The light shines the brightest

You aren't that genius

2012-02-21T09:28:00.002+05:30

You aren't that genius-
One with scrawly handwriting,
With an inept deducing glace,
To be born on a special day.

You aren't that genius-
Struck by sudden thought,
Ignoring and leaping over logic,
Convention with primordial moratorium.

You aren't that genius-
Who can paint beauty,
Rendering words obsolete,
Daring to throw colours in the dark.

You aren't that genius-
Who can compose
Inordinate sounds to
Pose divinity into a note.

You aren't that genius-
Who can bend time to a sum;
Bring together the unseen
To a scrawl on a rough paper.

You aren't that genius;
You aren't what you want to be,
You aren't what you suppose,
You aren't anachronistic or an iconoclast.

You aren't that genius,
Which the papers would talk about,
Which galleries will present;
To have a statue at Tussaud's.

You aren't that genius,
Your mother wished you to be,
Your friends wished you weren't,
You thought you are.

You aren't that genius,
You are just another writer,
Yet another painter,
With a different signature.

You aren't that genius,
You aren't a talisman to this era,
Or a zeitgeist among diffident opprobrium.
You aren't a maverick.

You aren't that genius,
You exist on the breaches of a party,
Smuggling petty thoughts to
Write, Draw, Carve and Delight.

You aren't that genius,
You merely exist, sometimes live,
And one day shall be buried or burnt,
Without much going amiss.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The Swing

2012-01-16T13:59:00.001+05:30

This swing,
That has hung here forever.

I bend my knees and plant my foot
On the mosaic tiles, I kick
And rise higher.

The wind rushes through the window grills
With a fleeting insistence; Hits the face
With nostalgia of hot, powerless summer nights.

This flight-
As my hands reach for the ceiling fan-
The same moment, lived again;
Yet never before, as a four-o-clock
Falls slant on a four-legged teak chair.

The effervescent, the grotesque world
Of colourless television, Of radios,
Of phones with circular dials,
Of careless dreams, Of acting,
Of heroics, Of the days
you went higher than the previous.

The growth,
Daydreams of endless flight,
To the moon, the planets,
To the distant places of kings,
Demons, barbarians and anglophiles.

This swing,
It is here. The same chains that creak.
The blunt triangles and rectangles,
The swan like hook strung through
The circular holders, held by the tension,
Since your granddad told you about it.

The candle lit shadows, of games,
Of incorrigible numbers, Of fastidious
ambitions, of marginal reverences,
Of confidence and leaps.

The furniture breaks, the walls change,
The swing, firm without dust, remains.

I kick again.

The Light Shines The Brightest

This is where hope comes from

2011-12-10T13:57:00.001+05:30

This is where hope comes from-
Past the crumpling paint of decadent buildings,
Past the lazy coconut trees with still crows,
Past the satellite aerials of empty terraces.

This is where hope comes from-
The transition from a green to a red,
The mechanical measure of blind turns,
The ordered chaos of the city's traffic.

This is where hope comes from-
The fear induced restrain of stray dogs,
The aimless loiter of garbage eating cows,
The packed roads of a festive market.

This is where hope comes from-
The loaded buses and stuffed taxis,
The crumpled shirts of everyday heroes,
The water lorries racing against the traffic.

This is where hope comes from-
Big white cars with flags on the bonnet,
The empty trains on the lay-by,
Lonely planes traversing a cloudless sky.

This is where hope comes from-
The countless sand on the beach,
The underwritten rhythm of the waves,
The colossal colonial buildings.

This is where hope comes from-
The sauntering solitude,
The shimmering silence
And the wind breathing slowly.

This is where hope comes from-
The stations of cascading clamor,
The dying canal and stories of glory,
Palaces and tales of crushing foes.

This is where hope comes from-
The hegemonic game and its numbers,
The statues of servants of the imperial,
The omnipresent superstars of silver screen.

This is where hope comes from-
The poster-ed politicians and the manifesto,
The octatonic music and presiding deities,
The blaring speakers of road side meetings.

This is where hope comes from-
The house of ghosts and broken cycles,
The wells of change cemented,
Trees uprooted and planted.

This is where hope comes from-
A place where I belong,
A place of growth and dreams,
Of failure and learning.

