Imperfection

The human race unknowingly suffers -
Not for the want of rhyme or word
But for the want of un-thought truth.
For a working brain adulterates its form
and carves it into a beautiful elegant lie
Like the wheel that turns clay to a vase.
The world that exaggerates beauty
Clamors over pots and cares not for clay.
An Incident retold becomes a fable
After a hundred lips have had their glory
An epic is born - glamorously perfect
And of humans : Heroes and Villains made.

The Corporate Cockroach

As metaphorical as the this title may seem, it isn't. This is about a Certain cockroach in a corporate office, in my cubicle if you want the details. When I first noticed him (or a her, I am no Roach-ologist), I was in the course of making an incredible discovery that could solve the world food crisis; Alright, I was surfing the internet; aaarghhh, alright, I was facebooking. But that is not what this post is about, it is about Cockroach Jr.

The protagonist is a brown, not completely unfortunate looking insect belonging to the species Jabumba Jabusa (I am in no mood to google a pest's scientific name, to sound intelligent to you). He was the size of three peas together. Imagine small peas, if you please.

All the time, I had learnt about Cockroaches outliving the dinosaurs I didn't believe. I thought the Roach-ologists were seriously confused when they said that. But when I saw Cockroach Jr come to life after my seventeen unsuccessful and three almost successful attempts to murder, I should admit, the dinosaurs with their bird-sized brains didn't have a chance.

The Intelligent patterns the protagonist adopts in his fight for survival and his urge to irritate me are as follows:

1) They move close to things you do not want to disturb. Glasses, Ceramic plates or like in my case, the laptop with a dock so sensitive that a light breeze could disrupt connectivity.

2) They never run in the same direction for long. They keep their movements hard to predict. For example, when you chase an ant and there is a wall, you know it would take one of the three paths (up, left or right) not in the case of the trained GI Joe cockroaches.

3) They look yuck and by the time you make sure that the file you are holding is ok to have a shapeless squiggly stain, they run out of sight.

4) They come taunt you every possible time when they are prepared, so that when they are really unprepared the probability, that you notice that your chances aren't that futile, is low

5) The most important of them all, the smirking face. That lopsided grin (I bet I saw him look up and smirk at me, kinda like Jerry irritates Tom, as I waited for him to get out of the proximity of my laptop) he gives every time he peeps out of the multitude of wires to provoke me! My self-esteem jumps down a cliff, everytime.

I hated them during Zoology labs, I hated them with all the 'Hit' and 'Lakshman Rekha' I could find and now, I hate them because he is no ordinary enemy.

Roach-er that!

The mighty Clown

Walking along a glittering white beach at dawn,
Feet sinking into the small whirlpools of sand
Which your shoe-d toes are resistant to pull from,
It feels good to be alone when you are not lonely.

The salt stained face to your solitary disgrace
remains, despite your endless wiping, salty.


The untamed wind that has run its course
Dying out of momentum as it meets your face
The casual whistling and the chill it brings
Just like horror movies on Saturday night.


As you watch the mighty sea frustratingly with waves
Wash itself of all land-ly filth, an irritated fool
You remember that dumb dog across your fence
That funnily kept going dizzy trying to catch his tail.

The dejected crescent moon above, lost in her thoughts
Pulls forgetfully the exhausted Poseidon's invisible mane;
And he with a weakened instinct, stands up and stares,
For a moment before his impulsive tide falls
And he continues his never-ending cleansing
He with mock revenge hits back at the shore. 

Amused exceedingly by these childish tirades
You laugh to yourself - A mad fool on a normal day.

The Ignorant judge

How sinned must be the shredded flower,

Which with envied splendor on upturned crowns once sat,

To resolve for her the sincerity of her first love,

Even as his last petal tries to dodge her nervous hands.

Pebbles

Fresh flowers, which unasked are torn
from their buoyant cheer on green stems
For the victory pageant to tread upon.


In the game of royalty, pawns on either side
Sacrificed cheaply on the checkered board
For greater victories, their fall insignificant.


All life-death verdicts mere outcomes
from random tosses of someone's coins.
What you propose, every other force disposes.


Like a pebble by the river, shaped by the flow
Robbed of uniqueness, lost in a colossal pile.
Ah, the pain of being small in a big man's world.

Re-birth

Where no Man is forced to kill his brother
and, each kid wakes to see his Mother smile.
Where Respect is not to be fought for
and, For Love shall none be begged.
For Faith, no infant's smile be robbed,
No wrinkled skin be left cold wanting shelter,
Where every life, can stand up with dignity
In such a world, shall I be born again.
Till then, I bid Hell to have me burn.

