in circle

the meanings in soundless messages
bodies when they speak, they speak all the time, just watch

young girl scurried past me on the street....
she scared me
saw the move of her silhouette from far...dark blue jeans and black shirt - the wardrobe's new to her, so much self awareness stitched into her clothing

she was slouched in every bone that could bend - she made me afraid of her fear,
streaked me with the taste of her inward curve - pungent crumbs in the air that she carried around her, old crumby blanket of recycled oxygen
ugghh
so much shudder in her still arms, what has the power to glue
the swing of walking arms to the sides???!
what are these things that kill the skip of a gait; crunch ease into a knot?
disturbing....ughh
what does it mean - blind fear?! how does one succeed in hiding in their own shadow
so many songs, snatches of music all around - what are these things...
that record a drone into lovely ears?

she was afraid of me too! why would i harm her in anyway,
i don't think she paused before cowering.
how can i harm that which cannot even be touched?
what's she missing in what she sees?

i don't know
i don't know....maybe over reacting, maybe tomorrow my memory of her would've morphed into mild slumber.....maybe a moment of bleak awareness in me now, but
i still am to see a circle with as perfect a concave as her

skin is deep

uhhh abrasive
everywhere

the weather, the moments, there's a current of desire in the water
smokey urban, purple funk
the city's ravaging everything, me. It's all lost in the sound of the rain, but not,
I can feel it
all these colours writhing in my hands
abrasive satin
again...tiny bits of sensations
pulled out from underneath skin

touch

futile has changed

Things that won't move, cannot be...
Just wait for Earth to flip a full circle in hope Tomorrow brings a different place under the feet of these Still. Better still,
I'm going now, find a Mover, race together against the speed of the earth, so
Tomorrow will always be a new place under my feet
this Destiny comes wrapped in Choice.

hellah

The sun is Jealous. A relentlessly Jealous bastard.

He’s been stuck. In the Same spot. For fifty zillion years. In the Same sky. He will be for another 38 zillion years. In the Same galaxy. At the center of the Same nine planets.

The sun has been stuck with Same. He’s Jealous of Us.

We have two thousand billion spots to get stuck in. One spot every moment. Feet here now, there now, I’m gone now. We have twenty four different skies everyday. Walk. Sit. Stand. Pace. Lie. Lie. Silence. Scream. Nudge. Drink coffee. File knives. Arrange books. We have arms with fingers dangling at their end, we touch everything we see. He’s jealous we have all this while he’s just got Same.

So he Burns
burns burns burns
Burn one half, then the other, then back to the first, burn, flip, burn, flip, burn. It’s a methodical burning. The skies first. Air. Mountain summits. Burn ice. Aeroplanes. Penthouses. Trees. Water. Ground. Burn our feet.

The sun has burnt a permanent fear into our eyes
lest we look him in his and laugh at his plight.

He blazes so much, at times he rains. Like today, now. Five minutes of surprise rain bang in the middle of a noon scorch. Hell it’s not rain – he just burnt himself to a sweat, the insane blob of fat orange.

And now look, he returns. Slips back into that bright orange-yellow vest that holds his brimming bosom. Fat sun - swallows our seas, our rivers, our terrace water tanks and burns at us in return.

Why doesn't he just burst vest and all

total

everything that ever happened

i became monday

On a grayish green Monday, the afternoon is just one bird’s chirping.
Senseless sound with a pointless rhythm Every now and then a big vehicle gurgles by, clearing its throat at the congested, narrow street. Every now a surprised cycle tinkles and then quiet gets reinstalled…
every now

and then on a reasonless Monday, the sun is slowly departing.
Few stray strands of winter have slipped out to caress…..face, neck, hands and feet
The sun is an imposition. Makes you aware of your skin….the sun is of skin, the winter of sensations.
The sun is an imposition, the winter a penchant, every

now and then on a crawling, turtle Monday…there’s nothing to do but sit quietly and get accessed
by irritating birds, coughing trucks, wisps of new weather

beat adam to it

he wants me to write
12 pieces on Home
in 45 days
few if can happen on Rain and Solitude
ok
I will
soon

Right now it’s an apple Sunday
Fruity and just the right amount of sweetness

It’s finger itch time, but I can’t place finger on thought
An elusive, this emotion
It offers, doesn’t give
Tease

i'll go ahead and enjoy the fruit
for now

sprinkle

Flowers in their fall
If I could fall like them
I’d fall
One thousand petals of pink delight
Down on a five-minute long painting
Of a dark, naked, dirty children filled street
I'll fall

The gush-sigh filled moments of a day, everyday. It’s a brimful to laugh with those children throwing flowers at each other. One little boy wore a fountain-ponytail, he squealed at me when I tugged his hair. He squealed n ran away, my heartache!!!

