the partial sunbeam

*Squiggles!! =)

2009-06-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

the blog picture,

is actually one of my favourite doodles..

(drawn during Sattvikaji's Geeta Darshan class.. - this one's for him)

i close my eyes..

2009-06-16T06:34:00.000-07:00

i close my eyes,
to live in the pain..

when soft from the skies,
falls the rain..

now i can walk,
without hiding my face.

i sit on a rock,
to feel the wind's embrace.

the rain merges with the tears,
the storm outside, matches whats within...

my palms facing the rain-bearing cloud,
hoping to be pulled up by it, into it..

how i'd love to fall upon and wash away,
pain like this, from another's life..

i wonder...

2009-06-13T01:22:00.000-07:00

will there be a storm,
with howling winds,
and torrential showers,
when you come.. .

will the earth separate,
with molten lava
swirling at your feet,
when you come.. .

or will the mountain peaks,
lift their heads higher,
and roar to the world,
that you have come?

maybe, the trees will march,
with creatures of all sizes,
in the parade,
on the day of your arrival..

i wonder, if the brooks and streams
will join hands,
and create a wreath,
to welcome u with..

i wonder,

whether this lil flower,
with petals so tiny and blue,
that just fell into my hands,
is actually you..

------------

(for Shivakumarji - Sri Aurobindo Society)

impossible as it may seem..

2009-06-13T01:06:00.000-07:00

impossible as it may seem..
wake up from this reality in your dream..

you think every door you turn towards, slams shut in your face,
within you, you're clogged. Empty of space.

your own thoughts launch attack upon attack,
very soon, all you begin to see, is your own black.

shaken, rattled, out of breath,
you start experiencing a non-existent death.

the world, it seems, is waging a war against you.
like torturing you, is all every one's here to do.

withdrawing into the deepest realms of nowhere,
fortunate were you, to hear that voice, amidst such despair.

feeble. weak. unimposing. liquidy almost, did it sound.
but you knew, you were home. your conscience, you'd found.

the clatter and din,
caused by your sin

seemed diminutive, all of a sudden
in comparison to that tiny voice within.

it squeaked, from beneath the debris of your broken self
chided you. reminding you, that unbroken is yourself

that way it has been, is, and for eternity will be,
to the lock that you're in, said it, this is the key.

a hundred advisers, a million 'well-wishers,' couldn't do to you, what that little voice did,
it unleashed the stream of power, rid the misconceptions behind which you hid.

every bud, each ray of sunlight, the glistening drops of dew,
now seem brighter, for a reason you can't construe.

and you walk past doors, open or closed,
your thoughts more gentle, leaving you composed.

attacks, wars, torture now choose to flee,
above it all are you, when they see.

impossible as it may seem..
wake up from this reality in your dream..

.................

the song...

2009-05-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

there aint a silver lining

on every cloud..

the road aint smooth

all along..

the leaves are bound to fall

as they dry..

the tears are gonna show

whenever you cry..

will untie the strings..

break the bars..
spread my wings..

and reach the stars..

this moment..

i'll seize it.

make it mine and

make it shine.

****

(for Aniket)

once more

2009-05-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

break that tie.
slash that knot.
crash out of the bottle.
before you die.

watch that hand.
deceptively accurate.
countdown.
to the last grain of sand.

it's all a mad race.
achievement.
accolades.
adulation.
make space.

loving hate.
steal the show.
cracked ceiling.
find that trait.

linked chain.
metal.
line of control.
favours.
gentle words.
screw your brain.

hamster wheel.
round.
round
round.
jam.
stuck.
fixed.
round
round
all a blank reel.

defense mechanism.
retort.
regress.
day dream
delinquency.
and over again
multi coloured prism.

scram.
beat it.
all that's left.
is a tiny bit.

run.
so far
now
don't prod.
the healing scar.

yell.
gently shed.
mask on.
see the bleeding red.

rebel.
it's only.
solely you.

one of us..

2009-05-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

as she walked down the street, she took in the pattern of the pavement tiles - how they were joint... she'd step out of her way, to crush a dried leaf, to kick a pebble.. and occasionally step down from the pavement, onto the road, to avoid an uneven surface.. the wind was strong.. filled her loose shirt.. as though it was a sail, pushing her forward.. strands of her wavy hair, gently slapped against her face..

she stopped walking.. something must have caught her eye.. she tucked her hair behind her ears, and bent down to smell a flower, growing from a crack in the wall.

2009-03-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

he slowly put one foot down, and then the other, as he tried to get up from his bed. one could have heard his muscles and joints creak in pain, if they stood close-by.

he got up gingerly. almost as though he were preventing himself from losing balance. it took the man a full 2 minutes to get from his bed, to the rocking chair by the window. a distance of 15 meters. he let out a loud sigh as he allowed his raddled body to sink into the Swedish Gungstol. a six legged 18th century beauty. one that had been passed on from generation to generation in his family, right from his great, great grandfather's time.. sitting in his favourite chair, he looked down at the street below.. the back and forth motion of the rocking chair, causing him to catch glimpses of what was happening just below his window each time he came forward.

of lines and walls...

2008-12-17T08:51:00.000-08:00

heaps of them..
them, and of lines and walls..
strident, clangorous recalls..

embroiled, entangled with Them!
them wretched emotions!
them miserable thoughts!
cry the skies and oceans..

suppression? expression..
it's what you make out of it..
take it as it comes.

leave it as it goes.

*Memory's Kiss.

