To go or not to go

Leave the soul, a little piece of it

Enter the garden of eden,
The fruits aren't forbidden anymore,
The enigmatic rivers launder the brain
It's only a little soul after all.

Keep your soul, the whole of it,
Enter the unpaved path,
Be wary of lizards or butterflies
Monsters or angels, tulips or titan arums.
The soul is intact, may be.

Garden of Edens is the plethora of gaiety,
The unmapped pavement to mystery; alluring!!!

Game of Cards

Three players shuffled cards for life.

One; able, won all the rounds.

Two; blindly played hoping to win.

Three; unable and aware, will never win,

Kept playing, fetching only spare points.

                            

Last night I died, my soul cried 

Can I be Jesus and reincarnate? 

My men need me, the young and the old.

Many have tried to kill me, 

They impaired my brain, 

My rugged soul stayed intact.

Last night, my soul quivered,

The threat of my one man being no man

You can do what they couldn't 

Blemish my skin, soul and gray matter.

My love, Just look around me,

I'm in a black hole, I have no escape 

My hands are free, but no anchor can save me

My voice is loud, but no ears can hear me 

I see you, bright and vivid... 

I see your stretched hand, I see your antsy eyes 

But you cannot hear me, you cannot see me

Your eyes seek me, your loved ones seek u

I fear I will pull you down,

Into my black hole, a dearth of no return.

Yet my heart yearns,

Find me, oh my love, please find me

Hold my hand

Careless my hair

Forgive my fretful cribbing

And preserve me in your warmth

I will cry, I will whine, I will bicker

Hold me tight and not let me go 

Or I will die, my soul will wither. 

Thanksgiving 2016

Thank you for that sun that rose in the west,

Showed me all the stars hidden in the east.

Thank you for that moon shining in the north  

Refrains my serotonin from going to the south. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Yellow corridor

The corridor was long and yellow,

With red doors on either sides,

Each one opened to a unique story

At 5'3", she stood short, shrunk 

Gazing at him walking away.

His maroon shirt and black backpack,

Blanketed his heavy, ponderous heart.

The one she knew had room for her. 

It is only a few hours and

He would be back

She could write, read and learn

Or she could take care of a child

She had resources to pass the time,

It is only a few hours after all.

Yet, she knew....

One day he would walk that corridor 

The same yellow long one with red doors

And she would stand there, short and shrunk

Not knowing if he would be back.

What would she do?

When uncertainty persists,

She might diminish to infinity,

She might recoil to detonate

Or she might prosper and thrive,

To become the queen of the castle.

Right now, it is only a few hours

And he will be back,

Clad in his maroon shirt and bearing a light backpack. 

Love and friendship

Watching Love and Friendship with only 3 other people in the theatre than us... A rough morning with "whatsapp trolling" hopefully will be made up with the movie!!! Phew...! 

When love is lost, seek friends! 

In Geetha

I perused the stanzas of "Geetha" one after the other,

Fervently seeking the mastery of "I".

Searching the answers I seek,

Striving to crack His code
Being my own scout in espionage.

Neither need I attain Brahma nor undying gaiety.

All I whim is a good night sleep,

With my senses not at the land of risen sun

Following an eensy ray of sunlight to

To ebb my vitamin D deficiency.

No! I do not have rickets,
Just the cognitive infirmities that come with it.

Frantic, I read as many pages as I could.

Oh Krishna, I wondered, is it my naviety or the author's brevity

That's making these chapters arduous?

At last night, as my weary self catnapped 

Ears still alert for the buzzing of a note.

He came to me, He came to me!

"Oh Krishna, my Lord, what took you so long", I whined.

Wasn't my devotion ardent?

Weren't my payers loud, my rituals right

Or is it that my flowers weren't bright?
Bless me the answers I seek, I cried.

"I beg thee my lord! Please tell me, please tell me"

"Let me sleep tonight, as calm as my Child next to me".

"Is my agony the reward I bidded"? 

"My lord, kanaiya, I plead thee, Save me!

"Do not cry my Child", He said...

"You are the answers your seek"

Mystified, I opened my eyes, tearful as ever.

Oh lord, you left me awake, 

how many more restive nightfalls shall I endure,

To discern these answers you left unanswered!

That big water falls

If I gather all the tears I cry for you,

And convene all the ache I cannot eschew,

I can lay out a colossal water fall,

So monumental, it will put Chutes de Khones to shame.

I wish to drown deep into it, never to

Be on your face again, never to 

Crawl on your brain again. 

Yet, deep in the darkness of repose 

when water fills my nostrils & 

lungs gasp for oxygen, 
Before ears go numb,  
Before I sink back up,

And after the colors start to fade,

Alas, The heart will wish against all my wills,

To be seen by you, to be held to safety by you.
If you appear, do not take me home.
Ride with me there where I wish to be-

In the land of the rainbows and the reindeers.
There I go, deluded by my weary sanity Again!
I do know, I do know. 
You wouldn't come.... You cannot come....
You are at a chateau, far far away where
Bedrooms are furnished with roses and tulips
Living room adorned with sweet candies and unicorns.
Then some orchids and cacti fill the empty spaces.
You are there, your abode, too far away,
The thick white walls immune to the whomping of the falls.

Will there be a day?

Will there be a day again, when I skim 

Through 1000 faces & catch a glimpse of u?

Will there be a day again, when
We wake up from our realities & I'm beside you?

Will there be a day again, when 
I stare into the empty walls, too shy to meet your eyes?

Will there be a day again, when
You ploy a skillful deceit for me to
fall in love FOR you. 

Will there be a day again, when I slip deep

Into your chest and weep vehemently?

Will there be a day again, when I hold

Tight to your arms, not to let go again?

