blank on a winter day

It is almost a fortnight into November. The winter is sweet yet.... the mildness of the sun, a caress. Softly time slips through the hours, each hour bathed in light and dressed in perfume of some faint scent. The harsher cold of later months is still a memory from last year but the memory of the scorching summer is still burnt in my mind. Each day it is still a surprise to wake to gentleness.... to this softly sighing weather.

I know there are places where it is already snowing and I know there are people who will suffer from it and I wonder if I am being callous in enjoying this munificence yet to not enjoy this wintry feast would be small minded.

My mind has been pushed by blankness under muddy waters and when that happens its difficult to keep my eyes open, heck, its difficult to even breathe then. I have to struggle to push my head above and gulp some air to keep afloat.

To begin with I was an enthusiastic person but over time, I learnt to sit still and not want anything. Stillness is a fine thing but not when it is paralyzing. I have curbed my desires to the point I have only memories of them. I believed that one must control one's wants, which is a fine thing but I have realized that too much of this can make you numb. Wanting leads to taking steps to getting it but I have seemed to lost that part. I tell myself to learn by wanting little things but its something I need to re-learn. Will I be able to learn this? I have yet to know.

I know there are people who suffer from wanting too much. Those people are caught up in a vortex of wanting and consuming and yet not sucking the joy from those moments. However I stand at the other end of the spectrum from them and not so strangely in a roundabout way right next to them.

a music note

you know the thing about trance is that it catches you between its unrelenting beats and wont let you stop till you are too tired to move anymore. the thumping beats rule your heart and pushes out all else. with hip-hop you feel sexy and with some others you feel like a kid, some turn you into a rebel and some just set you free. music is when it moves through your heartbeats. it is music when you can hear a feeling and it is music when colours and shapes come alive to the beat, which moves through them.

also of moon beams and lizards

i want to write about something light and frothy today, let me write about you. oh there i go again! the night air is sweet, the moonbeams are dancing in the courtyard, solitary dancers. why is my mouth bitter.

so many beautiful things perish without being celebrated or cherished. souls, sounds, sights, the unsung many. yet nature goes on creating these little moments of joy regardless of appreciation. is its supereme self-indulgence or is this a pointer to us, to create beauty in little ways. wearing the colour of sunsets always makes me feel beautiful

a lizard slithers down the wall and before it hits the bottom of the floor it leaps to the curtain across the wall, misses but in a moment is climbing the curtain again. it lives between these walls, its home. it never scares me. i always side step when an ant crosses, can never bring myself to kill it and yet i know if it hurts me i will.

the streets of love are in another town. the moon outside was eclipsed on an another night. james white plays in my head when i want to be happy yet i cant hear him today. his sweet baritone is sexy.sexy as my mood when i want to be. U2 on the streets of newyork singing about you.

somedays are empty and some minds are so. on days like these and for minds like these is rambling and so i ramble. clothes of spun gold, cheerful and shiny like me but its not always so and i'm not always this dark but i let the ink spread on this space, a blot to drain my darkness.

3times55

He said

I, imagine
Your breath
Sweet and scented
Intermingled
With mine

I imagine
Your fingers
Soft and supple
Interlaced
With mine

I imagine
Your lips
Slightly parted
Waiting
For mine

I said
Sweet sir
Your imagination
Flows like the
Rhine

But I’ll never
Be thine
So go and suckle
On
Gherkins
Pickled in
Brine

Fuchsia chiffon dress
Handkerchief hemline
Only for 55

Prada gloves
Sumptuous
merely 55

Slim volume
Of 18th century verse
To be had for 55

Shortbread
With aromatic coffee
Just 55

Mobile recharge
Also available
For 55

Tickets to
Dharamsla
Can be arranged
For 55

Rock to
Coldplay
At 55

Pretty woman
At Hour by 55

I will love you for reasons more than 55
I will love you in ways more than 55
I will love you for years more than 55, god willing, health permitting
But if you mess with me, I will undo you in ways far more than 55
Your pieces will swish with uncle Corleone’s fishes

55 word-poem

cagey bee

trapped

i

withered into

nothingness.

and, you

into

shadows

which remain

caged.

Sehar

Its the month of Ramzan, the month for fasting, for controlling all evil desires and becoming a better person. The first meal of the day is before dawn...is called Sehri (seh-ree), from the word Sehar (say-hur), arabic for dawn. The fast starts at the break of dawn. It is the most peaceful part of the day. I usually have something substantial, some carbs, and some proteins and wash it down with a nice cup of tea. I'm usually supping alone and I don't mind the solitude too much. There are households where the entire family is fasting and then its as noisy and wonderful as mealtimes with families usually are. My mother insisted on getting up and giving me company and fried eggs for a few days but I asked her not to, as its too much for her, she has plenty to do in the day and since she doesn’t fast due to poor health, I asked her to not disturb her sleep for me. Still, almost everyday around dawn she will sleepily come into my room asking me if I ate well and I wanted anything. My heart goes out to her. Such things only mums can do for you, its not easy reciprocating such stuff.
After Sehri, I say my prayers quickly, surf the net a bit perhaps and then try to go back to sleep which eludes me for the next couple of hours. In fact, I have become nocturnal, sleeping away a good part of the day.... not ideal and something which I am told takes away points from my fast but since I’m in a position to do it, so I do it...albeit with guilt.

.... Well that was just to give everybody an idea of what Sehri is.

Somtimes comfort is found in the unlikeliest of places. Silence usually harsh is something i welcome at certain times. Sounds of silence soothes my mind. Deep in the night in the distance car tires burn up tarmac, speeding away chased by dogs car spotting away the night. The hum and drone of appliances starting and stopping and starting again, the clock ticks by...the only sound disturbing. I turn over and think of his smile, a little boy's smile, disarming and absolute. It is a rare smile, its got gentleness and it stems from strength. God keep his smile. A smile that rings in morning no matter what the time of day.

