unverbalised

feelings- ambivalent, ambiguous.
emotions too unresolved to incarcerate.
ideas spilling over each other.
notions repudiating to visualize.
unimaginative, unmotivated yet
words determined to be revealed;
stripped bare, completely naked,
exposing the cavernous soul.

nonetheless, why do i bottle it all up?

End of another year.

On this last day of the year, I am thinking of all that I achieved in 2006. It is not about materialistic or any such thing. It is about the blogosphere...

All I can say is I am very glad to have made great blogger friends. We might never see each other but that does not stop us from sharing each others' milestones..happiness, sadness....whatever it takes. Visiting, connecting, encouraging, critiquing. Need I say more? I have become less cynical, more tolerant and better person for knowing you all. Thank you all for just being there.

May the blogger's tribe increase as never before.

I wish a very HAPPY NEW YEAR 2007 filled with peace, love, laughter and much joy to all my blogger friends.

Brushing abstracts

This is my 300th post on this blog.

Sit back and relax, girl!

It is Christmas evening and I am kind of alone at home. The whole world seems to be out revelling. I did go out in the afternoon but looking at the crowd, I was glad to be back home. Infact I am enjoying my own company listening to soft music. The following is just one of the lot. I know it is predictable but what the hell!



Last Christmas...George Michael

Maybe I will write a poem or two and post it here. My muse seems to be working for sometime now. This time I did not have too long a dry spell.

Uprising

This post has nothing to do with christmas. My poetic urge took over and here I am posting another one...still raw and out of the mill!
......................................................................................................
Uprising

fire oddly restrained;
lost in the fumes,
inside surefire stockade-

releasing the shaft,
consenting it to breathe
disregarding its rage.

soaring above blistered
remnants which storms up
unfettered and uninhibited.

Tidings of the mind

The title sounds as if for poetry! But it has nothing to do with it.

Schools closed for nine days! Last afternoon and early evening I was out shopping. I literally shopped till I dropped. I was so tired that I feel asleep at 9.30 pm. Too early for me. But I could barely manage to keep my eyes open. This morning I was up early at 4.30 am.

Hope the kids like what I bought for them, clothes, toys, junk jewellery, books etc etc. Chocolates, cakes, pastries comes next. The best news was, we finally received one month's salary. So that should more than cover my splurging.

I had ordered books and those too arrived at the right time. Next task is to decorate the christmas tree, pack the gifts and invite the kids. And hope I too get gifts...LOL!

I don't know why but I feel happy as well as as sad. conflicted emotions. At times it gets too much to deal with those.

SANTA, where ARE you?

Nothing really!

I seldom write about my work. That's becos I want to keep it away from my own time here. Today too I will just mention it in the offing here. After I got back from Bangalore, I received 423 answer-sheets to evaluate in three days. Looking at those papers made me almost insane! Literally keeping the midnight oil burning, I finished the job at 2.30 am today.

The festive spirit had not seeped through me. Oh, I had a great time in Bangalore but back in Delhi, it was a rude shock. Some one had goofed up at some level and I landed up with 400+ answer sheets. I could have refused but the second terminal results had to be out by today and someone had to do it. I am never the one to back out of it however unpleasant the task might be.

Now going through homo escapeons' and within without's blog, I finally was jolted out of it. Time for me to get a small christmas tree, some decorations and gifts for my nephews and nieces. If I do not do this, they will miss their Santa, namely me. I am looking forward to the weekend to go shopping! It does not matter that I am yet to receive my last three months pay!

Merry Christmas to you all!

About writing poetry....

In May 2005, I started out writing at the behest of a good friend. I don't know what he saw in my writings that he encouraged me to write. I started as a short story writer. Not that I was any good at that time. But I was eager to learn. I don't know how but I slowly gravitated towards poetry writing. Maybe I was too lazy to write prose, maybe poetry was my calling. I can't answer that. Initially I wrote rhymed poems. That was the only way I could write poetry. After a while I started with free verse. I found that it flowed for me. I am very comfortable with writing this form of poetry.

Not that it does not have any rhythm or rhyme or lyrics but it is not binding in the strictest sense. I tried my hands at haikus. The tight structures disciplined my thoughts in a way I had not thought possible.

