Run

I'm running.
Running from the past.
Running from the pain.
Running with a floppy Santa hat.

My two-bits for the day

And, how is it that your feeling today?

Like everything is fleeting and that something, someone besides memories should stay.

Growing up

I wonder if when we grow up is when we stop to ask questions - How long? Until when? Would you stay? I wonder if when we grow up is when we stop to say please. Please don't go away tonight. And, I wonder if when we grow up is when we stop to say Go Away. Because, then we're afraid you wouldn't stay.

The Grown up and the child

There's a fair amount of me, that's all grown up. A bit of a lost soul, many broken relationships, the bit in me that looks, absorbs, writes are some reasons. And, there's a tiny piece of me that's still a child. Aching to be loved, adored, prance around in child-like ridiculiosness.
Isn't love really about respecting and loving the grown up in him and adoring, protecting the child in him? Isn't that really what love is all about?

Stay

Because all I really want to do is be happy.

Yeh Zindagi Kya Cheez Hai

I wonder if some of us have become over-sensitised to the vagaries of modern India, that we so reluctantly accept what really makes our nation. I wonder if some of us are so obsessed with the here and now; I wonder if some of us are so afraid to revel in what happened before the here and now.

I wonder if last night...some of us even saw the bright lights dancing in the night sky. I wonder if they saw the vibrant reds, the shining eyes holed out of the coal black...I wonder if they really listened to the words?

I wonder why some of us so easily trade Ajeeb Dastaan, Yeh Zindagi Kya Cheez Hai and Mast Kalandar for the nasal twang and the likes. I wonder why we run away from the unfamiliar. I wonder why some of us never swap the usual coffee shop routine for the unknown. I wonder why we know so little of where we come from and so hurriedly lap up 'the cool.'

Last night, at a ghazal evening, I wonder how many noticed the singers smiled as they sang. And then, in turn, how many swayed..sang...and smiled? Even as cellphones jangled, crackers turned noisy, conversation twittered and the drunk stumbled in for the last number. Ah, the vagaries of modern India...how hard IS it to let go?

November Rain

And, the rain came down
Slowly; Hurriedly
Lashing against
Now-spent-umbrellas,
Hastily sputtered-up pakodas,
Black taxi-cabs
And neon blue light auto-rickshaws.

Lashing against
Toes stepped upon
by a hundred, frenzied toes
Hands chanced upon
by a hundred, hungry hands
New-found love,
Glances unreturned.

And, the rain came down
Joyously; Hurriedly
Lacing bittersweet cups
of warm tea
Serenading pebbled excuses-
for city-streets

Hurling happiness
Hurtling despair
Twirling, for just an instant,
The little girls
With big black eyes
And rancid hearts
Of never-ever.

And, oh how the rain came down
Joyously; Hurriedly.