I was watching
Her dance
I don’t know
What it was
That made me
Claustrophobic
I felt the only way out
Was the irrepressible urge
To cry
In applause
I did and felt
Something like smoke go
Out of my heart.
Tuesday, 20 August 2013
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
Reasons
They
are not as fortunate
As you
are
They
don’t care to
Groom
their looks
Or do
their hair
You
look at them,
Condescendingly
Like
you were
A
self-made man
Whose
meaning
I
honestly don’t know
You
are thinking
Of
various reasons
Why
people are born
Poor
and wanting
Because
you can’t
Take
an unanswered question
You
are convinced it’s Karma
Phew,
you sigh
Waiting
to do
The
next thing
In
your schedule.
A Dedication To Denmark ;-)
GROWING
UP WITH THE RAIN
Her birth cries
Were perhaps louder
Than the lashing downpour
When she came
To this dimension;
Is that why you become
Silently joyful
Taking a rain drop
In your eye
And letting it down
With your tear?
You forget you’ve
Grown up
And jump with excitement unbound
Forgetting the world
Dancing with the rain
As it were
Your ballet partner
None could make you merrier
None could make your
Cheeks blush deeper
As that drop
On your dimple
And your lips
You look down-
You look down
At five and a half feet
Under your eyes and
Your mama is watching
Through the misty window pane
Half thinking, half smiling
The perfect emotion of a mother
When she looks at her child
Who’s grown up
With the rain.
Monday, 12 August 2013
Incognito
The cunningness of
the bad doesn’t lie in the wicked-smart way in which they scheme things but in
convincing the weak of bad doing by exploiting this guilt to their good use.
For the weak believe that once they’ve erred, it’s not going to make a big deal
going over it again. What they’ve to realize is that once they forgive
themselves, they will start accepting their mistakes and walking a better path.
-Unknown.
“You were saying
son?” spoke my mom, inquiringly. “Oh, it’s nothing mom. A vain soliloquy I
guess.” My mom smiled that inscrutable smile of hers which I sometimes
suspected to be sardonic. This fabulous woman changed my life or rather pulled
me out from my path which was headed towards a self imposed dungeon. She was
rather my conscience. That would suffice, for if a son starts boasting about
his mom, he would go on and on. My thoughts now though are not about her but
another lady I met in my life.
Her name is Karthika
Subramaniam. No, she’s not my girlfriend. Her spiritedness disturbed me though.
Not because I am a chauvinist but in the small town of Udumalpet (a village in
west Tamil Nadu, a state in southern India) and a male dominated environment,
it was something new. She lost her father when she was eleven. I was five then.
Brought up in a non progressive environment, her talent did not materialize into
anything fruitful. Add to it the hatred of her paternal grandmother towards her
mom. There, you have a brilliant person sitting numb in a helpless situation. I
personally knew that there were times where there was literally no money in her
house. How do I know? Well, it sometimes helps to eavesdrop. I was ignorant
back then. Anyway, you could not ask more than good company from a vivacious
ten year old. The size of my nursery school was twice the size of a hut. So
naturally, we needed to move to the city of Coimbatore which was like 45 miles
away from Udumalpet for my high school education.
From the first day, I felt very comfortable
and at peace with the new surroundings. Located on the outskirts of the city
and with a mountain close to our place, our neighborhood was refreshing. Thinking
about my early school life, there wasn’t really anything exciting. I did what
every school student was supposed to do: slog. I never would’ve guessed she
would come into my life again. One evening, as I entered home, my mom was
speaking over the phone and I conjectured that it was about me. Later that
evening, she told me that I would have to go to Udumalpet every alternate
Sunday to study Computer Science and that Karthika would help me with the
subject. I was rather amused by the weird idea of travelling 60 kilometers to
study a subject. I consented and so started my journeys to Udumalpet.