This is where hope comes from-

Some call it Chennai,
Some call it Madras,
I call it home.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Where the four roads meet

2011-11-20T14:26:00.001+05:30

Where the four roads met
On a silent Saturday night,
There was no honking,
Only flashing headlights.

The stray dogs slept
Under the twisted road signs,
With shadows of neon lights
From pharmacies of all night.

The garbage of the day,
Spun in frilling patterns;
The chocolate wrappers,
Shimmered deep into the eyes.

The few trees stood eerie quiet,
As the fire burned still, cooking rice;
Plastic cups strew around the bins,
A crisp smoke rising from tired lips.

Crumbled dreams, abandoned,
Lurk in the eyes of drunkards,
While wheels of frenzy, screech
As the road takes a sharp turn.

Sirens in the distance,
Hurry away to rescue
Anything of that dream,
You had when you were a child.

Sirens in the distance,
Approach to patrol,
The by-lanes of parallel roads,
To check the dark recesses of your life.

The park stood in a collected breath,
Waiting for the sleepless crows
To cry one last time
And then to fall again to a nightmare.

The djinns prowled in vapours,
They caressed the dead,
Took away the heedless souls,
Possessing anything that could be.

Beneath a pale moon,
Glasses rang in collision,
As words, hugs and handshakes,
Sealed friendships, never to part again.

Where the four roads met
On a silent Sunday night,
There was no honking,
Only flashing headlights.

The Light Shines The Brightest

A festival

2011-10-29T08:58:00.000+05:30

As iridescent lights crackle the sky
Emerging from tiny holders within the suffocating smog,
A slow drizzle rattles the frame of the aircon-
dripping pertinent onto the cemented ground.

Aura of festive exhilaration,
A collective breath of forced hope;
Vindictive noise, dispelling, reminding,
Myths of forgotten ages, old and new.

The heat lacks the fight-
Heroes and villains invade homes,
With merry victory over vanity
And the dark moonless night.

Not all is lost as draped beliefs
Play out a montage of tired history,
Shared by a umbilical cord
Of grit and survival across distances.

To sever not the runes of ruined times,
When the crops danced in ignorant bliss
Taxed by lords of many seas,
Orchestrated by those shoved into the slur.

A joy founded on the hopeless misery of existence,
Dominated, weighed down by the coils of time,
The chains of unashamed masochism,
Worn with subservient anguish.

As iridescent lights crackle the sky
Emerging from tiny holders within the suffocating smog,
The world labors on, unaware, living the moment,
With mythical belief and pride in its past misery.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The Dedication

2011-10-04T09:02:00.000+05:30

Even as whispers contrive gossip,
The broken emotions stir a strength.
The tampered tiles of self-belief,
Fill the gaps and seize brows of marked worry.

The rickety wheels of an forgotten era
Turn once more and again and again,
Even as windmills of current, swirl
In the whimsical breezes of a timeless flow.

The land tilled by sweat and planted,
Poses a still before it fissures, breaks
And is blown away as crumbled wishes
Into the black eyes of a passing stranger.

The perfidious roads sudden throw a bump,
Even as the wicked curves of certain tarmac
Lay await for the gilded souls to enter the
Service roads from a forgotten village.

The puffed waters crash with a fury,
As if all the world's problems they carry
Are smitten loaded on to rocks whose
Knees creak a bit more under the gush.

The tide awakens and dreams,
Unhindered by need, want or thirst,
Into the shores, malign with force
Begot from meditation under the dark moon.

Clock towers vindicate and strike,
A second more and another and another
Tick by oblivious to the drunk men
Who lean aside on its port side.

The trains bound on tracks,
Carry the burden of generations
To places far away, unknown-
Those that cannot be found on the horizon.

As the sun sets behind a veil of evening clouds,
The stars of every hopeless night, shine bright,
Telling tales of the dedication, which they too had
For the universe and the worlds they served.

And as the lighthouse comes on to guide
The mariners of past, present and future,
The waves eat the sands once more
And carve the rocks yet again.

The vendors selling pirated glasses
And empty sea shells with the sound of oceans,
Gibe at the world with faithless smirks
Deep embedded in unknown fantasies.

On a morrow a stream is to be born,
Through the rocks of hard fate,
Feeding birds of prey, leading,
Flowing into the ocean of faith.

The Light Shines The Brightest

I stood still

2011-09-04T14:21:00.000+05:30

I pick up the broken sticks and lay them straight.
I rearrange them in a square, as a kite, as a diamond.