I have written sonnets, terza-rimas...classic poetry in modern interpretations. Somewhere down the line, I simply gave up on trying to write classic forms. Maybe I found free verse more to my liking. But now I think I must get back to structured poetry. There is so much beauty in those, so much discipline of the mind. I need to do that. One of my main drawback is I am unable to write long poems. My thoughts go awry after a certain point. I can't concentrate enough.

Maybe structured poetry will get my mind in the right track...What do you say?

Reason and logic

cold reason-
why do you accuse me
of meagre strategy, your eyes
staring pitifully at me?

i squirm, deeply hurt
by your psychoanalysis;
willing and hoping
for you to be kinder-

considerate of my loyalty
to humanity at the expense
of sciences which are
destroying this world.

cold reason-
how you mock me so.
finally I look back at you,
uncaring of what you think.

................................................................................

This has not come up the way I intended it too. I posted it here becos I know I will never get around editing it and posting it if I don't do it now. All my poet (and non-poet!) friends are welcome to critique it. I will appreciate it very much.

This is sad...

I posted my poem here yesterday and was sitting with my mom just relaxing when we got a phone call. My mothers' younger brother passed away yesterday. He was two years younger than my mom. They were very close.

We had returned from Bangalore, my mom being so happy about my brother's new house there.( we had gone there for his housewarming.) Now this.

She was kind of unconsolable for a while. I called up my brothers. They kept her busy talking to her one after the other. When she talked, her sadness seemed to fall away. She recalled the good times with him. He had not been well lately. Infact he was in a lot of suffering and was in the ICU for the last one week. The doctor had said he might get well. But he did not. He was 69. He lived in Orissa. He died in Orissa. All his three sons were there with him.

He had had a major accident in 1980 when doctors had given up on him but he recovered fully. His sons were so small at that time. GOD gave him a new lease of life. He had done well for himself and his sons. But death is so final. I suddenly remembered my own dad. Not that I had forgotten him but I felt the sharp pain once again.

Mom will go to Orissa for the rituals that are done on 10th and 11th day. One of my brothers' will go with her. I know I shouldn't worry but I do.

This is life. Happiness and sadness go hand in hand. I SHOULD KNOW....

Checkmate

forging ahead;
turning across,
if the pawn gets
to the rook,
killing a knight or two;
the empire falls apart
in just a few moves!

Back in Delhi

For once the flight was on time. We reached Delhi around 9.30 am. At 11 am we were home. Brr! It is cold. After the pleasant weather in Bangalore, it is kind of nasty. Whatever, I am glad to be back home. I did enjoy my stay in Bangalore but home is home.

Time to catch up with my blogger pals! Sorry friends, if I had been neglecting you. I will be with you in no time!

Conclusion

flowers that
we both picked;
sent to me
warped and stained,
stay unwrapped,
precisely like letters-
as from me to you.

In Bangalore (II)

Flower Market in Bangalore







It has been six days in Bangalore. This is my third visit. Previous two ones I spent sightseeing, shopping and dropping dead at the end of the day. Now I seldom go out after the first two days. I prefer spending time with my SIL and my niece, not to forget my brother after he is back from office. Only places I have visited are few flower markets.

This time I am here for my brother's Grihapravesh (housewarming). I had promised him that I would attend his housewarming irrespective of when he held it. Mid December is very busy for us in school. Second terminal exams are held at this time of the year and we do not like to take leave at such times. But as I had made that promise, I took a week's leave and here I am in Bangalore. It was his Grihapravesh today. All those pujas (rituals) took a long time. It started at 8.30 am and finished at almost 4 pm.

I seldom sit through any puja but I don't what made me do that this time. I just did not get up. I had almost forgotten the rituals followed. But as we went along, my memory to refreshed itself. I seldom go to temple nowadays. I have a love-hate relationship with GOD. So I had closed my mind to all these rituals that Hindus follow in any Puja. I am a believer in Karma so why did I feel this way today?

Maybe I am less cynical than I thought I was. Maybe I need to reconnect with GOD. Maybe I am getting on with age. Maybe I am just being stupid. Too many excuses (or are these questions?) but no specific answers.

Time and Space

Subterfuge

waltzing impeccably
on the limits
of time and providence
i slice my image
into thin wedges.

sashaying flawlessly
on putrid flesh
of rationale and pledge
i sculpt myself
as individual yet again.

