In Love - Poetry

I

Darkness drags its feet.

deliquesce denied.

Caught in the dark locks of her hair.

thy night continued.

II

Thy voice of the breeze

singing;

Thy strands of her hair 

dancing –
Perennial persiflage

III

Celibate moon

withers;

In tethers-

not able to break

Through her window screens!!

IV

Vulpine straits;

storm torrents;

Turbulent currents; 

sails torn, 

tears forlorn-

but he still rows- 

for she is waiting for him.

Author's Note:
 It has been quite a while since I blogged. When I wanted to restart blogging I wanted to post something light and memorable - some of old poetry (that I tweeted a while back). Hope you guys like them.

"Her nightmare": My entry for the Get Published contest

The Idea-

Yes. The fiction is about love. Not just that ephemeral string of amber tones between the lovers themselves. It is about the tight bonds that are strained between the parents and their kids involved. A youngster in the final year of her engineering graduation gets caught red handed by her mother while chatting with her lover in skype.

Of course, she is placed in a well reputed MNC. Her career is secure.

Of course, she has always been given ample freedom to make her own decisions.

Of course, her parents have always been more friends and guides than the conservative meaning of the word.

Of course, the boy she loved is a senior executive working in management sector, is a responsible guy earning handsomely, not just loved her but cared about every aspect of her and her family.

Their love was heartfelt.

But, all that’s for naught, when her mother confronts her with the raw fact that she had to find out about her daughter’s love like a third person. Just by accident.

What Makes This Story ‘Real’

The first serious problem lovers face, confrontation with their parents. It’s inspired by my own friend and her parents – as they try making sense of the spiraling realities of love.

Extract-

“What were you doing?” her mother’s crisp voice prodded

“Nothing” She said staring at her mother standing at the doorway.

“Do you want me to believe that” her mother asked as she came into the room and sat down on her bed.

The clock stuck two; its chimes ringing across the silent room, jumping from one blank wall to another slowly dissolving into the darkness of the night. The fan continued in its merry go round, a dull creak with every other round, probably just not merry enough. And despite all those swirls of air, that it threw forth, she started to sweat.

“Who were you chatting to” her mother’s voice was eerily calm.

“No one” She blurted out, the words tumbling out of her and slipping into open.

“No one??”

“Yes, no one”

Her mother sighed. “You forgot to switch off the modem and the web camera. The computer itself is still running.” She paused and looked at her daughter’s widening eyes.

“Was it in Skype?? Who was he? You were chatting with”

“Who??” she mouthed back. The actual words never crossed her throat; they just suffocated themselves rather than lying to her mother again. She looked up at her mother, tearing herself up into pieces, not knowing what to say. She felt her fingers through her loose hair, caressing with all the love and then a stifled tear shot across her cheeks.

“It’s okay. Please don’t lie” her mother shifted herself to hold her head to her bosom.

“It’s just that ” her mother paused “after all the freedom I gave you, after all the open environment I provided, after everything” her voice wavered for the first time “I ….. I had to learn it like this.”

Endnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

Love her smile- A poem

The Poem-

Of Latin celebrated;

Coliseum scarlet painted;

An epoch of aristocracy sainted;

Their;

Dagger tips tainted;

Lips regal anointed;

Matins of a Red satin empire

A culture cooped on attire;

Strung,

Sung &

Cremated.

In a land of Caesars departed-

In Rome –

The home of glass blowing;

Silica Silver warm & glowing;

Fair slivers of-

Flair Rivers;

A million colors; them pillion weavers-

Raining away those brush strokes of light;

Loaning away lush rainbows in flight;

Glazes of glass;

Lazes in class;

Shades shivering in pastels & all ells;

Shimmering allure; their simmering azure;

   

Such a lovely art; of arcane sort;

Simply lost!

Quite simply lost!!

All the etchings; plaid in pane;

Glass blowing in plain;

Simple lost!

Quite simple lost!!

Its mystery lost-

And all she did was simply smile.

Just smile.

The dip of her lips;

The curve of its nips;

The Dew drop dimples;

The few prop pimples;

Her crimson smile

Thy blooming isle;

With summer's sparkle;

A bit of winter's crinkle-

Just let her smile-

Just once, Oh please-

Just... Let her smile

Oh!! for 

I love her. 

I love her. 

I love her smile.

