**The story so far: The poet loves tea (obviously)! He falls for a one who always spills what she sips (and his love too suffers a similar fate)! Then he woos someone who neither savors tea nor his poetry. So another romance meets its eventual doom! (Parts one to five posted on sulekha as well as my blog site, but reading them is quite unnecessary for savoring this)! Now the poet has agreed to mumma's insistence on arranged marriage, and read on to see what ensues!**
She walked in, carrying a cup of tea,
A bone china cup, served exclusively
(For our parents downstairs were discussing weather
And we were ordained to meet and know each other)
A sweet smile flared on her face, dimpled
A soft breath stopped in my lungs, waivered
And as I sipped her shy glances so sweet
My heartbeat danced to her giggles, upbeat
I saw my past misfortunes wither away
And it seemed, I was reborn that day!
"You don't drink tea?" I had upasked to kick off dialogue
"Love it absolutely" her words resounded like an epilogue
"But I had two cups already during the endless wait"
I simpered, "Oh! Really the traffic jam got us late"
Her eyelids danced with some unknown naughtiness
Only my sips spoke, everything else was speechless
I was too overwhelmed, she seemed such a delight
I was savoring each drop of her present plight
Her hands were all tangled and bangled and so pretty
And her flushing both charmed and aroused my empathy!
Suddenly we both burst forth into words together
And our silence disappeared into peals of laughter
She turned the tables, told me she knew my friends
And had heard of my many poetic romances as legends
Ah! I smiled and mustered a somewhat witty explanation
"Oh! Those real life experiments of my creative aspiration!
Hmm! Since you already know, do know all past is but a myth
Though like in tea, where taste of leaves, shrubs does persist
But in being rejoined with milk and sugar its sweet, reborn
As a married man, trust me, I will be a different song."
She knew, ah she knew! She knew of her who always spilled tea
And also of the one who drank nothing, oh! nothing absolutely
And she knew of my past, my poetry, my predicaments, my passions
And had researched all this to judge beyond the first impressions
While I had walked through her door, unprepared, quite circumspect
(Failed romances taught me arranged one was an excellent prospect)
She had, as if, rehearsed the whole conversation in her mind
And was reassuring herself with whatever answers she could find
An hour later, we knew, we knew we would see each other a lot more
But life, oh life! We ne'ver knew what awaited us outside the door!
****
One and Two are at
Read more
And three, four and five at the bottom of the page on
Read here
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Whats going on!
Whats up or Whats going on is a hit song of Four Non Blondes (this song is often quoted example of one hit wonders)
Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
And I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man
For whatever that means
And so I cry sometimes
When I'm lying in bed
Just to get it all out
What's in my head
And I am feeling a little peculiar
And so I wake in the morning
And I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream at the top of my lungs
What's going on?
Thats precisely my question. Whats going on? Grand ambitions have been asked to be patient, to live a hibernating life as I prepare for the spring of my life. Where is this spring, when is it going to arrive? Or have I already let the spring pass unnoticed while I was busy making other plans? While I read through black dots dispersed on endless pulp of intellectual miasma, I can hardly hope to become a champion of new discovery, new light, new hope, new poetry. The passions within have had a charmed life, unfulfilled they seem to prosper in the grotesque celebrations of my dreams, and when they seem to close enough that I may touch them, I feel a vague rebellion within. If I were to be a hermit, I could have doomed myself into darkness in search of some glow that would rescue me from my own hollowness, my own solitude. My self finds solace in continuous distractions, though maybe the reality is that I am living a life where distractions are epicenters of joy and activity. What is truth, what is beauty, what is knowledge, and why must I care about any of these? Why must I deduce, derive, deify, why make determined efforts, why engage in any pursuits whatsoever? Why must I rise or fall in love, suffer the sweet pain of pining or bitter joy in meeting after parting? Why must I bear the idiosyncracies of people I call friends, and why must I have friends, enemies, companioins, soulmates and why must then I have to bear envy, jealously, need, craving? Who am I?