Light at dawn
Steals the sky
From darkness

torn

>>>>>>a torn kite

>>>>>>>>hangs by the wire

>>>>>>>>>>>>arrested flight or a happy ending?

beauty and the beast, a fairytale, a fable

ugliness and beauty float into each other
decieving
interchanging forms
and then back again.
you can never trust what you see.
beauty masked as a scar
or the scars left behind by beauty.
beauty and the beast are but one.
just a different side, just a different time.

strawberries and cream in a blender

music coursing through the body, heartbeats getting louder. baby move closer, its our turn tonight. feel my hips sway to your beat, let me close my eyes. take this world away tonight, dont let the sun rise on tomorrow. let this night be all there is. let us be all there is. we move apart, we come closer, you spin me around, oh baby my head's gone the way of my heart. i feel the music through you. i don't recognise you, you don't know me but you see the light in my heart and your hands will keep the winds away.

serenity i wrap around me, a cloak hiding the turmoil inside. will you hold me when it slips down my shoulders.... oh honey will you talk to me when i wake up in the middle of the night with nothing but darkness holding us together? when i scream, hold me down, if i run, wait for me. love will come for us with the sun. if you hold me i will make your dreams come true. i am not sweet as you my angel and i will scratch till you bleed but i will be there licking your wounds and i will make you a love sweeter than wine. oh baby let me be your girl tonight...not just tonight but for all the nights to come.

like little bits of torn paper caught in the backstream of a fast moving car, bits of words twirl before my eyes faster than i can voice them. like the sky turning pink at the coming of dusk, my thought turn pinkish at the thought of you. you who are not there, you who are only in my mind.

...thoughts the shade of crushed strawberries in cream

by the pond of stillness

the cackling geese align themselves along the edge of the huge putrid pond. a white line of noise parting the still green. it is covered with slime, no pelican, no herons here. the stillness of scum. long graceful necks balanced on awkward webbed feet look up to the sky, the geese sing a dirge. how long before it is their turn, nobody will sing for them. silly creatures with orange beaks and muddy feathers, protectors of the water, nestling in their dreams.

It is sad when cities let their oldest inhabitants die, used and yet uncared for.

the evening breeze on my sweat sparkled cheeks takes me across the miles to you. ah! these noisy birds, fly away, phsshooo now! i walk a little faster but still only in circles. i look over the dying pond. stillness is malignant. I have a strong urge to churn up these stagnant waters....to save it, to make it breathe again.

in the shade of trees
the birds sang and loved
we walked beneath

from the waters to the skies

prayers rise

i collected darkness of my heart

in cupped hands

prayers rise

i kiss the ground

surrendering to his will

with my prayers i rise.

time bits

rain
whipping her face
a hungry heart

dew
bending the leaf
tear drops

lost not found

tiny insect carcass
found - flat and dry
between pages.

glow worms
gone - lost
little lights.

night
sans moon
silence in the sky.

i hear her lilting laughter in your face in the darkness of this room.
making excuses, reasons for you, silently.
adding drops of silence in your coffee, bitter and no cream. always.
cat cries in the distance and i bite my tounge.
sea air rushes in unmindful of manners turning you over to me.
i bend down. the body remembers what the mind forgets. what it wants to forget.
gather sea breeze in your arms -lay it under my feet for silence squeezes my heart.

where does this sadness comes from? my heart grieves for wounds which it has not ...cries for losing that which it never found.

Thanks Finnegan

Finish every day and be done with it.

You have done what you could.

Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in;

forget them as soon as you can.

Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely

and with too high a spirit to be

cumbered with your old nonsense.

This day is all that is good and fair.

It is too dear, with it's hopes and invitations,

to waste a moment on the yesterdays.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

hmmm.......

“How come I am the only giving, all the time”, I asked my Mom. “You have started expecting way too much of people now”, was her exasperated reply. She was right, as usual. I was shocked. What kind of a person have I become? Somebody who keeps a mental auditing system? I don’t remember being like this. I use to enjoy giving for the sheer sake of giving…. I still give but the shrill voice of expectation strikes a jarring note.

Few days back, an astrologer told me that the letters G and P are ‘unlucky’ and hence I should change my name or its spelling. This bit was free and of course the correction would have cost me a couple of hundred bucks. Of course, I did not believe him but there was this niggling feeling that perhaps he is right. From someone who always considered herself as fortunate and blessed, I have started picking out patterns of misfortune in my life. Hardly a cheerful sport and the strange part is when I considered myself lucky, I use to feel better and positive, its the reverse now.

I am not an independent person. I have made many mistakes in my life but the worst mistake has been to neglect my dreams to the point that I don’t have any now. I sought to please. Perhaps I got convinced that as long as I would please others, they would take care of me. It doesn’t work that way or if it does then not for long but how do I take care of myself now, how is it done?

Well the one thing that I am beginning to grasp, tentatively yet, is that there is no such thing as a good life or a bad life. There is only interesting life or a not-so-interesting life. Furthermore the interesting-ness should be defined in narrow and wholly individual terms. It is my own person I need to strengthen, my will. There has to be a largeness of the soul, which should expand to contain more, but it should be rich enough to sustain me as well. I have no idea how to nourish and grow my soul thus but this is something I need to learn. How does one feed one’s soul?

At least my soul should be independent. That is what I need to learn. This is where I should begin.

dissolving

The curtain covering the window behind the computer, parts a wee bit and my eyes turn as if it were magnet to the glorious clouds, silver and dense in the pale blue sky. I will be leaving on Tuesday.

I will be gone for while. Time out for me. I am not expecting to find all the answers. A part of me wants to remain and wallow in misery but I have to find the energy to at least want to go on. I hope I’m not sounding too bleak here. I tend to dramatize perhaps and I would rather talk about cheerful things here.... I hate bringing others down with me or making them uncomfortable. It never does help, you know. A lil bit of it is fine but more than that is too much indulgence. Anxiety tastes like metal on the tongue and vinegar in stomach and you tend to get dissolved in it as if you were a piece of chalk in something acidic. Dissolving entirely, lost forever. I am just rambling here, maybe I need to.... a lil bit.

It is still early evening. I think I will go out...shopping is such a chore for me! I rarely enjoy it. By the by, I just finished reading, the world according to Garp by John Irving. I had never heard of the book before but I could barely put it down once I started it. Its a delightful, insightful book about life and death and loving and how hard all three are.