Author's note-

I wanted to write a poem where the smile of a girl is put in a sublime and poetic way. Hope you guys like it. I learnt the facts of glass blowing and the influence of roman empire on it from wikipedia. Kindly look into it, if interested further.

The Puberty Talk-

The following contains material of mature discussion between my sister and myself and reader discretion is strongly advised. The author does not intend to hurt anyone’s ethics nor their cultural perceptions. The issues raised are but a fragment of quite a few pertinent questions that creep around the fringes of our mind, concealed, camouflaged and forgotten but still breathing, pulsing and very much alive.

The Snap-

Sis- “I wonder why it’s that hard for parents to teach their own kids about Sex, their menstrual periods, related stuff. I think they don’t really know the kind of misinformation that’s rampant among teens especially girls.”

Myself- “Misinformation really. I honestly thought that with internet, face book, chatting and stuff, kids today are more knowledgeable than ever.”

Sis- “You THINK??”

Myself- “Wow, you sound pretty raw!! Why what happened?”

Sis- “hmhm… My friends and I were discussing about our first periods, the way our parents handled us, the problems that we faced, our first education on hygiene during periods and so on …………. and I heard some pretty fucked up stories; Stories that I know to be true but just cannot digest the reality of them.”

Myself- “Okay….”

Sis- “you do know my old roommate! Right? Did you know that she actually believed that she had cancer when she had her first periods? She misinterpreted her bleeding to be associated with cancer and assumed that she was going to die. Imagine her terror as she struggled mentally for 2 months with that misunderstood fact! Thankfully, her mother caught her bleeding during the third month and that put an end to her misery.”

Myself-“Wow- that’s pretty hard to take in”

Sis- “Okay, then you are not going to believe a word of the next one. Happened to one of my class mates. She had her first periods. Her mother helped her clean up. They had the usual ceremony* marking her first menstrual cycle. Then they went on with their lives. They never really talked about what happened. And now again, imagine the state of the girl when her second period starts. She was not just flabbergasted with the unexpected bleeding but ill equipped to handle the situation when it occurred to her in school. Sordid chagrin of a memory.”

Myself-“I…..... I don’t know what to say!!”  

Sis-“Yeah, it does feels daunting! Right? To acknowledge that matured adults are pretty much fumbling in the dark when it comes to dealing with issues on teaching their own children stuff such as periods and sex in a sensible manner. It’s not like I want to generalize but I think the majority of those who rant about the preservation of culture fall under this same category.”

Myself- “hmhm… yeah, that argument can be made. And yes, honesty with regard to such issues between kids and parents are pretty low. But still I am at loss for words. How can such extremes of ignorance exist?”

Sis-“hmhm…  It’s hard to reason it out or explain. In a society such as ours where people want to preserve the idea that they are culturally enigmatic, sometimes gives rise to some pretty messed up scenarios. Some even hilarious!! You know, what happened to me!! ”

Myself- “WHAT?? ”

Sis-  “After my first period mom was explaining to me about hygiene with regard to tampon usage and its proper disposal. You know how she is – quite a stickler for keeping things neat and compartmentalized. She was explaining to me that the best way to manage the stuff to be used during periods was by keeping a separate bag for all the pads and wipes being used. Then she gave bag for me and instructed me to start using it. It was then that I saw a similar bag on the credenza and asked her about it. She shrugged nonchalantly and told me, it was her own bag for her own periods. I looked at her appalled and blurted out “You too have the same periods!!!” ”

* In Tamil Culture, the first Menstrual cycle of the girl is celebrated as a customary ceremony of welcoming her into adulthood. 

Author’s note-

This is not an effort to impart any knowledge, nor any solutions to  bridge the gap that exists between the parents and their child when discussions pertaining to issues of sex, menstruation, hygiene and such are concerned.(I am hardly hardly an expert.) It is just a confirmation of the issues that are at hand and are eating away at the rims of our society. I just want people to take notice. Just want them to ponder for a few seconds. Just want them to be aware. Nothing more. Nothing less. Hence the succinct and sharp tone of the post. 

Navratri - 55 fiction:

Note - This post is dedicated to Navratri, with each story depicting one of the nine forms of Goddess Shakthi.

The Snap-

Story 1: Durga – The invincible:

They waited; hyenas relishing the anticipation of the kill. The waiting game will pay. She will get exhausted; will break; will deliver. They have the whole night.

Moments melded into minutes; minutes into hours.

