Friendly bytes

No wind blows my lashes
No sunlight warms me up
All day these dancing bytes
Wave from my bedroom desk
A cold, soft ice pad
cools my tired eyes
And then I am back grabbing
Bytes as I write.

My inspiration

As I trod through shrubs and ferns
smelling the sweet, wet mud.
An inquisitive flower
bends down over my neck
and peeps down on my slate to see

Glancing at the sweet flower
Inhaling its sweet fragrance
‘You are my inspiration’ I say in glee
Stroking its petal'ed cheek

You are so soft to touch
So smooth is your skin
You dance at the rhythm
Of slow wind
In writing's, my joy you can see.

Word’ly World……

Pain in misery
Gain in beauty
go through life
Round and round
He splashes ink
and feels the misery
With extended curves
A new beauty
I find.

The words that connect
Those extreme ends
Make me think
in lazy times.
Seeing power of his pen
I can’t help
but post to him those
happy sighs.

He smiles,
I connect
We compromise.
his words have now
A new meaning
Half misery, half beauty
For me it’s fine
Will analyze it
When I have time

I walk ahead
A corner turned
yes, I too see a narrow path
and I smile to myself,
as

I step into
a cave that
have words
crawling, sliding
all over the walls,
some falling and
meeting the metaphors
on the floor while
others run
to meet the puns,
I pick them up and
swing them into my palm,
juggle them up,
one by one
shape them again,
Smoothen them
Leave them free
to express themselves on a
Blank slate

The words begin to dance
As love words embrace
The emotion words,
They rock and roll,
Twist and turn, up and down,
Intoxicated, with supportive,
Lively, lyrical words
The cave is filled with
laughter words and
giggling words
as humor doubles
on its knees
And then
suddenly
stamp upon
and crush some of those
rude words
and forget
to say
sorry, please..

Rude words join
with angry words,
they form a gang and
call their friends,
terrorist words, dacoit words,
killer words, confused words
all emerge from dark, deep crevices,
In huge rallies they walk across,
Abuses, tempers, flying high,
loud echoes resonating
noisy, destructive clouds emerges
surrounding me
suffocating me

I sit there immersed
In careless pool of words
feeling chained in,
helplessly.
try to break free,
but unable to move
trapped like a sardine
in quarantine

Seeing my confusion,
they tie me up and
drag me from the cave
to a open space,
pull me over
up the hill and
with a sharp kick
of a strong, bully word
in to my bruised butt
Push me hard
down the cliff.

Down, down , down
I see my body float
as I wake up with a jolt
from my hazy dream
of word’ly world.

Wordsworth's 'Daffodils' is all set to rap

During our last read-meet in Mumbai in March, while we were discussing the characteristics of a good poem, one of the writers drew our attention to the magic of William Wordsworth's words that has delighted generations of people across the globe. She spoke about how he describes the crowd of daffodils, "tossed and reeled and danced, and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake”.

200 years after his famous 'Daffodils' poem 'I Wandered Lonely as A Cloud' was published, it has been turned into a rap for the YouTube generation to reach new audiences and inspire people of new generation.

David Wilson, the Robert Woof Director of the Wordsworth Trust, said: "Wordsworth's poem, 'I wandered lonely as a cloud', always achieves very high ratings in any survey of favorite English poems.”It is a poem about the mind's growing awareness over time of the deepening value of an experience, in this case observing the dancing daffodils.

The new 'hip-hop' version of the famous poem and an accompanying pop video can be listened to and watched for free at Cumbria Tourism's website at www.golakes.co.uk/wordsworthrap.

The modern re-working manages to stay true to the original sentiment but with some slight variation of the lyrics. The video was shot on the banks of Lake Ullswater which provided the original inspiration for the poem, as well as around Ullswater Steamers, the grounds and gardens of the luxury Sharrow Bay Hotel, and Grasmere where Wordsworth made his home.

Mind your words!

