The Cripple who is Whole

Fall in the UK

2011-11-15T03:42:00.000-08:00

The weather in Oct/Nov is mostly pathetic in this part of the world. Dull days, duller and cold nights. The sun hardly shines through, and the haze makes it a little difficult for the likes of me, whose soul object of living weekends is to go out and make this country look more beautiful than it actually is :).

Also, I have just realized that autumn is not the fiery red here, as it is in the US. Autumn is the colour of rust, and if you are lucky, when the sun does peek through and you are out and about, it could be a very soothing gold.

P.S. I shall be back home in the new year. The only thing I will miss from my life for the last year or so, is the opportunity this place gave me to explore something I hadn't known I had any talent for.

2011-10-24T16:53:00.000-07:00

You have one life to live. Or atleast you cannot hold more than one lifetime of memories at any time. So make sure that you can count yesterday as having been spent in a manner, the same you'd love to spend again tomorrow. If being carefree makes you happy, then so be it! If falling over trying to follow your curly stubborn tail makes you laugh, do it. There is no shame and no honour. Both often involve third party emotions and hence are not the kind of stuff you want to bank on. There is just one person who mostly always plays along, .... it's You. Listen to what people have to say, but never evaluate yourself solely on what They have to say.

And stop trying too hard. You cannot always do what you love. Someone has to pay the bills and maybe you are born of the lesser fortunate. Accept it. Appreciate yourself because of it, inspite of it. The world around is still not exacting or equating. But remember to take some time out to do what you love today. Don't push it off till tomorrow as tomorrow you have no control over, never.

The essence of all good things lie in their Timing. Ace it.

2011-09-08T07:16:00.000-07:00

Back home on a 3 week relaxation scheme? Nopes. More like planned 2 weeks of resolving things that have piled up in my 8 month absence and 1 week kept aside for incidentals. By incidentals I mean falling sick and one or two surprise invitations. One year I have spent in a city called London, and fingers crossed, I can say that I am immune there! A year when I was at my physical best, never lying down when not wanting to, almost. And I always had a feeling that my usual self will catch up with me as soon as I touch my home soil. And it did! I am floored by my old arch enemy! The common cold. Always on the lookut. Ever vigilant. Catching me on the sly and then tormenting me. Like a long lost and despaired lover, who I had injured once and who now and forever hungers for vengeance. Leave me be!

2011-05-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

Went to Isle of Wight during Easter. Went alone. It's a marvellous thing if you travel alone. It's different. It's calm. And it feels that you own yourself for the time being. It is a wonderful feeling.

And there are lots of photos to share! If anybody cares that is! :P
http://www.flickr.com/photos/59166866@N07/tags/isleofwight/

At different times in life, I have had different passions. One can say, photography is the latest addition to that. But as with me, these passions don't seem to last. Like, for example, I bought a decent digital camera last winter, which gives you all these damn good pics, but they now do not appear good enough when I have seen what you can achieve with a DSLR. Well I already new that when I bought it I guess, but then I had no idea that this whole concept would interest me much. And now that it has consumed me, I am seriously thinking of putting up my digicam on eBay and use the sales to boost the budget to a DSLR.

And I have been educated by a friend that these lenses apparently don't come cheap. Well atleast all the good ones don't. And even if I do buy them, it doesn't guarantee that I will use them faithfully...

2011-03-21T16:05:00.000-07:00

Like I said, I am smitten!

And for more, http://www.flickr.com/photos/59166866@N07/

In Retrospection

2011-03-15T08:30:00.001-07:00

I am at a point in my life when one needs to decide a few things. The happy-go-lucky way has to end. One is supposed to start thinking about the future, about how and where and in whose company one will be spending it. In my case, it boils down to me deciding whether I want to study further. It is a popular fact that one can study whenever one wishes to, that one can accumulate degrees much later in the career and still benefit from them. The soul reason for me studying my ass out through school years stands so very much in contrast to norm that I am better off keeping it to myself. And I know that that reason will not suffice as a motivation for me studying any further. Truth be told, that reason does not justify me studying as much as I have! That reason cannot justify anything! So? Where does that leave me?

Many of my friends never left studying. They continued with researches and publishing papers and more researches after graduation. But retrospection leads me to see that their motivation was different from mine. That even when in college, where most of us had given up the concept, they had still continued to flourish as students. They simply are continuing what they set out to do. And that there has not been a gross change in perceptions, or so their behaviour suggests. (It is perhaps of some worth to mention here that few possess the strength, or better put, the will to change the equations of life, in that they deal in constants rather than variables, and align them to ever changing perceptions. Hence even when perceptions may have taken a 180 degree spin, behavioural tendencies may show no signs of shear or tension. That according to me defines complacence, but let’s not digress here.)

Then I also have friends who had landed up in meeting rooms directly from class rooms. There are generally speaking two kinds (arguably) - People who had taken up jobs because that seemed to be the best option open, and people who had taken up jobs because that seemed to be the only option open. I believe I belong happily to the latter kind (happiness may also lie in not having to choose) when my friends are of the opinion that I belong to the former. But whichever the kind, many have began migrating from jobs onto further studying, and every single one has chosen to do this abroad (I do not know what to read in this last fact). So I am fast running out of peers who are simple graduates. Does this have a potential threat hidden somewhere which would have me run head first into a mid-life crisis (reserved in context of my career)?

So let’s discuss available options at this point in my life. What if I do decide to study! What do I study? Certainly not core technology. I was never meant for that. (Remember my motivating factor? It did not justify this even when it served as a motivating factor.) Then a Masters in Business Administration or Finance perhaps?! Finance is number crunching to a thick skull like mine and that sort of thing may have dire consequences to my sanity and appetite. The MBA seems more and more a ball game but then it’s a tough nut to crack and knowing my number skills, may be honestly beyond my reach. One argument that I may put forward here is that the IIMs are producing more and more shit these days (and here I am quoting an ex-IIM graduate and a present leader of my firm) and that I can be as worthless even when the MBA curriculum’s through with me.

The other and more complacent option is to stick with the current flow of things and stay put as an employee with a distant hope of one day making sumptuous gains from loyalty and hardcore hands-on experience. This is the easy bit and won’t require any theatrics on my part; as is the case, this comes naturally to me.

I am a person who has expected the benefits of a disciplined life without having to lead an actually disciplined life. I am a lazy man who demands much. But on a number of occasions I find myself equally satisfied with less, much less. And so I am a little bit confused. It has started to dawn on me that what you deserve and what you wish to achieve are one and the same. And there, I am confused.

2011-03-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

2011-02-26T13:08:00.000-08:00

All plays have curtains,
All good things must come to an end,
And you must learn to hop
From one Broadway show to the next,
For linger too long,
And you might miss,
A story between frames,
Or a popular song.

Never criticize a show too long,
It will end up in the papers anyways.

2011-02-26T12:45:00.000-08:00

Tomra ja bolo tai bolo,
Amar lagey na mone
Amar jae bela, boye jae bela,
Kemon bina karone
Tomra ja bolo tai bolo...

Red cheeks and all that fume

2011-02-07T16:32:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you stand and gather yourself,
And see the greatness scattered around, wasted,
And try to make a meaning out of the chaos,
That you have left behind.

Sometimes you remember to dream,
And they come back to you, your little angels,
Who look upon you with a smile,
And make you blush.

You know you look best when your cheeks are red,
And your ears give away fumes,
And the pulses, they run faster than ever,
In a mad rush that fills you soon.

But then you chase the fireflies away,
You know you’ve grown tall,
And thus you end it in your dreams,
The one dream to be small.

2011-02-05T06:18:00.001-08:00

I have great potential for bad things.
And that worries me...

A New Hobby?

2011-01-30T15:00:00.000-08:00

2011-01-10T10:37:00.000-08:00

"...and when will I ever grow up?
past blushes and handsome crushes." :P

2011-01-06T15:48:00.000-08:00

......now all I need is a little push.

Cambridge Day Out

2010-12-30T02:13:00.000-08:00

Cambridge. The farthest I have ever been from London so far! Our usual trio (Anil, Charles and self) went there during the Christmas holidays this year. For those of you who are interested, let me tell you now that Cambridge visiting season is summer, or late summer preferably. And that is true for almost anything to see in England. But winters here are boring and you need something to do.

Hence Cambridge. The best and cheapest way from London is via the National Express Rail and it takes you about an hour at the most to cover the 52 miles between the King’s Cross and Cambridge. You should pre-book your tickets to avail of any discounts or offers that are running around. Usually there is always something to be found if you look hard enough!
Cambridge is a day’s trip. We left the King’s Cross at 10:15am on the 27th of December 2010. And within an hour we were standing in front of the Cambridge station. It was quite chilly but luckily there was no hard wind. They always make matters worse. So we were standing in front of the station not knowing what to do and then we bought a guide map from the guide-map-vending machine. Cost us a pound. We figured out our north from our south next and headed out into the city.

Cambridge is not a big city. And you can manage by walking. We did. The tourist bus rides may sound tempting but they are costly for those who are not plush. The station is at the south-east corner of the city and all universities or major sight-seeing fall on the north-north-western side. We first went to the city centre with big malls and shopping complexes. Sale was on and the place was throbbing. We judged that we were cold (and the walk from the station had made us pretty uncomfortable) and needed something hot inside. We had our lunch at wagamama, tried Japanese wine ‘sake’. And so full we set out once again.

Punting in Cambridge is a must. And we were so very glad that is was still open in winter. Graduate students from the university give you a boat ride in the Cambridge river, locally known as the college river, and give you the facts and fictions that surround the great halls of this old and rich place. Our punter was a young graduate from York who’d come to Cambridge during holidays to earn some extra cash. We, a group of about 10 people, were made cosy in the small boat with quilts and hot-water bags. We sat at the head of the boat. Facing us was a really cute Taiwanese couple (I have been guilty of taking snaps of the girl more than once, but in my defence, the chill made her nose red and she was quite a sight :)). And further down were a Korean and a German family.

