G r e e t Y o u F a r e w e l l

Hi
Today I wanted to experiment a new kind of form. A hybrid of poetry and prose. Let's see how it comes out.

G r e e t Y o u F a r e w e l l

The sun sighs on a brittle afternoon
I inhale it
The motorway hums into a lifeless beat
I relish it

This is my day
Pallid and stowed away

Dusty flakes quiver under cloudless skies
I abide them
Ringleaders wade me past in cynical slides
I salute them

This is my day
I like it this way

Please dont throw me tales of magic
Or poems of love or happy ever afters
Or spotless smiles from children small
Or beaming woods in the glory of fall

I feel pain
No longer numbed
Pain for you
I see but you

Bated is my breath
Jaded is my heart
Wont you hear it well
As I greet you fond farewell

I seek no audience
No cameraderie, no sin
I greet you farewell
Not good morning

I know you ..
You never believe me

I know you from the touch of a grand mother
Her fingers curled in restraint
Caressing on my head,
Her skin creased
Creased as the time, over thoughts

I know you from the sound of the spring
With the song birds behind
The wilderness chirping
To the promises of joy
And the noises that are unheard by us

I know you from the first droplets of rain
The smell of the ground
The ballads of the clouds
Anticipation everywhere
As the forces fight in the heavens, with unfathomable emotions

I know you
I know you when I was born

What should I call you

When the snows melt in the mountains
As the early sun gets reflected
Along with the blueness of the sky
How does the water look..
Is there a name for its color
I will call you thus

When a young baby is born
In the earliest hour as the world welcomes
With the mother sleeping beside
When it smiles, and when it cries..
Is there a name for its emotion
I will call you thus

I dont know ..
I dont know what I should call you

So listen as I give you my greetings
My greetings of fond farewell

Go away

Let me live this day
Dont come in this way
Go away
Go away

S h a d o w s O f L a p u t a

Jonathan Swift, who is a genius far ahead of his times (only comparable to Lewis Carrol) mentioned about a world called Laputa. It's an imaginary place where people take up totally unrealistic projects which are not at all practical. This happens when reality is subjugated to the mental imagination. I am drawing an analogy with this to the much darker problem of submission of human soul.

G r a v i t y O f S h a d o w s

Aloha Laputa
Buena noche de vida
In the light of the Satan
Are shadows awaiting

Alleys so lean and writhing
Bordellos in line alluring
Get up and run through shadows
Give up and run from shadows

Shadows in mind and soothing
Chasing in time endearing
Hacking enticing pulling
They like you, make you nothing

The night of a writer
Reposed in Laputa
As the right of a fighter
And as the sight of a suitor

It's cold and they call it nothing
It's soft - draped in underclothing
It's light and smooth as shadow
Refined and glad and rusting

Darkness..

It's a shape in delusion
A rift and ablution
With rhyming illusion
The closing solution

L o l i t a C i r c u s

Hmm.. Today I got so bloody bored with no one in the lab (everybody off to attend a conference) so I did the craziest thing possible - reading the lyrics of Christina Aguillera, Britney Spears and the like.

Come on.. Can you think of anything worse than that !! But yeah, I came back alive and unscathed.

And here is my response ;)

L o l i t a C i r c u s

Yeah.. My sugar pie
There is a rattle snake in your apple pie
When you look like a bimbo and you say
It's late O' darling ooh ooh ah aah

You walk like a flamingo
When all the guys say bingo
You are ripe down to the seeds
Swing like a flower and go, red dahlia

Baby, you twitter like a baby
Smells like a daisy, chweet baby
Not tonight, sometime may be
Sing and play little barbie, tra la laa laa

Won't you worry about the TV
Won't you worry about your lipstick
Girls like you on the TV
They talk like little beetles, and then they say 'oh yeah'

How gross is this chorus
Sirens in a big circus
Laughing and gaffing, and swaying their hips
Sick and wicked, and wrinkles and sin

Cut it, my lolita
Cuz you swing like a flower but sting like a mamba
Let go my liberty and lock up your puberty
You can have my love, and I will have a lemon tea

S o n g O f M o s e s

Do you remember those nights when you wouldn't get sleep. But loads of images keep running through your eyes with no effort, and seemingly without any end.