In Bangalore

Landed up here in Bangalore on 8th Night. Our flight was 90 minutes late. I had called up the airlines before proceeding for the airport but they said it was on time. Why can't we get proper info? Good thing I take along books almost everywhere. I wasn't bored. My mom was travelling with me. She gets tired sitting and waiting. I sometimes forget that she is 70+. Travelling is tiring for her despite the fact she is rather active.

We reached 10 minutes past midnight, i.e., 9th Dec! It was my niece's birthday. She was still awake waiting for us. My eldest brother lives in Bangalore with his family. His eldest son is studying in Delhi.

It has been two days and we are here till 17th. I am just savouring the time doing virtually nothing. Break from work, routine and stuff. Going for walks, hitting the malls, drinking endless cups of tea ( I am a tea person!), utter bliss...ah! Coming back to Delhi, I will need to work out harder after all that food I am gorging!

Writing too has taken a backseat. So if I do not come to your blogs to read and comment, you know the reason why. I will catch soon enough, I hope!

Snaked Fingers

Purple Haze

Poetry meme

Thanks lotus reads, for tagging me for this. I have had fun doing this doing this..:). I must thank cam too, for initiating this.

1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was:

Will you come into my parlour said the spider to the fly..
I cannot forget it ever. It was my first exposure to duplicity.

Here it is for all of you:


The Spider And The Fly by Mary Howitt (1799-1888)

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.


2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and...

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright by William Blake. I simply loved the imagery.

“The Tyger”

Tyger, Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, or what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

3. I read poetry because....

I have too. I read classics to modern. Anything, everything. I have vast and varied taste. It depends on my mood.


4. A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is ....
Too many. But I think my favourite is by John Clare:

I Am by John Clare

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows
My friends forsake me like a memory lost,
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love's frenzied, stifled throes—
And yet I am, and live—like vapors tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest, that I love the best,
Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes, where man hath never trod,
A place where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling, and untroubled where I lie,
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

5. I write/don't write poetry, but..............

I do write poetry. I started out as a short story writer and don't know how I graduated to poetry. Words just flow without any reason and I have to write no matter what.

I can't do without words
I only exist without it
Poetry gives me direction,
imagination and perception.

7. I find poetry.....
Everywhere. Things I love, things I hate. In mundane things, in nature, in you, in me...you name it, I see it.

8. The last time I heard poetry....

At a poetry meet organised inter school last month in Delhi. I enjoyed poetry reading very much.


9. I think poetry is like....
soul food. I cannot live without it. I have to read it and write when muse strikes me.

All you poetry lovers...readers and writers...consider yourself tagged!!

Stigmata

Pinnacle of Pleasure

black vines entwine
to walls in the countryside
thunders bring in the cold night
trees welcome embracing rain
just like lover his beloved

soil awaits its turn
soaking in the water
to its core through it pores
quenching its thirst
as never before

lightning strikes
showing the nudity of nature
in all its splendour
in the arms of water
pouring as if to consume.

the storm abates
hunger satisfied,
each single part replete
the earth settles about
after orgasmic release!

Filling the holes with ink

preceding night,
turning the pages
in my mind; filled
with your memories,
i fell asleep with lights on.

with numb fingers,
i tried to pen the holes
that time has made
into your remembrance,
handwritten for me

my ink tried to fill in the
painful distance,
created by your absence.
i could visualize
your glaring eyes

in those pages in the
recesses of my mind,
the words stood out
noted down in margin
of memories which I had

scribbled the night
you disappeared forever,
leaving me alone
with shards of pain
which will never fade.
..........................................................................................

In memory of a close friend who passed away some years back.

Word List....writing exercise

Fidelity,

Gnu,

Hacksaw,

Ize,

Jabber,

Krypton

With loads of Krypton in his body, the Gnu had low fidelity rate. His friend Ize asked Jabber to get a sharp-edged hacksaw to cut of his(Gnu's) over-active organ.

Leave death alone

leave that razor alone,
death is no solution.
talk to me what ails you
i promise to listen.
i will not be judgmental
i will reason it out.
maybe I will just be silent
while you listen
to your own words.
let sanity prevail,
let life live.
death is so easy,
living is a challenge.
give it a chance,

much is at stake-
that is-your life!