The punter hit us with little stories of the different halls on the Cambridge grounds; starting from the splendour of the King’s and Queen’s College to the not-so-cute Pembroke College and the bitter rivalry between Trinity and St. John’s Colleges, the history of the bridges on the river, their perfections (mathematical bridge) and imperfections (missing-a-section Clare Bridge), the tragic story of beautiful Elizabeth-de-Clare, who had three husbands, all of whom died soon after their marriage to her, and that the black widow derives its name from her, of present day not-so-smart graduates who'd crawl the roofs of King's College (the tallest structure within Cambridge bounds) and place souvenirs on the tower-heads.

All this was a pretty heavy dose of history and the graduate knew his audience well. We finally disembarked near the Anchor pub, which is rumoured to have had Pink Floyd artist Syd Barrett as a frequenter in the late 60’s and serves the best ale in the city. We then continued our journey on foot and visited the St. John’s and Trinity College grounds. While at Queen’s college on the Bridge of Sighs we witnessed something wonderful. A couple were marrying on a boat mid-stream.

It then became late and as it was getting dark we made for the station. We had a train to catch at 5:15pm. We were exhausted by the time we got home and I had a sound sleep.

A fortunate misfortune

2010-12-22T09:04:00.000-08:00

Flight EK005 took off from Dubai International Airport at 4:30 pm (local time), a 300plus passenger boeing-777 flight, with all intentions of making it to LHR by nightfall. But someone somewhere must have had other plans. And so when the plane touched down in Hamburg at 8:00 pm in the middle of all that snow and an outside temperature of -9oC I cursed my fate for letting me being caught up in all this. They speak of it as the worst snow in a hundred years. And I did not, from the moment I came down the aircraft, feel that it was going to be amusing. The Germans were hospitable enough to take us in but we still had to go through a very rigorous administration process that took up 4 hours. They initiated some kind of paper visa with 48hr validity. Then there was talk of us being put up in the Marriott for the night. This brightened people up a bit. The next flight would be for 3:45pm the next day. Sad as it is the person in front of me in the queue was the last to be booked into Marriott. I and all who followed were put up in a smaller but neat motel. Once there I had a hot bath and fell asleep.

In the morning when we were having breakfast news spread that snow had made it impossible for Heathrow to operate and that the flight would have to be further delayed. As if things were not already bad! I refused to be stuck in the motel with German TV and no laptop charge. The motel lobby had some 30 people gathered for breakfast. Soon people began clustering into groups, based on colour and culture. After lunch our little group moved out in a cab to see the city. The cab driver was an Iranian and luckily one of us spoke Parsi and we convinced him to take as around the city for 10€ per person. It was a nice little trip in the glum streets of west Germany. The large bare iron and burnt brick structures seemed to bear visages of the past, from the time of the World Wars. I had never seen so much snow and it was delightful. We stopped by the neat little houses and took snaps.

Then we drove down a once-lush-now-bare-and-white boulevard to a lake that had been completely frozen. The famous Alster was now like a huge ice rink and little Christmas carnivals had sprung up on its banks. There was this huge Christmas tree that stood in the middle of the lake, sparkling in all its glory. We drove round the big lake and saw the monstrous train stations of Hamburg. These structures seemed so solid that nothing but nukes would dent them. German engineering!

Thrilled and shivering we came back to our hotel in the evening. The night buffet was more tempting than the lunch had been. We had a small chat after dinner and then we slept. Good news was in store as we woke up the next morning and we left Hamburg airport at 11:30am bound for Birmingham. Yes, Heathrow was still closed. We had coaches that took us from Birmingham to LHR and finally when I got to my apartment it was 7:00pm Monday. I had left home on Saturday 7:00am from Kolkata and that made it a total of 2 days and 18 hrs of flight time! But I am glad that all this happened. Made some great friends and saw a city that would normally be out of my itinerary.
After all,
“Whatever is, is best!”
~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

2010-12-16T19:37:00.000-08:00

And the longest break that I've ever taken since I got working ends today. I cannot say how the two weeks went by before I could actually take any initiative to begin enjoying them! Much like me (smile).

First Snow!

2010-11-30T15:19:00.000-08:00

When I woke up this morning it was snowing and my city was all white. I had never seen snow before, and I felt as much part of a fairytale as any. Light fleecy flakes dancing with the wind hit my face and it was this funny childish itch that I had almost forgotten that hit me! Christmas is near. I am glad everything is turning out the way it has been for the last couple of months. I really love this city. And I would like to stay a little longer! My secondment ends in January but I guess I want to linger.

And there are loads still to do here, loads still to see. Who knows when I might get a chance again!Keeping my fingers crossed.

2010-11-03T02:56:00.000-07:00

Had a pitcher of 77 Sunset strip http://www.coctails.org/77-sunset-strip, sizzling steak, burning shrimp and chicken legs last night shared between two good friends. Ordered my first bottle of champagne http://www.drinksdirect.co.uk/acatalog/jacobs_creek_sparkling_rose.html and to top it off a taquila shot on the house (courtesy of the cheerful barman Tony).

Friend speak:"Let's make this the most memorable b'day you ever had buddy! You gotto remember it!"
Me speak: "I would've remembered it for sure, if not for all this liqour being emptied into me!"

But amazing as it is, last night, we were left standing after all and today I am at work as I write this down. The stupor has passed mostly in my case. The friend seems to have an ill fate and has dozed off at his desk.

Performance Reviews: A Discourse

2010-11-02T08:51:00.000-07:00

The psychometrics of man makes some things a necessary evil. Let us take the annual performance reviews in corporate organizations for example. There can be no denying that performance reviews are absolutely critical. Why? Because of the way we’re groomed from childhood. Because we were taught, when very young, that in order to expect good results we must perform. However, as it is with any other thing, this bit of information, gets twisted in our brain and by the time we graduate and are ready to migrate from a world of academics to one of economics, it reads something like ‘If we perform we must expect good results’. And as we proceed through the first year of our career, this faith is fed by our respective managers/mentors by constant appreciations of the things we learn (and here I must state that the intended audience of this blog are not the happy-go-lucky people of the world but that minute sub-set of them that consider themselves to be achievers and are ready to debate that fact!), for freshers are expected mostly to learn trade and not do trade!(again trade is used in a much broader sense here) And then suddenly we are expected to grow up and deliver. And we do deliver, sometimes to our own astonishment! As that happens we begin to expect: Work Done => Praise Hard-earned. But industry is a whole different ball-game. And it doesn’t necessarily pay you back in the same terms. When the year ends, not all things look nice and fair; if the revenues are not good the axe has to fall. And people walk away disheartened, feeling that Newton’s 3rd law is valid no more. That makes most despondent and they hold up another perspective of it. They migrate. Leave and let live. Descent by-product of human psychometrics based on above mentioned inputs. The strong have always conquered new shores. And the strong are usually capable to migrate safely, sometimes even with bumper bonuses.

Based on the above, one should ask, whether or not is it worth the man-hours spent on achieving such a review. But the answer was clear at the beginning. It is absolutely critical to have one! It doesn’t hurt the movers for vertical change is good. It doesn’t hurt the absorbing organisations as they gain resource wealth. And lastly, it is good for ailing organisations in the sense that it gets you on a platform where you have to rethink your position and strategy and approach and that means change and change is better. Performance reviews are not de-motivating. They just are the kicks that make change necessary by placing your motivations correctly.

Pujor gondho marattok!

2010-10-15T06:54:00.000-07:00

pujotey ami baritey nei
mone amar dukhho sei
london e teo pujo hoi
tobe dekhbar moto temon noi.

ki j kori, ki j kori
eri modhye fb-r barabari
ebar pujo holo naa
tai bole aar jalio naa.

bhallagey naa dhutteri
firle baNchi taratari
anonde chhora likhchhe loke
ami 'as usual' likchhi shoke.

2010-10-06T15:13:00.000-07:00

I was callin' since I remember,
But nobody came, but nobody came,
Ain't no party, when partin' alone,
Ain't no party at all.

Bad Weather

2010-10-04T03:22:00.000-07:00

I had said that my blogging about London would begin through a change of perceptions. Apparently, they got changed enough not to be reflected in my writings. Nearly a month I have spent here now.

I began with the sun and now I have not but shade.
And I still wonder whether this be a fair trade.
Of life as it were, and life that is now,
Of all the feelings I had, mixed, bad and plain sad,
Now most seem passé.
God doesn’t speak to me anymore.
And there is no sun, just the rain.
It simply doesn’t stop raining.

Bad weather. Bad mood. And an equally bad poem (if one can call it that!). I had given up on two things once; well three to be exact! But two of them haunt me still. And they haunt me bad.

2010-10-01T02:48:00.001-07:00

"Wahan kaun hai tera
Musafir,
Jaega jahan!

. . . . . . . . .

Koi bhi teri
Raah na dekhe,
Nayan bichhaye na koi
Nayan bichhaye na koi.
Dard se tere
Koi na tadpa,
Aankh kisi ki na roi
Aankh kisi ki na roi.

Kahe kisko tu mera
Musafir,
Jaege jahan!

. . . . . . . . .

Hai sab ki dekhi,
Hai sab ki jaani,
Haath kisike na aani
Haath kisike na aani.
Kuch tera na mera
Kuch tera na mera,
Musafir,
Jaega kahan."

