She scattered rice grains on the balcony floor.
Back home, sparrows would hop around expectantly.
She wished there were some crows around here.
Resting her head on her elbow on the sill,
She waited.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
In limbo
She scattered rice grains on the balcony floor.
Back home, sparrows would hop around expectantly.
She wished there were some crows around here.
Resting her head on her elbow on the sill,
She waited.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Fruit Chaat
A confused retelling of the trek to Marhi peak
At length they reached the base camp: mostly-pleasant trekking,
they were tired but happy.
He did not want to wait here for too long,
the peak was still not visible on the horizon,
no clue yet how to get there.
Marhi: tourism videos offered a seductive peek,
breathtaking landscapes set to lush soundscapes.
"Fruit chaat". They noticed a feeble old man with
neatly sliced tropical fruits arranged attractively.
The mango was too ripe to refuse, they gathered around him.
"Don't bother peeling the skin, uncle", he piped.
"Are you from the Garhwal Himalayas, uncle?" he asked,
small talk soon to be forgotten. "Chamoli" he nodded.
"City-folk are enamored with Rohtang", he continued,
"Marhi is so much better. You will like it here.
Here, try these peaches,
these fruits from around here aren't quite our Chamoli size,
but the flavor is just as good."
He launched into a monologue about Chamoli and Marhi,
most of which would have been forgotten if the
stuck-in-a-landslide-outside-Chamoli-for-almost-a-day thing
hadn't happened less than a week later.
"And these delicious fruits are just wasted on city-folk,
they want it cut and spiced till there's nothing of the fruit left."
"So, what's there to do at Marhi?", they interrupted.
"Well, for some, its the journey to the peak,
for others its the view. What is it for you?"
He hedged and parried, "And how do we get there?"
"You folk seem tired and in a hurry.
There are some mules for hire there", he gestured,
"but I suggest you walk up if you can.
The horse trail heads to that waterfall there, and a little beyond,
there's a bit of snow and if you look back and squint,
you'll probably see me with my fruits". He gave a toothy grin.
"That trail is unremarkable, and even if you change your mind
and try to explore on foot, it is filled with horse droppings."
They squinched their faces, mountain-folk say the darnedest things
when others are enjoying delicious fruit chaat.
"And if you want to walk up, well you can go wherever you want.
Following the river to its source is one way to get there."
"There? Where exactly?"
"Oh you need to basically scale that sheer cliff there,
and from there you will be able to see the peak in the distance.
If you are following the river, you will need to cross it
in two places at least.
There isn't a bridge at the first spot, so be careful.
The second spot I'm thinking of,
there should still be a layer of ice on top.
It has been a warm week though,
so you might want to find a longer way around".
Jaws dropped. "How is any of this safe?!"
"It is worth it", he laughed gruffly.
What a silly perspective.
One mumbled, "So, about the mules."
Another said, "It is getting late as it is. We could just stay here and rest a while."
He was not convinced. Sure, that cliff looked mighty menacing from down here,
but that probably meant there's so much hidden from view up there.
They don't sing songs or write stories about the easy way out, so no mules then.
"I'm going up. We've made it this far, look around,
we blinked and we got here. We'll go up and be back in no time too.
And the chaat-man says it will be worth it."
(This sort of bravado got him in trouble in the Valley of Flowers a fortnight later,
he got lost following a trail up a vertical mountain-face alone.
What a silly perspective.)
"Well, if you put it that way, there's no way I'm staying here either.
To the top we climb" chimed one.
"Slowly, steadily we'll get there. No dilly-dallying though,
and no hurrying, ok?" confirmed another.
A third sighed, crackpots each of them.
And it would be up to him to ensure no one broke their limbs in this crazy trip.
And it would be up to him to figure out how to scale each obstacle they found.
He framed a rough timeline for when they should reach the top,
and when they should get back.
At that point the pictures from the brochures tempted him.
"Ok".
They got back to the fruit-seller's stall a little after sunset,
and saw another group of travellers huddled around him.
"Cut those pineapples thinner, uncle."
"And dice those apples smaller,
And peel the skin a bit more?"
They gave him a knowing smile and he winked back.
Bah, City-folk.
