life is filled with mirrors, which serve to reflect different facets of self...its only at times, that we are arrested or pulled towards these mirrors, to stand and take a good deep look at ourselves. Most of the time we fail to see the reflection, and rush by...some people, some instances, some occurences, reflect a shade or a hidden dormant part of us, and we are filled with awe and wonder, for we'd ceased believing that these trinkets lay hidden, deep within; to be aroused and spring alive, requires those magical moments and triggers. what is life if not for these surprise triggers, which come in unimaginable and unfathomable forms....!

ve been listening to 'hotel california' and being drawn into the realms of yesteryears n what a mesmirising voice and the haunting music.....and wow....'you can check out any time, but you can never leave'.....the innumerable instances when you've felt exactly this way, be it memory or a person..its just that we the unfortunate few, who find it so hard to let go....clingers we are.....refuse to part (with)....

Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deeply.
Let it ferment and season you.
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

-Hafez, poet (1315-1390)

So you feel hurt when your (once-upon-a-time) little ones hurt you; you think you have to show them you are hurt; try to remain aloof, cut-off and put up a silent front; not sure if it has registered at all, the effort the display of cold-shoulderness; if it has made any dent at all. Then the gnawing starts, bah things arent fun, when youre on your own. Thoughts arent as buoyant, things arent the same, even close to being the same, as when its shared with your brood!!
Frightening the thought that rushes in, theyre going to be missed bad; when the fledgings leave home for distnat shores! and along with it, a premonition sorts, for the onslaught of pain that would arise from sheer callousness and give-a-damn-attitude that is to be thrown at will, in the coming years!! God help me, through the turbulent teens!! May peace prevail!!

And then ofcourse there is the flip side!!....

..

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

Dissection

Is it always an illusion? We see what we want to see, feel what we like to feel?? Is it always a projected image completely based on our dreams and imagination?? Or maybe we tend to overlook the parts which are not in accordance to our 'taste' and allow ourselves to be overpowered by the parts which do 'appeal' to us. A thin fragile base on which we build edifices, castles on clouds or so to say. And when these wafer thin elements break, find ourselves without a footing. when everything vapourises, into nothing, leaving behind a huge vacuum with the bellowing silence, it is unnerving, to say the least. The part of you with parts of 'whatever it was' remains restless, athirst for what was, even if it be a trickling drop. This again is sheer imagery? The dull throbing 'whatever' makes one think otherwise.

Love Aaj Kal

yes happened to watch the movie, and well was surprised, the way it turned out to be! Didnt realize that it was a product of a popular director, who had sort of let-down his fans, with this 'mediocre stuff'. ('Kaminey' was a bit of a let-down which ofcourse is just my opinion) So expecting nothing, had a slow gently-moving film, excluding those brash, loud song sequences. Coming to the crux of my thoughts, the scene where both saif and deepika have these 'seizures'; seized by this compulsion to reach out, meet, talk, just make that connection. So people who cant fly miles(or catch a train!), take a ride in the countryside, barge doors, deliver speeches what do you do??? When we can not do it the cinematic way, it boils down to, the feeling not being strong/good/valid enough???

For the parched desert,
the showers were a blessing.
as the drops trickled in,
life seemed to course through.

Being denied brutally of what
had been assumed to be perenial.
Something deep inside snuffed out,
With a dismissal not unfirmly done.

what if

what if i...
does it help, if i do?
changes anything?
jus for that skip?
for the rush, do i play?
is it play? cold play
never knew how to.
as with adieu.

Footprints on sand
Rustled Autumn leaves
Stirred currents
whispered nothings

As years slide by
and moments glide by
wheels of change
chugs along to
the change of gears.

A pleasant ride
A lovely journey
Dreams and wishes
sure to turn true.

why does it hurt so
why not just let go

if it isnt there
why do i care?

tell my heart to stop
not to cringe and mop

seems to beat on its own
to a tune long written by anon

pull a smile onto my lips
shut the door to one-way trips.

DEV D- caught it, a few days back, and hit me like a bolt. Fell absolutely in love with it! Somehow got sucked into the vortex, and the experience was awesome. Not able to pin point when, where or how!! Well the sensual makeup of the entire movie, the lazy drawl it held on to, interspersed with some scintillating scenes and potrayals, made for a great mesmirizing watch.

Duskish

Lethargic, Listless
Wane, weary
melancholic, morbid
dormant, detached
sombre, somnolent
resigned, reticent
alienated,aged?

The twist of irony that shapes the lives of few...where do they draw their strengths from, and for how long...the bleakness of it all, does it hit them every morning, as the rays lit the skies, and each night as they close their lids, heavy and weighed down? What is that keeps them trudging along, traverse the narrow lanes, and the endless bridges to be crossed; My heart goes out to these few, with whom you have a dear relationship, but, can really do nothing much; other than being around whenever, whatever.

Was so hurt at the horrendous display of the men in blue. There has been responses - seething, scathing and diplomatic from the millions who had misplaced their faith so badly on the 11 out there; to lift the nation's pride on their shoudlers or just play plain passionate cricket. What a sham!!

Moments are made up of these....

so when the question popped out as, where YOUR heart is? was stumped for a while, though came back with some vague, long winding answer, wasn't convinced. Later gave thought to it, and musing over it through the days, realised, the heart is where it thumps loud and clear! Things that arouse you, make you feel all alive, blessed to be alive, things that makes a smile linger on your face, for a while, things that bring up a lump in your throat, things that make your eyes brim with shed or unshed tears, things that bring a song to your lips; and the things, at times might, just might, happen to be 'people'!