---------- Guide

The London Post: Part 4

2010-09-20T02:30:00.001-07:00

It’s been two weeks and I have a feeling that I am going to like this place. It was a blast this weekend. Went to the Tower of London and Madame Tussaud’s with Charles. If I haven’t mentioned him before then let me do so now. Charles is my saviour in London. When it comes to cooking or showing me around this place, Charles goes to great lengths (he’s short but by Jove can he stretch! :P). Sometimes I feel that he knows the city better than the Old Prince himself. He’s currently trying to teach me the fine art of cooking but I guess he’s understood by now that some things are better left alone.

To be continued......

The London Post: Part 3

2010-09-18T04:43:00.000-07:00

“London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair Lady.”

I loved the tune when young. I hum it sometimes now. I sure do hope that it doesn’t happen. I haven’t gotten to see it yet.

Hays Galleria.

Oxford circus.

Piccadilly circus.

My first phoren weekend. L-O-V-E-L-Y. See the pics. They speak.

To be continued............

The London Post: Part 2

2010-09-17T16:22:00.000-07:00

Office. Canary Wharf. London port area. Big tall buildings, 30-40 stories each. Steel and glass. I work on the 24th floor in one of those. Let’s leave out the details here because I don’t find what I do here least bit interesting. Only good thing, I get in at 9:30 and get out by 5:30 and nobody makes me stay any longer. Cheers to that!

To be continued.....

The London Post: Part 1

2010-09-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

When I arrived at the Gatwick airport on the night of 5th September, I found a Mercedes waiting to pick me up. London. I liked the welcome. It wasn’t as cold as I’d expected. It was mildly cold and very pleasant. It was a long ride from the airport, which was far from the heart of the city, to my apartment in Camden Road. The guy who’d come to pick me up had a funny accent and I wondered whether he was English. Turned out that he was Polish. He didn’t talk much and was happy to stand aside while I shoved my luggage in the trunk.

When I got down in front of my apartment it was 10 at the tops but the place seemed sound asleep. I’d noticed that as my car drove inwards towards the city, the shops had already begun to close. There was no one around to greet me at the flat (I’d been warned that it could be the case given the late hour), so I got into my room and slept. I remember waking up early the next morning (guess my body still ran on IST) and feeling, well, alone and not very nice. I didn’t need to go to office till noon that day and hence I decided to stroll around a bit, explore the area. It did me good. As soon as I’d stepped on the street I felt cheer return to my cheeks. The sun was up high and it was perhaps the best time to be in London, the end of summer.

Camden Road is part of the Camden town. It hasn’t got the city rush. Instead it is full of 3-4 storied apartments and standalone little cottage houses. And they are beautiful. As I made my way through the alleys and stony lanes (and some footpaths were carpeted with grass!), I spotted little brown-wood-n-stone churches and cosy little bars and bistros. I had to move to another apartment later that very day, so I took in the feel of that little town as much I could.
Then I took a cab and went to office.

To be continued........

Away from Home

2010-09-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

It is funny the way you think you are certain about some things, that you know you’d not easily change your opinions about them, that you’d seen enough of them; and then suddenly you change your mind. It happens to everybody. It has happened to me before. It has happened to me again.

This is how I begin blogging about London. Through a change of perceptions. Of how things are, and how they seem.

2010-08-30T23:09:00.000-07:00

Why is it that having my back against the wall makes me react the way I would’ve always wanted to react? Why is it that I cannot conjure up the words when I most need them? Why is it that things are never too simple for me? Why can’t I take the obvious hint?

I have wandered the earth for 500 years of man, and now I have no time.
-Gandalph, Lord of the Rings:The Two Towers

Rain rain... don't come so often

2010-07-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

It rained hard last night. Very. And when I woke up I woke up with a heavy head. And the strong morning tea didn’t cancel that. Rains have never been an object of admiration for me. I have never been able to quite understand the so-oft-described romanticism involved in it. For me rain is trouble. The city in which I live seems to share my feelings. Rains here are like the mother-in-laws who when return after you were succumbing to domestic violence (and thought that now maybe you’re enemy will be otherwise engaged while you may savour some peace), are welcomed with open arms but after few days have passed, you know that you’ve had enough of this shit and living with them thenceforth is impossible. I know this is the saddest and remotest analogy ever, but well, it’ll have to do.

But then, I guess, I am not to judge. The neighbourhood I live in is seldom water-clogged. And all my troubles end if I decide to sit back home and relax. I can even look out my window and take in the smell of wet earth beneath and feel blessed. But life and luck don’t treat everybody the same. I have a relation who has a relation who is well beyond his prime and is roughing it against the weather. The rainwater has invaded his bedroom and he is having to negotiate green little slimy snakes with a walking stick.

All this is fun to here now. But future for me may not remain so bright after all. I just had a ruckus with my promoter about whether or not he should do something about all the water that is clogging in front of my apartment. “You’re on the 3rd floor sir. And you shan’t have anything to do with water there. The rest is not included in the contract.” –blunt and sharp was his reply.

It is night and the rains have started again.

Not My Land

2010-07-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

The nights and the days,
They are the same;
The music you hear, the same stale band.
But this is not where you stayed,
This is a void you do not understand.
What led you here?

Where you come from,
The stars were different,
The sun gave a darker tan;
The bedouin do not for long linger,
On this dust and this sand.
What led you from there?
To this faraway mundane land.

What led you?
When you had such makings of a distinct brand.

2010-07-23T05:21:00.000-07:00

Who am I?
I am your friendly neighbourhood IT consultant.
I am common and I am at large.
I am a late riser. I am most often late to work.
I throng the busy streets at morning and at night.
I am not rich enough to buy a car (I can buy one but maintaining it is an issue). And I am too proud to travel by normal public transport. So I have a peculiar form of transport named after me – the shuttle. Anything from HM ambassadors to Tata Indicas to Honda civics to ambulances, government vehicles to private 4-wheelers ferry me from home to work.
I go to the Sigree and Oh!Calcutta for together-dinners and I drink the lemon masala tea at roadside kiosks.
I don’t vote (because I feel it’s useless) and I don’t donate blood (because I am afraid that I may need all of it someday?).
I am bugged by investment bankers and house loan providers; I am bugged by promotions from my own mobile subscriptions.
I work long hours and I also am distracted enough so that nothing substantial comes of it. I change jobs frequently but I hate it.
If I am single I hate it, if not I hate it even more.
I judge my friends and family, my colleagues and my manager.
I can’t ever own a Ferrari, so I buy a perfume of the same brand.
I have almost no power over things that influence me, over people who hurt me, but I can’t give up scheming because my ideas (good or evil) make me God.

I have learnt that I will never learn to be content.

2010-07-03T10:39:00.000-07:00

Urban Desi. 7:30pm. Germany leading 1-0 at half time. Four friends high on vodka, beer and the likes. Smart ambience. Talking soccer and rot. Friend 1 has to go back to his MBA in Trivandrum the day after. Friend 2 has lost 10 kilos in one-sided-love. Friend 3 knows all about that shit and gives some uncanny advices as to how better on the ongoing depression.
Friend 4 is a scientist now, and a government paid one at that. The dignity of it may have still not settled with him as he tries to look fine with glasses and sport tees.

A weekend to remember! One for the tops!

2010-07-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

How exactly does it fill when you try to make a point, that you think is proper and just, and someone shuts you up, and does so in a very demeaning way. Let alone the feeling, what are you going to do about it? Nothing, for the time being. You do not have the means or the methods with which you can fend him off.

You bottle up your frustration. You wait. Every story that has a beginning ............... has an end.

2010-06-25T10:51:00.000-07:00

If you think that when I smile at you, after you burn my back, I do so because I am naive..... My friend you are WRONG!
There is not a more vengeful person near you, or one more deadly. Watch your step from this day forward. For all you know, I may be planting mines in your path.

“My Lord! I am but a young soldier, and this be my first fight....and I am nervous. But I can strike a blow nonetheless. And I can strike it hard. ”

2010-06-21T02:27:00.000-07:00

“How far doth the repercussion of your actions stretch?”

I have just made up my mind regarding the one thing that has been nagging me for the last couple of weeks. The decision would have an impact, no matter however subtle, on my career (and here I am being a little optimistic when I stress on the word subtle).
I feel like a man who’s sitting on a barrel of gunpowder, the ignition line to which has already been lighted and is burning up fast.

A lot about me has become open to question. And my answer is simple, “I will not always oblige.”

What is to come, will come

2010-06-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

"Sit tight! Those are your orders!"

The obedient do not beg to differ, the obedient cannot choose.
All world around may be in chaos, all hell breaking loose.
Then there are those that sit and smile,
And smoke the butterflies away.
* * *
Nonchalance has its charms.

"Which side are you on..."
Death does not pick sides.

2010-05-09T11:44:00.000-07:00

Came across two good lines today -

“All men are born true, but die a liar.”
“Crappy women weep when unhappy, smart ones just go shopping.” :)

Iron Man 2: Review

2010-05-07T11:11:00.000-07:00

Not many nice dialogues. Robert Downey Jr. is impressive, as always. But sequels have to prove something, they inevitably have to. From that point, what Iron man 2 serves on plate is a bit less than enough. Scarlett Johansson goes to a complete waste as the black widow(Avenger fans do expect a bit more). And the disappointment is not in what she does but what she doesn't do.

But action is nice in bits, especially where Jr. unleases his super weapon, cutting through the drones like winter wheat. The obsession of the rival mastermind with the neanderthal energy whip, however, is unclear.

Final verdict: Watchable.

2010-05-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

And justice is done!

Subha Nababorsho!

2010-04-15T10:43:00.000-07:00

I am a datawarehouse developer. I develop performance reports for big small companies (can’t think of any simpler definitions for what I do). In all such projects majority of the work is driven by fiscal calendar. And it is very confusing sometimes. We Bengalis were smarter that way. No such Julian/fiscal rubbish. Year begins with halkhata.