---------------------------------------------------

Right now I feel too raw and bleeding but sanity did prevail on the person concerned.

Learnt/unlearnt about life

Answering here something homo escapeons asked in the previous post. Check his comments here.

This is what I learnt/unlearnt till date:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Religion does NOT teach us to love. It rather teaches us to hate.

Family is NOT there for you always. You stand alone.

Love is NEVER unconditional. Who claims so IS lying.

Honesty is NOT the best policy.

Brotherhood/sisterhood does NOT exist.

Money comes much ABOVE power any day.

Power comes SECOND though.

Parents do not love all their kids EQUALLY. If they say so then they are lying.

Girls will always get a RAW deal wherever they are.

Harder you try STEEPER you fall.

Hope dies a SLOW death.

No one appreciates INTEGRITY anymore.

Friends are there as long as you GIVE. Stop giving, they vanish so fast!

Despite all this I STILL believe in all things good.

Kids are the BEST things there can be. Even if they are NOT your own.

Men hate EMOTIONAL females.

Men hate LOGICAL/SANE females too!

(Either way you can't win. I have tried both!!!...:D)

PMS is HERE to stay!

Diamonds ARE useless. Who cares if they are forever.

Curiosity has not killled me as YET. But I am no cat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
These are in no particular order. I wrote what came into my mind one at a time. In much less than 500 words..:D

Fairs and Exhibitions...Part I

As soon as November starts we have all kinds of fairs in Delhi at one part or the other. I mostly avoid going to the more popular ones. I trudge along to book fairs or those exhibitions holding some kind of creative activities. I find few takers for those. Hence I go alone. That's a good thing too. No one is hurrying me to rush back. So I just move about in my own pace savoring my own company. Some times we do need to do things our own way. Browsing books is one such activity. I simply forget the time while I am doing that.

I like going to art museums...paintings, scupltures etc etc. I try to decipher the mind of the artist. At times it is crystal clear and at others it is as indecipherable as it can be. But that does not bother me at all. In a way it gives me much to think about. I am a thinking person. I need constant food for my mind.

I like those exhibitions which satisfy my inner hunger. Though they can never fulfil it. Not in the way I want it to be. I am always wanting something. Nothing to do with material things. I can't explain it...

(to be contd)

Word List....writing exercise

The following is the word list given to us to write a piece of prose on those unrelated words.

Antibody

Brush

Coffin

Duck

Ejaculate

I wrote this:

I brushed my lapel of the remains of the duck I have had. As there was a bird-flu scare, I hoped the duck had developed antibodies after it had been injected with the antidote before it had been killed for dinner. I did not want to end up in the coffin with my life ejaculated at the speed of jet-plane!

On the roads

Any normal day in Delhi

On the roads

i traverse the same path
over and over again
sometimes silent,
at others screaming.

crowds that are same
and yet not quite.
most in a hurry,
few pausing;

business as usual.
time running out
but a few don’t care.
i pause, savour, inhale;

the redolent air,
filled with essence of you.
i whirl back
with sudden awareness

of you gone from my life.
your memories are
all I have left for now,
bereft of any soul.

Where am I from?

I wrote this for a writing exercise for one of the networks. I know this is idealistic but what the hell....

Gomukh...origin of Ganges

..............................................

Where am I from?

I am from the land of saints,
where spirituality abounds.
Gita is the way of life
love for others is the norm.
all religions are embraced,
absorbed and esteemed.
Ganges washes our sins
giving us new lease of life.
Diverse cultures converge
at a single point but still
hold on to their own.

Blogger message...my blog a spam?.

I received the following message on my email yesterday.
...................................................................

Dear Blogger user,

This is a message from the Blogger Team. In order to maintain a free,
high quality service, we use an automated classifier to identify spam
blogs.

This system has detected that your blog has characteristics that
resemble spam. Since you're an actual person reading this, your blog is
probably not a spam blog. Automated spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and
we sincerly apologize for this erroneous result.

You won't be able to publish posts to your blog until we review your
site and verify that it is not a spam blog. To request a review, please
fill out the form found here:

http://www.blogger.com/unlock-blog.g?blogID=.........

We'll take a look at your blog and unlock it in less than one business
day. Please note, if we don't hear from you, we will remove your blog
within 20 days. If the blog at http://firmlyrooted.blogspot.com does not
belong to you, then no action is necessary on your part. Any other
blogs you may have will not be affected.