These moments….a painting.
No one will buy it, no wall will wear it, no one’ll ever again see it
But when I smile again tomorrow
It’ll be because the flowers moved me today

Sometimes it feels…I don’t catch up with life simply because I refuse to stand still.
Refuse to stand still and watch the flowers play with the children
Stand still and laugh with them in their dance
Stand still and be a part of the painting
Scratched in the breeze, brushed in the air, sketched in sudden streets
No one will buy it, no wall will wear it, no one’ll ever again see it
But
When I smile again tomorrow
It will be because of this moment today

A(nother) Brush with Brown Moby

Dramatis Personae

Spit Bubble, younger brother of Dinky Dee. The most insufferable nerd in the world
Andro & Meno Pauses, when parents relive the child in them. These two are always asleep
Sterile, the broom that Spit Bubble used to keep in arm’s reach to defend self from flying cockroaches that wafted in from dark, deep jungles outside
Dinky Dee, Spit Bubble’s elder sister. The unfaltering faith upholder of sillyness
Brown Moby, Dinky Dee’s worst enemy from many many lifetimes born in this as a big, brown butterfly the size of a bat. Very clever, knows Dinky like no one else does

Stage-Set

Spit Bubble is trying to relentlessly misinterpret the Theory of Subpneumonic Particles that transfer as Free Radicals in the Various Organics of Alien Chemistry. He has so far misinterpreted it in 108976654 ways.

Dinky Dee is back home after a few bottles of tequila and all charged up to do item numbers in old checkered pajamas. She is very threatened by Spit Bubble’s intelligence and fears he might get to the Ignoble before her. All efforts are made to steer the geek away from achieving his cause.

Sterile is lying faithfully by Bubble’s feet, he tries to desperately not snore lest the master’s academixed ups

Brown Moby has arrived in advance of Dinky’s stumbles and waits patiently to onslaught

Look For:

1. The first dotted line – when eye contact was made
2. Time of eye contact – 3 seconds
3. The Thick black line: Dinky’s last but one stupid move
4. The thick Red line: Brown Moby’s BRILLIANCE – intuitive knowledge of Dinky’s limbic brain. Will not leave the reader with any doubt who’s the Victorious!

Scene I, Act I

short

so many times words
feel
deficient of...
bereft of the whole

the rain is always wetter
shards sharper
the feel more precise
pleasure purer

these are just...many bits of delight
tiny bits of skin
pulled out from under sensations

only self contains

whizzdumb

A friend in need….must be locked up and forgotten
Keep your mouth shut….when a fly is sitting on it
One father is…..more than enough
The early bird catches the….cold
Familiarity breeds….baby familiarities!
Hasty climbers…….take more pee-breaks
If the sky falls…..take it to the doctor
Little strokes fell…. mosquitoes
Still waters run…..haha! no no…
You can’t please…..my grandmother, impossible
All cats are grey…..when they get old
All good things come to those who…..give their addresses right
Bad news travels….through CNN-IBN
The best doctors are Dr Diet, Dr Quiet, and….Dr.Satish, 4th Block, Jayanagara
Children and fools tell…..weird stories
Dead men don’t…push you off the bed
Do as I say….ok?
Don’t count your chickens….just kill them and eat them ya!
Eagles don’t catch the…..cricket ball
Faint heart never won fair….and lovely
Give the devil….Peco’s Beer!
If you lie down with dogs….they’ll poop on you!!!
In the country of the blind…TV’s cannot be sold
Little things please…..get out of my way
Love me, love my…not
Make hay while the…cows are hungry
Marriages are made in….Prestige Pressure Cooker
Misery loves….Misera!
Poverty is not a….type of government
Practice makes….you very tired
Quickly come, quickly….come come come
One Englishman can beat.....Shilpa Shetty!!!!