Bright blue
Burns
The candle's heart

Melting shadows
Dissolve
With the night

pardon me please

There is no power crisis in my city for there is no power...more than half the time! On top of that the power company has the gall to go around harassing people! The situation is so vile, please excuse my verbal bile but I have such fantasies of gratifying violent acts that I am doling out to these morons responsible for making an entire city suffer in darkness and stifling heat. Politics, corruption and poor management and the fact that its not the capital or a 'big' city to attract enough media frenzy to shame the giant machinery into some kind of decency. Its a city caught between the ruling national party on one side, the party ruling the state and the third party, oh well, it comes into action only when a mosque needs to be broken!

Am I losing perspective here, surely. I just read a factory-owner died of cardiac arrest on being troubled and terrified by the power company people for the bills, which he had paid. That is the power an Indian government official can wield, the power of life and death.

I just hate it when somebody is bullied so.

petite words

-How many kisses will it take from me, here to you, there? I asked him as I lay in white embroidered muslin watching his bare feet keeping time on the wooden tiles. He cocked his head slightly and smiled. – Why do u want to waste your kisses covering the distance? Why indeed? -Maybe because I want to tempt you and then perhaps, the distance once covered with kisses, might seem at least, sweeter. The petite ivory flowers on the muslin moved between my fingers.

falling

in the darkness

of your eyes

i search for light

the night presses me down

pushing me

under

lower

still

i slip

nails grasping flesh

my fall broken

by a promise kept.

searching for light

in the darkness

of your eyes

Tagged by Potted-Flower

Seven things I am thinking about... Now:

1. adult rating

2. hmm adult rating

3. ok, parental guidance on this one

oh well my brain is stuck in this rut, all my thoughts are x-rated right now, sorry! :(

Seven things I should be doing... now:

1. time for the evening prayer, so i should be doing that

2. wanted to pick up a book

3. had to go shopping

4. exercise...just not in the mood to sweat, have already spent half a day without electircity.

4. penance, i should be doing that all the time

5. visit my neighbours, something i have been thinking of doing forever.

6. ask somebody to make me a cup of coffee....yeah am lazy and spoilt!

7. get my tickets done for____

Seven things I would ask God if I actually believed in his existence:

Well i do believe in his existence, still...

1. do u love me?

2. are u angry with me?

3. why is there all this madness in the world?

4. how come people fight and kill in your name?

5. How come there are so many rules?

6. will you forgive me my sins?

7 will keep you my family together?

Seven things that I think are funny. Haha :

1. Mr bean

2. My 3 month-old niece when she talks to me, her expressions make me laugh so!

3. My freinds and I, when we are sad specially!

4. Melodramatic or emotional scenes in movies, especially when watching with freinds.

5. talking to pretentious persons.

6. listening to pretentious persons, especially when they want to sing.

7. life, ok now i am becoming pretentious! haha

Ok now I tag:

This is tricky, many people dont ejoy being tagged or wont do it, so this is open to whomsoever wishes to reply to this. You may post your replies here on the comment page or if you do at your blog, let me know, would like to read your answers.

Right now check out www.livinginpoetry.blogspot.com for Patry's interview. Seriously, she writes wonderfully, you can read her poems at www.waiteresspoems.blogspot.com or visit her blog at www.themarvellousgarden.blogspot.com.

on a random note

allow me to charm you.
let these words warn you.
a changeling, a dangerous creature.
keep me at a distance and you are forever mine.
will keep you dangling on a string.
carrying your bobbing heart
on a red string.

on somedays i like myself and on somedays i don't. there are days when things begin to make sense and then as suddenly the thread is lost and i am left grappling with the fast unfolding yarn, slipping out of my hands. I want to read words warm like claret on a winter afternoon. There is somewhere I have got to be, there is someone else i forgot to be. Sunshine on water a thousand stars dance. warm skin blushes to warmer hues of desire. a yearning a longing; dont want to be buried under ashes of unrealised desires.

Dearest, precious tomorrow

I hope to see you tomorrow. I hope you find me smiling. I have been waiting for you since eternity but you never kept your promise. Oh, why did you take so long!

Tell me, how will I recognize you? Will I know you by the image I carry of you in my heart? What if you are not the same? Will it make a difference to me? Ah!!

Tell me, have you too been waiting for me? They say tomorrow is but today revisited but is it true?

Why did you make me wait so??

I was not ready for you! Is that what you are saying? Oh so it all depended upon me and here I was all along waiting for you to show up. If I only I could have been ready earlier!

What is so funny…why are you smiling? Hmmm!

Yes I can see your point, first I waited for tomorrow, now I cry for yesterday, ah what a fool I am...thank you for pointing that out!

You already got me smiling; I can see you will keep your promise…I can hardly wait to see my tomorrow even if its different from what I have been expecting.

lessonets

For a long time now, I would feel that my ears were sort of blocked. My hearing was not affected so I did not bother about it but then the day before yesterday I felt a passing and brief spell of vertigo on waking up. It was a sort of a dizzy sensation and I felt a slight nausea too. I went to see the doctor about it later and he told me that it was to do with my ‘blocked’ ear…. it had affected my sense of balance. It is nothing to worry about and its not that bad either. He has given me couple of medicines for it but they make me feel drowsy and lethargic. Apart from that short dizzy spell, I felt ok better than what I am feeling now with the meds, am tempted to stop them. What stops me is what he said about if not treated it gets worse, so though there is nothing to worry about now, untreated it might be a problem later on.

Like all life’s problems; solve a tiny niggling problem now, even though it might not feel good doing so, will save you from a major headache later on.

Last night, when I was raiding the refrigerator, I found myself wishing that my life were like somebody else’s, to be more specific, that I was somebody else. It probably was the guilt at bingeing. It struck me that it would make little difference, if I were another, I would be simply exchanging one set of problems with another and further that each of us has been given certain traits specific to solving our peculiar set of problems. What difference does it make then which set of problems we are solving? Its my own peculiarities that I need to work upon. It is my own skirt that needs straightening. Only weak people like me wish for different circumstances. Besides could I handle somebody else's problems? I'd probably feel like a fish out of water there! Its so much easy to blame others, even if its that sinful bar of chocolate and that piece of cheese lying in the refrigerator! mamma!!