I am nudging myself to move on, making choices that will alter the course of my life, what is the course of my life anyways? What difference would it make if my novels and poetry die a natural unpublished death, like several of my research ideas that are too poetic, too dreamy, too quixotic to be realized in my lifetime? What difference would it make if I married someone for love or married my love to let the time make differences grow till we become bitter and part? Why must I sound optimistic when all my life I have found shortcomings, underachievements, lack of miracles, sufferings and comprimises? Why must I believe in something when I am not sure of its existence?
How does it matter if my tastes don't match yours? You and I are just two pinions in the infinite cycle of birth and death, if there is such a cycle, if soul and mind have any meaning, if we are no worse than the creation of a supercomputer trying to find the meaning of everything or maybe the wired creations that run the matrix for extraterristials? How does it matter? Does it matter at all?
What is happening these days? What am I upto? What are my hopes and dreams, where are my likes and dislikes, what is driving me or not driving me in a proper way? Where are you, if you are anywhere? What is wrong? Is anything wrong? Whats going on?
Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
And I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man
For whatever that means
And so I cry sometimes
When I'm lying in bed
Just to get it all out
What's in my head
And I am feeling a little peculiar
And so I wake in the morning
And I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream at the top of my lungs
What's going on?
Thats precisely my question. Whats going on? Grand ambitions have been asked to be patient, to live a hibernating life as I prepare for the spring of my life. Where is this spring, when is it going to arrive? Or have I already let the spring pass unnoticed while I was busy making other plans? While I read through black dots dispersed on endless pulp of intellectual miasma, I can hardly hope to become a champion of new discovery, new light, new hope, new poetry. The passions within have had a charmed life, unfulfilled they seem to prosper in the grotesque celebrations of my dreams, and when they seem to close enough that I may touch them, I feel a vague rebellion within. If I were to be a hermit, I could have doomed myself into darkness in search of some glow that would rescue me from my own hollowness, my own solitude. My self finds solace in continuous distractions, though maybe the reality is that I am living a life where distractions are epicenters of joy and activity. What is truth, what is beauty, what is knowledge, and why must I care about any of these? Why must I deduce, derive, deify, why make determined efforts, why engage in any pursuits whatsoever? Why must I rise or fall in love, suffer the sweet pain of pining or bitter joy in meeting after parting? Why must I bear the idiosyncracies of people I call friends, and why must I have friends, enemies, companioins, soulmates and why must then I have to bear envy, jealously, need, craving? Who am I?
I am nudging myself to move on, making choices that will alter the course of my life, what is the course of my life anyways? What difference would it make if my novels and poetry die a natural unpublished death, like several of my research ideas that are too poetic, too dreamy, too quixotic to be realized in my lifetime? What difference would it make if I married someone for love or married my love to let the time make differences grow till we become bitter and part? Why must I sound optimistic when all my life I have found shortcomings, underachievements, lack of miracles, sufferings and comprimises? Why must I believe in something when I am not sure of its existence?
How does it matter if my tastes don't match yours? You and I are just two pinions in the infinite cycle of birth and death, if there is such a cycle, if soul and mind have any meaning, if we are no worse than the creation of a supercomputer trying to find the meaning of everything or maybe the wired creations that run the matrix for extraterristials? How does it matter? Does it matter at all?
What is happening these days? What am I upto? What are my hopes and dreams, where are my likes and dislikes, what is driving me or not driving me in a proper way? Where are you, if you are anywhere? What is wrong? Is anything wrong? Whats going on?
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Remembering Somebody!
I love it. The way you chew
The gum. Drooling occasionally
It makes you look cool. Supposedly.
Your tan is great, sexy and dark
And I absolutely love your swims
As your shinky skin spread over stream
Shimmers in the delicate sunlight. Awesome!
Your soft calls, oh! I understand them
So well, after all these years, I do
I really, truly, surely understand them
Your soft calls are voices of need
To them I surely ought to pay some heed
And yet you always seem to find
The grass is greener on the other side
My dear buffalo, I am surely amazed
How shallow you are, how you lack any pride!
May 10, 11 pm
Q1 What were you thinking while reading first 12 lines?
Q2 Who were you thinking about?
Q3 Does reading again help:)?
Ah! It was so much fun writing this one:)!
The gum. Drooling occasionally
It makes you look cool. Supposedly.