I wanted to convey this emotion. So this is what I came up with. Take a look :) and see how awful it is.
This is the first poem I have in this blog I guess !

S o n g O f M o s e s

I walk on, these runes on the sand
As he melts down, the sun on this land
Sad ocean, sits trembling and beyond
I wait here, like stones on the ground

My mother is a queen, she left me to the sea
Borne by the weeds, I am chained but never free
What is love, and what is pure honesty
Is there a name for true empathy

The time, it's never so ripe
So I turn to the sky
To wipe my life, and its pain
But so vain am I, to sigh
I bow to the vast grainy sand
And to the long night, now high

And then I lay still, and wide awake
So very still, and so wide awake

I stroll through forests and rip thorough torrents
I leap through tempests and swipe down currents
So very stil, and so wide awake
So very still, and so wide awake

I taste lightning and the brushwood burning
Grievances so narrow and penances of sorrow

Symphonies in color and dubieties in sake
So very still and so wide awake
So I am the lord, So I am the serf
Self is else, and else is self

M o r e D e l a y

right. A few days .. Thats what I said in my last post. Now its already October. That is 6 months past !! And nothing posted. Yep man. India does this to people. :)

D e l a y

Yes, this is the first time I am blogging in after a 3 months. I am enjoying a long sojourn in India. Watch out for some cool stuff in a few days.

P h i l o s o p h y O f S n o w

Today I wanna share more insights about the philosophy of snow. It has been a month since the winter had its way, so I am able to observe several effects.

The first bad thing about snow is that it melts. Until it melts everything is beautiful and divine, but melting, as Mr.Smith would put it "is not impossible. It is inevitable".

There are several bristly and beastly things which co-occur with the ceremony of melting. As you know from the first law of thermodynamics, if snow has to melt, it needs heat. And where does it get the heat from ? Us. damn. Us. It's already cold, and it makes us colder.

Secondly, the snow accumulates at several interesting places at an elevation from the ground. For example, over the shelters on the bus-stops, and the portico-like thingies outside the windows of highrise buildings. When the snow melts on the underneath (due to several reasons of heat-flow from the ground) the bottom layer gets transformed into a slimy slippery water foil. This triggers a minor avalanche to roll down onto the unsuspecting pedestrian, who consummates the phenomenon by making a foul oath. I never made the foul oath myself, but had the occasion to observe several unfortunate men/women make it.

One major reason why snow melts is because of friction. Yes, friction from the tyres of vehicles on the road. This happens even before the temperature gets any warmer. And this drives some interesting effects. The water thus obtained shall mix with the muddy dirty particles, (the sorta thingies you can notice on entities such as tyres) Then this mixture seeps into the textures of the snow, thus proselytising the pure whiteness into colors of grey, brown, black and other colors of the spectrum.

Now inspite of the smoothness of the roads, and the brilliancy of the drainage system, these muddy plateaus of snow stay glued onto the road. And yes, when a vehicle rushes by in top-speed, it leaves the unsuspecting pedestrian with a highly enjoyable spray of filth. Thus the genre of unsuspecting pedestrians couldn't escape the predicament of their counterparts who live in places such as India.

As the snow melts, it calls the temperature to fall, which in turn causes it to solidify again. Now this cycle occurs several times and through the
process, the fluffy feathers of snow transform into sleet, icicles, white ice/brown ice and become as hard as stones.

On the day of deliverance, the sun shines warm enough to melt away the whole thing, and the meadows become green again, and cease to
resemble widows.

And all the kids would keep waiting for another snowfall, which doesnt keep them waiting for long.