I pick up grains of sand as my wet feet dry,
they hold tales long forgotten by man or any other.

I pick up the loose threads thrown away,
They talk of clothes they were made to be.

I pick up the broken glass with dried blood-
I see that violence that shattered it.

I pick up the wax from a burnt out candle-
It feels cold and waits for a day to melt away.

I pick up a torn piece of paper,
It had someone's will scribbled.

I caught a rain drop from a little cloud,
It talked about lands unknown.

I picked up an ant, it tried to run away,
I held it; It bit me and in a fury, I almost crushed it.

I caught a butterfly, it stood still.
We saw each other and I let it flutter away.

I stood still.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Shadows

2011-08-21T16:21:00.001+05:30

Dancing shadows-
They leap and spin around;
Thrown by lights,
They prance, unbound.

Ignited by oils of fragrance,
Little wicks in contention, burn,
Ruthless and flaming,
Camphorous mirages of a yearning.

Bokehs of light shimmer in respite,
Till you see your nightmares walk away alive.
Flashes of instinct and grays of panic,
There is always a shadow nearby.

The torches- they hunt-
They look through the Satin curtains,
Into the penumbra of your granddad's chair,
But the shadows slip and run conspicuously.

The streetlights dimly show a path,
And shadow's four follow you in parts;
They wait, in eager, fastidiously,
For the moment you walk past in a hurry.

Headlights that blind all eyes,
They cast shadows from within,
Deep into the roads of the city,
Hiding potholes of forgettable dreams.

In every light, they wait,
Ministers of souls that cannot agitate,
They cast your lies alive,
Even as your search for a comforting shade.

The darkness that possesses the glitter-
With calming hopeless fury and poise,
They record lives with a chronicler's voice,
In neat impressive slanting calligraphy.

Voiceless wraiths of all that ever was,
They scale the brinks of existence,
Like the paint on dead buildings,
Waiting to be resurrected, conceived again.

Dancing shadows-
They leap and spin around;
Thrown by lights,
They prance, unbound.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The sledging reality

2011-08-06T00:50:00.001+05:30

The sledging reality-
It refuses to go away.

The bright face with brilliant eyes
and felling laughter, the brows arch perfectly.

The turnstiles keep rotating,
They seem to grant access to the past.

The glass doors break the words,
But not the emotions within.

The eyes give it all away,
The hands clasp the mouth in disbelief.

Abeyance. The wicked fate of relationships
Founded on belief and tacit passion.

A faint sense of irony; Clenched fists;
Yet the yearning, for that comfort.

It refuses to go away,
Those words with the burden of having to mean.

The mesmerizing eyes, which clasped
And dragged, with blood dripping, into a dying sun.

In the dreams, in every waking moment,
With that unknown joy and pain, they look on.

The sledging reality-

It refuses to go away.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Breathless

2011-07-19T21:39:00.000+05:30

Breathless.

The traffic crawls through another signal,
A medley of horns thaws imagination.

The dread- of having to keep it moving,
To not let go and hold on to the break, tight.

A symposium of everything that keeps it alive-
The world and whatever else there is.

Neon lights, archways of a sojourn and
Bridges that lead into junctions- all a pointless perjury.

The city pants, overgrow and made up-
Its blood cells are all almost dead.

It waits, for the impending strife,
A disaster to relieve it of this painful existence.

Somewhere, the end waits berthed,
Harboring the inevitable, relishing the prospects.

The city, it waits-
Almost breathless now.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The City

2011-07-10T11:41:00.003+05:30

New roads that lead to old places-
Neat, well laid and painted.

The old is buried and razed,
Even as the stray dogs stay.

Parks of composure, offering a breather-
Yet bridges break away the trees of a hot summer.

Tall buildings with cemented wishes,
They sprout like petty street temples.

The drudgery- the laconic movement of wheels,
The cacophony of hoking and the clean white shirts.

Hoarder of hope, the city refuses to unwind-
Lest success be seen as nothing but a distant skyscraper.

Some offer a prayer, others take a spanner,
All hoping to mend the potholed roads.

In the end, the burgeoning beast spread is limbs,
Stepping on open lands and skies, who is to offer a third?

The Light Shines The Brightest

I want that silence

2011-06-23T00:37:00.001+05:30

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I want that silence-
That which seeps through,
Covers you warm,
And calms like death.

