Tuesday, September 01, 2009

The Little Doll

There was once a little doll,
with looks so cozy.
She had a cuddly crawl,
and cheeks so rosy.

She was my little doll,
my whole life's worth.
Such was my little doll,
my whole new birth.

I was her tune,
and she was my dance.
We lived a boon,
loving the trance.

Now,I live my life,
and she loves hers.
Lost was the life,
which used to be ours.

There was a little doll,
and my memory ain't lousy.
Now there's a subtle wall,
and my dream's so drowsy.

Well!In your well-known world,
a little doll cried.
But,in my unknown world,
a little doll died.

P.S 1: This is a poetic response to the yesteryear blockbuster The Little Doll and the goldwinner The Little Doll.

P.S 2: All characters in the poem are purely fictional. Any resemblance to any person or a doll, living or otherwise, is purely kakataliyam a k a coincidental. This is for a creative writing assignment which was supposed to a) Start with "There was once a little doll" and b) End with "A little doll cried. A little doll died"

Friday, July 03, 2009

One of those idle moments

---when you know that you are insane.

Disclaimer: All these things are based on a true life story. Or else, I made them up in this apparently true life of mine just for the heck of writing this disclaimer.

It was one of those times when I missed being in India. I was all alone amongst a group of quiet, cultured, polite, but German passengers. Nothing for stereotyping ethnicities, but most of them belong to not just a different wave length but to a different planet in a different solar system. Outside my office, till date, I could not make meaningful English conversation with them any better than I could have played carroms with a cat. The sum total of the response I could get from them is “Huh!”

So, I was trying to relax in these retractable chairs, that never tract enough to start with. My novel seemed to be in the deepest strata of my backpack, and realizing my secrets would not gel into the ambience, I refrained myself from digging into it. I was moving ahead in life at 220 kmph, falling into a trance where all those little earthy, lotta fun, sophomoric musings pretended to give me a better perspective over all facets of life including the historical, the sociological, the zoological, the psychosexual and the facet that explains why Jadeja came before Yuvraj.

I tried reading my English news paper, carefully staring at the political intricacies of the Indira regime, and making a mental note of the interesting observations (Yawn!! was my exact mental phrasing). I tried spacing my legs in the leg space and struggled to doze off unto my dreamland, in the quest of answers to why proteins irk Brahmins?And why law needs to be taught in IITs?

Just as my insomniac brain was shifting from humming impatiently to brain teaser activities like trying to convert the complete works of Albert Einstein into caribbean rap, I acted. I acted in a manner, where my finger dug itself onto my scalp and started dancing to the whims of the strongest force in the world . Having had to face the harsh realization that I was yet to bathe that month,(let's say I am kidding for all practical purposes), I decided to start being more purposeful. Then! I heard a voice from above.

No, I am not kidding. It was melodious gibberish, being delivered from an altitude in a deliberate attempt to tip me off about the future. Then, feeling blessed, I opened my eyes to follow the voice, only to find an announcement speaker, emitting amplified garbage that translated to “ Next station: M√ľnchen Hauptbahnof”. I reiterated my idea to be purposeful.

I started towards the door. In a citi-moment-of-surprise, people started following me. As I reached the final passage, I stopped ,and turned backwards. My belly flipped at the sight of all the confusion, the angst and the uncertainty they harbored about their troubled future. I smiled reassuringly at the Spanish girl behind me and nodded, as I chose the path to the right door.

For a few moments, the crowd was stunned. They were gaping at the courageous man who was going to make a difference in their future. A guy at the end could no longer remain silent. He was deeply moved. He came forward to voice it. “Boo!”, he said.(literally, whatever he said in german).

They followed me, all of them, 12 cosmopolitan citizens, looking at the poor door on the left, thinking “O poor thing! It never stood a chance!”, in their own languages. But the 13th guy was German, so he looked at the left door with a deeply troubled conscience, turned towards me and asked “Boo?” I smiled. I gave him one of those Rajni-special sinister smiles that say “I dare you to take the other path”. He raised his hands, shrugged a bit and surrendered as he joined my path, not forgetting to voice his “Boo!” again.

I stood there, taking deep breaths, feeling empowered.

Voice-in-my head: You rock! You are a keen observer of the daily human experience.

Sanity: Duh!!

Voice-in-my head: You are a chronicler of mankind’s seemingly endless trek through time.

Sanity: Aaarggh!!

German: Boo!!

Voice-in-my head: You know something that your delta-neighborhood does not! Look at yourself through their eyes! Are you not their shining beacon of hope?

Sanity: Come out of the trance, you stupid!!!

I felt superior to all those sages in Himalayas, who conveniently suppress the fact that they never tasted the biryani in Bawarchi, as they pitifully make the ridiculous claim of knowing the meaning of life. I had all reasons to. I tasted their biryani , AND, could guess which side the platform was going to turn up.

Then the station arrived.( OK! You smarty! The train arrived at the station) I felt divine. I felt complete. I felt like the harbinger of human hope. I felt like Sachin Tendulkar.


Thursday, April 16, 2009

I really want the title to be...

.....Erm.Straight from Uday Aghamarshan B.

Girl! Things we-now-not even think of,
will come back to haunt at the brink of,
the inevitable saturation,
of years of frustration,
Ah! Those things we'd not even think of.

Why don't you paint? Why don't you? Why?
You love your art as much as I,
But I'm a nerd,
O! That's absurd,
Concocted stories made up a lie.

Voices in heart,too loud to be ignored,
Hands of art,are really really bored,
They wanna run,
Why?Possibly stun,
and leave every lover of art floored.

And thus locked in the boredom,
of deathless assignments in tandem,
Thoughts deeply fried,
she threw Gottfried,
And started to fetch her freedom.

O! Behold my friend!Nothing serious I guess,
You're learning a lot amidst this duress,
Oh! Friend of mine,
you really are fine,
I thought I'll just pull your leg. Yes!

Updating duly,
Yours truly.

Monday, March 23, 2009

No! We can't stand it anymore!

Cornered by the vile unkindness
of people drowned in callous blindness,
A soul left,
this world bereft,
of love, solace and mother's kindness.

The diro appreciated the gathering,
while DD's smile was so baffling,
11:30||gtg||my wife,
Left Dosa,fled for life,
Buffoons with their porcine clowning.

These rockhearted chickenshits
feigning all their ugly wits,
deserved the fate,
as it's too late,
to enact their goddamned skits.

We've long waited and trembled near the door,
Now!We can't stand the stench anymore,
These convulsive shocks,
will rip hills and rocks,
No!We can't stand it anymore.

May his soul rest in peace! :'(