The plum cakes from
the bakery nearby her computer centre and the gaming zone next door alone would
have sufficed but I was acutely aware of my responsibilities to make this travel
worth the time and energy. My guilt made me study. There were times when I felt
that was ridiculous but now when I think about it, I find it perfectly normal. Driven
by fear more than a genuine interest in the subject, I would blame myself for
not fighting the conventions but getting engulfed by it. Now earlier, Sunday
mornings spelled the end of a tiresome week and brought in a sigh of relief. Even
the relieved feeling of the Sunday now went for a toss for I would have to rush
back from Udumalpet in the evening and get things ready for a nervous Monday. Well,
talking about the Computer Science classes, I observed, to my shock, that the hairs
in her arms were turning brown. From the biology I had learnt, I perceived it
as the lack of protein. Between the times when she was a tall, beautiful girl
with twinkling eyes behind nerdy glasses and the serious and supple figure I
saw a lot of changes. That she was twenty three and already bearing signs of
struggle was something I couldn’t accept. When I pointed out to these “trivial”
things to her, she would say”I have more important things to do; things to
achieve.” “At what cost?” I would tend to ask but ultimately decide it was
better to shut up (For at times, her temper was fiery).
One Saturday evening,
she called me saying that her mother was unwell and so she wouldn’t be able to handle
classes for me that Sunday. I felt that it was only humanity to help her in
such a situation. So, as usual, I went to the centre the next day, acquired the
address from the person working there and proceeded to her house. There wasn’t
much difficulty in tracking her address. But there was genuine surprise in her
face at the sight of me. I learnt that her mom had typhoid fever. As she was
weak, Karthika had to drain the medicine slowly to her throat. I was
embarrassed and didn’t know how to react in such a situation. I don’t know why
such a stupid thought struck me but I took the four hundred rupees from my
pocket and said, “Mom asked me to give you the fees.” Her face was expressionless
for a split second and then gave me a smile refusing it. I felt like a total
idiot. We were speaking sometime about my studies. Sensing that I wasn’t really
interested to talk about studies at lunch time, she asked if I was hungry. “I
ate while coming” I lied. I was too embarrassed to eat. While she was having
lunch (and I consciously controlled my tongue from drooling), she told me about
her brother who was away most of the time but for the time he had to rest. I
was shocked at the fact that she hadn’t even mentioned about him once. I was
rudely reminded that ours had been a very formal teacher-student relationship and
I had hardly asked her anything personal. Realizing that it was late for my bus
and that I had to pay grandma a visit, I took leave with a heavy heart and an
empty stomach. After visiting my grandma, I started for Coimbatore. I did not
feel hungry. That day I learnt that hunger dies after sometime. I sat in the
bus musing for two hours till the bus reached Coimbatore. Why was life so unfair?
Life is cruel, I thought. I told my mom what happened and surprisingly, she
reprimanded me asking me to focus on my studies. “How insensitive!” I thought.
Hardly did I know that she was taking efforts to help them economically.
Another harsh truth that would beat me in the face, that truth was beyond what
was obvious.
Now, my exams were
fast approaching and the government having just the physics, chemistry and
mathematics scores to decide the cut-off for joining engineering colleges,
making the lives of students miserable. Joining any arts and science college
would mean that you’re a weak student. (No, these guys have a polished way of
telling that. Yes, you’re a late bloomer!). So, for parents it was a matter of
pride that their ward got into an engineering institution. But there are
constraints; for the date of birth at times could be as decisive as an extra
mark. Sometimes I felt that freedom was just there to be seen.
Slogging hard and
with God’s Grace, I managed to get a Material science and metallurgy
engineering seat in Alagappa College of Technology, Chennai. College life was
fun from the first day. I enjoyed it from day one. Between I would call up
Karthika and tell her how things were progressing for me. She would feel happy
for me. Sadly, things grew worse for her. She would often have heated arguments
with her brother and her mom. I would feel pained but at the same time proud
that a grown up tells me all matured stuff. Days passed and things were usual
but for the calls I got from Karthika every other day. This was a routine till
my first year culminated. Then the calls stopped. I tried calling her but the
number was switched off. I tried the centre’s number and that it was not in
use. Days, weeks and months passed but there was no communication. So I waited
for my third semester holidays when I could really answer my mind-pricking
questions about her. I needed to concentrate on my studies and so I suppressed
my worries about her. Thankfully, the love for my subjects saved me and I wrote
my exams with a lot of confidence. There were two metallurgy papers which
sucked some life juice out of me but being well prepared helped.
