Abutting a gleaming crimson twilight
awaited a soul for him to arrive.
Tracing the silhouette of his footsteps
the only possession he left behind.
She counted the nights and days that dawned
just for him to arrive.
Her thoughts lingered on him
and her eyes in a perpetual mirage.
Gone astray with those golden words
are gone astray her mind.
Beyond the fathom of the desert
or the charisma of the wind,
those enigmatic moments of secrecy
unfolded within.
Her fragrance set out to pursue his path.
Her shadow behind the curse.
Out on a quest she went to seek
what was never hers.
Prolonging the search for him
with the love for him insane
perplexed and lost in the crimson eve
she still waits for him in vain.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The story of a yellow umbrella
Mom still insisted that I take no chance.
“It indeed is pretty mom, but it’s a little too huge for me to carry.”
“Don’t worry. The sky looks pretty clear. Doesn’t seem to rain today. You can leave your umbrella at home” said my sis pointing out to the watch indicating that I’m getting late to school. Reluctantly, mom let me go without my yellow umbrella.
As I stepped out of the building I felt a drop of water falling on my forehead. “Vaish, I think its drizzling. See?” I said pointing out to the wet patch on my temple.
“Please Pavz. Its from the trees” she said as they had already been fortunate to witness the showers before me.
I wiped it off n hurried to the bus stop. I was content to see a blue sky clear enough to convince myself that I was correct though a part of me sensed the hoax consolation. It was much cooler than the days that went by. The weather seemed very pleasing. The little kids who boarded the bus added to the serenity of the joyous atmosphere. All the while in the bus I hoped and prayed that it didn’t rain. I sat in my usual place next to the window letting the cold wind gently brush my arm.
Just as I was about to reach my destination a cluster of dark clouds gathered and drops of water washed my elbow. Mom’s instincts were proven right. She is Mom afterall! It was my first date with the monsoon this year. Instead of greeting the blissful drops of life I whimsically shut my eyes and made a quick prayer for the rain to stop before I could get down from the bus. It surprisingly did. Still seemed to drizzle, very faintly though. I got down from the bus and hurried my way to school. My school is at a 5 minutes’ walking distance from the bus stop. 3 minutes at the speed I was in! As I half ran-half walked to school the drizzles intensified and no sooner it started raining heavily. We were a bunch of over confident kids and adults without umbrellas. We all took shelter under a huge tree on the way. Regardless, we all got drenched. I was getting late to school and decided to walk in the rain as I had no intensions of getting punished on the second day of school. As I walked in the rain I started enjoying it. I unleashed the kid in me, killing all inhibitions and kicked around the puddle of water and danced my way to school, rediscovering the innocence of a lost childhood. The wind slapped my face hard to make me realize what I had been missing the entire year. I stretched my hands out and said to myself in an almost inaudible voice “I missed you rains. Welcome back!”
“It indeed is pretty mom, but it’s a little too huge for me to carry.”
“Don’t worry. The sky looks pretty clear. Doesn’t seem to rain today. You can leave your umbrella at home” said my sis pointing out to the watch indicating that I’m getting late to school. Reluctantly, mom let me go without my yellow umbrella.
As I stepped out of the building I felt a drop of water falling on my forehead. “Vaish, I think its drizzling. See?” I said pointing out to the wet patch on my temple.
“Please Pavz. Its from the trees” she said as they had already been fortunate to witness the showers before me.
I wiped it off n hurried to the bus stop. I was content to see a blue sky clear enough to convince myself that I was correct though a part of me sensed the hoax consolation. It was much cooler than the days that went by. The weather seemed very pleasing. The little kids who boarded the bus added to the serenity of the joyous atmosphere. All the while in the bus I hoped and prayed that it didn’t rain. I sat in my usual place next to the window letting the cold wind gently brush my arm.
Just as I was about to reach my destination a cluster of dark clouds gathered and drops of water washed my elbow. Mom’s instincts were proven right. She is Mom afterall! It was my first date with the monsoon this year. Instead of greeting the blissful drops of life I whimsically shut my eyes and made a quick prayer for the rain to stop before I could get down from the bus. It surprisingly did. Still seemed to drizzle, very faintly though. I got down from the bus and hurried my way to school. My school is at a 5 minutes’ walking distance from the bus stop. 3 minutes at the speed I was in! As I half ran-half walked to school the drizzles intensified and no sooner it started raining heavily. We were a bunch of over confident kids and adults without umbrellas. We all took shelter under a huge tree on the way. Regardless, we all got drenched. I was getting late to school and decided to walk in the rain as I had no intensions of getting punished on the second day of school. As I walked in the rain I started enjoying it. I unleashed the kid in me, killing all inhibitions and kicked around the puddle of water and danced my way to school, rediscovering the innocence of a lost childhood. The wind slapped my face hard to make me realize what I had been missing the entire year. I stretched my hands out and said to myself in an almost inaudible voice “I missed you rains. Welcome back!”
