In the waft of this cloud
In the silence of this jingle
Nothing ever seemed so serene and perfect
The heavy hush dragging itself
The sweet coolness, unable to hide its color
A single molten leaf drifts by
Crystal clear, pure, perfect
Heavy footsteps complement this silence
Gracefully they sway
At the pull of the hush
The jingle plays along
Light, as never before
Wetness, reminding of snow
This magnificent frame in which I stand
Hues of watery yellow, playful blue,
The shine of the bushes faraway
A squirrel darts by
Music floats, and a leaf stirs in magic
Shivering water, unwilling to move
Sharp edges, and the hush silences
Feelings condense, as my mind still unaware
Floats along
What corner of existence is this,
Timeless, selfless
Vapors dance for a moment
As warmth fights to creep out
A sudden radiance, a sheen to this magic.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
The difference
I lost a single one
It made all the difference
Took away my clean slate from me
Pulled at my integrity
Everything summed up into that one
The angst, the hurt, the fumes
Tears of the heart at all those times
The bleed that the razor incurred
The sharpest ones are pained the most;
it does crystallize the resolve
The energy fireballs, and it did
But for that single one, a teeny small one that preferred to stay
I wake at nights, unable to bear the thought
The hate of the cause of the one,
Gory dedication frozen just at the edge
Unbelievable though, the highest passion
would wrap itself around the one
The sinusoid of life would crest at that one
It was a filthy way to lose;
but an incredibly satisfying one
Yes, it summed up everything, completely
The angst remains, but a smile soothes it
It's all a mind game, really is
Parched integrity dips in untold joy of the time
The present reflects on the places the mind has been to
Marvels at the way the one could capture
Deep resentment and deeper attachment
The impact can never be etched out
Yes, I lost the single one,
I got back an imprint in time.
It made all the difference
Took away my clean slate from me
Pulled at my integrity
Everything summed up into that one
The angst, the hurt, the fumes
Tears of the heart at all those times
The bleed that the razor incurred
The sharpest ones are pained the most;
it does crystallize the resolve
The energy fireballs, and it did
But for that single one, a teeny small one that preferred to stay
I wake at nights, unable to bear the thought
The hate of the cause of the one,
Gory dedication frozen just at the edge
Unbelievable though, the highest passion
would wrap itself around the one
The sinusoid of life would crest at that one
It was a filthy way to lose;
but an incredibly satisfying one
Yes, it summed up everything, completely
The angst remains, but a smile soothes it
It's all a mind game, really is
Parched integrity dips in untold joy of the time
The present reflects on the places the mind has been to
Marvels at the way the one could capture
Deep resentment and deeper attachment
The impact can never be etched out
Yes, I lost the single one,
I got back an imprint in time.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
A simple day
I went to my dad’s office one day. I checked my mails on his computer, we photo-copied some stuff, and went to the bank to finish some paperwork. It was a simple day. The memories are forever.
It started with the local train journey. I wondered … this morning murmur, the brisk heat of routine…it must have been so much a part of his life for years. He looked satisfied that we managed to get a good seat in the train. Simple happiness. It was a part of the thing for him; an outsider’s view for me. I sensed he was happy, by me just being there, to share his ride, one day. He talked to me often, telling me mostly world things that happened while I was away. It’s funny sometimes, how the world is always there to fill up your conversations. I had mostly memories, faint ones, here and there. Occasionally his face brightened up by a random recollection. I was not completely ‘myself with my dad’ in the presence of others, but he was just the same. My Popo. When others intruded in our silent world, he sometimes talked to me in whispers, like we were a team. Indeed we were. A team of three. Right from the beginning. Do I even know the beginning? Perhaps he does.
We alighted at the terminus. Dad hurried to get us out before it got crowded. I followed him. Just the way I always have.
He talked a lot to me on the way. I could see the changing world in his eyes. His practicality and acceptance flowed just as easy. Everything seems so uncomplicated if it is just a part of routine. We reached his office. 10 year old memories rushed to me. The place had changed, or maybe my mind had just hazed out the details. My popo’s office. He talked to the lift operator on the way. I went to dad’s room and looked out of the window. People still looked really teeny from there. So that was not just a childhood thrill after all. I saw dad at work. For the first time I knew what it means to see him when he’s not popo. We went to the basement to photo-copy. The place talked to me. She told me she knew my dad. She had seen him around for years. Always the same brisk manner of purpose. Slightly absent minded. She said she felt that my dad was always thinking about something even when he was doing the most mundane of tasks. I wondered if she knew what. The back road that we took to the basement; how many times had my dad crossed it? We left for bank; I was trying to keep pace with him. He was just the same, he would like to say, constant velocity. Again the same fixed purpose in mind. What was it with today? What was it with that place? A hundred thoughts swept across in patterns. What was this that I was feeling? Why did each small action feel so special to me? , And then I realized it: Each moment I had been saying to myself … It is right here…the life of the man who I know so completely …the life he has lived for 20 years…
.…It seemed like I was looking at the other side of the picture. It felt like today completed the mosaic. It has always been like this. Practical. Brisk. Extremely Emotional. Popo.
It started with the local train journey. I wondered … this morning murmur, the brisk heat of routine…it must have been so much a part of his life for years. He looked satisfied that we managed to get a good seat in the train. Simple happiness. It was a part of the thing for him; an outsider’s view for me. I sensed he was happy, by me just being there, to share his ride, one day. He talked to me often, telling me mostly world things that happened while I was away. It’s funny sometimes, how the world is always there to fill up your conversations. I had mostly memories, faint ones, here and there. Occasionally his face brightened up by a random recollection. I was not completely ‘myself with my dad’ in the presence of others, but he was just the same. My Popo. When others intruded in our silent world, he sometimes talked to me in whispers, like we were a team. Indeed we were. A team of three. Right from the beginning. Do I even know the beginning? Perhaps he does.
We alighted at the terminus. Dad hurried to get us out before it got crowded. I followed him. Just the way I always have.
He talked a lot to me on the way. I could see the changing world in his eyes. His practicality and acceptance flowed just as easy. Everything seems so uncomplicated if it is just a part of routine. We reached his office. 10 year old memories rushed to me. The place had changed, or maybe my mind had just hazed out the details. My popo’s office. He talked to the lift operator on the way. I went to dad’s room and looked out of the window. People still looked really teeny from there. So that was not just a childhood thrill after all. I saw dad at work. For the first time I knew what it means to see him when he’s not popo. We went to the basement to photo-copy. The place talked to me. She told me she knew my dad. She had seen him around for years. Always the same brisk manner of purpose. Slightly absent minded. She said she felt that my dad was always thinking about something even when he was doing the most mundane of tasks. I wondered if she knew what. The back road that we took to the basement; how many times had my dad crossed it? We left for bank; I was trying to keep pace with him. He was just the same, he would like to say, constant velocity. Again the same fixed purpose in mind. What was it with today? What was it with that place? A hundred thoughts swept across in patterns. What was this that I was feeling? Why did each small action feel so special to me? , And then I realized it: Each moment I had been saying to myself … It is right here…the life of the man who I know so completely …the life he has lived for 20 years…
.…It seemed like I was looking at the other side of the picture. It felt like today completed the mosaic. It has always been like this. Practical. Brisk. Extremely Emotional. Popo.
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