Love Chase

He froze in his tracks as she walked out of the gates of a building. 

She seemed magical. Ethereal. He was enchanted- and he knew, right then, without a doubt: She was The One.

As if in a trance, he followed her. He could no more help admiring her graceful gait and the seductive sway of her hips than a moth could help being drawn to a flame. Oh, those short, sweet legs had reeled him in hook, line and sinker. 

The vision of loveliness paused in front of him to smell the flowers growing by the sides of the street. In profile, he could now appreciate the smooth curve of her nose, her eyelids drooping to half-mast. He yearned- oh, how he yearned- for those honey brown eyes (he was sure they would be honey brown- certainly, God wouldn't be so cruel as to cheat him of THAT!) to look at him.

"Look at me, look at me!" was a chant fervently reverberating in his mind. Yet, he was almost terrified of that moment when she would turn him. Would he be able to glide to her, all suave and glib?- or would he just stand there, petrified, his tongue lolling out? AAARGH!!! This whole falling in love business was too agonizing to bear!

Unfortunately (fortunately?), she proceeded on without a glance behind her. He gazed at the smooth perfection of the curve of her ears. Suddenly, another mortifying thought struck him. She was fair, and soooo very angelic! What if she wasn't into brown haired guys? What if she didn't dig his long, long, LONG nose? What if.... she had a thing for The Very Tall, The Very Dark, and The Very Fierce ? (Shudder!!!)

WHY??!! Why was this happening to him? He couldn't possibly let his sweetheart be snatched by some dark dude with more bulk than sense!!! Especially not when his sweetheart didn't yet know she was his sweetheart! No, no, no, no, no!

While he was thus occupied, she stopped again, this time to humour the playful gamboling of little pups chasing around her. He caught his breath as he glimpsed a tender, sweet something in those meltingly warm honey brown (Thank You, God!) eyes. No creature on Earth had ever seemed to him as beautiful as she did now...

This was IT, he decided. It was now or never. He just HAD to go upto her, or he might lose her to Another forver! He thought he might go mad just THINKING of those built, phony dudes with the thickly laid-on phony gruffness in heir voices grabbing HIS girl.

After the first couple of tentative steps, he rushed after her. Nothing would hold him back now, NOTHING! 

He was just a few steps away from her now... The sunlight glistened in her fair hair. 

Almost there... He caught a waft of her alluring scent. 

Just. A. Step. More. 

He thought he might scare her off with his intensity- but then again, he might just swoon.

He was there! Gently, but with all the leashed fire of his passion, he sniffed her sweet behind.

"Oye! Get away, you filthy mongrel!"

It was her human. The nasty two-legged creature was dragging his precious love away from him, not giving her one chance to set eyes on him. 

His own master came toward him from the oposite side of the street, biscuit and leash in hand. My eyes returned of their own accord to Her.

Sometimes, Life can brutally tear your heart out and stomp all over it, like it was so much road-kill. It was doing just that now. To me. My heart was being wrenched out of my chest like-

"Pheeew! That's it, Roger! No more papaya for you, you disgusting mutt," said Jack, my human. 

Heaving a sigh from the very bottom of my soul ("Ugh!" said Jack, again), I went with him to drown my sorrow in some Pedigree- and hopefully, some stolen, no, borrowed papaya. 

Sweet Revenge

Summon him who invented the Exam!
Let's see how he likes to mug up and cram
Science, Logic, Mathematics,
(Throw in some metaphysics);
Bet the prospect alone should make him scram!

To lead, or NOT to lead? That is the question.

I wonder what it is about power and authority that scares and excites me so much... It makes me a glutton and a coward at one and the same time! When the opportunity comes along, for me to take charge, I vacillate between taking the bull by its horns and running the other way .
But I have discovered that I am the sort of person to revel in the limelight, and also the sort to blissfully hold up other powers' pennants. That should solve my problem for me, shouldn't it? But no, I still don't know when the time is right for me to take charge and when I should sit back and let the others take the wheel...
(I seem to have messed up my metaphors throughout this load of gobbledygook that I've typed out of sheer ennui, but you get the gist of what I wanted to say, didn't you?)

Growing up.

She sat by the window sill,
Brooding- her sad eyes settled
Unseeing on the fireplace grill-
Her mind with memories filled.