D e a l i n g W i t h S n o w

I guess today it is the first time it snowed decently. This place is what people attribute to be notorious for snowing.
But I came here only this fall and I have never seen snow before.

So you can imagine my excitement when I am watching snow, it first snowed about 10 days ago. But then, it was a very modest snowfall. Today it is very decent.

It is still snowing right now outside my window. Heaps of snow accumulated all over the place and it didnt melt away
like before. For me, this is a great sight. And I am absolutely delighted watching it.

What is snow anyways ! It is water, nothing but that. And water is something which makes you wet, and gives you cold, and makes everything slippery. And snow is worse. It is something which sticks on whatever you ask it to stick to. It sticks on your nose, on the hood of your coat, on the roof tops, on the car tops (the last ones are hilarious, they just make a car look so dumb!)

Now I want to list a few techniques that should be observed in attacking the snow. These things are pretty nontrivial for a warmblooded person who comes from a warm-weathered country.

1) Wipe away the snow. Whenevery you get the chance - when you are waiting in a bus stop, or when you are
entering your house etc.. Because as soon as the climate turns warmer, the snow melts and becomes a big pool of water.
2) Often dry your shoes. Change your socks daily. Because walking over snow is just like swimming. And when shoes
get weet, they make your feet sore
3) Wear gloves. These stupid hands can be so fragile
4) Dont run on the snow. Remember this !! Snow is slippery. Just like a muddy road when it gets soaked in rain. Infact it is more slippier. It is the quintessential part of rapid games like skiing, skating, ice hockey etc. So if you ain't careful, you might slip and reach the velocity of light (thereby causing lots of relativistic effects. Refer to the paper by Mr.A.Einstein)
5) Always watch out for the areas where the snow is melting. Those patches of the ground are the most dangerous.
I never had the opportunity to slide over these and I hope I will never get one. Here there is an interesting departure from our mud analogy. When you walk on a marshy road, you always look for footprints. That is a good heuristic for
identifying the non-slipperyness . But when you walk on snow, NEVER follow footprints. They are invitations for you to slip and do a somersault. Infact look for areas where there is a rough texture of thick snow. You can even run on those
places, if there is enough friction.

Now, everything said and done, I just cant help falling in love with snow. I just dont get it why some people crib about it. It's lot better than rain. It doesn't fall down as fast and as irritatingly. In fact only if there is a windchill thats blowing on your face (which btw is an extreme nonsense) you will find snowflakes hitting you like bullets.
Otherwise they fall down at leisure as if they thoroughly enjoy the ride from the heavens above. Each snowflake takes
a different route in its destiny, flirting through the air and slowly kissing the ground.

Then the trees. I agree that winter is a bad sight after the splendidness of fall. But when these trees are stipped off their leaves, they carry an eerie sense of beauty. I am always awe-struck when I watch these fractal-like offshoots of the twigs and braches which may be having a thousand-fold dimensional complexity - just affirming our beliefs that nature is the best artist and the best architect.

Now when the snow falls on these trees, they have this beautiful white shadow which runs through their edges,
It feels like seeing the whole world in a 3D pencil sketch.

And the ground. It is a huge vast sea of whiteness. And at night, a distant lamp post on the other side of the world makes this whole expanse radiate with a smooth glow of orange. And at day, that is a more marvelous sight .
If there's some bright sunlight, you feel as if you are walking into a huge diamond. The world is just so pure, so pristine.

The earth looks just like a bride in love. Quoting my native tongue "shobhanam gadi lo pelli koothuru la"

Anyways, this is about it. I have to put a period to this, and should go and play some snowballing. Now, after you read
all this and if you conclude that I am gay, hmm.. the disappointment will be yours.

T h e L a s t B a t t l e

Ever wondered what is the final battle you fight ? No it is not with death. It happens much earlier. After this battle, you are pretty much a useless vegetable.

T h e L a s t B a t t l e

".. The commander stood up and looked in through his field glasses. The terrain was rough, and he could see several thickets where the enemy could ambush. His troops had a fatiguing journey, the last few months being the ones which demanded extreme vigilance and efforts.

