Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Chandamama Mooned

Oblivious, yet orbital;
above all he hovered.
During the day, invisible.
Illuminous post sundown.
Through myriad phases,
he circled not giving a tuppence,
about the lives on the damned land.


Until, he noted a peculiar behavior
prevail, all over.
He slid down on a mission,
in a black cassock, under cover;
To spot the super power
that’s keeping their necks craned
and heads lowered.


Now, not a grayhead,
pointing up, narrated fables
to their offspring during supper.
And amidst power cuts
in the candle’s glow,
no lips whispered
tales of lore to those nearby ears.


Awkwardly, these days in solitude
their faces shone, nonetheless.
Bouncing off a luminous blue
emitted from the plaques
they were cuffed to.
Radiant and engaging, these devices
were stuck between their faces and palms.


Finally, he had found the deceptively devised,
and enviably engrossing, source for misery.
Little wonder, they quite rarely shared
or as an heirloom, they inherited the stories;
sickened, he aborted the mission
and returned to his synchronous rotation.
With his dark side, dropping his cassock, he mooned
but the damned, all the more, paid no attention.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

we, the gluttons

a slice of pizza, burger and fries,
sub: a foot long or six inches,
paratha wraps aka kati rolls,
ramen, or the new upma/poha in a cup.
to wash it down an aerated drink
or some fancy customized coffee
in a paper cup and demerara sugar.
when famished we have it all figured out,
our source of fuel is mostly on the go.


licking off the walls,
picking from beneath the thumb scrolls.
nibbling on crumbs, instantly available:
click bait headers, forwards, shares
and retweets; unverified, unreliable.
ironical, isn't it how we starve
ourselves of the truth.
we, the gluttons, follow
a similar pattern of nutrition
while we go on satiating our soul.

Monday, May 29, 2017

We, the Fish

1. Stop whatever you’re doing 
and read this. Right now.
First, they get you curious.
And eventually, grab your attention.

2. This will change the way you look at or 
do that usual thing forever.
Transformation; not really guaranteed.
Perception change? Maybe.

3. Shocking truths about the bygone era.
Or of the who’s who, who are no more.  
Of course, they know your fingers itch
to scroll and feed those eyes without a fact check.

4. This is the key to land your dream job.
Or 12 skills to learn in a week to move further up.
Now, after reading this will you scale the ladder? Unsure.
But while at it, you missed yesterday’s deadline for sure.

5. Take this Quiz to know which Literary/Historical/ Sitcom character
or as per your Zodiac sign which Extraterrestrial/Jurassic species you are.
Based on certain permutations and combination;
Squeeze yourself into moulds by answering a few idiot-proofed questions.

6. 24 hacks to excel in whatever you do. 
You won’t believe what’s on No. 22.
Pointers prefixed with bullets or numbers.
They ration the one-pot meal into a seven course.

7. 7 worst things that could happen to those reading clickbait headlines. 
Congratulations! You’ve almost read seven. 
And to know that you’re still reading is reassuring.
We, the Fish, will continue to bite the bait, time and again.

Tuesday, May 09, 2017

whispers of a zephyr

Opening the door quietly I snuck in. Slid behind the curtains and flicked through the room from corner to corner, dribbling the dust balls. The room was still and well lit. The cutlery made most of the sounds in no particular rhyme or rhythm. With him on one side of the table and her on the other, it seemed supper is all that had brought them there. Once done, they would be off to do whatever they were up to just before this. Perhaps, stare back at those glowing plaques and thumb down into oblivion. Or, go to bed with their backs facing each other’s while they gazed and scrolled further till their eyes slumped to slumber. Slowly, I made my way out through the window’s crevice; rustling up the foliage on the portico. Whistled at one of my two accomplices up there, who flashed a blinding light and signaled at the other. Within a few seconds the third accomplice cracked his whip in one slick motion and struck the nearby transformer. Pitch dark in a split second. The stars in the skies slowly faded in. The clouds gave way for the moon to slide in through the skylight. I made my way back in to find them in the same place with a candle lit and placed on the table in between. Their heads still hung low. Swiftly I tipped her toes and tickled her under sole. Circling my way up to gently lift her chin up and bounced off her forehead. A few strands of her hair veiled her face that instant. Maneuvering carefully around the flame I puffed his face, at once. They now, faced each other.  He stretched his hand to unveil her face, tucking the hair behind her ears. The incidental brush of his fingertips against the earlobe, simmered them, mutually. They stood up in tandem and walked towards the moonbeam that held the roof above and the mattress beneath. On my way out, I snuffed out the flame and pulled the door behind. A storm brewed; Where? I’ll leave that to your discretion to figure out. 

monday morning motivation

Postcards, polaroids or
whatever you captured on your mobile cam.
Miniature mementos, snow globe or whatever you bought at the souvenir store.
Even the rugged backpack, duffel bag or
trolley you lugged along all the way.
Keep them handy, at a glance's distance for mornings like these.
When Mondays bog you down from leaping out of that bed of yours;
Reach for them, these reminders, hoping
you'll collect some more.
Doesn't matter if it's from some place
that's near of far.
But assure yourself this mundane start to a working weekday
is what's cementing the plan for your next holiday.


broad daylight heist


People scurried at their own pace,
while the sun from an unseen corner 
shone so bright, it took a lot of courage 
to even look up and spot it smolder.