I want that slow raaga,
Which melts into the world, smelt;
That triggers and thaws,
Ignites and blazes silent.

I want a sylph,
With intricate wings and polished nails,
With curly hair and a clamorous will;
One to hold my breath and dreams, still.

I want a wish.

But I have a dream.
It shall float like a wind-spread-seed,
Taking me to places that I have never been-
A tableau of marooning abeyance.

I want that silence-

That which seeps through,

Covers you warm,

And calms like death.

I want that silence-

That shuts away holy towers

And pushes me gentle,

Into the streams of a fine dream.

The Light Shines The Brightest

I shall be quiet and peer into the silent night

2011-06-12T23:50:00.000+05:30

I shall be quiet and peer into the silent night,
Waiting for an abatement in this mundane rite.

Endless, the sky stares at me, everyday;
Somewhere within my gaze, I search for beauty.

A profound meaning, is worth not;
Nor is an ideal hope, with whispers fraught.

There are no stars that glitter like
Ever dearer gold or precious skies.

There is no sound, startling,
Waiting to pounce with joy's sighs.

There is nothing but a blank wall,
With a tree shrugging in tired effort.

There is a rustling wind, with creaks
Of aged grinding knees.

There is that sudden wish,
That everything would stop and be still.

I shall stay quiet and stare into the silent night,
With hope, because there is nothing else.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Monsoon

2011-06-08T09:16:00.000+05:30

The fresh smell of mud,
The bright sun shut away,
The soliciting clouds of grey.

Yearning for a moment of reprieve,
From the soul-sucking humidity,
And the heretic winds of the politic.

The first puddles of hope,
The desperation of gridlocked traffic,
The leap over streams of floating garbage.

People scurry for safety,
Stray mongrels find an abandonment for cover,
The mighty crows on coconut trees stand drenched.

Masquerading streets with reeking lust,
The parvenu potholes and evading bumps,
Patterns of wishes of a forgotten someone.

Trees of tampered sway, gutted by the gust,
And rooted among pallbearers of yesterday,
The rat holes are long lost in the fray.

The first signs of the monsoon,
The windows beat in tempting joy,
Only to be locked and bolted tight.

The clouds across the sky,
Skimpy with silver lines,
Parade in with aromas, delinquently.

As the temperature drops,
And rustic hopes creep over homes,
The clogged drains, look on derelict.

Hope.

The Light Shines The Brightest

None Knows

2011-05-15T10:57:00.002+05:30

In a faraway world, where everything stands still-
Across the turquoise sky, puffy white clouds
In deep slumber, scape the sight and hideaway
The antique tales of a prolonged yesterday.

The sundial shadows of precision,
Haunt the grotesque angles of vendatta-
Yet neither neglect nor care give a damn-
The sun tans the brows anyway.

Ancient scribbles stand engraved-
Nothing can corrode the words but
None know that forgotten alphabet
Or the spirits of that day.

Vast courtyards, where heirs were conceived,
Where blood was shed as much as tears
And the balance of justice weighed either way,
None know but the silent tombs and red walls.

As the daunting facades look over,
Today's poor beg for a rupee or two,
Under the grandeur and gait of fort walls
With frescoes and paints of evading hues.

None know the force that pushes
The fat man to walk the extra yard
And ride on elephants and be
Absorbed into self-contentment.

None know the reason for religion
And its glittering phallic towers,
Inevitable veneration or the perverted
Postulates of an unsound disposition.

None know the reason for humanity
Or its mongrelistic existence, scavenging
For pittance within concrete match boxes
In a universe of undoubted abundance.

None know the vile vogue,
Its insecticidal inundations and prowess
To captivate and blind with
Neon lights and inert air.

None know the political penury,
Its desperation and bloody fulfillment,
In sucking away hope and faith,
Reassuring today is better than yesterday.

None know the reasons,
But everyone marches towards an end-
Under the puffy white clouds
And jet planes that zip away, beyond.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The Rigidity

2011-04-18T09:37:00.000+05:30

The rigidity-
The parallel lines, that run along,
Being chased by the glazing heat
And oblique rays of the unforgiving sun.

I want to stay still,
So that this solitude feels alone,
In the midst of a throng,
Wave upon wave,
With black umbrellas and
Colourful innocuous fabric.

