Kreation

Rainbows in the Sky

2012-02-10T19:10:00.001+05:30

She will remember how every evening

her father helped her paint, while

Mumma prepared her favorite dishes

Just as her father remembers her exuberant

voice, returning from school

with yet another prized drawing.

Unable even to see her precious face,

he lamented the darkness in his life

It was Rainbows in the Sky

they always or never drew together.

When Harry Met Sally in 60seconds!

2012-02-07T20:35:00.000+05:30

Birthday Blues

2012-02-01T23:00:00.003+05:30

Today's my birthday.

It pretty much blew.

Ok bye.

The night is your friend

2011-12-19T13:49:00.000+05:30

(Starry Night on the Rhone by Vincent Van Gogh)

There is nothing to be afraid.

The night is your friend

My friend

Our friend

When the curtains of death close upon you

Think of the beige moon

Of heaven's high bowers that await

Your misty breath

Upon the icy petals

Of roses and dandelions

For there lies a brighter morrow

When the sun rises

In your final home

Where they all await

When silence stealthily creeps over all whispers

Just sing yourself this song

Fill the night with music

And travel on.

Rapture

2011-11-20T23:10:00.001+05:30

a folly yet disfavored

even as skewed perceptions

drive her on unwavered

to claim what is rightfully hers

albeit a little tipsy

a tiger that gingerly purs

when gently stroked

plumb, he just lay there

and she, provoked

worked her magic

and turned what once was

a tale of love: tragic

the miasma then engulfed

veiled her consummation

while his shrieks

played a melody with her laughter

and the howling winds

drowned it all.

(Originally published on Mihir Vatsa's blog in response to Kichkinni.)

Bad Punnery

2011-11-14T20:20:00.001+05:30

It's raining cats and dogs.

Well, as long as it doesn't reindeer.

When it comes to big arm chairs

I have a deep-seated fear.

Chairs are meant to be chairished

Royal chairs are rarely throne out

Those two duchesses arguing about their husbands?

They decided to duke it out.

Now, politicians have a talent

They double-cross each bridge

The plumber explained that the problem in my

kitchen was just water under the fridge.

But since we’ve reached the kitchen

I must dish out some advice

Do not believe what you hear

About fleas and ticks -- it's all lice

Never ask a boxer for a drink

Because they're tight fisted.

Poor sweep who tried was thrown down

A chimney, and was black-listed.

You’d be surprised to hear what

Really got this all started

‘Twas two peanuts who walked into a bar

And one of them was a-salted

I Write of Those Who Give Me Gold

2011-10-31T18:25:00.002+05:30

“The destiny and history of nations -

Corroding, compromising

Raided, deranged, derailed;

The machines have churned out

Great two dimensional heroes.

The poet stands alone.”

Through blood he wades

Towards the crown

Dead and gone

Vanity of human wishes

Of silken cloth

Of laced up boots

Leading on doom

Disaster.

Unloved, unmissed, unremembered

No graves, no wood to burn

No vultures either

“Privileged, you want to live?

Project, what?

God – he dead;”

Epitaph –

‘Here lies a poet’

Accepting commitment,

Reasonable pride is motivation enough

That impetus is now gone

Clinging to dedications

Growing, revolving

Shrieking in the wilderness

No voice, no words

“Progress, then?

What about the land?

Did it sprout gold?

Elucidate -

Duly justified in terms of human content.”

Analysts, economists

They don’t know

The poet stands still

Talking about all you know and more

No break, no disjunction

“I do not write of the poet

Disillusioned, embittered, lost

I write of those who give me gold.”

Three Blind Mice

2011-10-27T22:50:00.002+05:30

To S, M and A

Not necessarily in that order

***

Credit

One of them

Resolved to live with it

Because the roads in ‘Lore

Are unlike the Capital’s.

And now he’d rather shut up,

Unless interrogated.

He knows not what he looks for

Knows not what to do

He does know this –

That he is not to be known.

The other, meanwhile,

Puffed in cancer

Breathing out fear

Of failing to meet up

His preset paradigm

With the kid dead

And mother unaware

What yarn could he spin,

So Consciousness would let him live

Both his and William’s

The third, in the meantime,

Is living in his own sweet bubble

Speaking a language

He doesn’t understand.

The ghost of days gone by

Haunts him still;

So he just travels

From mountains to deserts

Lighting candles

Wherever he goes.

Birthday and Launch (Seven Deadly Sins)

2011-09-24T09:50:00.001+05:30

Happy 4th birthday to Kreation!

