My New Book

Friday, September 10, 2010

Baffling Technology...





technology unemployed!!!,Inept hands@ underfed technocrats

The button clumsy,the push failing to send signals,the display just about meeting the eyelenses,the communication competent but wayward.
Welcome to the utopia!!Welcome to the world without technology.

The time it takes for the signals from the radio waves to reach my handset,in the same time the technology is making the very thing it created obsolete.Technology sans settling time is like having a wine testing feast with your nose puckered and all botched up.Mind freaks out at the technique these technicians adopt for making the santa dance in 3-D and say ahoy! in HD.But When I reminisce about the days when the monster that is now the technology was just a toddler and we used to all happily wait for that postman to deliver us the breaking news instead of now slamming down the TV whenever we see these two farce words.Its like technology has overgrown within us.The shoots which we sowed outside now has its blight and canker within our now binded senses and is proliferating at freightning pace.
                          The slave master relationship now is in a brumous state and the effect of this dilution is slowly taking its toll on the thought process that seperates the bytes from the thoughts.We are already borrowing our thoughts from the techological marvels.TV gives us the language to speak,the glitterati to aim for and the morals to kill for.

              When the technology once employed to solve our problems becomes the recruiter itself and pours cold waters over our inquisitive fire,the need is to short circuit the connection we have with it.Outpacing technology can be boon to our underpaced and languid lifstyles which constantly demand gratification but is a agent of destruction for people like me who fail to keep pace.The distribution of knowledge of how to use technology across several hundred minds disallows the birth of a genius.Today what is seen a phlegmatic choice is a commoner choice.Today the technology rules the decision making,so very unlike the yonder years wherein the suspicion and gamesmanship was rife.Actually I kinda liked the virgin thought process I had in the absence of technology.Now its like the information is not only power,its powerless.Every tom,dick and harry knows how to make a bomb.I enjoyed the effort of going through the piles of books to extract that information.Now its easy to know and easy to forget.Its like generation Z is missing on so much fun.
                            We humans also have a xenophobia that aliens with superior technology might come and rule over us,and we would be left with the leftovers.But the aliens maybe are hiding in the ineptness that has crept in our senses.The inept hands that know only three letters on the keyboard(CCP) and the anathema that is google are harbingers of the tough times ahead.Many a minds have been left tending to marshes by this omniscient raconteur who would mesmerise one with sea of information that shuts down your neutral and natural thought process and instead becomes the amalgamation of several rotten shefs who have already spoiled many broths.
                Look at the world around us.Everybody is going nuts at the latest gadgets and features technology is throwing at us.Why?Whatever these dot matrix`ed labs throw at us ,we are ready to swoon after that like a dog scurries wagging his tail aft his master.The features of the new age generation is the inertness of protest they have in their minds,blindly calling the encore by the tech-gurus.
Look at the state of apathy technology has taken us to.We hardly care about the lacuna that exists in the hearts,we dont inflict punitive actions against our most severest of crimes,we sit on the couch...waiting...for the AC to blow and cool our hog heads..But we forget the biggest technology that there is ...humanity and nature.
                  
Preserve the good and the evil shall catch the next bus to hell... 

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

My Hand At Poetry(2)...

1.Forest In The Backyard...


In the backyard of my home,
A forest lingered,its density unknown.
I wanted to visit it,my curiosity prone,
The attraction was too much,as in the morning light it shone.


In the backyard of my home,
A horse cart was lying,stooped like an inverted cone,
The horse somewhere in jungle,free from the tethered groan,
The hinning voice I heared,reflecting from the stock and stone.



In the backyard of my home,
A dark world of animals,an alien abode,
The strange sounds to the outsider are all a code,
The place where the angels fear to tread,is nothing but a natural dome.


In the backyard of my home,
There exists a world unknown,a forest of thorn,
Where I went one day,my bravest move since I was born,
A terrifying place I must say,not a place for children to roam.


In the backyard of my home,
I experienced a whole new world,beastly yes,
But atleast pure and unsoiled,free from the human mess,
I came back shaken but got a new home
  


2.Going Back...nostalgia.

Some Of Those Days.....

I used to go to play,
Soaking wet,the night nigh,
My beat soaring,my spirits high,
never I used to say nay....

Some Of Those Days.....

I was an innocent bystander,
The world to me was full of chocolates,
Sweet sweet,yummy fun,never worried about the count of my platelates,
Never I went asking the fill to the bartender....

