this is a story of a 6 footer on move,
spiky haired and a stylish groove,
he laughs on skimpy chubby dudes,
sly smiles and and flirting now on truce,
Pink Floyd's lyrics seems the way to live,
Black is the song, black his colour,
cries like a baby,during a laughing stutter,
Football and ayn rand, just for a girl,
avoids the smoke but drinks to hurl,
call it a whiskey or a tequilla in a swig,
can party till dawn, life hanging on a twig,
trance is the night, trance is the day,
romantic in soul, street smart on tray,
technology can take him for a bumpy ride,
all the philosophy is his juggling pride,
popular and infamous at the same time,
trying his words with hers to rhyme,
A for the audi and V for the shots of vodka,
life aint a long story,so as colored as polka,
classes he shall not attend, nor the gym,
lean and lanky, beer belly just near the brink!
surprises and beaches and an anonymous group,
castaway, wild plans to elope with a rocking troop,
and he shall preach in a voice like a barrister,
shy to sing, pranks being the stress buster,
in the end what is left to say,
sleeping teddy, a modern retro Che!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
" A MYRMIDON " (4-12-2009)
[...MYRMIDONS are warriors, participated in Trojan war, they will execute any order without any questions, followers of Achilles..]
what's the color of his ebbing blood,
the eyes of a Martinet, peril by flood,
the soil in Troy, a benediction from mother,
A myrmidon's war cry, devoid of black dither.
The mind so agog, death is the prize,
no contemplation, no fear will thrive,
Turtle's carapace and a shielding ivory sword,
the mistress left behind, expecting no reward.
abeyance from the land, for the people,
misery soils the linen, as the toll triples,
days and nights, slips into a quagmire,
drinking spirits, walking on the holy fire!
and the victor will return, burnt and killed,
arrow in the chest, caressed by sea winds,
in the times like these, what's germane?
orator's word or a martyr's sandy trail !
what's the color of his ebbing blood,
the eyes of a Martinet, peril by flood,
the soil in Troy, a benediction from mother,
A myrmidon's war cry, devoid of black dither.
The mind so agog, death is the prize,
no contemplation, no fear will thrive,
Turtle's carapace and a shielding ivory sword,
the mistress left behind, expecting no reward.
abeyance from the land, for the people,
misery soils the linen, as the toll triples,
days and nights, slips into a quagmire,
drinking spirits, walking on the holy fire!
and the victor will return, burnt and killed,
arrow in the chest, caressed by sea winds,
in the times like these, what's germane?
orator's word or a martyr's sandy trail !
to "constant nagging" 3-12-09 [read encouragement]
Somewhere down a squalid lane,
Hazy foggy distant lonely plain,
Searching for a clue but no sign,
May be a bell or a little girl child!
Fate and endurance, two sides of a coin,
when looks succeeds, and practice dies,
where eagle stammers and crow rise,
the land where u can't touch the air,
where little girls have unanswered prayers!
In the end the gold is what matters,
Hope is one dirty unkempt infamous liar,
Where fair play is ruled out, a secret unkept,
Games get ugly, and toil is unrewarded ,
the Queen is arrogant and plays her pawns,
u hope to run, but there is no better land,
you stay, and wait till you join the circle,
copying the moves, imitating the noise,
holding a head held high, proud intellectual poise,
and thus you begin a new life,
shaky foundation on a careening tide,
and the shoulders will droop and thoughts will dry,
inspiration falters and seduction rules,
Pity is the state and Rumor is the house!
big is the plunder shame is your night,
living the days, empty and naive!
and there is one who says to retire,
its too late to change, as the game aint tired,
you prolong the end, and pay the cheques,
glamorous life and the green satin dress!
who keeps the score and who is the refree?
Still searching for a clue but no sign,
May be a rusted bell or a little girl child!
Standing somewhere down a squalid lane,
In a hazy foggy distant unseen plain!
Hazy foggy distant lonely plain,
Searching for a clue but no sign,
May be a bell or a little girl child!
Fate and endurance, two sides of a coin,
when looks succeeds, and practice dies,
where eagle stammers and crow rise,
the land where u can't touch the air,
where little girls have unanswered prayers!
