Haiku #4

Dreading the day
When I would describe us
In past tense

The Red Dress

The red dress

With strappy laces

Going along the bend

Of my delicate neck

The red dress

With block print

Long and slender

Along my limbs

The red dress

Accompanied by

Brass earrings

That go ching ching

The red dress

Curly hair falls on it

Along the neck

Covering my dark skin

The red dress

And time of dusk

Birds flying home

Sun setting behind the buildings

The red dress

Black kohl framing big eyes

Matching red lipstick

French manicured nails

The red dress

Waiting for compliments

That redirect towards

Those under thirty girls

The red dress

Posing in anticipation

Of a text

“You look stunning”

The red dress

Demanding her

Pamper me, pamper me

We go to the salon

The red dress

Enters the dinner table

Blush berry sangria

And a friend’s fears for company

The red dress

Hails a cab

At about midnight

Covers up her chest

The red dress

Looks in the mirror

Falls in love

With herself

The red dress

Is off my skin

Tucked in bed

In the company of dreams 

Travelogues of a manic depressive girl in Sri Lanka

Crazy in the morning
Spirited in the afternoon
Calm at sunset
Sleepy by night

As the window changes scenery
Her mind changes moods
Beaches to hills to wildlife
Her mind is rough, sunny, hot
Then cool, chilly, frozen
And then it pours!

She goes upstream, then downstream
With the current, against the current
Drifting, drowning
Ebbing, receding

The high tides of her mind are dangerous
She dresses, undresses, over dresses
And then she walks in her night gown

Slow like the elephants of Pinnawale elephant orphanage
Helpless like the albino turtle of Kosgoda turtle hatchery
Mischievous like the squirrel that loves fries in Mirissa beach
Indomitable like the blue whales of Mirissa; blowing air
She needs to come to the surface to breathe  just like those whales

She is deep like the oceans of Hikkaduwa
Violent like the waves of Kogolla
And then blue like the beaches of Bentota

Smashing like the mighty Devon waterfalls
Transient like the tea leaves of Nuwara Eliya;
Morose like the noise of the car engine on the south Srilankan highway
Blushing pink like the magnificent sunset
Stubborn as the rock of Sigiriya
Calm as the Buddha statues in every street corner
High maintenance like the precious gem stones
Old world and arty like Galle's dutch lanes
Attention-seeking like the cat in Negombo

She is Sri Lanka
Lanka is a mirror
Sri Lanka is a million emotions that converge
Like a tear drop in the Indian Ocean

The Cultprit is the Victim and the Victim is My Mother

Mom says; "you have to have love to give it"
And that just says it all

What if there was a machine
that manufactured love
what if you could buy it in weight
what if you could hoard it and create inflation
what if you could store it in pots
Sow it in land and grow it

What if there was abundance of love
So much love that it needn't be a trade
so much love that it would rain
if you could give it without receiving it
if you could have it without deserving it
You could weight it and it would feel light
Sow it and it would grow
What if there was as much love as the ocean

Love is the strongest currency
But i am a pauper who sold her gold
I beg from strangers
Because those familiar
Are paupers too
and begging in another bowl.

Reflection

Where should I look for my reflection, 

Instagram, Twitter or Facebook? 

Should I look at my camera roll 

The books I read 

My email subscriptions 

Or my desktop wallpaper?

Should I see it in the choices I made

My job, my marriage?

Or the accidents that happened in life 

My friends, my old lovers, my roommates 

Should I see it in my salary slip 

Or in the food I order

My choice of poison 

My brand of cigarettes

The color of my nail paint 

The tv shows I watch 

Where is my true reflection?

Certainly not in the mirror 

Tainted by conventional wisdom 

Should I go stand by a river 

And stare in silence 

Ponder in peace 

About my existence? 

Is my identity only my marriage 

Or do I deserve my own story 

Can I not have a dichotomy

Or should I pretend it doesn't exist 

How do I stop a storm in my brain 

Pretend I am completely sane 

Do I bury my desires in the name of morality 

Or do I take every chance in my one life to live 

I chased your shadow when I was with you 

I chased it when I was single

I can't stop chasing it until

The shadow breaks its silence 

Is it a mind trick to stop thinking 

Or to make the heart stop beating

Kundera said life is light 

I don't want to let go 

Some dead ends can lead to a golden stream 

If we have the courage to dream 

And break down the red brick wall 

That stands so stubborn and tall

I tried fighting those questions

That's what I see in my reflections 

Questions, so many questions.

The story of a depressed alpha male (prologue)

Casting a shadow over himself, 

He hides in the shelf, 

'Come out, come out'; she calls, 

Unheard behind those walls

Stuck in a bell jar

Is a black hole that was once a star.  

Fall and Rise

Before leaving for Ladakh I had  a strange feeling that I might never come back. I was afraid that AMS or something else could take my life. That is why I actually made it a point to meet everyone before the trip – mom, dad, Shruti, Tarka (the drive through the rain), Avadhoot, office gang, of course my husband, and even his friends. I was sad that I couldn’t meet my sister but we spoke on the phone.