Some Of Those Days.....

I used to go to school,
Dressed all white,a little angel,
Bag too heavy,knowledge was hard to untangle,
Never I worried about being a fool.

Some Of Those Days.....

I used to laugh alot,
Joy no bounds,playful instincts galored,
Teeth bared,I dilligently said Oh! lord!!
Never I backbited & said what!!!?

Some Of Those Days.....

I used to run along unabated,
Time was never a factor,wasted alot!
Never know what`s going on,lost the plot!
Legs hurt,arms paining,spirit not jaded.

Some Of Those Days.....

I used to dream of god,
My eyelids closed,sleep overcame me.
Always I woke up to the rustling tree,
To right and righteousness,I always gave a nod.

But Now.............

Several years gone! My thoughts barely a reverberation.
I am proud of my life.
It calls for a celebration.


3.Lacuna 


A lacuna lingers,
A symbiotic festers,
All relevance shimmers,
Yet the mirage never appears.

A lacuna lingers,
My thoughts banters,
A fire cinders,
Not all thomases though are doubters.

A lacuna lingers,
geography splinters,
Psyche murders,
I allay my fears.

A lacuna lingers,
My heart sings prayers,
Not a light,all nighters,
Seldom I caress some hairs.

A lacuna lingers,
A commong thread hangers,
Surmise the usurpers,
Never the evidence loiters.

A lacuna lingers,
Border lights twinkers,
The freedom  blinkers,
The white horse tethers.

A lacuna lingers,
Hang atop the bearers,
The truth now in jitters,
Right to the left of the jesters.

A lacuna lingers..........


4.Coincidence........


Shining thru the cavern of ignorance,
My conscience gave me a cognizance,
Of the world that seemed void of clairvoyance.
The engines running along,fine but jaded with impugnance.

I know it all now,Yes sir! in all its resplendence,
Not severed! Not shunned, I am in acceptance.
Of the inert world order,but in abeyance.
How do I resist it,you ask,very well!, hear out the story of my patience.

The first hour I screamed ,second I cried,Third I stamped my feet in resonance,
Fourth I wiped my tears off sleeves,Fifth I pasted a smile of crocodile on my countenance.
What was left for me to do was to laugh which I did,albeit jest was never in it, not even in semblence.

I looked at my visage,made up,patched up,
now looking well fed & nurtured ,I conformed in a quick askance.

Now I imploded a world ,entirely different from the one I am bound in,all in ignorance!
In this world of mine,I choose to be a pauper,as no one is there to ridicule my despondence.
Never again I had to scour for a utopia,For I created one in me ,sheer oblivience.

Static I was ,Mobile I became,
Stagnant I was,fluid I became,
The silver lining? without any influence.

Coincidence?????



5. Seven Days of Nightmare.....


Come MONDAY & I wake up to work!
This is the day I resent and sulk!
The face of my boss,filled with smirk!
His expectation self evident,silently calling me a dork!

Come TUESDAY ,I get my spirit back!
When I look at the accolades prized in my rack!
Precisely then my luck runs out,& gets in my face with a smack!
Thought the end was bad,its afterall a two legged stork!

Come WEDNESDAY & my engines are revving & on track!
I see light at the tunnel-end,though it is still still and dark!
I work like a horse,not like a dog with no bite just a bark!
Third day of week,I completed with a hoot that was meek!

Come THURSDAY & I shout mayday! I need a spark!
Its all dull,Its all pointless,the ignominy stark!
The monotony`s all devouring,like a great white shark!
Last day of the formals,last day of the bottle with a cork!

Come FRIDAY & I was deep ino muck!
MY boss was after me ,running with a pointed fork!
I decided enough was enough,I let my papers honk!
Finally out of the captivity,the pig was spared the pork!

Come SATURDAY & I was happy as a lark!
Finally I never have to worry about any more or no perk!
Free bird I was now ,I sauntered in the park!
With autumn coming nigh,I sat by the tree`s bark!

Come SUNDAY & I reveled in the uncontrolled torque!
I no longer was called an ubiquitous jerk!
I didn`t worry about the girl,I gave upon the merck!
Salvation beackoned me,light finally won over the dark!!!

From the visage of my helmet,I saw....

From the Visage of my helmet....

