Some Rhymed Lines : Part 1

The face was fresh,
not striking
he noticed,
but new nevertheless.

They met at a place,
that sold many different dreams
and catered everyone,
with hot coffee and sour cream.

So it was coffee they had
their thoughts occupied,
the eyes nonchalant
the doubtful minds spied.

Relativity

There was a young lady named Bright
Whose speed was far faster than light;
She set out one day,
In a relative way
And returned on the previous night.

By A. H. Reginald Buller

To the Dead in the Graveyard Underneath My Window

How can you lie so still? All day I watch
And never a blade of all the green sod moves
To show where restlessly you toss and turn,
And fling a desperate arm or draw up knees
Stiffened and aching from their long disuse;
I watch all night and not one ghost comes forth
To take its freedom of the midnight hour.

Oh, have you no rebellion in your bones?
The very worms must scorn you where you lie,
A pallid mouldering acquiescent folk,
Meek habitants of unresented graves.
Why are you there in your straight row on row
Where I must ever see you from my bed
That in your mere dumb presence iterate
The text so weary in my ears:"Lie still
And rest; be patient and lie still and rest."

By : Adelaide Crapsey

Going For The Kill

The ruthlessness becomes me now,
the same,
which when once bestowed,
killed me
and then gradually became me.

Now,
when this me kills,
there's no joy,
contrary to what I thought.
Just some irritating sadness,
and mounting tension,
some wry smiles too,
catching me unaware
amidst heartless banter,
yet coldly coaxing me
to keep going for the kill.

Somewhere, Up There...

Somewhere,

high up in the mountains,

where the wind blows free

and frolicks teasingly

with the huge pine tree

where the sky is always clear

but for when the clouds roll

and they hang down so near

that the gray takes over the blue

and yet one wonders,

who painted this hue?

There,

high up in the mountains,

where clear streams run

and tinkle and sprinkle

their ware with so much fun,

where the many butterflies fly

dancing with great abundance,

naughty and yet shy!

Here,

high up in the mountains,

where the world is so pure

a small hut is all I want,

yes, I am so sure.

In the midst of this green,

living would be a bliss

no empty smiles to give,

no hatred, malice or airborne kiss.

Solitude for company,

through moods happy and sad

peace will reign.

where all seasons would be beautiful -

bright summer and misty rain.

Some Lines...Profound

If I could pray, the gist of my

demanding would be simply this:

Quietude. The ordered mind.

Erasure of inner lie.

And only love in every kiss.

From Hymns of Darkness by Nissim Ezekiel

I met a man, loved him. Call

Him not by any name, he is every man

Who wants a woman, just as I am every

Woman who seeks love. In him...the hungry

haste of rivers, in me...

the ocean's tireless waiting.

By Kamala Das

My Symphony

The rain fell,

and with it the selfless giggles.

Mad giggles.

In rhythm

with the sharp shower

stinging my bare back.

Bare feet gave company,

drumming the poodles.

In perfect timing.

What bliss. This symphony.

Like They Said...And Right They Said

"Take most people, they're crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer. I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. I'd rather have a goddam horse. A horse is at least human, for God's sake."

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 17, spoken by the character Holden Caulfield

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

What really knocks me out is a book, when you're all done reading it, you wished the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would've, too, if I'd been sure somebody'd cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Marriage

Some lines :

Lovers, when they marry, face
Eternity with touching grace,
Complacent at being fated,
Never to be separated.

The bride is always pretty, the groom
A lucky man. The darkened room
Roars out the joys of flesh and blood
The use of nakedness is good.

Why should I ruin the mystery,
By harping on the suffering rest,
Myself a frequent wedding guest.

- Nissim Ezekiel

July 13th, 2008

- Distressful Homonyns

Since for me now you have no warmth to spare
I sense I must adopt a sane and spare

Philosophy to ease a restless state
Fuelled by this uncaring. It will state

A very meagre truth: love like the rest
Of our emotions, sometimes needs a rest.

Happiness, too, no doubt; and so, why even
Hope that 'the course of true love' could run even?

By Vikram Seth

She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

- William Wordsworth

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

- William Shakespeare

To Knot or Not?

This post is a borrowed one, or should I say bartered? Exchanged in lieu of an earliar one lended to a very dear friend. But since charity is not my middle name, I decided to lurk around and pounce on any chance of redeeming the favour I had done. And to state the obvious, I actually got my chance!

But considering my penchant for postscripts and asides ( thanks to the many Shakespearean works that I was made to learn by rote, and which I gradually fell in love with ) there have been some minor and major changes in the plot. (For one, the title has been changed.) Sorry Smruti. Well here goes the newer version.