The dawn broke. They ran leaving 2 of their buddies at her feet bleeding, the knife still in her hand, her eyes still burning.

Story 2: Bhadrakali – The auspicious:

The kid raced through the fields laughing at the top of her voice. The wind swiveled through her loose hair as she tumbled into her father’s open arms. He lifted her over his shoulders with a surplus smile on his lips. 

Nothing new; Nothing much; He did not really care when celebrating his daughter’s youth.

Story 3: Amba – The Mother:

Her child slipped and fell down with a tearing shriek. The pain jack sawed through his tender body. She rushed to her child, dried his tears, cajoled him, checked him for serious wounds, cleaned the mud off him and she left him alone.

Left him alone to pick himself up once again.

Story 4: Annapoorna Devi – The Provider:

She could never breast feed her baby. The doctors were kind enough to explain with patience. But all she heard in the damning silence was her own soul wailing.

Hard decisions; harder to live through them; Months passed.

She never breast fed and her kid’s still healthy. She sighed. Love cannot be breast fed.

Story 5: Sarvamangala – The joyous:

She always laughed loudly; especially after arriving there. Her voracious mirth; verbally signed; Deep and sonorous; lucid and warm guffaws; brimming with unsaid humor; listless possibilities and life in abundance; the happy echoes reverberated not just with air, sweeping through corridors of the old age home, touching and cuddling the few listening souls.

Story 6: Bhairavi – The Fierce:

The sickle in her hand moved with a practiced rhythm as they went through all the unwanted weeds. Their dry roots were torn apart from the earth without mercy. After going through the entire field, she sighed with satisfaction.

The land owner paid her in full without any questions. She still had the sickle in her hand.

Story 7: Chandika – The Supreme:

Chaos reigned. Chairs were thrown. Curses exchanged. Parties formed. Favors fished. Violence sought. Bullies brought. Politics played. Nobody was listening to nobody; Bedlam on riot.

She came into the room with a brisk walk. A deep hush was followed by a warm greeting of the kindergarten kids wishing their teacher Good morning.

Story 8: Lalita – The Beautiful:

She sat on her bed, staring at the mirror. A frail old woman stared at her back with drooping breasts, generous age lines, white wisps of hair, pale pallor, wrinkled skin, over her bent body. She sighed to herself.

“The years had been kind”. Her husband whispered to her “you still have the brightest smile”

Story 9: Bhavani – The merciful:

Her chubby ten year old eyes looked at him with a sad glint.

“I am not able to break the chocolate into two.”

“Oh” his squeaky voice responded, his eyes caught between her and the small spherical candy.

“Shall we wait” she asked thinking for a while. “For another same chocolate,... then share.... eat??”

Author’s Note-

I wanted to bring out the different faces of Goddess Shakthi - with simple everyday women. I took the help of Wikipedia to get to know all the forms of Shakthi and then, wrote stories that best suited the various shades of their nature. I wish all of my friends, reading this post- a Subh Navratri. 

For people, interested to know more about Navratri - a prominent Indian festival, kindly follow the link here. I have avoided putting many pictures, so as not to disturb the flow of the fiction and also, no to disrupt the respect for the Goddess that the festival and the idea of the fiction is based on. 

Good bye my love - A poem

Snap-

The poem-

Oh! I will forget, just like them fingers in my hand, babe-

As they strum thy guitar strings

Rapid strokes of mambo jambo-

To the rhythm my heart rings.

A single solo I sing,

Of a man gone hollow-

Breathing sorrow- with each and every ping!

Oh … Yeah!  We danced around with words, babe;

Of the few that were said;

One or two- here and there; Nothing more than that;

Too much a-bare; too much to bear;

Like the distant stars in a lonely sky;

We scattered them too much-

And in darkness, they were.

Waiting for you, girl- Just waiting for you.

To reach out with your hand- babe, them five member band;

Thy strumming; ramming at my heart;

For with each and every move, your warm eyes tend to move;

I root alone for me- for you to look at me

And say something- girl.

My jumping parts are praying thy lord;

Say something girl; Just anything, my girl.

Oh yeah! I am just a fool;

Laying in my pool of a few bitter tears- dried long ago,

My last words to you- a simple song for you;

Hewed broken sods- just if you may;

Just before I leave, somewhere away,

Ahoy in a sway!

But my girl- Don’t you worry,

I am never sad- Nothing’s ever bad.