I think for me lasting peace lies in being able to master my own mind without tormenting it.

look away now

August is coming to a close now. I turn of the air conditioner to hear the softly falling rain outside. I dream of unseen places, of low doorways and white linen on wooden beds. Cold milk and some fruit on a table beside a large jug brimming with wildflowers. There are trees outside, old trees, with low-hanging branches. Perhaps there will be a table made of wood beneath the trees with a chair. I would like to sit there with my thoughts or better still listen to the wind in the trees and the birds and the silence with my feet caressing the grass beneath. Perhaps I will be thinking of autumn showers, sitting in that flower-studded meadow.

sucking fingers dipped in honey

and for breakfast i had tea.

licking lips laced with purple berries

and for dinner i had milk.

and so autumn begins

on a starry night with a full moon.

Cheers!!!

One of the best things about blogging is the interesting feedback. I am not suggesting that we blog for the comments but the back alley banter, a phrase Perfect Virgo used earlier makes for friends and is sometimes even better than the front page. That is what I think about my green post. It elicited such warm and wonderful comments, better than the post itself. Pecos Blue, posted photographs of the paddy field for me and Russell and Nasra were inspired to write poetry. Earlier, Angel-A posted pictures of roses and sweets for me and Joel picked up on how we all need friends. I got a mention at the desi pundit, Rumination, Blex and Every Seven. The woman, Pandora's box and Irina included me as friends and I am aware how childish I am sounding but it is a wonderful fuzzy warm feeling. I don't need to add how very fond I am of all my regular visitors and at moments like these I feel deeply, deeply moved!

I am an ordinary person living a small town life in a decrepit town in India. I have not traveled very much. To meet people of different customs has always been a cherished dream for me. Even as kid geographical boundaries did not make sense to me, they seemed to be lines decided by people I did not even know, let alone like or respect. This is before I learned about globalization and freedom of movement, intellectual capital and the World Wide Web. For someone like me, this has been an unexpected bonus. I have come across some of the most interesting and enchanting people, I know, here.

So here is to ALL OF YOU! Salute!

...and thank you Sue

Well. so what!

The government of Maharashtra has banned dance bars all over the state, including those in Mumbai. Furthermore it will not even allow the erstwhile dancers to work as waitresses in these bars. For those who are wondering what might these dance bars be, are they some kind of coked up version of Twinkies? Well, these are seedy little pubs sorta places, where men come to have a drink and to ogle at young girls dressed in shimmery lehanga-cholis (full ankle length and small blousons) and saris and garish make-up. These lolitas in ghoulish makeup dance to the latest bollywood numbers in a fashion that seems to me a cross between the bollywood dance style, the head-banging seen at darghas and the kind of neither-here-nor-there style of dancing at weddings. These places are not very expensive compared to the more high-end pubs, discos and lounges and their patrons tip the dancers.The dance bars were initially banned in Mumbai as the government felt it was downgrading the moral fiber of its citizenry.

Post August 15 the ban was extended to cover the entire state. The men who visit there seem to be all adults. If the government claims that it has done so because the dancing is only a cover for prostitution then also it doesn’t make sense. There are plenty of prostitutes working otherwise and maybe they could have tightened the laws and made it incumbent upon the owners to guarantee that no prostitution or solicitation was undertaken by its employees.I am even told that most of these dance bars were run with the blessings of the local policemen and politicos. The union of dance bars has decided to move court and fight the ban order. I hope they win. This hypocrisy on part of our government is sickening to me.

I might add here that these women are more modestly dressed than the ‘item-girls’ when they do their ‘item’ dance numbers, the recent trend in Indian movies. These actress-dancers are later invited to perform at various events and functions attended by politicians as chief guests. Its not much different from ‘nautanki’ though much more tastefully done and with higher production values. How can they then have the cheek to shut the dance bars, the trickle-down versions?

Although I may not agree with the taste and preference of the people who enjoy these performances, I fully support their right to their kind of entertainment. I am not claiming that these women get a good deal in such places, most probably they get a very raw deal and do it only because of lack of other viable options but how are we making it better for them by taking away their livelihood, by making them desperate?

lost in nothingness

estranged words, whispery and fluffy as clouds. bits of sentences twirling in a whirlpool raked by incomplete thoughts each one overtaking another. my mind feels like the freeway on a cold and windy day. if only i could catch them all down and turn them into words big and flowing like the river, then maybe they will carry me further into making sense of it all.

searching for nectar under august skies

Lick the words dripping off my wound. Lay kisses on my grave cold and neglected.

I pick your words, honeysuckle sweet. Wild as the breeze that blows the warm august sky.

It is the light in your bright august shine eyes, which will warm my cold heart.

Unshed tears in your eyes, sparkling stardust. My tears turn precious when they wash your face.

The nectar of your words going down my throat, with each drop my heart comes alive.

August comes winter will follow. Snow there won’t be but the sun shall come. An unending thought. Waiting for tomorrow. Have a nice weekend guys! toot, toot!

bitters

I could write about my old dog that died 11 days ago. I could write about how my, another dog alerted me when a monkey clasped my ankle and how I screamed him and his pals away. I could write about how I missed my friend’s messages when she was in china looking at the great wall. However I will not write about any of those today.

Like the sweetness in a fruit is a gift from god, abundance is a blessing only if so sanctioned by god. Abundance is only half a blessing. That which we have prayed for can yet makes us cry if he so wills it. In a blink a boon becomes a bane. My prayers have always been sort of a wish list but I am going to my amend my prayers now and ask him to make good for me in whatever I have.

My parents are coming home tomorrow. They had gone to visit my kid brother who lives in another city and I can’t wait to wrap my arms around maa. Her warm shapeless body is like a soft perfumed cloud which envelopes me in its warmth and soothes me with its fragrance. One has got a cold and another stomach flu; I hope they reach home safely. I worry about them. They are growing old. Its disturbing to see them so.

