LOVE

Where do I start?

Where will it end?

The beginning, I can barely register. The ending I do not know…I can only hope…and pray…

I have always known of your presence, even when I did not know of your existence. Yes, confusing, isn’t it? For you, for me….How can that be possible, this instinctive knowledge about someone about whom you did not know till a short while ago. I could sense you in my life; I could feel you out there….

But somehow I am not surprised that we share so much despite never knowing about each other for almost all our lives till sometime back. But then it never stops to amaze me either. How is it possible despite being so different, we can be so similar? Different in culture, religion but similar in all other aspects…our thoughts, emotions, interests…our lives almost mirrored….parallel or reflected…..

For someone who needs a lot of space, I do not mind giving it up all for you. This very thought used to scare me. I always felt alone in a crowd, kind of detached…there but not quite there. Open to small talk yet closed up. You set me free. Just like that. You calm my volatile, ever changing mind, you soothe me with your silent presence, you give direction to my thoughts, and you bring out the best in me. With you silences speak so much. I never thought I can be so articulate with anyone. You touch my mind, my heart and my soul. I thank God for knowing you. I am blessed for you being there in my life.

What makes us tick?

What makes us tick?
Love, hate or fear?
All three together?
Or is it just the fear for loving
Or the fear of being hated?

Why do we really have to know?

Do you have to?
Do I have to?

Why do you?
Why do I?

Why should you?
Why should?

Why do we really have to know?

Why this need?
What's the compulsion?

Let me be me
You be you

We will explore as
We get along!

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Posting this in response to the post here by Jeff "Who Do We Know Really?"

Wonder.....

Will you behold what I hold
or hold what I behold?

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Do I hold on to you little longer
or will it take longer to hold you?


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You holding me, beholding me
Or is it the other way round?

Secret Rendezvous-----Comic Erotica

What a pretty site
after a long drive
All week long
she had been anticipating
tryst with her lover

Her husband had left town,
So she was here
Looking ahead
At her love nest
Waiting for her lover

Quaint little cottage
amidst the countryside
Belonged to her
husband was unaware

She undressed slowly,
climbed the four poster
Disarrayed she lay there
impatient for him

Finally it was over
She heard his car,
closing her eyes
Got under the covers

He climbed up the stairs
opened the bedroom door
Taking off his clothes
Got in there with her

Slowly touching her
Slowly biting her
His hands all over
His lips exploring

She went wild
Her moans said as much
He was on the edge
Trying to slowdown

He tightened his hold
Heightening her senses
Both lost control
Going over the edge

Cresendo!
Crash!

The old four-poster
Couldn’t take it anymore
Quite suddenly
it gave up under
their resonating rhythm


Instead of a
love-filled weekend,
Both were in hospital
with broken limbs
shattered egos!



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Next part follows….

What happens after hubby returns?

Come after a break!


Wrote this for a writing exercise. I know it needs re-writing. Will I ever get to that. Lets see!

Love of my life!

We fight, we bite
we kiss, we make up
my lover...my muse!

Haiku Friday

A hot summer day
so humid, sweaty, hellish
cooling my ardor


Almost tagged by ghost particle

Book Review: Just Beyond by Anjan Ray

I was kind of thrilled just looking at the title. That’s because I do have had somewhat similar experiences. I have never analysed my weird experiences. They just happen just like that with out any warning. Shall I say those are warning enough for what’s going to happen? How does one explain the unexplainable?

As Anjan puts it, most or very much real, supernatural, and unnatural or “Just Beyond…" After I started it, I couldn’t put it down. It held my attention till the end. I could relate to some, identify with a few and did not understand the rest.I can believe it when Anjan mentions that these are based on true episodes. There are certain things which do happen are beyond the realms understanding but are true nevertheless.

Let me take the stories one by one.

Seaside Story: Makes us believe in fairy tales. My grandfather, and now my maternal uncle do possess one such depressed shell with a legend behind it.

Homecoming: Life comes full circle, even after death. Power of destruction persists even after several lifetimes.

The Beach of Bodies: Murugan too has his revenge. How? Read the story!

Blooming Buds: Those blooming roses set her free. Free to do what she desires. The roses do not fade just like her feelings. So finally she can……

Maxine from Melmore: Now this story made me uneasy because something like this happened to me some time back. Why? How? I will never find the answers.

The Hand that Rocked the Cradle: this is one of the best stories in this collection. Now who rocked the cradle is debatable. Leaves it open for the readers to speculate….