April 15th, dawn of another Bengali new year. 1417. A very hot day, with frequent power cuts. My pc monitor’s gone bust. Because of the heat or me consistently fisting it (that’s what has been recently needed to get it started) I don’t know.

Thought of taking a nap in the afternoon but my manager called me up and said that I had to fix a bug in my report. And that was urgent. Like it ever was otherwise! By the time I was done I was feeling none too sleepy.

Went to my would-be apartment for want of anything better. The place cools my nerves. My promoter says hopefully he’d finish my apartment by this year. I tell him that I am in no particular hurry as the more he makes me wait the more will I be able to appreciate the money I am putting in. Spent the evening discussing marble and tile shades with ma. The discussion didn’t go so well and one thing led to another as she ended up prophesizing that I will be going for cheap hotels in my post-marriage vacations. God bless womankind!

2010-04-14T01:09:00.000-07:00

Downloaded some old melodies from Guide, Nikaah and some Ghazals. Having a great time grooving to them. S.D.Burman rocks, and so does Rafi.

2010-04-07T01:55:00.000-07:00

There are some people who are exceptional abiders of courtesy. It is nothing short of a pleasure to have them as clients.

2010-04-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

Fortunately in my case, last impression is not the lasting impression. Fortunate for others that is.

Review: Clash of the Titans 2010

2010-04-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

Clash of the Titans is a disappointment. The movie had a great story-line; an improvised version of the actual tale of the Greek hero Perseus. The journey of the brave soldiers of Argos lead by young Perseus to save the Greek city of Argos, is a fascinating read. But the movie fails to leave any mark, thanks to some very poor screenplay, cliched dialogues, and a disaster climactic battle (no battle at all). The stellar cast is no help. Goes to show that big names do not make a big movie. This Avatar guy fails to impress. Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes cannot do enough to salvage anything out of the general wreck. Only plus, Gemma Arterton (remember the oil-painted girl from Quantum of Solace?) looks ravishing, so much so that you don't mind her being brought back from the dead. She is clearly out of little Sam's league as the couple don't ever kiss. Visuable effects are good but do not inspire awe.

Now I feel like I should go watch the MGM version of 1981.

2010-04-04T07:38:00.000-07:00

Kolkata Knight Riders lose despite posting an incredible total. A dismal sunday. I hate sundays. And it's not just the cricket. I am, truth be told, the most indifferent person when it comes to cricket, or any sports that is. I was watching KKR in their defeat for want of anything better. And they lost and made me unhappy. And my 500 gig harddrive's wiped clean. So no finding sympathies in movies.
I hate sundays. Only reason I can find to do otherwise is to look forward to my monday blues. I look best in blue. And monday, albeit with so much workload, is the day I love the most. Remember good old school days? How each one of us loved to be at school. Well, if we did not relish it at the moment, it must have left the most definite after-taste.
Personally speaking, I know good when it hits me. I loved school. I hated high-school. I fancied college, to a considerable extent. But there was always something missing. I could tell. In college, I did not have a goal. I was just following brownian motion. Some may love this random non-chalance. But I could not.

I love mondays. Because I love my work. I love my work. Because I like the people that surround me there. And most importantly, it gives me a goal, no-matter however mundane. It requires not just brilliance but also some cunning. It is strange how managing your success sounds so much better than manipulating your way, though both imply the same. Some part of me would like to believe that a broken poet deserves much better. I feel, "A broken poet couldn't have done any better."

Till tomorrow. :)

P.S. An oppurtunist is a hero who makes good of the oppurtunities presented. Like Jack Sparrow says, "There is no good or bad, there is just that which you can do and that which you cannot!"

2010-04-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

There was a time when I maintained a half-descent blog. I still like to read some. It was good to see an old friend return to his writing ways. That he did a long time ago, but it was tonight that I realized this, (although now I remember him mumbling something like that to me over the phone a few weeks back) following this link and that until I bumped into him.
Then there is a dear friend abroad who has taken up blogging of late and makes good of it. And ofcourse there is one other who I have followed religiously (no prizes for guessing WHO!). Many of my friends wish that I'd keep blogging. For among close friends I was better off than most, what with working from my hometown and living with my parents. Little-or-no-worry lifestyle they'd say.

The truth is my blogging is like my behaviour - abrupt. Bold! Maybe sometimes, but mostly abrupt.

Stale-fresh

2009-11-26T01:48:00.000-08:00

Crushed wings, tattered soul,
Battered fate, ravaged and all,
See the dawn, dark and red,
For the night yester has bled.

But the morning shall be fresh.
For one and all;
Dreams may lie,
But do they die?

Life is not a given...

2009-04-25T13:04:00.001-07:00

This is not a good time to renew my penmanship. It has been months since my last blog. A year has turned. And with it many things have turned a new leaf. Many things have changed to what they were. I am chubby once again. No inspirations there. I am away from home. It’s not my favorite time of the year. I am told that Kolkata’s boiling hot. That does not console me much as Hyderabad is hell’s kitchen. I am getting bored. And I am having a hard time to find it in me to forgive somebody who just badmouthed me saying that I complain too much. It’s 2 a.m. in the morning and I can’t get any sleep as the guest house a.c. is busted. Thank god it’s Sunday tomorrow.

Till better times…

2008-10-03T04:55:00.000-07:00

A black rock, dirty,
Overgrown moss and fern,
Sat by the highway,
Silent, sad, and stern;
It stood there, still,
For as long as it could remember,
Bless me!
Rocks have very short memory,
So it didn’t hurt to ponder.

Until one day a li’l girl came by,
And the rock caught her eye,
Odd shaped and black,
She thought it pretty,
Put it in her knapsack.

The rock went home with her,
She cleansed it, polished it,
Until it shone like a star;
Then she played with it,
For a day and a half,
And then, like it always is,
It was forgotten.

Until one day she emptied her pack,
And the rock fell on her left foot,
She cried out loud.
It had hurt, like it always does.
“Stupid Rock!” She shrieked,
And threw it out her window;
The rock fell, it rolled down,
And gathered moss once again.

Sometimes now, the rock does wonder,
Why it’s gone so soft and tender.
Its shine is now gone too,
But its inside burns, much like a star.
Bless me! Did I mention?
Rocks have very short memory,
So it doesn’t hurt much, to ponder.

Moonstruck

2008-09-17T01:12:00.000-07:00

Moonlight, she pleads for you,
So go hold her hand, be true.
Moonlight, take her in your arms,
Tease her with your unfailing charms.

Moonlight, be nice and soft,
Don’t flirt, as you do oft.
Love her, for who she is,
For once, dive into this abyss.

Moonlight, don’t be afraid,
After all things done and said.
Moonlight, bathe her in your grace,
For you she deserves… nothing less.

Presumptuous

2008-08-30T11:26:00.000-07:00

Once in every blue moon,
The piper plays his mystique tune;
His notes have charm, they say,
The piper knows how to catch his prey.

He is young, but not foolish,
His eyes on that one Big Fish;
He puts himself on as bait,
And by the riverside he stands in wait.

He knows that she’d come,
Come what may, she’d come;
His magic had never failed him,
Fulfilling his every desire, each whim.

So the piper keeps playing his tune,
Hoping to find his mistress soon.

But tonight, something was wrong,
Dark it was, it now seemed long;
Midnight was past, but no one came,
The hours were silent, the hours were same.

And the piper, he was but man,
Cursed it all, himself, and his bungled plan;
And as he moved away from that shore,
He heard his tune from the night before.

Had a new piper come to town?
His displeasure was great, so was his frown;
But then the piper smiled, he said with a grin,
Old roots must eventually make way, for Green.

Phew!

2008-08-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Phew!

A month long ordeal finally seems to be at its end. My first project that took me to the depths of the “Share Jungle”, through stocks and shares (and God knows what not!) has finally allowed me to have some grip, some kind of a control. I never knew how much effort I could actually put in (being adept at leading such an effortless life all through my college days) and so it was an exhilarating experience, at breakneck speed. But now most of that is over, so phew!

Also, my French course is over for now. So I shall enjoy some freedom in week-ends. I had been really hard-pressed for time and was very much nervous before my French exam. And the chaos the girls created right before the personal interviews helped lower my mercury a bit more. They ‘ghera-od’ (the term has created its own niche, in context of Jadavpur and Singur) the interviewee as soon as he/she came back from the session and made a whole lot of noise. And ‘yours truly’ had to maintain his calm and focus amidst all that, and ‘yours truly’ truly felt that that was a remarkable job. As for the exam, it was “facile comme bonjour!”(French is a feminist language, for it makes you sound so snobbish!)

August is at its end, and with September autumn comes. Autumn, I’ve cherished always. And autumns have been rewarding. So I wait………

With all due respect...

2008-08-24T11:20:00.000-07:00

There are a lot many peculiar things happening around me and yet I’ve been so oblivious! For example, I have known a certain person for quite a long time. This person I’m talking about is a very honest fellow, and very down-to-earth [and god knows I have no intention of defaming him]. Last month he appeared for a lot many interviews; he cracked none. And though it was completely insignificant that I should come to know of the reason, nevertheless I was made aware of it. It had so happened that the man saw it fit to put on a very healthy smile for his passport photograph and had presented the same at the time of interview. And it was one of those unique one-sided sardonic smiles that instantly puts you on your guard, and you refuse having to do anything with one who wears it.
Now I usually dig deep, and here there was a gold mine going to waste! So I intended to pursue this man’s life-story and immediately got to work. And here are some very interesting facts that I learnt:-

In his earlier days in order to get to office, this man had to frequent the ferry. For those living in the outskirts of the big city, this is quite common. And it is also very common that these people who frequent the ferry so, may actually end up late on more than a couple of occasions. So one day he was late. And as he hurried to the shore he saw the launch drifting away. He didn’t have much time, neither to think nor to act. He measured up the distance, pulled up his pants, and then with a war-cry he jumped.
He had over calculated. Not by much though. Infact, he did land on the boat, albeit with one foot. But the momentum had been too overbearing. The people on the shore and in the boat must’ve been very amused to see such a composed ballet act during the tense, busy morning hours. And I am told he had that same smile on his face when he was fished out of the river.

