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.