Clean: Scared the hell out of me! Diabolical!

Pine Tree: A great love story which sustains beyond life!

In Search of the Lost Chord: Did he get it? Why? How?

Bird in Fight: Narration is very good but ending is expected. I salute the eagle!

The Coffee-Maker: A machine behaving erratically only for certain individuals. Kind of let down. But I loved the ending. Very fitting.

Monday Miracle: It has happened to me, though not to this extent. That’s all I can say.

The Influential Confluence: First, loved the title! And Mahesh’s faith and belief is what makes this one stand out.

Animal Instinct: Simply loved this! Maybe the unusual friendship between the boy and the tiger is so endearing! It somehow seems so plausible. How we all love Mowgli!

A Helping Hand: Ready with his help. How? That’s to be read.

The medicine Man: Same as above but is a different story told in entirely different way, in an entirely different situation.

The Voice of the River: Fitting poem for this book, as Anjan himself says.

The Tishomingo Tapestry: Great story in the tapestry! Suspense is sustained till the end!

Swan Song: Teaches us to trust in love or else……

That’s about it all. I have tried not to let out the endings in any story. I do not want to spoil it for any reader. Anjan Ray spins it very well. His narration is too good. You can almost see, feel and smell the places he has described. Be it India or any other place, one feels as if he/she is there where it unfolds. All in all a good read.

So folks, what’s stopping you? Who know “Just Beyond…” might you be there, just beyond...?

(c)gautami.tripathy

Just Beyond: Short Stories
by Anjan Ray. Stellar Om Books International. Pages 251. Rs 195

Identity by Milan Kundera-----My views

Finished reading “Identity” by Milan Kundera some time back. It’s one thin book. What is most interesting about his books is the way in which his characters are so realistic, how much they think, wonder, and speculate about things. Their interplay is very absorbing as can be seen within some of the predisposed dreams of various characters.

Identity is the most important thing for anyone in this in the world. It is what sets us apart from others. It’s our private domain.

In this book, for the two lovers, Chantal and Jean-Marc, their identities are as open as possible but still in their imaginations, they see a different person. Maybe it is the way we see others. Despite being very exposed about our identity to our loved one, we still have certain notions. The person maybe, is an open book but it might not seem so to us. What I like about the book is that the same situation has been told twice in different perspectives. That’s what is very interesting. And after reading it I had a different outlook apart from that of both the perceptions.

Jean-Marc knows that Chantal is his only link to the happiness in this world so he constantly worries about her, wants to make her happy always. He is afraid that she might get away from him. He does not really know her as he feels she isn’t what she seems. He doesn’t want the link between them to be lost. But he doesn’t know how to make her hold on to him. He does what he thinks is right and it kind of drives her away from him. And Chantal is on a look out for the identity of an anonymous admirer who sends her letters. The anonymous admirer keeps on writing about her and not a word about himself. She has this feeling that only he understands her. Not Jean-Marc. Now what happens after that……I can hardly tell it all.

One very important aspect I liked about the book is where Chantal thinks that we are not free from anything. We are constantly being hounded. Even in the womb, we are probed. Even after death, at times burial can’t escape speculations. One can be exhumed and quested upon. Only escape from it all is the crematory fire.

There are other nuggets too…..

©gautami.tripathy

Butterfly Cinquain----Weblogs

A cinquain has five lines.

One of the forms is:
Line 1 is one word (the title)
Line 2 is two words that describe the title.
Line 3 is three words that tell the action
Line 4 is four words that express the feeling
Line 5 is one word that recalls the title

Buttefly Cinquain has nine lines. the fifth line is taken as first for the second one.Both have to be related in one way or the other.

weblogs
electronic writing
expressing anything, everything
to the unknown world
e-journal
personal diaries
containg random thoughts
pertaining to varied issues
blogging!

For my mom---revised version

I wrote a few lines on mothers' day. Posted it on a network too. Rewriting it, I think it is kind of complete now. I changed it to present tense. My mom is still the same as she was before. She is still the loving, caring, nurturing person that she was when we were kids. At that time she wiped our tears withour our asking. Now she lets us deal with it ourselves but is there when we need her. She has always given us enough space. Mom, I love you though I might not tell you very often!

FOR MY MOM..................

I know for sure I have been bad
At times I made you so sad

You are there to hold my hand
Even when it feels time slips like sand

You love has always transcended all
You make me rise despite my fall

With your words always so sweet
You never let me feel deadbeat

Whenever I feel in the abyss
You are always there with a kiss

Your very presence soothes me so
To your dauntless spirit I do bow!

