Want a drink from this tap?? In times of need we may be forced to...
Want to change that fate?? SAVE WATER!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Child labour
A scene in Chandni Chowk, Delhi... Why deprive a child of what most of us took for granted...? Join hands... stand up against child labour!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Planning it all out!
Today's Quote:
Plans never work baby!
The Lamentation:
Plans are made but designed never to work perfectly. That's the plan of nature. However hopefuls keep your fingers crossed as to when this plan of nature will itself, fail.
The Fact:
Despite being aware of the fact, nobody follows it.
Plans were made once, got bombed; are being made now, getting bombed and will be made again in the future, to get bombed eventually.
The Bottomline:
Plans simply fucking don't work according to the plan!!
The Survey:
Human race is a queer bunch. They go probing into universal complexities but never realise what's so essentially simple. In a true sense they never really learn. And they make plans.
The Offline:
Now as we're approaching another eventful year 2010 (everyone says the same stuff about any other damned year anyway), people have started making plans. From weight loss, diet, quitting booze and fag to managing anger, tension, buying some gizmo and starting to make plans for making plans about learning how to make plans.
The Online:
That reminds me, i haven't made any plans yet. I plan not to!
Plans never work baby!
The Lamentation:
Plans are made but designed never to work perfectly. That's the plan of nature. However hopefuls keep your fingers crossed as to when this plan of nature will itself, fail.
The Fact:
Despite being aware of the fact, nobody follows it.
Plans were made once, got bombed; are being made now, getting bombed and will be made again in the future, to get bombed eventually.
The Bottomline:
Plans simply fucking don't work according to the plan!!
The Survey:
Human race is a queer bunch. They go probing into universal complexities but never realise what's so essentially simple. In a true sense they never really learn. And they make plans.
The Offline:
Now as we're approaching another eventful year 2010 (everyone says the same stuff about any other damned year anyway), people have started making plans. From weight loss, diet, quitting booze and fag to managing anger, tension, buying some gizmo and starting to make plans for making plans about learning how to make plans.
The Online:
That reminds me, i haven't made any plans yet. I plan not to!
The Ultimate Man!!
Outside a gents' toilet near red fort, it was something of an awe to see Shahrukh Khan being an unusual brand ambassador... Ironically there was none for the ladies toilet!!!Sunday, October 11, 2009
Actor Vijay in college
I didn't click the cam on this one! But i'm sharing some snaps in my archives which form a part of my memories of Chennai
Monday, October 5, 2009
A lost game of scrabble
I lost this game to my mom. Three "i" s remained by the end of the game... the scores on both sides well upto 300
Bherri Indian
I took this photo outside Taj Connemara in Mount road. It shows how the world is going "BHERRI BHERRI INDIAN"
A Lizard in My Pocket
Despicable abhorred inferior
Struggling in the dark auspices
Of my pocket
I sensed the lizard
I couldn’t comprehend how
It dared get there
Maybe by an accident
It fell off the wall
Clambered its way in
Through my trousers leg as ladder leading
I could bear no more
Its wiggling
I fished into my pocket
And with all contempt and disgrace
Threw it in the litter
Thus put it in its place
Cleansed my hands of its filth
With pace
And with reasons of water
Struggling in the dark auspices
Of my pocket
I sensed the lizard
I couldn’t comprehend how
It dared get there
Maybe by an accident
It fell off the wall
Clambered its way in
Through my trousers leg as ladder leading
I could bear no more
Its wiggling
I fished into my pocket
And with all contempt and disgrace
Threw it in the litter
Thus put it in its place
Cleansed my hands of its filth
With pace
And with reasons of water
Constant as Change
Festivity, gaiety and beauty
In the soft, cordial breezes of spring
Invite into a warm amity
With surreal magnanimities beckoning
Hearts blossom, smiles captivate
And affection is a bottomless abyss
But nothing is as constant as change
As when warmth turns into heat
Drying up the elixir of life
Scorching to tan the hardening hides
And no moisture to hold it apiece
It cracks out and fissures
And bursts out in all turbulence
The once amiable sun
Sets in a fiery red
In a contrasting coldness of the night
But nothing is as constant as change
