Sunday, October 21, 2012

Adulterated





Jack and jill,
went up the hill,
to fetch a pail of weed,
jack fell down,
and broke his crown,
jill with no weed,
wasn’t a friend indeed,

so, jill in need,
of some weed,
went to his friend jhony,
whose father was ronny,
so father ronny asked son jhony,
hey jhony,jhony,jhony,
yes papa,
smoking again?
no papa
open your mouth,
jhonny looked at jill.
and they both ran saying
hahaha hahahah hahaha hahaha

They had friend named humpty dumpty,
who sat on a wall,
they asked him to pass the ball,
but he had a great fall,
three scored men, scored a bit more,
but couldn’t put humpty as he was before,


so they went to a baba,
and asked him,
baba black sheep,
baba black sheep,
are you carrying any?
yes son yes son
three bags not many,
one for my master,
one for my dame,
one for the little boy,
who fell from mountain..
one from the hill is our friend jack,
he has sent us to pick the pack,
so baba gave them four,
and they scored more,
they laughed and sang like a clown
London Bridge is falling down,
falling down, falling down..
London bridge is falling down..


Thursday, October 18, 2012

THE BOAT


A boat sails quietly, moving into glory,
glory makes us beautiful,
beautiful is the violin,
violin makes me cry,
crying is a child, one who is hungry,
hungry is the river in which there is a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

a bell sounds a prayer,
a prayer is pure,
pure are the friends,
friends are in the pictures,
pictures are from dreams,
dreams are captivating,
captivating is the sound,
the sound comes from the boat,
the boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

papa gifts a car,
car honks a scooter,
a scooter is paddled,
paddles get broken,
broken is an old chair,
chair comes from wood,
wood makes a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

a baby drinks milk,
milk from her mother,
mother is the daddy of all,
all are innocent,
innocent is the smile,
smile is from memory,
memory makes us travel,
travelers are on a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

ace is not always the ace,
ace is sometimes a joker,
a joker plays a guitar,
guitar sings a song,
song sings the notes,
notes are the guide,
guide is a sailor,
sailor was sindabad,
sindabad the sailor,
sailor sails the boat,
boat makes us travel,
travel through the woods,
wood gives a boat,
boat makes a sound,
sound is captivating,
captivating is the picture,
picture is of a boat,
boat is in the river,
river shoulders the weight,
the weight of a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving in to glory...

The Earthen Pot


My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it,
Don’t be angry, let it make the noises and all,
He is hungry; also don’t try to feed it with your stuff,
I will myself bring water to my thing,
Please don’t put your drink in it,
My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it.

I don’t have a place to keep it,
It will roll down like this on the road somewhere,
For it is the only way to grow,
It will learn, let it go,
I know it’s a little ugly, a little deshaped,
But that doesn’t mean you have to hate it,
My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it.

It was so innocent before, don’t know what has struck him,
Now doesn’t take in any drink pure,
Well who is the culprit?
Me who couldn’t take proper care
Or you who always fed my pot with bad air,
Go away you, and smoke else somewhere,
Addiction is getting to it,
My earthen pot is empty…well let it be.

Oh no, oh no, see what you just did,
Once only I thought of not mentioning it, and you kicked it,
Can’t believe you have broken it into pieces,
Ok deshaped, but it was my earthen pot,
Please pick the pieces carefully, it might hurt him,
Its no longer empty, it’s no longer thirsty,
It’s no longer hungry, it’s no longer, it’s no longer…
I can’t believe he is gone now, I am left all alone,
My pot, my earthen pot is gone,
Don’t stop me, let me cry, let me scream,
I am sorry my pot,I couldn’t feed you,
I am sorry my son,I had to kick you.

Monday, October 8, 2012

I AM A STONE PELTER



Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr………..