Your tan is great, sexy and dark
And I absolutely love your swims
As your shinky skin spread over stream
Shimmers in the delicate sunlight. Awesome!
Your soft calls, oh! I understand them
So well, after all these years, I do
I really, truly, surely understand them
Your soft calls are voices of need
To them I surely ought to pay some heed
And yet you always seem to find
The grass is greener on the other side
My dear buffalo, I am surely amazed
How shallow you are, how you lack any pride!
May 10, 11 pm
Q1 What were you thinking while reading first 12 lines?
Q2 Who were you thinking about?
Q3 Does reading again help:)?
Ah! It was so much fun writing this one:)!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
When you hold my hand!
When you hold my hand, my sweetness
The gentle warmth of your blood
Trickles through my veins
And fills my heart with love
That shall pulsate in it forever!
When you hold my hand, my precious
And touch it softly with your lips
The moist stamp of emotion
Dries, leaving a cool fragrance
That fills my world with happiness!
Monday, May 2, 2005!
(This is what I was thinking while I was supposed to be struggling with a nasty take home exam!!:) I guess we all are reminded of our Gods and demons during our exams:)!!
The gentle warmth of your blood
Trickles through my veins
And fills my heart with love
That shall pulsate in it forever!
When you hold my hand, my precious
And touch it softly with your lips
The moist stamp of emotion
Dries, leaving a cool fragrance
That fills my world with happiness!
Monday, May 2, 2005!
(This is what I was thinking while I was supposed to be struggling with a nasty take home exam!!:) I guess we all are reminded of our Gods and demons during our exams:)!!
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Na jaane kyun!
Dil mein halki si, mithi si
Khalish si hai
Na jaane kyun!
Nainon mein boondein hai,
Lab pe muskaan si
Na jaane kyun!
Tum chupsi bhi kah gayi
Maano daastaane kayi
Na jaane kyun!
Saath thi, phir bhi shaayad
Akela hi tha
Na jaane kyun!
Kehte kehte ruk gaya tha uss din
Ruswaiyan kai
Na jaane kyun!
Nasha bhi akarta hai aur hosh bhi
Hai haal-e-dil aisa
Na jaane kyun!
Koi vaada na tha kiya aur phir bhi
Karta raha intezaar tera
Na jaane kyun!
Tum nahin meri par naam pe tumhare
Mujhe kissi ne pukaara lage
Na jaane kyun!
Likhta hai vivek jab bhi
Aah si uth ti hai
Na jaane kyun!
Mujhko bhool jaogi nahin
Poochta hun tumse yahi
Na jaane kyun!
Sajaa ke preet ke gulfaam bhi
Rehte hai kavi tanha hi
Na jaane kyun!
***********
aashu kavita (written just now, one go)
Midnight, 2 May, 2005!
yeh imtihaan ka hafta hai phir bhi
likhta rehta hun sher kai
na jaane kyun:)!
Vivek
Khalish si hai
Na jaane kyun!
Nainon mein boondein hai,
Lab pe muskaan si
Na jaane kyun!
Tum chupsi bhi kah gayi
Maano daastaane kayi
Na jaane kyun!
Saath thi, phir bhi shaayad
Akela hi tha
Na jaane kyun!
Kehte kehte ruk gaya tha uss din
Ruswaiyan kai
Na jaane kyun!
Nasha bhi akarta hai aur hosh bhi
Hai haal-e-dil aisa
Na jaane kyun!
Koi vaada na tha kiya aur phir bhi
Karta raha intezaar tera
Na jaane kyun!
Tum nahin meri par naam pe tumhare
Mujhe kissi ne pukaara lage
Na jaane kyun!
Likhta hai vivek jab bhi
Aah si uth ti hai
Na jaane kyun!
Mujhko bhool jaogi nahin
Poochta hun tumse yahi
Na jaane kyun!
Sajaa ke preet ke gulfaam bhi
Rehte hai kavi tanha hi
Na jaane kyun!
***********
aashu kavita (written just now, one go)
Midnight, 2 May, 2005!
yeh imtihaan ka hafta hai phir bhi
likhta rehta hun sher kai
na jaane kyun:)!
Vivek
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