One week into my
semester holidays and I started to Udumalpet happily for I had cleared my
semester with 7.5 grade points. I visited my grandma’s place and started off to
Karthika’s house. I knocked the door and a middle aged woman opened the door.
“Is Karthika Madam home?” I asked her. “She is yet to return home” she said. I
showed her the mobile number of Karthika and asked her if the number was right.
She nodded. She didn’t invite me in. A tall, slender and serious looking chap
came out through the door whom I understood to be Karthika’s brother. There was
a loud silence for a moment or two when Karthika’s mom and her son faced each
other. I felt it was time for me to leave and took leave. Something didn’t feel
right. There were a thousand questions going off in my mind. Was she forcibly
married off to someone? Were those people her family members? I did see a resemblance in the mom’s face but
was this enough. While all these were breaking my head I had reached grandma’s
place. My mom caught the puzzled expression in my face. I asked about Karthika
and she told me that she had been recruited to a software firm in Bangalore and
that she wasn’t sure about the pay. I was happy that her talent was finally
finding its worth. Bangalore surely would mean much more exposure to her than
this small town. I felt happy for her. But why did that keep her from calling
me? I had no answer to the question. I somehow convinced myself that everything
was alright. When people go places in life they sure have the right to forget about
those who care about them, haven’t they?
The last two years of
engineering weren’t of any significance other than helping me finish my degree
and hand me a job (which I would never join). Having written my last semester
exams well I returned home for some quality time with my family. Two weeks had
gone by after my last exam. I had become an engineer with a 75 percentage
aggregate. It was a cloudy evening in the month of June 2010. My phone rang and
I was about to pick it up when I remembered that the use of mobile phones was
not advisable in cloudy conditions. But I couldn’t resist a call from an
unknown number. Now, I always had this nasty habit of imagining that the
unknown caller would be a girl calling to propose to me. So half hoping, I
picked up and said “Hello”. For a moment I was happy to hear a female voice at
last but recognizing it, I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. It was Karthika!
Apparently I was angry and I accused her of not calling me even once in the
last two years. She told me that things weren’t very good for her then and it
had taken her eighteen months to settle down. Then came the shock of my life.
She told she’d left home for making a living in Bangalore. She always knew how
to ward off my protests. Both her family members had turned hostile and to save
her mother of any more burdens, she thought it was best for her to do what she
had done. Well, this was a standard reply from anybody who’s taken a decision
of leaving her home. I knew my words would not move a muscle of her decision. Also
she said that she did not want to disturb my performance in my examination. I
could do nothing but accept whatever she said but that night I set thinking.
Exactly a month after
that phone call, I got up in the middle of the night. So many times when I was
really angry with things that were happening around, I would get a flash of
energy telling me that I.A.S. was my ambition. I would dismiss such flashes of
angry instincts as impulses. But today was different. I packed my stuff and
waited for dawn. Waiting for dawn is by far the hardest thing to do in
darkness. One thing I learnt from my past was patience. So I waited till
everybody awoke. My mom was shocked to see me packed and ready. I explained my
intent to her and she strictly refused to listen to any of my reasons. I let
her calm down and told her about my ambition of studying for the I.A.S exams at
a leading institute in Bangalore. My father protested too but I was firm. I did
not argue but stood my ground. Finally, everyone had to consent and so I
started my journey to Bangalore.
I was going to a
place where I practically knew nothing about. But I was going to meet Karthika.
I was going to suffer, yes, but I knew that I was moving towards my destiny.
(To be continued…)
APATHY
One of my teachers
remarked sadly, “There is no empathy among the youth of this generation,
especially those who live a comfortable life.” The genius of Albert Einstein
can be observed in his prediction that the future generation would deny the
existence of a man like Mahatma Gandhi. In the present day, they not only deny
that but also the bitter persecution of the Jews and the ruthless massacre of
the Sri Lankan Tamils.
