Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Anthem of the lost and the bewildered.


Have feet, will dance.
Have faith, will take a chance.
Have hands, will gesticulate.
Have a mind, will articulate.
Have demons, will fear.
Have doubts, everytime you come near.
Have hope, will dare to give up.
Have madness, will live it up.
Have emotional baggage, will do prozac.
Have self-will, will never look back.
Have sarcasm, will not please.
Have frustrations, will release.
Have insanity, will prevail.
Have revolution, will derail.
Have a mouth, will voice.
Have freedom, will make a choice.
Have shadows, will shame.
Have wild, will be game.
Have sensation, will pleasure.
Have desire, will leisure.
Have targets, will fail.
Have random, will scale.
Have kismet, will do fate.
Have patience, will wait.
Have spunk, will agitate.
Have decadence, will deviate.
Have religion, will prostrate.
Have guts, will enervate.
Have thunder, will rain.
Have human, will pain.
Have greed, will gain.
Have kindness, will shame.
Have stupor, will withdraw.
Have skin, will be raw.
Have senses, will smell.
Have attitude, will be swell.
Have intellect, will revolt.
Have lightening, will jolt.
Have time, will waste.
Have no time, will haste.
Have history, will repeat.
Have ambition, will cheat.
Have mystery, will seduce.
Have volition, will refuse.
Have sloth, will decay.
Have a heart, will pray.
Have solace, will share.
Have no shame, will bare.
Have vice, will regret.
Have enough courage, will forget.
Have duty, will be bound.
Have music, will have sound.
Have the right, will understand.
Have the falls, but will stand.
Have the forest, will run wild.
Have the mother, will be the child.
Have pathology, will decompose.
Have a song, will compose.
Have avarice, will betray.
Have karma, will pay.

Have it all, will fritter away.
Have a home, so will come back anyway.
Have feet in the air, will have solid ground.
Have lost and bewildered, will be found.

Scary and Damaged

I don’t talk. I snap. So what you gonna do?
I misunderstand everything that's said to me. That's my job. How can you expect me not to do my job?
My hero is Sylvia Plath. I like the way Janis Joplin always looks like she’s nursing a bad hangover. I can understand why Kurt Cobain grabbed and an out. I can deal with the fact that Axl Rose was so angry he lost his edge.
I’m not going to apologize. Because that’s not what I do. What I can do however is beat the crap out of your delusions – if you’ll let me. I’m good at that. Very good.
I can see a sociopath right in the eye and explain him is misdemeanour and still not let him feel judged. I can feel at ease with selfish, insecure, commitment phobic people because honestly people, they’re real.
I can try to pretend I care. And I do that well. But I can never patch up the cracks; the cracks in the veneer of oh the most plebeian, people pleasing conviviality. Seriously, I’m not in the least the bag of sunshine that’ll make your day.
That’s just not who I am.

I can help you deal with your mistakes – the darkest, most bad ass mistakes. Because seriously, there is nothing to deal with there. All I’ll tell you is that you’ll make them again. So just try not killing yourself while you’re at it. Because however crappy this whole business of living is, it’s still better than being dead. Because the dead don’t breathe and personally, I think breathing is pretty darned good. It’s one of the good things about being alive. So I’ll tell you – breathe.
Everyone makes mistakes. Some people spend their lives hiding theirs, others, they just shrug and learn to live with theirs.

If you’re looking to kick yourself in the gut so bad it hurts. I can help you with that. I despise people who don’t know how to do that. I like to believe that sooner than later everyone has their dog-day. When that day arrives, it’s good if you’ve had your share of practise.

I try not believe too much. And not hope too much. I can paint love so dark it looks like misery and happiness and I are on continuous outs. I don’t like anything that is build to comfort people into a nauseous state of oblivion where they forget they’re just people who’re running around in a random circus of subjective reality – one where the most potent of all cosmic crimes against humanity – ‘pain/suffering’ is as random as an eighteen wheeler losing control and hitting your midsection with the bang of creation ringing in your head trying to remind you – we’re all random. So deal with that.

