Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Card Building

Nimble fingers numb with fatigue
refuse to toil anymore
eyelids weighing down with ennui
lose focus insidiously

the soul however, is unforgiving
crying loud for its want -
to fit in, to concord, to belong,
it dreads being left out, being out of place
an old obsession that just dies hard
a quenchless thirst teased by mirage

daring not the swiftest blink
nor the tiniest whiff of breath
the soul sets to work with zeal;
even a fleeting sigh of relief or respite
could spell nothing but decisive doom

slowly but surely rises the tomb
the epitome of normality and calm
the soul delights, atlast atlast!
only to dread the slightest jolt

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Of Bitches and Witches

On the other day, in a movie,  a man calls a woman in the midst of an angry fight,  "You Whore!"  -  (goodness knows why, but they muted it on TV) but you could still see his lip synching perfectly.
However, the sub-titles ran a different word "Harlot" which is acceptable or far less offensive, I suppose. Wonder why, the dictionary offers the same meaning for both these words:
Whore - "A woman who engages in sexual intercourse for money"

Not only men, It's not uncommon for women to use such words to insult other women. Slut, whore, hussy, jade, you have to just pick one, and the words just fall over you like the falling gems in the Cadbury Gems advertisement. There are a plethora of words to describe women in this context all over the world. Every language boasts of at least a hundred to speak of women who believe in free sex, or rather sex for sale.

One wonders, is the feeble, nearly male equivalent of these words used in the same way? The dictionary reads thus:
Gigolo - "A man who has sex with and is supported by a woman"

Unlike women, men supposedly can't earn money freely out of sex like a woman, unless he is "supported by a woman, so implies the dictionary. Or could it be that the dictionary implies that a gigolo could be but only a slave of a whore? whatever!

The English dictionary, like that of any other language, is seriously partial against the masculine gender in this regard. It's shocking to say the least that it sadly lacks with equivalents for the male, who are "disputably" still burdened with having to play an equal if not larger role in socially unacceptable scenarios.

Yes, there are terms like mother-f**ker, sister-f**ker and the like - Sad, you need to drag in the female
family members of a male in order to insult him.

A few more words exclusively for the females:

Bitch (the ubiquitous, most loved-to-use word)

The dictionary reads thus:
1. An unpleasant difficulty
2. A person (usual but not necessarily a woman) who is thoroughly disliked.
3. A complaint, the act of complaining
4. Female of any member of the dog family. (So now that nails down what was only hinted in #2)

Whereas, what's in store for the word "Dog" offers some surprises!

1. A dull, unacttractive unpleasant girl or woman. (Attributed again to a woman)
"She's a real dog" 
2. Informal term for a man
"You lucky dog" (that's in a praising tone)
3. Someone who is morally reprehensible
"You dirty dog" (definitely not exclusive to men)

Witch & Wizard 

Dictionary reads thus for Witch:
1. A being (usually female) imagined to have special powers derived from the devil (indeed!)
2. A female sorcerer or magician
3. An ugly evil-looking old woman 
Now the last meaning is given without so much of a warning as vulgar, or slang - implies it's
totally acceptable.

Curious what Wizard translates to?

1. Someone who is dazzlingly skilled in any field. (!!!) 
2. One who practices magic or sorcery (Devil offered the male no powers. He had to practice by himself, poor thing!)
3. (computing) feature of a computer program or script used to guide an inexperienced user through a sequence of steps.
Sad, it's always the males who's got to share their nomenclature with computer programs.

And to top it all words like fool, moron, git, idiot, stupid, half-wit, scoundrel, rascal, and countless others are frustratingly gender neutral!

Note: Dear readers, (if any of you there) your thoughts please? Anything to put an end to this blatant Misandry of the English Dictionary. Now, wonder why the dictionary should carry a female equivalent of this word too, as it hardly claims of any -  Misogyny.

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

I have never been around here much

I have never been around here much.  

First I spent quite some time holding others hands with the stupid and the smart crow, the hare and the tortoise, the lion and the mouse and other talking animals.
Then one day I went on my own with the little round bun that hopped out of the window sill, off to the porch, and met a series of animals, escaped them but finally got tricked by the sly fox that ate it.

Misha and Masha were always fun. They often took me with them to spend a few days at their granny’s. Misha used to laugh how Masha cleverly tricked the bear from eating her up. I loved Masha.