Skies cry
As people beg
"No more!"

Strong hands
Helping strangers
Smile

and the light goes green

Some greens which i like:

Green juicy apples
Green tomatoes, fried in a little bit of butter
Pale green leaves
Dense foliage.
Lettuce and peeled cucumbers
Trees
Deep dark green silk
Tangerine
Limes
Paintings of bamboo leaves
Mossy thick dark leaves
Olives
Olive green leather
Early morning sunshine on green grass
Rain, though it has no colour but for me its green because nothing makes greens greener than rain.
Spinach!

Then there are some which I don’t like:

Green eye shadow, not even on anyone else!
A particular shade of dull green on walls
The green which grows on long-gone-things
The greenish lime from hard water, which covers taps, block shower pores.
Slimy stuff.
Green jelly
Green coloured liquids
Green cardboard files, there are so many of them in this world!
Green bright satin
Green gooey paste of henna

I have typed green once too many times for now, so much so that I am beginning to wonder if I am spelling it correctly.

by the way, i have added a tag-board on the side-bar, feel free to post whatever comes to your mind there. :)

tattered

come to me. walk away with me. its getting harder to walk alone.

i'm the cracked earth at your feet,
the moon at your window,
the howling wind.

i'm broken at sundown,
dissolving in darkness,
melting in your tears.

if only, i could ask you to come away with me.

Will I be true or will my words be like the rest, fine and fallow?
Lay your hand on my heart. Look into my face. Tell me what you see.

I'm afraid to make promises. I have seen love die young.
When it dies there aint nothing you can do but just give it a decent burial.

the forever they talk about, i have been searching all my life. if love has a shelf life then why does it not say so on the bottle. songs of love lasting a lifetime are plenty but then why do these words sound like lies?

Still baby, tell me some lies tonight. these words will come true if you believe them. This heart might shine like gold, yet.

come to me. walk away with me. its getting harder to walk alone.

thank you!!

I have been so overwhelmed reading all the lovely and encouraging comments and emails to my last post that I feel I have no right to complain at all.
Thank you guys, it means a lot more to me than I can say here!

It is almost five in the evening and after a morning of unblemished sunlight, some naughty clouds have been gathering to make merry and wash us all down with some rain. Some silly friend of my cousin has come to pick him up and is honking like he has invented it, I want to drape him over the wheel and make him croak!

Drinking tea
Morning breathes
On moist skin

I have discovered that if you put a teaspoon or so of orange marmalade to a cup of green tea, it tastes and smells divine. The delicate smell of orange blended with the aroma of tea and the warm reddish colour of the drink, its totally worth trying.

Mama wants me to go out with her somewhere, anywhere and I am not in the mood to do so. I would have to change out of these dirty rags, put on my lenses etc not that I always do this but ma gets angry with me when I step out of the house looking like a crumpled bed sheet. If I don’t go, I will feel guilty so I guess I will, leaving you with a poem I found some days back. Heard a few of its lines in a movie, then a friend told me the name of the poem. Its by Dylan Thomas and it is beautiful. I went on to read some more of his poems and he is fabulous!!! Enjoy!

And Death Shall Have No Dominion

by: Dylan Thomas

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

me in the mirror

I have a problem. I get very deeply affected by issues in my little world. I get so perturbed and petrified that I almost lose my balance; I definitely lose my piece of mind. I hate this about myself yet I just don't know how to remain unaffected or at least not to this extent. These issues affect my life or the thing known formerly as life.

I am not a great beauty but I have a very transparent face. If I am feeling good, I can pass off as nice but I am feeling bad, I can give Salvador Dali serious competition. Harmony and peace are not just words for me; they must exist in my world for me to feel good. I am not talking about quiet and ambient music but more than that. Everything should be in its place, revolving own its own axis, happy in their world and I feel content. This is not a realistic way of looking at things.

When I give of myself I give totally from the triumvirate of mind-body-soul. A kind word, a cheerful smile, friendly banter, these are the things I give for and when I don’t get them I feel so rejected…utterly lost and angry. Oh I can be angry, though my rage is usually not a show which runs on many theaters, its usually for private and exclusive viewing, usually my own.

There is a nerve, which runs from my brow to my forehead which sorts of stands out when I am tense, and I look so very sad then. I looked at myself in the mirror just now and I turned my face away…for I could not bear to look at myself so…did not even recognize myself. The worst part was my role in it.

Nothing is worth these stifled sobs.

morning breeze
gently shaking
water from her hair

morning breeze
whispers
" keep looking"

secret cries

follow the scent of night-flowers to me. lay down now on sheets crisp and clean. my name on your tongue, secret cries. noises in my head drowned in your heartbeat.

togetherness

Old trees
Stand guard
All night.

........

Night sky
Blush-stained and bruised
Carries the moon.

on attraction

Is there any feeling more subtle, more delicate, more intoxicating and more delicious than the feeling of being attracted to somebody? I doubt it. Whether one chooses to act upon it or not, that is not the point. It may not always be wise to act upon such feelings and acting upon them might even break the spell sometimes.

However, just pause, consider and relish in your mind, how your body feels, your mind too the time when find yourself drawn irresistibly towards this other person. It is almost as transient as scent and as inexplicable too. Fragrance, leaves its traces on you that are there yet not quite; like a half-revealed secret, tantalizing. For somebody like me, who would rarely act upon such feelings, it has got an even more piquant taste to it.

There is a certain tiny fuchsia flower, which use to grow in my lawn in little pots. It had dark green leaves and its petals were very soft as petals will be. For some reason, I use to love rubbing the petals of this tiny flower between my fingers, and they would leave a faint pinkish stain on them. I would furtively rub that stain on my lips. Damn, Ma should have allowed me to wear lipstick much sooner. It was not as if it would colour my lips even slightly but still I liked my lips to be imbued with the grassy, slightly bitter taste of that flower, which only I knew was there on my lips.

Like a stain it leaves its marks on you, the telltale signs.

Sakura

angel-A: dear Gulnaz and all your fellow bloggers, i want to share with you the photo-art of one of my friend - Sakura. if you follow this link you'll find a wonderful example of how one person can touch other lives through 'heartprints'.

