Sunday, 24 June 2012

A philosopher's warning

This was what I had been telling people for years. Nobody listened. It was frustrating. How long will people keep enjoying the materialistic? Will they remain in the dark forever, till the world crumbles and sweep their bodies along? It was a sudden rise in temper. The frustration that the truth was ignored. I ran towards my table, fumbled with my pen as it moved on its own accord. It was no longer connected to my exasperated limbs, but to my determined mind. Which is why you are reading this.....

Yield not, to the fierce beauty
and charms of the queens of Illusion.
Mind not, the epidemics
that strike
the future, yours and others alike.
Heed not, the poisons that travel
ears to ears, mouths to mouths.
Anger not, the

Monday, 18 June 2012

Another walk in the city – I

Its not easy maintaining a blog. Especially when ideas simply do not strike you as to what to write about. Thinking about it, I told myself, "Enough of deep stuff for a while." This one is light and breezy which surely needs no additional explanation.


“Ma, not again”, I shouted, horrified. 

It was only yesterday that I had purchased 4 packets of milk for her.

“Most of the milk is going to your stomach only”, was her constant defence.

Sighing, I got dressed for the umpteenth time this vacation. Seldom was I left alone to the privacy of my room. Some errand would come up or should I say, my sweet mother would cook them up and within 2 hours

Thursday, 14 June 2012

The Indian Marriage

When was the last time since you had gone for somebody's wedding? Me? It was a year and a half ago. This poem explains about a typical South Indian middle-class family's visit to their friend's marriage. It is written primarily from the view of a 6 month old infant who is dazed by this "big" journey away from his cosy cot. The idea was to make the readers feel the situation's environment from a different perspective. Here it goes.

The wailing child
cooed over by his sensible sibling,
both sandwiched between
their pompous mother and her unfocussed husband
(on the tenterhooks of his boss' call)
all crammed in a rickshaw
which comes to a screeching

Friday, 8 June 2012

Lost in the crossfire

This poem, which I created 2 years ago, was done with a sore heart and a suffered mind. Patience tests a man so hard, that he loses his sense of judgement. I felt I couldn't wait any longer for justice.Justice of a personal kind. Most of my friends would've already seen this poem on Facebook in my Notes. But what they do not know is that this will be the epilogue to the romantic-erotic poem on which i will embark 4 installments! This is an epilogue from the point of view of first person, full of deep meaning and intensity. But then again, YOU are the judges!

Rendering sorries were of no avail
as I bounded onward in the journey of life.
So deep were the regrets
that the wound never completely healed.
Sadness replete with shame,

Life was just as it was!

I wrote this poem when i was in Class 11, feeling very proud about this work then, although now i feel this was inexperienced work because at that time, I simply wrote what I felt. Being a Star Correspondent for a year, this poem appeared in The Times of India student edition dated Nov 11th, 2008. There was this sad feeling welling deep down inside. All my life long I made promises never fulfilling them. I was never a go-getter. The feelings reached a climax and the rest leaked out from the pen as follows:

Taken from google images
'Twas tough for him to face defeat
to face it...face to face;
'Twas tough for him to accept
that he was ordinary.
Excuses flowed from his mouth and 
promises hurled from his heart
but nothing went right at all,
life was just as it was...

Expectations high and afloat
in the minds of his parents;
hope writ large on their faces,
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