How the years had taken their toll
On this once bright-eyed, happy sprite.
Though worries had swallowed her whole,
Never did she give up the fight.

Of a sudden, sounds the faint cry
Of an infant: and how her eyes
Brightened- like lilies in July!
Oh, how the sorrow fled her eyes!

He was the anchor of her life
When of harmony there was none.
He was born of a bitter strife
That a lapse of reason had begun.

Silly blunder, though it had been,
Its outcome was a precious life.
For him had she resolved to win:
'Round her son, now revolved her life.

True, it had made her quite a drudge;
Nonetheless, so full was her cup,
Indeed never would she begrudge
Those fine days she spent growing up.

Pessimism and Posterity

We all know the stereotype of youngsters- that they're innocent and easily led. We think they're either naively optimistic or are blank of opinions. But what happens when we meet a young person, who's just barely done with his teens, who hates the country he lives in? This person expressed in no uncertain terms, nor in mild ones, that he thought that our country is 'going to the dogs' and that Kalam's 'dreams' are just that- irreality. He insisted that India's plans of becoming a developed nation are at least a 100 years away, and that the process cannot be sped in any way. Not even if the youngsters of our nation 'awake and take lead', because our country just isn't ready for it. The calls and cries for the young of our nation to take charge of our corrupt country are premature and are contradicted by the hypocritic politicians.
Now having listened to this bitter and cynical tirade, what can one do but to say, "Our time will come"? If one man so young loses all hope, then doesn't it make you think how many more out there are thinking "US is US, Japan is Japan, but India will always be only India"?
Well, listen up, young India- a little bit of realistic optimism goes a long way. A little bit of patriotism will take India all the way.

My world of Poetry

Poetry isn't just for the scholar.
It's a world you're free to enter:
Where you may rock and rhyme,
Relive moments in time,
And fool around with grammar!

Torpescence

Of all the most terrible jinxes
Is the curse of feeling aimless.
Just imagine how hard it would be
Never to know what you'd like to be.
Imagine roaming around always,
Like through a convoluted maze.
Imagine watching others focus
To achieve a definite purpose,
You yourself feeling lost and empty-
Feeling with naught an affinity.

My Definition Of Music...

This atrociously bad piece of "poetry " is what you get when someone like me tries to define something as abstract as music:

Music makes me
Soar.
Music makes me
Alive.
Music makes me
Roar.
Music makes me
Thrive.
Music makes me
Cry.
Music makes me
Dream.
Music makes me
High.
Music makes me
Scream.
Music makes me
Oblivious.
Music makes me
Aspire.
Music makes me
Lascivious.
Music makes me
Perspire.
Music makes me
Relive.
Music makes me
Sympathize.
Music makes me
Forgive.
Music makes me
Brutalize.
Music makes me
Abuzz.
Music is as music does.

Progress India!

I'll let my cartoon speak for itself, 'coz a cartoon is worth a million words- (ten million, if u still don't get the joke!)...

My Unwaning Whim

I wonder if I'm falling sick...
Suddenly, I'm glib; my rhymes click!
Is it just a phase?
That'll last some days?
Or a chronic craze with limericks?

The Scribal Malady

Encompassing wall, hard as rock,
Ages of bearing naught but schlock,
Feckless hours of toil,
Restless mind's turmoil-
All signs of one with Writer's Block. :P

My first attempt at a haiku: Happy Bee :)

Empty spaces filled
The heart's desires granted
The bee drones away.

The City's Bane

Pitter-pat! Pitter-pat! comes the rain
And sloshes affably down the lane-
Up goes the umbrella,
Down goes a poor fella
Into a manhole: the city's bane!

A Lost Soul

Wherfore this fraction of the mind?
I frantically gather about me
The shards of my Self, my Soul-
Oh, the depths I go to to find
My own Holy Grail, the key
To once more make my Soul whole!
But shrouded in the dark am I-
This dreaded amorphousness
I fight hard in vain to dispel.
Out of my profound despair I cry
For someone to grant me egress
From this dark, miserable hell.

Whence comest thou, dreadful chasm?
I forged castles to get lost in,
Till all that was left behind was
A mere spectre, a phantasm.
Spooky void, you sucked me within,
Tormenting me with my own flaws.
Doomed to regret those long years
Of stealing and living in shadows
That belonged to other souls.
I erred to escape my fears:
So am i condemned to chaos,
Cursed to pay this hefty toll.