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Illusionist...
A stranger so known
invading her life
exceptionally changing it
with his magical touch.
Her acts seemed predictable
her thoughts comprehensible.
A psychic she presumed.
An illusionist rather
whose divine eyes suspended
impalpable felony.
His thirst for her blood amplified.
Her sweet fragrance
unleashing the devil within.
Mesmerised by those scotch eyes
relenting her own self;
she let his fangs
to poison her for eternity...
invading her life
exceptionally changing it
with his magical touch.
Her acts seemed predictable
her thoughts comprehensible.
A psychic she presumed.
An illusionist rather
whose divine eyes suspended
impalpable felony.
His thirst for her blood amplified.
Her sweet fragrance
unleashing the devil within.
Mesmerised by those scotch eyes
relenting her own self;
she let his fangs
to poison her for eternity...
Monday, June 8, 2009
Brain drain- fatal facinations...
“Racism reaching its heights in Australia. India protesting by refusing to play cricket with the Aussies.”
“Another Indian student shot down in the U.S by unidentified natives. Rumours claiming racism as the motive.”
The morning daily flooded with such articles on the front page and we are still leaving to the airport to send off our cousin to these estranged islands for working. How impossible can we get???
About roughly a decade back it was a sense of pride to have your son/daughter working abroad. It was a prestige issue for the rich and a capitulated dream of the poor. But today it is a necessity of common man. It is impossible for an Indian family to not have their siblings or relatives in these so called developed countries. The reason though, still remains cryptic.
But is it actually worth risking one’s life just to have a tag of an NRI or to hold a green card in your hand? The growing haphazard everywhere makes life extremely unpredictable. A golden example can be taken from the recent Oz issue. People are running back to India fearing for life. And we natives show our helplessness by protesting to play cricket with the Oz team. I know that it makes absolutely no sense and is no way related but in an attempt to do something we are actually doing anything!
All thanks to our bizarre mentality that even between this chaos you’d still find that MBA-wala bhaiya next door packing his bags for his newly found “foreign job”.
I do not understand what is earned by running away to such alienated terrain, far away from all the things you’ve loved since childhood, working like a slave for hours without your mom there at the end of the day to give you that hot cup of coffee and listen to how your day was. In an attempt to trying to save a few dollars we really end up missing a lot. On one side the fear of losing your job robbing your sleep away and on the other, the anxiety of bringing up your children with “proper Indian values and ethics” tarnishing your peace of mind. India is not bad at all in job opportunities. It’s just this vague fascination of living with the white-skinned that is keeping us away from our mother land.
The final decision still remains open. One may choose to live comparatively secure with a lil’ backup emotionally out here or choose to go out saving dollars at the cost of their lives. A little sense is appreciated though...
“Another Indian student shot down in the U.S by unidentified natives. Rumours claiming racism as the motive.”
The morning daily flooded with such articles on the front page and we are still leaving to the airport to send off our cousin to these estranged islands for working. How impossible can we get???
About roughly a decade back it was a sense of pride to have your son/daughter working abroad. It was a prestige issue for the rich and a capitulated dream of the poor. But today it is a necessity of common man. It is impossible for an Indian family to not have their siblings or relatives in these so called developed countries. The reason though, still remains cryptic.
But is it actually worth risking one’s life just to have a tag of an NRI or to hold a green card in your hand? The growing haphazard everywhere makes life extremely unpredictable. A golden example can be taken from the recent Oz issue. People are running back to India fearing for life. And we natives show our helplessness by protesting to play cricket with the Oz team. I know that it makes absolutely no sense and is no way related but in an attempt to do something we are actually doing anything!
All thanks to our bizarre mentality that even between this chaos you’d still find that MBA-wala bhaiya next door packing his bags for his newly found “foreign job”.
I do not understand what is earned by running away to such alienated terrain, far away from all the things you’ve loved since childhood, working like a slave for hours without your mom there at the end of the day to give you that hot cup of coffee and listen to how your day was. In an attempt to trying to save a few dollars we really end up missing a lot. On one side the fear of losing your job robbing your sleep away and on the other, the anxiety of bringing up your children with “proper Indian values and ethics” tarnishing your peace of mind. India is not bad at all in job opportunities. It’s just this vague fascination of living with the white-skinned that is keeping us away from our mother land.
The final decision still remains open. One may choose to live comparatively secure with a lil’ backup emotionally out here or choose to go out saving dollars at the cost of their lives. A little sense is appreciated though...
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