As when heaven’s tears soak the skin
Sprout from nowhere, envious greens
And sneaks croak out their kin
Those who run, get the shelter they seek
While still being wary, of where feet may slip
And some diplomatically safe
As an ant in the confines of a sweet home
But nothing is as constant as change
As when live green drops to the feet
Dead, trodden underneath
Once they promised a refreshing fervour
Now to drown into an autumn’s gloom
Seeking respite, solace
Revenge, society
For it poured too hard and left
All alone in a startling stillness
To choose between peace or dreariness
But nothing is as constant as change
As when the chills of surface reach the bones
The chaste mantle of the winter queen
Dreads in its own serene whiteness
Fearing a blot in snow’s purity
Cold feet, shoulders, hearts and words
Aye, so grateful to bless this curse
For amidst a world of chill and despise
One finds
Where true warmth lies
In the soft, cordial breezes of spring
Invite into a warm amity
With surreal magnanimities beckoning
Hearts blossom, smiles captivate
And affection is a bottomless abyss
But nothing is as constant as change
As when warmth turns into heat
Drying up the elixir of life
Scorching to tan the hardening hides
And no moisture to hold it apiece
It cracks out and fissures
And bursts out in all turbulence
The once amiable sun
Sets in a fiery red
In a contrasting coldness of the night
But nothing is as constant as change
As when heaven’s tears soak the skin
Sprout from nowhere, envious greens
And sneaks croak out their kin
Those who run, get the shelter they seek
While still being wary, of where feet may slip
And some diplomatically safe
As an ant in the confines of a sweet home
But nothing is as constant as change
As when live green drops to the feet
Dead, trodden underneath
Once they promised a refreshing fervour
Now to drown into an autumn’s gloom
Seeking respite, solace
Revenge, society
For it poured too hard and left
All alone in a startling stillness
To choose between peace or dreariness
But nothing is as constant as change
As when the chills of surface reach the bones
The chaste mantle of the winter queen
Dreads in its own serene whiteness
Fearing a blot in snow’s purity
Cold feet, shoulders, hearts and words
Aye, so grateful to bless this curse
For amidst a world of chill and despise
One finds
Where true warmth lies
The first leaf of autumn
When the seedling struggled naked
Against torrential weather, changing seasons, pests
The soil to which it was indebted
Air to breathe, water to quench thirst, sunshine to guide
Weren’t enough to fight its battles
Then the first leaf, sprang from it in spring
Wary and careful at first, but eventually trusting
Intertwined its life with the seedling, so did the latter
Inseparable as a pair and formidable when to stand by each other
They bore ripping hurricanes with their intimate bond
Seasons changed, came the scorching summer
The leaf toiled for them, the seedling gave it shelter
Leaving the world in the greenest of envy
Could there be something as implicit
For their life blood became one, betrothed by being
Together, as branches came, and as more leaves did too
But the soil’s debt beckoned the seedling
Which was a plant by now, less reliant on the leaf
Lesser on everything else too, but the soil was where its roots lay
The choice was made, with a dilemma for appearances
It grew, but more callous of the leaf
Which feared that the bond, was weakening at the node
Canker dotted the leaf, and the sun bleached it dry
Even flying specks of earth made its filthy lamina cry
All it appealed to, was the plant
Not to fight those, but to summon its ramparts
To rejuvenate and heal the leaf, which still held resilient
But in vain, the plant spread its branches rather
Deepened its roots in a claim to be a better shelter
Indifferent to the leaf, for which it was to live
The lifeblood in them clotted at the node
Once their elixir, now it became a wall
The crestfallen leaf clung, unsure of its fall
Resisted the wintry cold, as the plant melted its frost now and then
It even resisted when a breeze bellowed along
Willing to make it fresh, carry in its arms strong
The leaf gave in, swayed and danced, in the caresses of the breeze
But wanting instead, the plant to dance with its passion
It dawned soon on the leaf that the wind wasn’t its to own
So it swayed and danced no more, rather let it pass
Soon it withered, dry, yellow red
Hoping the plant to care, but in vain again to dread
It thought best to let go, so fell
Away from the plant, away from its roots
Far away, in its own lonely bed
The plant wondered, its leaves did whisper
