what is memory? just the hopeful synaptic climax of one tragically hysterical effort after another to recreate nostalgia.
even if it happened a moment ago.
this is one cupboard that will stay untidy. and no matter how much you go rotting around in your brain, you will not find the answer to happiness. Just pray that the next time, the motorist is too drunk to notice you wander across the expressway.
utekkare,
pranay
____________________________________________________________________________
the threat of life
the bane of pleasure
the depths of desire
and expectations.
the pain of satisfaction
the chill of comfort
the surreal optimism
the instinctively hopeful
will be
the scourge of you.
and Yes.
Torn you are.
____________________________________________________________________________
sigh. yes, sigh.
desire. pain. warmth. wind.
sunshine. rain. undeniable happiness.
a window of hope. a ray of sparkling glory.
silence.
if only there were words.
utekkare,
pranay
____________________________________________________________________________
flights of fancy
fanciful expeditions
of the vengeful mind
mindless delusions of
the vagaries of dissent
entombed in disaster
return to the fold
venture not, not far, not close
lost in time, in space, in vain
regretfully yours
Progress? Nil.
QED.
____________________________________________________________________________
running into walls of time
clashing with memories of a bygone era
when i was naive. and headstrong.
silent masses of thoughts colliding
gathering into a cohesive unit
entrancing even the sublimely outspoken
ensnaring, endearing, entrapment
sorrow, plight, darkness,
plunging headlong into tomorrow.
let me sleep some more.
utekkare
____________________________________________________________________________
the autumn of life.. full of falling leaves..
the most foolish of fools.. will call this gold.
but gold it is.. the treasure of windfalls.
made of madness, and of hope.
of optimism, and of desperation.
chase them till they fall. never to rise again.
utekkare
____________________________________________________________________________
i speak less. hissing is a language.
i have no leanings. the absence of choice becomes an option.
i float in thin air. my feet are light and my heart is heavy.
i laugh in the face of danger.
and i light my own fires.
utekkare
____________________________________________________________________________
ah, the plate glass barriers, shielding the vulnerable, and the eminently anguished...
arms at the ready, poised to strike.
shields at the shoulder, bent over, peering down the glint of your spear.
strengthen your armour, and tighten your noose.
hear the sound of the twig cracking? it is the disheartened cry of your own will, breaking. silently.
utekkare,
pranay
____________________________________________________________________________
utekkare.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
The day I died and went to Heaven. Almost.
So the other day I got tired of living. Yes, it can happen sometimes. So I decided to do that great twirly whirly thing and die. You know, kaput, the end, sayonara, shalom, etc etc. So I walked up to the terrace on the highest floor of my building, and stepped out onto the parapit, and stared down. But my life did not flash before my face. Only a pigeon did. Not very encouraging, I saw. I avoided all the mini satellite dishes, and a smile crept across my face as I thought of all that satellite disruption I was causing... Or maybe not. But atleast I felt evil. Atleast that was a thought.
I carefully avoided all the wires, and the ropes and the bamboos and the decorative lights from the recent wedding reception that had been held there. After all you do not want to get tripped while trying to die. It's so gauche.
So I tiptoed to the edge and turned around. And then I smiled. A million dollar smile. One that would have made Renuka Shahane proud. And I spread my arms exactly the way I had imagined and I lunged backwards into the vast pool of cool air. As I hurtled down, I wondered about whether I had turned the Air Conditioner off in my room, and if I had left my wallet out in the open again. And whether the door had been closed. There would be mosquitoes again in the... THWACK. I hit Joy's Alto ass-up and as i felt the blood oozing out of my ears, I closed my eyes and died. Well my heart stopped and my vitals were killed. My brain was still ticking over but it had nothing to talk with. My body was smashed. Since It didnt want to be lonely, it decided to Die as well.
I started looking for a way to exit the body. The mouth was closed. The eyes were bulging open but it would take a while to ooze past the whites of the eyes. And those flies are so worrisome.. Always trying to get a taste or two... Oh wait there are people coming to see what that big THUD was.. hmm, this should be better. I'll exit from the bloody backside.. It's such a pain to hang around in a stinky body, I tell you.
But I got out. Eventually. And I needed directions. I haven't died in 28 years and a bit you see.. Add another 9 months gestation before that and it's been about 30 years since I bit the bullet the last time. So I needed directions..
I wandered around a bit near Kemp's Corner.. wandered down Marine Drive.. See, when you're a free spirit, you can do whatever you want, wherever you want. I always wanted to go to the Niagara Falls.. BOOM, I was there. While I was playing "lean-over-the-scaffolding", a portly young man came to me and said, "Spirit, here is your ticket to the sorting station." And he handed me an icecream cone. Reach the station before it melts or you'll miss your ride. And then he looked at me. Peered, rather. Rather rudely, I might add. Almost microscopic. And then he winced and walked away, muttering, "these out-of-turners.. why wont they just make a fist of it while they're alive.. make a mess of the system.."
Well, when you have an icecream in your hand, especially a spiritual icecream, you shouldnt let it melt, so I started licking it, and eating it, and making sure I had the stickiest spirit fingers I could get. Suddenly I looked up and I saw I was in a waiting room. A table and a chair was at the far end, and the official-looking creature behind the table looked.. well, he looked Bihari, and spoke with a Mid-Atlantic twang.