My love for you will always be there; so bitter and so sweet;

Not that I notice- my own parts; of those young and jumping sorts,

Just like I forgot the fingers of my hand,

Strumming along with me,

Humming alone with me,

Good bye, my love –

One last good bye, my love.

Author's note-

Last night as I was listening to Bob Dylan, It stuck me how simple and lucid his lines were, yet so sharp and honest that they carried his pain, anguish, thought across. And hence I was inspired to write the above poem and I dedicate the same poem to his legend. I tried to model the theme of the song around one of my own favorites "Don't think twice, Its alright" by Bob Dylan. I kept the lyrics quite simple. Hope you guys like it.

And for people, who haven't listened to Bob Dylan, Guys, you just don't know what you are missing. Bob Dylan is the guy who gave the lyrics not just meaning but soul. His songs "Blowing in the wind" and "Times they are a-changing" are anti-war revolutions. The man is a cultural icon, his music an ode to the times that there were, the times that will be. Do listen to him.

PS-

Well, I have tagged - New technique, since I wrote the poetry more as a song to be sung rather than a poem to be read and yeah, I tagged the same with social problems. I mean what's more than a social problem than a heart break nowadays. What say?? :P

Soak no more !! – a short fiction

The Snap-

The fiction-

“But mom, I just wanted to save you time.” A tiny voice justified.

“So, you soaked the clothes yourself.”

The rain drenched kid looked up with pride. “Yes, yes, just like you do before washing”

 “Yeah” she said with a suppressed grin “but I usually don’t wear them when soaking…”

“Okay” her kid said quite obediently. “Next time I will remember it”

It was then she burst out laughing. 

Author's note-

I wanted to write a small but a sweet fiction for - The Surf Excel Matic #soaknomore Contest. And I wanted the kid's gender to be ambiguous so that more people can relate to the fiction. Hope you guys like it.

The wounds will heal- A 55 fiction.

The Snap-

The fiction- 

“Hold still.”

“Hmhm.”

“I will be done in a minute.”

“Hmhm.”

“It will take a couple of days. But it will heal.”

“Hmhm.”

“Try not to strain yourself until the wounds heal.”

“Hmhm”

And just after he bandaged her, he stammered “I….. am sorry”

Silence fell hard, for once harder than his thrashes.

Author's Note-

When people read my post - Two minutes- A short story, I was asked whether the fiction was about domestic violence. While answering back to those comments, I was inspired to write a shot fiction about the same topic. I wanted the story to be brutal, realistic and hard hitting. Hope you guys like it.

ps-

I am experimenting with my blog's appearance, so guys I would like to have your comments on the topic. Thank you.

Her primary Colors- A set of 55 fictions

The Snap-

The fiction-

His deliverance- (the blue story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

A few shadows turned back shocked at the dry nonchalance pouting from her voice.

He left. Not once did he turn back.

Perhaps guilt finally saved him from her burning eyes.

Tears poured along her remaining tatters but then she was not going to build her family on another one destroyed.

The snap-

The tail/tale of the giant asshole- (the green story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

“That’s it” He retorted.

She sighed. Men can be giant assholes at times. Perhaps they are all the time. It just misses getting noticed.

“No” she calmly replied. “There could have been more but then, didn’t we just find out you have a wife. Now get lost. I am nobody’s substitute.”

The snap-

Cookie jar delicacies- (the red story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

A kid caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. He blinked at her and his wife standing at her doorway.

“What’s happening?” His voice wavered slightly.

“Oh, I called her. Nothing personal. It’s just that” She paused. “I hate it when men play women for fools.”

Author's note-

Some time back, I wrote a similar set of 55 fictions, with the same starting theme but ending in different ways. I tried the same with the idea to write responses of women on finding out that the guy they were seriously dating was already married. I wanted 3 of them, so that they will each represent different reactions based on primary colors, hence the name of the title. I wanted the endings to be bitter sweet, not a totally morbid one.

Practice makes a (Wo) man perfect - A 55 fiction

The Snap -

 

The fiction -

It ended abruptly. No scratching, snarling, rank abusing, tearing of clothes, pulling of hair, biting, nails trying to plough through skin like any other cat fight.

A single blow to the jaw was all it took.

“You can ….. Really Punch” The spectators stammered amazed.