ting ting ti ting

I am the Brittania jingle today

from when I set out on the long walk from new home (yayyy) to office in the morning

Didn’t fall asleep quickly last night…first night alone in new house…pillow arrived much, much before dreamless sleep. Read hemingway in hope of water n salt dreams…kept hoping till the pigeons woke me up! They get rather loud, those fellows. But yes, their gurgle is any day preferred to ma’s hoarse roar (full of ferocious love, am sure). The terrace my new shack’s on – was apparently a roosting ground for pigeons….till OB (awesome neighbour plus sexy cook, on same terrace, but in executive suite) drove them almost away two bird-generations back. But such responsible strangers birds are I tell you….they returned to ensure early rising happened on my first morning in new cubby.

P.S. The third morning actually, but the first two were cruelly snatched from me by a drunken, passed out small girl who refused to leave before sunset. So real celebration of new home started only last night

And I don’t know how it happened, but I broke the metal standing things attached to my rickety bed…so second round of stealthy sleep was disturbed by loud clanging things…had a great fall, the metal thing, with my clothes n all….but it’s ok, not the kind of damage that’ll disrupt sleep tonight

So anyway, morning alone-coffee was full of silly grins on the terrace…I can wake up at the same late hour and spend twice the time on coffee now :-))))))))))))))))))))

And ofcourse, the silliness had to increase……BMP auto stops at corner below with “Bengalooru Mahanagara Palike City News” blaring broadcast. No news too obviously…just a saccharine voicing threat to residents that legal action will be taken if we don’t participate in Keep-City-Clean project. I ran inside to fetch ashtray.

Walked to the office!! Small girl called n quickly warned me to not resort to cheap tricks like jumping into a rickshaw – don’t you dare take an auto, it’s a two-minute, enjoy the walk!!
I did!!!

And walked in at unprecedented 15minutes late at work!! (everyone else comes in atleast an hour late, comparison accentuates..)

My new home!!!….match-box sized on garden terrace! View includes ugly bubble-head-dome of an uglier house, but still….who cares…there’s pigeons for alarm clocks…and open terrace with rusted swing for coffee time...and kind neighbour who cooks lovely smelling dishes and invites me to pig...and a very nice road also i discovered nearby for late evening, jolly strolls....many watering holes all in one kilometer radius...and last but not the least, big lake little away!

First day full of tra la la la laaaaa’s

streets

Jayanagara ….As darling Disease calls it….
bittersweet pangy moment of a “jayanagara ladiesu”…the psycho is a non-jayanagara, don’t know why she got included in the A-List…am the only true blue!

sunny Tuesday far far away from my part of the city….left it! Abandoned it
bipin said, very wisely..."when you leave a person, when you leave a place...."

this though...can let go, can never cut loose

The equation is strange…the minute I figure it out, grows into more, many, in every direction
Strange…
And wholesome…..and endlessly gratifying….those nooks n crannies of that locality – I know the texture of every turn there

and those streets…they always made me sinnnnngggggg

Streets are different
You can’t teach them weakness
Can’t make them stop waiting for you
Can’t teach them cruelty
The only object of love you can walk bloody thoughtlessly all over
And then they take you by surprise, throw you down n walk all over you……ache touch under bare feet

They know my feet – those streets – no destinations need to be planned, they just take me places....

ground of free flights

soar

....

how words between us have dwindled with the days
the present - these past some days - has the mind-fog that belongs to far memories

what it means....
when today feels like a memory

tomorrow will stretch some more silence

no-look man

this man at the bakery...
i stood next to him for all of some five minutes
my order was a long noise full of indecision
this man was right next to me, I was in reach of his shirt-pocket wrinkle details
he had a no-look on his face, he just stood there...his back to the street, snack in his hand, he in full view of the bakery-insides
this strange, still man with a no-look on his face, not a vacant look - not a look devoid of,...but just at point.0
i was right next to him - he was not aware of me
stand right next to someone and be powerless to be present
strange comfortingly awesome

strange things
touch me in strange ways, this man did...i felt my absence standing next to him

he wasn't looking at anything inside the bakery....just some very boring scenery many streets beyond the walls of the bakery, it did nothing to him, whatever he was looking at did nothing to him
and he didn't want to do a thing about whatever he was looking at

i wonder...
about the size and nature of his consciousness
he also not once looked at what he was eating