I want to feel happy,
Because there is no reason to feel sad-
I may never belong in the sedimented hopes
Of a second class compartment,
But I can still stand and feel
The hope and despondence,
Resonating through pirated cell phones,
Cloth bags, pink cotton shirts and flip flops.

I want to know,
Then maybe I won't be afraid-
The reason for the closed doors,
Black veils and buttons on shirts,
That sickening stench and the dry
Skies, all waiting for some repose.

These two parallel lines,
That carry away all that can be,
That usher into the city,
The best of the seeds,
Where they are fed to become weeds.

The compartments rattle away,
Feeding on the dreams of another yesterday.
Rupee coins and thoughtless gazes,
Judgmental by instinct, yet really afraid-
No one dares to give change.

The Light Shines The Brightest

All you need to do is let go

2011-03-30T09:42:00.000+05:30

Each step gobbles another piece of Earth,
Each minute burns everything else before it,
Each thought imprisons all before it.

Meandering through a road,
The simmering tar and the fraudulent mirages,
The open fields guarded by wild scrubs,
The path keeps moving.

In a city of brittle concrete,
Syndicate sodium vapours and gnarled garbage,
The knots of hierarchy and trampoline of money,
Arrest the windows from beating freely.

In the jungle of tomorrow,
Children walk with white shoes and blue ties,
Bound to the thick books and fraught with
Dreamless fright of others' dreams.

In the wicker baskets,
Lie the discarded penchant and providence,
None to carry them, for they exist no more.

In the parks of tomorrow,
The muscles flex not, but a voice hangs over,
Prompting the hive of humans to churn the currency.

In the match box houses,
Blood remains still and cold,
Frozen by the pampering heat
And disgruntled wit.

In the empty beaches,
The waves crash on, forlorn,
No more folklore to paint it turquoise,
None to wash in melancholy of joy.

The rocks stand still,
As the winds move the big hand,
The minutes wither away to the
Chained voices of another yesterday.

Step by step, they move away,
Those who were, are no more.
The sun and moon are not bright,
But caught in a transcending gray.

Each step gobbles another piece of Earth,

Each minute burns everything else before it,

Each thought imprisons all before it.

But all you need to do is let go.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Anger

2011-03-14T01:04:00.000+05:30

Possessed by hunger they sat under a tree,
As the crowds gathered, they vowed,
They swore, that things won't be dirty.

Petty hopes and many a lives were given,
For long to protect a monarch, a kaiser,
A leader but today oh! for whom?

The hunger, the hunger, it drove, them all away-
The king, his horses and his men and yes! even a diamond!
But then a man drew a line, joy turned to sorrow.

The people, the people,
They fought the wars, they got raped,
Their temples were ransacked and dignity hanged!

By blood, they divide us, by colour they do,
By religion, by caste, by place, by language, they do,
But aren't you my brother too?

Oh! today, we are petty numbers in a statistic,
One invisible dot on an elliptical curve,
Moving towards infinity or Zilch.

Fate, capricious, sways,
Fueled by lust, power and hate.
Oh! and then money makes sure nothing creaks!

The tiny black mark on a finger,
All too willing to be rubbed away,
Yet for years, we wish, oh! so belate!

Tardy, the promises have expired,
And so have the gray breads and walking sticks,
All we have are white clothed men and a parimutuel parliament!

Here a fraud, There a murder,
The estates are four and they all seem like whores!
Oh! The sensors and censors, blood drips on the vernaculars!

There are a few who are so high and mighty,
That the stoned asylums refuse to be taxed and bothered,
Everything is a miracle, there it is all gone, in the blink of an eye!

Someone, close my eyes, ears, mouth and nose,
The monkeys, the monkeys, oh! what they do is really gross!
No more, can I stand or sit, I am numb and at the end of my wit!

Someone, you sir please, you madame please,
Can you turn down the volume and not honk, okay? Please.
Two birds, sat on a wall, one was arrested and the other harassed.

Children look so beautiful and young,
Oh! the waitress, she is too pretty to be!
Nasty, nasty, but the Gods can't see in the dark!

Dear country, who are you?
Neither by blood or love are we one,
So stop not me from what I have begun.

Every bridge is a whip crack on your back,
Every road is the blood flowing, vain.
Every belief, is just a sedate.

Pass the salt and the Swiss cheese please,
Who cares if someone dies hungry?
The economy, volatile and precariously free.