At length they reached the base camp: mostly-pleasant trekking,
they were tired but happy.
He did not want to wait here for too long,
the peak was still not visible on the horizon,
no clue yet how to get there.
Marhi: tourism videos offered a seductive peek,
breathtaking landscapes set to lush soundscapes.
"Fruit chaat". They noticed a feeble old man with
neatly sliced tropical fruits arranged attractively.
The mango was too ripe to refuse, they gathered around him.
"Don't bother peeling the skin, uncle", he piped.
"Are you from the Garhwal Himalayas, uncle?" he asked,
small talk soon to be forgotten. "Chamoli" he nodded.
"City-folk are enamored with Rohtang", he continued,
"Marhi is so much better. You will like it here.
Here, try these peaches,
these fruits from around here aren't quite our Chamoli size,
but the flavor is just as good."
He launched into a monologue about Chamoli and Marhi,
most of which would have been forgotten if the
stuck-in-a-landslide-outside-Chamoli-for-almost-a-day thing
hadn't happened less than a week later.
"And these delicious fruits are just wasted on city-folk,
they want it cut and spiced till there's nothing of the fruit left."
"So, what's there to do at Marhi?", they interrupted.
"Well, for some, its the journey to the peak,
for others its the view. What is it for you?"
He hedged and parried, "And how do we get there?"
"You folk seem tired and in a hurry.
There are some mules for hire there", he gestured,
"but I suggest you walk up if you can.
The horse trail heads to that waterfall there, and a little beyond,
there's a bit of snow and if you look back and squint,
you'll probably see me with my fruits". He gave a toothy grin.
"That trail is unremarkable, and even if you change your mind
and try to explore on foot, it is filled with horse droppings."
They squinched their faces, mountain-folk say the darnedest things
when others are enjoying delicious fruit chaat.
"And if you want to walk up, well you can go wherever you want.
Following the river to its source is one way to get there."
"There? Where exactly?"
"Oh you need to basically scale that sheer cliff there,
and from there you will be able to see the peak in the distance.
If you are following the river, you will need to cross it
in two places at least.
There isn't a bridge at the first spot, so be careful.
The second spot I'm thinking of,
there should still be a layer of ice on top.
It has been a warm week though,
so you might want to find a longer way around".
Jaws dropped. "How is any of this safe?!"
"It is worth it", he laughed gruffly.
What a silly perspective.
One mumbled, "So, about the mules."
Another said, "It is getting late as it is. We could just stay here and rest a while."
He was not convinced. Sure, that cliff looked mighty menacing from down here,
but that probably meant there's so much hidden from view up there.
They don't sing songs or write stories about the easy way out, so no mules then.
"I'm going up. We've made it this far, look around,
we blinked and we got here. We'll go up and be back in no time too.
And the chaat-man says it will be worth it."
(This sort of bravado got him in trouble in the Valley of Flowers a fortnight later,
he got lost following a trail up a vertical mountain-face alone.
What a silly perspective.)
"Well, if you put it that way, there's no way I'm staying here either.
To the top we climb" chimed one.
"Slowly, steadily we'll get there. No dilly-dallying though,
and no hurrying, ok?" confirmed another.
A third sighed, crackpots each of them.
And it would be up to him to ensure no one broke their limbs in this crazy trip.
And it would be up to him to figure out how to scale each obstacle they found.
He framed a rough timeline for when they should reach the top,
and when they should get back.
At that point the pictures from the brochures tempted him.
"Ok".
They got back to the fruit-seller's stall a little after sunset,
and saw another group of travellers huddled around him.
"Cut those pineapples thinner, uncle."
"And dice those apples smaller,
And peel the skin a bit more?"
They gave him a knowing smile and he winked back.
Bah, City-folk.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Yes She Could
Another attempt at contrived writing. Grammar has probably been stabbed multiple times and left to die on a cobbled street where buses don't often ply.
She slept to a lullaby that she could just about not hear.
She approached a land that she could just about not remember.
She breathed a whisper that she could just about not utter.
She pictured a landscape that she could just about not convey.
Someone was waiting, she could just about not delay.
She awoke to a new day.
She slept to a lullaby that she could just about not hear.
She approached a land that she could just about not remember.
She breathed a whisper that she could just about not utter.