Movies like
Schindler’s list, The Boy in Striped Pajamas and a score of others throw some
light on the pathetic lack of humanity of Hitler. People often use the term “Germans”
interchangeably with Hitler’s loyal henchmen which is a huge mistake because very
often the constitution of a country and the people who form the constitution reflect
and form the “image” of a country or a state. So even if the people have a
different opinion, it might never be known; the entire idea of democracy takes
a lethal blow from the whiplash of Prejudice. The same thing happened to the
British when it imposed its imperialism on India and the same thing happened to
a few states in the south of India recently where the people, who were so
called crusaders for their kind, sadly let down those who believed in them. But
what goes around comes around. The world will await the consequences of
mistakes, however big or small. The people of the countries where “passive”
crimes are committed because of apathy make sure their everyday lives serve as
an amnesia inducing drug.
Just like any
positive or negative vibe, apathy is also contagious. Accept it or deny it,
every person has a circle of influence, where that person’s opinion is highly
respected and valued. If one influential person in that circle is apathetic, it
spreads to at least to half of the group. This is most probably because the
human mind is built in such a way that it gets attracted to the negative shade
of anything first and only then it thinks of reason. The reason for that one
person to feel apathetic in the first place is most likely a comfortable life.
A comfortable life doesn’t mean a wealthy living because the meaning of
“comfort” is subjective; it means a “satisfied” life where one does not need to
empathize with a person who is suffering in a society to earn his daily living.
This reason actually feeds into the next which is a busy life. Thus a vicious
circle is formed from whose whirlpool one finds it difficult, or feels rather
reluctant, to come out.
Incidents like the attack
on the twin towers, the bombing of the former Sri Lankan President Chandrika
Kumaratunga are acts of terrorism on any day but the war on Iraq, the ruthless
bombing in Afghanistan and the remorseless killing and torture of the Sri
Lankan minority are acts of equal magnitude if not more. Perspectives make the
world a better place, for understanding those builds empathy. Speaking of
opinions, if one victim of the terrorist acts or the kin of the victims were to
read this passage, they would probably think that the guy who has written this
hasn’t got much to do: what would he know? Fair enough, do I have an answer for
that yet? No. Time solves all puzzles.
Very often in super
hero movies we have recurrent themes of being the bigger man. Spider man told
us that with greater powers one needs to become more responsible. There are
super powers in the world now and only when one yields power do we know if that
person can be the “bigger man”. Just like the British and Hitler back then and
the U.S.A. and Sri Lanka now, one will know one’s true colors only when one is
powerful. The proverb may be old but its message always rings true on any day,
“One always gets to reap what one sows”. Let us help our future generation harvest
food, not blood.
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
The Meeting
He was caught unawares
By surprise
Then slowly recognition
Widens his lips
Long time,
He seems to say
Both of their feet bare
They seem to enjoy
The moment of happiness
Ignorant of the eavesdropper
Furiously documenting their meeting
With the desperation
Not to lose the thought
In his head.
Train
I try, to listen
Time
When you’re gritting
Your teeth
The Inner Circle
I’ve tried, hard
To be part of your circle,
Your society but
Every time I think I get closer,
Your curled lips
And contemptuous eyes
Tell me I have no chance.
I’ve suffered everyday
Of perpetual insecurity
Because of your superiority
When I think about
What you think
I sometimes lose my self respect
What is it that makes you people
So “special”?
Sometimes I feel
You’d be naked without
Your haughtiness
I’ve had enough
Of Eliza Dolittle times
It’s high time I had some of my own, good bye!
Pain
You can’t sleep
Your legs can’t stand inaction
You’re shaking your head
Like you want to shed
Some bad dream
You want to cry
But the tears won’t come
You’re suddenly aware
Of all the love you’ve ignored
And you realize that the secret power
Of the strong
Lies in using this pain
To shape the ‘you’.