BRIDE WANTED

Wanted convent educated, tall, fair, slim, homely girl. Well, every time somebody starts the topic of marriage, I can’t help but recall the above headline that dots the matrimonial columns of weekend newspapers. And I dread the day when I will be reduced to such a headline…the possibilities are enormous and I say a small prayer every Sunday, when I read the classifieds and don’t see my name or description featured in it.

It’s become a daily chore now. Well almost. To avoid the topic of marriage. Invariably someone or the other brings up the topic and somewhere down the line, everybody deems me the unfortunate victim - someone who has been passed on and will never know the pleasure of married life. And guess what...in the same sentence they will crib about their own spouse and the many pitfalls of married life, but hey that’s another topic, they say.

Right from near and distant relatives to well meaning and not so well meaning friends, almost all have the same concern - to see me married. So that they can all say in chorus "Another one bites the dust". It’s as if all the married people in the world are raging a silent war against the single population and they will not rest unless we join the fraternity, unless we pledge alliance to the secret society of unrealized expectations and everlasting nagging.

But now my friends have taken a different approach. One wants me to jot down the qualities that I need in my man so that she can go about looking for one, and a critical search on the many matrimonial websites is on. But she insists on the list, blissfully engrossed in her trousseau shopping. Now...well, my dear friend, if you so insist...here's the list. But let me clarify...My Love Don't Cost a Thing...Well...Really! Here's the tentative list :

1. Should love me, for all that I am and am not.

2. Money (Will make do with a decent amount)
3. Should be witty

4. Body (A reasonable physique will do. No six packs please!)

5. Have a political opinion (if it matches mine, that’s great…but even if it doesn’t-no problem, but should have one… most people I meet don’t have any political opinion of their own. Actually!)

6. Read books…fiction, non fiction, anything...(so that I can borrow and gift him some…it’s the bestest gift idea! But then again, no second hands please...And mind you, here I speak from experience!)

7. Should be passionate about travelingl…Andamans, North East, Backwaters, Ladakh, Rajasthan, Macchu Pichhu...infact....anywhere..!

8. Should have the time and money to go on such trips with me. (Well, if he's busy, I'll adjust. Just his money would do.)

9. Should be in love with both the sea and the mountains

10. Should not be protective or possessive about me

11. Should not talk to me for more than 2 hours in a day. ( And less, if I am NOT in the mood. Random phone calls are a strict no no. And Please, no enquiries about my diet regime, breakfast, lunch, dinner, et al.)

12. Should not be messy
13. Should not throw things on the road
14. Should not encourage beggars
15. Pet peeves would be allowed, but only once in a while.

16. Should be independent
17. Should not be mama’s boy
18. Should have at least one major relationship (That would take the pressure off me)

19. Should be active (one lazybones is enough, read me)
20. Should be practically impractical
21. Should be romantic without being mushy

22. Should love all my my friends

23. Should be willing to be part of my hare brained enterprises
24. Should manage to surprise me
25. Should be willing to yell at me once in a while (once in a while, I repeat)

26. Should be able to spend time with me without talking
27. Should be able to understand my moods
28. Should be able to understand how much he means to me without me ever saying it.

That's all for now. I know you would say, how considerate. But that's what I am, have always been.

And She Lived Happily Ever After

The story in this post was actually forwarded by a very dear friend. I am posting it here with an added post script, the content of which is entirely my view on the 'other' advantages of singlehood. The story goes:

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl 'Will you marry me?' The girl said: 'NO!' And the girl lived happily ever after.

She went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theatre, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.

Dil Dosti Etc

One always thought - love is two people meeting, falling in love and then living happily ever after. This is one movie that shatters the myth. This is real life. There's nothing called love. Just plain sex. Sex, I repeat, and not love making.

The tagline of the film says - When you are young, you believe, the possibilities are endless...
What possibilities...one wonders after the film...possibilities that you can have as many girls as you want, in a day?

This urban flick, directed by Manish Tiwary, juxtaposes the lives of two university hostellers - Apurv (Imaad Shah), a rich listless guy and, Sanjay Mishra (Shreyas Talpade), an old-fashioned Bihari, aspring to make it big in university politics. It's through their story that the director tries to contrast the liberal outlook with the conservative outlook in our society. Through its ensemble cast, the film explores male bonding, voyeurism, sexual perversion, love and of course, betrayal.

But from a personal point of view, the film centres way too much around sex, sex and more sex...and the climax broke my heart. What a shame. Makes one realize that there’s no dearth of likes of Apurvas around us. What say?