Welcome to my world, you call it your paradise we call it Kashmir instead,
Welcome to my world, what you see is pink, I see is all red,
What you see is a drop of dew, I see that of a tear,
What you see is silence of peace, I see is fear,
So if stone pelting is ‘attack’ in your sense,
Actually is an art of defense.

Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr...

Come visit my land, enjoy its snow, enjoy its mist,
Don’t fear from me, I am from Kashmir but not a terrorist,
I see my pictures being published, my act being taped,
But I also see my sons being killed, my sisters being raped,
Where do I go, whom do I doubt,
For peace in valley, oh man, how loud do I have to shout.

Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr...........

Whose building have I bombed, whose fields have I flooded.
But my buildings are bombed and my lands are blooded,
What do u think I throw stones at, with whom do I share this occupation,
No it is not the police nor it is the army, its INDIA the so called nation,
And what more, my act is not one sided, we perform the imbalanced duets,
I throw stones at them and they hit me with bullets...
Today I had no work, so thought of writing this to you,
No it is not just a message, it is a stone fired at you...

Call me whatever, whatever..........

Sunday, July 22, 2012

inni and penny



This goes to you inni,
and this goes to you penny,
penny u always hated me i know.,
ini always liked penny somehow,
maybe because she was with her since before,
she gave her cars rides and trips abroad,
but then i loved inni and penny fell further away,
inni loved me back but penny kept coming back from bay,
I and I-N-I rolled like pebbles,
ate flowers slept feahers,
life became beautiful,
and the glass was always half full,
but then some turns have trucks coming,
ini failed me without warning,
cuz she had finaly fallen for penny,
penny won another battle,
made me look like a cattle,
i am sorry ini,
will not have mini,mina and mo together,
but u will have them for sure,
but please teach them no penny is too many,
and please atleast let penny keep loving you,
even if it goes few,


Thursday, April 12, 2012

Nine Months



you are there;
inside my womb;
I don't know how you look;
the way they show in the book;
or a tiny tadpole as per the sonogram;
or a round small stone as it feels.

I cant wait for you to come out;
but you will make me wait long;
they keep counting months;
but I count days;
whether it be my diet control(or no control);
or my frequency to the loo;
I keep waiting for you.

now you have grown inside;
still without a face;
ten pair of tiny fingers;
and other tiny organs paddling up the race;
don't panic my baby,hold on, just stick;
as you already do,whenever in need just kick.

the day has arrived,it all looks difficult;
how will you be here,looks occult;
I am nervous honey,I don't know how to do it;
just take care,don't hurt yourself on the way.

FINALLY-

you are here in my arms;
nothing is silent now,nothing looks calm;
sound-sleep nights are gone;
oh I am so glad that you are born;
I check your silk;
and realize you are crying for milk;
I miss my maternity clothes;
I miss 'us' as both;
as I look at those pics;
I realize no one is inside me;
no one moves in,no one kicks!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

UNDER THE BRIDGE

.


Mumbai is a city of magnified spectrum.If the elements of this city (which
are the parameters scanned under the spectrum) were vectorized then Mumbai would result to a null.


Shaina,a fourteen year girl lives here,somewhere in the city.Who knows where.Despite the fever she will go to work today,because she is hungry.So she puts up her pain behind and moves towards her office. She is standing at the traffic signal waiting for lights to go red so that she can start her work.Her office is the the traffic signal.She is a beggar by profession,and lives near to her office,right under the bridge.


So in sickness she starts her routine,approaches a woman hidden under her sunglasses,stuck between the leather belt and music from the music player of her shiny long new car.Shamelessly Shaina demands money.She looks through the pane with pain,with her lips demanding money and eyes demanding a ride.This is the part she enjoys the most,looking through the glass of various such cars she realizes how life is at the other end,how life is inside a car, how calm things are at the other side,how rich is the fragrance inside (which she can smell with her eyes).She realizes how vectors on the other side of axis behave.


