the buddha of love...

wet to the bone, 
out in the cold rain alone;
this the price for friendship be?

eternal hours of longing, 
for one look of the awaited;
days of scorn forgotten in an instant.

o' wordless beast,
vilified mangy cur;
Buddha of love are thee.

***

call them mute. but their actions speak louder than all our words put together. irrespective of the duration & distance of the parting; all is forgiven in an instant and the joy of meeting the human companion - even a momentary one - breaks through in waves of ecstasy. there is no better teacher of unconditional love than a dog. 

i miss the dog who used to sleep outside my doorstep.

toe saves the day...

The remote too far out of reach,
Mind's being fed a MTV meal;
O' laziness! Woe be me.

To the rescue comes the toe,
Stretched across the great divide;
The machine now controlled, not I. 

***

In memory of the Deepak Nagar apartment and lazy college summers. 

:)

halcyon days...

its fragrance borne by the gentle breeze,
a summon to the one gone years past.
the fire of youth now tempered steel,
and still, all it takes is one sip.

feral by nature this malaise,
the only succor be to give in.
drunk on memories of days past,
men turn to impetuous beings.

adventures relived and tales retold,
by the warm hearth of friends old.
sipping on the wines of summer,
adorned by the flowers of spring.

our halcyon days these be.

curious Saad...

I finally get to see the sun on the morning that I am leaving. Baroda sure has its way of teasing people. Going back to the grand reunion of the quartet from college; we sorely missed the Mallu thunder, Sumi. No one yelled at us for being obnoxious, mean and total pigs! 

And oh, this is what we found over the course of one incredibly curious night, when we decided to let the internet answer the one question that Saad really wanted the answer to. He may not know whether he shall get his Visa before his semester starts, but he was willing to die to know this.

In other things, that darn spooky ghost particle of a fellow is claiming to have taken the lead in the blogger smackdown that he has initiated against me. Such tall claims need to be dealt with strictly and promptly.

So boo ya!  ;)

boys will be boys...

what happens when a bunch of ol' farts get together to relive college days?

the woman says, "dammit".
the dad says, "not again".
the sister says,"oh God".
the mother says, "have fun".

...

:)

my lady arwen...

o' fair Arwen, 
lost in the mists of melancholy;
they say that thy smile is lost. 
and my quest be to seek it;
from deep within earth's bosom,
to across the stars of heaven.
cause only then would i find thee, again. 

tadpoles with tails...

the green rushing past the window is but a blur, as the swaying motion of the train drags me into one of my motion induced state of semi-sleep. the eyes being to droop as the cool breeze blows through my hair and i begin to slip into a nostalgic dream.

...the rains that were but a moment ago lashing outside the train window, are suddenly pattering down on my face, as i dressed in gum boots and raincoat look up to the sky. rains are my favorite. monsoon is a season i look forward to all year. what for others is a season of mud, puddles and flies, for me are the best days of being a little boy. to see the earthworms squiggle out of the wet earth. to float paper boats on the newly invigorated stream of rainwater by the road. to see the whole world transform into a green rhapsody and to visit the dirty puddle with tadpoles each day to see them transform from heads with tails to tiny limbs with tails, until one day there are no tails and no tadpoles. but a million tiny frogs hopping all over the place begging to be caught and hidden away in the pockets of the raincoat...

as a sudden jolt of the train awakens me, only the rain still falls outside. i cannot but think that maybe one day they will return; the earthworms and the tadpoles with tails. 

i want them to.

the river and the cherry tree...

the faint touch of the passing one, 
be sole comfort for the steadfast.
fickle yet faithful their caresses.

the rushed intimacy of spring, 
showered with petals of joy. 
the icy detachment of winter, 
mourned in bare solitude.

an adieu stretched across seasons,
always leaving and yet never going;
companions for life they be.
the river and the cherry tree.

o' misaki, child of such love. 

old treasures...

so i realise that the blogs of old are being abandoned and forgotten nowadays. or at least that is what it seems. can't blame others when i myself am hardly being attentive to this space.

the dust has accumulated. the fine particles settling on the words that have been remained untouched for so long. the cobwebs cling to the recesses, the residents of which scatter away rapidly from the random probing flashlight that appears. occasionally something new gets passed on to this place. a shiny box that stands out like a crow amidst owls. but eventually the glimmer fades, and the it becomes one with the others. here rests the old. the untouched. the unmoved. 

but this is where lay hidden wondrous treasures. 

question is, who seeks them?