An interesting man has interesting friends, and they will ordinarily indulge in very interesting past-times. So they did. In the post-dinner sessions, they would gather to play cards. And sometimes these sessions would extend a little beyond normal bed hours. It is not so much that they enjoyed the game, but the lot of the one who was to loose. That person would be subject to the whims of the winner, and sometimes, I am told, these whims would extend to be…..well…..whimsical. Now, one day it was time for our dear little fellow to loose, as he lost quite often. And as punishment, he was to draw (for he had a reputation in that aspect of fine arts) a bus. Simple, and uncomplicated. And after an hour long struggle he produced his masterpiece. Now everyone who was fortunate enough to discern that fancy sketch has confessed that it was very genuine. That they have never witnessed so much done with a scrap of paper and a much-chewed-over pencil. The artist had been so witty, that he had been able to produce the front, the top, the bottom, both the sides, and the back of the bus in one 2-dimensional surface, thus putting all his predecessors (artists and engineers alike) to shame. But his ingenuity did not fetch much praise from his peers, and they refused to let it pass as art at all. The world, we all know, is cruel to budding revolutionists. So, he was made to redraw. This time around, however, they were lenient enough to allow him a “Draw-as-you-like” decree.
The man had been an employee with a nut-n-bolt factory then and said that he would draw a nut. Simple, and uncomplicated. He had begun with that same silly smile on his face; after all, for six years now, he’d been seeing nothing but nuts and bolts. But soon, his face began to loose its former luster. Fifteen minutes in, it wore a very cloudy expression. And half-n-hour later he wore a countenance so shocking that his friends had to forcibly wriggle out the paper from within his grasp. I am told, that that piece of paper was preserved for a long time, and that it was brought to public view on many an auspicious occasion. As for the artist, he had yielded completely and begged for the most unpopular of punishments, a mild electric shock, taken in the tongue, and had obliged thus every other time he lost.

Coincidences

2008-08-10T10:22:00.000-07:00

Funny thing with coincidences,
They have a story of their own,
How a letter long lost,
Finds its purpose, so near,
At the throw of a stone.
The object of my affection,
Forever elusive, and so untraced,
Finds its way back to me, quite strangely,
And I am at a loss.
Once again I hear the same hum, same drone,
As I stoop to pick up a sovereign,
Right beneath my chair.
What feelings reach me then?
I know not, but I know,
That I am washed up at a familiar shore.
The water here tastes the same,
Only if a little bitter,
They say ‘it’ never tastes the same.
And I am confused once again,
Who to follow?
My love or my shame…

Listless

2008-07-30T23:00:00.000-07:00

It’s been a month……

Since then many things have come to pass. I am, as of now, the same person, I used to be. I have inside me the same silliness, and hopefully the same madness. I thought that this new life, as a consultant in an MNC firm, would bring about a change. It’s been a month…….and I see, the same silly me.

Not that I desired a change, but there could have been some, there should have been some.
For instance, I knew that my initial training was to be in my hometown. But my final posting could’ve been elsewhere. And unlike most of my friends from college, I was not dead against it.

I’ve always been somewhat of an introvert, not very outspoken in the least. They could’ve placed me in S.A.P. It would’ve required me to pack my bags every now and then and set out in cross-country sojourns. That could’ve been something new, some change.
But I was placed in F.T.S instead. I do not rue that because forensics has its charms but then again…… (you know what)….

If I’ve ever hated something in life, it is normalcy. And believe me I do everything so that it spares me. It was not easy. It took a lot out of me at times. But I must confess that I always had the reigns in my hand, that not for once did I loose control. Though sometimes I had people thinking otherwise [winks].
Now, as then, the task is difficult. There is too much discipline around, too many restrictive forces at play. I have no issues with them. But I wish chaos. Well disciplined chaos, just a bit of it. For I’ve always believed that chaos was a necessary evil.

P.S. A solemn request. Do not read too much between the lines. “No work and no play” is gravely irritating, and I am human after all. Sometimes it is wise to succumb to the charms of boredom. This post is a byproduct of that and that alone. Maybe I shall be in a better mood next time around.

My 1st week in PWC

2008-07-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

30th June, 2008…..I joined Price Waterhouse Coopers Pvt. Ltd. as a consultant in Performance Improvement. Since then, a week has passed. This entire week I’ve been busy, busy, busy…I don’t quite remember when last I had so much to do in 7 days. Having said that, I can’t deny that I am having a good time.

They are pretty strict here, at the least they try to be. But all of us have seen much of strictness, and dealt with it. Now who are “us”? We are 28, 7 from JU, and the rest from IITs & BITs. Not all have computer or electronics background though; we even have chemicals and mechanicals. And together we are a mischievous lot.

We are undergoing a 1-month training at present. After that we’ll be assigned to our respective SBUs. On our 1st day, they made us fill forms. Filling forms can be cumbersome. They made us sign documents, forms, applications, what not! In the end I was not even reading what I was signing, and breathed a sigh when it all finally got over. It took a hell lot of perseverance on my part.

The 2nd day, we had our general induction. Lengthy speeches, boring speeches, flourishes….seven hours non-stop. Our official timing is from 9:30 to 6:00, but I was let go only after 7:30.

The 3rd, 4th and 5th days, we had initiation in basic data structure. And I quite liked it, well..... most of it.

And I was almost forgetting the most significant thing, the FOOD! To say the least, it’s nothing short of marvelous. They feed us well, too well for my liking. The company pays for most of what we eat. 13.50/- for chicken biryani (as many helpings as you want!!!) is a little cheap, isn’t it?! I constantly remind myself to be careful, lest I return to my former self [sighs]. And then there’s coffee, being consumed dangerously. I find myself miraculously standing before the coffee machine at every break. This must be stopped.

We have Saturdays and Sundays off, but there’s no respite for me. I have to go for my French lessons at Alliance Francaise in the morning. I don’t know how I shall survive all this, having been so lazy my entire life. But then I feel that I shall adapt. Thankfully, I am not too bad at that.

A demain

2008-06-29T11:02:00.000-07:00

15 more minutes to go...after that I shall be a student no more...after that I shall be... ... ...

This is my last blog as a student, and see, the words have already stopped flowing...
I'm happy for whatever I did, whatever I accomplished, whatever that eluded me....I'm happy for everything and everyone...
I'm even happy for myself, I couldn't have played my part better, I did not wish to...

5 minutes to go...and the words are still not flowing. So I shall stop here...

Wish me luck, and pray that peace be with me...

Lull

2008-06-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

Turning the tinted, yellow pages,
Weathered and somewhat torn,
I remember a light that has long been,
Seeking life in things unborn.

Darkness was provoked, stillness was stirred,
Thoughts scurried in that tamed chaos,
A thumping heart on the platter,
Served with love-garnish, and bitter hate-sauce.

That storm lost me many things,
My sight, and that boyish charm,
And I had strayed past my boundary,
Into a sanctuary, free from further harm.

I was stout and stubborn once, but still,
My daemons have chased me away,
Showing once again him who rules,
That the Devil still has sway.

My songs are now no more sweet,
Neither does my write reek of pain,
A glum shadow of disinterestedness,
Musing over the loss of a prolonged disdain.

My Nightingale has lost her melody, it seems,
Ahhh! Her voice now is full of scorn,
And I sit by my window, contemplating,
The night that settled from a glorious morn.

Whispers and Cannonballs...

2008-06-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

Everybody is leaving. Our gang as we have known… is breaking. True, we have all vowed that we’d never forget each other and stuff. True also, that we’ll all meet at the Pujas. But then, I should doubt that it’d ever be the same. There is more to the concept of time, speed and distance than 10th standard arithmetic.
And everything is happening so fast- “You blink and you miss”.
And all of this has got me so properly messed up, that I can’t even recollect the exact chronology of things. So I shall be jotting down certain excerpts, and trust the reader to be considering enough to get some meaning out of this…

***
The usual Round-table conference in JU[ minus the table, we see only green as far as the fields stretch]. People coming up with weird topics and bizarre polls, for example, who’d you choose to be your brother-in-law [to be picked among those sitting there], who’s more vulnerable to have an extramarital affair [and to think that one of us pulled more votes in both!!!], the most irritating person in the 4 years and lastly beauty/makeover tips for everyone [although I don’t put much stock in growing a beard in near future].

***
The t-shirt fiasco: I’d like to thank Sagar for making our departmental t-shirt see the light of day [only when we could wear it no more].
I’d also like to kill him for making a complete mess of my t-shirt design. For me, heart has always come first, then my art. No, I can’t simply let him go scott-free this time.

***
Sunday night at Eden. My first visit there. Never could believe its glamour and its glory. Last thing all of us did together. I depart early, tables are turned, Sourav’s bat speaks and KKR rides to victory. I missed the show, and came home flabbergasted. And those last words before I’d left, “Hath ta to miliye jaa, erpor to mone rakhbi naa mone hochhye.”

***
Two days later. 5 a.m. I send an sms while taking a morning stroll. Half-n-hour later my cell phone rings. I bid goodbye to the only person who came closest to understanding me in recent years. The sun begins to rise and strikes my eye. The morning sun is known to be mellow, but it scorches my eyes.

***
A week before all this, all of our gang’s at Budge-Budge, and we’re standing by the riverside. From nowhere a storm appears, typical Nor’wester, and wrecks havoc. People run for shelter, the boats drifting midstream hurry ashore, while we stand ground, hand in hand; not so much to defy the forces of nature, as to define the human-bond. The spray on our faces smells sweet. Someone sings a Dylan. In the end even we make a run, nine odd boys in an auto, soaked through-n-through, the rain biting down hard.

