The Eternal Optimist Unplugged - Version 1.0

"Mirror, mirror, mirror on my shelf
Am I doing well for myself?"

I mentally echoed this question off my mirror and I saw the reflection of a tired teenager with sunken eyes without the glow of continuous energy he once had.

I'm here with this post to make a....ah, what's that phrase? 'a clean breast of everything' to the best possible extent. And this might not be just about me. You may be in the same boat as me in the same lake, or perhaps in a cruise in the ocean ways with no visible captain steering that unstable ship of your life. So, you might be able to do yourself a favor by reading on.

THE Autodriver - Hidden truths about Chennai

Let me skip the part where I say this happened when I was doing my internship and I chose to meet up with my almost-always-awfully-late but an awesome project partner in the evenings at Express Avenue - Chennai's best and most celebrated mall in the recent times. Simply put, the atmosphere was condusive there. Well, there was this fashion show that took place with gorgeuos models with glowing skin and rich dresses which I shall....Ahem ahem...conveniently skip (Now now, no groaning) to discuss matters of greater significance.

Note: All conversations are in English, for readers' convenience.





"Express Avenue", I said firmly to an auto I just managed to catch in a road that literally boasted CARS loudly.

"Evalo aavum (How much is the fare)", I asked promptly before setting my right foot inside the vehicle.

"Nooru ruva."

I set my right foot firmly inside the auto, carefully stowed my laptop bag to the side and started the trip, satisfied with his character. Little did I know that my next sentence would be the basis for this very post you are now reading.

Im being eaten up alive!!

I have gone nuts. I cant take drugs, go high or start shooting people. So, I turned to writing this one.


I'm not on drugs, I aint sane either.
I have no satisfaction, life, contentment neither.
Walking barely, zombie-alike
I strive to make sense in this one, Intense dislike
spewing from within, for no apt reason.
For all I know, this aint the success season.
March forth I did, with all smiles and confidence
Now, my faith is shaken, my mind is barren, clean but ripe with diffidence.
I feel my soul being sucked, my youth being plucked
(Hey, wasnt I strong when I withstood the thrown filth and muck?)
by the iron clasp of laziness and procrastination.
Although it does rhyme, the solution aint drugs and (chuckles) masturbation.


Once glorious, now sullen
but it hurts a lot, the change being sudden.
Lots of work, lots of responsibility.
I was ready long ago. Now, I've lost the capability
to be patient, to be forthcoming, to be bright,
to be happy, to be busy and to always be right.
Where is my soul? Where is my authority?
Desperately wanting my old self back, who lived with sense and priority.
I write a poem , when I grow sad,
happy, ballistic and in this case, MAD.
Save my soul, I need prayers
not heartless bastards, bitches and soothsayers!

Pain

I must say I am very busy with my 6th semester at the University taking a toll on many students with Record Submissions, extra curricular activities and what not. But I must say, writing certainly is the most sanest way of communicating with yourself. Nobody is going to whisper among themselves, " Gee, why is he talking to himself?"

So here I am, after a long gap, to fill in my readers with a poem I had written a year ago. Intense emotions of a kind swept me through and all I saw around me was darkness. I still recall that night, pen trembling at 1 15 am, sitting in another room letting my ink flow instead of tears.....


"Pain", I cry out
desperate and loud,
to escape 
the 5' 8" bodily torture,
enclosing forlorn thoughts, silent suffering
and predominantly
the humongous live being called pain
thriving upon my life
malnourishing and robbing it
of its color, joy and splendor.


"I'm in my own world."
Or so they say.
Little do they know that
I'm sharing that very world with Pain
who seeped through my limbs like
some unsavory invisibly matter.
"Ouch"- It bites nowadays
if not, hurts stronger.
Festive days and happy faces all around.
Is my life purpose over? 
Surely they wont leave me out, 
ditch me and forget me 
during and after that.
Surely not.


One turned neck, one question of concern,
one wave of sympathy.
Is hoping for this, all in vain?
Bordering on a fine line parting
self pity and selflessness,
I wonder,
Does no one want even help?
A fake smile, an air of pretended greatness
consciously ignoring the down slide of this birth. 
Enough of this melodrama!


Far away, near the gates of the netherworld,
I can spot the connoisseur of Death
and Death himself,
with comforting arms wide open.
Let me sink and fade away
into insignificance,
into the sleep which offers none a second chance,
into His permanent embrace
where I'll lie content eternally.

After a long time

That's how I'd put it. In my last few posts, I would have written that I felt this, I was reminded of this, etc etc. But how do you put that phrase? Ah yes, the in rush of the nostalgic memories. I really felt it violently assailing my head as I stood and prayed in the family temple which I used to regularly go from my more innocent days. Here's my another hopefully-good attempt at poetry about it.