In Ladakh, our gang of 13 strangers went to the confluence of the Indus and the Zanskar rivers. Indus is India’s pride, all vegetation and life is presumed to thrive on the banks of Indus while the Zanskar flows all the way into Pakistan. We decided to go rafting in the Zanskar river. We got dressed in river shoes, body suits and life jackets. The leader rafter; Sanjay, gave us safety instructions before starting. He asked if anyone has done rafting before. Few had; including me. I said I had done rafting in Kolad. He said that Kolad is a warm river while Zanskar will be freezing. Zanskar has whirlpools which can pull you in while the rapids in Kolad are not that dramatic. Sanjay’s safety instructions included information on what to do in the following conditions:

When you fall from the raft – hold the rope encircling the edges of the raft

When you fall few feet away from the raft – look up at the sky to stay afloat and the raft leader will pull you up by holding your life jacket from the shoulders

Someone asked what if you fall and drift 10 to 20 feet away from the boat; he said; “good question!”.

He explained that in that condition he will throw a rope and one has to catch the mouth of the rope; which has a solid handle. He will pull at the rope to get the person near the raft and then the same rules follow: look up, hold the rope and he will lift you from the life jacket.

Now we were off on our rafting expedition. We were on 2 rafts; 6 in one, 7 in another. Sanjay was in the other raft but we had a younger leader. The first rapid was massive. It shook us right, left, up and down but we stayed put. After that there were no rapids for quite sometime – only beautiful landscapes to behold. Suddenly our leader spotted a whirlpool and started screaming –

Row forward! Get in !

Before we knew it, I was no longer on the raft. I was in the Zanskar river! Our raft had inverted completely!

I tried to recollect the safety instruction 1. Look up. I did that. I was atleast 19 feet away and going farther way from the other raft. I cried for help. Sanjay threw the rope and thank god I caught it by its mouth. I started pulling the rope and going ahead. Then I remembered safety instruction 3. Keep holding the mouth of the rope. So I held it back again and signaled him to pull. He pulled me and I reached near the raft. Phew.

I immediately held the rope tied to the edge of the raft.

Behold! Just as I was about to be pulled to safety another whirlpool pulled me into the water. I told myself to look up. I came out of the water gasping but I did not let go of the rope.  Sanjay asked me to close my mouth or the water will go in. Then in one powerful stroke he pulled me up. I was safe. I didn’t speak for 5 minutes and then I screamed; “guys, I am alive!!”. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were all under the raft which was completely inverted. Luckily, they all held on to the rope on the edge or to someone’s jacket. One by one each of them were pulled up by our raft leader. Sanjay saved me first as I was alone and then went for the rest of them. All this happened in about 5 minutes. Thankfully we were all safe. The raft leader of the other raft managed to set his boat upright. There were 2 boys in canoes, also helping us out. The rest of the rafting journey was a beautiful and peaceful one. Once the rapids were over, people jumped into the water too. Everyone admired my presence of mind, calmness and bravery. Even the instructor said that most people panIc in this situation but ‘aap bombaywal hain’. He felt glad that I caught the rope. I am glad too! I felt really special. I feel extremely lucky to be alive!

I feel more courageous after Zanskar. Having been brought up to fear and be cautious, I felt a whole new liberation. I also thanked God, the universe and Budha for this experience.

Marilyn and Kennedy

She was impulsive in a self destructive manner
But he was self destructive in an impulsive manner




disclaimer: views expressed are the author's imagination.

Accidental Rendezvous

 

I ask god for one chance encounter

An accidental rendezvous

Maybe in a flight

Or an elevator

In a meeting room

Or a waiting room

A tryst

A truthful confrontation

A surge of emotions

Controlled exterior

Uncontrollable inside

Questions answered

Truths revealed

Love requited

Thirst quenched

Maybe in the rains, drenched

Maybe in the snow of faraway lands traveled

Stuck together

Accidentally

Alone

For a day

Or maybe just 5 minutes

But 5 honest minutes

Looking each other in the eye

Not lying

Not denying

Not hurrying

Nor worrying

Not waiting for something to happen

For it is happening in that moment

And then the place, the time

Become insignificant

Time stops for those 5 minutes

Maybe time goes backwards

And starts all over again

Will we make the same mistakes

We are star crossed fools

We will probably make the same mistake again

But we didn’t regret it then

We won't regret it now

Will you smile, will you cry

Will I rise, will I fall

Will you look at me differently?

Now that time has passed

And I am better, and I am worse

Will you recognize me?

Will I look at you differently?

Will you become nothing?

Or will you still remain everything

One accidental rendezvous

Is all I ask for.

The Confirmist And The Escapist

You are a conformist; happiest when you've made everyone around you happy. 

she is an escapist; happiest when she is dreaming.
so how does a conformist make an escapist happy?
you let her escape.

What happens after she escapes?
she floats,
blissfully unaware of the harsh reality that surrounds her
and you protect her every time her dreams are knocked down.