Donning the biker`s gloves I purchased yesterday was the the last thing I did before yanking my thumb on the electric start button of my monster of a bike.
The engine cheerfully roared to life and soon I was feeling the hum,drum and the throb of the 2 pistons working extra hard to catch that escaping droplet of "oil from the rocks".But I was more excited by the input I received from the 2 roving sensory organs placed in the 2 hollow sockets lying on the either side of the bridge of my nose.Soon as I was scootering across the asphalt smeared roads,I saw many things.some of them made me jump from the reclined seat of my cruiser bike.Difficult to account,but here`s what I must have seen....

From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"A school bus"

Yellow coloured bus,pasted with warning signs.with toddlers aboard,it was merrily going along a vector.All children in grey and green school uniforms were looking like a jewish group in nazi trucks about to be gassed at aushwitz.Understandably so,as it was only 7 am in the morning.They must have been up since 5.30 am.So much so for learning few letters.Phew!I felt pity for these little younglings & felt elated on being free from study.Although in a corner of my heart,I rue not being on the bus myself and trudging that last mile to school with an all hunched back as the schoolbag took its weigh-toll on me.Sigh!I zoomed ahead leaving the childern to their share of bliss.

From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"A family"

Sleeping under an under construction flyover.
I just had a glance.I raced past the construction site.But that one look made me search my soul.The family of five was still in their dreams.Their faces were worn out by their travails of yesterday and they were completely streched out as if the body was bereft of the soul.Not a single muscle moved.The pose of the sleeping persons as if freezed in time and space.The 3 children,cuddled up in their mother`s embrace,maybe still hungry,father and mother looked battered,they looked like nursing their muscles and sleeping sans the worry of a hard day ahead.They were drawing peace and exuding serenity.In the unlikeliest of conditions.
God bless them...I carried on ...


From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

" A policeman"

Sleeping in his van.
In complete constrast to the work strewn worker family,the police 24*7 assistance van was aboard 3 police personnel,all slumbering and snoring in their lazy sleep.The emergency beeper turned off,the policemen it seems were on a important manhunt albeit in their dreams.The head inspector was donning his cap if anyone comes to inquire about the laxity on display,atleast their head is covered from the ignominy leave aside protecting the headless common man anyway.The readiness of our forces left me appalled.Protesting silently as we all do,I moved away from the forgetful scene.Just questioning myself,Had I been a cop, would I even be wearing that cap ? Maybe Not !..
....I motored on ...



From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

" A cartpusher"

Dragging on the cart full..

Our speed differential was tantamount to the concord-chopper speed difference.His flexing muscles,matted hair,grime smeared shirt and a seemingly war battered chappals,the force of friction that the four tyres of the cart offer against the ground forcing him to arch his back to push the overladen cart.
 The unnamed cart puller was barely looking askance.The round trips would earn him more.This world,I thought naturally blocks all other external sounds ,all other ambitions,thoughts,glutton,events from his brain which pales in comparison to the effort his body puts in.Just one brain wave..push the damn thing ahead.Unfathomably,our world where emotions are abundant,it still caters to these hercules of old.But I thought as I was going past him,When he`ll reach his destiny? Maybe never,For he is trapped in an infinite loop.But in hindsight...Aren`t we all ?

Vroooom....



From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

" A signal begger children"

Dragging on ...

It was that kind of morning.Depressing!! Not a single happy person I saw on road.And the next person I saw was even worse,someone straight from the devil`s nation himself.But he was a child.On a crutch!! Amputed!!! Naturally of forcefully, I don`t know.Only thing I could sense was that he was begging.For salvation maybe,for deliverance maybe..but he was begging.A steel bowl in one hand.On the signal,scores of them,are always there.An eyesore! a burden on my eyes I can`t explain.Sleeping in threadbare clothes,selling ringlets,newspapers,rugs,balloons,begging in lieu of their disabled plight,they are like an incubus.
when it comes to unfortunate children & my inabliliy( at present) to make their fortunes touch the golddust( except for few pennies spared for them),I choose to run away..escape the pain...flee....



From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

" A political Logjam"

It was now 9 am in the morning.Not too early neither too late.The traffic was now in its full bloom.Office time,work time! Time crunch! Rat race begins for the day.The biggest rat of them all was now out of its hole,sqeaking,rattling its teeth,conniving,jostling for that cheesy treasure,smelling the spoils.But he is not alone.Other small rats are now doing the bidding for him,scourging for the next gunny bag to sink its teeth in.
       With this thought on having the first sight of the cavalcade of the open air jeeps that just shot past me ,I was still having blurry visuals in my eyes as flashes.The flags,the blaring notes of the loudspeaker,the fist pumping ,the flag waving ,the illegible slogan shouting..amidst all the din !!!
     It was a political logjam.The supporters of the local candidate were all boarded up in the open air jeep,trying to imbue the minds of the commoners with the insignia of their ingnominy.Nothing wrong in that !But somehow their conspicuous presence makes me puke.
Holding my crap inside,I moved ahead....



