My Myth

Physical pain and pleasure are lessons to be learnt with human body. Love doesnt flow from heart but from soul. Knowledge is not stored in brain but adapted by spirits. The soul and spirit together takes birth as human body to learn lessons for the ultimate salvation. whatever we do and learn is already calculated and inculcated thousands of years ago. The wisdom is to learn to smile in tragedies, compassion in anger, knowing that the happiness doesnt depend on anything but it must be a pre-decided state of mind. Learn to love more when others dont. And live as if this moment is the best of my life and accept death a willful entering to the painless world, the back way to origin.

A Night with Stars

Long back ago, when Leonardo da Vinci put it on canvas, when Icarus flew to the sun with his wax wings, when Ravan kidnapped Sita in his Pushpak Viman and when Santa Claus came in his flying chariot, it was sure that the intensive ambition of man to touch the sky and to hide in clouds was engraved in his soul. Right brothers lite up the torch amidst the darkness on the concept of airworthiness. As it was always a habit of human being to achieve the extremities of possibilities, he never needed to turn back. He crossed the limits of nature and become supernatural by hoisting the flag of victory in The Moon. Moon and stars have always been a long long dream for human, its no more a dream for me. Every stud of ‘The Grass’ and every leaf of ‘The Hash’ or sometimes what my soulmate friends gives me with full of love have taken me to the Moon and Stars. Last night I wrote my name there on the flag of US in moon, and I played Hide & Seek with stars. I owed the wings of Icarus, and flew in night. Stars were too cold, Moon was warm. I slept there, now woke up on earth under the protection of sun.

My Boss

He got only one eye, an eagle eye.
What he sees through that, God even don’t know.

His bones are steel, stainless steel.
How he lives with that, medical science is scary.

He says himself an average, but super-natural for us,
His actions are weird, he too doesn’t know what and when.

He don’t know virus, but he adores anti-virus,
He brings every fortnightly, any new name to me.

He is a diver, sea diver,
He deserves this, a high five.

He comes office early, don’t have anything to do at home,
He holds my neck, every now and then.

He threatens me, and beats me,
He was pardoned, because he is steel.

He challenges me for a marathon, seriously,
He knows, I think, I don’t like to run.

He buys new gadgets, boasts about it,
He was ignored, because I got nothing to do with it.

He advice me as a guardian, every time,
He was heard and forgotten, every time.

He was respected, from my heart,
He was obeyed, always and proudly.

But…

He caught me late, and asked me,
‘Do you think I am a fool sitting here?’

And I say ‘Yes’, as I do always.
Because he is my ‘Boss’, much respected.

Rice Balls & Fish fries

At my two; ‘Muthhi’ stood outside, asking kids for sale,
Knocked our door, to buy me, always at meal time.
Mom chased after me with rice balls and fish fries,
And I stopped at those knocks, ‘coz I was afraid of ‘Muthhi’.

At the six; grand ma took over to chase me,
Poor old lady, with rice balls and fish fries,
To push in my mouth, Ha! ha! and I ran faster,
Till I hear dad, then followed chewing from her lap.

Sixteen came; we all sat with music in nights.
I carried my books and walked, chewing hardly.
Mom followed like a mice after piper, with rice balls.
On contra, the poorest Dad stood at gate as a sentry.

Now at twenty six; no one chased me with any ball,
Neither any one stood outside my door, to buy me.
But slowly and silently I move behind someone
Cherishing those balls and fries, towards the counter.

Kohi-Noor

See around, everywhere is light, the Noor.
The waking rays of sun, or vapors of tea,
Either Noor flowed or scattered around.
And we stand amazingly not realizing it.

The green of grass, or blue of sea,
Eyes and heart fill with joy by those.
Noticed ever, the Noor streamed in,
And could ever enjoy those without her?

The very first we see, out of womb,
Is exactly, and only her, Noor, through out.
Our mother left us with her to live life,
Still we stay away in nights, from her.

More care she showered in every dawn,
Like our mother, forbearing last night.
She carries our hands of eyes tight and
Show the right path, till we again stumble.

A fine day, the vesper comes of our life,
That is when she prepares a good-bye,
We close our eyes, and see her leaving,
The Kohinoor, the light of world from us.

The Intezaar

I never waited anyone like this, before.
I feel her presence beside, all time,
At every station and every crowd,indeed
Everywhere, But I could never trace her out.

Thoroughly, at the eyes of every girl I see,
In the every train or bus, and every crowd,
I searched the same feelings which I got,
To rush and tell her, that I’m here at last.

Hardly my emotions reflected in any eyes,
And I whispered myself, she’s not the one.
Those where I found a lock of sights,
Either she shared another train or a boy.

Once I dared to do, to say it, my feeling,
To a girl who seemed interested in me.
I took a few steps, closer I saw her parents,
And I said ‘she is short, too short for me’.