***
Two days back, I’m chatting with a very elated friend in Hyderabad. He is happy(!?). He is free. His taste buds have taken to the local biryani. He asks whether I’m still having sleep related problems. And many other stupid questions he knows the answers to. I oblige him. He talks about the weather there and the seemingly impressive abundance of the fairer sex. I suggest he take up blogging seriously, and he threatens that he’d be a better write. And then laughs as I frown. He knows that my ego does not permit being done in by someone of my own sex. Damn! He knows a lot about me.

***
Months ago, as I was opting for a second job, I sat for the interview at Samsung. HR round, a very grouchy looking fellow asks me, “So how’s life going?”
“Great!”
“You mean to say you are enjoying it?”
“Every moment.”
“Are you into something new?”
“Yes, very.”
“Then share it with us.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Er....what?”
“It is kind of personal.....the matter is....very close to my heart.”
A disgruntled shrug of shoulders greets me, and two very annoyed eyes.
I am not saying that I would’ve cracked that interview otherwise, but, as it were, things would’ve been very different then.

***
Every memory is fading. I wish these words to be true.

The last year in college has been the most tumultuous and most beautiful of my life, most certainly so. Each page from my past, each remembrance woven together forms a fiction too damn fantastic to believe. And most of it, like I said, too damn personal to share.
A thing of beauty may be joy forever, but its memory, decidedly, is not. And so I’ve half a mind to pay a brain surgeon a fortune to whitewash this permanently. A recycle bin won’t do for me; I’ve to summon up enough strength to press Shift-n-Delete.

Sleep

2008-06-04T22:53:00.000-07:00

Why don’t you fall asleep?
My dear, my little cup of sugar,
Why don’t you sleep…?
Don’t worry, I won’t hurry,
I shan’t leave you while you sleep!
I am no coward girl,
So learn to be brave…
Tonight sleep with your eyes shut,
Tonight have your dreams once again,
I am by your side,
And I made a promise,
That I shall keep your nightmares at bay,
The ghosts that haunt you,
Shall be no more,
I shall haunt them far, far away…
So sleep sugar,
Sleep with a smile painted across your face,
And maybe if I watch you,
Then I shall learn what it is to be free,
Perhaps maybe then… I shall learn to sleep again!

The Send-off

2008-05-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

A peculiar send-off this,
No guns blazing, trumpets none,
A peculiar army this,
Men carved out of foolish boys,
Bred together, taught together,
But leaving for battle on different fronts,
On distant shores…

Some leave early, some not so,
And some stay back, and grumble…
Noble deeds await,
And titles, and the silver shine…
And the shadows they leave,
Are shades that linger,
A peculiar send-off this,
The past buries the future.

A peculiar send-off this,
No confessions made, none whatsoever,
Secrets padlocked in bedroom closets,
Left to rot and wander…
A peculiar send-off this,
Dried eyes and aching texts,
Where a bashful charlatan,
Bids farewell to a few good men.

The broken wire

2008-05-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

3 of my semester papers are over, 2 to go………
And to think that past this 12th, I’ll have to severe all the ties that had bound me for those 4 years…
This feeling isn’t new, No. I have had to leave school; that was painful. I have had to leave high school; that was pretty okay. But each time, I was also happy; I had proved my mettle and I was going to better places…and I loved it back then.
Now what do I look forward to? A cubicle?
Some of my friends seem to have the idea that with this new life, money shall come. And with money they’ll buy independence.
I was independent to begin with. I never was answerable to any one except perhaps my mother. And obeying her; I loved that……… I love it still.
So no false illusions of independence for me.
“Take whatever comes in your stride with a smile.”!!!!!
~Spare me the sermon, be so kind.

And then there are certain things, certain confessions that never were made and haunt me still. This few days, I am finding it very difficult to sleep. I go to bed latest by 2:00a.m., so that Maa has no reason to shout at me. But it strikes 4:00 and I am still awake.
… … … and one fine morning, I think it was the day before yesterday, as I leaf through the newspaper this catches my eye - - -
“Don’t blame your self if you can’t sleep at night, it is not stress (!), it is just the heat.” … … …imbeciles.

And they have come up with a new nickname for me, and its about time too. “Taar-kata”: broken-wire………hats off to ‘bhombol’ for this one… … …yesterday we were having our routine tête-à-tête after the exam, and as I’d been silent for quite sometime, one remarked, “…what’s wrong with you boy, why don’t you speak?”
~” Aami je taar-kata!”
I don’t know what made them laugh then… … … I didn’t.
In that uneventful evening I lost my glasses… … …and possibly the storm took them away, for I could find no traces, none at all.
“Things that are lost better leave no traces, or one ends up chasing after them.”

~Wires that are cut, are cut for good.

Fare-thee-Well

2008-04-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

My life began from you,
A metaphor yet so true;
And foolish me, I tried,
To shed you off, like a dead leaf.
But last night the cursed itch
Came back again, it hurt again,
Now that I’m going away,
And that you should stay.

And as I looked back, I acquiesced,
It was not the touch of your hand,
Or the glimpse of your sunny face,
That made me smile;
But that you are in my radius,
That you are close by,
Made me earn each breath I breathed.

And you may already be wondering,
(though I surely feel you’re not)
“Why does this boy write alone,
And speaks not a word?”
The answer to this I know not,
But perhaps I am too proud to be loved,
Or am I too frail?
It’s not that I have never judged you,
But always it’s been me I found wanting.

But you know that I write when insane,
And that sanity holds my tongue,
And in madness men speak truth.
In madness I speak the truth.
The insignia that you’ve given me,
I find it hard to rub away,
I never learnt to walk the middle path.
(Always somewhat of a bohemian)
And if I don’t love you babe,
Then I must learn to hate…

Curtains

2008-04-07T10:09:00.000-07:00

Ending days are near here, the bells will soon toll, and I look back to the four years that changed everything…

July, 2004, I forget the exact date (possibly the 5th); the day that this batch of JU-CSE began. Sixty odd boys and girls came together, on that most auspicious of days, and then it all began.

Some were lucky, for they saw familiar faces; friends from previous days…even rivals (for the word meant something back then). Others were luckier still, everyone was a stranger to them, and everyone was a potential friend. And everyone had a dream (yes all of us dreamt back then, and I believe they dreamt BIG; no restrictions were possible, no reservations apt).
… … … and oh yes!!! Everyone was ready to fall in LOVE!

The seniors were marvelous! And we experienced our share of the moolah called ragging. Not that we did not like it! Something so purely unconventional has its charms. So started our first semester… and that charm I was talking about! We finally had to give in to it, some as soon as the first semester (I was always a late bloomer and it took me three bloody semesters to be as charming as that) while some as late as few months back… … … and without much ado it can be safely said that the circle is now complete; “All them bastards have finally been deported to neverland, Capitan. And look at them fools; they are smiling with their dirty teeth out! Argh!” Charming indeed!

“Four years!” as soon as this phrase comes to my mind I let out a deep sigh. Has it been that long? “Twenty odd days left, possibly a month”- is it going to be so soon?
The time that is past, cannot be lived again, but the time that is to come… can’t we slow it down? To beat time we must run at least as fast as light, and that is precisely what I have been doing, what we all have been doing, running here and there in the campus’ field (and did you think we love playing cricket?!!!) and when tired lying thereupon (the grass was never so green nor did it ever smell so sweet; and the weather so frightfully beautiful!).

“Have you ever seen a supernova? A star explodes into a thousand pieces, each finding its way away from where the star used to be, away from each other as well- like sparks flying in all directions.”

Have I seen a supernova? .......... No. That is to say, not yet.

Lying there on the field, as we look up at the evening sky, the stars seem much closer now, as if all have gathered to witness the spectacle, our very own SUPERNOVA!
When men die it is not beautiful (and I am not much into romanticism that glorifies death); but we are not dying anyway… it’s just a metaphorical death, this. And the good thing with metaphors is that you can embellish them further. We began with dreams, yes? Some were lost in the way, and new ones took their place. Very well! We shall drink tonight and every following night to the health of the newest addition to our collection, the dream that this death is going to be beautiful for a change!

Amen! [chorus]

Last Few Months

2008-03-16T05:58:00.000-07:00

Last few months
I did many things,
Last few months
I ran wild;
My smile was returned to me,
As I once more became a child.

Last few months
I ate a little less,
Last few months
I lost weight;
When my queue had ended,
I again began to wait.

Last few months
I ran a lot,
Last few months
I danced in the rain;
My life was hurled from a catapult,
As I lost where I was meant to gain.

Last few months
I felt no scare,
Last few months
I met peace;
My heaven now belonged to me God,
Like the pond belongs to the Big Fish.

Last few months
I ran into a lot of money,
Last few months
I didn’t have to borrow;
To own myself a kingdom of joy,
I embraced a wee bit of sorrow.

Last few months
I wrote a lot,
Last few months
I embraced hope;
Everything went smooth, as I played the Hero,
Of my long cherished dream, my hand-written bioscope.

And that bioscope’s still on,
In theatres that showcase amateurs;
It plays to packed houses every Sunday,
My pantomime and a gala of moth-eaten caricatures.

"Just another Nightmare"

2008-03-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago,
I stepped into a messy quagmire.

_____________________________

At first I had had my inhibitions,
But then something happened,
Someone caught me by the hand
And said, “Come now, follow me,
There is nothing to fear.”
And so I let myself be led.

But the farther I went
The deeper I sank,
The damned stench of blood and clay;
And the all encompassing darkness…!
But none of these did my mentor feel,
As if he belonged there,
As if he were born out of that pungent mess.