Like any other day, today as well;
None had the patience or the time to spare
to observe a heist, transpire.
And in broad daylight let the loot be carried away.

No hints whatsoever left behind, 
except for the sky absolutely blue and clear.
He’d dyed them all pink, sweetened
and sealed those clouds in see-through packs’ clusters.

then and now

Overtime, their conversations
gradually moved up with two cups
filled up to the brim 
and no string in between.

arm twist

In His way, we crisscross,
run in circles,
and sometimes try to cut distances
without inching towards destiny.
With our finite wisdom
we word our prayers
to craftily tweak
His arm or will.
Rambling on,
in vain to be heard;
To His words
we seldom pay any heed.
Messed mediators.
Multiple media.
Yet we fail to read,
what lies in between.

are we there yet?

Guilty as charged 
I've lost count 
of those
that died a slow death;
During those nights
You slipped
Deep into sleep;
And I, lay awake
scrambling around.
Settling the serene chaos,
in order,
You stirred up.
Guilty as charged;
I've lost count 
of those candles
that flickered away, 
questioning the pen on paper,
"Are we there yet?"
And it's during these mornings
you see the alchemy in all its glory.
Unlike Midas, the sun's absolved
of the greed; as it touches
and lets go, every spot its eyes
could reach.

inside joke

From a distance they saw her
enter the store;
One aisle to another
Pacing slowly, a regular customer.
The word spread; Then and there,
scattered, hushed laughter.
She after all had bought and worn
their hand-me-down from last season.
An inside joke quite popular
amongst the mall's mannequins.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

We, the tolerant

These times are such
when we are at our tolerant best.
Dissed? oh never! 
We never ever anger 
at our own plight when someone, 
holds up a mirror.
And the truth is what, 
at any time, 
we swallow;
Allowing those who seamlessly dispense 
their opinions
with gentle caresses and mild strokes.
And criticism? Tch, tch! 
We take it all in 
bearing 
and follow it up with a grin.
Peace, runs white, as a mere colour, 
right between our banner.
We, in these times,
stand up; Of course,
for all that we are not.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

||Some times you go invisible. Camouflaged. 
Blended in so well, you go unnoticed. 
Perhaps, that's when you've become the obvious. 
As they say, just another face; 
For those who have their sights high 
and raging ahead in the race. 
You're just a fleeting glance 
who never gets looked at a second time. 
A shadow leaving behind shallow footprints. 
Discoloured, lacklustre fragment 
that's there as  an object of obligation. 
Until, there comes someone who gives 
you that undivided attention that's rightly due. 
And then, the shade you had clad makes sense. 
The dots connect in hind sight. 
You were grey all the while 
to be found by someone colour-blind.||
Isn’t it weird that there was a time
when you would fearlessly go sock skating;
Undeterred by the possibility of smashing
your face and breaking your teeth
on the glassy yet hard mosaic floor.

And then, there were those days
when you would balance on a chair’s hind legs;
Oblivious to the fact that you could
fall behind or the chair could give way
for you to flip back over and crack your skull.

This, followed by the reckless phase
when you would cycle downhill, hands free;
Ignorant of what could await you around
the bend; Or how some gravel on the tarmac
could skin you while you skid down the road.

Now, in an unsure age
when a pink slip could be the next mail;
Unconfidently, you gait between the water dispenser and corner cubicle.
Sit upright on an ergonomic chair with wheels, immobile; How ironical?!
And how cautiously you ride; slacklining the employment lifecycle.

Friday, February 17, 2017

A Curiosity Shop of Sorts

Fragile, elusive, wrapped in corrugated paper
and placed in apple boxes on the floor.
Fluid, mercurial, bottled carefully,
corked and placed in the top most shelf.
Noxious, dense, barreled
and shelved in the basement.
Brittle, bubble wrapped, cellophane taped
with an extra layer of shrink wrap, tucked into corners.
All these and more, stored in shelves
line up the walls from beneath the floor
up to the ceiling. More so, like an old curiosity shop.
The difference: nothing on display;
No tales, no labels, attested.
And all are password locked.
Passwords being not the usual combination
of a minimum of eight characters in length
with at least one in upper case,
a digit, a symbol and the rest in lower case.
But these, a notch above, the cryptexes
unlock to hints of scents wafting in the breeze,
cues of tunes echoing at a distance
and images chanced upon during second glances.
Tucked away safely in your mind’s warehouse
these Pandora’s containers, in different sizes,
stock curses, charms, benedictions
disguised as memories, which when unlocked
cloud your vision from seeing to tomorrow.