A small liberty you take
And call it poetic license
You take those words for a trip
and they create lot of nuisance
It is not you whom I blame
It is these N(a)utty curves
They tickle these foolish nerves
And make us lose our senses
Unintelligent, enlightened,
Call them what you want
But hold them in your rein
Before they wander off…
...the fences.

hello.....Er....

I wrote self introduction- a meaningless rite
You gave it a rhythm and music bytes
The name that you had heard long ago
You failed to recognize in just one go
I want to remind you, but you don’t care
You can understand not what you hear
you believe only what is in sight
So, to get your attention
I write……

I am the boss

I find
my
way
through
the maze
of your
long list
of
meaningful
words.
I
gather
them all,
to tie them up
into a beautiful
bouquet
of a verse
to showcase
it all
on my
own shelf.

Do you recognize any of your pearls?
You cannot …….
Because
Now
They now have a new owner.

It's not a sin!

To steal and win is not a sin
If innocence was the cause

Would tell a lie and walk a mile
to save the truth from pain

Would kill a moron and not regret
If he/she deserved to die

Will forge a dream and wash it clean
It’s not a sin. Don’t preach!

I count my breath, upside down
Am I stamping on your soul?

I have my own goals to spin
Your sermons mar my moods

I am but Almighty’s tool
Through whom He plays His games.

No act is sin, there is no type.
It’s a perspective of your mind.

You break my heart, now hear me swear
Won’t match my smile with yours

I need for skeletons, an open space
Won’t lock them in shameful way

I write.....

I sit in a bus enjoying a ride
In comes an eunuch and plops by my side
I shift and squirm but he leans on me
I whimper and complain but don’t like fights
I fumbled into my bag for a defense tool in sight
I poke his ribs with my sharp pen and then....

I write…

Did you Like it?

I
go for a read meet,
take a seat, read my piece, wait for a clap or a pat on my back,or just a slap,
but get none.
only a glance, a rude turned up brow, a wrinkle on your nose or a faint smile,
but no sound at all!
Come on guys! You like my read?
Does this remind you of a bee that danced with glee when burned by a hot coal?
Or,
Is this like our big blue boys who are back by air without a goal?
Hey man!
Say,
yes or no?,
or else
I
go back to write some more that pleases your ears and mine.
This piece
If
you want I can fold it and dump it back in to my bag
and then
come back,
next time,
with
one more?
Can I?
Speak up man!
Can't you hear me?
Huh?

Play that music for me

Can you hear the birds sing?
They, like me, rejoice
Your fragrance replaces
These gloomy moods
So glad to see you again

Wipe that tear off your eye
I am not in too much pain
Sing me that note of other day
Make me feel divine

Strum the chords of love once more
Strum it like you used to
Play that music soft or fragile
Tune me to your moods

To this silence, pay no heed
Pain can rest for a while
Bandaged eyes can hear well
Sing away these blues

From your fingers, let notes escape
Let them walk all over me
Strum the chords of my soul
And hear my heart reply

I am bamboo-ed on to my knees
But my heart dances tonight
Play that music, hum that song
Let silence go to sleep.

Why don’t carpenters use their brains too?

Carpenter who has been carpenter all his life should be an expert! That is what I believed!

My computer cabinet had one glass panel broken and needed a replacement. I met this carpenter, whom I have been seeing since last 25 years, and thought maybe I should ask him to do the needful.

“Come to my house at 11.00am, I have some minor job for you.” I told him politely

At 11.00am sharp, this carpenter stood, grinning at my door. Wow! This carpenter is punctual! I took him in, to my computer cabinet and showed him the glass door that had come off the hinges. The corner end of the glass had chipped off and fallen off the hinges.
He told me that it was an easy task and it would cost me only Rs200.