One of these days I am really going to have to accept it. I have issues. Maybe my issues are self created. Because I can find nothing wrong with my family history. Or maybe I like to repress that as well.
Who knows? But as long as you do not show me how you need to throw a fit every day to let out your steam; and shrink me and tell me whining is good for the spinal fluid – I’m going to ignore you. Please let me ignore you. Because ignoring you is good for me. Almost healthy.
You and I are not the same. You believe talking is good. I believe repressing the only sane way to survive. You’re a bright, hopeful young thing who has relationship, work troubles. I just have dysfunctions.
Dysfunctions don’t go with talking. Your troubles might.
So stay away from me. I don’t do the talking. I don’t like the talking. And I definitely don’t like hearing you do yours.
Repress, and move on.

I brood. I like my brooding. My brooding is my job. And I do it well.
And all you happy people can keep your pathetic nods and fake understanding purrs inside your halo and walk away.
Because people like you need people like me.
If it weren’t for people like me, people like you would never be happy. Because I am the reminder of all those things that make you grab at your purses and stuff them with half a dozen bits and scraps of custom designed smiles that reek of botox.
I mean it, I like my brooding.

Probably, in the scheme of random things – you were the planned one. And someone like me was a mishap.
But even when you will refuse to admit it, accidents happen all the time too. Just like you.
So in a strange levelling way, we’re equals. You and I have nothing to compete for, or about.
I don’t care about who and what you are. So here’s wishing you will stop attempting at judging me so much.
Because you can’t compete with an accident. Somethings are always more equal.
No go deal with it. 

My Political Facts and Questions

These are my political facts and questions.

I suppose I am quasi political. I’m a reasonable iconoclast. I believe in breaking rules not because that’s ‘hip’ and makes me look ‘cool’; but because I think some rules are like myths and if not broken, there is the danger of them perpetuating into facts. Like Napoleon Bonaparte once famously said, ‘History is myths agreed upon.’

Therefore, what I do believe is that – I have opinions. And that opinions need to be stated.

I had a little discussion (rather short) with someone on here on this site. How she was condemning and mourning the ‘atrocities’ that were being meted out to the Palestinians in Gaza; and how she was aghast at the ‘barbaric’ nature of Israelis who were milking their favourable position as a young, rebellious child nation of this century, a hot favourite of the powers to be – massacring their weaker nemesis in a manner that their death toll just crossed the one thousand mark.

Let’s just say that war, is bloodied by its very nature. And that war of any sort, results in agony, brutality and grief for both parties, and that’s not rocket science.

But the important question is – Why did someone have to go to war at all? Is war a thrill the strong like to indulge in, or it born like everything else, out of necessity?

I’m by inclination Pro-Israel. That’s clear. Too much, oh too much have we of this generation, at least of the curious bend of mind have read, heard and processed of what has been the great iniquity to have befallen the human race in recent times – the Holocaust. And how did we ever wonder that the scratching sounds of hapless victims being roasted alive in ovens of Buchenwald and Auschwitz might not haunt the generations to come, in more petrifying manners than one – is beyond my ability to understand.

Recently I cried all over again when I read the (ghastly) personal memoirs of a concentration camp victim turned Nobel Prize winner Jewish writer, Elie Wiesel (of the ‘Night’ fame), who says, ‘In my lifetime if I had to write only one book, this would be the one.’

A slim volume of barely 120 pages, but one so harrowing that it took me three days to be able to read it in parts, and never full; for those who can ‘imagine’, and let that imagination overcome their senses in a way that the stench of burning flesh wafts across decades, and travels up the nostrils in a nausea inducing sickness - this wasn’t a book meant for the faint hearted.

To have witnessed such human depravity in imagination, I don’t want to imagine a world where an evil of this magnitude had come to pass for real.

Jewish persecution was for real – it’s not a ‘myth agreed upon history’ but one that I fervently wish was. To turn a son in to a feeble caricature of his previous self, only a mysteriously, evilly savage concentration/death camp could have done that - such that he angered upon his dying, choleric father – why the father had to moan and make petulant noises – calling out for his son, thus provoking the bloodied Nazis into a fit of slothful fury, and leading to his inevitable death by being crushed under the blows of merciless boots – and, the danger of being exposed to the famous Nazi wrath - for his son – ‘haunted’ just got itself a new dimension.

