Tuesday, March 09, 2004


Sweaty Saturday late afternoon,
and I’m in a strange city,
going to the airport.
It’s been a lousy day.
My presentation had gone bad.

I had also prayed for a
chilled beer in the afternoon, before
the presentation. It hadn’t happened.
And then the presentation
had to bomb…

To add to the hurt,
I am being driven to
the airport,
on a road by the seaside.

Having been essentially
a land man,
I HATE the sea.

Give me a mountain to climb,
any day. But I won’t wade into
the sea, even if the most provocative
nubile mermaid were to offer
me my wildest wishes
coming true… or,
even if it meant I’d die
on land.

And as if it had finally got its chance,
the sea vicariously rubs its salty
wind on my multiple
wounded ego…

The airport is still an hour
and a half away.
Only one thing I know, that
can put me out of
my present state of misery …
I pull out a fat book
of short stories from
my bag, to drown
my sorrows in …

The story I read is so,
so good, that it lights up my
dampened spirits.
I feel high. My spirits, that,
half an hour ago,
were drowning in the
depths of the pits,
are now
soaring in the sky...

I remember about a
character who once claimed
why she was a teetotaler,
because “… the intoxication
that one gets from reading
a written word
is far more ethereal and satisfying
than that obtained from
any brewed liquid..”

Now I felt exactly what she meant !

I ask the driver to stop beside
the seemingly never
ending beach.
Ah, I might as well
try to get over it, I feel.
I remove my shoes and socks and
carrying the tome of a book, walk by the
seashore. The early evening crowd
is enjoying themselves.
The breeze cools
my sweat and balms
my wounds.

Cautiously, with great trepidation,
I touch the waves,
with my toes.
They seem like giant
undulating tongues
of a green monster
trying to lap me up..
I scramble out in a hurry.
Maybe some other time,
I will overcome my fear
of the sea.

I give a friendly smile to
the people on the beach.
Me smiling? Me happy !!!
I shock myself !

The driver waves out,
pointing his watch out to me..

I feel invigorated and,
I am ready to take on whatever
is left of the day.

Well, just goes to show
that words do make a
day, for some people…

Monday, March 08, 2004

Yet Another Sad Song

In her eyes,
I see tender, desperate love,
for an insensate egotist.

She loves him because,
she needs to love.
But not necessarily,
someone deserving.

Like a vine,
she clings to
the first wall
she touches.

A love so true,
it’ll die unknown,
and uneulogized.

She’ll fall in love again,
even after she gets her
tendrils scorched.

But,not as passionately.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Canary in the Cage

Why are you so negative?
So pathetic, so tragic?
Always blue, always brooding,
you accuse me, my friend,
in your angry mail,
after reading a few of my
scribblings that I had mailed
to you.

You think our Indian society
is so bad ? you ask.
You are merely highlighting
a few random cases,
which are rare, and
not the norm, you say.
Our society is as good
and vibrant than most,
you asserted.
You need to get yourself
checked, you advised.

So had commented most of
my well wishers who
sometimes read my
(if they had nothing else better
to read…).

I thought, all of you
people were perhaps right.
Maybe there was something
wrong with me.
And decided to see a

Until, I read about
a strange habit among miners,
in the beginning of the century.

They used to carry canaries
in cages everyday and
keep them in the mine floor
and work. If there was a build up
of heavy poisonous gas in the mine,
the canary would keel over and die.
That, was the sure sign for
the miners to quit for the day.
It had become too dangerous
to be around…

I feel like the canary.
Keep a careful watch on me.

Monday, March 01, 2004

Advice to JJ (on her exposing her breast)

If you git the urge
to go agin
Take me advice, baby.
Charge fer it.
Then you’ll have more
lechers asking fer
more flesh fer
their pound/dollar.
And less prudes raisin
hue/cry n