From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"pertol pumpman"

Dhrrr..dhrrr...Dhrrr..

But it won`t go.The bike & the biker stood standstill in the middle of the S curve.Some autopsy & the indicator panel showed me that we have run out of gas.Believe me,Cartwheeling a 100 kg bike is no boy`s task.
            The sun was out now in its full as if it was waiting to char me whenever I became most vulnerable.Gas station which I reached after panting my way for about 2-3 Km was looking deserted.I was aghast!Still cluthing at my side-stitches,I fervently prayed for a humanoid.And here he was,all dressed in blue and red.I looked at him as I was removing the last drop of sweat that had found its way in my eye.He looked happy,almost chuckling at some thought.I smiled back,which he gracefully returned.I didn`t ask him,but he started telling me as an eager pupil answers the unquestioned to the teacher for brownie points. He told me about the petrol pumps strike from tomorrow,the decision just came and presumably according to him I should be proud of receiving this news from the horse`s mouth.This meant,he told me that it would be possible for him to go to home.
Whoaa!!! his chirpish happiness would make several people cry tomorrow onwards,I thought.Neways ,hiding my grimace in a grin,I told him blankly "100 Rs".The nozzle throbbed from the speeding fuel as the indicator went back to his green rest,leaving the pump man to his utopia.I started to kick my bike and I suddenly thought shouldnt I fill more petrol and as I took a start to go back,I realised that I was groping for cash both in wallet and in my card.
Bad Luck!!



From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"A teacher"

She looked like one.I think she was a teacher.The lady at the bus stop reminded me of my school teachers.The serene attire that was a saree,the disciplined look in the eyes,the glasses perched atop the nose bridge,a bag with school papers in them,she looked every bit of those good old madams.And I involuntarily greeted her.She kindled into a warm smile.Maybe she saw the child in me.
That made my day.


From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"A milkman"

I always wondered how the heavy milk cans were managed by the milkman atop a bicycle.These days such sights are such a luxury in metros and big cities where the milkmen have given way to packed milk.But I got hold of a rarity.A burly milkman with bushes for a moustache was floating atop his curvaceous seat in a oscillating fashion,and as my eyes recall,two big steel cans full of milk( or maybe water+milk or maybe just water !!)lolling by the side.As the Clunk of the chain hitting the cycle saddle became a rythem,I realised that he was singing along with the sound.Trying to listen to his deep grunted cockcrow song,I almost overbalanced myself.The man looked at me and tried to disapprovingly told me to ride safe.
I thought I should leave the balancing act to him and took a right turn.


From the visage of my helmet,I saw- 

" two lovers"

A park raced past and there were two lovers sitting on the bench.Hands wound as if it were a handcuff,they looked lost.And I got lost too.Remniscing love is like a slow poison.I replaced the boy`s face  with mine as I inadvertantly and rudely stared at the couple.Not noticing me,they kept to themselves.
My heart warm from the fumes of love-soup,I started my own preparations to disembark.
Home was near...


From the visage of my helmet,I saw-

"A hero"

Suddenly the most vivid image,the most moving picture was played in my 6/6 clear vision.The hero! The one who gave something very dear to him to someone else.I watched in awe as a dog,pale as a dog (fitting proverb) eating a bread like thing saw a dying sparrow on the road.The dog`s natural instict was to race to the dying little thing and devour it.But it didn`t.It went to the sparrow,smelled it,and just as I was turning my face away thinking that he is going to eat it,he ran back and brought the bread like thing to the dying bird.
Nothing mattered afterwards.Not if the bird ate the thing or not,not if the bird lived after that or not,what mattered was the energy that was in the air.
The energy of being good.....

And at the end of my journey,I was not alone.I brought wings to my life.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Silly Polly..


Politicking: a mindless jambooree ,a circus with only jokers.




