My New Book

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Game Memory Plays...

Memry & My Mnd: Hw do I Rmeber the frgoten & ho I fogt the unfogetn

Zero sum game of my mind reaching out to a globule of my brain to brainpick the hidden brainwaves that have got lost amongst the stockpile of blabber and claptrap that not only is polluting the evirons in the neighbourhood of the soft matter beneath my hard skull but also are making my memory an unmemorable chimera is now down to its slog overs.

Just as I was seeking the lost information, a new plethora of bytes came knocking at the doors of the sentries of my nervous system. Already fuzzy and already overprocessed,the brain`s search engine returned results that would even put the erstwhile MSN to shame. That piece of information demanded by an extended agent is often harassed by the beaureaucracy that`s prevalent in the inner system gets house arrested & often is threatened by the goons of the inertia mafia.Flummoxed,flustered and deeply agitated, the mind puts the checks and balances in place to solve the murder mystery but ends up only getting hold of the good guys, letting the restrainers go free and puts the saviours under the shackles of mind cells Ala gauntamento.
          What I know of the last vow that I took upon? Has that promise been kept? Has that memory stayed in the forefront of my 6/6 vision? Or the moment was just for a moment and my memory just a shifting window that gives the vision of the incoming events and lets the already processed ones go by and rot in the marshes of my decaying mind?
            Right now I cant process whatever’s being said to me,that`s because the query isnt laden with constraints Aka "pin" that pinches the FIFO list of the information index & scourges the thing so solicited by the process. One thing though jumps out shock faced from the dark welled annuls of my ROM memory is that I can’t forget to forget that which is touted as being important.
  The purging of the read emails from my inbox sends them to trash. As new emails crowd the inbox, this process is quintessential to maintain the ACIDity of my memory database. But how come the trash automatically disembowels? Why cant the memory stop behaving like a leaky cauldron & instead have a parallel arrangement to catch the overflowing  viscous fluid ? On the first evidence it allows the froth to be manipulated by too many cooks it seems.
With the cloud computing now a revelation, I have begun to see a cloud clouding my brain too. A cloud of unwanted information, a cloud of unsolicited memories, a cloud of piercing, shrieking and cannibalising spectres of the past that haunt the very soul of other memories and scare them into obscurity. Maybe I need a Gmail account embedded in my memory to have the lost memories unfurled and laid bare to my sore eyes now puffy from the rolling they receive whenever a negative response they get from the brain whenever the Prof asks a question to me.

On second thoughts, I think I will ask Google…..They can do anything now ...maybe...just maybe I will remember what I initially wanted to write here someday ....Amen!!!       
Booming voice of the announcers blares over the imaginary microphone,"The brain in blue shorts, donning white gloves this side"... Cheers follow...hooting from the opposite camp..
"The memory in black shorts donning golden gloves that side"....Cheers follow...some catcalls from the audience...

           Since eternity, the match has been pushed to a no contest, stretched to countless rounds...a bloody affair..
with each player delting and pelting heavy blows to other and also receiving a body shot here and there. A upper left cut  here ...a jab in the ribs there ...a sliced forehand that just missed the eyebrows...a powerful punch to the jaw that seemed it took a splinter with it...a block that sent the shockwaves that hit the  perpetrator with double force..
        Each warrior iron clad….Each opponent bruised and battered...each wearing proudly glory cuts and bruises as if they are the war medals..But the truth is that they are struck in the arena…..They are tied to each other ,hinged to one another ..Otherwise both useless mercenaries.....

My Hand At Poetry ...(1)

Prose’s...verses....sonnets...don’t know what they are called...

1. Beautiful sunrise, awesome sunset;
  The nature played with me in jest;
  Mind rejuvenated after a well deserved rest;
  I could now see the beauty in the birds returning to their nest.

 Dark forces taking over the fortress of love;
 The pure lighted heart now hiding in an alcove;
 Mindless abyss, the world was now in a tow;
 I wondered who the hell started the row;
And then the dark knight comes with more seeds to sow;
I shudder at the prospect of having to show;
The skeletons of my closet now on my brow;
Still the light kindles in the heart, though slow;
I am hopeful that I’ll fight off the foe.

 Just as I was putting the bill through;
Her hands came and threatened to sue;
Our eyes locked as if in a truce;
My heart adding that needed spruce;
Our match finally then ended in a deuce.