Irony

You, my Friend, are Funny
You wish the sky were green,
Grass blue and the Sun a square.
You wish for things you never had,
Once you do, you want to rewind.
Answers you claim to have seeked
Half your pathetic wishful life,
to questions you made up in the rest -
When I throw straight at your face
You duck and start searching again.

Existence

A wretched wind that a cyclone wrought
over the hills, a cursed seed it brought
Alone and desolate, an ill-fated seed
That was from the pleasure of tall company
Thrust unwanted into the thorny shrubbery.
Hovering tall and green through the decades,
It lived, if 'lived' could be so carelessly used,
With unsophisticated branches and needy roots
A lion amongst the sheep did it grow, the seed.

Its been a year since its last leaf showed
Fighting Autumn, in all its dreary yellowness
Its war for space with the prickly rivals unending
A braveheart still fighting for his shameful existence
He speaks, as the northern wind combs through,
To the unnamed pecker who had long made him home
Of life, the summers and winters and springs that passed.

#ToLiveOrToExist

Fingers Crossed

Walking that Horizon between Life and Death,
Oblivious to the vilest poisons in that fragile vial of fate
Fighting forever in vain, the walls of the bony box
Looking for the faintest signs of light in cramped darkness
Struggling powerlessly to be free from the cage,
I live as a mortal, yet another random Schrodinger's Cat.

Everyone is stupid someday!

After a smile and an hour,
Looking blank at the screen,
Or In deep thought, like I say,
I find, I smiled at a stranger
In the hallway.
I remembered him from somewhere
A friend of a friend, Not really,
Perhaps, The guy at the reception
or One of the Insurance guys?
After a smile and an hour I realized
I smiled at a confused stranger today.
I felt like a STUPID but then
Everyone is stupid sometime someday.

--To be Contd.----

I smile

Lonely in a merry crowd, I smile
With the weight of the gazes, I smile
Even when my voice breaks, I smile
When my eyes burn to cry, I smile
With my shiny moist eyes, I smile
I heard you say I'm weird, I smile
You wonder whats wrong, I smile
I cannot let me hate what I am like
Doesn't matter what comes my way,
I would rather keep my smile.

Unfit saviours

Slaying your own kind and calling it honour
Stealing for reasons but burning hunger
O poor wretched soul, I detest you!
To grin at the starving, find humour in killing
To slight the meek, bow to the empowered
O wierd human, I pity you!
To still call yourself the saviour of the world
With nothing but a stupid extra sense
O wierd wretched human, I defy you!

Dust

Unguided I walked for an hour or a dozen
Before slowly dissolving into the gray fog.
The waning moon particularly unwilling
To emerge out of the fluffy dark clouds.
I would have pledged Immortality if I had
For a sound but for my own strained breaths
For a soul but for mine and the surly trees'.

With not the silliest distraction, whatsoever
I embarked to entertain my bored spirits
With questions that lay unasked in normality.
The instinctual queries buried in the mundane

Like spill marks cleaned by soot of the stove.

What was perishable, and what was not?
The dead leaves I sit upon, I understand
Once lived, haughty with an upward spine
Today they lay tread upon by the likes of me
Dust shall win,  Dust they will some day be.

Speaking of leaves, I wonder about me

When my time comes, what would  I be?

The early rays shone through the leaves above
The fog of the night before rapidly clearing
There I sat, dissolving into my foggy mind,
Staring at the crisp brown leaves at my feet

Leathered knights

If you had a friend who spoke behind your back and she had a birthday (Stupid thing, Comes every year!) which you cannot pretend to have carelessly forgotten, what do you gift her? Definitely not a Card which says how wonderful a friend she is (Unless she has a Conscience, which we obviously do not expect her to have!). Not a delicious looking cake (Unless she was chalking up a diet plan the day before). So what do you gift her? Something that publicly says 'I care', but killing her at the same time. A gift thats right for her, a gift that is totally like her... 'A Pair of the prettiest shoes on sale' (Caution: One size smaller than her feet). Spice it up with the comment "I never knew you had such graceful feet" and you are done!