Originally uploaded by sa_ku_ra.

Sakura
thank you, and, gulnaz, i hope you don't mind that i use your blog to connect people to this beautiful person who left this world too early and whose tragical leave let many people to think once again how precious and fragile the life is and how meaningful are the connections between us.

growind old

laughter lines
worry lines too
mum's tree rings.

clean rooms
tiredness
in tidy corners.

Warm dinners
with aching feet.
growing old.

bananas-mananas

Eating bananas is good for your skin, good for the bones too. Bananas may even keep your blood pressure down, its the potassium, you see. Though maybe not your weight if you have too many of them at one go. Also you might look like a baboon with the banana peels lying around you while you bare you teeth at whoever points out the resemblance. Still, bananas are good for you; eat one, once daily.

I feel this world has got patches of banana peel; camouflaged in smooth words and nice hands. You know them, when you slip on them and there is no way you will know beforehand about them.

So, eat your bananas. Know your bananas, that is the only way you will have experience with the banana peels and maybe you will get good at catching yourself before you fall.

Bananas are good for you; eat one, once daily.

running on time

It was still early in the evening but it felt late. It felt very late. Maybe it was the raindrops, which were falling down in a hurry, chasing her down the road. Drenched in raindrops, she felt warm still. -Why do you have to hurry, you don't have to go nowhere, enjoy this, a part of her said. -No, no, its getting late, she rebuked herself. Why this obsession with lateness?? -Everything has its time and this is time for here. She thought she heard the man standing under the eaves of the cafe say this. Of course, he did not; he was just watching her, steam off his coffee, hands warm about the cup. He was watching a world go by, getting late for nothing.

Monsoon showers
Soaking you
On me

running
morning breathes
on moist skin

sleeping
her body curved
a smile

Tagged by Lorena

Rules : Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs.

1. Modigli
2. Babbling Brooke
3. Cannot Be Trusted
4. Every Passing Moment
5. ~Apple-Pathways~

The top five things I miss about my childhood are:

1. I miss goofing around with my brothers, even though it got me into a lot of trouble with my parents. I miss fighting with them; I could actually throw them down then. Maybe they were just letting me feel good about myself but it did feel good. We would be constantly turning the house upside down with our make-believe games. Poor Ma! One of the games was covering the floor with talcum powder and then sliding across the smooth floor, bare feet, dangerous too but I don’t remember getting hurt. I use to fight with my brothers all the time but the moment dad would scold them, I would start crying.

2. Every Sunday, till I was about 9 or 10, Dad use to give us a shower, shampoo our hair etc all three of us together in this big bathroom of ours, while we stood waiting our turn in our undies. My kid brother (the fourth one) was too young to join us. We would then catch this English movie later; usually a western or a martial art movie, in a small cinema on Sundays, the matinee show. I miss that.

3. I miss listening to stories. My dad has got a good voice and he would read to us sometimes, I even remember recording one of his renditions once. I use to love listening to stories and I had our maid, uncles, grandma, aunts, next-door neighbor-boy, almost anyone who would agree to tell me a story.

4. My mama’s aunt would come down to our town sometimes, perhaps to lend her a hand. (poor mama, now when I look back I deserve every thrashing I ever got and then some more.) she would make the best tomato-chutney in the world. I make a mean one myself but it somehow never tastes quite like hers, not even my mother can make it like her and my mother is the best cook in the world. She, is very very old now, last when I met her she was so frail and though tall, she seemed to have shrunk. I keep telling myself she is fine, I feel guilty for not being there for her, she lives in another city and then there is life, something which seems to have passed her by.

5. I flunked my class fourth examinations because I did not get the passing marks required in mathematics, I was short of a few points. Otherwise I had done well but the rule was if one failed in English, hindi or maths, one would not be promoted even if one got passing marks overall. I came back home, all flustered with shame and before I could say anything, I met dad in the door way and he just enveloped me in his big arms and I felt so OK!

Hey Lo I had great fun with this, thanks! It bought back wonderful memories and some more. It was just the thing to do on a rainy day. Gracias.

Now its my turn to tag and I tag:

Jamie Dawn
Johnny Crash
Russell Ragsdale
Sue Hardy-Dawson
Angel-A

Patry Francis

I would enjoy reading your answers if you choose to post them and please, it is not limited to the above 5 only.

address lost

on a beautiful day smokeblackenedthesun. beyond the borders, shouts and cries; itssafeinside. the neighbour's screams ricochets of deaf walls. clothes,bonestissuesandtyre -burning pyres. later, silence. echoesundnightmares

indifferent sunshine over congealed blood.

points of view

When I sit down to write a post, I often worry if I am able to convey what I am feeling with honesty, in a voice which is my own and on top of that, hopefully in a well crafted sentence, not gratuitous (I have been dying to use that word!) though. Now my posts are merely a paragraph or two, maybe with a picture thrown in and so I am filled with awe for the intelligence and sweat of all those writers whose books / poetry I enjoy.

I am a bit quirky in the sense, that I enjoy, (its almost a physical sensation) an intelligent, honest mind. That intelligence might be in a song, a conversation, image or the written word. It gives me a high. When I had started blogging I had no idea, this would become a place for my daily fix for the aforementioned buzz. I have come across such incredible writers here!!! Phew! They write in different voices and I recognize each one by their individual voice by now. They write about their lives, their desires, their fears, and their points of view. The beauty of their minds shines through in their words and i enjoy reading them. Thank you guys! All of you.

However, I come across some comments on blogs, usually anonymous by people who feel smarter when they run down others and it makes me sooo angry! I wonder at these people, I wonder at their spirits. I am not saying one should only say nice things or not criticize but its the mean-ness which galls! Anyway they are small stuff, should not sweat them. So adios for a few days, I am gone tomorrow. ;)

june later

The wind carries the scent of the soaked earth on its fingers. I can feel those fingers above my lips and my nostrils flare, just a bit, as I deeply inhale the sultry warm satisfied scent and I get so excited with this smell.