Freedom redefined, you can do all you want-
Except all that you can't. Neither can you work,
Nor study- pay money, even if you don't have any!

The system baked like idlis,
And boiled like innocent chickens,
Always ready to be bought and eaten!

Close the doors and lock them
And be ready for the thieves-
They wear ties or dothis and smile invariably!

Beware and be aware, any second now,
There will be a knock on the door and your head,
Hope our sympathies are by you , truly felt!

They still sit under the tree, hungry.
They say no more and wish for no freedom,
They swear not, Orwell called them proles.

Oneday, something will stir and there will be no room 101,
But then, who can ever get past catch 22,
Or wake up from a midnight's dream as children?

Ray, Roy or Rashid are neither too bold nor brave,
They stare at you curious and hopeless, anyway.
Are you afraid, raise up your windows please.

Thank you, for this free speech,
Which is worth less or so it seems,
One day, though someone will redeem.

Beware and be aware,
Know who is who,
And what you want will go through!

The Light Shines The Brightest

I know no ego

2011-02-23T00:00:00.000+05:30

I know no ego,
I know no lies,
I see the seeping blue,
And stare at the blazing sun-
All there is, is a sense of something,
That lingers somewhere within.

This silence that listens,
Words cannot define.
The augmenting hope,
From within explodes.
The abeyance protrudes,
The sands no more move.

I stand high,
I can see far below,
I am here because of hope,
Tomorrow this will be my faith
And the path is my love.

I can hear a lone voice from where,
It is strange and benevolent-
I can feel the words it says,
Tears of joy cleave a dusty path
To fall on the hard rock.

Beyond this, there are stars that shine,
They are as far away as before,
But I am a few steps closer,
And a day nearer.

I stand still,
I am alone but not lonely.
I am joyous but not happy.
I can feel, but nothing is felt,
All that is, is already there.

I know no ego,

I know no lies,

I see the seeping blue,

And stare at the blazing sun-

All there is, is a sense of something,

That lingers somewhere within.

The Light Shines The Brightest

There is a balance

2011-02-12T09:36:00.000+05:30

When nothing exists but one,
When the silence penetrates the darkness
And when stillness stands still,
There is a balance.

When words understand themselves,
When airs surge omniscient,
When the roads walk with intent,
There is a balance.

When the mind knows,
When the senses feel,
When the blood flows, palpable,
There is a balance.

When you can perceive,
When you can see beyond that,
When you can understand all that,
There is a balance.

When the balance weighs itself,
When the forces purely exist,
When the time merely ticks,
There is a balance.

But all that stays is that which exists.
I can listen. I can feel.
I can touch. I can smell.
I exist, because I think.

The Light Shines The Brightest

idyllic hope

2011-01-28T22:58:00.000+05:30

The undefined limits of this world-
Forever diverging and filling the unknown chasm.
As every inch your tyres thread,
And every inch your feet touch,
The world becomes bigger and wider.

With culture bleeding through every pore,
With religion extenuating the azure,
With politics shirking the roads-
The sunsets and the trees and the infinite shore.

Feigning in boats and lazy waters,
Every thought vaporised like steam from tea,
The clocks stuck at seven,
Hoping to make sense of this supposed heaven.

Where does proprietary end,
But in the collective- sundering and unforgiving.
Where does the line end,
But in a junction- dispersing the parallel.

If dark glasses and brothers can,
Then who else can shun the conjurer?
If temples of wisdom can melt into
Churches of hope and the dedication
Of minarets- they why can't a step
Be put forth? Maybe a rapid falls
Or a bearded goat can smash
Or tear away the seemingly inherit
And wake up the innate in man?

But all that remains is a facade,
With a tongue sticking out-
Someday, the world may,
But all that matters is the idyllic hope.

The Light Shines The Brightest

The clock no more bothers

2011-01-12T00:46:00.000+05:30

When you no more try to out do,
But decide to just give your best,
When you are willing to go the mile,
And with a smile watch the sunset.

Between the sparkling neon lights,
And the roads with potholes,
Turning and shoving in a hurry-
To an unknown place.

Bearing no grudge,
With nothing as currency,
Past the bellowing traffic,
Into the lanes of today.

Past parks with slides and see-saws.
Past the dark cul-de-sac,
Into the road that meanders away,
Leading to places, known and otherwise.

