather With,
An Ever So Beautiful Stroke.

Twenty Years,
Spent In a Zillion Overs.
A nation's hopes on his Shoulders.

Him Driving Off and On,
We Win Or We Lose,
Victory Is already Ours.

He Stands along with a Few,
Who nurture our Hope,
Who Humble Us,
Who Unite Us.

What He Has Given,
We Know No One can ever,

As they say,
If the sport be a religion,
He Is God.

Greatness Speaks,
Poise Glows,
The Willow Caresses.

An Ode to the man,
20 years for India.
If Cricket was A game of One,
We are champions Over and Over.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Kiss Of Life

The Full Moon floats above,

A White Gravestone, witnessing countless lives and its ends,

It hides on its side where we cannot see,

Creatures that are immortal, like itself.

They are the vampires.

Like the moon exists,

by Drawing Light from the Sun,

These vampires sustain, by sucking blood,

Of people on the planet below.

The Sun sets, the Moon rises,

The vampires fly down and scout the skies,

For prey that amble on the ground.

Swooping down on the unsuspecting,

Satiating their thirst for life by ending it.

Sheeba, the vampire, was intrigued by,

This line between mortality & the immortal,

A life they have, but it always has an end,

Whereas those such as she, Exist forever,

Without an End, is it Life?

She sought to seek, to find an answer,

Are these temporary moments worthwhile.....

She followed a young boy, saw him take his first steps,

She saw him utter his first words and his first laugh.

His first love, his first heartbreak, she felt it.

His first success, his first fame, she enjoyed it.

She saw all the moments that made his life,

And also those that he wished did not.

He soon lost his vigour, his clarity.

Slowly he forgot more and more about him,

Who he was, What and Why he was here,

He came with a cry, but now he left, without a voice.

Sheeba watched, confounded with the irrationality of it all,

Where is the purpose, Where is the satisfaction,

She had to bring him back, she had to ask Him,

Have you seen enough? Is that all that there is??

She plunged her fangs into his corpse,

And closed her eyes, The Kiss of Life flowed in,

While he regained those moments,

She saw flashes of her own life striking by.

They both now faced each other,

She Eager to know, Him still dazed, He took a while to take in,

What had happened to him, And what it is going to hold forth.

Once he was quiescent, she asked,

Have You seen All? In that ephemeral span you called life?

He did not know what to tell. He did not know.

He asked her then,

Have you Seen all? In the eternity that you have existed?

She did not know, She had indeed seen All, but still, Is that all?

Where is the purpose? Where is the satisfaction,.





There is No such thing.

It all being relative,

It is In the End, if There Is,

What You Want It To Be.


Thursday, October 1, 2009

October 1st

Minuscule drops descend,
An ephemeral coat they portend.

Chilly winds besiege,
An unfelt yearning they release.

They wander along with me a while,
Why I ask..

To remind what you need,
they say,
For You are not complete.

for a beautiful day....

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Necklace

Sitting down on the mat for dinner,
Joints worn out, almost seeming like torture,
He waited as his wife, made things hotter.

Cataracted eyes dimming his sight,
Made seeing tough in the night,
Watched his empty plate, seeking respite.

As She served with a smile,
He felt abler to travel many a mile,
Any distance for you, its worthwhile.

He noticed she kept glancing away,
Ever so slight, To a poster hidden somewhere,
What he wondered, Later I shall uncover.

When she slept, he found what it was,
A gold necklace, simple and elegant, that,
any woman would want, a halo around their neck.

He went in search of the glitter,
It was too much weight for him to bear,
He skipped lunches everyday, to afford the fare.

Many empty stomachs later, he had gathered,
Enough, for now a single gram he treasured,
Enough, of which had left him weathered.


Sitting down on the mat for dinner,
Not minding the torture, just this one time,
He waited as his wife, made things hotter.

After, he calls her in front of the faded mirror,
Hung on a paint-less wall, he stands behind,
what is it she asks, puzzled by his unusual stance.

He takes out his precious 1 gram,
The only object that shone there with glam,
That soon was off-set by 2 sparkling eyes.

Hands trembled to hook the links,
It finally adorned, it was ensconced.

She looked only at the glitter, reflecting in hers own,
Not realizing the strain in his self-less dare.

A tear drop fell on her back, what is it she asked.
Only our leaky roof he said, I will set it right.