It’s clearly established that the Holocaust was for real. The scars of the most vicious evil meted out to a people, barely seventy years ago have faded, but not enough to not leave imprints on the conduct of the generations that will follow.

Their Biblical claims aside, the Jews of the world needed a home. Israel belonged to them as much as it belonged to the Arabs, who as Muslims came much later than the Jews. Just because tomorrow there are more Muslims in India, that doesn’t mean that India will stop belonging to the Hindus. As descendants of the Aryans, (damn the word) India belongs to the Hindus by birth. That we are predisposed to co-exist is another ball game altogether. Please don’t call me ‘saffron’, I’m not. I’m just being most naturally logical.

By exacting accurate Roman census the occupants/residents/owners of the land South of Beirut, East of the Jordan past Philadelphia and Aman, South through the desert to Duba and East to Tabuk, and West across the Sinai were over 90% Hebrew in faith, and over 75% Hebrew in their tribal/family origin. This was for over two millennium before Saladin sacked Jerusalem.
It’s amazing to me that so called educated people can accept 1300+years of Muslim War/violence/Slavery & Terror. In 1946 British Palestine was about 50/50 Jew and Arab. When hostilities were imminent the Israelis offered the Arabs money to stay, the Egyptians offered more money to move out, with the promise of "why have half, move out, we will destroy them, and you will have it all".

(Source – cbsnews.com user)

In 1948 the young state of Israel was born – it was besieged by the Arabs from all sides, but fresh wounds flared and their retribution was swift. Surrounded by enemies who refused to accept its sovereignty on all sides, and, by the sea on the one that was left – the most popular belief in the Arab world was, and still is I’m afraid, to ‘Push Israel into the Sea,’ - the collaborative effort of Egypt, Syria, Jordan; with troops pitched in by Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Tunisia, Morocco and Algeria, the Israelis won the six days war in 1967 due to their skill at pre-emptive strike and superior Military co-ordination and control. At the war's end, Israel had gained control of the Sinai Peninsula, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights. The results of the war affect the geopolitics of the region to this day.

The 1982 Lebanon War, called by Israel the Operation Peace of the Galilee, and later colloquially also known in Israel as the First Lebanon War, began on 6 June 1982, when the Israel Defense Forces invaded southern Lebanon. The Government of Israel ordered the invasion as a response to the assassination attempt against Israel's ambassador to the United Kingdom, Shlomo Argov, by the Abu Nidal Organization.

After attacking the PLO, as well as Syrian and Muslim Lebanese forces, Israel occupied southern Lebanon. Surrounded in West Beirut and subjected to heavy bombardment, the PLO and the Syrian forces negotiated passage from Lebanon with the aid of international peacekeepers.

The Oslo Accords, officially called the Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government Arrangements or Declaration of Principles (DOP) was a milestone in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It was the first direct, face-to-face agreement between Israel and political representatives of Palestinians. It was intended to be a framework for the future relations between Israel and the anticipated Palestinian state, when all outstanding final status issues between the two states would be addressed and resolved in one agreement.

The Accords were finalized in Oslo, Norway on 20 August 1993, and subsequently officially signed at a public ceremony in Washington D.C. on 13 September 1993, with Yasser Arafat signing for the Palestine Liberation Organization and Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin signing for the State of Israel. It was witnessed by Warren Christopher for the United States and Andrei Kozyrev for Russia, in the presence of US President Bill Clinton.

The Oslo Accords were a framework for the future relations between the two parties. The Accords provided for the creation of a Palestinian Authority. The Palestinian Authority would have responsibility for the administration of the territory under its control. The Accords also called for the withdrawal of the Israel Defence Forces from parts of the Gaza Strip and West Bank.

The 2006 Lebanon War, known in Lebanon as the July War and in Israel as the Second Lebanon War was a 33-day military conflict in Lebanon and northern Israel. The principal parties were Hezbollah paramilitary forces and the Israeli military. The conflict started on 12 July 2006, and continued until a United Nations-brokered ceasefire went into effect in the morning on 14 August 2006, though it formally ended on 8 September 2006 when Israel lifted its naval blockade of Lebanon.

