life's a kick

I lift my lashes carrying the weight of a hundred dreams, loaded with unspeakable fantasies, adorned with flowers of desire laced with luscious little plans I lift my lashes, to look at you oh! What I see in your eyes is a look to match mine the eyes of a loving opponent challenging, luring, warning dark secrets and darker promises lurking in the shadow of your lashes an unsaid confession brimming in the twin seas of love soon, our eyes get locked in an embrace hooked in a dizzying stare the world around us spins flowing between our eyes is a river of love the eyes start talking love talk nude, hungry, passionate intoxicating a fire glazes our eyes as the rest of us melts in the heat and dissolves in the kernel of our eyes a sinking heart an unhinged head a wobbly knee and drunk eyes …call out to you In a land far away from our reach beyond space and time our eyes are seeing, and doing wild acts of love…

Unannounced Unexpected and totally unwarranted your earthy eyes flash before my face stunned, I hold my heart from breaking and my throat hurts and a knife slices my back Flashes merge in a film your eyes first pure as a stream the color of earth love longing and loyalty mixed in the sphere of your eyes my then world then your laughter child-like but bold loud and ringing often breathless in which we’d swim through life in perfect sync your speech, aah those words! of rebel and truth jagged, serrated, hitting. as you mercilessly and thankfully opened the gates of wisdom of searching and quest to my ignorant mind and made me me. As I sit today Looking back on life I laugh Inadvertently, meaninglessly The paths we choose The roads we dismiss The persons we become The ideals we aspire I laugh at them all At myself For I know nothing.

I do not know how I came to love it. What I know is that it is life to me. It’s an escape. It’s a quick route to trance. It’s oxygen when I’m breathless. It’s love when I’m lonely. It’s laughter when I’m torn. Food when I’m famished. Silence in crowd. Stillness in motion. Magic in madness. I could say a hundred things that it is, but not a single thing it is not. It is THAT close to my life. Someone said it’s a silent poetry. So damn right. And so damn incomplete. Try dancing. I don’t know if that happens with you, but I can vouch for myself. See me dancing if you doubt my claim. So, try dancing. It can start from the tap of your thinking feet or the electric spasms in your fingers. Give it a chance, let it flow. Let it flood your veins. Feel it in your gut. Hear the music reverberate in your brain. Experience the gush of energy. Don’t stop it, don’t disturb it. You don’t even need to mould it. Stupid, bold, shy, uncouth, free, loud, slow…just anything. All you have to do, is...

You brought me books of poets and lovers of wind earth and sky and all that it covers you brought me thoughts from the lands of war stories of love and loss from territories within and far your brought me wonders as simple thoughtful gifts how easily you understood me an old book as one sifts you brought me expressions of what love can endure of longing's heartfelt cry of tears deep and pure you brought me a person unbiased and true love, romance and friendship unexpected, out-of-blue above all you brought me love - full and free your acceptance of me complete you brought me me.

There’s a new product in the market. Quco. It makes your hair smell good enough to make men consider you f$*ckable. The advertisement doing rounds for Quco is incredibly insane. A diffident young girl walks down the corridors of her college with diminishing confidence as boys (and girls) remark disdainfully on her face: ‘Isko pata nahin hai’. Moved to the point of tears, the near-harassed girl beg...ins to wonder what’s so monstrously wrong with her. She hesitantly begins her own inspection by smelling her armpits, when suddenly, the crusader-of-solutions, the harbinger-of-hope, the seller-of-love, the buyer-of-freedom…the super advertisor asks her to STOP! “The smell is not there baby”, he reassures her. It’s your hair – he points out. Once the girl gets to know the secret of lubricating male gonads, she is seen happily (and guess what, even confidently) strolling arms in arms with a guy. The mission of her life accomplished. In normal circumstances, and not in a marketing/ adver...

There is a huge House (read organisation). Different people in the House are responsible for different functions. Someone takes care of cleaning and hygiene, another person looks after all the purchases, a third is responsible for maintaining the kitchen and taking care of the nourishment of its residents, another one tends to the garden and sells its produce, someone for upkeep of library…and so on and so forth. There are way too many people in the House. To accommodate them, apparently gainfully, each person is headed by a series of bosses. The work is still done by the same person to who the job is assigned, but added to her burden of work, is the pain of reporting to and acquiescing with the whims of her seniors. More often than not, it involves writing lengthy reports, making powerpoint presentations, and creating complicated excel charts for most commonsensical things. After all, the seniors and the seniors of seniors need to do something! Alienated with the real taste of f...

It was the second time I felt it of late. That four letter word. Fear. I was reading Disgrace by JM Coetzee. All I knew that it was well past 11. I know this because I was quite sleepy, but determined nevertheless, to finish off the last few pages. Absorbed in the scene where Lurie is injecting deadly needles in the veins of hapless animals…I first felt it was some sort of a stir within my mind. That’s when I heard the bed (on which I was sitting) thudder against the floor. Damn it. It was an earthquake. I immediately stood up, a little unsteady. Sounds from kitchen, clink-clank of steel utensils shifting to find a new balance, corroborated my fear. My first instinct was to run and wake up my parents. Save them. The blood in my legs curdled. They felt like trunks too heavy to move…no longer a voluntary body part…oppressingly adamant. In the few seconds that the quake lasted, I imagined waking up my parents and rushing them downstairs to the open park in our society. As if I was th...