The halo round her necked stayed, along with her smile.
Any distance for you, I near the destination or not,
is worthwhile.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Salt & Pepper

Can Salt be Sweet?
Can Pepper be a Treat?
Can Salt & Pepper be a Feast?

It was a hungry night,
The taste just didn't seem right,
Salt & Pepper, was the invite.

One had one, and the other had the other,
We needed both, to consummate one another,
Salt & Pepper, brought us together.

Adding Salt to bring out the Life,
Adding Pepper to supply it Spice,
Salt & Pepper, gave us an High.

One Cannot always like the same,
You need a Contrast to Compete,
Salt & Pepper made it a Fair Game.

These Two ingredients with, We Tempered,
Our Two lives with, It skilfully Tampered,
Until the Recipe it rendered us, Simmered.

Yes, Salt is Sweet,
Yes, Pepper Can be a Treat.
Yes, Salt & Pepper are a Feast.

The pic above shows actual salt & pepper shakers! :D

Sunday, August 9, 2009

The Wait

Oh, i am so famished,
My life is so flushed,
The sun that is scorching,
Me, i am so drooping.

Hot breeze that blows,
Faints me more as it flows,
No blade of grass for a shade,
Am all alone, like a single spade..

I look up and pray,
To see if there is any prey.
I see a dark brown speck yonder,
More here and there, And i turn bolder..

Specks come close, Coalesce to become one whole,
Swallowing one into one another, All into each other.
Gathering strength in their numbers, Growing heavier,
Eclipsing out the Sun, Announcing their arrival.
And then they drop, One by One,
We all look up into the sky, Tiny little Eyes.
And they drop, Uninhibited, Unhinged, Without any bias,
One by One, they drop, for us Corpse and Crops.

As they drop, they bring life,
Forming more little eyes, on the mud they splash,
They breath out life from that very lifeless mud,
That smells so very much of life than anything more.

Now i feel not lone,
I am blown with all this loan.
My wait ends with this high,
as the Rain drops that Fall, makes us others, Fly.....

month of august being special, shall be spiced up with this theme, which is inarguably, a true RTLL- Reason to Love Life....

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Glamour Veiled

Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of them all,
Pray do say it is me, Why,
Only I know it's me.

Wild colorful streaks on my hair,
Ravishing Rivers for each emotion.

Body-Hugging clothes, give a glimpse
Of what I hold within,
A Second skin to live-in.

Glistening Gloss for my lips,
Dew drops sitting pretty on my face.

Mellow Mascara for the lashes,
A simple lash of theirs,
That can tame any man.

But wait, my attire is not complete,
And here I am,. and All that I am..

One last puff of a perfume..
And with this veil of mine,

Here i stare into you,
Oh Mirror Mirror on the wall
Who is the fairest of them all,

Me with those lavish lashes
and the fragrance as a signature,
The scent of a woman, Veiled...
Glamour Veiled..

Saturday, July 11, 2009


A Sea of White,
Flows across the moonlit night,

She stands there,
And Unfurls her eyes.

Lashes beckoning me,
Into those two Islands.

They Speak:
Stare into them always,
Or drown forever in,
The White Sea of my eyes...

Monday, June 29, 2009

Ping Pong

Ping pong ping pong,
the red ball to and fro the wall,
Back and forth his hand,
Ping pong ping pong.

Ding dong ding dong,
Answer the door, open it wide,
There stands she in eager. finger on bell,
Ding dong ding dong.

Ping pong & ding dong,
In this echo of confusion,
The balls misses the wall,
And slams on the girl at the door.

Shock runs through his face,
Bewilderement across her's.
Sigh, The first instance they met,
The ball bounces lower, lower and rests.

Ping and Pong, Ping and Pong,
It bounces again, not monotonous like before,
here and there it misses and flies away,
Livelier, not mindful how far or where it goes,

Now there's no wall in between,
Only two smiling eyes,
With a ball dancing in between.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Return Of Investment


Addition of a new member to the family,
A boy, a vehicle to carry forward the family-line,
An evidence of vitality,
an evidence of prayers answered.


All the clothes and all the toys,
All the care he must have, he gets.

The best school, the best tutors,
The safest transport, the weighty-foods,

Additional support, like crutches,
Aid to make him stand on his 2 feet,
that he had all along.


