Thursday, August 20, 2020

How should we talk about...?

Tell me how should we talk about death?

Should we cry together..

Should we talk about it..

Should we just sit in slience..

Should we go about as if nothing happened ..

Should we leave each other be..

Should we say we are here for you..

Should we not talk about it..instead talk what's the world come to?

Come by..become..

Should we never mention it ever again..

Tell me so that when I die or when you come to pass over to the other side 

We would know what to do..

"Come to pass over" this will definitely make you laugh..

Laugh !!

We should laugh about it. 


Written on 20th August, 2020. 


(Hello.. everyone hope all of you are doing well in these trying times..of course not a good topic for a poem.. but that is a reality..and  I am very bad at talking to people about death.. so this idea came up..and my quickest peom till date..I guess 10 minutes flat..take care..till then..Laugh it off !! :) )


Monday, August 19, 2019

Who will come and what they will say on your death?



Who will come and what will they say on your death? 
He had thought about it before.
He thought about it again, today.
Standing in line to pay his respects. 

A manicured hand was going through open free hair in front.
Dark shades were being adjusted on a face behind him. 
What were they thinking? Were they thinking about the person?
The good times..the bad ones..
Or the next thing to do after this social rigamarole.

1. She pushes the dark shades up her eyes
Hoists herself in the line of respects
Dark shades help,
They hide so many things.
Lust, loss, love, loneliness.

Nobody knew of the bond they shared.
The friendship..
How every time she was on the edge
Two friendly hands pulled her back. 

Funerals are no fun she thought..
That would have made those kind eyes laugh..
Dark shades hide tears too.

She thinks about the things to say to the loved ones at the end of the line. 
Words catch in her throat ..make way through her eyes
Hidden behind the shades, she says nothing.. her eyes say everything. 

2. Her hands were getting caught in her unruly hair, 
The multiple diamond bands, bracelets and bangles..all pulling at them. 
She fears she will break a nail..of one of her freshly manicured fingers.
A hand rests on her shoulder.
Saying with a hard squeeze don't fidget, don't look for a cigarette. 
She looks back at the man with a vice grip on her soul, her life, her laughter. 
This pressure on her shoulder was featherlight. 

She looks ahead.. the line is moving too slowly..not at all for her.
It is as still and silent as the person at the end of it.
Silent at her tears, her screams, shrieks, her agony and her appeals.
Her eyes are full of loathing for that silence.
As the line moves.. there is only pity in her blank eyes.  


3. He watches the line move forward
He thinks about the person who died.
His loss..his love..his soulmate 
Who had the courage, but he didn't
To defy the world, it's norms and it's clutches of tradition
He wanted to say I love you, I miss you. 
But he couldn't.

People don't say what they want on your death.
They say want those who are left behind want to hear.
Everyone comes..almost
Most say little,
Some say nothing that matters.
The ones that matter stay silent forever. 

The line has ended..so has the show.
The manicured hand is tapping ash out of a car window.
Through the dark shades she looks at the hand in the car and thinks.. lucky !!
Rolling up the window she sees dark shades..torn jeans..thinks..free !!
He shakes his head..muses..who will come and what they will say on his death?
Good person.. mad person.. definitely mad !!
He laughs, looks up at the sky hoping to hear that smile back.








Written 22nd July, 2019. (initial idea)

Hey junta..how are you all doing? I had said sometime ago actually a long time ago that I would not say long time no see or it's been a long time,, but frankly speaking its been a long time.. this poem took a long time coming..took sometime to come from paper to blog.. took some more time to write this comment..well long should be my middle name now.. :) :P  but well.. so how you all? How's life? What you been all upto? I for starters have been so mired in the petty stuff that I think I forgot to breathe..so this poem is like a breath of fresh air..not my best or my finest..but still I can write. It may seem to be a bit long and a bit laboured..firstly because it took some effort, secondly because though I wrote it on paper first but not the entire poem and while writing it on the blog.. twice it did not get saved so had to write it again. Simplicity of thought gets muddied.
So this is my first poem that I wrote in a moving vehicle..a taxi.. while returning home..it is long journey.. see long again..:) It started with dark shades hide a lot idea. Then as I was in a taxi I remembered that sometime ago in another taxi ride I had seen a beautiful manicured hand out of car window tapping cigarette ash. I couldn't see the face and wondered about the story of that hand. So when dark shades hide tears.. tears in a funeral.. and this hand could have been going to or returning from a funeral. I had already written few lines for poem titled 'Who will come..' earlier from there came the idea of poem within a poem or short stories in a poem. Thus in this poem where three different people have come to the same funeral and telling their own stories. They see the other person and make assumptions without knowing what they are going through. We do that everyday no? Make assumptions about a person without knowing their life journey. 
Have you ever wondered what will people say when you die? more than who will come.. Good person? everyone will say that right..thats a safe word :).. think about it..till then have fun and happy rediscovering yourself. So long !! ;) :P 

