Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Media

BREAKING NEWS:

Israeli Jew militants bombed a Berlin shopping mall. 42 dead, more than 100 critically injured. 

A Japanese school-bus driver opened gunfire, shouting "Buddha is Great", killing more than 50 school-kids in downtown Chicago.

Recent beheadings of kidnapped British cricketers - Hindu group "Tat Twam Asi" owns responsibility. 

CONCLUSION:

Speak after me - terror has no religion. Islam has nothing to do with terror.

Breaking Up

Somewhere on Planet Earth. Sometime.

Primal Dark Night. Bright Stars. Sporadic swoosh of Cold Dry Wind. Silence.

Bang! I hear door of the world being slammed on my face. I turn back and walk away. I walk away and turn back. I pause. I reflect. I stand out, outside the periphery, under the starry umbrella, gazing at the world, which looks like a gigantic space station - a huge spread of negative space with lighted airplane windows clustered and scattered. Perhaps I am dreaming. The whole world seems alien to me.

Today, we break up. I stand out, alone.

I am pronounced guilty in the hearing. I am not even hearing.  I am wondering if I could care any less.

This is the first day of my remaining years. Yes, that matters, that alone. There is darkness and no signposts, just a star in the sky, that alone. 

Friday, April 17, 2015

Parole (or Prison Break)

I died
Yesterday
Or day before
I don’t remember

I lied
In leisure
Life oozed out
In moody slowness

Red, it was
The color of pain
The color of anxiety
The color of bondage

Silky smoke
Spiraling poetry
Like solemn tunes
For last communion

Ordinary Gandhi

Your surname is Gandhi. Can you, dear reader, relate to this situation? Can you even imagine?

Let's look at the crux of it - you have all the wealth of this world, and power. And everything else, in excess. You cannot have more, though you can do as much as you want. Will you work? What will you do? What would be your motivation?

Don't read any further before answering these questions.

Consider yourself lucky, dear reader, that you don't have to answer the Sphinx/Yaksha. For you, these questions are optional. You went ahead to read further.

At this point, let me take back my words. You don't have everything, let alone in excess. The Sakya prince was not a moron to have left his kingdom if princes have everything.

Coming to think of it, princes are often deprived of the most common, but most vital, things in life. They have company even if they want solitude, but do they have friends? Can they trust their friends? Can you have friends without trust? Can they loose themselves to simple pleasures without getting themselves high? Who is not an addict, by the way?

Ditto for love. Can he have simple joy of being loved, admired and accepted? How does he make sure if she loves him? All of them swear they do. Pause for a moment. This is not an ordinary loss. This is massive! Is that why he runs away to faraway lands to find some semblance of love, just like his father did? Does that make him a philanderer? 

Could you be any different? 

I think that there are two type of people - anonymous and celebrity; and as a rule of thumb each side needs much more imagination and sympathy than they usually have to make any sensible comment about the other.

The man in question, in my opinion, is not perfect. Far from it. But none of us is. He is an ordinary man stuck in an extraordinary situation, like a deer in the headlights. He should just run away, to find his love, and his motivation. But how many of us do, just because we should? We keep hanging around; so does he.

Coexistence

Doctor: Your report has arrived. You have cancer.
Patient: Not sure if I wanted to know, though I had suspected something like that.
Doctor: We might have to go for surgery.
Patient: That will be costly, isn’t?
Doctor: Less costly than all other options, or the only other option.
Patient: Sure we cannot coexist - cancer and I? I believe in coexistence.
Doctor: Cancer doesn’t.
Patient: May be my cancer is different.
Doctor: God bless you.

Corporate Mockroach

One mockroach
Catching up with another
In a frantic mockroach race
Of directionless dissatisfaction

Ever busy
Going nowhere
Running on treadmill
Burning damp with perspiration

Friday, April 10, 2015

Make in India

And here arrives
Another life
Another soul
Another little pit

This little pit would grow
Into a sea of desire
A cornucopia of dearth
A million wants

His hunger
Slaughterhouses
His needs (or greed)
Draughts, traffic, and inflation

Forgotten in chaos
Or procrastinated in haste
A million orphaned wants
Lie cold on the compromise way

But what this fuss is all about?
Multiply - Matrix needs cells
Wars need voters, if not heroes
Just be useful to somebody

Tuesday, April 07, 2015

The Prophet of Desert

There is no god
That's not My own
That doesn't speak My words
Prostrate on My only begotten god

The past was distortion
The future will be blasphemy
Let the infidel clock tick away to glory
I break the nib that sentenced your destiny

Submit to Me
The way I approve
Defeat, and enjoy the defeated
Slay, but ritually, as per My law

I circumcise, I shroud
I herd My flock in line
Having sermoned unsolicited 
I take no questions, only offense

Have faith in me, since
My faithful eggs break not
And if they did, they had no faith
Mashallah! Heads you lose tails I win

Saturday, April 04, 2015

Interview

Your CV
Your paper self
Your better half
Lying on the table

Will you be able to
Match your metaphor
With convincing conviction
That’s the question

But why fret, why despair
Rest assured, my friend
If you are not juicy
Someone is not hungry

And it helps to remember
No matter what happens
You will be misjudged
One way or the other

Friday, April 03, 2015

Perfume

August evening
Rain beating against the roof
In monophonic monotony
Of meditative noise

Widowed Monsoon
Clouds dangle heavily
From a teary canopy
Of far-spreading melancholy

Out in the cold
Steaming cup of coffee
Gazing into nothingness
Hearing echoes of imagination

All of a sudden
Out of nowhere
A gust of wind flies by
Leaving a smell behind

Like a thunderbolt
In primitive darkness
Revealing you
In my arms, almost