Her Voice
Your voice is
More like a storm
Doesn’t even
Give me
The time to cope;
I’m blown away
From the word go,
I’m flying now
My flesh vibrating
To your tunes
My skin can’t take it
But I can
This divine skinning-
Blood droplets splashing
On my face
Oozing out
Of my visible muscles
From everywhere,
My tears showering
The Earth
Like The rain.
I’m completely naked now-
No clothes, no skin,
No muscles and no bones
Only my soul
With its eyes closed
In bliss.
HER
I was lost
Inside my insanity,
inside those illusions;
You took my hand
and you said
you were real
and you were going
To lead the way
i tried to believe you
but at times
got scared stiff
to immobility,
you smiled my fears away
though i know
you cried in secret;
you loved me like no one could
i owe my life and being to you
my darling,
i don't know
what you saw in me
for i wasn't sure myself
I'm looking into those eyes
talking to you
without uttering a word
you let a drop
from your eye trickle down
i reach my hand
to your cheek unconsciously
strangely feeling my lip salty
we should've been staring
for a long time,
i tell her
"A lifetime!" she tells me.
The Wannabe's Love Child
In many ways, some moments in life are like a moment in the
loo-you feel like peeing, coughing and sneezing at the sneezing at the same
time. Bottom-line: You’ll have to make an awkard choice. And sometimes, the
proverb “Once bitten twice shy” actually doesn’t work when it comes to falling
in love. And the battle in your mind about the feeling in your heart and the
nagging doubt if it’s love or not doesn’t help clear confusions. It’s said that
sneezing actually kills some cells in your brain. It would be of great help if
you could help a sneeze kill some of your memories.
When all these
thoughts were flipping through the head of the twelfth grade kid who was
looking out the window of this class he called “file” (because of the structure
of the class and the rows somehow resembled of the leaves of the file.) his
teacher called out, “Vashi! Daydreaming again?” and about a split second later,
a voice screamed “Dad!” to splash reality on his pleasant reverie. “Why are you
screaming Shiro? It’s a hospital for God’s sake!” said Shiraja Karthik’s dad.
“Appa, the nurse’s calling your name for the fifth time!” Vashigar Karthik
silently stod up to follow his daughter into the consultation room of Dr.Namir
Sridhar smiling very faintly about his lucky number six.
After the pleasantries, Dr. Namir enquiringly said, “So?” looking
at Shiraja. She looked nudgingly at her father who was looking at her curiously
trying to figure out if it was her grandmother’s nose or her grandmother’s nose
or her mother’s nose that she had inherited. By the time his head turned to
talk to the psychiatrist, he had compared the color of Shiro’s eyes with her
mother’s and decided that Lakshmi Chidambaram had the brighter pair of eyes.
“You’ve come here for the third time, Mr.Vashi. You refusing to open up does
not help either of us. You are matured enough to know that your daughter is
really worried about you.” By the end of the statement, all Vashi had done was
comparing Dr.Namir’s bald head with Mr.Chidambaram’s. Mr.Chidambaram had the
same physical features of a bald head and a French beard as Dr.Namir did but
while the latter tried to understand what he was going through, the former did
not give a damn about his daughter Lakshmi’s feelings. The thought infuriated
Vashi so much that he accepted reality to quench the heat in his head. The eyes
were no longer dreamy, the lips no more agape, the teeth no longer visible and
the figure no more shaky. His actions happened so swiftly and sternl;y that the
pupils of Dr.Namir dilated a wee bit before letting a twinkle play for a
fraction of second and then replacing it by focus.
The doctor nodded
encouragingly while the patient leaned forward intently while his daughter’s
unmoving eyes followed his actions intently. He then started unraveling the
past, “I’ll not bore you with how beautifully my love story began and how it
went on to become a success story, almost, till this she-demon called
depression started to possess me” heaving to pause, having silence preside the
room broken only by the rustle of the calendar and the gentle stroking of a pen
against paper. “She was, no is a temptress and mistress built into one save the
difference that she possessed me.” Because I’ve thought of all the reasons
which have bade me come to this and I want to get my condition treated really
quickly, I’ll get on with the symptoms. Well, I think everyone has a weakness
which can be exploited by your dark side and mine was…” hesitated Vashi with
the air of a man who is just about making his mind up. “He’s addicted to
morphine!” said a voice which Vashi wanted to believe was Lakshmi’s but
realized it was his daughter’s. His face suddenly became grave and his heart
lurched with fervent hope when the door opened to reveal Divyarishi, Vashi’s
mother. “You know she’s married Vashi and she’s not going to come out of the
blue to save your back. Sorry for the intrusion doctor, I wanted to come. “said
Divya, as she helped herself to a chair. Vashi wondered what was ruder- the
thud of the door or the sudden dawning of what they called “the truth.”