I'm not going to launch into the long and complicated history this blog and I have shared, nor will I sit down and make a list of why I love it so. All that is self-explanatory. For the last year or so, the blog has been more or less dormant but I have been posting fairly regularly again and I intend on continuing this practice (yes, even if it means replying on excessively nonsensical tags to keep it going).

Four years ago, launching this blog was my first attempt at finding readers who were not my poor classmates bullied into reading and appreciating my (then, and possibly still, crappy) poetry. Now, four years later - and indeed it is so appropriate that this happens on the exact same day as ol' Kreation's birthday - my first ever published work is out.

Agreed, it is not entirely mine; the anthology Seven Deadly Sins includes short stories by a bunch of talented writers. This endeavour began as a contest by Serene Woods Publication judged by Mithun Mukherjee of De-Scribe - author of Cold Feet and Revenge. The winning entries were compiled into a book and Seven Deadly Sins was born. the book will officially be launched by Guracharan Das of India Unbound fame.

You're all welcome to the launch!

Note: A slight change in schedule... the event starts at 4:30 pm.

Buy your copy of the book here!

A Wednesday

2011-09-11T10:37:00.001+05:30

- Ode to September 7

So, it shook -
Heavens in the morning
Earth at night.

Bloody possessions, torn limbs
Spattered intestines and mangled bones
Of the morn’s proletariats
Metamorphosed brusquely
To flustered, frightened flocks of
Nightwalkers
In this happening city.

Black-robed made way for the dead
The dead for the grieving
The grieving for
The nightgown-and-shorts-clad.
Victims one minute,
Revellers another.

‘Mild’ and ‘slight’
Were the adjectives used
By those
With their mugshot—likenesses
Plastered over the screens.
Nothing to worry about, you see
11 dead, 74 injured
It was the exceptional one per cent.
Then again,
4.2 on the Richter is nothing.
Go home.
Sleep well.

Mere twelve hours
And the city shook
Twice.
Mere twelve hours.

Both times
Death whisked past us
It chose, instead –
Others, with more to lose perhaps

Both times we turned
To Twitter and Facebook
To maintain our sanity.

Day 8 of GYABOYB

2011-09-10T21:42:00.002+05:30

Day 8: A song to match your mood

What a perfect little treat this!

If only the rest of the tag was as good.

As it happens, today's a day for irritation. Mum had some altercation with Pop yesterday (usual crap, nothing serious) and she has been irritated since. Then, her tailor ruined a very expensive salwar-kameez and she was even more irritated. Now all this is perfectly normal and I can easily put up with it - her - without losing my cool even though she takes out her frustration on me. I have a Rhino's hide, ha!

But no, things didn't stop at that. Cherry on top, she was bitten by a centipede this morning and her frustration reached a new high even as her hand swelled to double its size and turned a nasty purple color. When at home, I cannot, umm, let's say, I cannot express myself in a certain way I prefer, and I've been at home for two days straight now. Tempers are building up, frustration is the word of the day, escapist tendencies are setting in. People have, mercifully, called it a day and retired to their respective rooms. Here I am, locked up in mine, listening to

Day 7 of GYABOYB

2011-09-09T21:11:00.003+05:30

Day 7: Your dream wedding

I don't dream of weddings.

'Nuff said.

********

MV, you are not allowed to comment on this.

Day 6 oh GYABOYB or "I will kill the person who came up with this tag"

2011-09-08T20:18:00.000+05:30

No, seriously. Why the fish are there so many goddamn photographs!

It is the most lame-ass tag I ever in the history of mankind.

Wait. I opted for it, didn't I?

*awkward silence*

Damn.

Anyway, here goes -

Day 6: A photo of an animal you'd love to keep as a pet.

Duly cropped and not-photoshopped, we present to you - Kiki!

That's a guinea pig. Yes, those are my hands. I am aware of my fat fingers, thank you.

But usual crap aside, this is the cutest little thing I've ever seen and I WANT ONE! This one belongs to my sexy girl-friend. They do eat and shit like crazy, but that's tolerable. I suppose?

Day 4 (skipped) and Day 5 of GYABOYB

2011-09-07T11:17:00.001+05:30

Day 4 required me to put up my favorite photograph of my best friend. I'm pseudo-suicidal, not dumb. The photograph can be found here. If you can't view it, you're not entitled to... That's kinda the point of private blogs.

Now to Day 5!

Day 5 - A photo of yourself two years ago.

This was easy. all I had to do was go through my facebook profile picture until I found one from two years ago. And here it is -

This was officially the best hairstyle I've ever had, in my entire life!
Ah! Fond memories.