By using automated classification systems we've been able to dedicate
more storage, bandwidth, and engineering resources to users like you
instead of spammers. Thanks for your understanding.

Sincerely,

The Blogger Team

[1] http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=1260

.............................................................

After I did the needful I received this message today:


Hello,

Your blog has been reviewed, verified, and cleared for regular use so
that
it will no longer appear as potential spam. If you sign out of Blogger
and
sign back in again, you should be able to post as normal. Thanks for
your
patience, and we apologize for any inconvenience this has caused.

Sincerely,
The Blogger Team
..................................................................

What I would like to know how does my blog resemble a spam. One more thing is that I decided to have a sister blog (this time a beta one almost uprooted!) in case my blog is deleted for any reason. I had nothing to post yesterday but I did not like the feeling of not being able to post till it was cleared by blogger support.

in and out

toying with picture,
while the world diffuses
evoking days of laughter
nostalgia dances
from converging eyes
as the aura fades out.
gray hues demarcate,
celestial stain of ignominy.
stridently gazing at
the very being. the sun
eludes brilliance.
gloom enfolds
reclining on the wall
surrounded by memories
piercing the soul.

Just my thoughts

This past week had been kind of interesting. As I said before, there was no net for 4 days. After a while I found it cool. I did a lot of writing. I kind of played around with words. I mostly write free verse though I lapse into rhyming in between. I forced myself to write those two poems dealing with mathematics as I needed to contribute stuff for our school yearbook.

I have written some fine pieces on education system too. I will post those after I polish them a bit. I rarely rewrite my poems as thinking does not help me at all. My poetry has to be raw. I seldom edit those. Editing changes the whole damn meaning. My first thoughts are really what I want to convey.

An online friend of mine, Carol Roach wants me write about India, its culture, its diversity, Hinduism to contribute to her storytime tapestry. That should keep me busy forever. I will post some of those reflections here too.

I do try to update Doctrine Of The Bhagavadgita

Getting along life mathematically

Add to the positivity
Subtract the negativity

Happiness is multiplied
Wretchedness is divided

Life has no linearity
Nor it has any similarity

More like tangential
With so little differential.

Facing ups and downs squarely
We can get along exponentially!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This math poem is simple enough. Hope you enjoy reading both the posts for today!!

Pirouetted sentiments

slow gliding of souls
pictures stare silently
trapped in celluloid
of mind's eye
famished for sunbeams,
exposed of contentment.
suddenly at crossroad of
accumulated panorama.
bits and pieces of someone's
sapored sensibility.
-----------------------------------
I seldom write like this. My works are mostly simple worded but I thought why not!

Best shot

truth will always sets us free
for our salvation, it is the key

life's small struggles will go on
my responsibility of it will be my own

time has indeed made me grow
no hurrying about but to go slow

no tantrums, no more blame game,
at end of it, i don't want any shame

we all need time for retrospection
this helps us in mind's rejuvenation

change is the only permanent constant
but with our actions, we want it instant

it never happens the way we wish
life's enveavours has taught me this

give your best shot in all you do
it will definitely see you through!
------------------------------------------------

Nothing original here. Sometimes one just needs to pep talk to oneself. This is my way of pep-talking to myself. Please bear with me for this tripe.

A day in mathematics teacher’s life.

A mathematics teacher
is always on constant move,
calculating the speed of her teaching;
measuring the precise time
taken for completing
the exponentials of life.

Her timing is perfect for intercepting
the graphical representation of
life’s ups and downs.
Maybe she produces more clowns
who have no idea of additions,
subtractions or basic mathematics.

Leave alone calculus, trigonometry,
mensuration and basic proportions.
She is circling her mind to
solve triangular and other areas
of the pupil’s brain, tickling them with
squares, cubes and pyramids

At the end of the day, she is
dead beat, knowing full well
it will not be followed by
majority of her pupil.
But she persists, her enthusiasm
multiplied, faith undivided.

Frenzied Entropies

trying to taste coffee from your lips,
stopping space and time with a kiss;
eroding all the rules of diplomacy
with madness and neurotic honesty.

coaxing our flesh to confess
what our words never dare profess
simmering, shivering, reckless kiss
igniting arson between our hips’

inciting the surface of our skin
frenzied entropies lurking within,
catastrophe of emotions and thoughts
which alternatively distort and contort

we unwittingly undrape deceits,
writhing under the silken sheets.
molten tongues, roving palms
yielding to contagion of giddy charms.

