Aug 31, 2010

The death of Santa Claus

On Christmas morning, after collecting their gifts from Santa:

"Merry Christmas, Shivam Bhaiya!" *hugs*
"Merry Christmas, Choti!"
"We won't get scolded for anything today, right?"
"What do you have in mind?" *evil grin emerging on face*
"Let's have chips for breakfast! Junk food for breakfast is the ideal breakfast."
"I love how food obsessed we can be. I'll go check in the kitchen. And we can put sauce on it, as we do with everything consumable."
...
...
...
"Choti!!!  *prolonged shriek* Come here right now!"
*running to the kitchen from the computer room where Choti was happily playing Lego Island*
"What happened? Are you all right?"
"Look what I found."
*points to the dustbin with around 30 Lays and Cheetos packets*
"It's chips! What's the big deal?"
"We got 15 tazos each as a Christmas present from Santa. Mom made us write to Santa asking him what we wanted for Christmas this year and we wrote that we wanted to expand our tazo collection so that we can exchange them in school. Do you really think the letter reached the North Pole?"
"If she said it did, then..."
"Choti..."
"You think so...?" *voice quivering*
"I think so."
"Nooooooooo. But this can't be! You mean to say that for the last few years, we've been tricked by your Mom and mine? But why?"
"I do not know. The minds of these adults works in mean ways."
"But..."
"It's OK, Chots. Jesus Christ might have been born on 25th December but Santa Claus just died."

What is 'it'?

If you hear its song, your day gets made.
Pay momentary heed to it, and then the thought starts to fade...

Aug 30, 2010

Reconnect

I feel awe, beauty, loss, confusion, simplicity. I feel reconnected to something I had lost out on for a while now. I feel at home with myself and with people around me. I feel a reestablished bond that had been broken for some time now because of distances. Distances that were bridged by man through technology. Then, he himself regretted having done so and wanted to go back to what he had destroyed. He thought that it would take him back in its giving arms, but there was too much to uncover before the arms could even be reached. Finally, he would succumb to the distance and live in that regret.

This was written about Rishi Valley when I was in Panchgani. It almost felt like I was back there. Almost.


Sunset: the connecting factor

Aug 27, 2010

A Frame of Freedom


                                          
To me, this photograph implies freedom. 
It was taken in Bangalore but it could have been clicked anywhere because this is an everyday thing. 
It happens all around us and sometimes, we even get to see this freedom up close, against our wish. 
Death is that release, that freedom that helps one let go of whatever you were clutching on to.
The false hopes. 
The norms of society.
The people who we don't want bossing over us.
The turbulent state of affairs in a country fighting for their independence.
Death frees all.
This 6-winged creature is free.
A cup of freedom, anyone?

In association with Blogadda: Frames of Freedom

Aug 24, 2010

Lonavla

Staring into this misty abyss,
The vast spreading silence excites me.
Feeling the shiver down the spine,
Experiencing the beautiful unknown.

The whites and the purples in the green,
The cloud encompassing us,
The raindrops falling on my skin,
An untouchable aura.

The beauty in the falling rain
Oh!It did move me.
Traversing the hills in the foggy morn,
In my mind, I had found peace.

Aug 22, 2010

Emoting

Emoting.
For some, it comes as easily as breathing. For some, it may be difficult but within the realm of possibilities. For a few, impossible and not even worth thinking about. There must be others who do not fall under any of the categories mentioned above and emote(or not) to different degrees..
I don't even know what I fall under. But I do emote. To a few people, at least.
Sometimes it may be a spurt of emotions. Sometimes a few words and a smile may express what I feel.
There was a time when I was even called 'overemotional' by everyone. But there were reasons. And I am glad that I could get all those feelings out of me then-in the form of conversations or tears or better still, poetry.
Then, music had become a means of self defense for me. An escape from the reality of things around. Though it may still act as that vent when I want it to, it has come to mean more to me...Much more than I'd have thought. Something I can't explain in words yet.
Today, however, for the better or worse(The answer to this would occur to me in the future when my present would be my past), I am not able to emote as I used to. I will no longer run to just any person who might be able to console me for those few minutes or who would, in all probability, pretend to relate to the emotions I was feeling at the time and provide a shoulder to cry on or just an ear to hear me out.
Now, there are very few people who I would go to when I want to be heard, who I would turn to for advice, who I would let in. This may be out of fear of being deserted or being judged. Or it might just be maturity and an ability to fight my own wars.
Or it is probably the fact that there is someone in my life who might not emote the way I do and who might not have even felt what I am feeling when I am talking to him about it, but he is there. No pretense. No lies. He comforts me, reassures me, shows me the brute realities of life, and just keeps me going. Just by being himself. And helping me be me...

Aug 15, 2010

Where I want to be

Under the gulmohur tree
Lying down on top of Cave Rock Hill
Reliving a carefree childhood swinging...
 . 
Home

Aug 7, 2010

Paint me a picture

Paint me a picture, show me all,
Use vivid colors but black for the pall.
The shades of red be extensively used,
Tone down the blues of its different hues.

Paint me a picture, show me all,
How our empire rose, despite the first fall.
Man, woman, and child, depict them true
The worst affected as the violence grew.

Paint me a picture, show me all,
Towards our enemies, we did crawl.
Bloodshed, hunger, fear and hate,
Are all that remains in this soldier's fate.

Paint me a picture, show me all,
Place it on my now bare walls.
Today, I may no longer be able to see,
But in it my son will be able to see my past, my glory.