Monday, June 12, 2017

There is a sadness in his eyes..

There is a sadness in his eyes...
But his eyes smile, they do, a lot.
What is it then, I see
Is it my questioning look
My searching for sadness
Hoping to find some loss
Some hurt..

He had lost a love.
A life.
He must hurt
I am convinced
I look for proof
I dig
I observe.

His smiling eyes
Are they mocking me?
Hiding behind the veil of happiness!
No they are happy.
Prodding me to smile some more
I laugh a little
Live a little.

I am careful around him
He has not spoken about it
Do I want the details
Yes..
No..I want to know how is he feeling..coping..
No..I want to know how is he happy
Genuinely.
Truly.

His eyes smile a lot
Deeply
There is love, hope..longing
Life..
Maybe I will ask him one day
How..why?
Maybe I will learn to smile some more
He is a good teacher
Infectious.

I smile a little more
My eyes smile a little less
Haltingly..
My sadness is reflected in his.
His looks at me.
Me.
Deeply.

He surrounds me with laughing eyes
I throw my head back and chortle
My eyes are smiling
His shine with mirth.


Written on 11th June, 2017.
(So I have discovered that when I read only then can I write Ideas, words start popping in my head.  Of course I have to have time to sit down, think and write. Of course I have written after a long long time. Also wrote this poem on paper first and at one go after ages. Though what you see here is an edited version. So how have you been? Happy? Sad? Listless? going about the motions? Not wanting to get in the details of the inspiration behind the poem. I think the people who have truly suffered loss are the ones who are also truly happy..or they learn to be happy or they appreciate or treasure the happy times more. Not all..maybe only a few.. Maybe there are just happy souls..innocent..childlike..cute..Actually that is the word cute..in the true sense.. Hope you have such cute souls around you. Happy Vacations !! :) I will see you when I see you)





Sunday, January 31, 2016

Walk of Life

Stumbling,tottering and tilting
falling over
getting up again, unsure yet curious
All the time laughing.
smiling and learning.

Kicking around, jumping over,
sprinting and climbing,
scraping..hurting.
Always persevering.
stretching the limits,
achieving and exhaling.

Strolling, ambling aimlessly,
tripping, tramping..locking and unlocking
loving, playing, teasing, pursuing
Twirling.
swaying and spinning.
dancing away in the night.

Shepherding,guiding,
leading and being lead on.

Marching on,
always running but curiously staying at the same place.
trudging and plodding.
Scraping, scurrying,
looking behind never fondly.
Never ahead with awe.

Kneeling, bending with the weight.
stopping..almost..
steadying.
Heavy heart..lifting

Uplifting again..the soul, the mind
starting again..
slipping..tottering..
Smiling and learning anew.


Written on 31st January, 2016.

(Hello there..how is it going? Long time no see, no hear, no write.. We have gone beyond explanations now right??!! Like a bad penny that returns or more like if you love someone set them free and they do return !! :D  Believe me I tired..really..but could not write..not that I did not have the time ..though I was busy and have discovered you are more busy in your head than with work. I just could not write..came here many times started one or two poems..could not finish them..had no new ideas. Today too I came back as I have some time on my hands..what with being laid up in bed compulsorily. Relax not to worry too much..ankle sprain and ligament tear..so basically now learning to walk..self teaching this time around !!:)..and thought what about writing about learning to walk..and from there it went to how walking, and being on our feet, up and about..kinds of defines our phases of life..and hence the poem. I have written about hands as Links of Life  and this could be a kind of a parallel. Self inspiration..don't worry I am not going to write about any more body parts. And well, if nothing else there are a whole lot of synonyms to learn here ;). So in the process learnt to write again..and one more realisation dawned. Creativity needs discipline too. Hope I can translate this into other things in my life. That's a good way to start the new year too right..ya ya I know..but better late than never..Happy New Year !! See you around and keep walking.) 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Yellow Truck

In the backyard,
Among the beetles and boxes,
Broken bottles and bright sunlight,
The yellow truck glistened.