I felt as if led by a Shade,
For where I was blind,
His vision seemed clear,
But the prefixes and suffixes
Of what he must’ve felt
Were blur!

But I did hold my patience
Even when everything around
Smelt of a kill, a Rat.
Until he gave me that Sinister Smile,
And I felt an inhuman chill
Crawl up my spine.
And then I ran, I ran,
Away from his sapphire gaze,
Till I broke free of that God-forsaken maze;
I was bathed in mud,
And I too now smelt of the Blood.

________________________________

It was long ago,
I stepped into that messy quagmire;
I found out afterwards,
It was just another nightmare;
But I still smell of the blood,
And whatever I touch, turns Clay.

A Dove’s Flight Home

2008-03-06T09:04:00.000-08:00

A white dove flies…
Above the dale o’ silver grass,
O’er the fields of golden wheat;
Far he has to fly,
To the land of olive trees.

The place where the white dove lived,
The branch which bore his nest;
That place is lost,
The branch now broken,
So the white dove flies.

The white dove flew,
O’er vales ‘n’ hills;
His wings stretched above
Forests of chrysanthemum,
Marshes with smiling daffodils.

The dove decides to stop,
Its wings demand rest;
The dove is out of breath,
Scarlet blood flowing out
O’ its deeply hacked breast.

How the dove received its wound
We do not know;
Cuts and burns have a story of their own.
Though he blamed the world,
It was a fault his own.

See the dove flies again!
Pursuing hope, false but fair,
To reach his new lair,
The olive tree, his Eden owned,
A paradise lost, a new one found.

Incendiary

2008-02-20T05:27:00.001-08:00

Burn baby burn!
Burn hard to reach me,
Burn till what is black, becomes white.
Don’t be afraid,
I shall collect your ashes from the dust and sand,
And wash my hands in the Sea;
Then maybe on some desolate shore,
You shall meet me once more;
We shall begin our story from there…
And perhaps this time,
Our little fairy-tale will have less blood, more glory.
So babe! Don’t worry,
Leave all else to me…and burn!
Burn as I once did;
You have burnt alone long enough,
A flicker it has been,
Now burn with me.

Malediction

2008-02-16T09:20:00.000-08:00

Love is a Malediction,
A shallow farce, a sullen act,
A work of unadulterated fiction,
An insipid feeling; untamed…
So frail, so fragile,
A painted leaf upon a petrified tree
From whence sprout the roots of life.
The leaf does not wither
Unless you want it to… True;
It weathers the Autumn,
Falls as you behold Spring.
So you see…
After all the mush and sauce,
Love is indeed against the Divine will;
Love is darker than the Night,
The scar it leaves is darker still.
The Devil's Snare,
Nature’s blaspheme.

Lost in translation

2008-02-09T22:07:00.000-08:00

I am so lost in translation
That all I want to say
Comes out wrong, makes me look a fool.
I try to discover means, albeit roundabout
To make her see the better way,
To tell her that I have no sway,
On the things I do, on the words
Spoken, reconsidered, regretted.
And how every time I try,
To write something beautiful
To make her smile;
I end up just as bad,
Writing my own obituaries… … …

My euphemisms are all old now
And my borrowed feelings just as stale,
This whole affair has begun to stink;
A proper nausea, the uneasy smell.
And each time I script this sulking story,
That has no love, speaks of no glory;
No knights here, no damsel in distress,
Not the Devil’s own,
Nor angels of fallen grace;
Each time I try thus to break free,
I end up just as mad,
Dancing upon my hand carved cemeteries… … …

For all I know, for all I care,
This story could go on;
For testaments are not meant for me.
And now that I have lost my religion,
Pursuing one god after another,
Sacrificing everything but my threadbare soul;
The Devil may take it
Not that I care much, no more,
Trivialities do not surprise me,
And oh so the masked glamour!
None of that for me, I have had enough;
For all the happy things done,
I end up just as sad,
Sketching my not so fond memories… … …

Hell hath no fury...

2008-02-03T05:48:00.000-08:00

Glorious o ignominious Love

Whence doth your fate rest?

Is it past the scaffold

Or through the gibbet;

A thousand questions, the dullest drone

All unrequited, some unspoken

Heaven’s blaze………in this twilight

All is sinister, all is dark

Stitched eyelids, they cannot see

That I walk upon a precipice

O Love, where doth she lead me?

To the land of mist, eternal smog

Beware Man! Fear the white gloved hand,

Remember! Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.

Devil May Cry

2008-02-02T21:09:00.001-08:00

Nervous, shaken, stirred,
I rise with trembling legs,
The earth 'neath my feet
Is firm,
The sky above my head, wet.
The tears that fall from thence,
I gather them with patience
For they bear testimony
That devils may cry
And sometimes angels do play games.

Odyssey

2008-01-19T19:38:00.000-08:00

Beyond the black waters
Beyond its farthest reaches
I went………
There were many with me
But I as always was alone.

The sea wrecked my ship
And I washed up on an Island…
Marooned alone in an even lonelier land
I paused for breath
Contemplating the Sun bathed sylvan sands
My back got backed
I felt the spray on my face
And the wind swept my feet
The water was calm, beyond was turmoil…

I stood and watched
For days to follow, numb and dazed…
Witness I did, the Sunrise
Weep I did, in the Sunset
And then Athena spoke to me
“My brave Odysseus,
O king of Ithaca! Listen……
Thy fate is in thy hands,
Their wrath proven futile
The Gods have proved their worth.
It is time……awaken…
Straighten thy mast, and once again
Cast your ship into the dark abyss,
Sail past Scylla and Charybdis
Do it for your men,
If you care not for yourself;
Give them hope,
Keep none for yourself……
That is your destiny…embrace your fate.”

And so once again
I bring out my carpenter box
My rusty tools, my dusty hammock,
40 days and nights I work
Relentlessly driven, raving mad
To create an ark so strong
That could sail the Seven Seas and beyond…
My journey soon would begin;
Home beckons………

Will-o'-the-Wisp

2007-12-31T19:20:00.000-08:00

I am a perennial gadabout
Who hath lived many lives of man;
I started with a world as flat
Come a full circle whence I began.

Seen the abstinence of the living
And the dying man’s greed;
Watched many a flower turn to stone
Saw many a leaden heart bleed.

Amidst the confusion, the tumult
I read the ailing verses from the Gospel;
My body was strong, my faith weak
I tried in vain to break the Satanic Spell.

Perplexed by the Hobson’s choice
Often I sunk to my knees;
To find ‘neath me a quagmire
The pungent aura of a thousand gadflies.

But the mirage holds erect: pulling me, pushing me,
Forever calling, my fantasy but did persist;
To a Neverland that I know too well
The State of Grace that does not exist.

Forbidden

2007-12-15T19:39:00.000-08:00

Why am I so despicable?
Why do I fidget?
Frustrated fool that I am,
Why do I so lack courage?

I stand before God
Yet I am faithless;
I’d come to his altar to pray,
I manage only silence.

I sit there for minutes……
Minutes seem hours;
And for hours I dream,
My prayers now forgotten.

Is it so difficult to ask
For the thing you want the most?
I wonder if my desire holds true
As I fail to utter a syllable.

Perhaps some prayers
Are never to be heard;
But what of those
That are conceived, but left unuttered.

Why is it that my lips are frozen?
That I am not allowed my prayer;
As if the Father of Eden himself
Warns me of the Forbidden Fruit.

The Secret

2007-11-24T22:27:00.000-08:00

Has it all been a farce
Have I lied all this while;
When did I learn to fake a tear
When was it that I forced my first forged smile.

I did learn to pretend then
Pretend the sorrow.......pretend the pain,
E’en did I feign the glow
While there was darkness still in my vein.

When did it all began……
Perhaps the day I owned a closet,
That I began to hide my skeletons
That I kept from me, my Secret.

And secrets once kept, they multiply
A seed, a sprout, a shrub, a tree,
They grow, they consume, they conquer,
All that is joy and glee.

But strange as I am
My success had but one key;
And when it did matter most
My beloved secrets, they kept me.

Phantasmagoria

2007-11-23T09:39:00.000-08:00

Tap your feet on the ground,
Dance to the tune I set for you,
The mood is set, the Heaven’s blaze;
‘Tis a starry Night,
……Dance in its afterglow.

Plateful of ambrosia, playful temptress,
Water spills, and rum flows,
Aphrodite’s forces descend upon you;
Submit you must, no way out
The music’s too strong, too mellow.

Dance till your head swirls,
Your legs go numb,
Sing your heart out;
This moment, this tide, they belong,
Take them…..they’re yours.

Dream along, stark awake,
For ‘tis still night,
And you love your dream;
Your own sketched Phantasmagoria,
……Dance in its afterglow.

Open your eyes

2007-10-15T11:24:00.000-07:00

Open your eyes girl
Open 'em wide and see
'Tis such a beautiful dawn
Clear, pure, fresh, alive;
Whence the charm that spawn.

Your sunup chin,
Your dazzling profile
Makes many a fair maid throw spite
Makes many a man’s heart flutter;
Handsome Phoebus does a shameful smile.

Oh! You have had your eyes closed
For so long, that you’re misled
And is it because of me
Do you hate e’en my face;
That, if true, I had not intended.

So open your eyes girl
And see me, I stand right here
With the sunshine on my shoulders
But with you in front
Who can hold back a tear.

Come on girl
Speak the truth, for I hate lies
If it not be your warmth
Do not give me that icy stare
At least make 'em long goodbyes.

An Ode to Love

2007-10-13T04:14:00.000-07:00

For all those who love Love

And love not much of anything else;

'Tis a fine life they lead

Mixture of feelings, a delicious cocktail.