He put the glasses aside and looked at his troops. A few were trying to eat what remained of their morsels; their rations were quickly running short. The others were lying down crouching on their backs. But everybody was awake.

The commander rose to speak to them, his voice was deep but very clear.

"Soldiers. You shall rest today. However I need a few of you to help me survey the territory - carefully avoiding the eyes of the enemy. And by this late evening, we shall be ready with the plan for the offence. But we cannot afford to make any mistakes now."

The weather was rough, the early onset of winter brought with it the cold chill from the plains below. A thin shower of snow put a coarse blanket in between the two fighting parties. There was no interruption in the weather in the past week. This had tremendously delayed the battle, and the soldiers were growing restless. His troops had survived major losses. Some of the commander's best men were lost in the last battle.

Their army was outnumbered by the enemy, but had crucial advantages - in weapons and training. But they were losing out on the most important factor. Time, and it was running fastly against them. The commander could feel the fatigue of his troops. Yes, he realized, the soldiers did not have the energy that they possessed before. He did not anticipate that the offence shall be delayed by this long.

His senior lieutanant approached him, with his report on the weaponry. But before he could speak, he stumbled upon the eyes of his captain. They were not the same.

He knew his commander for long, and deeply admired his calibers. And he remembered the twinkle that always rested upon his eyes. But that day, those eyes were different, and spoke nothing of the childlike excitement that he always felt. They were dark instead, and were reflecting the dark clouds which were looming overhead in the sky.

There was something in the air, something very ominous. And this something made the lieutenanat sad.

"Lieutenant, I wish to speak to you in private"

"Yes Sir"

"These are my orders. Listen with attention."

"Yes Sir"

"In the case of looming defeat in the battle, collect all the weapons and take half the best men in your command."

"Yes Sir"

"Immediately evacuate the frontier and lead them back into the plains. Do this when I am still fighting."

"Sir. But this will be paramount to defecting."

"You are right Lieutenant. But this is what I am ordering you to do."

"Sir. This will be against my alleigance to the army."

"Lieutenant. Do you have the authority to question my intelligence ?"

"No Sir. You are my superior."

"And this is my command."

A cold wind started blowing from the hills. The soldiers started moving towards shelter in the rocks.

The commander squatted down to the floor, and begun thinking deeply. He was planning for the offence, the lieutenanat knew that. He always felt awed by the conquests of his commander. But he had never seen him so tired, so helpless, so eager for ... He wished the next day will turn in their stride.

But they never made the offence the next day. The offence was made by the enemy. And that was done meticulously in the night. The next day turned out to be the last day of the battle."

"And what happened on the last day ?", asked the little girl.

"So dear, that was how your grandpa got married."

"But grandma, you are not telling me what happened on the last day !"

"Hush darling. Now go to sleep. Because it is too violent to tell."

T h e F o u r t h L a n e

Okay :) Check it out


T h e F o u r t h L a n e

"Mommy, I want it"

"What ?"

..

"What ? ? ... Stop bugging and speak out"

"The toy"

"Shut up and get ready for school"

"But you promised to get it to me. Yesterday.."

"Listen, you little rascal. I would be happy to get it for you. But I told you. I dont have time. And they dont sell that thing anymore besides in that god forsaken shop. Why dont you just pick up something on the internet ?"

The old man turned uneasily over his bed, his sleep disturbed.

"And I have asked your grandad to pick it up. And here the lazy boy, he wouldn't leave the bed even for the sake of the pot. Now can you please shut up if that's making my life easy."

There was something about his daughter that sharply reminded him of his wife. The old lady had been dead for 5 years then, but he was still reminded of her, especially when in times like this.

He was brought back from the seniors' home. That was two months ago, when his daughter divorced her husband. It was an unhappy marriage, the third one in a row. But this was unlike her mother, he mused. Her mother had only one unhappy marriage.