Quagmire

Life
Is ______ tough.
It ______ brings _Strife,
Wisdom_ and ___Love-- _enough
To ______help __ you __ realize _that
To ______love, __ to ___ learn, __ to _combat
Are _____one ___ and __the ______same.
Life'll ___tear __ you __ asunder;
Unless __ you're _game
To _____ flounder
Through.

A penny for my thoughts

What is it about parents and over-cautiousness?
A friend of mine, A, invited another of my friends, P, to the PEACE convention. The Peace convention, as you may or may not know, is a convention that helps people better understand Islam. P was invited, even though she wasn't a Muslim because she'd been interested in knowing more about other religions. She'd been asking her Muslim friends several questions about their religion and practices. Her mother is an intelligent woman, who's studied plenty of psychology at the PG level. P had no reason to doubt that she wouldn't be allowed to attend the convention- but when she asked her mother for permission to go, she was refused. She was told point-blank that she was NOT to go to the convention- "not even if there were marks to attend this''. P was taken aback. P's mom had always been reasonable as a parent. But this flat refusal of permission set P's back up, and made her feel rebellious. Of course, P didn't go so far as to actually attend this convention against her mom's orders, but she did take perverse pleasure in talking to her mom about how interesting she found Islam and of how her friends encourage her interests. P knew perfectly well that she was acting puerile, but all the same, she knew what her mother had done was a misjudged and immature step in parenting.
I know that adults always think that the teenagers usually think they know best. But teenagers of this day and age are a lot mature, in spite of the evidence to the contrary. I also believe parents should be more careful than ever with their parenting techniques, because kids really are smarter than before.
Besides, what P's mother did was so obviously ill-judged, it was bound to cause misunderstandings between mother and daughter. Reverse Psychology had reared its ugly head!

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Here's a poem i read that gave me goosebumps, and that i have committed to memory: (i have my friend neeraja to thank for putting it in my way... :*)

DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

My Point Of Vuw

life is difikult for a kid.
adults dont ever see it.
coz they must be stupid.

life is tuf for kids, yu no.
coz we got skool an teechers an bulees
but adults got mony an cars an hair to gro.

mum an dady dipres me with rools,
pupees an kitees get grownd up real fast,
an big bruthers go away to big boys skool.

so i wish i gro real kwik too.
then i cud do whatever i want;
like stay up late an wer lipstik.

so, god, help me get all grownd up.
i promise ill be ever so gud.
pretty plees with cherees on top?

Liar, Liar - Pants on fire?

Did you ever get the feeling
That all the world's a stage?
Not just the way ol' Will meant it,
But like it's really all a mirage?

He is, by day, a regular jock,
And, by night, a closet pianist.
She is apparently Ms. Trunchbull Reincarnated,
But dreams of full moons, dewey roses and silver mists.

One way on the outside,
Another way in-
But, I guess, the question is:
Would it count as sin?

If a son puts his mum's heart at ease,
Or if a boy wins true 'dream love'
With the aid of a tiny white lie,
Would it be chalked up in heaven above?

Sighhhh... Who's to say? Who'd know?
But this one thing I did figure:
Some lies win out, others bite back,
Yet it's hard not to envy the smooth liar!

German Elfchen

Violett
Die Fantasie
Die Fantasie verschluckt mir
Mag ich sie?
Leider!

Schwarz
Die Nacht
Was ist passiert, denn?
Ich träume viel.
Aufstehe!

Weiß
Der Schloss
Wo ist die Prinzessin?
Kommt sie nicht?
Schau!

Gelb
Mein Vater
Nicht mehr mit mir
Wer ist da?
Wer?

Dearly Beloved Ma'am...

Who are you, dear lady?
A stranger were you, when you entered my life;
Yet, you seemed so familiar when you smiled at me:
A smile born of heart-felt adoration and sincere love of me-
A smile I had only seen, before,
On my parents' faces on countless occasions and more.

Who are you, good lady?
You seem never to be at a loss of cheers for me
When I have accomplished something or the other;
You have never failed to console me
When my spirits were sore, owing to some failure;
You are always a pillar of strength, courage and wisdom,
That, during trying times, I've come to rely upon.

