Friday, October 30, 2009

? =

Isn’t it strange how you try to frame a story
Of things you’ve come across?
Of things lived through and gone past.
Those that you remember
When you’re all by yourself.
You borrow them from your past
And hard sell it with waivers
Luring your future to buy them again.
Fix a beginning and an end.
Make people in your life
Play characters and pivotal roles.
Of course, you’re in the lead
While the world, around you, revolves.
Replay classics in the background.
Add a twist to that tale,
And a tinge of humor or tragedy.
Or induce an anti-climax or
A happily-ever-after.
Bring worlds together,
That lay eons away.
Well, now you seem
To be well prepared;
To push the rewind button
Way before I pull down the curtains.
Could you please take a deep breath
And give me a count to ten?
Now that you’re back, simply read on…
Before you know it has begun
And long gone.
You’re a part of it
Whether you like it or don’t.
Memories make great stories.
Some, you tell to yourself
Over and over again to feel good.
And some you try never to return to.
You either pause or skip them
Press fast forward
Till you arrive at a better scene.
But this is something I have always
Pondered upon.
This is for you,
An open ended question.
Do memories contain life
Or is it the other way around?

Thursday, October 22, 2009

stubbed

An old friend returned
And I burnt my lips.
After a long hiatus of fresh air
I have taken a break.
Hopefully, she is here
For a short stay.
An erstwhile companion
In my heydays.
She would reduce to ashes
Just to see me rise.
While we killed time
She played my accomplice.
Tempted me for another tryst
Whenever I would want to quit.
At every rendezvous
I would assure myself
This would be my last.
But the affair, usually, lasted
Much beyond that.
Finally, one New Year’s Eve
We decided to part.
I gave up on her
And said to myself,
This would be the last.
I guess now,
There has been a relapse.
She’s back now
To turn me into a foe.
And this time, like always,
I’m sure it would last.

Monday, October 12, 2009

To Benji Mama - A Tribute

What do I say and what do I skip?
About this mighty giant
Who was approximately five feet.
He had a distinct sense of humor
And a versatile character.
He would race against the wind
On his mean lil Vespa scooter.
He was an avid reader;
With his constant gifts
He turned me too into a booklover.
A musician and a photographer by passion,
My very first Guitar Instructor.
And one of the inspirations
For me to become a lensman.
An all-time movie buff and critic
Mostly, Biblical, historical
And then the Western, Cowboy classics;
With a flair for good music,
He introduced us to all the greatest hits.
A Gadget Guru, a Know-it-all.
Our family’s very own Santa Claus
Who traded gifts for our smiles
And not any milk and cookies.
Every December he ushered the Season’s greetings
Along with his fellow carolers and his six strings.
He also played in harmony
To those who sought the eternal sleep.
He was a warrior to his last breath.
He fought persistently without ever losing hope.
What do I say and what do I skip?
About this mighty giant
Over whose shoulders we stood
And saw the world when we were kids.


Without you, our dearest, Benji Mama;
No Christmas would ever be the same.