Tuesday, 24 May 2016

Look into my Ocelli

In I walk alone,

And my presence is noticed

On the border of a pane

Or over one’s glasses my path is


I evoke such a feeling

That is never with glee

Cover up your vessels,

I’m on a licking spree


Not one that is pretty,

Not one that is quaint

I’m generally stuck to you

If the dampness is constrained


My wings beat wild,

My eyes roam free

No stink can stop me

I’m despicably me


Ok, the butterfly is a darling

And no one’s better than the bee!

I see no need

To add to my injury


I may pick up dirt

Or play in muck all day

In the end of all

I’m made to pay


My existence is worthless,

You scream all day

Diseases I carry,

Hence you keep me at bay


Not difficult to maintain,

My needs are little

Give me a king’s meal,

 A drain or a puddle


Why can’t you love me?

Is my innocent reverie

I don’t even sting or bite

Oh poor me


Punished is my start,

And my end you see

So let me fly my life away

In sweet misery



Thursday, 7 April 2016

My Daddy strongest!

Stuck with me for now and forever,
Being a part of you is cherished and treasure

The man you were, was matched to few
So much we learned then and the findings grew,

Your heart was of gold,
Your skin silken weave

Even your departure,
taught me consciousness while I grieve

For us you were a man of action,
A hero on earth, doing his duties with passion

You taught us so much, You gave us such freedom
Adjusting to life constantly was normal in your kingdom

Cause you were our king, who had us enslaved
with your love and softness, you only gave

Grateful we are for who we are now
Our core is strong as you must have wanted and how!

You show us how a true parent should be,
Even all these years later, Im glad your hand constructed me.

(this poem has been written today, the day my late father would have been 86. He is still sorely missed by his four children )

Friday, 25 March 2016

That day

That day,
was my birthday,
that day, I was to feast

Little did my heart know,
the morning would awaken a beast
the beast of terrorism to hit my city,
a city, oh so far from the East

That day, little did I know,
that so much would unfold
hiding the face of violence,
So little to say the least.

The airport shook,
the metro screamed,
people ran in terror,
That day, was such a shame
that it existed,
it still seems like an error.

The day after spring,
was meant to be
a day of joy and hope
That day, left a population,
redefining their lives and its scope.

That day, Brussels, my home
far from my roots, cried out in pain
that day, like today,
my heart still sings out, let this not be in vain

Save us from our our demons,
Save us from our thoughts,
Save us from our negaitivity,
let life, bloom and sprout
And bring about a feeling of solidarity

Today is not that day,
Tomorrow will be less,
That day is the first day
of  Rising Hope and Humanness

Monday, 21 March 2016

Words in a poem, poem in words

On the day of poetry,
The heart wants more
Childhood dreams
and blessings galore

Opening up pages,
Soaking in thoughts
Painting a picture
With feelings and what not

A book for him
Or me or us,
The fun of this ride
Is clearly inside the bus

Before we can speak,
After we have finished all
Words and phrases
Form the link in this wild crawl

Of life and after that,
From book to thought
To tongue to touch all
Sweet as sugar or not

Feed me well,
Such food for thought
Let me make life
Count more than a lot.

Tuesday, 9 February 2016


How do you move forward
when the current pulls you back?
What can you do to fight the feeling of lack?
Lack of some skills or lack of ambition,
Or is it just a void of any kind of mission.
Killing a routine can be irksome,
Unless you pull out a solution from the hat of a magician.
Many of us sure feel this way,
Lets see what is at offer to while it away.

The choices we made,
bring us sorrow and joy
The games we once played,
may have had the power to destroy.
The moment is here,
the moment is now
Grasp it when you can
You must know how.

