Sunday, March 22, 2009

Where I roam... - II

Every morning, I would follow the same routine. The same feeling of not knowing where I was, the same images of blades in my head and the same feeling of being back there. Back in the jungle. Home did not have anything left for me. My wife had taken the kids and left me, I had no friends in particular. Whatever I was, I was among the wet trees and the crawling vines. And sitting here, on my bed, staring at the ants crawling outside, I felt like an alien, like a trapped animal.

And so I waited, waited for a calling, waiting for someone to call me back in the jungle and get back to what I was best at doing. I picked up my bottle of vodka from the side table and sipped on it. That burning sensation in my throat lingered for a moment or two and then disappeared. I wondered what the animals must be doing now ? I started to lift my self from the bed and crouched down on to the floor. Like a cheetah, I waited, waited for the prey. I leaped up and sprang to grab it but it ran away. Disgusted at my failure, I stood up. Looked at myself in the mirror, I transformed my hand into the shape of the claw and then I teased it. The refelction teased me back, I moved backwards and so did he and then in an instant I pounced at him and hit him hard on his chest. He looked at me for a second and then broke into a million pieces. I was the master, I was the king. I was the killer.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Where I Roam...

I dedicate this post to a movie I once saw.

There it was, in my dreams again. The choppers blades cutting the air as its vibrations flooded my ears. The engine's hums lying in the back, it whirled in front of my eyes. Sitting in my uniform, waiting for the worst, I huddled up in a corner, sweating with the heat and sweating with fear. And then I opened them, my green hazel eyes.

And the choppers blades were right there, above me and I was right beneath them. Any second now, they could lash at me and cut me up. Splatter my blood all over the ground and leave me to rot there. Maybe I did want that, maybe I didn't. Maybe I was just dreaming again.

I looked at those blades again and now they were just those of an ordinary ceiling fan of a room in an ordinary hotel. But where was this hotel ?

In search for answers I lifted myself up from the bed and headed for the curtains. Pulling them apart, the light tore into the room as I squinted in hate. And then I saw it, Saigon.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009

i hav made an attempt to write about a character as was told in the last creative writing workshop..

“one more glass of wine,please”,says joe ,finding hard to push words from his mouth in subcounscious state. Having lost his persona in those glasses of wine, he is no more than a dry desert herb striving for more and more water. He is fed up from his mechanical and monotonous life in which his actual self is lost somewhere. His heavily paid job sucks his blood. Joe wakes in the morning when the clock ticks 6. The one thing for which he spends his whole day is the morning tea. Perhaps ,it is the only thing Mary shares with him lovingly. Else, the bridge of differences between them keep on widening and that too ,on the microscopic issues. In the office,his boss just suppresses him and his rare smile in heaps of daily assignments and he can’t protest. Taking refuge of the piles of aspirin ,the hands keep on moving till the clock ticks 8. Everyone goes and he too.. but his work never. Retiring from the pen and paper,he goes straight in the stress relieving zone. ”one glass ,please” and gradually, he loses his identity in that magic bottle which people may call doom but for him,it is a boon, a boon to his life not worth living...

Monday, March 9, 2009


Earthquake! Earthquake!
All in all, a mighty powerful shake.
That seems like an attempt by Nature,
To rearrange your furniture,
By Jove! Nature a zealous attempt doth make!

A man I know

In the dark voids of the cosmos, two stars sat talking. They wondered about each comet that passed them by and each star that had died and come to this universe. They talked of a couple of planets and even a few galaxies. But then one of them asked , " Why don't we look at something smaller?"

And then they looked, looked at a planet here and a couple of moons there. They saw happy faces and sad faces, they were proud and they were pitied. Some got lucky some got poor. And then they ventured on to planet Earth and spent some time searching for people. But they got the same share that was in other worlds, nothing too different, maybe a hand more and a an eye less. Was it all that this universe had to offer ?

But then they fixed their gaze on a different soul. Whose feelings and actions seemed a little too... vague. He was a question waiting to be answered and a form to be filled. He was a man that was known to me.

His mornings came with the sound of an alarm, that would ring twice and then let him do the rest. If his will wished, he would rise to greet the day. But he was usually seen lying on his drool till midday. But when his feet touched the ground, the gravity from Earth pulled him to the loo in a flash. Grabbing his morning paper, he marched to the cubicles and would always pray and hope to find his spot vacant. Solving word puzzles and skimming over comic strips, his world of 1 X 2 X 1 was his only sanctuary of peace and serenity.

The stars liked this soul for he did not burden them with joys or hopes or fears. He just lightened all that and brought a little smile to the face. For this was the curious case of a man who wasn't too busy with his friends or families or worries. He was too busy figuring out himself. Day after day after day.

It was time for the sun to rise now and the stars decided to rest for the day. Tomorrow they will return to see this man again and just in case they don't come tomorrow, well let's just hope they do.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


I have this habit, long denied
Of turning red and rushing to hide
When caught red-handed, or unawares
With boy, with book or when tumbling down stairs

I hid from friends when I was out "with a boy"
I ran behind a tree to hide
Later, I hit myself repeatedly on the head
When the funny comments turned snide :(

I hid when mommy caught me peeking
Into Big sis's grown up book
Often hid and stalked my childhood friend:
I had a massive crush on his flashy look

I hid when Silvia burst into the room
When I was unfit for company
I hid when I was caught wearing white
On a rainy day that had started out sunny ;)

I hid when I saw the knowing look
Pasted on my teacher's face
When she saw me sharing a cosy lunch
With a boy. I ran as if in a race!

I hid under a bridge when my mommy's friend
Spied me out for a walk one eve
I hid until she turned the corner
Then hurriedly took my leave :P

I hid my gaze from his, right after
I 'fessed up how I felt
I'm sorry for the way I keep behaving!
So many things wrongly dealt (with).

I tried to hide when I fell in love--
But only succeeded in turning blue
I wriggled and squirmed and ducked and blushed
But, I failed at hiding from you :)

Her mommy saw me gape, and duck
Out of sight, in someone's car
Another time I pretend I was someone else
And I prayed they couldn't recognize me from afar!

I'm never up to any good, it seems
I beg to disagree!
It's just a funny freaky thing that I do
It's just a quirk of being Me!

I'm out, about, in perfect innocence
A familiar face makes me flee
I'd crawl under a rock if I would fit
Or beg you to just, HIDE me!

I look away from your knowing eyes
I clamp the smile on my lips
I sober my crinkles and straighten my back
And await your naughty quips

It takes three seconds before I lose my hold
I blush, flush, reluctantly break pretence
I'm giggling and hiccuping, my eyes are tearing
But you refuse to abate your wicked comments

I'm going to stop these silly games,
I tell myself solemnly
I'll be all grown up, and own up, make amends
I won't hide away so sillily.

But the next expose happens, and lo, you'll see
I'll be scrambling for cover yet!
I'll beat a retreat, while you chuckle and wonder
When I'll put up such a big show next!

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

This poem was nominated by UN as the best poem of 2008,
Written by an African Kid.

When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray

And you calling me colored?