2008-12-08T01:57:00.000-08:00

..as i rummage through those memories
i can see me running around in the open space..
leaning against a stone pillar, i look at those trees.
a tear finds its way down my face..

i stroll through the passage,
walk up the royal staircase..
gingerly touching the banister..
i sit down.. unable to leave this place..

through the arched window,
for years on end did i see the bustling street below,
i see myself in the distance, on that street..
looking up at me..

i peek into the old library..
the comforting shelves and spaces in between
smile when they see their reflection in my watery eyes..
the quiet fan rotates noisily to welcome me..

i run down to the sand-pit..
and climb to the top-bar of the jungle-gym..
I'm the queen of the world i am.
all over again..

i plonk myself onto the race-track..
to find myself surrounded by lemons and spoons..
and batons and sacks..
the vacuum.. i want to go back..

i look up at the old bell..
the saving grace when the boring ones droned..
my ribbon still tied on its rope..
i embrace it.. thinking it more alive than most people i know..

my eyes glisten with tears as i stand outside the office..
where you sculpted what i am, out of the miserable lump of dark clay that i was..
i see my artwork pinned up on your board..
and imagine my letters in your desk drawers..

i walk into the room which most never wanted to enter..
but it's the room where i was groomed, and packaged..
so that i could be sold to the most difficult customer..
that being me..

i sit on your chair..
and feel a rush within..
as i see myself walking up to me,
to say thank you.

i run towards the terrace..
three floors up..
i know the way..
inside me.. i walk through you everyday.

i stop at the door.. n sink down to the floor..
remembering all the times i came here to do what I'm doing now..
weeping hard...
i run my finger over the words I've etched into the stone wall..

words I'd never say to anyone..
something I'd never feel again..
so i trace every letter..
almost re-writing those words..

how i wish.
how i wish.

how i want.
to be etching those letters for the first time round..

walking out slowly..
all these images form a soft, dense cloud..
the atmosphere in and out, almost holy..
having swam through all of this, my heart pounding loud..

more than once have i wished,
for my arms to be long enough to wrap around you..
no more is that needed,
for my heart is what you have kissed.

agony sometimes.. ecstasy other times..
silence somewhere.. in the realms of cacophony filled thoughts..
i find solace in you.. because of you...
coming closer to you, i will continue to pursue..

--

(for my first love - J.B. Petit High School for Girls)

Dying. The day worth living for...?

2008-11-28T09:33:00.000-08:00

as i trudge up education..
as i walk towards career..

as i see responsibility at the horizon..
as i listen to all that advice..

as i sit by my diary, my canvas, my mind..
i wonder about the place in which i lie confined..

winding my way to or through
family.
friends.
teachers.
colleagues.
''others''

i think about things that go beyond

the general classifications..

as i lie here,

the newness of this silence

stirs up noisy thoughts..

between all that joy,

and much sorrow..

through all that work

and scarce rest..

with them, without them,

surrounded by things which are mine,

and things i want to make mine..

i look out the window

and suddenly i know...

all that i'll ever own..

or possess..

all that i'll ever be able to make mine,

is Now.. this moment.

and it's a lot by itself..

so much so,

at times i feel it's so much,

that i don't know what to do with it..

a moment.

small and diminutive it may seem...

taught me

that i was dying.

a lot of us die,

before we realize

that we're alive..

and capable of living..

that moment...

small and diminutive it seemed on arrival..

defining and sacred on departure..

as it nudged the next moment to ask me:

is dying the day worth living for...?

like i need you.

2008-11-19T08:01:00.000-08:00

yeah.
so you decided to walk out on me.
after years of being together,
and ranting about how perfect we are,
to anyone who was ready to listen.

u came to me with little or nothing..
i gave u all that i could.
in return,
you taught me...... .

i now realize why you made this scrapbook.
with all our stuff in it.
not so that you can flip through our good times..
but so i can weep holding that book.
not because i need you anymore..
but because the child we're holding in those pictures does.

you came to me with little or nothing,
i gave you all that i could..
in return,
you taught me...... .

like the images in his picture books,
you are now the picture parent,
in the storybook of his life.. written by me.
he's already begun pointing at your pictures,
wanting to know where you are...
he waits expectantly for an answer,
that's non-existent.

your departure couldn't have been better planned.
running away like that..
but i have a right to know. i do.
did you just wanna get away from me,
or was there another.. ...?

those wounds, those scars,
on you, that i helped heal..
are reopening on me..

you came to me with little or nothing.
i gave you all that i could...
in return,
you taught me..... .

at times i did wonder,
about whether he loved you more....
but now it kills to know.
he sits in your chair
and sleeps on your side of the bed.
coming to me only if he hears me sob.

i hope that you're happy.
after all this....
and don't come back.
because.
you came to me with little or nothing,
i gave you all that i could.
in return, you did me a favour.
you taught me...

how never. to love again.

.

black in white in black.

2008-11-15T02:44:00.000-08:00

ebony black ivory white,

when mixed, produce a grey fight,

contained in black is whiteness so pure,

the virgin white has in it, the black to endure.

a ray of white illumines the black,

a spot of black stains the white,

black if you look back,

up front is white light.

gyrations made by silken, soft white,

sculpt the coarse lump of black...

steadily penetrating into the white,

black makes its slow attack.

leaping into the darkness, so black,

flees white, spreading light,

making attempts to grasp it black draws back,

for despite its blackness, it can view the magnificent sight.

bit by bit,

the white reflects the black in it,

dances divinely the flame in black that's lit,

so white, so pure, that it makes my black submit.