Will there be a day...ever...when 
With arms around your neck,
fingers running through your hair,
Drenching you in my tears,
I get to tell you... I get to tell you...

Do not worry, my love...

You haven't hurt me much.

You haven't hurt me much... Only as much as I love you!

Mulberries

I sit under this tree, the name of which I do not know,

The shadows so soothing and healing.
Birds chirruping all around,
tiny worms nourishing on fallen fruits. 

The fruits resemble mulberry, 

Like the ones I saw on my uncle's

Neighbor's terrace when I was young, 

So young that I hadn't 

Started bleeding.

So young that butterflies were just insects
And Chikkus were just fruits... 

How I wish I was there!

On that terrace, my tongue purple

From nibbling the mulberries

Will the bridge I see ahead of me,

Take me there, where I want to be.

Where I can twirl and twirl in my 
Red long skirt, never to lose a step, 

The merry land with sweet ripe berries.

Nothing Land

I wish I go on a trip, far far away

Into a mythical mystical island

Where there is no love

Where there is no warmth

Where there is no dismay

Where there is no fright 

Where heart knows nothing 

Nothing here, nothing there, nothing everywhere. 

Where trees sparkle like Amethysts

Where wild fruits sate my appetite 

Where limpid streams keep me content

Where I need nothing, but nothings.

I wish to go on a trip, far far away! 

Mirage

As I walk across the arid sandy dunes

Hungry, thirsty and weary,

Steps away, Just a quarter furlong away.

I sight the island, with flowing streams and lush greens,

Eager to soak in the cold flow 

of the stream and recline in the tranquil green grass, 

I go a step ahead, but stall.

I fear the island is a mirage

If I step too close, it might vanish.

I stay back, thirsty, not to lose sight of it.

Autotomy

He felt like a prey in a Boa's clasp, 

constricted by her tight grasp and

suffocated by her intemperate emotions.

Lazing on his unclad chest, finger nails bruising 

his biceps, toes restful on his arched feet,

She whined and whined to him,

"Talk to me, my love"!

"Flatter me for my brown eyes, 

my unruly hair and tiny lips.

Praise the imprecise lines I form as

I dance and my imperfect posture as I walk.

Laud my nagging concern for your well being

 and my subtle fragilities".

"What is in words"? he spewed. 

"Nothing, nothing beyond dilutions", She said.

What is in words", she wondered, 

Shall I ask the deaf, the dumb and the mute?

She knew - Words are like lizard's autotomy,

a defense; the balancing tail that is bitten off 

Fearful it will become a threat. 

Another tail will grow in its place.

She knew and yet she whined and whined again.

"Talk to me, my love", she whispered. 

The charcoal collector

Be prudent, Invest in gold, they said.

What use is of gold to me? I thought.

Gold is a tawdry shiny metal in my closet,

Which is worth some dimes only when I sell it.

Not contemplating, I invested in dark coal charcoal,

Coal is a catalyst and a propellent, I was taught in school.
Appealing! 

With all my savings, I bought them all,

All the charcoal I could possess.

I saved it in my prettiest boxes,

These boxes, a family inheritance was adorned with jewels
 I gathered over 3 decades, very exorbitant purchases.

I hand picked the coal and placed them in my box, 

Glancing at them with delight and pride. 

After 100 sleepless nights, when the last box was closed,
I was struck by disbelief.

The boxes appeared tainted and drab, 

the jewels sparkled no more. 

Would gold have tarnished my boxes, I
I mused and brushed the thought away. 

No trains run on charcoal anymore,

Electric trains are cleaner and smokeless. 

My fingers aren't long, fine or tender like an artist's,
 to generate from the coal beautiful 

Sketches of children, landscapes or animals. 

Stubborn to vanquish defeat,

Exhausted and dozy, I transferred the coal to the new boxes,

the fancy ones, stain resistant. 

On the 10th working day, my reflection on the 1000th
stainless steel box surface spotted a glimpse of me. 

It saw black blotches all over me.

It saw an imbecile buffoon, inert to the laughing audience. 

I was still cautiously placing the coals,

In the new box, in order, one by one. 

Baggage lost at Chennai

What is really going on- like everything that is happening to me isn't stressful enough? My baggage is missing. All I wanted to do was get home and just take a deep breath. It's been around 30 hours between airports and aeroplanes. 

Demented

Tear me into pieces,

Burn me into ashes,

Drown me in the Ganges.

But when I'm reborn, 

I will reincarnate with this

Same heart; red, blemished and

disfigured by your long lost warmth.

Like the hunch back of Notre Dame,

Let me be dubbed the demented of Nothing Damn! 

Red Sympathy blooms

I planted these red roses in my front yard 2 years ago. I planted 3 other different variety roses with this one, but this was my favorite. Every spring since I planted them, I consistently checked on them, watered them, fertilizered them and waited for a full bloom; but in dismay. While my other roses bloomed in hundreds, this one thwarted my wish, only occasionally giving me 5-6 roses here and there.

With so much going on this spring, I never payed attention to my roses. Never gave them a drop of water; but look what happened. They bloomed better than I had ever imagined, more beautiful than I had expected. These photos don't do any justice to how beautiful they are. They are blood red, not pink as it looks here. There isn't even a bud on my other roses, probably because I didn't trim them in time.

Look at this one. Looks like this plant wanted to bring me some color amidst all the drab.  But the whole time I paid attention, it disappointed me, but when I stepped back, it made me happy. This is probably what some relationships need too, less attention from me to bloom! 

May be it is just a pity bloom, the roses feeling sorry for me; Do not know, but I like to believe that unlike people, these roses really love me. They didn't come to me when I wanted them, but they did when I needed them! Wish us people were so considerate. 

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?

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?"

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.