Enter and behold
the sanctity and power of Thy presence
I look around and feel the hopes
and prayers pouring
from devout Hindus near and far from Thee.
Sparkling and bedecked in jewels,
dazzling in splendor of the glowing lamps of oil,
Thy form leaves me in awe
gasping for words, struggling for breath
as I enter, with hands together
and bowed head, Thank you.
For everything Thy blessed me with.


Waves of nostalgia try to sweep me
away from my pleas for forgiveness.

Taken from Google Images

One mischevous eyelid now open, I glance around.

So innocent were the yester years,

so playful was my former self

hoping to find the girl of my dreams here,

hoping to get a glimpse of Thee during crowded festivals,

hoping to always be in Thy good books.

Why did I change? I ask Thee.

I dont hear Thy voice

in my innermost conscience. Sigh.

All my successes are credited to Thee.
Mistake alone is mine,
when my action is bereft of the thought of Thee.
And that will be the day of my downfall.
Nay, I humbly prostrate
renouncing my possesions here and now.

I leave the temple with a lighter heart

asking for pardon.

Living in your shadow, Thy will, I pray,

take me soon with you,

to the higher regions of glory and silence.

And I will wait for Thee forever,

with bowed head and folded arms.

Come what may. Festivals, calamities, celebrations. mishaps. His blessings are the sole gifts that we need. Rest is secondary and immaterial. Once we are in His line of sight, we can have a sigh of relief. Because these days, that's what matters. Faith. I wish all my readers a very happy, prosperous, healthy, wealthy and a peaceful New Year 2013.

This is also a poem for the Prompt inspire by dVersePoets : The Poetics of Presents

The Beginning

Class 11 was one of the best years of my life. I had a fantastic birthday, I was beginning to be a writer of some sorts and every day in school turned out to be a glorious day for me. Midas touch feeling, to be precise. It was the peak, the epic zenith which I cannot replace or recreate whatever I do.

Today, 4 years later, I look back to realize the amount of clarity in my life I had before. Cozened by the enticing times of paradise, I now realize it was a paradigm of how anyone could get carried away with successes and happiness. It is now a slight pain that throbs occasionally, when small challenges are conquered, giving me the deja-vu of my golden past.

This piece of work was from such a time when I felt I was in the right track, when the blessings flowed in disguise. In abundance.


Dazzled by the splendor of the guiding light
mesmerized by the power of the unknown,
deep down a question arises. An illusion?
Or an awakening? I know not.
But now I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.


Having actualised the pain
and the fruits
provided by unflinching dedication and intense effort,
I have gained clear focus.
And now I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.


Physical and spiritual endurances
have been tested, far beyond tolerance
by Lust, Anger, Greed and Ego
which is why I now feel that
I walk
with a new spring
in every step of my life.


Having finally gained prescience
the obstacles lie waiting
for me to encounter them,
which I would, successfully
as I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.

Absolutely Random

This is my first not-a-prior-prepared post. I still dont understand what came over me to write this.




 Every time wanted to pen my thoughts down, I got hooked on to some other work immediately. Why am I starting my post like this? Because I did not convert my thoughts into a writing for about 5 times in the last week or so!


One question that I, and probably all the writers/students/people, should ask themselves is this: "What are my priorities and in what order should I go about them?"

I realized that being skilled in many areas is a dangerous positive rather than a helpful one. Being a Jack of all trades comes along with the price of having no space to breathe. The reason simply being that you try to put your foot in all the places and finally toppling down due to lack of balance. 

That kept me thinking, was my passion really writing? Or did I want to flaunt my skills to satisfy my ego? 

The question still remains unanswered. And Im searching within myself.

Another walk in the city – II

This is the second installment of the article titled Another walk in the city I. To read it, click HERE

A familiar sight greeted me once I entered the departmental store. Packets and packets of Lays, Cheetos, Piknik, Maggi noodles, Milkybars and Milk Bikis were neatly arranged in different shelves. To be honest, my craze for these “evergreen” (not in the true sense of the word) (laughs!) snack items had long gone with my transition to a responsible 20 year old man of the family. However, I always invoke the old saying “Old habits die hard” to my defence, to satisfy my ever voracious appetite once in every 2 weeks. So no guilt attached there.

Where was I again? Ah, the departmental store.

My dear mummy

I found myself often asking my friends and acquaintances:
"I guess you dont want to go back to college. You will miss your mom na?"

This poem will be the first Rhythmspeak of the blog, dedicated to all my fellow hostellers leaving home for their college lives. How many of them would've thought deeply about their lives, about their parents and how they are growing old? This poem (whose first para was a status update on FB exactly 2 months before this poem's release date) will definitely open some thoughts.


Twas worth all the fuss you made
after all the exams I wrote,


whatever cometh the result,
you will still love me
and I'm coming home to you.
Now I get down to watch your face

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 soon.....in 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,