Thoughtful and hopelessly merry,
As each stride eats up the decadent tar,
Hope and belief are no more gnarled.

Haunted houses lost to family feuds,
Enchanting laughter under the wayside tree,
Beggars and sports car whizz by,
The rupee's worth is of a kind.

In the clutter-clatter and the viscous din,
Feet by feet, the legs in rhythm cover.
Under the pecuniary passion and around
The valveless labyrinth, I move.

Towards somewhere,
But care, now I do not.
When the day begins at midnight
And never ends,
The clock no more does bother.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Under the street light

2010-12-21T18:56:00.000+05:30

A taciturn rose,
Stood silent on a sombre night.
As the sodium vapours,
Spent their light,
A late night crow,
cawed- who knows why?

Potted plants and their restricted glory-
The air is too fumed,
the ground is too dry or in a watery deluge.
The new high street lights-
They scare my pet ghosts and
They throw staccato shadows.

The silence of two 'o clock,
I stand at a window
With criss-crossing grills-
I wonder if everything,
Would forever remain this still.

The ambivalent silence passes on,
An approaching car, labours fraught.
This city, that seems to never old,
Expect in quarters where its wisdom lies-
Formed by planned pillage,
Stealing and swallowing villages overnight.

There are times, when like the light-less lamp
On a moonless night,
The darkness overtakes, even the fastest bike.
There are times, when like the bright lamp
On a full moon night,
When the light seeps behind the curtains drawn tight.

Wicked whispers, spirit lovers and vintage worshippers,
They all at this place, converge.
Yet to me, that taciturn rose
And sombre night, lit by the Sodium-vapour lights,
Forever shall be what defines.

While the rose fades away and is replaced-
By flowers of different shades and perfumes,
The lonely lamp, stands solid on the tar roads
That lead somewhere and also divides.

I watch with a quiet and joyous smile.
Somewhere behind that there stands a wraith,
It shall wait for the lights to fade away.

The Light Shines The Brightest

Headlights

2010-12-11T23:51:00.000+05:30

Headlights-
Once upon a time I was alive.

Headlights-
The lights that glares my eyes.

Headlights-
I watched them approach.

Headlights-
A sense of despair,
A sense of relief,
Your worst nightmare coming true,
A shocking wakening from day dreaming.

Headlights-
The end seems to be rather near.

Headlights-
Suddenly, you feel mortal and alive.

Headlights-
You are made of memories,
That you hold and cherish-
Yet in a moment they all might perish.

Headlights-
The inane days spent looking at clouds.

Headlights-
The birds you saw fly by,
The stars, the enchantment in their light.

Headlights-
The smell of home,
The recognition of things you own.

Headlights-
Curiosity and its charm-
You learn that somethings can harm.

Headlights-
Those moments, spent looking out of a window,
At the neighbours quarreling,
At the flood waters rising.

Headlights-
Watching your mother cry,
When her grand mother died.

Headlights-
The silences you learnt-
The impromptu quiet when you were rude,
The solemn look when you were in trouble,
The anger, solidified into brows,
The clenched fist and the whole furore.

Headlights-
Childish squabbles with friends,
Determined to never speak again.
Yet, hours later you repent.

Headlights-
Petty glittering things, you wish to have,
If only diamonds weren't so rare.

Headlights-
The first time you saw the moon,
And the yellow white night.

Headlights-
The first time you heard the thunder,
And ran inside afraid.

Headlights-
The first time you were caught for a lie-
Learning that it was wrong,
And later realizing,
That too might be a lie.

Headlights-
Fear, not the like one you face now,
But those seconds of improbable tension-
The desparate whys and hows,
Caught in the wraps someone's vengeance.

Headlights-
The whole world is watching,
And you are stuck,
You grasp, you gasp,
You shudder, Stupefied wonder.

Headlights-
The day you read ambulance in the mirror,
And learnt that objects appear nearer.

Headlights-
The coin tricks and paper rockets-
That forever tell your own tale.

Headlights-
That tall tree,
You stared upon,
Wondering, if you could ever climb it.

Headlights-
The walls that divide, also lead somewhere.
You dare to take a step and another step.

Headlights-
The first time you fell.

Headlights-
Sitting with your best friend in class,
Discussing about history and war,
In innocence, all seems fair and bizarre.

Headlights-
Those cards, that act like memoirs,
Your childhood's inheritance-
You can never throw them away.