Server down..!!!!

For a while all my words had dried up. When those flowed, my server let me down. No internet for four days. It was horrible! We have become net addicts. The whole world comes apart...

Well, I am back after four days. Now I will catch up with commenting and posting. One good thing is I have kept up with my reading and writing too. God, I missed all my blogger friends.

Cyber HUGS to you all!

Mushy! For want of a better title....

reaching out gently,
i softly feel you
while you sleep.
finding your heart
i listen to its beat
unison to mine.
i cherish the
timeless moment
being careful
not to wake you.

nuzzling you
i fall asleep.
in the stillness
of night, you stir
beside me.
without a thought
you pull me closer.
i smile to myself
and give in to the
raging fires.

.................................................................

Wrote this after reading those mushy romance novels(15!). I know it is very predictable but what's wrong with writing predictable stuff?

(Actually this question is for me!)

Reading romances--then and now

Remember I wrote about the friend I met after 22 years. We were school buddies. We used to devour romance novels (Mills and Boon, for you all) at that time. Sneaking those inside our books and reading in the classrooms. Somewhere down the line, 20 years to be precise, I gave up on those. I graduated to other stuff and never missed the romance novels much.

Now Rina, this friend of mine, remembered me as the school girl she had known me as. So here she comes to my place and gifts me 15 (15!) Romance novels. Mills & Boons, Harlequins, what nots...I didn't even know these still existed. I will not say I was thrilled which I wasn't. Maybe she thought I needed those after looking at my still single status.

Anyway to cut a long story short, I started those with some misgivings. In no time I was hooked. I finished all 15 within a space of 5 days...averaging three a day. I agree after some time I did not know which was which but it does not really matter.

Nutshell is they meet, they fight, and they kiss and make up and live together happily ever after. But that’s not what I want to say. I find some similarities though there have been vast differences in those novels I read in 80s and now.

Similarity is that the hero is as handsome as ever. Tall, dark and very handsome in a rugged sorto way. He always has a scar somewhere on his body. The heroine is very beautiful, with a great figure.

Now for the differences:

In the eighties, those were kind of mild. The hero was either a tycoon, banker, rancher, prince or something like that fully loaded with money or what have you. Hope you get my gist. He was almost above the age of 35. The heroine was a secretary, nurse, governess, and housekeeper or was so young as to be made a ward of the hero. She was never with money. (Exceptions are there!) She was around 17-23 years. The age difference was always around 8-20 years. The girl was always untouched except by the hero. He was the only man in her life. Even if they parted and met after a few years, she remained one man woman. That can't be said about the hero. You see, man of the world and all that.... (Well, that's another thing altogether). In those novels, they only held hands, kissed on the last page and/or if there was love making scene it was never worded. Implied is the operative word.

Speaking of now, the hero is a trouble shooter, television journalist, undercover agent, and commander, Professor, artist, whatever. No change in his age. He still is more than 35 years of age. Has to have money! What is a hero without money? The heroine is not the simpering idiot any more. Very much the woman of the world. As powerful as the hero. And with as much clout and finances, sometimes more. Now the heroines are older, 26-35 years. They know what they want. They are not shy to get into bed with the hero if they so desire. Infact it starts with sex right in the beginning (page 1) and love follows much later, if you call that love. These so-called romance novels have become pornographic. How times have changed. Romance is no longer the same. We can't blame the new writers when sex stares at you from everywhere. Just look at the book covers!

To tell the truth, I did enjoy reading these after so long. Mushy or whatever! Romance novels, here I come!

Metamorphosis

“honestly . . .”
beginning of many
warped sentences:
partial reality that coat
enunciations
so when we look
into his flat words,
we try to see something
multi-dimensional
in the eyes of the speaker,
to give us some inkling
about his ever-changing
stance…..

perhaps our efforts
are wasted;
yet we have to do it
for our own insight
into his twisted mind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Writing about all those two-faced human beings. Trying to understand the way their mind works....I know it is a futile exercise but....

cardinal sin

perfect time to sin
thoughts make me spin
teeth waiting to sink in

juices oozing out
sleep is far about
Why have any doubt

in my waking dream
i sliently scream
for luscious icecream!

conjecture of my mind

i glance into my mirror;
see you unseeingly.
my gestures mechanical,
thoughts instinctively
desiring to be closer.
i turn to be with you-
as usual you disappear
inside my mind.
i am left with
staring at my reflection,
thinking who is this?

am i the one who is
conjecture of my mind?