She pictured a landscape that she could just about not convey.
Someone was waiting, she could just about not delay.
She awoke to a new day.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Six Sentences
My attempt at a six sentence story:
She was a vision to behold. I sat opposite her during a one hour train journey, and she kept smiling at me. Nervous, I thought, or a foreigner in a foreign land.
Eyes met often, smiles were exchanged, not a word was spoken and the hour passed pleasantly enough.
I gathered up my stuff and blurted out, "This is my stop", and she retorted, "Too bad!".
What did she mean?!
She was a vision to behold. I sat opposite her during a one hour train journey, and she kept smiling at me. Nervous, I thought, or a foreigner in a foreign land.
Eyes met often, smiles were exchanged, not a word was spoken and the hour passed pleasantly enough.
I gathered up my stuff and blurted out, "This is my stop", and she retorted, "Too bad!".
What did she mean?!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
King of my Coffin
Disease spreads, friends suffer, wounds fester,
The leaves fall, the cold bites, the people dazed,
Lulled by melodies, charmed by colors, felled by feeling.
I lie alone,
Under a wooden roof,
On a wooden floor,
Surrounded by wooden walls,
Under the ground.
King of my coffin.
Unfeeling.
The leaves fall, the cold bites, the people dazed,
Lulled by melodies, charmed by colors, felled by feeling.
I lie alone,
Under a wooden roof,
On a wooden floor,
Surrounded by wooden walls,
Under the ground.
King of my coffin.
Unfeeling.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Bullies
(copied from my FB note)
This is my way of checking out Facebook's Notes feature.
What follows is a few words strung together in a non-random pattern.
If an event sounds like a story you told me, it probably is.
If I have abused your confidence, I apologise.
Amongst merciful friends, it is easier to beg for forgiveness than for permission.
Also, keep 'em expectations low; creative would be a stretch, I call it contrived writing.
They held a gun to my cheek,
A grown man lay prostate, sobbing for mercy,
And, care-free, I sat in my cradle.
They slapped a notice on our door,
At midnight, we hurried away from our home,
And, confused, I gathered my playthings.
They stopped us on the road,
A few crisp notes bought us our peace,
And, crestfallen, I unclenched my fist.
They raised a hue and cry far away,
A paranoia gripped the sheep in their stalls,
And, conforming, I cancelled my plans.
They surrounded us on their motorbikes,
A few knives glinted, some leered,
And, craven, I sank back and prayed.
What gods are these to justify these deeds?
This is my way of checking out Facebook's Notes feature.
What follows is a few words strung together in a non-random pattern.
If an event sounds like a story you told me, it probably is.
If I have abused your confidence, I apologise.
Amongst merciful friends, it is easier to beg for forgiveness than for permission.
Also, keep 'em expectations low; creative would be a stretch, I call it contrived writing.
They held a gun to my cheek,
A grown man lay prostate, sobbing for mercy,
And, care-free, I sat in my cradle.
They slapped a notice on our door,
At midnight, we hurried away from our home,
And, confused, I gathered my playthings.
They stopped us on the road,
A few crisp notes bought us our peace,
And, crestfallen, I unclenched my fist.
They raised a hue and cry far away,
A paranoia gripped the sheep in their stalls,
And, conforming, I cancelled my plans.
They surrounded us on their motorbikes,
A few knives glinted, some leered,
And, craven, I sank back and prayed.
What gods are these to justify these deeds?
The King's Tomb
(needs work)
A pair of ferrets scurried across the scaffolding,
The day was grown dark, and they were quite blind.
Unmarked marble graves, under an adorned dome,
Mice squeaked in a corner, the roof leaked.
“Majestic” chuckled one, but then grew silent,
Every stroke on stone, every nook, every slab,
Whispered a story that carried across centuries,
And they had grown too deaf to hear.
How timeless it must have seemed,
The king to his beloved, “My dear,
We lived, we loved, we shall lie,
Side by side, in our marble beds,
Forever”.
How timeless it must have seemed;
How cruel! Taken over by louts and lovers
who wont let the royal couple rest in peace.
The ferrets slunk away with a sombre thought,
The King of man remains a man.