Of the infidel first leaf, what it revealed to that bower
The plant was shaken, but did retain its vigour
The first leaf was special no more, the plant thought better
The leaf knew it couldn’t retreat
Still it wanted to be at the plant’s feet
To even rot and nourish it, when it fell in autumn
Which, was unacceptable anymore
Either lived, to become strong, aloof
Never daring or caring to look back and think
All the plant saw, so did the world
Was the leaf fly with the breeze in wild abandon
Not why it fell, why it weakened at the node
In autumn
It wasn’t about right or wrong, it was what was meant to be
The plant grew thicker and retained its purpose
To fruit, to flourish, to branch and to strengthen its roots
The first leaf isn’t the last, there are more leaves to come
The leaf did live too for greater purposes to see
To shine as a model in a pantheist’s herbarium
Cause it isn’t the last leaf too for the first leaf of autumn
The waiting nymph
Two pools with depth of warmth and hopeLashes like butterflies seeking sweet nectar
Quivering trembling petals of red rose
Waiting to speak but for her solitude
A restless creeper slender swayed by the breeze
Waiting for the tree trunk instead to caress her
Two wisps of nimbus raised in doting anxiety
Amidst the snowy peaked forehead
Permitting only a chaste vermillion sun
Waiting from the spray of morn
Till the embers of the day die away
A duo of dew drops drips from her dainty cheeks
She rises like a gale, flies away like a swallow in eve
Her silken robes ripple the air like the river
Clouds of faith shed raindrops pattering to stop never
Her anklets jingle as if in orchestration
Crickets mourn her consternation
She gets shrouded in a deathly dark knight’s brocade
To return, yet again with the morning spray
For an endless fruitless wait
A deceiver’s truth
I rest, centred in the web
My intricately woven mesh of a home
Of delicately strong silken threads
Deceitful deathtraps for my naïve victims
Who eventually satiate my gastronomity
But stop awhile to marvel at how
My greased limbs prance over
The same sticky deadly net
Swiftly daintily and dexterously
Some other possessive beings
May derive pleasure tearing down
A complex architectural masterpiece
Exposed to useless shredded tentacles
Which blotched their simple décor
Unyielding, my arachnid glands
Churn out yet another sticky web
Once more, to save my face
My intricately woven mesh of a home
Of delicately strong silken threads
Deceitful deathtraps for my naïve victims
Who eventually satiate my gastronomity
But stop awhile to marvel at how
My greased limbs prance over
The same sticky deadly net
Swiftly daintily and dexterously
Some other possessive beings
May derive pleasure tearing down
A complex architectural masterpiece
Exposed to useless shredded tentacles
Which blotched their simple décor
Unyielding, my arachnid glands
Churn out yet another sticky web
Once more, to save my face
The Prayer of a Daughter
I pray not for myself
Contented am I with the gifts of infancy
My mother blessed me with
Bickering with her better half to bring me forth
For their bundle of joy lacked mirth
Set to enter the world of frills
Yet she endured me, for nine months
Through searing pain, birthed a fruitless labour of love
I pray not for myself
Contented am I with the home I was bestowed with
A few breaths of air once outside her
Then she wrapped my shriveled self in a generous warm rag
Gave me care in the cradle of her arms, though momentary
Helpless, put me to bed on a mushy rotting sack
Weeping, she left me under the stars
Nudged by a breeze loaded with
The smells of the sweat of my first shelter
Where everything decomposed to give me a warm organic bed
To lie down and rest, to live
For so many others too, my siblings
Under the roof of the skies
Tiny flies buzzed in my unformed ears, singing sweet lullabies
Grunting pigs to reassure me of company
Amidst my wails, the barking of street dogs
Baying for my precious life, to devour the tender flesh off me
But when my tear laden eyes saw her face
In the moon’s glow, I understood the challenge to me
There were devils yes, but despite them I was meant to be
Her maternity shrouded me as the moonlight
I slept; I did survive that unforgiving night
I pray not for myself
Contented am I, with human care at last.jpg)
A human to eventually pick me up from the squalor
Not my mother but a mother nevertheless
No maternity in her breast but motherhood in her heart nevertheless
Sweet kisses that erased the memories of our own teary farewell
A family with real people, real siblings, real human love
Welcomed me heartily into my warm pink world
I’m happy
I pray not for me but for you