Oh damn! What a silence is this, everywhere.
No crowds noticed it, the silence around me.
Still I carried a smile, wishing if she finds me,
She will carry the pleasant smile, for me.

I know one day I will get married, one day.
She might or not have travelled with me.
Can’t say, whether she found me before,
And carried the smile, as ‘Ring of Rama’.

I will tell my better half, about these days.
I was about lost myself to be with her soon.
But for now its true, I die hard to face this,
The Intezaar for her, the sincere prayer of loneliness.

The Future

When the sun rises, know it acclimates every brain.
The rays of sun, shows the power of thoughts.
When sun is up, it is a day, the grandeur of rays
And the way of our thoughts, defines our own world.

Every eve the sun fails and failure is inevitable, truly.
We never see him giving up, he arise more mighty.
Every time when we fall, inculcate self, pointing him,
That it is inevitable, truly, for us too, a rise for success.

On the way of move, sun becomes more powerful.
But he has to move till noon for that, never before.
On our bonanza, we too become powerful, may more.
But we have to move, till then, patiently and persistently.

Nothing could stop the sun, from what he intends, yet.
He decides his path for success, and he accomplishes always.
Nothing should stop us too, from our chariot journey, never.
Because we determines our necessity, the destiny of success.

A Haircut in 1969

Who loves a haircut? Since childhood whenever Dad took me to a barber shop, I asked this to myself. I found answer after a dozen of years and it is only “Barbers and Bosses”. Sometimes or every time we hate to listen something from someone especially like my boss saying, “You would look smarter by a haircut, what you think?” Idiot! He could say straight, to go and cut your hair.  I combed my hair and dressed up to leave but before closing my cabin door, I took two steps back to check myself in mirror.

                Vasco-da-gama is not a posh city still we had barbers who used an Android cellphone or came in Tata Indica or WagonR.  I preferred my bike only as it was easy to get place for parking. It was not hot outside still I could feel the thrill of air condition when I entered into the barber shop. I felt the crowd in there was staring at me like I joined a queue at 9.00AM for a Tatkal ticket. The real crowd seemed doubled with their reflection on mirrors but tingling of their staring seemed doubled by ten times. I never liked such and I moved out slowly in a posture that ‘I will join you guys after a tea’.

                I walked a few yards from there, just to check the other shop was open or not. Amazingly it was not only open but was empty too. I was enough happy thinking that I will walk in front of the same crowd like the proud ‘Uncle Sruze  of Duck Tales’ in previous shop after having a fast haircut. I entered the shop with a smile. The barber uncle was sitting on a bench and was lost in some thoughts. My entering there was like slow covering of cloud over sun, I too hated those scenes. May be, I disturbed him from his thoughts or he didn’t expect any or he was not in a mood, that’s why he looked at me, asking “What do you want?” , silently. I too replied through my eyes, “I won’t ask you a tea.”

I moved to a haircutting chair. I sat and prepared to give my head. His way of getting up from the bench and slow steps towards me gave me sort of that feeling. I looked around. There was no one around. That was an old building. All the equipments there were older than me. Dust gave mat finish to the ‘once white’ walls. He moved very slowly. I could feel a big gap between us. Someone once told me the shop was inaugurated in 1969. I am sure the same now-uncle was must be of my age that time. I couldn’t control my heart, I drooped back. I saw the world outside was moving so fast, like Rajadhani Express. And we were comparatively motion-less. I searched for a transistor. I wished if it could play a Bob Marley. I failed to find that one, and other than that rest all was so nostalgic, the nostalgia of previous life. He asked me whether to use machine and I said ‘yes’. He opened a drawer and took out a haircutting machine. It seemed as an alien instrument for me as I didn’t expect such thing there. That machine carved my head slowly. I was wondering that ‘Could my head look this awkward? 

                Another old man came in. He had dark black and long hair tough he was old. Ironically representing my generation, I was expecting a shining ball over my eyes in a few months. Human tendency, I felt jealous on him, on his hair. I looked at my head. The uncle was trying hard to bring into a shape and he was enough tired. The hairy uncle combed his hair for about five minutes and pulled out a string of hair like a pony tail and shaped it into a hook. These two uncles shared something in Konkini. I didn’t care much because I know they were talking about me only and must be saying ‘What this fool is doing here, when Vasco is rich in having Air Conditioned Saloons’. I too was thinking same only, ‘what the hell made me to give my head there?’

                I was almost finished and when I was stepping out of chair, another young man came in. This time uncle couldn’t control, and he literally asked him, “What do you want?” Uncle couldn’t control himself, all the patience he awarded me and kept my head alive for at least one more haircut in future released like a fire ball to that poor new chap. Then everything was silent. I gave him thirty rupees and made my way out to 2011 from 1969. Luck or bad luck never favour more than one at a time, usually seen so. The uncle sat back on his bench and the climate reverted there back into 1969, and cloud is gone from the sun.  I saw the young man following me out of the ‘1969’s Barbershop’.

