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poem

holding-onLife is like a fast moving train
If you enjoy it,
it will take you places
If you don’t, it will still take you places
though you would never enjoy them

Inside, if you get a seat
you can feel privileged and
relax yourself
But if you are not so fortunate
then hold on to whatever you can
for you will need support
no matter how long this journey
is meant to be for you

These handrails are like
the countless memories
crisscrossing around us
like a safety net

Hold on, if were not privileged enough
You will need that support
when your legs are giving up and
your hands have to take on the weight

But don’t lose heart
for if you are standing
you get to see outside the window and
watch the world go by
even though you mostly see vehicles
Nonetheless, it is wonderful
when there is a nice green patch

When you are underground
there isn’t anything to see outside
but there is some consolation
in standing in the center and looking through
the bogies and watching the train
take the turns like an elegant serpent

Life nowadays is so fast
that sometimes it is only the memories
we make along the way that keep us afloat.

So, hold on.

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IMG_1777Oh Calcutta, you are so old!
So old, your body is crumbling
Looks like you would just fall
You have been standing for so long
You must be tired
You must be shaking

But they won’t let you sit down
They won’t let you take a breath
The moment you start to crumble
They would replace that part of you
With something ugly

They say it’s modern
But they know not what is modern
You have seen modern so many times before
But it wasn’t like today

They know not what you are
They care not what you feel
about what they do to you
If they did they would mend you
When you hurt
Not wait till you crack
They would love you for what you are
and never let you crumble, at the first place

Oh Calcutta, you are so old
It hurts me to see you crumble
I wish i would draw you and
you would heal with the magic of my pen
But i have no magic pen
nor a strong persona

I dream sometimes of how you may have been
So elegant and so sophisticated
So intelligent!
But now you look despondent
You look lovelorn

I want to say i love you
for you are the one who
brought me up to be a man
with a heart
But i myself have left you now
In my search for what i can be

Oh Calcutta, but you still stand proud
You still believe in the seeds
You had sown and
some shall surely grow
and those shall hold you afloat.

IMG_0954a

There is something very endearing
about long shadows
May be it is because of the time
of it’s occurence.

Early mornings, when the whole day,
with all its possibilities, is ahead of you
and evenings, when your day is done and
it is almost time to relax.

It is like taking a deep breath and
stretching yourself to ease.

The seconds move in slow motion
and you start to notice the everyday
in a whole new light.

Suddenly you are so much more aware
of all that surrounds you
Your consciousness expands,
encompassing this new layer
to your reality.

You gather some weight and
descend deeper into
a warm yellow glow fading into
a cool comfortable sleep.

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It is a beautiful winter day
Morning came with extreme chill
as if one, unwilling to let go
of the warmth of the blanket

The day brought in the sun
who has been reluctant
after a long hard toil through summer
sparing only a few hours
from its time off
Thus, the shadows stayed at an incline
It’s like everyone is unwilling
to get off their recliners or beds

The few hours that the sun let off
brought so much cheer
The grass feels fresh
The air crisp and light
The light plays with shadows
in ever so creative forms
The dogs and the drivers
hiding under and inside others cars
in the previous season
are now occupying the best spots

Now the evening is here
and the sun is retreating fast

From my corner
I can see the long shadows
pulling the curtain down
on a beautiful winter day
making me feel desperate
for having missed another chance
to catch a little more warmth
before its cold and dark again.

IMG_0151-0.JPG
There is a crazy rush of
thoughts running from
the beginning of a memory to
It’s end
Running from one end to another
Criss-crossing each other
Rubbing each other
Generating so much friction
Elbowing each other
Hurting me with their entangled inelastic mess
About to tear apart the highways of my brain

They have picked up so much dust
The heat from their friction is picking up a storm
It’s heavy,
It’s so foggy
The pain is slowing me down
The heaviness is pulling me down
I am going down.

Through this fog all I could see
Are these fast moving lights
Blinding white and bloody red

My brain inside is so heavy
It is now dragging to a halt
It is caving in
It is stretching its hands out
To hold on to one of those
white fairies that seem ever so light
that they just fly past me

I am tilting to one side
There is so much weight and
it’s so foggy
I can’t see anymore
I can’t stand anymore
I just want to hold on
to one of those white fairies
Only they seem to be like something
That can drag me out of this pit

My hands are so heavy
It is so close to them, yet so far
My vision is slowly fading away
as it just about manages to hold on
to one of the white fairies flying by
And everything just suddenly
becomes so bright for a moment
and then finally silence.
No rush, no criss-crossing
no friction.

anisha_collageIt hasn’t been too long
But some time
I realised that this feeling of love
has been more of a fascination
than an emotion

You too, fascinated me
with your innocent smile
your southern accent, and
the perfect Patiala you wore that day
You fascinated me with your stories
of growing up, and
your zeal to break the norms
To one day be your own master

But fascination is not love
and I realised it when you would
forget your key at home or
leave the light on

The fascination faded away
when I would arrange and
you would scatter

But as fascination faded away,
I found love

I found love
in the ease of your smile
the innocence in your eyes
the honesty in those cries
in the emotion behind that postcard
in the trust of your embrace
in the absolute joy I could see in you
when you broke into a dance
knowing, we were getting the house painted

So this struggle of mine, to make your portrait
I realise, the fault is all mine
I need to get better in drawing
I’ve got to try a little harder
not be complacent but
humble, rather.