His first paycheck lands,
Probably a token of appreciation,
Provided he is overcome by joy.
---Phase1 of Recovery---

The boy wants a girl, for rest of his life,
or so is the plan, leads to A marriage,
Followed by a lumpsome down-payment,
---Phase2 of Recovery---

Boy+Girl= you know what, Hopefully,
Seemingly the Highest gain,
Satisfaction, But always a desire for more,
To live and watch the next genration of investments.
---Phase3 of Recovery---

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Balloon

Red Rubbery Balloon,
Fuelled with air, In and Out,
Bouncing, Jumping, Flying,
Without any bound..

Tethered to a string,
Pulled by a hand,
It follows and floats,
A Servile Living.

Bright and vigorous,
Retorts always, never retreats,
Bursting at its seams,
healthy as can be.

Time catches Up,
Air oozes out,
Or, just the seams hold no more,
It falls from grace, it deflates,

Slowly fades away,
With a Dying wish,
that someone again,
kisses and blows in life,
and brings it back
to its Springy Ways. . .

Saturday, March 28, 2009

The Candle Light

Candle light,
flickering Candle light,
Swaying in the breeze,
Lighting up our eyes.

Under a starry night,
In a greeny meadow,
with a River coursing by,
And a Candle in the centre.

Sitting cross-legged,
On the grass facing each,
the naughty River chattering by,
A lone bird chirping lonely.

Sitting cross-legged,
Me and She, holding hands,
The  candle between us,
Our centre of the world.

In the nippy starry night,
Soft carressing warmth,
from the flickering candle,
Two hearts warming up, to,
One Another.

The river chattering by,
Two smiles glowing,
Warms up the candle,
Wax it sweats more.

Sitting cross-legged facing each,
Fingers on the Other lips each,
Stealing kisses with such ease,
Poor Candle droops its flame, 
With shyful shame!

Starry sky fading away,
Dawn making its way,
A lone bird chirping lonely,
Flys away, seeking a duet.

The sun intrudes me and she,
the candle coughs its last breath,
It goes pufffffffff , with a smoke,
And So leaves our secret tryst,
Without any trace.

Based On A true story, Yet to Happen!! :D

Monday, March 23, 2009

Close Your Eyes

->   Close your eyes,  <-
And, What do you see?

<-  Nothing,  -> 
I'd rather want to Feel. 

->   To look Inside  <-
Is also to feel,
that might be hiding,

<-  Let is be so hidden,  ->
Better not to, 
Seek Nor See. 
Experience it, 

 ->   These are those,  <-
 Which are 
 Ought not to be sought,
 But are those which
 Can Only be,

In Conversation with a Friend.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

The First Fall

Today was the day,
time to go,
time to depart.
I woke up.

trying to gulp,
food and water,
the heart pounding,
round the neck. 

Walking towards it,
shivering, getting numb,
try to wander away,
but once along the flow,
there is no other way.

pearls of perspiration,
drooping along the face,
screams flying in the distance,
scare me spirits away.

Sitting in the chair,
fastening me tight,
now no escape,
now no fight.

It begins slow,
Go up and up,
my senses plummet,
down and down.

At the peak,
A brief moment of silence,
And the great free fall.

Time just flew by,
And so did I,

My first roller-coaster ride,
And yes,
I am still ALIVE! 

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Chubby Cheeks

Those were the days,
they said he was healthy,
when he was a baby,
said he was plump,
when he was a boy,

but now, they whispered,
oh how fat is he.

he cycled to work,
walked about for errands,
always the stairs, never the lift,
whatever he may lose,
his weight never lost him.

he looked at himself,
and at people around,
some were like him,
many were not,

he looked more, 
closing his eyes,
he cribbed and flipped,
pulled at his hair,
banged his head,
with all this movement
he fell from his bed.

fell flat on his stomach,
and probably bounced once,
and then, unexpectedly,
he burst out in laughs

now who could have 
enjoyed such a fall,
only me, only me.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

the teddy bear

The Girl had just joined school, and
the First day, was an occasion to Cry,
No assurance could console her, not so easily,
Finally, at the promise of a sure present,
She Relented, the father Heaved Relief.

Evening unfurled, she screeched to be rushed home,
Expectations of what would be waiting over-flowed,
There it lay on her bed wrapped in glittery paper,
Tearing it up, ears popping out first, limbs followed,
Then glowed at her those deep smiling eyes, A Teddy Bear.

It transformed into an imaginary playmate, As it could
Assume any role the girl wished it to be, it would don.
Someone to laugh with, Someone to cry to,
Someone to carry along, Someone to care for,
The teddy stayed close to the girls heart.
School ended, the Teddy's lavish lifestyle withered,
The girl now wished for something more, someone new.
Someone to take her out, to make her laugh,
Someone to talk with, someone to sing with, While
The Teddy gradually kept climbing up the shelves.