Then came Ivanushka with his magic horse. I became the princess he fell in love with; sometimes, I was Ivan myself.

School times were more fun, when I pretended to be at the Malory Towers, Riverdale High or St.Clares. Jyothi became Darrell and I was Alicia or Sally. 
The famous five gave me painful envy with their splendid times on Kirrinn island… I followed them like a shadow, as they had all sorts of picnics and exciting adventures.

Solace was always at hand with Enid Blyton, during the bitter domestic wars that sometimes waged for days together.
Dull and dreary teenage days brightened a little with Harlequin romance.

Adulthood came to a standstill and I relished going back several years in time with the magical saga of Harry Potter.
Even in the first few rosy years of marriage, languor was wiped off whenever it seeped in, as I managed to shut myself in the fantastic world Rowling had created. I have never done drugs, but I could almost imagine how it would be. In more sober times there were the good old classics.

Household chores were not so dreary as I mulled over tit-bits from mags. Escapades from the mundane; fantasies to dwell. Noesis was lucky to come by, if any!

Things have changed. With life’s most inevitable changes, came reality hard and fast. For the first time in life, I had to be here…right here, not miss a moment. I was engrossed in the all-new experiences and I couldn’t care less for self-indulgences. May be, I could live without them after all?
How very wrong I was? The more I turned my back on them, the more I missed them; sorely. They slowly became conspicuous by absence.

Now again, for goodness sake, they are coming back. Masha has come to baby sit my kids. She has grown slightly distant to me, but she smiles at me, her old acquaintance. As the kids play with Masha and her bear, Thumbelina and Ole Luckoie, they got new friends too. Bubbles, Jessica and the elephants, Martha the monster, to name a few. I weave in and out of their worlds and mine, so different, yet so connected.

Can’t wait for Enid Blyton who’ll soon be around; whom we’ll share, join in their picnics if they let me there!
Right now, as the kids are safely tucked in bed between Pinocchio and the blue fairy, Huck Finn and Jim are beckoning me for a ride on the river for a few hours before sleep. 

Wednesday, July 03, 2013

Love letters

Old letters are nostalgic, endearing even, written between family and friends.

However, there is always something sinister about love letters; even as the love gets consummated.

Love letters are out of this world, they do not belong here, except for those stolen moments they are written and read, re-read, and re-read for quite some time.

Like stealthy kisses, fateful impulses, they are born out of fervent passions, minds in a whirl, momentous ecstasies, or desperate agonies.

Like fireworks on the sky, magical flowers that sprout and wither overnight,
they are glorious, yet ethereal in their own accord.

Scandal and shame always await them,
or worse, the inevitable purging.

But the worst happens to those that manage survival and hold honorable places in chests,
for they lose their lusture like aging actors.

True love like wine gets better with age,
love letters decay, fade over time.

Like illegal drugs, adversely therapeutic, they lurk in locked chests, these phantoms of your past.

As you pass by them in silent weary afternoons, an eerie solitude creeping over, unsaid,

you first hear them smirking and giggling,
slowly turning into painful groans;

finally they come, the unmistakable shrieks soaring to such levels, as though you locked them just seconds before...

Like devilish naughty kids, they plead at you with sly eyes, asking to be with you, promising their atonement
your heart wrenches to forgive, but know that you shouldn’t

You budge, giving in to their victory, undoubtedly as you must.
with streaming tears you embrace them, spend some happy hours with these fugitives,
cooing with them over the past, only until  it’s time to get back to the present.
you then watch them go back to their graves, carrying undue poignancy,

Every time a bit more aged,
more faded,
and more dog-eared than the last.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Black Hole

It was only a tiny little spot,
neatly cleared up, no mess at all
totally empty, staring at me...
not for long, I was smug and easy
took to feeding it slowly but surely,
as it grew greedily,
to enormous stature;
no hope of satiation, whatsoever;
I went on relentlessly
pooled in every resource I owned and borrowed;
what was just a poor little void
is now a panoptic hungry black hole;
Dreading me from deep within,
Waiting for absolute usurpation;
Nothing seems the Matter to it
And not even a faint Light returns!