I walked up to him and handed over my now-empty cone. By now, the old ways had come back to me, and I knew what the drill was now. Icecream was such an eternal icon.
So anyways, he looked at my cone, and then at me, and then at the cone again. He growled in Bhojpuri, and dumped the cone into a disposal by his side. One of those celestial bottomless regurgitative recyclers, you know. Then he looked at me, and cursed, and looked at his register, and then looked up at me and growled again. Then he said, "You're out of turn. You're not in the register. Wait."
All this time, spirits came in and out of the room, waltzed in, and floated out onto the platform. I heard trains coming and going but I couldnt see what was happening behind the thick curtains of the exit door. Sort of like Egyptian Immigration. Only dirtier, less ornate and ruder.
Then he gestured like a telephone dialled 3 digits on the make-believe handset and listened. Intently. He then spoke into thin air, and kept babbling on and on about irregularities and how he was a part-timer and why he wasn't cut out for this kind of work. After a while, he calmed down, and then hung up. He made a kind of gesture with his hand to denote an incoming fax paper and out of nowhere, a paper with writing on it materialised. He read the page, looked satisfied, and then beckoned to me.
He "Come here, you". I walked up. "Fill this". I stared at the printed form. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to die after all.
..Part 2 follows
utekkare,
pranay
I carefully avoided all the wires, and the ropes and the bamboos and the decorative lights from the recent wedding reception that had been held there. After all you do not want to get tripped while trying to die. It's so gauche.
So I tiptoed to the edge and turned around. And then I smiled. A million dollar smile. One that would have made Renuka Shahane proud. And I spread my arms exactly the way I had imagined and I lunged backwards into the vast pool of cool air. As I hurtled down, I wondered about whether I had turned the Air Conditioner off in my room, and if I had left my wallet out in the open again. And whether the door had been closed. There would be mosquitoes again in the... THWACK. I hit Joy's Alto ass-up and as i felt the blood oozing out of my ears, I closed my eyes and died. Well my heart stopped and my vitals were killed. My brain was still ticking over but it had nothing to talk with. My body was smashed. Since It didnt want to be lonely, it decided to Die as well.
I started looking for a way to exit the body. The mouth was closed. The eyes were bulging open but it would take a while to ooze past the whites of the eyes. And those flies are so worrisome.. Always trying to get a taste or two... Oh wait there are people coming to see what that big THUD was.. hmm, this should be better. I'll exit from the bloody backside.. It's such a pain to hang around in a stinky body, I tell you.
But I got out. Eventually. And I needed directions. I haven't died in 28 years and a bit you see.. Add another 9 months gestation before that and it's been about 30 years since I bit the bullet the last time. So I needed directions..
I wandered around a bit near Kemp's Corner.. wandered down Marine Drive.. See, when you're a free spirit, you can do whatever you want, wherever you want. I always wanted to go to the Niagara Falls.. BOOM, I was there. While I was playing "lean-over-the-scaffolding", a portly young man came to me and said, "Spirit, here is your ticket to the sorting station." And he handed me an icecream cone. Reach the station before it melts or you'll miss your ride. And then he looked at me. Peered, rather. Rather rudely, I might add. Almost microscopic. And then he winced and walked away, muttering, "these out-of-turners.. why wont they just make a fist of it while they're alive.. make a mess of the system.."
Well, when you have an icecream in your hand, especially a spiritual icecream, you shouldnt let it melt, so I started licking it, and eating it, and making sure I had the stickiest spirit fingers I could get. Suddenly I looked up and I saw I was in a waiting room. A table and a chair was at the far end, and the official-looking creature behind the table looked.. well, he looked Bihari, and spoke with a Mid-Atlantic twang.
I walked up to him and handed over my now-empty cone. By now, the old ways had come back to me, and I knew what the drill was now. Icecream was such an eternal icon.
So anyways, he looked at my cone, and then at me, and then at the cone again. He growled in Bhojpuri, and dumped the cone into a disposal by his side. One of those celestial bottomless regurgitative recyclers, you know. Then he looked at me, and cursed, and looked at his register, and then looked up at me and growled again. Then he said, "You're out of turn. You're not in the register. Wait."
All this time, spirits came in and out of the room, waltzed in, and floated out onto the platform. I heard trains coming and going but I couldnt see what was happening behind the thick curtains of the exit door. Sort of like Egyptian Immigration. Only dirtier, less ornate and ruder.
Then he gestured like a telephone dialled 3 digits on the make-believe handset and listened. Intently. He then spoke into thin air, and kept babbling on and on about irregularities and how he was a part-timer and why he wasn't cut out for this kind of work. After a while, he calmed down, and then hung up. He made a kind of gesture with his hand to denote an incoming fax paper and out of nowhere, a paper with writing on it materialised. He read the page, looked satisfied, and then beckoned to me.
He "Come here, you". I walked up. "Fill this". I stared at the printed form. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to die after all.
..Part 2 follows
utekkare,
pranay
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