But there are those,

That name Love a Folly;

Illusions, passions, fashions, fascinations

Of a frail insipid mind,

That lead to melodramatic sessions;

The Devil is in the details.

And if you ask me, I shall say

Love, for me, was a revelation, a vision,

Sudden death and resurrection;

That made beauty

Of a not so ugly Beast.

It was the brightest sunshine

That made me laugh

With tears in my eyes,

I had loved Love

And now, I loved its Feast,

The insanity, the romance, the Tryst.

My Last Bow

2007-10-12T23:07:00.000-07:00

Beneath the tree that is my namesake,
I speak to you, one last time;
You look at me with electric eyes,
That say so much;
Your face but is wry.
And then I leave you, I always have;
Walking away with lingering steps,
My heart so heavy, 'tis molten lead.
But then I turn, I face you,
Oh! I had a lot to tell,
My lot I'd wished to share;
And all I say,
"Shine on, my love,
Shine with all your glory,
Shine……..like a crazy diamond.
Pray to God that I meet my peace,
And I shall pray for thee,
May the man you love, love you;
May your Love
Be purer than me."

Little Miss Norrington

2007-10-12T23:05:00.000-07:00

Little miss Norrington
Was far from a simpleton
She knew how to butter her toast
Her charms worked well on men
She took them to her kitchen
And there she put them on roast.

Little miss Norrington
She liked the taste of mutton
But man-flesh was her favourite
A glassful red wine
Went along just fine
She said, "Bon appetit".

Little miss Norrington
Couple yards silk, fancy collaret and button
Oh! She knew her looks could kill
Once out on a holiday
On some distant bay
She nonchalantly murdered Bill.

Little miss Norrington
Once her beauty was gone
None ever came at her door
Her charm having been worn
She became forlorn
And this is where the story ends, I won't tell you no more.

Cliche

2007-10-12T23:04:00.000-07:00

When I was still very young
I promised myself one thing
That I would never allow my life
To become a cliché
That I would make the most of it
Make it large
Make it a metaphor.
Indeed…….

So here I am now
Trying to form a picture
By putting together pieces
Bits and scraps of my life
Like a child figuring out the patterns
Of a broken, old kaleidoscope.
And what do I find
In that dark purple haze
Images that I cannot decipher
Memories that I cannot erase.
Forgotten dreams, forgiven whims
Winter, spring, summer, autumn
Twenty years of blood and sweat
Ten years of conscience
Seven years of puberty
Two years of dissonance
And two months' worth resurrection
For a lifetime of compliance.

I must make do with clichés
For metaphors are not at hand……..

My Immortals

2007-10-12T23:02:00.000-07:00

I was a dreamer, I was born one,
Not that I had a choice in the matter,
Nor there was anything to be done.

And oh! How I dreamed!
Fancy seeing a face so red,
So flushed that it beamed.

I dreamt of beauty, I dreamt of dreams,
I dreamt of all that is good, is God,
I dreamt of savouring the cream of creams.

Dreams that remain unspoken,
Like a Dove's wings,
That stretch only to be broken.

And foolish me! I thought,
My dreams, my immortals will survive,
Beyond my life, beyond this drought.

I tried to write them down,
On a piece of paper,
Old, withered and light brown.

But each time I made a scratch,
The ink spread,
It left a dark, wet, messy patch.

And each time I cast a letter,
Each time I finished a line,
Disappear they did beneath the paper.

Finally when I was done,
It looked a wondrous mess of things,
It looked as though I had come undone.

My own dreams I could read no more,
They seemed as though they were lost,
Like some long forgotten folk 'n' lore.

I was vexed by such illusion,
Haggard, hassled I sat,
My dreams! Were they but confusion?

And then suddenly the West wind blew,
My paper turned, it flew,
Underneath I saw a view, a mystic hue.

All the poetry was now gone,
But the ink had seeped through,
And it gave me reason not to moan.

For my dreams had not failed their duty,
My immortals were now dead,
But the shadow they'd left….. was Beauty.

Remember Me...

2007-10-12T23:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in the Night
When I'm all alone,
I remember a face, a vision
So bright, so pure,
And I say,
"I know your face, My lady
You are my first love,
I owe you my grace."
And she says,
"Forgive me, forget me,
Be at peace.
I was never yours,
I was not meant to be."
And then I say something
I have said a thousand times before
In my head, in my dream,
"You are long forgiven,
Why! I never had anything against you,
But you shall not be forgotten
Not ever………
For if I forget you, my life
What then shall remain of me?
And I ask you only this
For the sake of all
That is good, all that is Love,
Remember Me………

Drought

2007-10-12T22:59:00.000-07:00

Is it that I am loosing my grace?
Poetry does not come to me anymore
Like it did on the first days of Autumn;
Winter approaches, dark and cold,
With a promise to snuff out the light,
The passion that burns within.
Will it end so soon?
But I do not wish it to end,
It is not because I am bored or wicked,
Nor is it that my Love is dead,
I did mean every word I said,
I always have …
But I fear, this I dread,
It would render me fallible again.

In which I die...

2007-10-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

I have blood on my fingers,
Mortal wound in my soul;
Death's hounds have picked up my scent,
'Tis time, the bells have started to toll.

Though I know my fate is sealed
I run, I refuse to give up;
There is no hope this wound be healed,
For I have drunk from the poison cup.

I bang my head at every door,
I look into every dark hole;
But nowhere am I welcome,
No place to hide my murderous soul.

Suddenly I see out of the corner of my eye,
A figure, hooded, cloaked,
Approaching me in light foot
I grow pale with fear.

I feel the ice in his breath
He raises his hood, I see my face;
The dagger descends upon me
And I cry "Malediction".

Incoherence

2007-10-12T22:52:00.000-07:00

Love is like a Sandstorm,
It blows hard, makes you blind,
Buries you six feet under
'Tis the Tomb of Sand.
And if ever you arise
When the storm is over;
What then flows through your veins,
Is not blood, 'tis the Bloody Sand.
* * *
If thee cannot weep,
If thy sorrow is so much deep,
Thou must bleed;
For grief shall not be bound.
* * *
All my life I've lived by a code,
The code is simple;
Then pray, tell me, oh why today!
Everything I held dear,
Do I wish to gamble.
Madness! What Magic is this!
* * *
Acrid smoke and tongues of flame
They scorch your very form,
You try to put it out with the Darkness inside,
You find only light; all in vain,
The fire burns.
And then you become desperate
You try to hide it beneath your coat
The glow fades for a moment,
And then bursts forth with all its might
Burning your coat, your chest;
The fire is dead but your passion still burns.

A gaze that was held...

2007-10-12T22:43:00.000-07:00

1

Men are wretched things
They build castles out of thin air;
Oh! Why do we try to read so much
In just a look, an ephemeral stare.

2

Confused as he was, he could not have said,
What was in those eyes, that stare;
Was it pity, perhaps sympathy or e'en hatred,
Could it be Love?
He could not perceive, he did not Dare.

The Lone Rider

2007-10-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

The battle cries fade in the distance,
The blood in the sky mellows.
Into the land of the setting sun
The Lone Rider rides;
Into the West he goes.
*
The Rider was valiant once,
He used to be brave.
But today he flees
Lest he should fall;
In his heart he fears this.
*
And so he betrays his native land,
His duty, his friends, his King;
For though he had no Achilles' heel,
Aye! His heart's love
He simply could not kill.
*
The Rider rides hard
As he nears his home again,
His steed froths in its mouth,
The earth melts under its shaky legs.
"Bear with me a little more,
My noble friend, my brother",
So saying he spurs it on
"Soon, we'll be home again".
*
But alas! The Rider knows not
What destiny has in store,
What be his fate.
For as he fled from his duty
His king had said,
"Deserters shall be hunted down like Dogs!"
And sure enough, behind a bush
In the form of an Ambuscade,
His Doom, his Death chose to wait.
*
They speared him, stabbed him, made him bleed,
But he did not stop, though he could not breathe.
"Bear with me my friend, my master",
He thought he heard his mare speak,
"Soon, you'll be home again".
*
And as his horse leapt
O'er his garden hedge
His head swayed, he fell with a thud.
He was home, and so he slept.
The auburn sky above him was dry
Only his faithful steed stood by him;
Alone it stood and it wept.

Cowboy and The Lady

2007-10-12T22:18:00.000-07:00

Out of the Red Clouds of the Morn,
The Sun breaks through.
The Land wears a Scarlet cloak.
'Tis an early hour, and the townsfolk, they sleep.
The faint trot and the horse's neigh;
Become clear as The Cowboy comes through.

A window opens; a face, a vision;
There is the Cowboy and there is The Lady.
The Cowboy bows, and gallops away.
He'll be back, at Day's end,
For that faint smile and that pink blush.
And this'd go on, like a never ending dream.

* * *
But all good things must come to an end.
One day, at Sunset, 'neath the window,
There was the same Cowboy; there was no Lady.
And the following day, the Cowboy returned,
The window now was closed.
And it remained that way;
For everyday the Cowboy returned,
He found no blush, he found no rose.

Months passed, then years, and then.....
Oh! He must have lost count.
For his hair grew silvern
And his mare was now old.
But in all those years, not for once
Did he give up his perch,
No, he could not abandon his Post.

* * *
And then one day, as the Cowboy drew near,
He saw a young lad, twenty and one years old;
Perched 'neath the window, now open
His gaze fixed on a fragile yet delicate form.
The Cowboy cleared his eyes, they were blurr
And saw the same smile, the same face,
Though much younger.
A teardrop rolled down his cheeks.
He motioned to the young man and said,
'Be wary, my son. Heed my warning,
For Evil is not necessarily Beast, 'tis Beauty.'
And some time on, the faint trot was heard again,
O'er the distant hills; the Cowboy had left,
Ne'er to return again.