tick tock

Time abrades rocks to grains of sand
Time bids rivers to cut gorges grand
Time heals a broken heart
Time brings together, time takes apart

Time passes you
As you pass it

Rajjo

She hasn’t eaten green vegetables in weeks. Even a coriander-chutney or chillies seem a luxury as they go to the male members of the family. She doesn’t mind. Her broad shouldered, had working husband needs it more than she does. Her bosom swells with pride at the sight of his shoulder blades peeping from his vest. His expanse of a chest was like the desert around her – vast and rippling with sand dunes.

Her anklets clink and the faux ivory bangles clack as she washes the dishes. Just a little water will do – there’s no grease. The clanging vessels smother the sounds of her rumbling stomach.

“Rajjo!!” summons the mother-in-law. A huddle of old women are cackling and cawing in the courtyard and they fall silent as Rajjo enters. “Four years. Four years since this ill-omen of a woman entered this household, and there’s no child.” screams Rajjo’s tyrant. Rajjo bites the dupatta to keep it from flying away from her wheat brown face. The sludge of tears and kohl- murky as night, spreads under her eyes. They know nothing of the miscarriages, the pain and blood. “We’ll tell Manohar to get a new wife. Arrey Saroj… tell me who will look after the fields? And Paro, who will look after us in our old age? Will I die without seeing the face of a grandson? Oh how unlucky can I be?”. The women look at Rajjo, the harbinger of ill luck “Baanjh hogi” (she’s infertile) says one “she’s so ugly, he wouldn’t want to hold her” says another.

Manohar appears at the doorway. He growls at Rajjo to go inside. One look at his mother and she knows that the incriminations are futile. She sighs and whispers to her friend Saroj “Look, she has taken him away from me..”

14-02

another day replete with false promises
empty words
shifty eyed glances
large fur balls of teddy bears and hearts
a candy world full of candied dreams

Her eyes are glazed
with the stoic film of acceptance of her fate

The fine lines on the parchment of her skin
run deep with the stories of her life

She gives me her martyr smile
that is a shadow of her sadness

The once dark monsoon of hair
now a withered autumn of frizzed white

Is she beautiful?
I have seen her this way, always
I have not seen her in full blossom -
a tender bud, eager to burst forth
and spread her colour in the canvas of life

But now the colours on the palette are dry, are few
O Lord wield your brush anew

four lines

i found

that i had lost something

i lost

something that i had found

pilgrim's progress ;)

Varanasi or Vrindavan. There's a certain something common to these holy places in North India. The five senses have an array of things to absorb..

Olfactory: musky agarbatti fumes combined with heady fresh-cowdung and a hint of marigold aroma

Auditory: Resonant bells, urchin cries, the Lord's name being sung or chanted...droning in the background

Visual: Colour splashed around...saffrons, reds, greens... water in ever changing moods

Taste: Saccharine sweetness of prasada, charan amrit...

Touch: the textures... of fabric, of the gritty dust...

This year has started on a good note.. a trip to Varanasi in Jan, a trip to Vrindavan in Feb..
hmmm Ver next??

limerick no good

If it were to happen, it would
If I knew it was to be done, I would

I never even understood
That it was for my own good

I think of you often
The bitterness has now softened

But forget you, now I really should

can love be unwelcome?

Love can come in many forms... Dutifully giving a toffee whenever we meet, caring admonitions, a glance that says so much, an invite for coffee for no reason at all, a chewing gum in the middle of a class in which I'm nodding off to sleep..
The distances and differences are so much, yet there is so much closeness and care. One worries for me, the other dotes on me. And I simply bask in the combined warmth of their affection. Not giving, just selfishly receiving. Because its NOT THEIR affection that I want.
Although it is a manifestation of some kind of love, I don't want it. They both are such wonderful friends, I've never had male friends who actually cared or bothered about me. But I can't reciprocate it to them. ...

Why do I like Billy Joel's songs?

Ther was a certain somebody who had set Billy Joel's numbers as caller tunes....


"In the middle of the naaaiiiiiiiteee.... I go walkin in my sleee-eeee-eeep...."

"Sing us a song, ur the piano man..."

" .....But its still rock and roll to me...."

" We didn't start the fire..."

"O--o---o... uptown girl..."

I dont know where that person is these days and what he's upto. Upto no good...of that I'm soooo sure...

trashy gothy

how unconventional is unconventional? and what is convention anyway. dump convention, norms and all... to hell with society that doesn't care for you till you do something outrageous enough to make them point fingers and pass around hot-cross-buns of gossip.i want to be a goth. without the piercing and all (ouch)... but there we go again, i wouldn't be a true goth n the gothic community wouldn't accept me. hey... wy be part of any community. being an individual would be better.. living by one's own rules

kelly clarkson: beeecozzz of youuu

"Because Of You"

I will not make the same mistakes that you did

I will not let myself

Cause my heart so much misery

I will not break the way you did,

You fell so hard

I've learned the hard way

To never let it get that far

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of youI find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me

Because of you

I am afraid....

