Building Dreams

Building Dreams,

Unfolding the plan, of the art of hand and acumen of the brain,

Inscribing on the earth the power of the soul,

Land, water, air, fire, and space, all the elements are encompassed,

Drawing from all the sources of knowledge to celebrate the mother of all arts,

In balance have to be beauty and utility,

Nothing is wasted of the precious dreams,

Good work done is theirs and yet not.

Dreams are mostly of others,but

Realising them as their own,

Etching on their memory and moving on, 

Applause is for the dreams and not the maker; but,

Must is the recognition for work done well; and sooner or later,

Someday when the present is past people will say "look they built dreams."

{One of my good friends' is an architect and I had written it for her. The style is inspired by Vikram Seth's poems in his novel 'The Suitable Boy' where one of suitors of Lata i.e. Amit writes poems to woo her in verse where each lines starts with the letter of their names. so its like Amit, Lata, Amit, Lata..if you read vertically the first letters and so on. Here also you will notice that the first letters make the words Building Dreams. Some poetic license has been taken to fit the verse into the letters.. of course. Building dreams is my way interpreting the work of an architect mostly of course houses which are big dreams of every individual and how the architect makes it real. Though commercial projects also are visions of some big shot !! :) And how they move on from one project to another. This letting go thing bugs me , intrigues me and mesmerises me. How mothers can let go of their children [see Mom and the little girl] , how directors agree to let others see their movies. A very interesting study it will be !! (Researchers' dilemma every where you see a research problem) 

P.S. Architecture is known as the mother of all arts as it combines all art forms.} 

Written on 18th August, 2000. 

She Smiled

She smiled and took it,

She smiled and took it in,

She smiled and took it inside,

She smiled and took it deep inside,

She smiled and took it deep inside her heart,

She smiled and took the spear of pain,

She smiled and saw her heart cracking up, 

She smiled when her being fell about her in pieces, 

She smiled and started picking up the pieces,

She smiled and the looked up and the sun smiled back at her;

Brightly !!!!

(Putting the poems on the blog have made me realise that I did not give them titles earlier, and have to think of them now. )

Written in January 2000. (2000 has been the year of the greatest output of poems , mostly some lines strung up together, some decent.) 

A Friend

I was sad (jealous would be better)

To see, two people going hand in hand;

Happily, laughing and talking.

A tear streaked down my cheek.

Then I felt gentle touch on my shoulder,

I looked back, a face I could not recall.

But it soothing, warm, with an ear to ear smile.

We laughed together like small kids,

Shouting, shrieking, jumping together,

Taking out all our longings.

Then it was gone.

I was not sad 'cause I had a special gift.

Now I wave out to them.

I know it was a friend who'll remain for ever. 

(This is my first poem ever !!!!!! which I wrote in class 7th.  One of my classmates asked me write something in her card which she was to give to her to friend as it was friendship day and then I was inspired to write this poem.) 

Written on Friendship day in 1992 ( must be August ..God its been 17 years !!!!! ) 

Hall of Life

I don't cry because, 

My heart is joined by tears,

Tears warm, smooth and salty,

They fit in any grove,

My heart gives them enough room.

Room of laughter;

Why laughter you ask?

Laughter because true mirth brings tears.

Room of love;

Love the eternal reason for tears 

Those who get it cry and those who don't too.

Room of pain;

Pain, very natural you say,

Yes, but not of knife stabs but pin pricks.

Room of joy;

Joy not in reaching the stars,

But of meeting meteorites on the way and then leaving them.

There are many other rooms, interconnected;

Some closed, some open, some fictitious, some real.

But there is a Hall in which all these rooms open,

The Hall of Life.

Life with all its laughter, love, pain and joys.

And all these are joined by tears.

So now you know I don't cry, because I don't want the door of the,

Hall of Life shut on me. 

( I used to consider it my best poem till date , before Labour of Love came along. The later is many layered and I really like the metaphors and allusions used in it. This poem is simple, subtle and beautiful. That is why it gives it name to the blog. {I know I am very modest !! ;) } )

Written on 3rd May, 2000. 

Mom and the Little Girl

As the little girl with eyes heavy with sleep

Lay down her head in my lap

It was feather light

I told her mom that it felt nice..

She beamed and said it was the best thing in the world “A mother”

 

She is mother to a little girl

A mother of a little girl

Mother … because of the little girl.

 

She learns the rhymes with her and recites it too..

Knows her alphabets and numbers too..

But only as far as the little girl can go

Did you know that Hansel & Gretel’s father drove out their step mom out?

She knows..

 

From the day she first held her in her arms and glowed with something ethereal 

She does a million of small things which might seem mundane ..

The first spoon of cereal to the last glass of milk for the day .. it is a mind boggling game

Rice is eaten without any curry and spoon should also be free of any slurry

 

“It takes just a little effort”  the father had told me once.

Little!!! really as surprises come in small packages so does ..happiness, responsibility and major food habit followers

 

As the little girl runs to get a hug from one of her favourite uncles..

I wonder how the mother can let go of her so easily, and

Not once but everyday, every time

First day of school and she takes a backseat

First friend and the games exclude her

First crush and ..

 

But their love which is limitless, timeless, never ending

They share stories, jokes and junk jewelry and in near future

They will fight over clothes and shoes.

 

As the mother looks on lovingly !!