That's it. I'm done for today. See you tomorrow, peeps. (Ha! Who am I kidding. Nobody visits the blog anymore.)

Day 3 of GYABOYB

2011-09-05T22:53:00.002+05:30

Day 3: Your idea of the perfect first date.

Honestly? This is perhaps the most difficult thing on the list. Not so much because I went through a weird and bitter break-up earlier this year, but more so because I don't think I've been on a date. Ever. To tell you the truth, the very concept is beyond the scope of my understanding. Every time someone asks me about my idea of a perfect first date or about my favorite one, I have to request them to define 'date' for me... and as you may as well have guessed, the results have been rather disappointing. No, I still don't know what a 'date' would essentially constitute and I definitely don't have a 'favorite' or 'ideal' date.

But, if I had to, absolutely had to (in the 'my life depends on this' sort of a way) answer that question, I'd say my favorite 'date' would constitute pulling an all-nighter (you know, coffee, smokes, hot muffins, et al) right before an important paper presentation. Note: I say paper presentation, i.e. a seminar, because let's face it, exams involve cramming. Yes, even when you're doing a post-grad in English Literature. This is India, let's not kid ourselves... but I digress. Exams involve cramming and with the person sitting next to you, focusing on cramming an entire year's worth of crap is fighting an uphill battle.

*****

Just FYI, Day 3! Three continuous posts in three days! *whistles*

Day 2 of GYABOYB: Guilty as charged

2011-09-04T21:48:00.000+05:30

Day 2: A photo of something you ate today.

Erm, well, umm....

This morning I woke up with all intentions of clicking a photo of my scrumptious breakfast. Hot pakoras and tea. But by the time I actually sat down to eat, I was ravenous and all thoughts of the blog and photograph had conveniently made space for this one: "FOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD"

When I was done I remembered the photograph and promised myself to click one at lunch. Long story short, there was no lunch. Why? Didn't I say the breakfast was pakoras? :D

After some heavy reading (no kidding, that book must weigh atleast a good kg... perhaps more), a heavenly siesta and a trip to the tailor's, I was all excited for the dinner and committed to the task of getting a photograph for sure this time.

I forgot. :-|

When it is kadhi-chawal (especially when it is chawal... it being a rare luxury in your life (some allergy, don't ask)), you are entitled this slight dereliction of duty, no? Again, by the time I was done, it was the breakfast story all over again. There was a nagging blogpost but no food. But since I HAD to put a picture of something I had today, here's one:

Drinking even as I type. Cheers!

Day 1: Trumpets (GYABOYB)

2011-09-03T21:25:00.000+05:30

And thus, we begin this ~~ordeal~~ brilliant tag which shall hence forth be referred to GYABOYB - Get Your Ass Back On Your Blog.

For Day One- A photo of yourself and a description of how your day was

Photograph? Alright. Makes sense. Here is one that I took a few days ago.

If you're wondering why those glasses are so-friggin-huge (and you should!), it's because they are 3D glasses. I nicked them off when I went to watch, umm, some movie... my memory fails me.

As for how was my day... It was as uneventful a day as possible. Went to college, attended classes (the ones I like to attend, i.e.), spent a couple of hours hanging around the *sutta lane* (fag lane), ****** (can't tell, apologies), had a very lively discussion on Plato's Republic, returned home, slept and woke up after a weird dream.

As I write, I have been asked to refer to MV, who is currently telling me about his weird dreams involving certain professors, overnight stays in toilets, and deer and jackal

That's it for tonight, folks!

P.S.: This is not half as fun as I thought it would be. *grunts*

Because 'I am back' posts are redundant and so are 'tags'

2011-09-01T23:50:00.000+05:30

No use skirting around the issue, let's admit it, this blog has seen as little action as Anna Hazare's digestive tracts of late (note to self: all attempts at cracking jokes are hereby prohibited). I had been stumbling around in the dark when darling Iggy took up this interesting challenging and the light at the end of the tunnel practically blinded me (please excuse any typos). The idea is to be able to finish the challenge, regardless of whatever happens (badam bam bam)...hopefully, I'd be ashamed to stop posting after being deathly regular for a month. *fingers crossed*. Procrastination, shoo!

