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.

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.
           

Never Mind...

The choice is yours !!!

When I got up late in the night,I was profusely sweating.Mind numb,senses gone for a toss,my throat parched,my eyes still holding the spectre of the last visage of my dream,my head being ripped apart from the acute pain.But!!! who did this to me? and why?

At the crossroads of a life transcending experince,I felt that I had a choice.The arrows towards my choices weren`t bearing any destination per se,but were glowing with the impeding radiance aka the implications of trudging along the said path.Often!I took the wrong turn.Often my mind skewed towards the wrong curve bend of thoughts.The constant ropepulling tug of war between the mind and the body who were pitching their regulations whould land me in a soup.

The free mind which is free from any clutter of choices,being a newfangled dictator,it shrouded my good sense of objectivism.The white & purely virgin plane that hasn`t been marred by the spoils of bad choices,is so much more divine than a mortal state.

We all learn!We all unlearn!!But I forgot to unlearn and hence to learn.With the safe leaving of knowledge,the space for taking decisions was often overparked with the ships that carried and ferried the imposing thoughts of others.The white line of the seperation often found me on the wrong side of things.

In hindsight,I often have fumbled on the eve of the most life changing choices.Being unaware of your follies,being able to connivingly hide your misgivings and gaffes & or being naiive enough not to know what a deal has in store for you is normal.Its like a ladder.Only once you go on climbing further,you realise how unbalanced your climb is.No one is enlightened enough to strengthen their base before they monkey the rungs.The curves of the brain zigsaw are devilish.They transform themselves as one goes along.I no longer enjoy throwing stones at the electricity poles,neither I get any succour from the con that I played on others.The choice of leaving & new inducing pleasure points of life has been a reflexive action.I never by choice left to read my childhood comic books and pick up the literary frescos.It happened!!

Luxury of not being the bearer of the flag when a running track changes in the end demonifies to a peace devouring monster.Being the monster of your own choices is the best throne one can vie for.The weather,the health are all fleeting & out of your field of control.The best choices are made when the occassional hiccup doesn`t derail your progress.The need or better term 'the essence' of being a high energy horse also entails dissipating of numerous storms of the teacups.

The projection of your thoughts on the flimsy curtain of present time would reveal to you how it has been contaminated by the baggage of the past and the throes of an uncertain future.The mind when put on the anvil of choice fears the hammer.If the pain is accepted,the fear obliterated,the shaping would be perfect and the forging immaculate.

The choice which is always with us to entertain is wrested from our control by a combined force that`s being marshalled by the examples that have been set and we have been constantly grawled upon by the paper tigers who fear our inner fire,lest if we discover it,they `ll be cindered in good`ol history.

Wondering When The Wistful Wishes Will Woosh!....

Maybe! Just Maybe!!

Your wish!!Saying this I accede to her demands.I am a slave.I thought I wasnt!But the clamps lost their keys on me ever since I first saw my own reflection in her reddish brown retinas.What`s been going on isn`t what you wish for.

Time isn`t a dimension anymore.Its no more a mirage,its marriage of all your deeds with all your wishes.I searched for it!For her!For the fleeting moistness in the eyes,for that glint!,for that cherry picked cheeks that bloom everytime her lips part in a smile.Maybe I`ve found what I was looking for.I can`t be sure though.Not till I wake up from this reverie.

Lets look at the situation with a bird`s eye view.I am a fool.And a smart one at that too.Looking for the vital signs.I meandered ,I philadered.To throw some sand in the gears,I paused.Never pushed the diving board down.Maybe I was confused.More silly than what others thought.More sadist than what others believed.Less lucky than what others surmised.Cocky as I was,I was served well.My better half was not even halfway through the carpet when I gave upon the pedestal.Being impatient was always a blunder,being patient a crime.I chose the blunder.My Wish!Granted!!

Look at my back!All hunched and nicely boned,but turns out to be a cropper when I am faced with change.Hope is not a worthy companion.Luck is someone who is either after you or before you,in a race with you but never with you.The binary language of "IFs" and "BUTs" burden your tounge & psyche.I dream!Always!!...........but in vain.

The saccharin that is success eventually takes you out by having you diabetic.The quinine that is defeat lures you,all veiled up in the splendence of the impossible.I rest on my laurels.All the while!!......to my chagrin.

The dirt around me blinds me.I become a sopper for others dirt.The valium of my filter slowly looses its sheen as I go on mellifluosly playing and paying dirt.The green planet never was green.No good being inert.Take sides.Be polarised!!I`ve realised this maxim.Alas!!...........too late.

Decision to bind me was mine,to hold me back was of my mind`s creation.To keep the glitterati at bay,the call came from the pumping lump of blood veined in my left chest cleft.This is my progeny.The state is created with my consent.Frankensteined!!,I stand reading hymnes/verses from the bible as the monster was being earthed.I am the dead in the coffin,I am the undertaker,I was the murderer and I am also the one who shed crocodile tears on my back.Tears well up in my eye sockets!All for myself!!..........how selfish.

The backburner now being burned to cinders,the depenndence now facing a no-trust vote,the meandering mind tethered firmly to my realities,I veer away.To warm the cockles,I will tread on the path that I see light coming from!........just in time.

Once again my beloved calls me! From the deep forest of chestnut trees,so dense that she is all but invisible.I believe in her,the voice yearning for the resonance tone,I cry out!!!

This time though with my waking eyes.....And thank god for that.

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.

2.

 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.

3.

 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.

4. 

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.

5.

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.

6.

 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.

7.

 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.

8. 

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.

9. 

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.

10.

 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.

11. 

  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.

12.

 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.

13. 

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.

14. 

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.

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 ...one 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...