She is jolted from behind with a spontaneous hug 

And the little girl says “ Happy Birthday Mamma”

 

(Had written it for Bobby (a friend and a mother of a lovely girl Raavee) for her birthday. Inspired by true events) 

Written on 27th November, 2008.

Labour of Love

She was sinking ..

Having lost more than blood

A part of Her soul !

 

He, was carrying the – a wave in his arms

Light as sand

Soft as wind

 

Life and death in the same room ..same space ??

Is it possible?

Is it human?

Is it God’s will ?

 

She created the wave she thinks defiantly !

While holding on to the umbilical cord of life ready to be severed

He does not know his share of blame .. too great too little ?

 

Blame??

When did it come to this?

Not when they were weaving pink and blue dreams..

Not when the little soft things were filling all the spaces in their lives

Not when the fun of the elephant in their hands gave them pleasure after ages of being blindfolded

Not when speaking rounded languages had them in splits.

 

They were happy..

They were true

They were fulfilling their destiny of blood making blood not spilling it ,

Sinew making sinew stronger and not slashing it..

 

For more love in this parched world

They were bringing in that clear sparkling laughter like waterfall.

For that wide eyed wonderment in the cynical maze of there and done..

For that sanity which is lost in the deathly hollows of pains

Life was to shine through the mist of loss.

 

But at the cost of his love he thought

Never !! Never !!! Not even when..

 

The Wave breaks against the rocks of love ..

The Man takes off the hood and dons the father’s cap

The Wind caresses him

The Sand of time has begun to fall .. few seconds few minutes then few days and years..

 

But not alone ..not alone

Partners in crime or destiny or duty or need or desire or walking the well trodden path

He doesn’t know he doesn’t care

He prays, He begs, He breaks !!

The piece of His creation, his God in arms squirms to meet her other half

 

He brings her closer to Her

Though they are still joined, were joined, will ever be joined by the

Sometime strangulating, sometime relieving, sometime hurting, sometime happy ..cord of love.

 

The Wave breaks again this time stronger

The Wind gushes too ready to push away the icy hands of darkness

Closed fists, small fists clenched only with love..

 

She breathes ..she breathes.. He breathes

 

The Sun breaks through the clouds..

The yellow flower turns and stretches lazily in the warmth. 

Written on 26th March, 2009. 

I wish I could

I wish I could strum up guitar strings and tell you how much we love you,

The tune of time tugs at our heart strings and tells that the its been a journey full of laughter,

Sometimes merry, tinkling like falling water from a spring,

And sometimes it is raucous and riotous when the very ramparts of the edifice of fellowship shook with enjoyment.

 

I wish I could sketch the joy and mirth of the time we spent together,

Which was filled with so much fun, frolic, faux pas and food !!!!!

To draw a line around our waists is a task which still eludes,

And to catch up with your line of thought which changes in a flash is a task less shrewd.

 

I wish I could capture the beauty of our friendship which transcends ties of blood,

But which gets inspired everyday by the serially soapy ties of melodrama and saas bahu flood,

The soap opera will hopefully outlive its present channel of  F(P)M,

And like always in the hundreds of photographs will get clicked.

 

I wish I could cook up ways to keep you here,

To have more meals made by hierarchically ordered chefs,

From chief, to head, to choppers and mixers,

And have the fun of too many cooks brewing the best broth !!

 

I wish I could work on two proposals at the same time,

But I am yet to capture the essence of being doctoral student,

The ones that doctors her advisers well and at the same time nurses her heart,

By giving love potions mixed with black tea.

 

I wish I could say goodbye!!

(Written it for Richa Di as she was leaving us after completing her FPM)  

Written on (rather finished it ..on ) 28th March, 2009. 

I see the world through you

'Don't look into my eyes' ...she had written

'I don't want to see this world anymore' ..

I read it and could not understand ...

What she meant ...

 

Was she saying that 'I look into your eyes and see the world ... you are my mirror' ...

I was a mirror once when my clear sparkling conscience reflected whatever it saw..

No exaggeration , no adulation, no pretence ....

Where did I lose it .. down some road of achievement ...

 

She meant maybe 'I see the world as you see it ... you are my window'

My senses are fogged now ... right or wrong is not the question ...

I cant seem to see things as they numbed by my many layers of  pretences ..

As I climbed higher the space was airless, musty and moldy ...

I had shut the window to the world of tree lined streets and gurgle of innocent voices

 

Or she was crying out to say ... 'I see the world where you see it ... you are

my compass .. due north..'

Due North ... what fun it was discover where I was going, what I was doing ...

Now directions are useless... they mean nothing..

I am going somewhere without going anywhere ...

A life surviving .. without living...

 

She was saying ...' look at me and tell me what the world is out there like now...

Because what I see in your eyes is the death of what we believed in once'

 

I see now and hear too .....

I understand no.. I know that it was I who saw the world through her ...

She was my mirror, my window , my compass..

But one day I turned ... lured by the sounds beyond ... and I turned blind...

 

Darling .. do not shut me out , do not stop looking..

Because your eyes are my world ... I look in them and I see myself ...

I want to see again, listen again...live again...

 

 

 

(Inspired by one of my friends orkut album pics .. title..

the first line of the poem is the title ..

I was quiet intrigued by it and what she meant.. and hence ..this ) 

Written on 23rd May, 2008.