“Yeah” She shrugged. “I have an elder brother to practice on”

Author’s note - 

Quite a while back, I asked my sister what she will do in case someone’s trying to hurt her, really hurt her. She thought for a while and said that she will use her nails on him. But then, nails won’t really do much damage and it will never save anybody in case of a physical skirmish. In fact, I told her that the only thing long nails are good for is to look good her. That’s when I talked her into learning a few basics of self defense and how to punch.

The easy part was teaching part - how to make a strong fist that will direct the punch, not divert it, how to maximize the force of the punch and so on, the hard part started when she started to practice on me and from there it went to worse and worse as she got better and better. And nowadays, when I anger her, she sweetly lets me know with a sharp punch or two. Courtesy - of course my own selfless punching lessons.

The 55 fiction was hence inspired.

But then, jokes apart, I think basic self defense is something each and every woman should know. No need for full blown karate or kung fu lessons but it does not hurt to know how to throw a good punch. You never know when it will need it.

 This post is dedicated to all sisters and brothers. A very happy Raksha Bandhan to one and all of you guys. Have fun.

True Beauty- The urban myth

The Snap - 

True Beauty??

The Post -

“True beauty”

After a mild chuckle, my sister repeated the words slowly – rather relishing, pronouncing every single syllable of the word separately.

“True beauty.”

“Yeah! True beauty” I nodded. “So what do you think of it?”

“You want a honest answer” She shot back.

“Yeah! Just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

“Hmhm.... OK.”

She nodded. Her thoughtful eyes wandered outside the window, probably pondering on the subject at hand. The road, lit up by the evening sun stood empty other than for a few mosaics of dry leaves & bits of scattered scrap. Week end holidays always leave them, the roads- lonely. None of the rush hour traffic and noise. The frenzy of life takes a back seat, the front ones mostly unoccupied. Rarely of-course, some may break the trend, a newly married couple perhaps- probably lost in each other too much & may be a few boys with cricket bats scouting for a game, the rest peaceful in the closure &comfort of their homes, glued to Computer screens & television sets.

The Question !!

“Hmhm.. You know what” My sister’s voice echoed through.

“What?”

“I don’t know!” she said in an almost mellow whisper.

“WHAT??” I blurted out.

“Yeah!” She calmly told to rather to herself rather than tome, as if she just comprehended the enormity of the truth that she has discovered. “I don’t know what true beauty is? ”

“Hmhm... Really!!” I sighed, clearly disappointed with her candid answer.

Her face lit up with a quirky expression- eyebrows raised with a broad grin.

“Why? What were you expecting me to say?” She asked.

“Hmhm.... Like....  Something along the lines of Mother’s love, Baby's smile & such stuff.....”

“You are not really being fair to the women, who are not mothers... Are you?" She paused "And please - with the baby's smile - how more cliche' can you get??" 

“Hmhm..... Yeah! You are right....” I remarked.  “I never really thought of it in that way. OK... How about a women in love?”

“Once again- you are limiting true beauty to a segment of women? So, What you are meaning is that women who are not in love- aren't truly beautiful.”

“No, I did not mean it like that.." I looked up at her completely baffled. "Then what is real beauty - REALLY” I asked.

“You see.” My sister calmly stated. “Real beauty is elusive. It’s ephemeral. Something that's only possible in fairy tales or so..... I mean... All of us women want Real beauty. In-fact we dream about it. even fantasize about it.” She paused.

“Nice! But of course – Then you don't know... what you guys really want...” I couldn't help grinning.

“Ah.." She smirked "Thank you, for the observation- Genius. I am leaving you with your post. I have got some work to do.”

 Before I could think of something to say, she left.

Simple things are the most hard to figure out. I sighed to myself as I looked out of the window.

The evening was at it’s climax.

The damsel dusk flowing across the blue pavilion in her last tango. Her dramatic finale. Her satin gown dipping & diving on the azure’s sly. A turn, a twist, a trot; Fingers entwined in an embrace eternal, the orange sun’s last embers- infernal fingers, lingers behind in warm cinders. Amidst the sporadic splashes of spectra- the million minions of colors- cyan, magenta, yellow & black- Interlaced in-between white streaks of light laces strut along- dimming delights of hues - honey coated.

The dusk in adieu – on an blue evening’s sky. Full of warmth & life. A free hug from Mother nature.

I sighed to myself. True beauty without boundaries. Full of love & spurting with life.

"So, have you got the idea for the post" My sister came into the room throwing around her warm smile. Her easy smile- Full of life & warmth.