The rules go like this:

Day 1 – A photo of yourself and a description of how your day was.
Day 2 – A photo of something you ate today.
Day 3 – Your idea of the perfect first date.
Day 4 – Your favorite photograph of your best friend.
Day 5 – A photo of yourself two years ago.
Day 6 – A photo of an animal you’d love to keep as a pet.
Day 7 – Your dream wedding.
Day 8 – A song to match your mood.
Day 9 – A photo of the item you last purchased.
Day 10 – A photo of your favourite place to eat.
Day 11 – What’s in your makeup bag.
Day 12 – A photograph of the town you live in.
Day 13 – Your favorite musician and why?
Day 14 – A TV show you’re currently addicted to.
Day 15 – Something you don’t leave the house without.
Day 16 – Your celebrity crush.
Day 17 – A photo of you and your family.
Day 18 – Something you crave a lot.
Day 19 – Another picture of yourself.
Day 20 – The meaning behind your blog name.
Day 21 – A photo of something that makes you happy.
Day 22 – A letter to someone who has hurt you recently.
Day 23 – 15 facts about you.
Day 24 – A photo of something that means a lot to you.
Day 25 – What’s in your purse?
Day 26 – A photo of somewhere you’ve been to.
Day 27 – A picture of you last year and now and how you changed since then?
Day 28 – Your favorite movie.
Day 29 – Something you could never get tired of doing.
Day 30 – A photograph of yourself today + three good things that have happened in the past 30 days

Oh, and I'll begin tomorrow, or day after. Certain photos that the tag expects me to put up might instead find their way over at Chaos. Since Chaos is a private blog, this part should be self-explanatory.

Blood is tastier

2011-08-15T01:11:00.001+05:30

Try it with chocolate. ;-)

No Peachy, no.

2011-06-25T23:38:00.002+05:30

Life is not peachy. Life is never peachy.

And when there's no hope, there really is no point living.

But when there's no hope, there's nothing left to die for either.

Nostalgia.

2011-06-07T10:56:00.000+05:30

Perhaps it was better not to have friends. To not have a few numbers you know you can call no matter the time of the day... Those were the times this blog saw any action.

Sigh.

Think.

2011-05-24T21:56:00.002+05:30

Quite strange it is
For that which makes us
top of the food chain
one of its kind
king of the world
is also what takes
from us the very ability
to be what we can be
should be
could be.

To think
that thoughts are what make us
and those thoughts then break us
into tiny pieces of fragmented glass
shedding blood of those we once loved

even as they walk away
leaving crimson footprints
on our hearts.

Substitute

2011-05-23T00:30:00.001+05:30

The man who will never admit I was one.

Heard your laughter

After a long time today

I had

Almost

Forgotten the sound of it.

The sound

That once used to

Drive me crazy

Still does, like it did today

But alas,

She brings out the best in you now

And I’m reduced

To shadows

Forced to watch

Mute, helpless

Even as you slip away

Slowly…

I see you go

And never turn back.

Perhaps the pain

Would be less

Had it been just you

But she’s in the picture too

And the pain I feel is a different kind of pain.

(Written on October 31st, 2009, everything in this poem proved a prophecy of sorts and came true on January 29th, 2011.)

Ode to sleep

2011-05-13T22:46:00.000+05:30

Saucy mistress, she!

Enticing and tempting me so

With gentle, merry, mellifluous dreams

And Keats’ things of beauty-

The young tree, mid-forest brake and streams

Saucy mistress, she

Liar! The embodiment of deceit!

The slightest commotion and away she fled

The dreams, the peace, all woebegone

Left – the death grip of unrest and dread

I waited, with baited

Breath, I waited. Familiar with the gloom

Her virgin embrace I seeked, and wept.

Called out to the Gods, my beloved, the mistress

It must have worked! Because finally, I slept!

Margins

2011-04-29T11:51:00.001+05:30

*****

The poem has been duly removed at the behest of one Mr. Scholesy who has - most kind of him, most kind -decided to publish it in his literary journals, Scibbler's Gazzette.

It will be back up in a few months.

*****

Author's note: Written in response to Aniket's post, this poem will (naturally) make more sense if you read his as well.

Kreation

Rainbows in the Sky

When Harry Met Sally in 60seconds!

Birthday Blues

The night is your friend

Rapture

Bad Punnery

I Write of Those Who Give Me Gold

Three Blind Mice

Birthday and Launch (Seven Deadly Sins)

A Wednesday

Day 8 of GYABOYB

Day 7 of GYABOYB

Day 6 oh GYABOYB or "I will kill the person who came up with this tag"

Day 4 (skipped) and Day 5 of GYABOYB

Day 3 of GYABOYB

Day 2 of GYABOYB: Guilty as charged

Day 1: *Trumpets* (GYABOYB)

Because 'I am back' posts are redundant and so are 'tags'

Blood is tastier

No Peachy, no.

Nostalgia.

Think.

Substitute

Ode to sleep

Margins

Day 1: Trumpets (GYABOYB)