eternal entremets

stealing a glance through the battling eye lids,
seeing what i want in this sleepy mist
closing the eyes..shutting the ears..to what i fear
meandering through the drunk streets..its my breath i hear

looking back at the past hour..sifting dreams from nightmares
may be i slept too long….the wide awake world won’t care
it too is blind..its sight too selective..
but since when do they bother me… independence..my right to live

searching meaning between stringed chunks of characters..
breaking rhythm..vacuuming my character..
taking art..light years away from the con artist..
with incoherence..today is the tryst

asking self..what is it that i/you need..
there is a part in me to me that wont heed..
can’t sever that..for all of that may be me
is it ego..there are lots of I that i see.

saw you at my door step, didn’t know why you came,
wanted to call you in, didn’t know your name.
bewildered and pensive..i crossed the threshold
speechless was i, for my hands were too cold.

saw it in your eyes, read; they wanted to speak
may be even hear but i was too meek..
i blinked and turned away, to reveal i was not bold
wished you didn’t wait, for my hands were too cold

distance lent strength..and the night lent a dream
but it was still night, i wasn’t the silver beam
an ephemeral respite but eternal you were told
vanished in the sunlight, for hands must remain cold

follow me not nor seek..i am nobodies’ and nobody
i got no soul nor guilt..my company is foolhardy
seek no warmth in me..stretch no arms to hold..
would turn away when you need…my hands remain too cold

this weekend..had i put my money on my heart, would have lost on all three counts and would have had to be a sport..

tennis..wanted federer to win..but then never before did i watch him play like a human..the composure,the flawlessness, the super human class was all missing at the central court which was surprizingly supporting a nadal..rain tried helping but all nadal had to do was keep his serves and break four of opponent’s..he did that..he won..but federer you still rock..

f-1..never knew whom to support, find that its the unfairest of sports..a ferrari win would have made me glad..but no worries..

cricket..why are these mofos such chokers..i am so glad sachin isn’t playing..guess would stop following the sport with his retirement..except perhaps for t20s..the close to se7en hour ordeal is sheer wastage of time..i have few things to gain by not following cricket..may be i could become a true sports fan rather than an indian watching sport.. judge/cheer//jeer one on the basis of sheer merit..

the world is to gain by such decoupling..when we look at life with naked eyes..rather imagine it from behind the lenses of nationality,religion and many such unequal factors..

the problem with long weekends is, they are perennially short..they race to the working day…the juggernaut called time fueled by the bottles of booze..its road cleared by the noise of undecipherable music just did that..

get ready monday…i’m coming..

ps- my spe(i)llings have improved..
ps2- the scores of people on gtalk oceans away..some kissing nadal, some waking up, some idle..but all of them already at work are a consolation..

versatile, a word i learned too late from the dictionary..
but have always known an example, a living machinery

she woke up before me and ensured my good night
fueled my living cells, made my day bright.

would be waiting at the bus stop, be it rain or the sun
from the weary day at school when i made my return
pricked my boyish ego, i would argue i could take care
she had her own reasons, and my arguments won’t scare.

i would forget it all at the sight of beans curry and rasam
would postpone the curd rice to a 3 pm that would never come

kitchen,sweater, canvas and the assignment on chart paper
to my neighbor’s SUPW too, her skills would cater.

would string her needle on request and my help stopped there
she made the rest look so simple an affair

new class..and new books, the crisp paper’s smell
the homemade white glue..she would even bind the books so well

winter noons, the terrace and me, her chips’ guard
that dried with me in the sun,my sister and crows were barred

years flew by..and i reached the roads where i had to decide
she guided me to engineering, ensuring my safe ride.

untied from her apron strings.. here when i take my flight..
i know she is smiling..i am always in her sight..

she taught my 5’s table..and then to decipher the clock
she has been the peace..at bad times when i ran amok.

today i look at the calendar and am so glad its 11th may
happy b’day amma, no wonder its mother’s day.

could help the broke..apologies to the broke up..
could feed the hungry..sympathies to the hunger less
just realized this where it all sums up..
to savor what you have..you ought to be blessed..

some the beneficiaries of love that is blind..
some to whom its sightless, so unkind
for some a bond ..that takes them along
some chained..since freedom..seems so long

the problem of plenty..and the constructed necessities
the scarcity..and their alarming density
the thoughts that now follow the words that i choose
the one stream of zilch..life chose to fuse..

life ..a streaming rivulet..regrets the pebbles en route..
to stop..and try mending them..unfair…even brute
but why like a whirlpool..it keeps pulling me back..
your endurance hurts.. pulls me on a rack..

death..
i live..but there rots air inside..
rancid thoughts,sin,putrid pride..
lust, a deviant..self ,a virgin whore..
with life, am yet to settle score..

a worthless
i tell death,.get lost..not today..
death..which is a blow to the eternal pride..
there are still games with life i must play
still mockeries upon which i must deride

come back..
who are you imploring my return
an absence..that i must believe in turn
a non entity..that dares question me
there is sufferance i haven’t shown/seen

she comes unannounced..when the least I expect
overpowers the unprepared..like the gushing rivulet
seeps into in like motion..a dampening undercurrent
tosses, sweeps, imbalances..i’m a stringed puppet

i speak not and i know not what silences me through
weakness or am i an awe stricken marionette with no clue
what moves him, what stops him..what he tells the crowd
what exposes him, what he is exposed to..what should he shroud

she brings out..the best from within,
a performance to which i am not akin.
a deafening applaud when she calls it quit.
i was hit..i was a hit.

why? the all powerful HE..the mcp..over powered by a she..
he can pay the price life demands..why accept whats free
what makes the worthless priceless, what screens the screened
between words..beyond meanings..to read what am i keen

one lesson in passing i learned from the passing her
silence ..bails out..of the questions you do not wanna answer
acknowledge not their existence..as if they were never asked..
if prodded deep..become blunt..say irrelevant and surpass

like a storm she leaves..a mayhem..is what gets up from the bed
no it was no dream, was awake..and she was in my head
and yeah, she wasn’t boring..no dream for that matter was
but after all this while..she came back..i wonder what was the cause

may be cont.

so easy to do things on your own
the solo pride the exclusive bemoan
the absence of the retrospective,the “if” or the “but”
you knocked the door..ok if it remained shut.

the lifeless company that doesn’t complain of the walk
the own self , which would hear as long as you talk
and when you tire, no one has to wait,
and you needn’t match to an energetic gait

no expectations to meet sans the ones you set
no rooms to make for the ones who request.
no one to frown that you do not smile
your pains and the endemic rile.

freecell is good, time knows you not.
the limitless times, the unconquered can be fought.
the wounds that you shield from the world, from pity
its building, its roads and then you in the city

the absence of competition or the incompetent
the lack of responsibility or commitment
the rules that you make and whimsically break
you live ,love and die your your own sake.

new thoughts,ideas and a vision of future
when you mechanically followed the blinking cursor
you spelled his name, may be read it aloud..
he had earned a place, he was proud..

messages,that enlightened more the screen
unscreened emotions..subtly seen
a smile for the sender or laugh at the joke
never did he know..nor did he poke

one step ahead..the voice exchange..
time spent like loose change
the beholders astonished..what could be the talk
few revolutions for the hour hand of the clock

and the poor notebook..by the side of you phone
victim of your ramblings,by your designs adorned..
the world could then wait..while he was on other end..
nothing wrong could happen..nothing needed an amend

and then something did and he still has no clue
you changed your number..that was all he knew..
what a gudgeon for all labor it took..
a speechless place in your address book