A few more years passed, the age for marriage,
The teddy was gathering dust, almost forgotten.
The day was chosen, Another occasion to cry,
In all the chaos, amidst the hundreds of voices,
Glimpses of memories whizzed by the father&daughter.

She left for another home, one for rest of her life,
She left her father an empty room, intangible space.
He searched for something tangible and up above found the teddy,
That night the Teddy descended, a new home for it.
On a corner table, those deep smiling eyes, near the father.

Memories whizzed by him again, Another Occasion to Cry.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Anniversary

Wait, wait, Let Me wait,
She surely must know,
Twenty days past new year's eve,
Was when we first shrtmsgsrvcd..

Why Hasn't he called, Why? Why?
Is it not a day to remember?
Or is it so trivial?
The day the first sparks flew..

The day dragged into night, 
And none made the first move,
As The beautiful day came to a close,
That could have been much more,
At 0 hours, arrived in tandem from each,


the end.....
to wait or to not to,

Monday, February 9, 2009


Haiku is a form of poetry, originating from Japan. It consists of 3 parts in a line, made of 5,7 and 5 phonetic sounds respectively. For the english version, writers generally make the 3 parts as 3 lines and the sounds as words. Also, in a traditional Haiku, the first 2 lines must be independent of each, and the last line will contain the answer or the subject which is described in the first two.
Here are my first few..


Caste, Religion, Language no Bar,
A Billion voices blending, Patriotism soaring high, 
And India wins the game. 

Wishing, the scars vanish away,
Convinced, none other could be so beautiful,
Mirror speaks, The Seer Listens.

Temptation, to shut the eyes, 
Guilt, if more I did not cram,
Exam on the following day.

And finally,

I tried in utter vain,
It vanished before I could savour it,
Anger On A Loved One.

X-(   ....    :-|     ..... :-)

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The Park Bench

The Sun had started to sink,
Reaching to heights where,
Without having to Raise his head,
The Eyes Of the Old Man Could see. 

So it was time, And he ventured out,
To the park, to his bench,
Walking a few steps, Pausing,
A few more steps, and Pausing some more.

He enters the Green Domain, and
Circles along the Cobbled path,
Once, And then slowly another.
Approaching finally to his Seat.

No One Sat there except Him,
As it was understood it was His,
The unsuspecting newcomers would be,
Shooed away by the regulars, Politely.

And When the temple bells sounded nearby,
He Would feed the little birds that arrived.
He Conversed with them, and the flowers around,
As none other would listen, nor could hear.

From this perch of his, he viewed
People, from his point of view :-
-- Kids screeching, that pierced his ears,
-- He Recollected If he too had been so noisy.
~~ Young couples embracing and staring into each,
~~ He Searched Within, to Remember, to Feel, how it felt.
++ And Looking at those just like as he, He wondered
++ Whom He Wished to be and, Who all Wished to be him.

His Time Came eventually, He left,
Never Again did the park see the old man,
Though He Soon Became a Fleeting Memory,
There Was Always his Empty Park bench,

And When The Temple Bells Tolled nearby,
There arrived always His little birds,
And His Flowers drooped solemnly in the breeze,
Missing The Talks Of their Old Man.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Ride to School

A Gleaming Black Bicycle,
And its Beaming Boy Wearing White,
Made A Common Cheerful Sight.

He kept his bike spick and span,
Just Like his hair, trim and prim,
Though it waved unruly, in the wind.

On the tree-sheltered path to school,
The Sun knifing through the gaps,
He rode his bike, dreaming, meandering.

Then from one day she appeared,
A Charming Cherry of a Girl,
Dressed in Black, With a White Bike.

Riding under the trees, in opposite paths,
They crossed each other each morning,
Black Against White, White Against Black.

She Always wore a Twinkling Smile,
He Always Chose to Avoid its Glowing Glare,
Lest it blind him, and bring his heels over his head!

But He did always hope to Catch,
A glimpse Of Her each day, And
Wished that there were no Saturdays nor Sundays!

Then The inevitable Tragedy Struck,
No more Did He see her ride through,
No more black against white, white against black.

He Would Start out early, Only To
Slowly Snaily pedal under the trees,
No more Dreams, Just Seeking And Searching.

And One Bright Windy day, He heard A bell
Ringing, not from front, But from behind,
He caught What it Was from the corner of his eye.