Tuesday, June 04, 2013


With the rustle of each wind,
I look up at the bell,
perhaps, it will toll on its own
but no,
it just hangs there, tongue-tied
waiting for me to tug at the rope, perhaps?
The winds whistle away,
mocking at both of us...perhaps!

Monday, May 27, 2013

A Tortoise Story

That I am able to shut out and let in
anything at anytime within my self-made shell
scares me...
Is the trail actually deserted
or am I taking futile detours?
the cheery mad laughter that I so relish
has died down all of a sudden,
returning only to haunt my dreams;

weary of the path that is so clear ahead
I lie down and sleep a little,
dreaming of dancing and not running;

Where's the grace in winning a race?
with poor little hares that can't match your pace?

Survival of the Flippant

Life is all about Love, Sex, and Intoxication
Survival? that's a totally different story.
Live less and survive longer...that's the way of the world
#sad, really!

Thursday, May 23, 2013


The sun returns;
after long dark wintry nights
of mournful hibernation;
Its rays weak, merely warm;

it shyly kisses the snow covered leaf,
with bated breath, it prays that the leaf lives

the leaf turns over with a radiant smile
welcoming the gentle warmth with goosebumps all over

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Deeply disturbed? rightly so...

1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, I am not counting numbers. These are the ages of girl kids being raped and killed in our nation, by the hour.
We stand by, shocked to the senses, a nauseating feeling creeping in, owing as much to our helplessness as to the heinousness of the crime.

These acts have been happening all along, around us; shame on us if we are as ignorant as to believe that Delhi is the only rape capital. We live in rape towns, rape cities, rape villages, rape colonies, rape HOMEs.But nothing matters, everything is just a piece of horrendous news unless...(you know what I was going to say.)

More often than not, the perpetrators are well-known to the children; "friends" of their family. In a scenario where we are even numb to news about fathers raping their own daughters, this is not surprising. Yes, we hear of a case like that every other day. Let's face it...it happens, there is no way we are going to stop it happening if we go on pretending that we didn't hear it.
So, where are we heading to? Are we okay with such things happening around us? I for one, feel ashamed to look at my daughters in their eyes. What kind of world have I brought them into?
Can I tell them, "See, the world is a filthy place to live in..but don't worry, we all are living here with our senses blocked, learn the art from us; Let me just pray that you be safe..."  SHAME!

The good touch bad touch concept seems to be the mantra of the educated elite class, let alone middle class children. All schools including public and corporation schools must rigorously include schemes of protecting the girl children as part of the curriculum.

Awareness about pedophiles is the need of the hour. It's not a bad idea to seek the help of reformed criminals who can help us identify and fight this epidemic better. We need information, their inside story, how they lure children, what makes them beasts so they attack vulnerable young kids.

We need to think of immediate, long term, and ongoing measures to stop, prevent such crimes from happening again. Planning and imagining the worst possible punishments for the criminals is not one of the sanatory options.

Our PM, he says, is "deeply disturbed". Good! We hope he is disturbed enough to take some stringent action against drug trafficking and liqour distribution in this "developing" country.

Those who have suffered agonizing mental trauma hearing about this particular case, may read this too:

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Cinderella and her fairy

"Give me not a chariot of gold, or groomsmen, oh so neat;
Nor do I ask for dainty glass slippers for my feet.
Let me borrow your silvery wings, oh! let me just try them once!"
implored little Cinderella at her mighty fairy godmother

"Alas my dear child, these are not mine to claim;
borrowed wings are these, tracked and watched for time.
Tools of duty that I must duly return in the eve."
So saying with a forlorn smile, the fairy took her leave.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Crop rotation

Sow a different crop each time,
so you don't deplete the soil of the same nutrients
also you get to reap a different crop each time
but many a time,
you don't always reap what you sow

Friday, January 11, 2013

Broken Kaleidoscope

All those artistic patterns,
a million colorful hues;
nothing but tricks of my own hands and eyes

Tuesday, January 08, 2013


It's a tight rope walk
walk carefully, slowly,
do not drop the heavy stick...
make sure you retain your balance

listen to our words, never falter,
move forward in a strictly straight line
look around, but only where we ask you to.

But never look within...
for you'll come to know
that the rope is just
lying on the ground.

Time for tea? Time for two!

Lone lunches have never been uncommon or unpleasant. Even when work has kept your nose to the grindstone all through the morn, if you just...