Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Happy song for a sad Fish

If you would throw your boots at chemistry we could walk away in to the Sea.

When stars stare on the sly, and wink.
To marvel, that They would know a million year ago
We'd be here. To Think!
To think, that They would wink just in Time.
For us to see.

I wouldn't tell you sweet things to hold on to
But I'd sing a song so Blue
And play the notes, ever so softly
Blacks on whites would flow.
Like you will never know.

The waves would wash away the tune.
And sing it to a sad fish.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Egg Rolls

It's not there.
It only shimmers and glistens when you get close.
Only light gets through. You have to be fast. To be allowed.
Other things just stun themselves against it. Like flies.
Then they will make a buzzing noise and spin around in eccentric circles on the floor.
Flies. Eccentric flies.
You press your nose against it. And stand right there.
Pastries. Cookies. Rum-balls. Tarts. Mustard sauce on grilled toasts. Mayonnaise to go with it.
When you are hungry and tired you just run across the street and order an egg roll.
Egg Rolls. Extra sauce. For no extra money.
Even Eggs Roll.
A Rolling Egg gathers no Sauce.
Tell you what? It doesn't have an option.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Lonestar, where are you, out tonight?
This feeling I'm trying to fight,
It's dark, and I think that I
Would give anything
For you to shine down on me...

Some general pointers in life( Five for now...still to come):-
  1. Never store Pickles in Aluminium vessels.
  2. Before you get out of your house, always switch off the lights. It's stupid to pay the electricity bill for people who you can't even see. Or who aren't really there.
  3. If you have to buy an umbrella, go for a large one. Preferably real.
  4. Cruise Liners are better options if you really want to travel. Paper boats won't really take you anywhere.
  5. Shine your shoes before you leave. So that they shine. Avoid looking at them all the time you are walking.

For all the love in the world, give me some lies. Some illusions I can use. I hate running around naked. And horny. All the time.

He will be here. In a year.(Wow, that rhymes perfectly!) Dum dum. Old man. Only, not in a caravan this time. I will be off. Before he does.

New Orleans. Blues, they say, is a woman. Tell you what, that pun hurt.(I would never admit, haha, there!) Like hell, it did!

Oh and before you go, kindly switch off the lights.(Down with filament bulbs, by the way.) And tell him, he won. And I won too. That he can keep the trophy. The trophy goes well with his cushions, I must admit.

I remember, when I was very young, we had this maths teacher in school. I was in nursery then. And we had to complete a certain number of small sums within a given stretch of time. What happened is, I could not finish them in time. I was so afraid and helpless I started crying. I can't tell you how scared I was. The teacher, she came up to me, put her hands in my hair and told me that it didn't really matter. That she would give me extra time. Or even an easier sum. I can't tell you how relieved and overwhelmed I was! I figured that she loved me. A lot. So I went home happy. She gave a me a strip of stone stickers too. I have one still. A star. Blue coloured. In one of my books. It has lost its shine. But it is the star nonetheless. My first gift of love.

Gosh! It's late already. I must sleep now.

Tell me your tale
Was your journey far too long?

Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer
To a question I can't ask
I don't know which way the feather falls
Or if i should blow it to the left

All the voices that are spinnin' around me
Trying to tell me what to say
Can I fly right behind you
And you can take me away

Yellow Ocher

Trina had a hard time framing this picture from across the street. A narrow para gully. Four people standing in a row. She is a greenhorn. Point taken. Still. It's hard.

The bags were packed. The steel flute with its tidy little case. The voice. The smile. The glitter in the eye. All packed up. No Gladstones.

Time is a reckless, rude bike-guy. With long hair. Earrings. Sunglasses. I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. I will ride over you;what do you know, sonny!

Next year framing pictures will be easier. The year after, only yellow ocher.

You will be missed. All the Best.

Someday, we will stand there together. Like we did. Like we thought we would. Always.


Thursday, July 12, 2007

Ha ha!

You are The Sun

Happiness, Content, Joy.

The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.

Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.

The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

It isn't that hard, now that I come to think of it. Just some minor replacements in pronouns. And a somewhat tedious task of making the verbs agree with the subject(or its new found 'singular'ity). Besides they were never really plural. Only in my mind. Only in my thoughts. Thankfully, I won't have to replace real 'we's and 'us'es. Only hopes of them.

Every night they lose at poker to older
men, who know what to do with their faces.

Life without hopes of a hope is slightly fluffy. And heady. Somewhat like wading through knee deep water with your eyes closed and ears open. To the Big City Noises. If you are reading this now, you probably think I am sad or depressed or even frustrated. Believe me when I say I am not. I am only barely conscious of a reality that does not feel anything like it. You know what I mean? Suppose I played something really corny( which I do anyway) and got a call to the Grammys. And when I go to collect my prize Norah Jones walks up to me and says-I adore you for your musical genius! And before I am out of the daze I get a call from the Nobel academy saying I got the Nobel prize this year for my outstanding innovations in the field of Solid State Physics. This is followed by two years of tours, lectures, felicitations...and that feeling within, that I deserve none of this. That I ought not to have gone through all this. That feeling of wanting to scream. Thinking to yourself if you didn't really deserve a normal life.

I crave for a life with gifts for your goodness. And punishments for your mistakes. Proper punishments.

" We'll have our own house," Ammu said.
" A little house," Rahel said.
"And in our school we'll have classrooms and blackboards," Estha said.
"And chalk."
"And real teachers teaching."
"And proper punishments," Rahel said.

This was the stuff their dreams were made of. On the day Estha was Returned. Chalk. Blackboards. Proper punishments.

They didn't ask to be let off lightly. They only asked for punishments that fitted their crimes. Not ones you spent your whole life in, wondering through its maze of shelves.

Lights on the ceiling.
Every inch of it.
On the walls.
On the floor.

I am not much seen. You would easily mistake me for my surroundings. Or the other way round. I am very fluid. I am a lot of things I was. And a lot of things I never will be. I will get into your head. Through your ears. Like an air horn. Your nostrils. Like a dark syrup. Your eyes. Like a bad dream.

The chameleon on the window vanished
without seeming to move. So are we
looking through the chameleon now
as we gaze across the pasture?

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

The blue tint of the room is obscene
As are the happy-thoughts
That swarm inside my head
It's only the sickle of the moon
That cuts the chord
And sets the star free
To fall through the darkness
Old dreams lie sleepless
Look at me, and i will tell you why.

Some thoughts are just so happy. They are like under-nourished suburban mastaans with inflated impressions of themselves. They flex muscles. Wear cheap glasses. Dirty yellow T-shirt(the only good one they own) with weirdly fitted trousers( Hip-hugging. Bell-bottoms. With sliver chains). They lean against walls and stand. Just stand. Like that.

Then there are other thoughts. Well-framed. Decent. Crew cut. Well-bred. They have purses well shoved with Plastic cards. All kinds. They wear clear glasses. Striped shirt. Sober jeans. Boot cut.

The fun begins when the suburb guy takes the train to the city. But I am in no mood to be funny right now. So I will not talk about them. I will talk about the beef biryani I had instead. It was so wonderful.This shop. Man I love cows!

I feel weird. Mostly because I don't feel anything at all. So technically, I don't even feel weird. I can't.