Rupees two hundred required for just fixing one panel of glass to the cabinet? Gosh! He is as expensive as the visiting doctor! But do I have a choice? If it needs to be fixed, it has to be fixed! It was important to cover the cabinet with glass to prevent my precious machine from getting dirty

I agreed to dole out Rs200. Expertly he looked at the glass, turned it 180 degrees and decided to use the same glass at the other end to the hinges. He told me that he needs to take the panel to the workshop to smoothen the corner that had chipped off, justifying the ragged end might hurt my hand. Okay! How thoughtful!

At 12 noon, he was back from the workshop, proudly showing me the smoothened end of the corner that had chipped off. He sat down to fit the glass to the hinges. He unscrewed the hinges from the cabinet and tried to figure out how to insert the glass into the hinges.

The hinges to hold glass have a u-shaped opening through which the glass is inserted and the other end can be nailed to the cabinet. There are two types of hinges, one can be attached to the side of the cabinet and other type can be attached to the top-end and lower-end at right angles to the cabinet.

The hinges that were attached to my cabinet were designed in such a way that they will hold glass in its u-shaped opening and the other end has the plate that can be nailed to the side of the cabinet. He tried to insert the glass inside the u-shaped opening, but the glass was thicker than the gap in the hinge. He decided to broaden the gap by inserting the screw driver into the gap and hammering it. Boom! The hinge split open and broke into two pieces. He looked apologetically. He would have to go to the hard ware store to buy new hinges. This would cost me another Rs150.

Rs150 for a new hinge! Are the hinges so expensive? He reasoned that they were available only in pairs and they were made of brass, very durable. Very durable! He just broke one! I handed him Rs150 and off he went, shopping for hinges.

At 2.00pm, he was back, but with the different type of hinges, these had a plate that can be attached to the top and bottom end at right angles to the cabinet. He had toured many shops but the kind that he had just broken was not available in any shop. Therefore he had opted for this another type. The problem that he found out, when he sat down to work, was that this kind of the hinge was that this type of hinge can be attached only to the bottom end of the cabinet; it could not be attached to the top end, because the top end was the drawer that moved and held the key board. (I would expect an experienced carpenter of 25 years to reason this out before buying this type)

He now decided to use the new type to the bottom end and the old type could be attached to the side of the cabinet at the top end. Since the glass did not fit into the u-shaped opening, he decided to take the glass to the workshop to scrape off the thickness of that end. (Had he thought of this before he would not have broken the hinge, nor bought a new pair of hinges!)

At 3.00pm he was back from the workshop with one end of glass pane scraped to fit into the hinge. Oops! As soon as he inserted the scraped end into the hinge, it broke. The end was scraped too much! I would now need to buy a new glass panel that would cost me another Rs500! (Why must I pay for his clumsiness? I am not allowed to punish the poor? Moral ethics! Indeed!)

At 4.00pm he is back with a new glass, this time half centimeter smaller than the original size.

He tries to fit the hinge on to the cabinet at the top side of the cabinet, exactly the place where it was screwed before. But since the glass is half centimeter smaller, it does not fit!

Unscrews, screws, unscrews, screw Voila! The job is finally done. But there is a small crack on the new glass panel too! Phew!

What is a Sin?

To steal and win is not a sin
If innocence was the cause

Telling lies is not a sin
If it saved the truth from pain

To kill somebody is not a sin
If he/she deserved to die

We are, but, Almighty’s tools
Through whom He plays His games.

Let’s live our life always on guard
Avoid bruising souls of folks

Don’t break a heart or smash a skull
Match smile with a smile.

Let’s live a life in humility
No Ego, Lust or Greed

But still if you can forge a dream
It is not a sin, don’t scream

Skeletons need an open space
Don’t lock them in shameful phase

No act is sin, there is no kind.
It’s perspective of your mind.

We don’t grow wings on woman’s day

She shrieked with pain
From his showers of blows
One, two, ONE,TWO
Fash! Boom! Doom!
Then Black out!

Anything to report ma’am?
Said the officer.
Nothing! Sir!
I missed my step.