"Who are you?" I ask
You pray to god everyday so I may prosper.
You make sacrifices, so I may be happier.
You dedicate your life to preparing me for Life.
You toil, so the world may be filled with Samaritans in future.

Let me tell you who I think you are:
You are a very gifted sculptor,
Who strives to mould young, innocent and ignorant minds
Into young, caring and wise men and women,
So that, with their able young shoulders, they may
Step forth and bear the world some day.

Who are you, kind lady?
Why, I would fain call you my friend.
My mentor, guide; even an angel, a God-send.
Indeed, I would call you my cherished preserver,
Though the world may prefer to call you my Teacher.

Fly away, little birdie!

We were just as a bunch of chicks
Peeping anxiously over the edge of our nest,
Hoping for a glimpse of our future, our destiny.
But you smiled at us your sweet, maternal smile,
Assuring us, "All will work out for the best."

It is nearly time for us to fly away from home,
To try our little wings against storms and gales.
We hop tentatively onto the edge of our nest,
And we look back into your lovingly reassuring eyes
That tell us, "The pure hearted never fail."

Pardon the analogy, but nothing else could compare
To the bountiful love and affection you've given us;
Nothing fit our feelings about you more snugly,
Nor was enough to explain to you and to the world
Just how much of a dear you are to us!

Little Miss Mary

Mary had a little pig.
Its ticks were white as snow.
They were so juicy and big,
And she loved to eat them so...

But every time she tried to,
Papa bleats would appear, strict and stern
So she'd hide herself in the loo
And poor Papa'd wait hours for his turn.

"Mary, Mary!" yelled Papa.
"Yes, Papa?" screamed Mary.
"Eating ticks?" asked Papa.
"No, Papa!" screeched Mary.

"Telling lies?" thundered Papa.
"No, Papa!!" Lied Mary.
"Open the door!" shouted Papa.
"Fat chance!" mocked Mary.

Then Mary decided to run away
'Coz Papa wouldn't let her eat bugs anymore,
And Mary just HAD to have her way-
'Sides, Papa always was such a dead bore!

Miles away, a Jack and a Jill
Fell prey to Cupid's arrows.
So they went and checked into The Hill,
But found it much too gross!

They found tons of termites everywhere-
Not to mention the bed bugs!
But because there were no other rooms to spare,
They fell to attacking them with drugs!

Suddenly, someone burst in!
Lo, and behold! It was Mary Bleats!
She thought it an ugly sin
To waste all those yummy treats...

So fast did she gobble up the bugs,
Mr. Hotel Manager hired her as exterminator!
So Jack and Jill made Mary (alias Bugs)
Their friend and lived together happily ever after.

Paranoia

Often we hear of an ardent lover
Whose mistress knows no greater joy
Than to please him who stole her heart;
Be it with ways bold, funny or coy.

But soon comes the day
When neither proof nor entreaty
Convinces the jealous lover
Of his beloved's unbending fidelity.

Paranoia, that blinding devil,
Hunts with arrows of envy, doubt and ire.
So you end up hurting and saddening
All those you love, respect or admire.

Two friends, inseparable of old,
Now unable even to like one another,
Turned enemies, thanks to paranoia!
A presumed 'betrayal' did a friendship smother.

Think you have a dearth of foes?
Then just stop trusting a friend.
For no building lacking cement lasts long;
Likewiseis a trustless friendship easy to end.

Yet another tale we hear, of a wife
Doubting her husband's loyalty...
They don't seem to find trust any more
Hence the divorce, a harsh, scary reality.

Got a relationship you want to ruin?
Then just take on an obsession-
There's no quicker way to kill love
Than to strangle it with suspicion.

A Twilight Stroll Along The Beach

It is time for a stroll along the beach-
It is a bitter-sweet need of my heart;
Ambling along, my hair tossed by sultry winds,
People milling about, skating, jogging,
Laughing, cuddling, playing gossiping;
Bikes drone, cars sail and vendors call.
Breathing in salty pollution- the kind you'd not notice,
I look beyond the ocean of water, of life,
To the half-hearted sun setting behind a distant cloud,
While over my shoulder peeps a sickle moon
With a one solitary star, twinkling shyly from above.
Twilight bids me goodbye and reminds me
To hurry back home, back along the beach.