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

-- Robert Frost

If You would Say

If you would say -
"You are not good enough"
I would then understand,
and perhaps
nonchalantly move on.

And if you would proclaim
"I am in search of a new game
a fair maiden,
with swaying long hair"
then I'll understand more so
and perhaps say -
I really don't care.

But then if you said
"Me plain bored out of life,
looking for, say
a new emotional strife"
this will amuse me more
and who knows
I may even wish
an abundance of such strifes
to keep you sore.

But then, I would not do that
of course,
have no points to score,
but then
how would you know
you soar to newer strifes,
leaving people sore.

On Some Monologues

Incessant monologues wreck my mind,
But the words come out
In mumbles - incoherent and trite.
To some memories the heart binds
Blanketing, shutting out reason,
It's then that I realise
Wayward is the fancy's flight.

Secret Sorrows

Someone committed suicide today. About a couple of hours back...somewhere around Connaught Place. This man was well educated, financially well off and had recently returned from United States. Wonder what drove him to take such a gruesome step. But then life goes on.... he’ll gradually fade away from everyone's memory.... only for his aging parents perhaps.... tragic for them.... They’ll be devastated, living every moment wondering what went wrong, analyzing their dead son's life bit by bit.... assessing themselves bit by bit…

Then again there's this mad woman who wanders around my hostel. At times, I find her sitting on the footpath, blabbering away.... I wonder what she must be thinking about...who or what drove her to such madness?
Errant son? Death in the family? Wayward husband? Some other family problem? I wonder what has made her so miserable.... There have been days, this winter, when I saw her without a sweater or shawl...without a care in the world. Sitting on the same footpath...blabbering away...Tried coaxing her to shift to the safer side of the footpath...but she wouldn't budge...kept murmuring in a strange language...

Two sad people...sad for different reasons.

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

- H. W. Longfellow

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell

O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

- By John Keats

Indulgence, For Free

Indulgence of all sorts

at your call,
Not much of a strain here,
your choice, in all.

Choose this and choose that
your fancy running free
The world hardly matters,

in your indulgent spree.

Manipulate, cajole or outright reject

whatever the need be

Indulgence of all sorts,
for you, for free.

The Lake Isle of Innsfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

By William Butler Yeats

I Die

Like Byron said -
'I regret my youth'
or the follies should I say
bizzare, stupid and uncouth.
So - to atone the follies I cry,
to ease the pain, I die.

Let's leave this here then.
There's no other regret though
The world is nice
barring a few
The wounds left open, for vultures to pry
And to ease this pain, I die.

Mired Mirages

It's not that we never met,
the past cannot be undone
The mired mirages hurt me more,
then why from the past you run.

Is this the way with you,
the many tales that you spun
Love and lust with betrayal sprayed,
and so from your past you run.

On John Keats

For Keats my pen flows,
This is for them who say
Little imagery the poet shows
His verses near the nature sway.

If only Endymion they read
There are doubts they did that ever
Cause hath not they then realised
That a thing of beauty is a joy forever.

His myriad verses flow and say
of Greek gods and goddesses great
And the earthly trifles that came his way
With profound wisdom in imagination's spate.

Melancholy, solitude and beauty taut,
On diverse fancies his poetry dwelled
Odes he wrote on many a thought
For many a cause, his emotions swelled.

He had his doubts though,
Fears that he may cease to be
Before he could pen his thought flow
Wish his glory he could foresee!

A Footloose Tear

A footloose tear
for the unshared thoughts
left untold
for many a fear.

Wayward tear,
tumbling on its own
straight from the heart
honest and pure.

A footloose tear
for the days gone by
lost bit by bit
seeing love disappear.

Restless tear
can feel it moving
on its own, mindless
of memories held dear.

A footloose tear
for the lost innocence
connivingly taken
with farcical care.

Love is Something Else

Love is something else,
Well now I'd say
One gets the picture
as the cobwebs clear away.

Love is something else,
undefined, they all say
and not just the gush displayed
every ten days.

Love is something else,
when both laugh away
not proving every second
see, I had my way!

Love is something else,
As the great pens portray
unconditional devotion
and commitment all the way.

Yes love is something else
Now I'll say
And not some lousy tea
sipped with masked dismay.

Vagrant

The vagrant at my door
sits, lying low
taking in bread and taunts,
in a skin very sallow.

The vagrant in me
takes this and some more
when waiting for love,
at my lover's door.

For love, a few hugs

For love, a few hugs
and a little kiss,
I let him
Like me.

Heart rose to the occasion, indeed,
And so I liked him,
For love, a few hugs
And a little kiss.