My life comes about a complete circle;
It just can’t come up with a manacle;
The changes happening now are so subtle;
That I can’t decipher anything in the din and the clutter;
I might just have developed some jitters;
Alas, if only confidence building was a sitter;
Neways,now as I have joined twitter;
It bodes well for me as I aim to be fitter.

The trees wave their approval, the birds chirp their praise;
  The traveller comes forth again in less sunlight & in haze;
  Hair down, clothes shabby the unshaven body smelly;
  A lot of rest and non-hygiene was quite visible through the belly;

But the sojourn was on the run now;
The journey unabated, shoes hot on the soles, holy cow!!
The atmosphere not virulent, the zephyr bellowing through the heat, the traveller said WOW!!!
Quite an effort that not to succumb;
To the woes and the wombs of time;
But as the future promised, the pain was worth every penny and dime.

 Mind occupied by shenanigans;
 And eyes submerged by water from onions;
I trot away, I jog away, I fly away on my pinions;
To bolster the chances of being true;
I never give honesty a piece of my shoe;
Wonder why the world is in such a fix;
Clearly there’s something horribly wrong with the mix
Of the king and the pauper and of the food and the platter.

 sucked away in the vortex of my own blood;
I came out trying to grasp straws & at best a dud;
Night dawns dousing the fire within, so sad;
Coz I was just beginning to ignite the morning fad.

The poetic justice of hanging a poet dead;
Is always there even if tears are well-shed;
The majestic crooning of prose if properly read;
Can even bring back the mind from the useless field.

The plane takes off from the tarmac;
The Englishman opens up the coniac;
He soon will turn into an unruly maniac;
The air hostess won’t be able to clean the muck;
The cops turn up, putting the handcuff, aloud clunk;
He will rot in the cell for the time of a great chunk.

 I missed the details;
  Of what the beauty entails;
The enchanting show curtails;
The ability of world derails;
The train of thoughts that set sail.


  The last sonnet for today;
 Will describe story of my heyday;
 When I didn’t do work for gainsay;
 Till the point when I last had my say;
 It all happened in the month of May;
When a beautiful maid came my way;
I found on the road, there my heart lay;
I thought her hands smeared in clay;
The smell which I savoured being happy and gay;
Not knowing the imminent night flapping its wings;
What dawned next was a spate of dreams;
Where I was at last in the garden of screams;
The winged angel came with his bow and arrow;
To fill my heart with joy and relieve me of my sorrow;
Now I believe in the feeling called love;
For I have been sent to the heavens, removed from the trove.

 Lonely and unheard, forlorn and invisible;
I came out of shadows, still unbelievable;
The high that one gets in beating the odds;
Is like watching the forest perched atop.
Whatever I target to usurp;
Falls straight into my cusp;
But what I wish to achieve;
Never meet me, hard to believe.

The heat searing, the rays convergent;
The sun with its eyes wide open is a bad sergeant;
The green arms open side, the shadow a life saviour;
The trees provide respite, that’s model behaviour;
Water although in steams, quenches the thirst;
But only those who beat the mirage and reach their first;
Laid in the depths of the fallow land;
Is a diamond,uncut,yet shiny as a light strand;
The nature is both punishing and nurturing;
Follow the water, leave the diamond glittering.

Whenever I will come aboard the bus `ol wise;
I will forget my vices & have my best foot fad to rise;
Cometh the hour,cometh the man us the way they prise;
The confidence and integrity which sadly was in eternal demise.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Journey Immortalised in Space And Time...

I want to catch the train ...but alas the wheels just got off as i got in...

