Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Genie and the magic lamp

I wonder what brings you here
It's not your love for me
It's not your enthusiasm for what I write
It's not your curiosity for my wellness.
Why are you here then? 
I know, you come to seek you
Because, you know you are in here
Hidden between the alphabets,
Weaved in tight, beyond escape.
I rub the lamp and you appear, my genie
With your magic powers, you make peacocks,
frogs, snakes and lizards appear.
Peacocks are alluring,
Frogs, snakes and lizards scare me,
How playful of you!
You keep me enticed, then disappear
I snared you in, my fingers freed you and
I gave you these powers
Yet, I wonder, Am I the genie, and you my master?

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Kamala Das

"The maggots" is one of my favorite poems of Kamala Das (scroll down to read it). I haven't read a lot of her, not even My Story, but I have always felt a deep admiration for her. It's almost like I can feel her pain, her longing for love. I don't believe most of her stories of lust. I think what she craved was love, not lust. Her  rebellion and poems were probably her only source of conveying her love. Could they be her secret love letters to someone? I wonder what she would have been if not a writer, probably might have fallen into depression and died premature. Well, this is just my judgement, although who are any of us to judge? 

Sometimes, I wish I was like her. I wish I had her valor, her finesse in writing and her capacity to emote and feel love. But then I remember how she died -- betrayed and unhappy! I wonder if she was ever happy. I think of all the poems that she wrote for herself that we never got to read. 

Kamala Das, I want to dig deep in your heart and live in there for a few days, hiding beneath your poise and feeling  nothing but fervent love. Burry your fragile self somewhere, and up hold the title of the brave lady people have adorned you with; otherwise, your soul won't endure the two of us.

"What is it to the corpse if the maggots nip?"

Friday, May 27, 2016

Rope walk

The cliffs stood high, steep and deep
The rope was thin, secure and long
I slogged, step by step, hands stretched, vertebrae straight.
I fought the wind, curbed my fear.
The harrowing depth stood tall beneath me,
Eager to gulp me in, coveting to defeat me.
Adamant, I trudged and tromped.
Insistent, to vanquish the cliff.
The wind savaged me with a gracious clout
The rope budged in an evil sway.
Groped by fear, my heart wept and feet slipped
I lulled in for confederates to come by,
harness me, and usher me to safety
One by one, they passed by,
Unmoved and non-chalant.
They didn't turn to me, they didn't reach   for me
It dawned on me then; confederates are houseguests. 
I recalled; they vacate after the feast. 
I smiled, and I flew, deep into the cliffs,
in search of a new visitant.

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Sensing her senses

She yearns warmth on her skin.
She earns stench on her ears!!!
Oh her poor olfactory, auditory organs,
Their vision brings no sense,
to their senses! 

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Mid night ride

It's 1.30 am on May1st. I'm riding back to the apartment on campus limo. Would have taken me 3 mins to walk, but with the wait, this wil almost taking 15-20 mins. The limo is filled with drunk undergrad boys and, girls in skimpy clothes who are returning from their boyfriend's dorms. I think they are all naive and believe in love.  Me? I don't know, may be wise, but definitely sleepy.