                I passed through the first shop and found a fresh crowd. Sometimes something takes us to different world realizing the previous was better and a little patience could hold us there, the better place.

A SERENADE

The moments I loved my self, the times I walked back to the mirror. The lights I adjusted to me. Those minutes without even a blink; the crunching glances of me.  It all happened when she told me where were you? Why didn’t I see you? And I feel like I love you.

I doubt the mirrors lied to me so many years, or do they now? Should I believe my eyes or her relent words? I love to believe her words, contemporary to my eyes. Who lied and to whom? Nevertheless. The lie is accepted by both of us. Why it didn’t when it was supposed to happen? Or is this the time, right?

Is that me whom she borne to live with? Is that me whom she terribly missed for so long? I wished if I could meet her a decade before. But now it is late. A truth which I don’t want to tell her, I am never sure I can live the second to see her eyes wet. I wonder why it is the truth. Sometimes it is and that is truth. The truth is with in her.

Should I rely on my senses? Is she that what I see? Is she? Or is it just a facetious hallucination? No. she is. She is real. She is true what I see, what I believe. When I say about her, I feel scarcity, the real poverty of words. She is like a loaf of nature. My hunger always died of a loaf, but un-controllably increasing for her, the hunger.

Thousand lives we were together; or thousand lives I waited for her. Whatever, I finally found her. She found me. At the middle of a lake, on a canoe, facing each other, swinging on lakes cradle, where nobody around, sun closing his eyes at west leaving some gleams to shimmer around, salmons and sharks staring from down under, we sat as new born, without even a blink; we found each other.

The prelude was inside us. What is happening outside? Is this the time of eclipse? Is the sky going to fall? Is the earth going to split? Has someone opened the Pandora’s Box? Has the wolves took over vampires? Has the world’s whole evil targeted us? Why is this so? I would have waited one more life for her. Why we are bounded with rules that cannot make us one? Can’t a human believe another? Why they need the please of stars and zodiacs? Are they going to feed us?  I know this is a scathing task, but I have a solution, to touch hearts.

Today we love each other, tomorrow we will love more. I wish, we wish, if the day after tomorrow never comes. I whimper my fate sometimes. Because like now, I know how much she loves me. I am being pampered by her. But after all she is stuck, stuck with it. It is intrigue. The conspiracy made not by her; her fate; her precaution; her un-awareness; her trials. I love her. I need her. Though how tough it is, till she needs me, I will make it. If a day rise, if it, to nibble her from me, I’ll take it as Mamma’s beckon back home.

Like the Sun approach Night every time, he found her running away with dusk into the dark. He always left without a shrug and she hid in dark always. She knows he is not made for her though he is strong and bright. Someone else is made for her, someone too simple and adorable. The way I am simple. Does the Night know how much the Sun loved her? Whenever he made it close, she was always found with the twilight. Truth is Sun don’t deserve Night, She is mine.

Oh Lord! Why I understand her? I know her crystal clear. And I don’t want to grab her to me; all I love is to see her walking to me with a shy head down. I believe in omens, instincts and every whisper of nature. They told me, they took me all towards her. She was intimated my arrival. My exertion to reach her was impeccable. She is not asking anything to me, like a silent listener, she sits and listens me as well as her stream of emotions. I worry. I want her to know me more. More till nothing more is left to. When it will happen? How should it happen? Do I have to break rules? No. she don’t want to break rules. Then What? Should I amend rules? Or should I touch the chain of hearts she belong to? I’ll try that. For nothing wrong or everything pre-decided.

It’s everything like a bead sees while he flows ahead, till he reaches back in sea. It’s life, our life, a beautiful life, like a Serenade.

Moon light dream

A breeze with the fragrance of roses was surrounding us. We stood at the centre of that infinite garden of daffodils and sunflowers. Tents were made by jasmine bushes. The small pond, full of lotuses and swans shined in the full moon light. Dears and rabbits were playing hide and seek. The whole environment was blossomed and we sat still, looking each other’s eyes. The drizzle wet our clothes and it stuck to our skin. I saw her curves and it aroused me. I tried to hide my eyes. She was staring at my cut shaped muscles and she seemed lost in tingling sensation. The drizzle drops passed through her eye lids hid her tears of joy. And those which touched her lips transformed into honey drops. I slowly bend to taste the honey and I licked it drop-by-drop. She shared its taste from me. Our eyes went closed. And some drops, dew drops, fell into my eyes. It was cold and I opened my eyes with a jerk….. Alas!!!

Papa stood there with a glass of water. I was on bed, early morning 5O’clock; the wake up call. I sat in front of books, staring; but barely any word became clear, all I saw was a fade image of garden. True, still I taste her honey drops inside my throat.

Arena is opening the curtains...