Just a thought

It is but natural that a native would be more acquainted with the nuances of his or her own language. Translating the thought into a language that you are familiar with but not rooted in often results in what I would call ‘grammar casualties.’ In India, English is one such language which is repeatedly raped and mutilated by the multitudes. Definitely not an offence, but in the global scenario, especially when we are talking of business documents that are not restricted to the Indian sub-continent, the least you can expect is a wee bit of basic knowledge of grammar. Religiously reading an Amish may not necessarily solve the intrinsic issue of dialectic differences and logical nitty-gritty of language. The mother or the parent from which respective languages have perpetrated from plays a vital role in determining common mistakes; those whose mother-tongues have diverged from Sanskrit can learn or pick up the logic in languages with a similar origin but English is rooted in a million tongues – Briton, Anglo-Saxon, Hebrew and even Indian. How many of us have ever bothered to read the origin of a word in an English dictionary; and if we have, words like ‘gherao’, that now feature in the Oxford English dictionary may have definitely caught our attention. A language which is as flexible as English would be customized and localized – so what initially begins as pidgin English slowly evolves to a more robust form, like it has in India. Given the Indian fascination with formality in written language the tone is generally not colloquial; and the lengthy convoluted sentences send out a loud and clear message that it is an Indian author.  

Poor Little Girl

I am a poor little girl,

A very poor little girl,

Struggling with her emotions,

Trying to hoard them in herself,

I cry aloud

And I laugh hysterically

I am just this poor little girl

That everyone calls a friend.

I wish I could undo many a thing

Make life a little less satiric

But the irony of it all

Is,

I am a poor little girl,

Trying to hoard my emotions in myself

I cry when someone else is hurt,

I laugh with another in his joy

I wish I could live life free

Of all my silliness

And never again be called

“This poor little girl”

Hoarding emotions within!

In all these years with grey hairs blinking at me

I still am a poor little girl

Trying to hoard her emotions

And not wiser still!

So I am angry and hurt,

When someone’s so curt...

I only wish I could be a little more inert

I’d never then have to taste dirt,

I am a poor little girl for you...

But the more you mock me...

The more I know

It is not because I am this poor little girl

But because it does not matter

When you never flatter

Me...

I am happy because

No one can ever be

Simple and soothing

Like this poor little girl can be!

And I know you call me a poor little girl

Hiding behind my emotions

And blaming them on me

There will be a time 

When I'd not be the garb to cover 

What you feel

When you will be all alone 

Facing your emotions

And wanting to share it with the

Poor little girl me...

And I'd say:

Poor little boy you!

Life after marriage!

It was all dream and fantasy:

The fairy tale love

The ever after.

And now I know why

All fairy tales end

The way they do,

Because when you tie the knot

Love becomes a not

And everything comes tumbling thereafter.

Your little hopes,

Your wishes,

Your dreams,

For all that is there:

Are angry words

Screams

And bitter days ahead.

You cannot walk-out;

You cannot walk-away;

You cannot walk;

You cannot talk!

Paralyzed and hurt

You lie,

And bear with it

Till the day you die!

If you dare,

Then you’ll be alone,

For they’d cite all social causes,

And there are always the emotional clauses;

And every day you’d wish you could rewind

Go back in time and say the ‘no.’

That ‘no’ that would have given you the joy you always had;

The ‘no’ that would have never dried your smile;

The ‘no’ that would have made life worthwhile!

But truth is,

You were fooled by those fairy tales,

And now you know not whom to blame,

You’re now part of this game,

And it’s a shame!

So you breathe

Not live,

And wait to live another fantasy,

But only in hope,

(Or in dope)

And it’s not going to be easy!