Scratching the surface

He looked at me once before leaving
I asked: what do you feel?
He said: a combination of love and irritation

Have I forgotten to rhyme?

Have I forgotten to rhyme..

A shameless crime

Do I only write

For the twitter followers

Do I only vent

On the internet

Am I always conscious of the number of likes

Of the hits on my blog?

Have I forgotten

That audience called the little lines on my notepad

The cheer-leading adrenaline in my mind

The pen, the prose

The emotional overdose..

The secret lines

clandestine

the scribbles, the doodles..

the chipped corners of my crayons

the unopened box of acrylic paint

the unwritten rustic paper pad

bought from the hinterland of a small town ..

am I a slave to the laptop..

or a corporate shark..

with a lost cause

chasing the effigy of an effie

and hunting the lions..

the business class seat

am I a beast

no, I haven’t forgotten to rhyme..

I still have time..

Still own a fresh notebook..

A pencil that needs sharpening

A head that needs clearing

In a city that needs space

In a country that needs a cause

Fleeing men that need a chase

Trying hard not to think of

The mom with a multitude of faith

And the father who will never give up;

And toss in bed till he finds another way to support

A drowning ship

That on the surface

Looks gigantic and charming..

Not shivering in the cold

In the Bermuda triangle of hope..

Trying to find a way back home

Home, where is home.. ?

Home?

tell me something

Mom: Archu, tell me something...

Long pause....

Me: Yeah?

Mom: That's all. tell me something.

For Your Rowing Pleasure

The river runs wild. The river runs for miles. I stand at the edge. Contemplating. The life jackets are piled up. The helmets dumped. They pick their safety gear up as I stare at the river.

A patch of calm blue interspersed with foamy white, surrounded by green everywhere. I pick up my paddle and row. Row, says the guide. Row forward.

Feet locked. Fear felt. Heart on the sleeve. Craving for adventure. Invitation to the waves to come hit me. Hit me hard and break my bones. I will worry about drowning tomorrow. I will calculate the depth of the water some other day. For now, Come waves come.

And then they come. From everywhere. A splash here. Shrieks everywhere. Water gushing in. Adrenaline gushing out.

The river is mine. I am rowing. With the currents. Against the currents. Amidst. Within. Inside. Around.

Time Travel

I was not born with you, lying by my side
I have not seen you, untainted by sins
I have not been bewitched, by your innocence
Nor have I played hopscotch with you in the sun.
If only, I was born with you
Lying by my side…

Yet we met, entwined together
By two families, steeped in tradition
Yet we met, immersed in ignorance

I knew not who I was,
When I was made to know you
We grew together
I was I, you were you
And we slowly grew, I followed you
You carried me, and we walked together
I knew not who I was,
But I found me through you

It began with respect
Lest our memories forget
How you held my hand
At the crowded bus stand
Knowing that I had you, made me strong
I never felt alone, because you walked along

Your head arched on my shoulder
I trembled, you held on
Your silence was our song
After 11 years of marriage
On June 14th I knew
That I am in love, with my husband

We embraced each other’s folly
We rowed against the river
Until responsibility became a necessity
And I knew that there is no life
Without your voice seeking me
Every morning, even if for a cup of tea

Children bred, shared our bed
Saw them growing up
Grew up with them
Fought battles, saw truth
Tainted by wisdom
Wrinkle lines grew
Your receding hairline
My grey hair;
The fountain of youth
And castles in sand
Blurred with time

That last vision of you
Resting in your arm chair
Passing in peace
The curtains swaying in the wind
Are etched in my eternity
Stubborn against fading memory

The grandchildren have only heard stories
Of how Dadaji was so legendary
Sometimes, when I look in the mirror
I can feel your presence behind me;
And when the children ask me why
I powder my nose before I go to bed
And smear my wrinkled lips red;
I tell them, that if Dadaji comes in my dream
I want to look beautiful for him.



(based on the true story of my friend Sahar's grandmother)
Image credit: Salvodar Dali's Persistence of Memory 

Why we 'were'

The lego blocks are stacked
Haphazardly so
The little boy is proud
Of his little edifice
But he isn’t smiling…
The little girl is quiet
She puts her first block…
The children don’t know
How to build the blocks together.
The boy all of a sudden
Snatches the girl’s blocks
And the girl starts crying.
The boy is surprised
He thought they were finally playing together.
He looks at her tears
And starts playing alone again…
The teacher wonders:
When will my children
Learn to play with lego toys…

We are but two children
Playing with lego toys
Building our blocks
But not one on another
Your words the first block
Mine the second
But not one on another
But distanced apart
Like two kids in a classroom
Who haven’t learnt to play together
And whose teacher is yet to teach them
How to share their toys…

Lego blocks will become concrete buildings
Strong, unperturbed, silent in the storm
But with no window to each ether
Like twin towers that do not know
They have a twin.

Guesstions ?

“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903; in Letters to a Young Poet

haiku #3

Scrambled thoughts that tremble,
fade in the jungle,
of broad day light

haiku #2

words that kill
showered over a coward
who wanted to smile in work hours.