HAHAHAHHAHAHH...The sporadic laughter continues. The innuendo was incomprehensible to my greenhorn mind. After all I was a novice in the game and I was pitted against the trend setters. I didn’t mind the insult. I knew what it meant, that i was close to quirking the head of the legend. They knew of the fallacy. The plan was nowhere close to being unsurpassable. And maybe I have the key to the exit door. But the ordeal had to be beared. The pain was not something that could be bunked. Flying the coop from the coup-de-etat however strategically flawed will not be granted till the point of inflexion.
                     A blank call! A wrong no! A ticket without the station’s name imprinted, a journey undisclosed. But the clue was out there somewhere. Seeking my attention, the already irradiated marker would beep its radiance till I reach its hiding place and unfurl the secret scroll. A wonder journey calls for its green signal.
    Languishing deep within the set pieces, lay the organogram.The structure seemingly indestructible hides within its bodice the skeleton of its undoing. The jungle of the great bushes and beasts enchants. Luring me within its bowels, the hobo camp engulfs me into its high pitched call of the lemur, the bird scattering roar of the lion, the ground shaking elephant run. The similes that describe the beauty of the waylaying forest need to be imported from the abstract. But I am just a visitor here, a temporary traveller, a lonely wanderer, a vagrant! That’s probably the reason I am spared the sacrifice.Anyways as I went deep into the woods taken by the converging and diverging dust lanes I encountered the Tell-tale signs of a deep rooted mystery. As I picked up the portenders,they baffled me even more. It hypnotised me; it sucked me deep into the vortex of unimaginable possibilities. Maybe the nature has added on to the enigma. Maybe I am hallucinating.Maybe,just maybe that’s why I am on the right course.
                         The clues lead me to the congregating place. The incessant chatter is starting to eat into my patience quota. My coherence on the verge of extinction, the exhaustion paling the intelligence I crave for an aid. The shimmer of the light incident on my face told me to follow the bandwagon. The concourse without knowing did me a favour. It led me to the porta.The place although a tad too tight for my mind to enter; it consumed my weariness and offered me an escape to the final boarding place.
                   The happy hooting of the train’s steam vent set my pulse racing. The haunting cranking of the shanks satiated my dreamy fetishes. But as I was about to put my foot into the coach that bore the mark, the screech drew my attention. Notwithstanding of my instincts that told me to let the sufferers be devoured and escape unscathed, I too joined the tumult. Threw some down the drains, kisses few blows, stretched my tendrils, broke some knuckles and finally got aboard the caterpillar.
        The journey was itself a revelation. The blur that was the destination now clearing is now in its full bloom, showcasing the facade it was bearing. Slightly bemused by my presence its nerves jingling on its forehead, it never gave away its haughtiness laden demeanour. A respectful opponent, a formidable foe, the draped imposter wasn’t going to be a lonesome calf lost amongst the beasts. I was prepared for the worst, the sleeves full of underhand weapons; I was ready to strike that first blow. The battle ground now had a tinge of reddish about it. The foreclosure of the opponent’s luck had the tide in my favour.
             Shots fired after other...
 Just as I was about to succumb, my heart sent me a reminder dove. True to my procrastinating nature, I delayed the confrontation. Facing your nemesis in broad daylight and that too aft you have gone through so much to allay your pain is a pain in itself. The wheels of my patience finally left the strings they were tethered to and rolled on to another track. I was left. I protested the neglect. But my voice got reverberated back to my own eardrums. All were gone, the loneliness victorious, I cried! I moaned the loss!
I lamented the gain!
      All pieces in their right place, the riddle finally solved, I sat hunched.Sqatting,I contemplated my next thought wave. When will the circle come to its initial point? Is there anything as an initial point? Or we can very well start again? The same mindless search, the same madness all over again? Gyrating on my heels, my senses gone for a toss, I made my decision.

So what if the work is done...So what if the peace is ensured...
I will create the work...I will make the trouble...
                  Sitting on the opposite side of the canvas makes all the difference. Being a muse and being the artist are not like each other at all. A creator sets the ball rolling and the followers roll with it. Bemusing to me initially but as much as I was inclined to being a saviour I was now visibly more so in creating some. Putting the cart before the horse is something now I know. And I am drawing enough pleasure from it to rake the leaves of my sanctity and morality and throw them in the nearby stream. What! I am doing the world a favour. It needs heroes. The dearth was never of the spotless ones, the rare are the rotten ones. I am creating the reason. The ends to the means is more important. Self introspection lets you meet the other guy. The imposter within you surfaces and lifts that veil. A thief aright scoundrel nonetheless, he at least is the true master.
                           The disturbing images flying past, I sat cross legged. They have reached the fort Knox. They have gone past the traps and collated the clues. I feel fear for the first time since a long time. It is swooping down the entire length of my existence and making my victory look innocuous. Taking blows after blows, my reservations are finally generalised. I accept the licking. Now the ball and the racquet were in the other court. I could only stare in astonishment. I could only wait for the imminent. Seeing the dread fill the air I flee. Borrowing the wings, I flew on the currents of the incoming tempest.


       Later again I shall rise...
       That time a tad wise...
       If only I could surmise...
       The penalty and the prize...

Random Musings...