In the end the gold is what matters,
Hope is one dirty unkempt infamous liar,
Where fair play is ruled out, a secret unkept,
Games get ugly, and toil is unrewarded ,
the Queen is arrogant and plays her pawns,
u hope to run, but there is no better land,
you stay, and wait till you join the circle,
copying the moves, imitating the noise,
holding a head held high, proud intellectual poise,
and thus you begin a new life,
shaky foundation on a careening tide,
and the shoulders will droop and thoughts will dry,
inspiration falters and seduction rules,
Pity is the state and Rumor is the house!
big is the plunder shame is your night,
living the days, empty and naive!
and there is one who says to retire,
its too late to change, as the game aint tired,
you prolong the end, and pay the cheques,
glamorous life and the green satin dress!
who keeps the score and who is the refree?
Still searching for a clue but no sign,
May be a rusted bell or a little girl child!
Standing somewhere down a squalid lane,
In a hazy foggy distant unseen plain!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
"when bored in LIDO lab" [devil smiles] 15-07-09
High heels, red lipers and a black attire,
Low on make-up, still mouthing fire,
Walking down the ramp or a crowded lane,
Those staring guys and perplexed plain Janes!
Racing and a fast life, still no haste,
All the attitude gathered is no waste,
Talk and will stay up till dawn,
Pacing cars and manoeuvring pawns,
Living every minute and who is sedated?
Paying all the bills, jeans are faded,
Crying under a pillow and swollen eyes,
Something done, now a stinking forlorn pie,
"Learnt" when no one was around,
Taught by no teachers, but scavenging hounds,
And still smiling and not an outlaw,
Nails red as blood, Eyes done with no flaw,
And when you look up, watch the glow,
Who gives a damn! Its a friend or a foe!
Low on make-up, still mouthing fire,
Walking down the ramp or a crowded lane,
Those staring guys and perplexed plain Janes!
Racing and a fast life, still no haste,
All the attitude gathered is no waste,
Talk and will stay up till dawn,
Pacing cars and manoeuvring pawns,
Living every minute and who is sedated?
Paying all the bills, jeans are faded,
Crying under a pillow and swollen eyes,
Something done, now a stinking forlorn pie,
"Learnt" when no one was around,
Taught by no teachers, but scavenging hounds,
And still smiling and not an outlaw,
Nails red as blood, Eyes done with no flaw,
And when you look up, watch the glow,
Who gives a damn! Its a friend or a foe!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Hermit
The aching heart beholds the end of an era,
Like the wine competing with a pint of vodka,
Where will the courtier find the sword of Damoclez?
Is it hidden where legends forego the winner's pledge?
A ten thousand bill is worth some humble pennies,
Like the king Midas, an Emperor or the mendicant?
Why cognac is not worth a diamond chalice,
And hidden the tale of the prince and the tresses,
The doubts snigger and haunts a dreamless soul,
Is an act of living or the contempt being foretold,
When a feather avoids the laconic prose,
And winged horses sweats, drawing a poetic course,
Are the victuals really dropped from heaven,
Or the turkey is sacrificing at the lucifer's carnival,
What pure and what is being disturbed?
Are the laws of power written in the Testament?
Can you touch and tell that is it real?
Or what you feel is the one not a dream,
Are you the navigator or just some actor,
Is this an unseen voyage or a scene in a theatre,
Are the feats and not the tears that count?
Negate the logic, dare to explore the Hermit's mind.
Like the wine competing with a pint of vodka,
Where will the courtier find the sword of Damoclez?
Is it hidden where legends forego the winner's pledge?
A ten thousand bill is worth some humble pennies,
Like the king Midas, an Emperor or the mendicant?
Why cognac is not worth a diamond chalice,
And hidden the tale of the prince and the tresses,
The doubts snigger and haunts a dreamless soul,
Is an act of living or the contempt being foretold,
When a feather avoids the laconic prose,
And winged horses sweats, drawing a poetic course,
Are the victuals really dropped from heaven,
Or the turkey is sacrificing at the lucifer's carnival,
What pure and what is being disturbed?