Bizarre Experiences......

I have had my share of experiences, some very vivid, some truly bizarre.... I do have such experiences very frequently which are so uncanny that I do not how to interpret until those happen. Minor ones keep happening.

Narrating only a few...………….which had some kind of major impact.

While I was getting my degree in education (1990), we had a chemistry teacher whom we all, kind of detested. He was very rude and sarcastic to boot. One day (March 1990) all of us wished he should go on a long leave. That night I had a dream, he was dead and I woke up scared. And next morning when we reached college, we heard he had died. I was upset for a long time afterwards.

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

I started out as a teacher in a school under the Delhi Administration. My first posting was in school in a resettlement colony in South Delhi (Dr Ambedkar Nagar). It was Dec 1992, and suddenly in the middle of teaching, I felt uneasy and asked the girls to get up and go out in the sun. They were surprised but did as I said. As soon as we left the class, one of the ceiling fans came crashing down.

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Just before a major train collision in India (Aug 95), I had seen it happening in vivid detail a week before.... with all gory details..... and lots of deaths. It happened on 20 August 1995. Delhi bound Purushottam express collided with Kalindi express in Firozabad. More than 450 people died.

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I had gone shopping with my friends in Karol Bagh (26 Oct 1997). We entered Roshan Di Kulfi, a very famous Kulfi Falooda shop in there. It was crowded but we managed to get a table. I had a vision of a blast and got up and forced my friends to come out with me. When we reached home we heard about the blast. Many died.

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I was in Mumbai. We had gone to the Juhu beach. It was 25 Dec 2004. The place was very crowded and filthy as always. We were standing there watching the sea. I saw the sea rise so much above and asked my brother if he had seen anything. He had not. The sea was calm. Next day we heard about the Tsunami.

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And the most recent one happened seven months back (13 Oct, 2005), when I visualised my car badly damaged in an accident, and no one hurt. And couple of days later (15th Oct, 2005), it happened exactly the way I had visualized it. I and my nephew were unhurt. But my car was very badly damaged. And it was in the workshop for more than a month. Now I am too scared to drive again.

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How do I explain all these?


I had posted this on my other blog. Putting it here again for wider audience!

Incomplete Verse----For my mom

I know for sure I have been bad
At times I made you so sad

You were there to hold my hand
Even when it felt time slipped like sand

You love has always transcended all
You made me rise despite my fall

Your very presence soothed me so
To your dauntless spirit I do bow!



Its not complete but I wanted to share even my incomplete thoughts here. There is so much inside my head but writing it all down is difficult. Somehow I am unable to form my thoughts here.

Death haiku

White virginal snow
falls so slow and steadily
death is so hurried

Bowing down?

tentacles of leaves
what is it you'er reaching for?
we still stand so tall

Batrachomyomachy

As mundane a body function
A knee-jerk action

Mind has no control
Mouth just rolls

Sleep or heat
Or just boredom

What’s so offensive?
About a reflex action?

Why the revulsion
No less than uproar

Suppose that’s
why it is called:

Batrachomyomachy


http://www.alphadictionary.com/goodword/date/2006/05/06
Batrachomyomachy
Pronunciation: bæ-trê-kê-mai-om-ê-ki Click Here if Plugin Doesn't Work.

Part of Speech: Noun, mass

Meaning: A tempest in a teacup, a mountain made of a molehill, making a federal case of a minor issue.

Interesting! I was just surfing the net and came across this word. Looking it up, I found it kind of explains what has been going at a network where I write and post! Words fell into place and what you see here is a semblance of poem. Maybe, verse!

I reacted the way I felt. No reason to feel offended. Why do I have to comform? Why do I have to tow the line? Just becos majority think alike does that necessarily make the thought better? If a writing forum is filled by posts of fictitious people and are encouraged to do so by a few others, then it does not augur well for the network. Humour is humour only upto a point. Carrying it too far makes it unfunny! If I show my boredom, I am considered rude. To be rude, was never my intention. To show my boredom was. I was bored...Well, I could have ignored but I did not. So? Is that a crime? A lone voice of dissent and few starts behaving boorishly. Few who participated in that post. Those who used to post regularly and great work too, have kind of disappeared. The forum seems to have been taken over a single person posting in the name of 4-5 others. If the moderator can't see it then its not my place to tell her/him so. Thats about it. Batrachomyomachy!! I might be suffering from this state too! Works either way, girl! Try holding your tongue, you Aries female!(This me talking to myself!!!)

