Rain on me

It was still raining...those were the days...
Do you recall?
...splashes and paper boats
...bright umbrellas and raincoats.

Those earnest prayers..
...that school roofs should leak
...for one more chance a lover could seek.

Those sweet nothings...
...of feeling the high tide
...getting drenched with arms opened wide.

Those days of...
...a football and a wet ground
...quenched green fields making that whooshing sound

Do you still...
...catch the raindrops in your palms?
...And feel the steam from a hot cup of tea on your face?

********

It’s still raining..I know u can feel...
...raindrops tapping on closed windows and doors
...drops falling from your eyes to be one with the downpour.

But did you listen...?

..when it was still raining..
..rivers were furious
..dams were broken
..some were dislocated
…..some disappeared.

An insane hurricane had swept away every other resonance…
but I have saved many moments….

Do you hear me now?

Thought Process: Two

For one last time, they held each other’s glance a little longer. Then they parted – the best of adversaries. One was a prisoner of war and the other was a victim of peace.

***************

He fought… may be in the best way he could and with the only attack he knew. Alas! He was unprepared… not for a riposte but for an impenetrable defense.

In the end, it was all there, deep within his mind.

I wished it could have been spilled but it was wasted.

***************

She dreamed of a perfect world and a perfect hero to emulate. She heard their stories – of those struggling in obscure glories... and whose heroic deeds were never recounted ...but she could find no benchmark.

So she decided to be her own hero. She believed if it could be imagined it could be achieved in spite of the laws of physics and life.

..Of some frailties

Like a warrior on a battlefront
whose body and mind are in a cacophony….
the infinity inside her veins and mind
feel in sync with his every move….

His wounds
…bleeding, black and blue, soiled
…emerging from the skin’s barrier.

Her cuts and gashes
…do not bleed,
… impervious to the weathered will.

Like a lunatic lover’s yearning for the return of her soul-mate,
her dents keep waiting like a fetes crawled in every inside.

Like an inaccessible fence she may seem.
Or may be she is porous, broken, rusted….

But her wounds never bleed.
And so they NEVER heal.

Wish List

The light of fireflies
Vagabonding
Room
Verb
Love
Flowers
Poet
Smiles
Dancing partner
Hours and Minutes
Navy blue canopy of a starlit sky
Moonrise at a horizon
Morning Dew
Blue
Smelling earth after drizzle
Solitude
Open roads
White noise
Chimes
Flying kites

Puma shoes
Hot shower after a tiring game
Dreams
Target boards
Composure
Velocity
Ability to run 100m in 9 seconds
Podium heights

Cliffhanging
Ascending Himalayas
Skiing in Vienna
Snowfall at St. Petersburg
My motorcycle diaries
World trotting
Reading newspaper over Dead Sea
Backpacking through rural India

Attention
Attention span
Liberty from redundant advice and labels

80 GB music
Well cooked food everyday
Freedom from acne
Stronger mint
Steaming hot pasta
Spinach
Mint and lemon tea

Colours and paint brushes
Canvas

1000 rupee notes

Longer nights

Leading a revolution


(More to follow...)

When a dream is fulfilled it withers.
And if a dream is incomplete the spirit splinters.

Here and There: Three

With or without the morning rays, every single day he rises from his somnolence with a penchant for a dream; the dream to change the world.

And every calendar day, the world changes him bit by bit. Both never let go of each other. Finally, on a quaint dusk, he decides that he should change himself. There are breaks and jolts at every drop of tranquil thought in the process. Life sets a rendezvous for him with the choice; a choice between sanity and insanity.

Sanity will throw him in the current. He will drift and he will be merry… may be. He will adapt- or so many others in the current may believe. Insanity will keep alive his illusion of molding the world….

By random chances, I meet HIM everyday at every turn of the alley.

Random Moods: Part Two

In a circle there sat some figures facing each other
The circle felt it was a square - closed, and of a rigid cast
The figures spoke with their mouths and never with the eyes
So many sounds, but none of them echoed.
The decibels grew higher…till words became noise
Meanings turned redundant
Nods and agreement a facade
And slowly then, they started wearing their invisible masks of indifference.
They trampled the anthill that they had erected in some lost past
Thoughts did somersaults
Opinions grew around just like weed....