Same story repeated
year after year
across the continents
dipped in tears

Women go unrecognized
Just a few are cheered
success is for those
who are loud and clear


Why do you treat women
As property of man?
Essential are both for balancing
equal parts of a clan.

Circumstances of cobbler and judge
are clearly different
But equality of a human,
cannot be different

So why punish women for their sex?
Under sun, we share
same bandwidth
and strengths

Man chooses to be cruel
towards his fellow man
And when he's done
Turns towards the woman

Demonize, Punish, Humiliate
She who cannot or will not protest
Being oppressed by someone
For being the "weaker sex"


Give us power and our rights today
We don’t grow wings on woman’s day
Not for once in a year, at a time
We need to celebrate everyday of our life

Cute Baby

Waah!

Pure Joy!

that’s what you are.

You smell of a rose

in wet, smooth skin and

cool, soft breath

With warmth,

you fill my world and

paint my life with glow

you move

as if you run

with these soft, small toes,

Once more,

Ouch!

you have kicked my nose,

And then you give me that sweet grin?

Oh babe!

I love this smile

Come on,

let me hold you,

this is no time to cry

Ouch!

Ow! It hurts!
Press or rub
Balm or oint
Touch and feel
Pain is here
Be gentle,
Don’t laugh or
Gloat at me
Sniff! Sniff!
You don’t know
How much it hurts
No!
You may never know
Coz
It’s me
Not you
who is hurt.

A Card from ump!..hmnn!..gulp!...Sunil?

Every Sunday, Sheela aunty would check her mail box. The rusty mail box, in the centre, middle row of the mailboxes, at the entrance of the apartment’s lobby, was hers. She had a small key, hidden away in deep pocket of her purse. She had neither time nor interest to open the box everyday. What was the need any way? All it contained, now days, were the promotion offers and junk mail. Sunday was reserved for spring cleaning, attending to odds and ends and sorting from such junk mails for some discounts and offers at the stores and supermarkets.

Combing her grey and black hair with her bony fingers, she wriggled it round to form a bun, and sat down on an easy chair to sip a cup of coffee. “Lemme see, wat offers dey have, dopar ko kuch shopping-hopping ho jae?” she mumbled as she slowly and carefully, stretched to pick the bunch of papers and envelops from the centre table.

‘Zap!’

She looked at the colored postcard that had slipped through the pile of sheets onto the floor making that soft peculiar sound.

“Hai Rabba! Yeh kya hai?’ she mumbled as she bent down to pick up the post card. ‘Oh God! What is this?’

“Wah! Kya tasweer hae! Lovely! ” she mumbled as she saw the card. ’Wow! what a picture’

She flipped the card around to see a name of the sender

“Haey, yeh kya? Kaun hai? Sunil? Yeh Kya mazak hae?” she grumbled as she looked in my direction. ‘Oh what’s this? Who is this? What Joke is this?’

I looked up from my books, in her direction, to meet her gaze, irritated by her loud grumbling. She beckoned me.

“Kis choree ne tumhe yeh card beja hai? eh? bolo?” she said as she flagged the card in front of her. ‘Which fellow has send this card to you? Tellme?’

“Oh no! Aunty! Is that for me?’ I said as I jumped from my seat and ran to grab the card from her to examine it.

The scenic beauty captured on small, two by four, glossy, post card was astounding! The snow covered mountains, a cable car, masked people, dressed from head to toe in body suit, gliding through the wavy path, snaking down the tracks, balancing their trip with long poles. The scene brought back those beautiful memories of long time ago, of my trip to Switzerland with my school friends during Christmas holidays.

I flipped the card to see the name.