A pair of ferrets scurried across the scaffolding,
The day was grown dark, and they were quite blind.
Unmarked marble graves, under an adorned dome,
Mice squeaked in a corner, the roof leaked.
“Majestic” chuckled one, but then grew silent,
Every stroke on stone, every nook, every slab,
Whispered a story that carried across centuries,
And they had grown too deaf to hear.
How timeless it must have seemed,
The king to his beloved, “My dear,
We lived, we loved, we shall lie,
Side by side, in our marble beds,
Forever”.
How timeless it must have seemed;
How cruel! Taken over by louts and lovers
who wont let the royal couple rest in peace.
The ferrets slunk away with a sombre thought,
The King of man remains a man.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Penance and Bliss
Have been wrestling with this one for a while. Originally wrote prose while waiting to meet a professor, and then rewrote it as a poem while waiting for said professor (a different meeting though).
Still not satisfied with it, have given it up as a lost cause. I have it in my head, just can't express it.
There, once, was a singer of great repute.
People thronged to his concerts, to witness his mastery.
Through his songs, he consorted with the angels themselves.
Intense penance.
One day, mid-concert, he stopped singing.
Never again did he sing, the frown of devotion gone forever.
But, the divine song he always heard, and the smile on his lips never fell.
Immense bliss.
Still not satisfied with it, have given it up as a lost cause. I have it in my head, just can't express it.
There, once, was a singer of great repute.
People thronged to his concerts, to witness his mastery.
Through his songs, he consorted with the angels themselves.
Intense penance.
One day, mid-concert, he stopped singing.
Never again did he sing, the frown of devotion gone forever.
But, the divine song he always heard, and the smile on his lips never fell.
Immense bliss.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Prime Location
Behold! A magnificent mountain on the horizon.
"Feel", said one of the party, "the glorious sun",
We shall settle here, grow old and prosper,
And, as was decreed, the city was peopled - all was done.
Eventually, Empires emerged and Others began to appear,
Heroic wars were fought, many died, much trouble,
All for a bit of land and a lone mountain standing there.
Death did not deter the intruders - no, their strength redoubled,
But peace reigned supreme, wrought with great care.
They came, first with pickaxes, and stripped it of it's pebbles,
Boulders were hauled, cliffs chiseled and a fort erected,
Manned by a carefully chosen set of warriors most capable,
But the best creation of Man is doomed to fail - and it did,
Ignorantly, He ploughs on, living in his own bubble,
It is a travesty of Nature, and I am to live here,
Rock by rock, everything's gone, all's left's rubble.
"Feel", said one of the party, "the glorious sun",
We shall settle here, grow old and prosper,
And, as was decreed, the city was peopled - all was done.
Eventually, Empires emerged and Others began to appear,
Heroic wars were fought, many died, much trouble,
All for a bit of land and a lone mountain standing there.
Death did not deter the intruders - no, their strength redoubled,
But peace reigned supreme, wrought with great care.
They came, first with pickaxes, and stripped it of it's pebbles,
Boulders were hauled, cliffs chiseled and a fort erected,
Manned by a carefully chosen set of warriors most capable,
But the best creation of Man is doomed to fail - and it did,
Ignorantly, He ploughs on, living in his own bubble,
It is a travesty of Nature, and I am to live here,
Rock by rock, everything's gone, all's left's rubble.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Innuendo
"Father Agnels licks Saint Mary's...in a basketball match". - Yours Truly.
Literature. Oh Literature. My Literature.
Dear Literature. Please Literature. Don't Literature.
For you, Literature. I will Literature. I do Literature.
Yes Literature. More Literature. That's it Literature.
Literature. Oh Literature. My Literature.
Dear Literature. Please Literature. Don't Literature.
For you, Literature. I will Literature. I do Literature.
Yes Literature. More Literature. That's it Literature.
Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook? Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook! Ook! Ook? Ook! Ook? Ook.
Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook? Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook?
Ook! Ook! Ook? Ook! Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook. Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook? Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook! Ook! Ook? Ook! Ook? Ook. Ook! Ook.
Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook? Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook. Ook? Ook! Ook! Ook? Ook! Ook? Ook. Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook.
Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
Ook! Ook. Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook.
Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook! Ook!
Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook.
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