**********************************

Mirrors fascinate me. I could make stories of those. I used to get lost inside a mirror when I was a kid. Even now I sometimes get lost....

Cut and Dried

Was forced to take a break from blogging. No words were forthcoming. Mind was kind of blank. In this kind of mood it's better to take a break from everything. Writing, commenting, cementing.

Why don't I feel rejuvenated? Listless is more like it.

Deep within

despite your best efforts
not to reveal it,
deep within your heart
I can feel love and care.
my eyes fill with tears
for both of us
as I do not reciprocate
but am overwhelmed by
the depth of your feelings.
I am well aware
I do not deserve it,
but you can't help it.
the same way as I can't
force my feelings
however much I have tried
not to hurt you.

God knows, I did!

---------------------------------------------------------------

I think I finally got over my holiday hangover to pour out poetry! Let the words come! (looking heavenwards!)

imagination

imagination
poignant visuals
within mind

Bhai dooj....bonding between brothers and sisters

Only in India, the bond of brotherly-sisterly love is gloried. We Hindus, celebrate this special relationship twice every year, with the festivals of 'Raksha Bandhan'( tyeing a sacred thread on brother's wrist) and 'Bhai Dooj'(celebrated two days after Diwali). Sisters all over India get ready for 'Bhai Dooj' - when sisters convey their love by putting an auspicious tilak or a vermilion mark on the forehead of their brothers and perform an aarti of him by showing him the light of the holy flame as a mark of love and protection from evil forces. Sisters are lavished with gifts, goodies and blessings from their brothers.

The name 'Dooj' means the second day after the new moon, the day of the festival, and 'Bhai' means brother. Every brother eagerly awaits this occasion that reinforces the bond between brothers and sisters and their affectionate relationship. It's an opportunity for a good feast at the sister's place, coupled with an enthusiastic exchange of gifts, and merriment amid the resounding of conch shells.

Legend says Yamaraj, the Lord of Death and the Custodian of Heaven and Hell, visits his sister Yami, who puts the auspicious mark on his forehead and prays for his well being. So it's held that anyone who receives a tilak from his sister on this day would never be hurled into hell.

According to another legend, on this day, Lord Krishna, after slaying the Narakasura demon, goes to his sister Subhadra who welcomes him with aarti, flowers and sweets, and puts the holy protective spot on her brother's forehead.

Yet another story behind the origin of Bhai Dooj says that when Mahavir, the founder of Jainism, attained nirvana, his brother King Nandivardhan was distressed because he missed him and was comforted by his sister Sudarshana. Since then, women have been revered during Bhai Dooj.

Like all other Hindu festivals, Bhai Dooj too has got a lot to do with family ties and social attachments. It serves as a good time, especially for a married girl, to get together with her own family, and share the post-Diwali glee.

Today being Bhai Dooj, my brothers came over and after the ceremonies was over, I cooked for them. Post lunch, we just chatted with each other, reliving the times of our childhood, mercilessly taking sides and generally having a good time.Yet again I found that such bonds can never be broken, no matter what.

Some things never change

Diwali. The festival of lights which is looked forward to, all throughout the year. This year it was on 21 October. Two months before Diwali, we have all kinds of sale. Clothes, consumer items, packaged food etc etc. So much so that resistance becomes rather difficult. Even if you refuse, you will be cajoled, persuaded, threatened to go out and make the most of it that is shop till you drop.

I do remember it was not like this when we were younger. We only bought crackers and candles but lighted earthen lamps which the tradition demanded. Sweets were prepared at home and shared with family, friends and neighbours. We all gathered at one place and burst crackers to our heart’s content. We felt so elated by new clothes which were mostly stitched by the local tailor. We only bought those stuff which was needed and not something we had to, just for the heck of it.