Neatly scrawled was the phrase ‘Wish you were here’ and signed ‘Sunil’

‘Sunil? Did I know any Sunil?’ Oh yes! Now I remember! Maybe, it must be that SuniL with dimpled cheeks and fair skin, who would smile and go blinkblinkblinkblink every time he would see me. How sweet of him to remember me on his trip. Or..ump…it must that Sunil, the one with long hair and pimpled skin. Oh! How I hated his hair band. Who ever heard of men wearing hair band like that? Ugh..I hope it is not him. Er...Er…Mmmn…lemme see….I think It must be that Sunil, the one I had met at a party, last year. My friend had told me that he lived abroad and was just visiting Mumbai for his holidays. We had spoken briefly, nothing personal, but yes we had talked over the cup of coffee…but did I give him my address?..umph..!

“Kis choree ne tumhe yeh card beja hai? eh? bolo?” My aunt repeated, almost screaming now. When my aunt roars, she resembles a ogre, who has just come out from a deep sleep!

“Sheela aunty, this card is from Sunil, Sunil uncle, don’t you remember Sunil uncle? The one with whom you had played a game of Bingo? Don’t you remember how he let you win the game, wohi Sunil uncle, Yaad aayah?” ‘remember?’

“Haey? Sunil Uncle?..I don’t remember anyone of that man.. aey Rabba..kaun ho sakta hai?.... kooch bhi kaho, par card bada sundar hai…..hai na jaan? Who can it be? Whatever you say, it’s a beautiful card. Isn’t it so, love?

Be my Valentine.. No, No,….Nah!

Geeks!
Foolishly, wagging their tails,
On bare anatomy, drooling,
Under pretensions of being cool!

Duffers!
Senselessly, fishing senti,
love, meaningless words
into verses that drown them
into tear pools!

Losers!
Sans brains, flushing
hard-earned dollars on
Chocolates, gifts, flowers, parties
that swing them on their
Butt on zero cash!

Yawn!
Excuse me! Nah!
It ain’t for me!
On Valentine day
I shall grab a sleep!
Zzzzzzzzhmn!

Table for three…in a library.

“Hey Anu, Rohit needs help in Algebra, will you teach him some basics” Said Samira, brushing back her double-colored locks from her fair skin with the tips of her long fingers. Sameera and I would spend most evening together. We would gossip, laugh or simply be in each others company.

I was flattered. Rohit was older to me by 2 years and he wanted to learn Mathematics from me?

“Yes, Of course. Why not?” I was most eager to help.

“Oh! You are a Gem! Rohit will be so happy. You know, he finds Algebra, a boring subject and he really cannot concentrate. Maybe, if you show him some shortcuts and some easy methods, he might show some interest in mathematics and score well. Let us meet in the college library, tomorrow evening. Will that be fine?”

“Yes. That will be fine. Five O’clock then. Meet me in the library.”

“Oh no, you come to my house first then we will go together. Mom does not trust me. She never believes me if I tell her that I am going to the library in the evening. Maybe if she sees that I am going with you, she might not make such a fuss.”

“Well…er….okay.”

I couldn’t believe that Rohit wanted to learn mathematics from me. Rohit, the handsome young man, I had noticed in the college canteen sometimes, when Samira and I dined in the snack bar. He would often greet us and sometimes have a cup of tea on our table. Always well dressed, he wore a gold wrist watch and branded clothes and behaved like a Hindi film hero. In fact, the girls jokingly referred to him as ‘hero’. I wondered if he had ever noticed me. I mean in that special way? I wondered if he liked me and was just making an excuse to know me.

I stayed up late night to revise my algebra, jotting down some important formulae. I desperately wanted to impress Rohit.

Samira and I waited for Rohit at the far corner table in the library. We were busy browsing through the stack of books when Rohit came and sat next to me and opposite to Samira. The strong smell of men’s perfume tingled my senses. I felt the blood drain though my face as I fumbled to open the algebra book.

“Let’s start from the very beginning.” I stammered as I spread the worksheets and books on the table.

He smiled and looked closely at the worksheets. He stretched his arms across the table and his finger brushed softly against Samira’s arm.