The monsoons, the dark, swollen clouds are here, bearing beneficence. Suddenly there is twinkling gladness in the hearts, the greens are greener and the sun is milder like a father in a good mood.

I like my skin when it rains. Its moister and I don't really mind the sweat too in these times as it cools me down. Just a few days earlier and it was too hot even to sweat. I would get headaches almost daily, sort of like a fever. Thank god for those tiny tablets of Paracetmol, I must have them on me, for I never know when a headache strikes. Those drying winds and that angry sun have made their exit for this part of the play.

The sound of ceaseless water dripping and the cooler winds are still to come but the promise has been made.

There is something about this time of the year so special. I think the romance of the clouds is scattered with the rains and it imbues all that which it soaks.

Poetry tastes better with raindrops, I think.

Tell me, is the rose naked...? by Pablo Neruda

Tell me, is the rose naked Or is that her only dress?

Why do trees conceal The splendor of their roots?

Who hears the regrets Of the thieving automobile?

Is there anything in the world sadder

than a train standing in the rain?

Bricks

bricks upon bricks

and they make up a wall

they go high and they go wide

and they go nowhere at all.

bricks upon bricks

and you can break your head

against the wall.

bricks upon bricks

one day they will all

crumble and fall.

bricks upon bricks

and they make up a wall

they go high and they go wide

and they go nowhere at all.

collected sign posts

It’s a terrible longing when you cannot even put a name to it. Restlessness. There is a need to be somewhere else yet strangely totally at home with myself, here, now. I lay for a long time on my unmade bed, over the disturbed quilts, thinking about nothing at all. On my tongue, names kept rolling along like a slideshow on a lollipop and they all seemed like a taste remembered but not the flavor sought.

Names are good; they are like the filing system of the brain, the single word codes to many meters of memories. Those memories are like tiny maps of time and me at a certain place and those names are the signposts, some saying don’t go there, that road is no good, others doubtful and still others, good enough campsites. Some fractions of those names belong as much to me as they belong to the namesake. I own some parts of those names, those parts which were with me and which I took away with me. I carry those names but I don’t need to or maybe I do, as signposts to me. I think there is something wrong with this. Those signposts are pointing backwards but I have to follow the road ahead.

My friend has been calling me to her city for a mini holiday and I think will go soon. I can hardly wait to see her. We always have so much fun, being silly together. Even when we talk about sad stuff, we end up laughing like a couple of pre-adolescent girls. The first time we bonded I think, was the night she slept over in my house and we talked the night through. I don’t remember what we talked about, we must have been six or seven or maybe younger but I remember my mum had laid out a bed for us in the living room and we were sharing it, sharing stuff we could tell absolutely nobody else, mighty important stuff. When we needed to turn over, we switched sides so that we could continue talking to each other, facing each other. She lives in another city. We have spent our lives visiting each other and yet we still have loads to talk about. I must add here, that there have been long spaces in between where we almost lost contact but when we met again those spaces were only just some more stuff to talk about.

I tried writing a bit of erotica today but it ended up sounding false and sort of clichéd. It was true in parts but not true enough. It is important to be true although it is so easy to lie. To steal a heart, one can lie. One can lie to build a home but neither that heart nor that home will remain happy if bought with lies…. although lies are so tempting…like detours to the goalpost. Some guiding souls will tell you when you lie but most will not. You got to watch out for your own little lies.

“This land is your land, this land is my land/ from California to the New York island.”, an old song written by somebody called Woody Guthrie, has been playing in my head, all this while, in the scratchy old voice of Mr. Bruce Springsteen tempting me to sing and all I can remember are the first two lines.

of sea and tea

I dreamt of a lovely painting this morning, so like Finnegan I thought I will write about it. It was of a sea in turbulence and sky the same as sea. There was no disctinction between the two. It was done in horizontal brush strokes of light and dark shades of mauve and lilac, almost blue. From the middle of the sea, something rose up, perhaps a gigantic tide or was it a lightning which penetrated the sea, I am not sure. It seemed like the statue of liberty but it was not a woman, just the shape of her famous outline to give you a better idea. It was only the difference in the depth that made me distinguish the sky from the sea and the enerrrgy and the vigour of that thing in between, for the colour was same throughout. I found it curious to dream about the sea, as i don't live next to one besides its been a long time since i saw one. Perhaps Its the soaring tempartures in these parts which made me dream of water, so much water.

tea in bed
morning comes
with each sip.

dribbling honey on
buttered toast
licking fingers clean

scanning newspapers

hurried search

butterflies in the belly.

hurried rushed
harried frazzled
go, go, go!

Completed by .:A:.

...he holds me
.........spins me
..............around

faster,faster,faster!

...turning all
.......known into
.............a blur

never let me go.

... And
...... The blur
......... Passes you by

hold me

... As
...... He holds you
......... And spins you

tight



.:A:. left the verse on the comments page of the earlier post, which completes it in a way i had wanted to but could not. hence am posting it again, completed, thanks .:A:.

held

..................................he holds me
.....................spins me
.........around

faster, faster, faster!



.....................................turning all
......................known into
..............a blur

never let me go.

past expiry date

-Why are you telling me that you love me, now? -I don’t want to hear it anymore, I tell him.

Why do I feel this strange numbness in my heart, did I not once, want him to tell me that he loves me, why does it not mean anything now? But I don’t tell him that. These words they do nothing for me now. I use to fantasize about these words, I use to imagine that they would thrill me, but it is just a big nothing now, through and through.

-I wish you well but please get it, its bloody over, it was over when you turned your back on me, I tell him through tears which he can’t see. –I let go of my pride for you but all you did was cringe at my cravenness at my stupidity, yes that’s what you called it, then, remember?

-You are just drunk; keep the phone down.
But he keeps on talking, talking, saying words which would have someday, long ago, made me very happy, even though they would have been lies then just like they are lies today, drunken lies, fooling himself and fooling me.

-Why don’t you ever mean what you say? I cry, I meant when I had told you that I loved you and I mean it today when I say it is over.

To amuse yourself, you want to string along my heart and in some stupid way of yours, you do care but you care in a way that means nothing to me now. I want more, I want real! You aren’t that, baby and I finally learned it.