Our First Anniversary

Little by little we've been building this nest
Each new day a new calamity brings
And each time a twig slips off
And you go looking for some more
That will bind our home together
Give it strength in all ways possible
But like a little fledgling I keep looking for motherly warmth
And shedding all inhibitions you play both partner and parent
Giving in to my tantrums
But never giving up on me!
Seven long years we waited
To finally take the vow
And all along the experience of love was for me
The teenage exuberance and wow
You lived through it and grew with me
But when in time you outgrew me
Both in terms of love and maturity
The finer subtler essence of love
That I can only feel through you
And see in your eyes
I have so many questions
And there are so many lies
I want answers to some simple puzzles
And each time you smile
And when I look into your eyes
They say but one thing
"Love you are a child"-
A wild wild child
Full of love and full of faith
And a belief that I am you and
You, me!

Some talk...

We are the progenies of Prufrock

Living and partly living

Pursuing our dreams

And like a dreamer dying on the streets

Hungry and diseased.

But even when we shun those very visions

We lived for

We are starved

Of happiness, creativity and freedom,

Of being our very own

Whether you bang on the doors of your

Fractured intellect,

Or hunt for money,

You are still one among the many,

Hungry for more

Evermore

We would walk the parties

On a cocktail night

This time talking of

Oracles and miracles

Of the niche we call

Society.

In fashion, what is in

What is out,

Never mind

What you think,

And who cares

What’s it all about…

You just talk

And let them know

You are kin

To some Di Caprio!

Back home you surf the net

Find out who was it

You talked to

And who was it you met!

We still are patients,

And patiently we walk the

Mundane way,

From the Blue Mondays

To the welcome Fridays,

Swaying to the jazz

Of nothingness

Critiquing

Criticizing

But participating,

Nonetheless.

We are foolproof,

Or so we think,

We are fools

And there is proof

And that is true.

This way my friends,

That’s the gate of my house,

But I’m still looking for a home

To live.

I don’t like the nasty looks,

So it’s okay that I have spent,

A bit too much on the rent…

Good night then,

Meet you again,

On my way

To discuss life,

And share our views

Talk of this and talk of that

Who is thin and who is fat

What is good and what is bad

And I agree it is fun

So that’s it then.

Done.

Once More Let us Live...

Breed of Adam
Breed of Eve
You know not where you are heading,
Nor what you are worth,
Sitting here at the threshold of
Being and not being
Mechanical robots,
An aberration of His Divine intention
Starved of happiness
Deprived of creativity,
Thirsty you roam from door to door
Asking for a drop to quench
That greed
Hungry and palsied
Diseased breed of our forefathers
Running after a vision
Far removed from joy and fulfillment.
Crawling creatures throng your rooms,
Serpentine lovers woo you
And you stand and stare
As if in a trance,
No more than a zombie.
Breed of Adam
Breed of Eve,
My brothers
My sisters,
The vision is ghastly,
Broken images
Shattered dreams
We are still traveling
Where no roads meet
Rocky, infertile, land of illusion
Everything a mirage,
Fooling and convincing each of us
Of a better life
Where utopic wonders spring forth
Phoenix-like from your sweat
Fellow beings pause and ponder
Feel your being
You have been
Taunted into becoming just another ‘number’
Now it’s time,
Let us build Eden again…
Once again let us dream…

The Realization

It is in this hour that memories tangle with desire,
Here at the threshold where life begins anew,
I can still sense the whiff of despair.
Why is it that one bond is the severing of another?
They would say philosophical stuff,
I care not for,
In words you can put many a thing
But in deed,
It is not possible indeed.
I have waited every hour
Staring at the starlit ceiling,
Wondering how the beauties of life
And nature,
Have become an artificial thing...
There is pain in having,
There is pain in disowning,
There is pain even in knowing,
Happiness flickers through this pain,
Or is it,
This pain is so intense,
It is pleasure, surpassing the limitations of happiness
Rejuvenating and reviving us,
Teaching us each day,
A new doctrine of life...
Leaving behind the trails of our deeds
Like a precedence.
This is it then
This is life
This is love
This is...