It sped through,
The wilting lilies and tall grasses,
Whizzing past the rickety chair of grandma,
And spicy sunbathing pickle bottles.

It turned turtle quiet a few times.
Banging into many a feet and furniture.
Screaming children and scolding parents,
Scurrying out of its way.

It sped through,
On four red wheels,
Two wooden planks,
Yellow in colour,
The yellow truck.

It had no engine, no power
Only little hands moved it and
Small legs ran with it, gave it speed.
And leaped over hurdles.
Squeals of laughter were the horns
And tired little bodies, the brakes.

It sped through.
It amazed them,the little beings.
Irritated adults.
Entertained toothless gramps.
Simple, plain, unadorned.
The yellow truck.


Written on 5th October, 2014.

( Hi.. I am back :) No excuses..no complaints and no usage of the word "long" with varied no. of "o". The poem is inspired by a friend who told me story about his yellow truck one of the very few toys he had and how it was so simple and made of  wood ..and not like todays' toys so complicated and sophisticated. He had the most fun with it and amazing thing is his nephew inherited the truck from him and used to play with it. Taking a deep breath and remembering childhood days and reliving the simple joys and fun times is one of our favourite pastimes. Those were the days !! So this festive season (all the ads are saying that :P ) follow the KISS principle..keep it simple stupid !! :) Happy Id and Happy Diwali !! :) )

Friday, December 6, 2013

The river of winter

It gathers like froth over the cold earth,
Swirling around lovers on a secret rendezvous,
Whispering and murmuring.
It flows and ebbs like the sea over the valley,
Playing hide and seek with the moon,
Twinkling and shining.
It twists and turns like a storm,
Rolling down the hills stealthily into the eye of a mystery,
Whistling and  chattering.
It strolls hand in hand with the evening,
Bidding farewell to the sun,
Silently and smiling.
It tempts and teases,
Inviting and forbidding,
Cosy and cold.
Dark and light.
Black and white.
Beautiful and evil.
It envelops all,
The river of winter..
Fog..over the cold earth.



Written on 6th December, 2013.

(Well what do I say..sorry won't cut it but still sorry..My second post this year..lots of changes this year..no longer a student..working..setting up my home..and lots of other things. Its winter time and time for white mornings, staring into nothingness and  mysterious beauty..hot chai and lazy days.. Hope you are having one of these days or will soon have them what with the holidays coming..So here's to cheerful, thankful and forgiving times..:) A Beintot !! ) 

Friday, February 1, 2013

सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है

सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है
वोह पतली सी
हरे रंग की,
कुछ रंग बिरंगी फूल बने थे
कबसे लिपटे थे वोह उन कर्मठ कंधो पर।

माचिस की खुशबू
कई मसालों कि महक
आया करती थी उस से
कभी सर पर कभी कंधों पे झुला करती
काम करते हाथों को गर्मी कहाँ भाती है।

कभी कभी रसोई में दौड़ लगाते हम
छिप जाया करते  उसके अन्दर
उसके हरे धागों के बीच से आती झिलमिल रोशिनी
वह भीनी महक
और सुन्हेलि गर्मी
एक अलग ही संसार था।
सादा सुखद और शांत।

अब सर्दी में मोटे मोटे स्वेटरों में कहीं चिपे हुए हम
नीचे देख के जल्दी जल्दी भागते रहते है
ठंड से .. अकेलेपन से .. शोर से
तो और भी
सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है।


Written on 1st February, 2013.

(First post of the year..A very Happy New Year !! wont apologize for the long absence because there is no excuse or apology. This poem was in my mind since long..I still remember that green shawl mom had and used to wear it in the severe winters of Srinagar. I can still smell matchsticks and spices on it. Have not seen it since long. Will check if she still has it. Memories have a way of lingering.. :) Till next time.. Hopefully soon..Happy Valentines Day !! Spread Love)