The ringmaster is womanhandled.The queen bee is there to do a flip.The acrobats are the people`s representatives who very gracefully shift their loyalties from one pole to other.The fillers are the no confidence and other motions(except loose!) wherein the fun part is seeing a new face pasted on the countenance of some of the most pro people of the faronade.The main act tough is the balance act of the ballot.Audience in gasps,waiting eagerly for the star performer to reveal its hidden visage ,they are the ones who have overpaid for this.The trickery in the stunts well hidden almost pales in comparison to the inordinate wealth ammassed.The elephant`s grass being consumed in a scam,it refuses to do a samba.The lion`s share of the meat already being served on the plate of a circus beaureaucrat,is restless in its cage of rules and diktats and just grinding its teeth for the oppurtune time.
                       
The lawlessness rife,the insensitiveness a part of it,the circus is a mocking grave for those pitiful animals who do bidding for their masters with honesty and almost a painful reluctance.But they dont have the claws to fight their grass/meat/bread givers(or eaters!!).But a time will come.
The fight over water stream between the trainers leads to a chaotic situation in the assembly where the prima donna makes peace by having a cake being handed out to both,water completely absent from the discourse.
   The freedom of speech of the performers gagged,they pay for their opinions(tweets or otherwise).The circus being officially hailed as a saving grace for these jungleless beasts,they are pinned down for not being human(read leaders).
                        The weapons to have the audience enthralled are brought on a premium,the deals clandestine,the paychecks exchanged under the furniture,corruption is the one thing that dosent have a fixed tenure for a career in this carnival.Sixty years old but still reeling from unprofessionalism ,this circus pains the exchequer where it hurts him the most.
                   When the acts get old,the acrobatism and athletism no longer a favourite among the ever demanding crowd,the new acts are brought in a jiffy.The rodeos start flapping their red towels,the bulls with shining horns and venom exhaling flared nostrils on a  rampage.The only problem is,in quest to save the show,the risk taken exceeds with every move.The audience`s life on the line,with the bull mistaking the arena for the close lanes of spain,things start to get nasty.The blood that was being shed of the animals now takes the  bluish tinge of the blue blood of the blue collared gentry who pay their way to the grand stands.
            What is the role of the jokers in the entire farce?They make us cry.Facade of the humour inducing paints and grotesquely done features does little to hide their snide little faces eating away into our psyche and thought process.They lead the herds.They carry out the pogroms.And the worse part is,they cant be identified,they are part of the crowd, all jokers! Their jokes joke the bonding between the amiably living animals,they with their humour dril through the lawfulness of the jungle.They come when the animals are united and are readying for an upheaval,for a rebellion.They reduce the unity to shambles by having blood and gore smeared all over the paper of the joint pact.Life miserable,future uncertain,responsibilities bricks on the shoulder,they succumb to the ruse.Again they find themselves entwined in system.Again doing the rolls on the slight whiplash of their masters,again displaying their fake ferocity,again dancing to the tunes of the horror overtures.
                           with the rerun of the age old cynicism in the nearby theatre,the innocent flock to distaste the ongoing charade.The emotions of being led and being fed in furnace arent too distinct.Everyone wants to be the captain of their soul.And thats where this circus draws its power from.It promises freedom.Freedom from our mundane lives,freedom from the incoming mondays,freedom from the ineviable distress.But it does a hoop-a-la instead.It borrows your peace of mind to make sure that you are tethered even more.It binds you in the process of promising freedom,the only catch is :it itself can never be free or for that matter of fact,fair!
                     Many promise,several giveaways.The show boasts of its power to usher a change.Its consistency in beguiling the gullible deserves a devils snare for a tiara.The audience vote.Every applause is a vote,every jeer a rejection.But the mirage survives.The head of the snake may mutate and metamorphosize itself to different faces,the venom is always lethal and the grip always suffocating.The venom tastes like a heavenly drink save for the internal thorns emanating from its passage down the oesophagus.
                 To make the entire circus machine running it requires the oil of innocent animals aka unsuspecting participants,as well as blood of those performers who inadvertantly shell out their crimson fluid in line for their masters.The winners are only those who are perched at the top,observing and savouring the commotion of the commonplace.The bouquets often in the form of garlands worth several crores are honoured upon the neck of those who throw bricks in return.Such is the state of apathy,such is the circus of politicking.

I wait for that leviathan.I wait for that gigantic bird which will soar away with its pinions into the uninhibited skies.I wait for that revolution.I wait for that day when the circus will be remembered in the annuls of the legends and when the shackeled freedom will be just a misnomer.
           

Random Musings...