The conflict began when Hezbollah militants purposely fired rockets at Israeli border towns as a diversion for an anti-tank missile attack on two armoured Humvees patrolling the Israeli side of the border fence. Of the seven Israeli soldiers in the two jeeps, two were wounded, three were killed, and two were kidnapped and taken to Lebanon. Five more were killed in a failed Israeli rescue attempt. Israel responded with massive airstrikes and artillery fire on targets in Lebanon that damaged Lebanese civilian infrastructure, including Beirut's Rafic Hariri International Airport (which Israel alleged that Hezbollah used to import weapons and supplies), an air and naval blockade, and a ground invasion of southern Lebanon. Hezbollah then launched more rockets into northern Israel and engaged the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) in guerrilla warfare from hardened positions.

The conflict killed over a thousand people, mostly Lebanese civilians, severely damaged Lebanese civil infrastructure, and displaced approximately one million Lebanese and 300,000–500,000 Israelis, although most were able to return to their homes. After the ceasefire, some parts of Southern Lebanon remained uninhabitable due to Israeli unexploded cluster bomblets.

But things have been going downhill ever since, and the Oslo Accords have fallen out of favour with both the Israeli people as well as the Palestinians. At some junctures, Israel is even blamed to have flagrantly disregarded the tenets of the Oslo accords, so on and so forth.

Now, we’re facing a situation where an imminent war like crisis is assailing Middle East yet again and so far over four thousand Palestinian civilians have already been brutally, and let me emphasis, BRUTALLY assaulted by Israelis who in my personal opinion have learnt well from an Old Jew of Venice, who infamously remarked something about –

‘Still have I borne it with an ancient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.’

And, ‘Because Jewish people have to put up with things and that is what distinguishes us,’

And, ‘I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases,
heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter
and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If
you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?
And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the
rest, we will resemble you in that.’

Courtesy, the Bard of all times, going on to show that the common prejudice against Jews is as old as civilization itself, God knows why.

Now that they have the – technology, a resilient army, one of the most sophisticated and swift Para-military/military retribution systems in the world, they are the monsters; frankly we’ve all created over the span of two thousand years and more. Welcome home Frankenstein!

Now, 1300 year of aggression upon the Jews and the constant petulant behaviour of the Arabs and an assortment of their terrorist like outfits is no problem with some folks; but a strike to stop rocket attacks is intolerable. People, that prejudiced are dangerous; when rockets start landing in one’s own backyards then I suppose one no longer care about rights of others and specifically, *human* rights.

What I would really like know is what were the ‘Human rights watch’ (crying hoarse now that they’re banned by Israel to enter the war torn area) – were doing when Hamas were launching rockets at the Israeli civilians?

Anyway. Truth is that some people believe that Hamas and their like – are the chosen Democratic government of the people of Palestine. That they build houses, roads, provide medical aid etcetera to their people and are something akin to ‘freedom fighters’ for the Palestinian people; and that one should refrain from being misled by the airbrushed western media whore that’s trying to sully the image of these freedom fighters who want nothing less than sovereignty for Palestine, and its rights etc back.

I do understand that people have harboured stranger point of views, but I will *never* subscribe to the belief that Lashkar-e-toiba, that functions un-banned in Lahore and may be funding a flight of Madarsas; and imparting zealot like training camp education to misled youth (who later conduct siege attacks on another country’s financial capital) – they might be highly religious and may be attached with ideals that are often identified with ‘freedom fighters’; kill me, but to me they are good ‘ole terrorists and a nice rocket attack on their headquarters might make my day like nothing else.

Let’s face the facts: Hamas are terrorists in the conventional sense. That they have won the majority and are democratically elected, it well goes on to show how twisted things can get in today’s world. Another example of such is – Indian politics. The less said about its state of affairs, the better it is.