Are the laws of power written in the Testament?
Can you touch and tell that is it real?
Or what you feel is the one not a dream,
Are you the navigator or just some actor,
Is this an unseen voyage or a scene in a theatre,
Are the feats and not the tears that count?
Negate the logic, dare to explore the Hermit's mind.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A cup of coffee...
The pattering of an aestival rain,
Streets like Venice n ebbing drains,
Clouds imbued with greyish tint,
Umbrellas fluttered grasping the hint,
And the trees bathed new and green,
A girl so puerile, danced and careened.
And we ran towards an old coffee house,
Aromatic and dark like an obedient spouse.
And the glassy walls exuded and shone,
As a young barista exalts in its ambience,
Doling out white cups of Intransigence,
And one sip of that coffee like philter,
The potion ran filtering away our shame,
And as we locked eyes, on a brink of confession,
Sitting there hypnotised, awared of no recession,
And as the Rainy slithered and crawled,
A romance was born short-lived and withdrawn!
Streets like Venice n ebbing drains,
Clouds imbued with greyish tint,
Umbrellas fluttered grasping the hint,
And the trees bathed new and green,
A girl so puerile, danced and careened.
And we ran towards an old coffee house,
Aromatic and dark like an obedient spouse.
And the glassy walls exuded and shone,
As a young barista exalts in its ambience,
Doling out white cups of Intransigence,
And one sip of that coffee like philter,
The potion ran filtering away our shame,
And as we locked eyes, on a brink of confession,
Sitting there hypnotised, awared of no recession,
And as the Rainy slithered and crawled,
A romance was born short-lived and withdrawn!
Friday, July 18, 2008
WHY DO INDIAN MEN OGLE??
Well, I am entirely awared that some of my friends[non-female] and Indian by birth and domicile will have grave objections and strong justifications against the title of this write up.Calling it an article or a write up is an understatement. Its much more than that, its outburst of ineffable emotions and disgust I have held since I started travelling on my own! I understand that there are men ogling at the fairer sex irrespective of any nationality..But since I have the first hand experience of this insulting and anguishing stares only in my land, thus I cannot comment on Non-Indian men.
Though I am not a raconteur, let me start by narrating some anecdotes which are so morally drained.Have you noticed a girl standing at a bus stop or better still travelling in a DTC bus. Well, if you are a boy offcourse you have! But next time when you see a girl walking alone in a busy not so posh market road just notice her closely.Yeah..I am really asking you to look at her!! She will be in a rush,completely conscious of her surroundings though trying to portray I-don't-care look and fully aware of those impertinent looks thrown freely in her direction! Man! She is not some celebrity ..Can't you guys let her walk in peace. The guilty here are most of the times unshaved public vehicle drivers, those dusty workers digging some road or some trying to copy Dhoom bikers! Well, I agree that their education has been limited and a subject on mannerism has been conveniently kept out of their curriculm. But believe me, they are a part of larger Indian population than those few who have taken their Moral Science seriously! The obscene gestures, lewd remarks on just anything possible, the temerity of pushing a girl or vituperations of these bus drivers and their mates. A girl goes through all this and more! Alas! we are developing and emerging...Eve-Teasing and Vulgarity in public behaviour is heading in the same direction as Global warming.
And if I reflect on the national agendas raised by some political parties then I cannot find a single party vouching to make the Indian roads anymore safer for girls and women to traverse. They strain their cords to gather minority votes, to woo the majority voters yet again and these insolent eve teasers with odd reservations and meritless quotas..But I cannot remember a single politician wasting the party's election resourses on woman voters. Strangely Indian Popualtion has 48.1% women! If we leave political parties alone, and dwell upon the reactions offered by a paunchy languid betel chewing policeman after listening to a complain from the fairer sex, I cannot be less disgusted. They can just offer you smirks or weird and petulant smiles in return! The condition is extremely revolting and unbearable, atleast for me.The state is so bad that I have made a resolution not to raise my daughter/daughters in this country. I know this decision is quite far-fetched but such is the extent of my irateness.
