...

This is a continuation of a story I first wrote. I intend writing a long short-story. Hopefully, I will be able to develop further the core idea very soon.

Don't leave. Anjali's doe-like eyes pleaded. Flooded with tears that stoically refused to trickle, yet refusing to be placated. The soft rays of the setting sun entered between the bars of the window and cast a mushy glow on her that longed to be caressed and held in my hands.

I looked at my hands. Large, rough, hardened. My hands yearned for her soft palms, my fingers longed for her delicately shaped ones that playfully intertwined with mine. I looked at her, at the yellow chiffon dupatta curled around her neck and shoulders. How radiant she looked even in sadness! I stared at her for a while. What was it about her that pulled me away from my world into hers. Was it the curious mix of sheer brilliance of conviction admixed with the genteel charm she exuded? Was it the sharp contrast of her quiet disposition in the public against the opinionated and outspoke I knew when we were in each other's company. She always had and has this knowing look in her eyes, the quiet confidence that I quickly lost myself in. She would listen in wondrous innocence, like a child discovering the world; and then she could speak in a continuous gush of words as if there were no tomorrow.

What was it about her I wondered. I mulled. I hated confusion. I hated ambiguity. I hated this quagmire of not having my answers. And then again, I loved every second of this medusa.

to be contd.

Get Going

So, while I struggle to come up with half-a-decent idea for my thesis, I ran into this I-need-to-write-a-poem-to-vent-the-frustration mood that culminated into a fun piece... here it goes:

oh c'mon you ferret
sitting morose and upset
your mirror image disagrees
asks the dead mood to get upbeat

what the hell is wrong
you sing such a dull sad song
the madness is missing
monkeys won't swing along

sorry the hand won't move
the words don't any sense strew
but excuses gotta stop
the champion has to start anew

seeing my own words with pride
i smile and decide
if i can write so much
the thesis should be a jolly ride!

no more sap

Methinks me has to stop the sap. It's boring to look at the weepy stuff I put up here. So from now, I am going to do some serious diary-style mulling, and some serious story writing here. Need to hone the story telling skills. Is that the maternal instinct beckoning? Who knows!

Untitled

I haven't written in a while. I try to post something every month, I guess I missed Oct 09 by a day. It's ironical how my blog is full of poems, yet the blog identity suggests anything but a collection of poems! Abinav also pointed out recently that I haven't written in a while. So here I go again!

My life has been anything, but peaceful, in the last couple of years. I lost all father figures in my life in this span, all men in my life just disappeared. To be honest, it sent me reeling. I just don't know how I managed to breathe in the last year especially after my father passed away. But live I have! And my facebook pics are testimonial to my working-weekdays-partying-weekends lifestyle.

Yet, I find the greatest joy in a quiet moment of solitude, in contemplation. Not just introspection, as a matter of fact, I am wary of self-prosecution as I end up feeling cut up with myself. I think about the ways of the world, the times we live in, the events we are witness to. I often think about how difficult it must have been for the first generation Indians to come to this faraway land and alien culture that must have been so hostile to them in the beginning. Hostile climates, clementine interactions. A friend was talking about how her dad came to the US in 1970 from the then Bombay to Chicago in January. And everyone looked at him as though he got out of a UFO. They hadn't heard of a place called India. Strange? More terrifying, I would say.

My life is so simple. I chat with mom everyday, see her face everyday - though she lives oceans away. I can talk to her at any time. My sister is updated with the important events in my life. I haven't as yet held my lil nephew in my arms, yet I see grin and monkey around to catch him smiling on the webcam at least once a week! A long lost friend was rediscovered and I am in conversation with her everyday though she lives in NZ. I cook Indian food and my kitchen is stocked with exotic stuff ranging from kesar to kokum to tamarind to even goda and dabeli masala! All bought in the local Indian store.

Those first generation Indian immigrants were a courageous lot. Traveling miles from the familiarity, comfort and luxury of home to a place not-so-welcoming of them, that calls for courage of conviction. Yes, they sought a better life, but they had to sacrifice a lot to win their medals and build their homes. I can't imagine living in those times. I would run back home. I know I couldn't have survived.

I often chide my parents for belonging to a confused generation that was stuck between the traditions of the old, the liberterian younger generation and their own dreams. Yet, today, I stand to benefit from some of their sacrifices, their inventions, their discoveries. Quietly, they lay a solid foundation for us, the children of the 90s to erect our glorious edifices on. And to them, I credit my comfortable life of today.

the first journey

Starting out as a cell
A white morulous swell
Lubbing dubbbing third week
Spouting fingers'n'toes sleek

Squished up inside
A warm cocoon to reside
Months of hibernation
Then kicking in preparation

Our lives squeezed in a funnel
through the whirlpool of a narrow tunnel
We come to the light
Of warm hopes, smiles and delight

Thanks

Delirious with joy am I
Eyes brimming with tears
Oscillating wildly between extremes
Emotional pendulum, I cry

Coldplay cooing a trance
I lift my hands wide in the air to the chorus
Rain drops falling large and fast
Wiping the sweat and wrinkles from my face

Levitating I am in tragicomedy
Who might it be elevating my status
A thousand faces I can fix on those strong shoulders
Bow to thee all, in utter humility

The interplay of laughter and tears
Antonymic in their act
Thanks to you, I survive
The roller coaster we ride together

Come back NOW.

The temptation to call
A peek into my inbox
Has there been a shred of evidence
That we're being remembered this Fall?

Shunt you out, I haven't
Blasphemous a call
Yo-yo goes the plea
For a distance unpleasant

Come back old times
For fun, frolic and smiles
Unbridled with distraught
Bring back the sunshine.