It is well established that the Hamas are not really doing much for a common Palestinian who is still languishing in refugee camps. Hamas’s war with Israel is personal, and very, mostly political in nature. No one’s anyone’s freedom fighter here. And that’s that.

According to latest news, Israel (cabinet) is even pitching to vote for a cease fire in Gaza, in an initiative/process initiated by Egypt:

The truce would begin a phased process in which Israel stops the assault and gauges the reaction from Hamas militants, according to the official. Israel would resume the offensive if the militants continue to fire rockets.

Under the deal, Egypt would shut down weapons smuggling routes with international help, and discussions on the opening of Gaza's blockaded border crossings would take place at a later date.

But a senior Hamas official says Palestinians will continue to fight. Sami Abu Zuhri also says Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas is not authorized to represent Hamas in any peace talks. He says "we will continue fighting despite our limited means." Zuhri was speaking at a news conference Saturday in Istanbul as fighting continues between Israeli forces and Hamas militants in Gaza.

Well, what can one say? So much for peace for the people of Palestine. The shells will fly and the bullets will rain away.



Apart from this, an event that grossly bothered me was the use of White Phosphorus by Israeli Military on the refugee camps on Gaza. It was reported that almost ten victims were reported to be suffering from burns which are caused by the above chemical-weapon like material which causes a sort of burn where the skin peels down to the bones. The human right watch mongers were crying hoarse but quite frankly I think they’re the most biased lot. But that does not mean I condone Israel’s action – definitely NOT one like this.

In any sort of war, I think any nation, and that’s ANY nation should conscientiously follow the International Geneva Protocols on Weapon use. Really, use the sub machine guns, and tanks and rockets etc – let’s all keep away from the *C* and *N* word. And it’s best for all of us if we do. It doesn’t really matter if you aren’t a signatory to the third protocol and if you don’t consider White Phosphorus as a chemical weapon; with the sort of after effects one sees when a material like that is used on *civilians* - it IS chemical warfare. And damn the US for using it in Iraq. That’s a show of provoked offensive and unabashed superiority trip. I think it sucks that Israel did that. No excuses are good enough.

I suppose the generation of Israelis who sported the ‘Concentration camps numbers’; lifted in compassion and steeped in self defence but in a humbled way, is giving way to a generation that is tripping on its rebel rogue nation child status. Well, I think that might be the start of the end of Israel. They need to do a reality check as well to make note of the fact that they were more sinned against the sinning and they should never let go of their superior moral majority over the world by becoming, and ever becoming transgressors of the sort where they will be culpable of such crimes as were once committed against them.

The incidences quotes by the Media where the Israeli soldiers showed the lowest levels of consideration (I suppose that’s oxymoron-ish in nature, compassion-in-war), with stories spilling the pages where they kept parents of a dead, half eaten four year old Palestinian girl away from her body by shelling for four days – gross.

People forget their own histories easy.

In this – the people of Palestine have my compassion. The Israelis must begin to start remembering that they are not infallible. That they have the might, the system, the will and the means – but then I think one should never forget. I don’t think Israel is guilty of any crime except these sporadic incidences of organized cruelties upon civilian war refugees.



War’s only boundary is the next place of attack, someone said. The play of bullet spray in Middle East is common. They will initiate a peace process now and after a six month vicious wait, another round of a mini war would follow. Quite hopeless if you ask me. And for all the people who like to sit and pass judgement on the one’s who have to face this fire day in and night out, I would suggest they should first dispense with their voyeur like thrills, peace might follow shortly, or there is always the option of complete annihilation.

I do have a propensity for Israel, but if I’d pray, I do it for Israel and its enemies. Because Israel is nothing, but people, and so are its enemies. Who I do hope are razed to ground, completely destroyed are the liked of Hamas and the sort who killed, maimed, orphaned and terrorized in Mumbai last year.

Let them face the wrath of Israel. I’d cheer on.

May God bless you all and Israel. Although I believe it's obvious that he has.