You must know how,
Cause Time can slip away
While you are fretting,
the clock is ticking all day.
Hold on to your joys,
Hold on to your love.
Life is truly a blessing
Sent from Heaven Above

Monday, 16 September 2013

Snippets of city folk visiting the village- train memory 1

Like most other Indians who had settled in Mumbai, my parents too used to travel back home once a year to their home towns and villages. For me as a child, anything outside my colony was NOT home.
The colony even had it's own smell, believe you me. The smell of the fish market, of the peanuts getting roasted at the stall near the bus stop, of the milk centre, the sound of the church bells. They all reassured and comforted me.
But, I had to go to the village with my parents as my siblings were older and independent. They especially didn't need me stuck to them, did they? Those days we travelled by sleeper trains and the travel from Mumbai to Kerala took nearly three whole days. Since my parents weren't rich and were also concerned about the quality of food sold on the way, we usually had a stock of food for the whole journey. The stock included tamarind rice, curd rice mixed with mango pickle, fried banana chips, chaklis and chivda. If we were really lucky, there were a couple of packets of Glucose biscuits. Amma used to wait for the chayas (teas) on the train and the water had to be refilled in the empty bottles once it had run out. Other than that, money was hardly ever spent on anything. As a rule, if Daddy said 'NO' once, even dancing on our heads would not get the man to change his mind. Which reminds me that he had much more willpower than me with my kids!
 I have some very funny memories from some of these journeys. I remember we were getting back to Mumbai from the village. Having spent three days watching several hawkers pass by had been tough for me. Of course, I tried coaxing Mummy to buy me a sweet or some 'delicious looking' savory. But, deep down I knew it wouldn't be granted. So, I watched other families sitting next to us buying and eating all sorts of fresh food while I knew I wouldn't go hungry with the heavy rice that sat in the steel container next to Mummy. But it's not the same thing, is it?
So I just put out my bed, which was actually the backrest of the seat allotted to my father and went to sleep. Sometime later, I felt someone try and wake me up. I resisted, as I didn't want to wake up and get tempted again. Then I heard my Daddy call me and I could feel a wonderful draft of fried food wake me to my senses. I looked at his hands and there wrapped in the standard newspaper pack were four, four! not just a single plate of two but a double plate of four steaming meduvadas staring back at me.
And Daddy's fantastic smile offering them to me. I looked from the food to Dad,to the food again and then turned to my Amma and said " Who gave this to him?". I just couldn't believe my lucky stars that Daddy actually spent some extra money on outside food. The smile on my parents faces while we three shared those four vadas still brightens my day.

PS: They were absolutely right to not feed us such food regularly!

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

The depth of innocence

This was the time of the day that they enjoyed the most. The building was alive with noise and preparation. Eighteen homes where lunch was being prepared, clothes were being washed, vessels were being cleaned. So much activity and so many happenings.One could smell the poor sweeper in the corridor trying to finish his chores, surrounded by the smell of rot emerging from the bins on the landing. Adding to that was the laundry boy climbing the stairs, very audibly heaving a heavy stock. The new bride on the second floor was singing a strange tune, an unknown melody that made her voice reach out to them, the children in the garden.
They knew they just had an hour before they would all be called home for lunch. An hour in which they needed to try and fit it all their favorite games.

Today's game seemed to be 'land and water'.

The make belief water was the space within the bigger raised rectangle made of cement ,whereas the land consisted of the three tinier rectangles in the center.
Everyone was cheering on the nine year old girl, who had done a great job of catching out 3 boys who lived in the building across the road. But Ragini knew she could not give up unless she caught the brother- sister duo, the ones who lived on the first floor. She tried to get the brother who ran across from the central spot to the one on the left, to no avail. He was just too rapid.The sister smiled her silly smile of joy.
 Lunch hour was nearly there and Ragini heard her mother call out.
No game in the world was worth missing the choicest pieces of fish her mother would have prepared! To choose before her brother of course. So Ragini wanted to signal the end of the game.
She turned her head away from her playmates to yell out....and....
She heard a huge crack,
She saw the group sitting in front of her widen their eyes, drop their jaws and gape...
She felt a chill run down her spine,
Something was just not right.
'What was happening?', her head screamed at her. So she quickly followed the shocked gazes to fix the point behind herself...
and realized with a shock that the central rectangle (made of cement) had given way, taking with it the brother-sister duo. They were half stuck in the gaping hole that promised to gulp them down any other second.
Ragini asked herself "Why can't I move? I cannot feel my feet, can I?"
She wanted to do something but just could not.
Thanking God that not everyone around her were as frightened as her, she witnessed her friends pull them out. They were shaking with fear but seemed fine from where she stood.
Her gaze ran all the way from their wide tearful eyes down to their legs covered with something brown, something smelling real real bad....

"I always thought that letting our children play on the septic tank would lead to nightmares like this! No one listens to me at the general body meetings", wailed a hysterical woman.