Headlights-
Acting like a leader,
In a school play.
The first time you went on stage.
How you swallowed hard
And looked at the audience-large,
You felt a fear and sweat,
Yet beamed, said your lines and went.

Headlights-
Dark glasses and jealousy-
Why won't people talk to me?
Feeling alone and left,
A single boy on a portico, wet.

Headlights-
The joy of swings and building blocks,
Of glories untold but thoroughly felt,
You were the king of the divine concoction-
Only to be met with snides and cold hearts,
Yet you were pompous and just.

Headlights-
The security of known spheres-
The fear felt when lost in a new place-
You dare not be a kid, put on a straight face.

Headlights-
The joy seeing a little baby
Sleep and cry-
Oh! that thing is actually alive.

Headlights-
Your sister, who means everything.
She, the princess of the world,
And never would you let anything hurt her.

Headlights-
You race the winds on a Sunday terrace,
You are faster till the roof's fence.

Headlights-
The days you saw a house rise
From the ground dry.

Headlights-
The days you waited
For your parents to return home.

Headlights-
Why can't you learn the language?
The failure, over and over,
To do well, in your mother tongue-
The ridicule and then the jest.

Headlights-
What did I do?
I did not hurt him.
It was he, it was he.

Headlights-
The nights you spent crying.
For what not, what else,
Why my child, could you never sleep,
Forever lost in your own fantasies.

Headlights-
Who is this God?
Show yourself,
You man in the sky.
Let a lightning strike if you are there,
Are you nothing more than an idea well bred?

Headlights-
The day, when you were no more a boy-
When you stepped outside the dusty classrooms,
And knew you will never return.

Headlights-
The trust of years broken,
In one uncertain moment.
The pain, the fear, the anger and the hate-
All rise, maybe this is what they call fate.

Headlights-
Every time you fall,
You get up, dust yourself and walk on-
But maybe not this time.

Headlights-
They come closer.
How will it be to be crushed,
Not by your past or present,
But under the tyres,
In ironic malevolence.

Headlights-
But that should never happen.
You have dreams and big they are,
You want to rise and travel far.

Headlights-
You have no time to cry,
For life in truth, is too short.

Headlights-
You actually don't feel all this.
For in that moment,
All you know, is that something is wrong.

Headlights-
All you are is in despair.
And as certainty returns,
A relief gets its fair share.

Headlights,
Everything that beings should end.
Whether a metaphor,
Or this inchoate verse.

Headlights-
At least now, you have a will to be alive.

Headlights-
That shall haunt you forever.
Headlights-
That shall inspire.

Headlights-
You know it could have gone wrong.
Headlights-
But now you are strong.

Headlights-
Words know no pain.
Headlights-
It is all but innate.

Headlights-
Nothing ever will make sense,
If you see it with too much reverence.

Headlights-
To something that never happened I write.
Headlights-
I shall no more be afraid.

Headlights-
I shall take on the wheels,
That you ride upon,
And by the time it can hit,
Leave a mark upon.

Headlights,
That star is my guide,
The one only I can see,
For I believe I can be.

Headlights,
I now have self belief.
Headlights-

Headlights-
I am alive.
And till I die,
On you I shall ride,
To dare and conquer,
To never again give in to fear.

The Light Shines The Brightest

An accident

2010-11-30T22:25:00.000+05:30

This stillness, that everything seems to possess.

The way, every second stands still-

And makes you take notice.

Like an ant walking across the floor,

Like a bird scaling the skies,

Like a diamond shining in light,

Like the moments before you die.

Time seems to stand and watch,

Everything seems to freeze,
The moment seems to last forever.

The desperation, the pain,
And then the knowledge,
That you might not feel it anyway.

Blaring headlights, head towards you,
However far, the speed and the stretched second,
Makes it all seem even more present and real.

One instance everything seems to be alright,
And the next-life is never the same again.

Albeit a few scratches, you have never felt so mortal-
The danger was imminent, yet it never happened.

The way you waited for the inevitable to happen,
The sudden peace and acceptance which you feel-
Even when another part of you tries to live.

Moments later, everything comes alive-
Nothing really did happen.
You get up, look around,
And sit down to set the shock settle in.

A moment,
It was meant to happen?

But never again,
Will you feel like before-
For everything will be different, henceforth.

The Light Shines The Brightest