Watching Gilchrist blistering away and marvelling at the newcomers' splendid work with the bat and ball, was such a lovely moment; more so cause, havent actually got down to watch any of the 59 said matches. So it was like being back amidst old friends, the familiar joy, excitement, anger, frustration, the thrill the bliss! And couple of days back, listening to snatches of an old song(not so popular) on the radio, song from my teen years, and words tumbling out from the recesses of my brain and the memories along with it was awesome, and mind-boggling! RAM is in pretty good shape, I guess! Was amazed again at something that happened, when it struck, as this is the moment, when this relationship takes on a new shade, or moves on to the next phase, like a flashing bolt, and led me to chew on, the famous 'you had me at hello' line! sigh! what a movie...!

thin ice

As she smiles and nods her head,
a pain seizes him, from nowhere.
what that holds them is a thread,
a beautiful tapestry gone all bare.

When did it all began, the crack
when did it widen so rapidly?
What should he do, to get it back,
The moments which swayed so vibrantly.

The indifference, the dig,
the sneer, the scheming ploy.
How it turned all so unnerving,
feelings in an awful turmoil.

As i watch him twinge and turn
Can all but shake my head.
There is still so much to learn
So much felt, so much dread, unsaid.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

Sea Journey

when a slight twinge knocks gently
dont be fooled.
you are in for a tumult,
that slowly morphs
into a roaring sea,
left on your own, all alone.

Caught in the eddies,
goin in circles, tossed
around by the waves,
flung and thrashed,
dunked and dazed,
search for a log;
cling on, for dear life,
the waves come afresh.

The land in sight?
ofcourse its the light,
the sun plays while you
float along the drowsy sea.
skin tanned, mind benumbed,
a vacum filled buoying journey.

Time can never mend...

Its just that at times a void, a hole, a small one, refuses to be filled. its not a gaping hole, nor does it gnaw all day long; it does gnaw, it does haunt me. Times when it hits me, that a tiny part of me is lost. Meaning of words, songs, scenes, moments appear thwarted or remain remotely distant.

This is just an attempt at some juggling and something else too. A small stroll into lanes ive been away from, for some time now..its plagarism alright, but these are words that keep me company, and seem to have urged me, prodded me into doing this mish-mash stuff!

all i ever wanted..
was always obscure;
mebe hoping i would hear the words
you are so beautiful to me.

but then how could you be so heartless?
if i were a boy, could've done
a zillion things..

yes i did say you'll never see me again
guess i wasn't counting on the teardrops on my guitar.
nor aceept that it haunted me all the way home.

wherever you go
i'll always know
but its time to face the truth
and stay on being mute.

Solitude

moments we sometimes steal,
and relish and treasure;
an exposure to what we feel,
be it sheer pain or pleasure.

moments we happen to stumble upon
revealing a wide myriad of thoughts;
edging us to reflect, but move on
while unraveling life's, jumbled knots.

for some, the call comes often,
for many, it is never heard.
through the years it may lessen,
when you mind is safely fettered.

So the serpent dance, seems to be drawing to a close, or so I would like to think; the two headed one. I m not a Geminian for sure, but twin avatars entwined as one, I sure am. Or hoping to make it a ‘was’.

There is this sane, mature, ‘regular’ me who seems to be mellowing down with age, gracefully, the mind being more tuned to things, which are calming, which has more depth, things which make you both change or accept your ancestry, your beliefs , your self-procured knowledge about the world at large, and your own limitations, qualifications and reinstating the stance of, where I stand in the overall equation of things.

And then ofcourse there is this other part, the more sinister one, the more effervescent one, the more volatile one; the one over which I have not, much control, and at many instants of time, didn’t want to !! But now, I would think the game is over, the coins are to go back into their boxes, and the board closed shut. Keeping the lid shut, might work in snuffing out the serpentine form, from raising its hood, ever so often. Will it work in silencing the haunting sweet notes that seem to drift in from nowhere, making me dance to its tune, with abandon? Will it make the words that seem to rule my senses, vanish, and be banished away to a distant land? Will it still my restless soul, plagued by a dull throbbing ache, which seems to take ages, to fade away?

If it does, do I cease to be who I am? Atleast I would have a form, which does not play tricks, with my mind, heart and soul. A form which would be set, stable and cognizable; sans the allusions and delusions. A form which I better get used to; a ‘me’, I should begin to or try to, identify with more, and fasten myself to. As the snake sheds its coat, I assume at this point in my life, I rip off this second skin of mine, and slither into the maddening crowd. The coat that grows on me, with time, will tell…..

Hooded Girl...

Childhood trapped, gawd how it stifles,
Maidenhood lived and borne, behind veiled cells.

Eyes that seem, to probe and dare,
Speaks so much, with just a glare.

Innocence, wiped away and shredded.
Left with a weighing maturity, and dread.

If it is to shield and screen,
What is left to dream and preen?

The delicate neck, the quivering lips,
The flowing tresses, the swaying hips.

Concealed, are the thoughts- aborted;
Buried along with wishes- thwarted.

Childish whims, misty muses,
Dainty dreams n’ crazy fancies.

Curbed and Stowed away early,
You’re a mellowed woman, my girly.