“If x equal 2 and y equals 6, then x plus y equals 8.” I whispered, once again, as I adjusted by gold rimmed specks.

It had been over 15 minutes since I had started my tutorials. I was losing my patience. I was continuously distracted by their restlessness. It started with a soft brush of his fingers against Samira’s arm, then, it had been the locking of their fingers, then, a soft chuckle, and now they were playing footsies! What am I doing here? Teaching algebra to this duffer? Oh Gosh! Sameera had used me to spend some time with her lover? No wonder! Her mom doesn’t trust her! What do I do? I felt the blood drain through my face, again, but this time for a different reason, I was embarrassed. I looked around to see if anybody else was watching me, the escort to this lovey-dovey meeting. What will be their next move? I mentally measured the dimensions of the table. It was big enough to accommodate two people in an uncomfortable position. What if…What if...they lose control? What if…they decide to spread in front of me on this narrow table? Will I have to find my algebra worksheets from the pile of clothes in my lap?.....Damn!

“Sameera! You Idiot! How dare you take advantage of me?” I wanted to shout. I contemplated going behind book shelf to push the shelf from the other side with all my might. Let all the books tumble and fall on them. I will suppress a grin if two bare bodies would rise from the debris of the books and loose sheaf and take a bow from the confused readers in the library. But what if they get hurt? The shelves were made of teak wood. Oh no! I can’t possibly do that!

‘Or maybe, I should sent SMS to Sameera’s mom, and invite her to come to library and witness the scene.’ I thought as I fondled with my cell phone in my pocket. This one time, I would relish the surprised expression of her mom and her loud voice that would resonate within high arcs of the library. Sameera and Rohit would then pledge never to visit the library again. But what if, her mom blames me for deceiving her? I had requested for her permission for Sameera to go with me to the library.

What should I do? Think! Think! I must think before it’s too late!

‘Er..ummph….Rohit… hmmn…listen..Samira….I need to go for a minute….er…. be right back!....okay?” I said, as I faked a forced smile.

I quickly left the library and disappeared from the college grounds into the crowded streets of Mumbai.

Jaipur Re-Visited.

I remember leaving Jaipur very long, long ago
When I was too young to understand many things

Too young to understand how painfully the rickshaw puller
cycled out the weight to earn his decent living,

Too young to understand how good it feels
the soft and cool sand beneath my bare feet.

Too young to recognize that loving, careless whisper
of the neighbors meant that they really cared!

For many years, I longed to re-visit Jaipur.

Many opportunities came and went But a reason
to visit my birthplace never really came.
.
Though traveled the world across the seven seas
But waited and waited…For a special treat

And finally ….the day arrived.

Jaipur Literature Festival was a good excuse indeed.
Although no talent for writing, I proudly packed my bags.

Going to writers’ meet, I declared,
to hone my writing skills. Indeed!

Social meets I attended, famous speeches I heard,
but in between those meetings, few moments I grabbed

To visit those lanes and palaces and markets and alleys,
The pink city was truly a wonderful treat.

The ethnic mural paintings on the express highways,
The colorfully dressed native in different earthy shades

A colored-stone embedded peacock on a roadside fountain
those hand painted lamp-post in the middle of the streets.

The tasty pani-puris at every corner shop
A hot fried kachori made of spicy dhal

An assorted Raj thali at famous Choki Dhani
hot and sour briyani at every dhaba stall


Those drums and folk music and a native song
with six- tiered matkas they performed a balanced dance

Those shopping lanes they called it ‘Bazaars’
crowded with shoppers big and small.

Colorful skirts and shawls bed-covers and wares
lined the paths from stores it stared.

For hours and hours I walked those lanes
Every single trinket attracted my gaze.

I re-visited the people, the house and the lanes
Emotions, love, and feelings were all the same.

Amazing! Amazing! Amazing.
Oh My Gosh!
I wonder why I took so long?