After we worshipped the Goddess of wealth, Lakshmi along with elephant God Ganesha, we lighted earthen lamps and candles. We spent all day soaking those earthen lamps in the sun and drying them in the sun. Come evening, we filled those with oil, put wicks and lighted those. Now electric lights have taken their places. We just get them and hang them. Kind of impersonal, I think. I used to have great fun bursting crackers with my three brothers. We used to compete who would burst the loudest of the lot. Though my mom wanted me to stay away from it all, I never listened. She always insisted I dress up traditionally on Diwali and not my usual attire of Jeans and a cast off tee ofone of my brothers. I listened to her as long as I was allowed to be one of the boys as my dad used to say.

Now everything seems to have changed. We just buy everything, sweets, cakes, chocolates, lights and clothes. We do not bother about the small things that matters. Consumerism is at its hilt. We are more into showing off. We get gifts and get them gift wrapped by the shop itself. We do not add any personal touch. We do not even have time for each other.

I don’t have anything against change. That is inevitable but what I really miss is the closeness we had with each other, with friends and neighbours. Now everything comes down to who bought what for whom.

This year I went off to my brother’s place for Diwali. My middle brother too turned up along with his family. After we offered our prayers to Goddess Lakshmi and Ganesha, time just did not have any meaning. I had a great time bursting crackers with them and their kids. I was back being one of the boys while my mom looked on indulgently and my dad blessed us from up there. Some things never change….

Niggling Doubts

nothing left to salvage of
what was once a beautiful relationship.
only debris which needs to be cleaned
to be thrown away like garbage,
not be thought of again.
as all has to be spick and span
for a fresh start with a clean slate.

so why do I feel this pang,
this niggling pain,
which refuses to let go
and forbids me
to say goodbye to you?

--------------------------------------

Before all of you assume that I am being, well, you know what I mean..I must tell you that I wrote it for an exercise named two word challenge. You can find that here. It has to have the two words "say goodbye" in any piece..prose/poetry... one writes.

cessation

stop thinking
because thoughts never did help anyone.
at times we just need to feel,
do things intuitively
going with the flow;
not reason it out
or fight it out.

as fighting only leads to
inner conflicts which do not resolve
despite best efforts.

but then what’s life
if we do not face it
squarely and bravely
even though our mind rejects.

Reunion.....Euphoria is yet to go...

Few days back, I was out shopping in the local market with my mom. We were kind of thinking which place to go first.

Suddenly a female comes and exclaims,"Gautami?"

I say,"yes, but who are you?"

"Meena",she says.

I don't recognise her at all. I know a lot of Meenas. I can't place her. But I don't want to let her know that. I ask her about what's new in her life, all the while trying to recollect. My mom knows what I am trying to do but before she can react, Meena says,"you know, Rina is in the teaching faculty of Indian Statistical Institue, Delhi."

Everything fell into place after that. I knew only one Rina with a sister named Meena. I turned toward my mom and said, "this is Meena, Rina's kid sister."
My mom did remember. She always used to ask me about Rina's whereabouts.

And only then I hugged her tight, right in the middle of the market, not hearing or seeing anything else. It was a huge surprise.

Rina and I had been in school in the same class, we travelled by the same school bus, staying very near each other. We used to be at each others place so much so that it was surpprising that we had lost touch after school. Her family had moved to Calcutta. And that was that. I was meeting her sister after 23 years. I don't know how she recognised me but I did not recognise her. I remembered Meena as a little girl who was always underfoot.

Meena told me they had been staying in the same area as we, since 1992 and we had shifted to this part in 1994. There was barely 1 km distance between us.I had not bumped on her before this.

Biggest part was yet to happen. I wanted to meet Rina. I invited myself to their place. I was thrilled to see her mom. Her dad had passed away 11 years back.

I can't describe how I felt meeting Rina. Needless to say, we ended up incoherent, crying, hugging and well, just being ourselves...

Two school friends meeting for the first time after 23 years. ....Though it's 5 days now, I can't get over it and neither has she..I am so happy I finally found her or so as to speak her sister found me....

We have a lot of catching up to do...but nothing matters as we are still those silly giggly school girls with each other.

Submerge

In the stillness of night
if you persist
in being that close to me;

I will have to find
a way to plunge myself
into your luminous soul.

........................................................

Hey friends, thanks to you all my muse is now alive and kicking.....despite my mood swings....