The ‘I’s and ‘We’s got intertwined
And so did altruism and capitalism.
And some slogans were heard ….
None could tell if they were pleas for love or war cries
Narcissus' reflection blurred….
No benchmarks for perfection were yearned for ....


There was a thud!
Love lost and so did hatred…
The senses were slain
History repeated! History won!
Now, everything was numb.

(Shade of this mood: opinionated)

Smoke and Coffee

Strings of smoke
Rings of smoke
..…I create them.

Every time I light a cigar there is a suppressed fire within…
With all that ash that falls off the other end… my lips becomes ashen too.

In the darkness coughs try to be silent, blood tries to be black.

With every puff I get closer to selective amnesia….

I like the smell of the nick in my fingers...

Lighter has become a solitary asset at times…

When I walk in and out of smoke…

I am wary, my friend, of the torture to my body

But the bitterest coffee tastes bland...
And cognac tastes new without the ciggi….

You say I have become a masochist???

Oh! For the benevolence I offer to the tobacco farmers…

*****
Coffee…..
Bitter and sweet!
It murders some sleep they say…
an accompaniment with that fog of cigar…

Her mouth does not smell any better.
It burns some tissues of her tongue.
She has it too hot, may be.

Nonetheless,
he likes to smell her.

Nonetheless,
he yearns to be with her and her cup of coffee.

Random Moods: Part One

I close my eyes.

A dark navy blue canopy envelops the space with an absolute harmony. The space emerges from the horizon where the canopy pours in magenta tinted traces of clouds. The color navy blue is illuminated with infinite stars. For once, the earth seems serene.

There is someone lying nearby, spread-eagle. The body is still and effortless. The blades of grass are brushing her hair. A satisfaction reaches her lips; they move a little. That someone is me………….

I open my eyes.

People are buzzing by; they are struggling to survive, surviving to strive, striving for an identity lost in the infinity of their minds.

Someone is calling out my name with that irritating emphasis on the syllable M. I frown; it isn’t their mistake anyway. My hands are playing with the pen lazily. The page is scribbled with some words that are trying hard to form a complete sentence…..communism, use of power in India, democracy thrust upon us…. Blah blah… In the margin, a name and random faces are sketched repeatedly.

Oh yes, I have got to do those assignments……exercise… run.. fence….. Prepare that PPT….
Be presentable at the seminar, after all people should be impressed and it is your debut in the city….. does it matter really?

Hmm….. I don’t really feel like going to Poison…such a waste of a weekend!!! D-uh, I am running out of excuses…. Hmph. I‘ll never make it on time…. I am such a nerd at multitasking. C’mon, you got to be focused!

Meanwhile, there’s incessant scribbling in my notebook about new dates.
These deadlines will never spare, not until I obey them???

Life is: A+, A, B+, B, C+, C, D … whatever, it always feels like X….
Life is: gold, silver, bronze and podium heights….. … All that jazz, just glinting in the eyes…
Life is: Early to bed and early to rise, after sunrise.

Yes, the professor is right. We do nothing man…. Iraq issue is related to the dossier! HMM… such scoundrels….

But why does a Rastafarian sport that kind of hair?? Can a Hindu convert to Baha'i faith, or what it takes to be a Gypsy……… ?

But those farmers are still perishing and HECK listen mates, the reason is not BT cotton. What if fencing gets demoted further? Why do they not...?!!

Uff….I never have enough and ‘useful’ knowledge.

She said I’ll be doing the same with other people what media is doing with him right now. No. How could she say that? I won’t. I won’t. A sound was coming from my heart…. Or was it my stomach? No I can’t eat more bread please, say no to white flour. I hope there is something in my bag….. please, please!!!

Where do we run and why?

I close my eyes again.

A dark navy blue canopy…..

It feels better.

(Shade of this mood: A feeling of belonging to the world of Walter Mitty, Don Quixote, Snoopy and Calvin - The tribe of daydreamers.)