Acceptance had never been his forte’. He wanted to be many things but he
believed he was a natural actor not only on stage but off it too. Many times
he’d felt on retrospection that his off stage acting was better. He wanted to
appease everyone who mattered to him and therefore twisted facts to appear
within the purview of their goodwill. Sometimes, he cried in silence ruing that
he couldn’t be truthful even to himself. Was he really living in denial like
Shiro pointed out so many times? He was scared, shit scared to face that one
question. He was sure that any answer would drive him nuts. He smiled wryly-he had come here because he was
nuts-well, at least a little. While he looked up his eyes looked moist and his
brain was fighting to put a mattress of smile on the naked sorrow on his face.
And then it started, the confessions, the memories about how they had
fallen in love, all the beautiful moments at the hangouts, how they made love
and how Shiro was a love child, yes, a love child! At this moment, he paused
and the three generations of the family wiped their eyes together. “It was a
shame to all of us-having a child before marriage! I had to accept moral
responsibility-he’s my son first” Divya sobbed, “well, that wasn’t the worst
yet; it was only the beginning. When they decided to elope they should have
bloody well got married. But all this neo modern attitude, is it? And, to top
it all, he still thinks he’s married!” she finished with some bitterness. “In a
way I still am” started Vashi while Shiro shot it down with an “and how is that?” look. Nevertheless he began again,
“When we decided that we were made for each other and lived together for that
one year, we really were married.” “And she left you when Shiro was six months
old!” protested Divya. “That’s because I had…” began a reply and “Bipolar
FUCKING disorder, yeah we know!” Shiro finished it fiercely. The fact that
Shiro had sworn for the first time in twenty three years almost tickled him
while the heat from his mom’s stare belted it out. “Well, both of you do not know
what happened between us during those six long months before Shiro was born
which included losing my job, my virginity and some of my hair in that order.
I’ve not seen in my head what I saw during those moments of hell, I’ve not
cried more loudly than in the bathroom of our tiny apartment in electronics
city and I’ve not felt more dead than I had felt in those six bloody months and
at the end I thought it better to bring this to a close one way or the other.
“It is a sin to commit suicide. You can do no more dead than you can do living”
said my mom. Also, I was too much of a coward to take my life. So all those
twelve days I felt continuously of suicide, which felt like years, I
hyperactively thought of some solution to the turmoil. Well, I never thought it
would come to that but that is what happens when you suddenly realize you’ve
got a brain when all you could feel was a heart, rather two. Then came the
worst part-pushing her away to a safe distance from me. No other girl could
have tolerated what Lakshmi did and I’m grateful to her for half of what I am I
owe it to her. And from the moment I pushed her away one part of me died and I
think it will remain so. But I will live for my mom and Shiro, for they’ve
always been there for me. My mom tolerated being spat upon behind her back by
my family. I now know what disgrace really means. For Shiro,” he continued,
brushing her hair with his hands and kissing her head gently, “I’ll live all my
life for you darling, for all that you endured because of my stupidity. I’ve
stooped so low that I have no low to stoop to,Doctor! Thank you for patiently
bearing with me in all the three sittings.” The three stood up handing the fees
of rupees 500 to the doctor. Vashi remembered Lakshmi’s birthday was on the
fifth but consciously removed it from his head.
At home, the doctor went to the bathroom and cried all his bad
memories down the drain of the wash. He knew his name was not Namir, he
couldn’t confess to Namir and he knew his name started with ‘V’.
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