HONK-HONK,light is green,the car is gone carrying her reflection on the shiny door,carrying the image of a vector stuck at the axis which is a mark of separation.Her reflection tries hard to go inside the car,but fails when car stops at the other stop where another Shaina or sunita or vinita or kavita is looking through the axis.


She is hungry,tired and sick,but keeps moving from car to car,auto to auto,and it starts raining,the rain of Mumbai celebrates her hunger with a little drizzle at start and then thunders later.Within an hour whole Mumbai was drenched in rain,and so was she.She was wet from top to bottom,her wet clothes were nothing less then a window to her age,though some men opted for biology instead of mathematics in their head.
Her fever has gone high now,and the shiver is picking its pace,plus the window made winds able.



At last Shaina comes back to her place,where she lives or where she sleeps,the place used by many for a walk,the place used by many for a smoke,the place which is less than a place to many but more than a home for her,the place is under the bridge.To her misery and disappointment she finds her blanket cum mattress wet with water which leaked out of infamous Mumbai drains.Now she is hungry,tired,cold,and with a high fever with no place to sit,no place to sleep,no place to rest.Her hunger is changing to anger,the weak vector is directionless,and it can collapse any moment.There was a sound of thunder,dark clouds getting together and laughing, nature knows it own ways of expressing sarcasm.Then there was a captivating sound from a mosque where a muezzin prayed for wellness of everyone.Between the thunder sound and muezzin's prayers there was a small unheard sound, a sound of a crack, a sound of hunger which came from inside Shaina's stomach. The void was yawning.


She manages to sit on an elevated stone and looks up at the tall building nearby where she can see a lady enjoying a cup of tea and the rains at her balcony,probably she is having a wada pao too,or a bread pakoda,or samosa or even if she is having a muffin,she was having a wada pao or bread-pakoda or samosa.Who knows what was she eating,or even if she was eating anything or not,but in someone's head she surely was eating a wada-pao or a bread pakoda or a samosa.


Shaina utilizes all the energy she is left with to stand up and walk,walk towards the building where the lady is standing at her balcony with wada-pao shaped muffin.She reaches the building and stands right beneath the balcony hoping for the wada -pao to fall down from that lady's hands,hoping for lower floors beneath the balcony to vanish,hoping for her hand to increase in length,hoping against hope,against hope hoping!


There were stairs,there were lifts,lifts were expensive or thought she,stairs were not or thought she.She opted for stairs because she had no money.


The bell rings,the lady with wada-pao opens the door,Shaina stares at her hands,there was no wada-pao,lady asks something,shiana answered nothing,lady again asked something Shaina shiveringly expressed something which the lady could not understand.Lady asks her a last time what she wanted..."kya chaeye?"(what do you want?)... "mala bhook lagle ahe"....."mala bhook lagli ahe" (i am hungry)...lady shuts the door close..Shaina had lost it all,she had almost given up the fight but for last time she again rings the bell.



Door opens,same lady comes out again,again without the "wada-pao",again asking her the same thing,again speaking in the same tone...everything was same except one,Shaina said something else this time "kaahi kaam milnar kay" (Will I get some work?)......"kya" (what?)......."kaahi kaam milnar kay"........this time the lady found it difficult to close the door,something stopped her from ignoring the girl, something made her smile back,she asked her to wait...Shaina waited,with a blank face, with thunders and azaan making perfect music which further decorated her wait with desperation.The lady gets back with a plate of daal-chawal and offers it to Shaina,for whom the only visible thing around was that plate,she forgot everything around her,she stopped feeling everything that she was feeling before,she just felt a snake biting her stomach from inside

.

The moment was very painful for the lady,the moment was best for the girl,the moment made one feel sorry,the moment made one feel happy,the moment made one see the world beyond food and pleasure,the moment made one see pleasure in food,the moment was witness to two opposite feelings,two opposite worlds,two opposite vectors,one lived over the bridge one lived beneath it,one enjoyed the rains with the food,one enjoyed the food with despite the rains.