He got up. And walked towards the little girl.

"Look darling, go to school. This evening, I promise I'll take you there"

So that evening, the old man walked out the house. This was after a long time, may be after two months, maybe even longer, he couldn't say. He was losing his memory.

They lived in a high rise building, on the sixth floor. His room overlooked the busy seventh avenue. And beyond into the far, he could faintly see the uptown. But he never had the occasion to walk outside.

The toy-shop was in the fourth lane, and it was a fair enough walk. He was not very sure if he could do that with ease. But he had the company of the little girl, and that kept him happy.

"Hmm.. darling. Do the little girls play with toys even now ? "

Whenever the grandpa asked her a question, the little girl always got confused. Her answer was always simple. But she got confused before she could answer.

"Yes grandpa"

"But how did you see that thing in the first place ? "

"Oh ! I found it with one of my friends after the school. She wouldn't give me. The bitch. But I found where she got it from ", the little girl giggled.

And where did she get it from ? The Old Buxons Toy Shop. That was an ancient establishment on the Fourth Lane. He heard about it, but he'd never been there. In fact, he never had anything to do with toys.

And rather, he never had anything to do with the Fourth Lane. Crossing the Fourth Lane, that never crossed his mind ! The solicitors' office that he used to work, that was not on the Fourth Lane. And his wife or his parents, they never lived on the Fourth Lane. And the occasional pub that he used to go to, that was not on the Fourth Lane.

Finally, they arrived at the place. The little girl led him inside.

With importance, she walked to the manager and spoke something. And the old man was pleasantly smiling, watching her.

"Oh, Young lady !! We do not keep that stuff anymore. I think the last one was sold out years ago. We are sorry "

"No sir. I believe somebody made a purchase just few weeks back. Please check again"

The old man was smiling.

One of the employees was overhearing the conversation, and he barged in, chuckling.

"Well dear ! You are right. There are some of them, lying here. But hidden somewhere. We do not know where to find them though.. Hmm.. But you can do one thing, you can make a call to the old lady who works here. She knows, but she comes only occasionally"

So the old man dialed up a number and waited.

"Hello. Who is speaking ?"

It was an odd voice, one that you find very rarely amongst people - one which has lots of happiness blended into it, and hearing which makes you smile even before you could notice.

"Well.. Here my grand-daughter is looking for a toy.. Thank you.. Yes she would be delighted ... Yes, it is so nice of you... I know.. these children.. Yes I will hand this over to Bob"

And then Bob was back with the toy in a few minutes. The old man picked up the phone again.

"Sir, I would have been happy to fetch it myself... Oh no. It is a pleasure.. I would love to see the darling.. It's so nice of you to walk all the way for this... Yes, say my Hi to her... Have a nice evening"

"Yes Ma'm. You are such a dear.. Have a good night"

And then, the tired old man and the delighted little girl came back home, both smiling.

The old man retired into his room, but something was not right. Yes, his closet was missing. With impotent anger and deep hurt, he walked into the main room.

"Right old boy. I had to empty that out. You dont need that stupid box anymore."

"But dear, all my dearest things are in there."

"Yes ! But stop sulking. Your past is as good as it is lying inside that trash"

So the old man walked to the trash, and picked up those totally unworthy things from his totally unworthy past ... that old notebook of law, that slightly broken baseball bat, that small wooden flute which he never learned how to play, and some random little things. And this old black coat which he wore till its own old age got it into the closet.

Instinctively, he felt inside its pockets. Nothing ! But inside the breast pocket, there was an envelope. It was dated forty years back. "These little things.. they just lie inside the breast pockets.", the old man chuckled. Then he found it was still sealed.

Startled, he opened it up.

"Dear young man
Yeah ! I am the little red haired girl on the commuter train, that you were so desperately trying to flirt with !! Yes, I still have that stupid caricature of mine that you drew. So what do you say about coffee this evening ? At the corner on the Fourth Lane ?"