Monday, December 10, 2012

Train to nowhere

leafless trees, cornless fields,
in the snowless winter

a journey that began but never touched its destination;
books remained open until the winds closed them,
dreams remained unfinished.

window next to my seat has no snowflakes but big specks of dust
and all I could see through is vagueness mingled with half-truths
I end up joining dots, on this train to nowhere

sometimes I feel being distracted, lost
other times, I feel at peace with the nature - the ugly one
after all, the beautiful nature was a poet's creation
even the story-writers have been fooling us with stories that never happened.

all this occurs to me before season changes
the train halts to a stop
and I meet my loved one

Sunday, October 14, 2012


Perhaps, all the doors have been locked
and all the windows blocked,

Perhaps, there are no mornings
and just dim blue lights

Perhaps, the trees have gone colorless
and the rivers stopped flowing,

Perhaps, now children don't play
and just too loud music

Ah, well, I am talking nonsense
but why we are so timid,
depressed, lifeless, bored?

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Poems from the funny past

Was checking old mails and found this. Supposedly an expert comment from someone on one of my writings...

What I wrote:

Ek prasna,
hawa mein tair raha ha vah
aur mein use dekh raha hun
sath sun bhi raha hun

par aaj hawa shant hai
neerav, andhkarmaya

ik jhonke ka intazar hai use
shayad ban jaye wo uttar!

logon se puchha hai maine
pralobhan bhi diya hai
uttar de do iska
par wo to prasn hi nahi jaante (meri tarah!)

kya aap jante hain?
uttar denge?
And the comment.. (posted without permission)

so sweet a poem,

kya aap jaante hain?
uttar denge?

what's wrong in trying?

OYe, I'll write in english, cos meri english poetry thori theek thaak
hai as compared to hindi..

The unasked one!!
It tumbles inside you
as wine splashes against the walls of half filled bottle
its reflection floating in the air
Accompanied by a strange mystery
an unknown future,
an unknown history
and you wonder
'how to find its key?"

Perhaps, you try too hard to read the question..
and uske baad, like a big stupid, you're asking others the answer.
Its "your" question
it's answer lay with you only
and if I will try to answer it,
it will become mine..
I'll tell you the question,
it's easy for me to do so
I'll give you the answer
you will easily know the unknown
but in the whole process,
you'll lose "yourself" in the question
The moment I'll try to answer "your" question
it will become "mine"
and thus, I wont be able to answer "your" question
How can I? Unless i become you
How can anyone else? Unless he becomes you
Isn't strange what you've asked for at the end of your poem?

the question differs for each soul
and so does the answer
and yet somewhere, just somewhere..
every question and every answer is linked
Try to look for that link
the answer exists,
Just "be aware" of the fact that the answer exists as you are aware
about the existence of question
You might not find the answer hovering in air,
or inside you or anywhere..
but just know that,
The answer has to be known "through you"
and once you are able to "feel" the existence of the answer
Just close eyes,
Scream out
ask the cosmos the same
and then in silence will you hear some words
The words carrying that silent answer
you'll get the answer even without knowing the question
The answer that is yours.

Great.. what a stupid poetry, bad bad bad poetry,

"....bad days of poetry began,
as I picked up the pen... "
(its from one of my poems)

anyhow, I guess you got "the answer"..
strange hai na..

I didnt answer your question, yet you got some answer.

that's the magic of creator,
cos he has left both the answers and the questions undefined..
well, just a game of mind
and its so so so sweet, how beautifully my words rhyme

anyhow, forget all questions and answers

Just know One thing

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Living Ida Underwood

Few months back, I got to know I own a car and have not paid for its insurance for long. They are asking me to pay the insurance premiums, and I am worried where did I park my car? I have also not made the mortgage payments for the apartments I bought in different parts of USA; for the health insurance of my children; towards the court settlement of my last divorce. Technically, I am broken, and chances are fair that I will be jailed soon. But, here's a good news. I just won a million dollar lottery, and one of my closest relatives died in western Africa and the advocate(s) wants me to sign some papers before I get rich again. Confused, I scroll down my mailbox to know about the girl I slept with,

hi again,It has been long time, I missed you.l
et me know when you come again.
see ya...

And before I pack up to catch some sleep in isolation, here's the message

Ciao bello-u still kicking? Enjoying ur day off?

Seemingly she knows I am in no mood of any more guessing, so yet another soon,

Its angie

The only familiar voice in my cellphone is the alarm ringing. I love it these days, enjoying the music in the ears until disrupted by the "missed alerts", voicemails, and calls looking for me, "Mr Ida Underwood". For few months, I fought with myself over the mishap that happened with my Indian Sanskritized name, given to me by my very own parents. I also fought with the keypad on my mobile, trying to lessen the "Underwoodness" gifted to me through my cellphone provider. Some of those computerised calls contained an info to click a particular key if I am not Ida Underwood. And I hear a "Sorry" to be called again very soon by the same generous caller. Others promised me to connect to some executive who can probably tow the Underwood out of me. In the light of hope, I waited, I waited, over the music, until I hang up. Mr. Executive is busy removing the Underwood tag of others.

So, I devised an excellent scheme. If you click on "Contacts" on my cellphone, you'll find, among some irrelevant entries,

Stupid Caller YYY-YYY-YYYY

These are the numbers I don't pick up. Worked well for a while until I found my cellphone memory cannot support the contact list of a socialite of Underwood's stature and I gave up. In addition, I have also started to doubt on myself. Am I Ida Underwood? If I am, I should better hang up on my roof rather than hanging the cellphones. My X- and Y- girlfriends will kill me. My vehicle and home loans are surmounting. And I am yet to find my car, probably its towed. And my condos, are those towed too?

Sunday, October 19, 2008

IQ Test - IQ Test

So I'm merely a "Gifted" :D

Intelligence IntervalCognitive Designation
40 - 54Severely challenged (Less than 1% of test takers)
55 - 69Challenged (2.3% of test takers)
70 - 84Below average
85 - 114Average (68% of test takers)
115 - 129Above average
130 - 144Gifted (2.3% of test takers)
145 - 159Genius (Less than 1% of test takers)
160 - 175Extraordinary genius

Sunday, April 27, 2008

No more blogging

I feel I should do no more blogging from now. Getting freed of internet fever. Dropping addictions, one by one!

Perhaps will never be back here, Good Bye Blogger!

Sunday, March 23, 2008

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Untied prisoners

Erased the dusts off paper,
And gifted a brand new pencil.

Untied, unchained hands,
No restrains whatsoever.

But now an onus- a contract
A time frame - and waiting eyes.

No matter how we are kept,
We are yet prisoners-
Prisoners of war!

There is freedom, in the thin sheet of light,
That separate the vast arrays of darkness.

Be there, take a respite,
But then choose, should say discover,
And join the fellow prisoners.

Embodied with a vision to plan,
A mind to create, a soul to abolish,
Concoct your own story,
To be priced with you.

A priced individual, incur your costs,
And get paid for your fortunes,
Higher, yet higher, yet more,

Count and keep counting,
Parsimony, I call it; which but,
Won't let you spend on the carriage,
Thus, you will never, admit it!
Will never escape this untied prison.