But till now we have been aberrating from the title" why do Indian men ogle?". Either they have this notion that they are always walking in a sanctuary and a female walking by is an intriguing species on brink of extinction! Or these guys have just landed on our planet from Neptune and they have not seen a female before! Well that explains the stares...but what about those ribald remarks and frowardness. I have just one logical explanation to it or rather two. They are devoid of any principles and morals and are budding crimnals who sleep without any conscience. And if such is the number of prospective crimnals in our country then we need to rethink about the foundation on which this nation stands! Man!! Is respecting a female is such a gargantuan task! I think it just needs inculcating some respect for your mothers,sisters and daughters back home. None of you are vagabonds i assume.
And now i have a brilliant plan to combat this arcane evil! Its kind of out of blue.It goes like this:
Every girl should be trained to use a pistol[ just a small one]. She should be given free licenses to carry this weapon, once she reaches the age of fourteen. And anyone..I mean it...just anyone who misbehaves with her, she should have legal right to shoot that person immediately.And to make the plan less unrealistic we can use tranquillizers in form of pistols.May be the hours of unconsciousness can wake up their conscience some day!
Though I am not a raconteur, let me start by narrating some anecdotes which are so morally drained.Have you noticed a girl standing at a bus stop or better still travelling in a DTC bus. Well, if you are a boy offcourse you have! But next time when you see a girl walking alone in a busy not so posh market road just notice her closely.Yeah..I am really asking you to look at her!! She will be in a rush,completely conscious of her surroundings though trying to portray I-don't-care look and fully aware of those impertinent looks thrown freely in her direction! Man! She is not some celebrity ..Can't you guys let her walk in peace. The guilty here are most of the times unshaved public vehicle drivers, those dusty workers digging some road or some trying to copy Dhoom bikers! Well, I agree that their education has been limited and a subject on mannerism has been conveniently kept out of their curriculm. But believe me, they are a part of larger Indian population than those few who have taken their Moral Science seriously! The obscene gestures, lewd remarks on just anything possible, the temerity of pushing a girl or vituperations of these bus drivers and their mates. A girl goes through all this and more! Alas! we are developing and emerging...Eve-Teasing and Vulgarity in public behaviour is heading in the same direction as Global warming.
And if I reflect on the national agendas raised by some political parties then I cannot find a single party vouching to make the Indian roads anymore safer for girls and women to traverse. They strain their cords to gather minority votes, to woo the majority voters yet again and these insolent eve teasers with odd reservations and meritless quotas..But I cannot remember a single politician wasting the party's election resourses on woman voters. Strangely Indian Popualtion has 48.1% women! If we leave political parties alone, and dwell upon the reactions offered by a paunchy languid betel chewing policeman after listening to a complain from the fairer sex, I cannot be less disgusted. They can just offer you smirks or weird and petulant smiles in return! The condition is extremely revolting and unbearable, atleast for me.The state is so bad that I have made a resolution not to raise my daughter/daughters in this country. I know this decision is quite far-fetched but such is the extent of my irateness.
But till now we have been aberrating from the title" why do Indian men ogle?". Either they have this notion that they are always walking in a sanctuary and a female walking by is an intriguing species on brink of extinction! Or these guys have just landed on our planet from Neptune and they have not seen a female before! Well that explains the stares...but what about those ribald remarks and frowardness. I have just one logical explanation to it or rather two. They are devoid of any principles and morals and are budding crimnals who sleep without any conscience. And if such is the number of prospective crimnals in our country then we need to rethink about the foundation on which this nation stands! Man!! Is respecting a female is such a gargantuan task! I think it just needs inculcating some respect for your mothers,sisters and daughters back home. None of you are vagabonds i assume.
And now i have a brilliant plan to combat this arcane evil! Its kind of out of blue.It goes like this:
Every girl should be trained to use a pistol[ just a small one]. She should be given free licenses to carry this weapon, once she reaches the age of fourteen. And anyone..I mean it...just anyone who misbehaves with her, she should have legal right to shoot that person immediately.And to make the plan less unrealistic we can use tranquillizers in form of pistols.May be the hours of unconsciousness can wake up their conscience some day!
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