Heart thumping Faster, now He could only smile,
She was no more in black on a white bike,
She Had Changed now into his very own White.

And So Each Day, Each morning they now rode Along,
Together, bells ringing, and Crackling Laughter Glee,
Like A white Cloud, Riding On bikes, Black and White.

based on a true story that didn't happen :D

Saturday, January 17, 2009

In The Eyes Of An #@@#$%^&$%

He Wakes up at the sound of the alarm,
Observes the angle between the hands,
Nods confirmation of their position,And
Assures himself with the light of dawn.

Glances at the newspaper, scouting for photos-
That appeal, switches on the TV if there are,
Else dismisses it as an uneventful yesterday.

Arrives at the bus-stop, searches for a friendly face,
As any appears, he enquires whether it goes to where he wants.
Whilst Travelling, he observes the figures and designs,
Recognizing Recurring patterns, Speculating what they could mean.

Dialling a number, a test of matching similar symbols,
Not so facile if it was hand-written,
But nonetheless possible, albeit after a few approximations.

Paying bills, a test of matching colours,
Light brown notes give a pack of chips,
Light pink ones give double those.
Familiar purple-brown ones, equivalent to a litre of petrol,
The light bright bluish paper sufficing for most of his petty needs,
Those Dark Green ones for a lavish meal for 2,
And the Seldom Bright Sparkling Pink note, a Small Fortune!

And So He Walks and Gazes,
Lost in this maze of shapes,
Unaware of the truths they share,
Unaware of the power they bear,
He wanders where we pause, but also,
Ponders alone at those, for which we do not care.

In The Eyes Of An #.@@.#$.%.^&.$.%
In The Eyes Of An I.L.L.I.T.E.R.A.T.E

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Devotee

This is an event of a particular devotee,
Of none other than the 'Greatest',
'Richest' Lord, Venkatesha,
The Lord of the Seven Hills, etc, etc,
The owner of a countless other names.

Walking the arduous path, over the hills,
he used to chant incessantly,
govinda govinda govinda.......
watching people of all ages, shapes and sizes,
envying the kids, pitying the aged,
he used to step higher and higher.

Once he reached the top, every time,
he diligently went for the ritual,
to shave his head, dip in the sacred pond,
and then emerge with the conviction,
that all his sins have been cleansed.

Then began the stint at the long queues,
A sea of humanity, a hundred different tongues,
Walking on sticky floors, made so by,
The millions of sweaty trodding feet,
Being packed tightly, but cushioned comfortably,
By the Common Indian Abdominal and gluteal Fat.

Nearing the sanctum, with its golden roof,
Coins pasted all over, on the walls,
In the crevasses too, No one knowing why,
Finally standing beside the dwarapalakas,
Who guard the Lord who guards us all.

Entering the Womb, and glimpsing Him,
with the trademark vertical White patch,
covering most of the face,
the devotee thought, what to do?
Should I Chant more? or Should I only see?
Shouldn't I ask for something,
Sigh, I shall just chant and View.

Once Outside, Nothing, no sensation of Divinity as usual,
Just a feeling of emptiness, which eclipses our thought,
When we feel all the hard work, has gone in vain.
'NO! NO! This is blasphemy! This shouldn't linger!'
The poor devotee quickly reverted to his chants.

And then a final Queue.
He received it in both his Hands,
Closing his eyes, another ritual, another chant,
He ate the Ladoo, its sweetness melting,
Relishing it, bit by bit, almost in a meditative state,
He realized, ambiguously, not knowing whether to be happy or sad,
'This seems to be the only tryst of mine with anything divine'.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

The 2 Dancers

Sona had a passion,
to dance, was all that she craved,
was all that she needed.
Nothing else could entice more,
Nothing would rapture her more.

Waking with dreary eyes,
Squinting and focusing at the clock,
Attempting to rise bit by bit,
Succeeding Finally, and donning the attire,
She would set off, cursing the long walk,
to where she went to dance.

But she very well knew that once there,
It was wholly an another world.
Paradise right here on earth u may call,
Where emotions transformed into motions,
Where rhythm reverberated in each step.

Haughty that she was, and for reasonable reason,
for none could match the madness,
Only she possessed the streaks of wildness,
She believed, the ability to stop time,
To live in trance, and dwell in dance.

But there was one more person,
Who could dance along with her,
Whose long wisps flew loose just as hers.
As She thought, I am still better than her,
The other person too thought the same.