Shalom :-)

Not Guilty


Please don’t love – you can burn in your hate
I’m just a little pissed off at my ill timed fate
Framed like sickening reminders
All your fake-standing tall(s)
It’s never going to happen – guilt
It’s the writing on the wall

Guilt – free – my wild side
I’m just used to my defiled side
Statistically – I’m so over
Always return to my uncivilized side

Are you sorry?
Do you burn?
Reproved, rebuked
I’m habitually - disapproved
My ears so plugged
Fix me my drip – I’m better off drugged

Silently patient eyes
Daring - but bleak eyes
Always watching – the freak’s eyes
Building me my guilt trip
Clawing at me – their death grip

Loud voices – conspiring to frame
Pretentious voices – plotting to tame
Building me my guilt cage
Freak eyes – harbor, silent rage

Guilt – free – I’m bedazzled
I’m twisted, frayed – so frazzled
Dumping my emotional scores
Plaintive cries for guilt – now bore
My wild impromptu defiled side
Careless and wanton - beguiled side

 Lump your guilt
I’m going to live off my uncivilized side

While you’re busy faking your standing tall(s)
Not Guilty – That’s my writing on the wall

About Her


Her logic is intimidating. But her insanities, breathtaking.
Her kindness is a relief. But her anger, intoxicating.
Her honesty is a celebration. But her lies, serenading.
Her hell raising is loud. But her silences, reverberating.
Her adultness is remarkable. But her innocence, heartbreaking.


Her happiness soothes. But her sadness broods.
Her realities are daunting, but her myths scald.
Her prosperity blooms. But her barrenness is fundamental.
Her guilelessness is endearing. But her charades tempt.
Silly, wild, in control, out of control, her secrets unkempt.


Her wretchedness is amusing. Her aloofness, a shrapnel.
Her prayers are heartfelt. Her insults, just natural.
Her relief is satiated, her hunger palpitating.
Her lies are simple, her truths, calculating.
Ambitious, stark, alone, aloof - loving every bit of the hating.


Her temptations are rewarding. But, her deprivations, tragical.
Her proximities are bewildering. But her distances, magical.
Her anger is complicated. But her indifference is radical.
Her simplicity is a prevarication. But her apprehensions, a delight.
Flame outrageous, burning bright, turned to ashes by her own spite.

No Dispute.


I look effing beautiful.
No dispute.
I feel like an over dressed Barbie.
No dispute.

I am going to call you. I’m going to face it. I’m marrying an effing adorable guy. No dispute.
But all I end up doing is thinking about you.
No dispute.

You are so sorry. You have skinned your bones grovelling. You have been a classic case of effing bastard. No dispute.
You the last guy on the planet who deserves a girl like me, you’re good when you’re a toy boy, you’re perfect when you’re an off and on lover, you have no soul. No dispute.
But you still call and look for chances. You think, like things, even people can change.
There is always a chance.
No dispute.

So I am going to call you.
Thirty minutes into my marriage vows weaving a thick garland of roses around my neck and my old life snapping shut like the doors of present in the face of an intruding wayward past.
I need a chance more for me than you.
No dispute.

‘Twenty five minutes, is all you have,’ I say softly into the phone, ‘that is all you have. Or, I’m gone.’ I tell you.
‘Come and get me. Come and get me out. But twenty five minutes. Only. You know I mean it.’
You know that tone. You heard it the last time when I walked out on you. You heard when I refused you forgiveness.
Do you remember what you did?
I remember.
One cannot help but remembering – good, bad, the ugly, the treachery.
The power play, the lust, the dying embers, the vestiges of love.

I walk out in to the sunshine.
Yellow and orange shine on my skin like sun rays galloping, freewheeling - somersaulting on my brown skin.
I refused to cover my head. It is my marriage. Why should I cover my head?
I want my hair naked. Shiny, black, shimmering – tiny sequins planted upon raven cascade of steamrolled, rebellious curls of yesteryears.

Gandharva Marriage’ – my mom wanted me to have the marriage where the Gods were specially invited to lap up the grandeur and the sense of heightened ceremony.
The chants are loud and yellow and orange are in full blossom.
The ‘Brahmins’ from the Ram Krishna Mission are busy with invoking the ‘devs’.
It’s quite the feel good.