You, who returned that night, empty arms, empty womb
Lonely days you spent emptying yourself of blood, milk and tears
In an empty home to live with an empty heart
With an empty someone, who loved the fruits
But not the labour that your sex took
In this barrenness, you missed the bundle
That could’ve filled your waiting arms
Of the fairer sex like you, but not devoid of her unique charms
No chubby finger to jab at you and suckle at your love
No ribbons for curly plaits no pink frocks and all above
You missed your live doll to play with dolls
A sweet and innocent heart to love you through your falls
You missed the pretty maiden to whom you’d have been
A friend, philosopher and guide to be with in embarrassing teens
A growing woman, to bring up strong
To fight the uncompromising chauvinist world
To fight with you as well, why her skirts were too long
To question you in everything that you said was ladylike
Later a woman like you, your own confidante
A head to nod, ears to listen and a heart to sympathize
With your own complaints, against the world or household
Or even how burdensome this stubborn girl was to you
Till you bade her a teary farewell, this time happily
The light of your home to light up another
Just the way you did
I pray not for myself, mother, but for you
My father who took a narrow minded turn, for you too
You may have saved some cost by preferring an earning boy
Than a trusting, loving, caring girl
But it’s a daughter you missed
Contented am I with the gifts of infancy
My mother blessed me with
Bickering with her better half to bring me forth
For their bundle of joy lacked mirth
Set to enter the world of frills
Yet she endured me, for nine months
Through searing pain, birthed a fruitless labour of love
I pray not for myself
Contented am I with the home I was bestowed with
A few breaths of air once outside her
Then she wrapped my shriveled self in a generous warm rag
Gave me care in the cradle of her arms, though momentary
Helpless, put me to bed on a mushy rotting sack
Weeping, she left me under the stars
Nudged by a breeze loaded with
The smells of the sweat of my first shelter
Where everything decomposed to give me a warm organic bed
To lie down and rest, to live
For so many others too, my siblings
Under the roof of the skies
Tiny flies buzzed in my unformed ears, singing sweet lullabies
Grunting pigs to reassure me of company
Amidst my wails, the barking of street dogs
Baying for my precious life, to devour the tender flesh off me
But when my tear laden eyes saw her face
In the moon’s glow, I understood the challenge to me
There were devils yes, but despite them I was meant to be
Her maternity shrouded me as the moonlight
I slept; I did survive that unforgiving night
I pray not for myself
Contented am I, with human care at last
.jpg)
A human to eventually pick me up from the squalor
Not my mother but a mother nevertheless
No maternity in her breast but motherhood in her heart nevertheless
Sweet kisses that erased the memories of our own teary farewell
A family with real people, real siblings, real human love
Welcomed me heartily into my warm pink world
I’m happy
I pray not for me but for you
You, who returned that night, empty arms, empty womb
Lonely days you spent emptying yourself of blood, milk and tears
In an empty home to live with an empty heart
With an empty someone, who loved the fruits
But not the labour that your sex took
In this barrenness, you missed the bundle
That could’ve filled your waiting arms
Of the fairer sex like you, but not devoid of her unique charms
No chubby finger to jab at you and suckle at your love
No ribbons for curly plaits no pink frocks and all above
You missed your live doll to play with dolls
A sweet and innocent heart to love you through your falls
You missed the pretty maiden to whom you’d have been
A friend, philosopher and guide to be with in embarrassing teens
A growing woman, to bring up strong
To fight the uncompromising chauvinist world
To fight with you as well, why her skirts were too long
To question you in everything that you said was ladylike
Later a woman like you, your own confidante
A head to nod, ears to listen and a heart to sympathize
With your own complaints, against the world or household
Or even how burdensome this stubborn girl was to you
Till you bade her a teary farewell, this time happily
The light of your home to light up another
Just the way you did
I pray not for myself, mother, but for you
My father who took a narrow minded turn, for you too
You may have saved some cost by preferring an earning boy
Than a trusting, loving, caring girl
But it’s a daughter you missed
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)