Though I haven't had much experience with such mean friends, I have had considerable exposure to the mean shoes to tell you it is a safe bet. Blessed with much-bigger-than-normal feet all my life,  I have seen both heaven and hell (the latter more frequently). My respect for the middlemen who take the thorns and god-knows-what on the roads with the grace of armoured knights often baffles me and I end up often at the counter of these shops. I have been lucky with may such Successful Transactions, I daresay.

Inspite of all that, the curse of big feet lingers. That combined with my favoring prejudice results in smaller shoes all the time. The leather knights (and their non-leather half-brothers as well) turn out to be traitors and bite off the feet that bought them. I try and try harder to discipline them as I walk around with blistering ankles and scratched toes maintaining poise and grace inspite of the desperate inner voice yelling to shrug them off. Though this looks bad, the nightmare is yet to come.

If walking the onward journey was a prick, even thinking about the return journey is a death blow. Still I am bound by position co-ordinates to walk 400 feet in the metric system or 1000 miles in the worn-out foot system to reach back home and I consider every form of mechanized transport to shorten the journey (This might not be completely true. I was even comtemplating an idea of a lift with the buffaloes). Fast-forwarding the 1000 miles and the flight of stairs, I lay back with both me and my big feet, breathing for the first time in what seemed like forever. I give up on the idea of training my shoes, feeling too peaceful to put them back in their fancy box.

Unlucky angel

To the stars of the world, I beg,
To the cracked up moon, I plead,
"Stay longer, Stay for an hour or more;
Don't yield too soon the light of Dawn.
Lying on this torn mat, cruelly serene,
With a baby face blistered by the sun,
Is a fated angel who picked rags all day;
He may look shabby with unbrushed hair
But when he smiles, oh, when he smiles,
He spreads beauty to the miles around.
His dreams might never come true
His childhood could be blighted forever
But, Please let his fancy dreams continue
Don't yield too soon the light of Dawn."

Wander not!

Don't wander off too far, My careless pollen dots
For however long a ride you choose to take
The Wind is cetainly gonna let you down.

The weeds to the north are rough,
You wouldn't stand a chance
The rocks to the west are hard
Not many have cracked the stone.
Not to the big tree east nor to the west
Stay right here in the shade of my leaves.
.
Though there is swamp near my roots
And Rocks don't let our heads show,
Though no one sees our pretty colours
Wander not, my tiny pollen dots
Stay right below my infamous leaves.

My mirrors miss me

It is fine if you can't see my heart
I'll find someone to play your part.
But today you've lost your chance
To take my side in the last dance.
Honey, If the roads could talk
They would scream as I walk
"Let go of the hate holding you down
With that you weigh like a tonne"
When I think of your poker face
It feels like I have been drowning.
My mirror is bored with my frown
Its time to repaint the big smiles,
Strut through the last few miles.

Plain memories

Short glimpses through my mind

There are no perfect moments

But still I go blurred kinda blind.

I don't want to cry

Still I let another tear drop

Its not the funny jokes we cracked

Nobody's hurt in these clouded visions

Its just you and your pretty face

Nothing important..

Still that is all I can remember.

Shaking my head like a wet dog

Trying to get you outta my mind,

I wanna stop, I don't wanna cry

Still I let down another drop.

I look out the bus window

Gaze at the shops that disappear

A random hoarding has your name

I start smiling, who am I to blame?

The letters blur, visions reappear

I don't wanna cry

But I let down another drop.

Today ends at twelve tonight

They never told her that the lights were out

She didn't know how she ended up at the spot

Nobody told her there was gonna be a stage

Nobody was there cheering for her in the crowd.

She could walk away and wake up tomorrow

Stay invisible, forget today like it was a nightmare

And keep dreaming of today everyday in her life

But today doesn't comes again after twelve tonight.

Dreams can't make her what she wants to be

She's gotta shine herself through the blackout

Stay right there even with rotten eggs at her foot

'Coz even a stage without lights is too hard to get.

Doesn't matter if she was never a superstar,

If that is what she dreams every night

She's gotta shine, gotta smile and be the light

Today will never come back after twelve tonight.

Falling stars

When I am done telling everythin in my heart 

All those stupid secrets I never should've kept

What I think of when I am all by myself

Why I sometimes look lost in a dream

You will see how life could have been.

Give me a chance to play it all again

I still wouldn't get the words on my lips

Now that I can see how we could have been

I still wouldn't say 'coz thats who I am.

I wish you could hear my unspoken words

And see that I care more than you ever did.

It is too much to ask for, more than I deserve

Still I'll keep praying on every falling star

'Coz they never'll be said, the secrets I have kept.