I lose my way

And it's not too long before you point it out

I cannot cry

Because I know that's weakness in your eyes

I'm forced to fake

A smile, a laugh everyday of my life

My heart can't possibly break

When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of youI find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me

Because of youI am afraid

I watched you die

I heard you cry every night in your sleep

I was so young

You should have known better than to lean on me

You never thought of anyone else

You just saw your pain

And now I cry in the middle of the night

For the same damn thing

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of you

I try my hardest just to forget everything

Because of you

I don't know how to let anyone else in

Because of youI'm ashamed of my life because it's empty

Because of you

I am afraid

Because of you

Because of you

sob sob sob

sniffle

PAARP (blowing nose)

once again

So IT had to happen. The finality of IT is so in-the-face. Nothing more, nothing less. It. The IT that happens. That doesn't happen, but does sometimes.
IT has many forms, and I've seen most of them... the false, the pretentious, the oh-so-true-now-and-forever.
I see IT and yet don't know.

white on blue

white scallops on a blue shore..or curd spattered on a blue counterpane?

a love story embellished white in a script arcane?

the silent refrain

plays on and on in my brain

agony contorts

and the devil cavorts

in this caged mind thats no longer sane

on and on, plays the silent lament

the silent prayer to dilute my predicament

but the torture persists

and the devil insists

its not just past, its dire portent

SS28011982

In medicine, the term syndrome is the association of several clinically recognizable features, signs, symptoms, phenomena or characteristics which often occur together, so that the presence of one feature alerts the physician to the presence of the others - A collection of physical signs and symptoms associated with a disease; a group of malformations that that occur together frequently enough to be recognized collectively as a distinct abnormal condition.

(I like):

A recognizable pattern or group of multiple signs, symptoms or malformations that characterize a particular condition; syndromes are thought to arise from a common origin and result from more than one developmental error during fetal growth. A constellation of signs (wow) and symptoms that recur regularly in clinical populations. a complex of concurrent things; "every word has a syndrome of meanings"

We are all walkin talkin syndromes

Its all programmed in our respective genomes

I have "sunainasinghsyndrome" I. D. SS28011982

And what syndrome, pray, have you?

The nog and the frightingale

Never had anyone begged me so much, so I couldn’t help but give in and sign for the post of literary secy, PGSSU. I’m a spineless wimp with no decisions of my own and NIL assertiveness. So, when I finally became LS (much to the disdain of my friends…. and to the delight of ‘certain elements’), I remembered a coupla lines from *Sickram Wait’s… ‘the *nog and the frightingale’
“ … far too nervous
far too tense
far too prone to influence…”

that’s so much like me

Breaking out of (brackets)

Enclosed in parentheses.

Excluded, yet important

Marked, yet separate

Pertaining to, yet not in it

Ensconced between two curves

Wanting to spill out -

and spread all over the page,

Uninhibited.

Let me burst forth in abandon -

delve into the depths of evil,

and seep into the crevices of iniquitousness.

Let me wrong all right -

undo all done,

gushing, rushing..

wreaking havoc to the hilt,

till the madness ebbs

and I simmer to an eddy

that creeps, congeals and hardens -

suspended in inert abeyance on the edge of nothingness.

lazepython

there's this certain python,

lazepython.

when it wraps itself around me , i feel peaceful warmth and ease

and want it even more with every squeeze

i breathe easier

life seems breezier

and i feel like i'm a langorous trail of molten cheese

memories

The memories are in faded monochrome

What remains is a whiff as if from a dried up rose stuck to the yellowed pages of a book

tears wept, empty promises and meaningless words whisperd with fake sincerity

a face

some dismembered sounds... mocking laughter

crunching and crackling of what was a heart...

Shards

Nyctanthes in the morning

Went for a morning jog. Swept my room, had a bath and did a bit of Pranayam. Plucked Nyctanthes (Har sringar)... those orange and white heady smelling flowers... Sounds like an ideal way to start the day? Sure is. This Dushehera I'm planning to fight the evil asuras of

• slothfulness


• untidiness


• disarrayed and disorganized state of mind and room


• greed (for unlimited supply of clothes)


• envy (of people with great jobs and love life)

Listening to Vishnu Sahasranaama and waiting for the tamasic N to wake up so that we can go for breakfast.