My eyes wander to the main entrance – studded with canopies of fresh flowers – flourishing with satin trimmings. I am imagining you pulling up at the main gates and climbing out of your SUV.
I imagine me turning around and still watching.
I imagine the world coming to a standstill.
The noise, the chants, the invocations – the exhortations. The plebeian ways of simpletons.
The ruse of marriage – the farce of social commitments – the endlessly tedious grind of promises made with the Gods in sitting.
I imagine lifting off my ninety grand ‘lehnga’ and kicking off my golden sandals. I imagine the sweet summer grass kissing the soles of my feet before an errant, deviant flight.
I imagine natural whispers clapping dervishly, the wind whipping, the sun beating down more violently.
Nature loves the erring. Nature loves the wild.
Nature prides the runaway bride.

My mom shuffles close to me and gently leads me away. The ‘havan kund’ is smoking incensed smoke.
The smell reminds me of ancient yagya rituals where the power of the unknown was invoked through concentrated energies focussing on the intemperate, uncontrolled – akhand.

‘What’s the time?’ I whisper to my dad.
He looks at his watch and mumbles something.
I look ahead and walk.
I bend low and sit cross legged next to a version of a Greek God in the middle of ancient Aryan mystique.
The Brahmin looks agitated to me. It’s as if he is possessed.
The chants grow louder. The thunder in their voices – collective enigma can scare away even the Gods.
A thousand petals blanket me like colourful snow.
The ‘Gandharva’ rituals have begun.

From the corner of my eyes I see your Mitsubishi pull up in front of the entrance.
I get a glimpse of your alligator skin boots and your coarse khaki trousers – and your feet running.
The coming to stop just metres away from the incense and smoke, and petal showers and – an end.
You quickly scan your watch.
26 minutes.
One minute too late.
You look imploringly at me. You cannot see me.
You feel a sense of deep regret.
You look around frantically. Someone, can anyone help – please?
This is not right. This girl... she ... loves me? Maybe.
But this girl is mine.
You just stand there and do nothing.
You were always such a loser.
No dispute.

I don’t feel the rush of Gods here. Another false ritual.
I don’t feel the trembles of future entering and leaving me – I’m their testing ground.
Future, future, future. It’s looking for a new home.
I don’t feel flattered.
I don’t feel humbled.
Not euphoric.
Not overjoyed.
Not sad.

Through the maze of smoke and flowers I look at his face. Instinctively he looks back at me and nods. I see the certainty of future already have found a home in me.
But I don’t love him.
And I don’t love he who is the deer caught in the headlights of one minute too late.
I don’t love.
I don’t hate.
But I’m getting married.
No dispute. 

Monday, April 25, 2011

Hells in Her


Her skins are the sores of my existence. No, not shores. That was for another.
Bleeding sores that are very precocious. They have a life of their own. They refuse to heal.
I refuse to let them stay. We war.
I don’t remember a time when we were not warring.
Maybe we were born to war. Some people are like that only.

Her breaths are the bane of my existence. As long as she is breathes I know she is alive.
As long as she is alive I know that I want her.
As long as I want her, I know sores of my existence will never heal.
There is a time and place for healing. Now is just not it.

Her caution is scourge of my passions. There is something so reviling about caution.
It is born to kill abandon. The death of abandon is like a piece of hell.
There is no heaven to balance it.
That hell just is.

Her existence is like a mark on my soul. Its presence is like an outsider.
It never assimilates nor consumes. It never gets consumed.
It’s just happy being what it is. A mark on my existence.
It is like an outsider who’s stolen inside my home.
My home is no longer mine, I share is with a stranger.
She’s a beautiful stranger. So I let her stay.
Worse, I love her, so I let her stay.

Her random laughter is the last nail in my coffin. It is very cruel.
It comes when I am ready to die.
She exhales her cold breath on the dying sores and begs them to revive.
She doesn’t even let them die.
There is a time and place for dying. Now is just not it.

Her occasional deaths are like the prelude to a standstill.
Except her heart is beating. And her soul is moving.
It is roving all over me, untidily.
There is no succour in killing her; no celebration in her death.
She is extremely alive. She never dies.