Still, wishing you well.

Mushing around

Silky skeins of amber light weaving a web of light and shadows across her bed, across her back, as she lay asleep, lost.

His warm fingers itching to get lost in that web of light, fingers warmer than sun kissed sand when he noticed her feet peeking out from beneath the sheets.

Feet, whose soles were pale and toes, which were struggling with the sheet, searching for warmth...searching for his hands.

His hands took and then rubbed first one foot and then the other. Rubbed them to warmth, rubbed them to rosy reds.

As she lay there being rubbed and warmed, she thought to herself, this is what love is all about, someone to rub your feet when they are cold. While he felt his heart swell, thinking…this must be love, when your hands alone are more precious and sought than the sun itself.

She is the country he is meant to shine upon, as he is the sun she is lost without.

Too simplistic? Perhaps…but what more is there to it?

Noontide

noontide
an eagle-sentinel
on the rooftop

drained.
life almost still
closed for lunch.

summer songs
wailing winds
round the sun.

parched lips
serenading
you.

Nothing new

You drive me crazy with your madness for more. It’s never enough or its never good enough. I am so tired, I look in your eyes and I can almost taste the bile in your words, the bile on your tounge.
I gave you more than I could, I never held back anything and you took it, you took it all with your grubby greedy hands but then you wiped your hands off your sweet lips and you spit on my face.
I am losing my mind. I am losing you. You stand in a corner always berating me. I am scared of you. Vacuous smiles and empty words are all that you have for me. You are a burden I must bear. You tear my heart to pieces and then you chew those bits of my heart, even as I look on.

I thought you will change, I thought this will be a new day, oh sure, its a new day but nothing new about you.

this did not happen to me.

oopsie-daisy

encircled
in her tiny fingers
many hearts.

her rosebud lips
leave, kisses
on our hearts

baby scent
sweet and milky
- ooh my heart.

God bless all the babies in the world! They are so vulnerable, they make you want to become stronger and prettier and wiser and so much more than what you are today. They make you realize the important things in life, the good things, the correct things, the little things, the big things.

She smiles in her sleep,
god blesses and god keeps.

God's tiny miracle!

kisses
Originally uploaded by gulnaz.

Allah blessed my brother and my family with a lil baby daughter today. I held the wee bonnie lass for a few seconds and it was like holding a handful of roses or candy fluff...she is so soft and tiny and all pink!
She is kept in the nursery today but she is fine otherwise. Though she was born a few weeks earlier and through a C-section, she is a healthy 7-pound and the mama's is fine too! I am sooo happy, quite overwhelmed with emotions, will write about those emotions later, just wanted to share the good news first and thank you everyone for their good wishes. I am quite drunk on happiness right now to compose my thoughts. :)

grimy gritty glass

everything within you is gold
everything without you is sold
in vain, i love you, i'm told
damn you - you are hard and cold


....I'm damned if I don't make you lick these tears!
and so she swore, biting down her lip.

rambling

Today was a still and overcast day, heavy with moisture, which soon covered the skin with a thin film of sweat. I woke up tired, the guests who were here yesterday left in the evening, another remains and a couple are expected, on top off all this, preparations have to be made, for K (my bro's wife) will be delivering soon and so much remains yet to be done. She has been quite besides herself, making lists and ticking them off. It will be the first grandchild for my parents and all of us are naturally excited. Her due date was third week of June but today when she went to the hospital to get an ultrasound done, the doctor insisted that she be admitted straight away for monitoring and that she plans to do a C-section post Friday, anytime.

I am not the best planner in the world but I anticipate and prepare enough to be ready, not liking to do everything before hand or stretching myself to the utmost. I see it as a fault/laziness, which it is to an extent. However I realized today that life is about dealing with chaos and not making sure that everything goes according to the 'plan'.

I'm sooo tired, I just want to curl up in the bed with a good book and a nice hot cup of tea and then fall asleep but darn the power problem in this miserable state! I have so many emotions playing around in my head with this little one coming. Btw, my time on the net will be limited, so if I'm slack in commenting you know the reason. I am probably not feeling well ‘coz I am naturally not a low-energy person, maybe my throat infection is still not cured or maybe I am just feeling overwhelmed.

leaves on pane

CLENCHED SOUL

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

Pablo Neruda

...for those who will know about a clenched soul...

*wink*

Nasra, stumbled across my path and liked my stuff. She so sweetly asked me some questions about what I wrote and posted them on a blog which she has just begun. Its an honour I don't feel worthy of but well...:):) So I hope all of you visit and please don't think me to be vain. She is planning to do more of such interviews of her fellow bloggies...bloggers...bloggistas..whatever. :)

the interview

Musical minded meme

Thanks Johnny.

Total volume of music files on my computer:
None, since my sound card went bad, actually i'm flogging this poor computer to its last days...it has got so many problems! grrrr.

The last CD I bought was:
Some albums of Nusrat fateh Ali Khan and Abida Parveen. The former is no more, he was a sufi singer, with an amazing voice and the latter, she too is in her leauge....great stuff.

Songs playing right now:
Miss Sarajevo-Passengers featuring Bono....this is an old compilation in a twin set, released on Diana's death. It has some favourites of mine, like the above one, streets of philadelhia and make me a channel of your peace by sinead 'o connor.

five songs i listen to a lot, or that means a lot to me:
Losing my religion- REMGone fishing - Chris rea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses - U2
Total Eclipse of the heart - Bonnie Tyler
Unforgiven-MetallicaJersey Girl/streets of philadelhia/brillant disguise - Bruce Springsteen
Miracle/blaze of glory-Jon Bon Jovi
Zooropa - U2
I feel good - James Brown
Crazy - Seal
I'm going to stop here, though i should have stopped 5 songs ago but well...i still have many favourites.

Five people to whom I’m passing the baton:
Anumita, Neel Sen, Jamie Dawn, Pecos Blue, Nav Amole and any other who might want to take the this up.

Heart

Heart
Originally uploaded by gulnaz.

a heart in candy colours, a gift i painted for my parents...i know i'm no artist, it was the thought...and the thought was, i (heart) u.