Aphasia

thumping words
hammering
in my mind.
wanting an outlet
at the doorway of fate
asking for forbearance

aphasia.

cognizance’s end
elucidation's catastrophe
totality in the doldrums
stupefied, abeyant
i wait....

aphasia

Rhyming

Why worry writing poetry with rhyme?
Giving in to free verse is no crime.
That gives us freedom to write,
using banality, cliches and trite.

More Cinquains

weblogs
electronic writing
expressing anything, everything
to the unknown world
e-journals!

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mind
think tank
myriads of thoughts
going around in circles
brain

Together

why look so afraid
we are together in it now
spirits soaring high

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looking so far beyond
so close in mind and body
separated will we?

Another set of rules for cinquains

A cinquain has five lines.
Line 1 is one word (the title)
Line 2 is two words that describe the title.
Line 3 is three words that tell the action
Line 4 is four words that express the feeling
Line 5 is one word that recalls the title

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There is a syllable form too for cinquains

http://www.noggs.dsl.pipex.com/vf/englishsyllable.htm

Five lines; the syllable counts are 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.

Web Haiku

What have we got here?
Haiku on internet world
Real world gone to dogs

Lurking Death

sweetly scented flowers
what am I looking for here?
death lurking in there

Cinquains---my try

We learn something new as we go along. I learnt this form from a post at caferati!

Here goes:

Cinquains

The structure is as follows:

1 noun

2 adjectives

3 –ing verbs

1 complete sentence

1 proper noun

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Love
desirable,passionate,
adoring, craving,yearning,
only for you.
kindred?

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Girls
cute,sweet
sharing, caring,loving,
gods gift to us.
Perfection!

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thoughts
fast, swift
entering, passing, flying
Just like that.
cogitation!

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Oh Boy!
naughty, mischievious
coaxing, smiling, playing
Isn't he just?
Amlaan, my nephew!

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Delhi
hot,dry
melting,sweltering, killing
Where should I go?
Manali?

Insult

Wrote this for a writing exercise on Caferati. First one insults self and goes about insulting any two. See Writing exercise - poetry - insults. with a catch.


(1) Self

With a piece of chalk
I fool the kids

The sums I do
are seldom correct

My formula all wrong
basics gone to dogs

But do I care?
Why should I?

First generation learners,
they never complain

Working for govt
has its benefits

I stay on the job
as long as I want!


(2) Aparna Ray who always writes news in limericks!(due apologies!)

What have we done to deserve this?
Why do you write news limericks, sis?
So dull and boring
Utterly deploring
Sending you to Siberia will be a bliss!

Why write?

Reference to Question for The Writers at S&C

I do not write to please others. I write because I want to or at times I have to. Writing for me is an outlet. Maybe my inner self or creativity. At times there is no fine line between the two.

I for one cannot conform to set rules. I seldom follow rules in poetry. I am more comfortable with free verse. Established norms can only be followed to a certain point. At least I feel that way.

As Vasu says, how does one define a poem? Is my poem a poem for you too? Very difficult to say.

You may like a poem and I may loath it. Or worse unmoved by it. But it does not cease to be a poem. We all have varied reactions for the same piece of work.

Thats how I feel.

Invisible sky

surrounded by trees
my wings spread wide and ready
I can't see the sky

Grounded

Soaring my spirit
up above the sky so high
but my feet grounded

WEEKEND VIGNETTE

Spray swirled as we stood and spitted
shielding our ears from her waspish sting
Across the street, flies were being swatted
from tangdi kebab garnished with onion ring.


Wrote this sometime back as a parody to a post in a writing forum. I find that it can stand on its own. Hence posting it here.

Alter ego

where have I lost myself?
what do I see in here now?
my alter ego?

Destination Unknown

What do I seek?
How do I seek?
Why do I seek?
Do I really know?
Will I ever know?

Maybe yes, maybe no
But I have to try……

Where do I go from here?
How do I go from here?
Why do I go from here?
Do I really know?
Will I ever know?

Maybe yes, maybe no
But I have to try……

What I am
is not what I am.
Only when I go seek
I find myself.
Will I ever do that?
Will I find myself?

Maybe yes, maybe no
But I have to try......

Glory of nature

reflected in here
nature in all its glory
why do I feel sad?