She is like the sores of my existence.
Everywhere I try to build a world, without her, she follows, hidden inside the rot of my faith.
She is there where no one chances to visit. She is there because she dares.
To embrace the ugly, to accept the flaws; to never show up in reality, but never abandon in dreams.

She makes me want to war her.
We’re always warring.
Some people are like that only.

Disturbing.


Its like you're homesick for a place that doesn't even exist.
Its like you're addicted to a story no one's even ever written.
It's like you're feeling ghost pains in a limb you've never lost.
It's like your're laughing at joke that wasn't meant to be one.
It's like you're trying to understand lies.
It's like you're trying to rationalize life.
It's like you're saying sorry for being who you are.
It's like you're seeking forgiveness for all the things others did wrong.
It's like you're stuck inside the pages of a book and can't find your way out.
It's like you're in a rabbit hole. But its just a road you've only traveled too much.
It's like you're original in being someone else's photo copied mistakes.
It's like you're being you best when you're being fake.


It's just plain darned freakishly disturbing. 

But you insist on it all.


Truth 's ain't on sale.
Selling out. All the way! 
And you wonder why you fail?
Its not because you've lost your groove
It's because you now try to prove:
Rights. wrongs. Deprivations.
Deviations.
It's like everything needs to be explained?
When did you get so vain?
Or so-not-vain-at-all?
I don't like to watch to you fall.
But you insist on it all.

Truth's ain't on sale.
And you wonder why you cannot bail?
This bogus gravy train's left the station
And guess who's got the window view?
Tired, or not of all the compromise?
Sit tight because we're now aboard
the house of lies
Built on momnumental sacrifices
Your spirit, now sans profane, sans insane?
Your oh-so-meaningful-meaningless-mind games
You have changed.
But you insist on it all.

Truth ain't for sale.
And you think can sail -
Past your honest mistakes?
Once you wouldn't change a thing about them
Now you insist
And resist
Proclaim, still-with shame
That they weren't honest at all?
You're sold out. Just like a lie.
And you don't mind at all.
Infact, you insist on it all.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Bitch, Someone?


Thank You, but no Thanks
I’m not here to convince you
Why I am the girl who you ought to
Watch with your indecent amusement
Your patronising lilt is not funny
I’m not here for your social reputation
And up yours with your money!

So what then?
I ‘m a bitch?
Because I will not fall in line
As you whistle and stand aside
In usual expectation
Oh well, welcome to a random deviation
Because if sticking up for what I believe   
And in trying to retrieve
My natural dignity
From your rubbished superiority complexes
Is being a little wily bitch
Oh such a boring cliché!

Your’re hating my tantrums with a vengeance
How you wish I would lower my eyes?
And tremble when you threaten consequences
Because I’m a natural when it comes to defy?
Your man made rules
How superficial!
You’re totally unreasonable in your demands
Bursting at your seams
What an infantile ego perched on the grand stand!
Mocking at my unshaved legs
Raising eye brows at my carefree gait
So surly because I also have needs
And not because I’m here just to please?!
I’ll be needing some artificial resuscitation
Because I’m fainting with despise
I can point you the door just right now
Because I’m not willing to pay the price
To tend to your giddy insecurities
I’m willing to wait for a real man
Meanwhile I’m busy not giving a damn
As you spit the venomous cliché
What a bitch! What a bitch!

So maybe I am bitch because I dare
Also because I openly care
For my friends even when they’re different
Openly flaunting my heart
And discovering my natural skill
At making most human mistakes
Such a bitch because I have the art
To ravish every natural temptation;
Scoring alpha in bitchiness quotient
With a loud mouth
Not even afraid to swear;
And perseverant to the point of madness
Bitch in being doggedly smart
You’ll be such a man if you’ll grudgingly accept
Being a perfect bitch is such an art

Ahoy! So what’s up with the cliché?
Masterminding my own business
I’m gonna just get by
Being who I am if it equals
In your world as being a bitch
Then worry for your world
Cause the bitches will arrive
With their warheads worn as labels
Premonition, did you have?
The warhead is code named Bitch
Such a cliché! Such a cliché!