& then it hit me. The simple meaning of true beauty.

It’s a women’s warmth. It’s manifestations- a million.

A mother whose face creases & crinkles with a overflowing smile in every line of her face, when she first sets her eyes on her new born;  A daughter’s gift to her unsuspecting father – a simple play of crayon on a scrap of paper; A wife’s warm smile, as she greets her husband returning exhausted from work; A pregnant women’s jubilation over her baby’s first kick; An old lady’s toothless grin; A little girl’s joyous cry when licked by a puppy, she reached out to pet.

Give or take a few careless freckles & wrinkles. It doesn't really matter.

The warmth of Women

She is always beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Real beauty.  Reaching out at arm’s length.

Just her. In her own smile. In her own skin.

Glowing in her own warmth.

Just let her be.

Let her glow.

Author's Note -

Guys, this post is a submission to the blogging contest on IndiBloggger.in-

On the topic - What does real beauty mean to you?

I hope I have stuck the right chord. I am waiting for your comments.

Also, do check out Yahoo's real beauty Web page.


PS - The photos that are used - are from http://www.shutterstock.com/
Do note the watermark in the images.

Getting Bored in love – A Short Fiction

The Snap-

The Fiction-

Cuddling in his warmth-

She suddenly asked “What if … What if, sometime in the future- we get bored of each other”

He looked at her. “You tell me!!!”

Her lucid eyes; cupid’s pies;

Spilled & sparkled – as she sighed with her retort to herself “It must be fun getting bored of you, with you”

Fin.

An arabian tale with a twist - A flash fiction

The snap --







The tale -



"Is that all you want?... "

"Yes"

"You sure"

With a calm voice Alladin persisted - "Yes... I am sure of it.."

The genie frowned completely puzzled. Nobody in it's history has placed such a weird wish. Gone were the days of simple minded guys who wanted to become rich overnight and court the princess of their land. But then people do change with time.

A second or two passed with the genie lost in thought, at the end of which it shrugged & asked it's master --

"OK.... done- So you want her with fair skin, blue eyes, dark flowing hair, melodious voice, red lips, ample bosom, accommodating and sweet personality,luscious cleavage and of course she should love you to death. Do you have any other calibration changes in your jasmine."

Alladin beamed. "Nothing more"

The genie sighed as it started to create the girl.

The best things in life do come customized.




Author's note-

This fiction is my own satirical dig at how all most everything nowadays is being made available customized. The story itself was inspired by the movie Alladin -- starring the BIG B as the genie -- which was severely disappointing to me- failing miserably to retell the age old Arabian tale with any new twists. But then what else could you expect from a film industry where originality is becoming a rare commodity.

A Romance; Eternal - A Poem

The poem -

An evening's eve
Orange light in sieve.
The sky majestic,
Loudly artistic;

-the vibrant spread of blue
Red, yellow & white in hue;
A renaissance painting,
The dusk's lovely setting.

A fleeting stage,
For the last act;
Of a love's pact;





A romance eternal;
A passion Infernal-


He-

He looked at her,
A warm look;
-his charm's brook,
Gushing care &
lust a bare.

He looked at her,
his love; his heart,
his spirit set apart;


She-

A fairy; fair,
A beauty rare.
In a sari white,
Gracefully light.

A classy lady,
His eye's own candy.

With coy blush; her face,
-A pink flush;

She looked at him.

Her love's knight;
Her night's light;

An angel regal;
Simmering passion-
Her love's paralegal;

She looked at him.


The love-

Time halted;
It's chime thwarted.

Nothing was spoken &
Nothing was needed to be; When

Silence was heard &
Silence was all that needed be.


The end of her lips,
Cringed & crooked.
The bend of her smile,
Singed & sparked.

As drunk he was;
Of her beauty
He got drunk more-

-in her love,
In her love for him.





They rushed.

They hugged,
their lips locked.
Nooks & corners,
caressed and kissed.
Million stories,
shared & cherished.

Sweat & semen-
Wet in heaven.

No- body moved;
No- thing was seen;


Love alone moved;
Love alone was seen;

Seconds were savored;
By two hearts love favored.


The parting-

Like every sublime
second,
that moment too passed.
Like love, time too
doesn't fall nor
does it falter

A moment had; unhad.
A love had; forever had.

He kissed her hand &
took his leave.
Bidding him adieu,
She smiled - exquisite.

They parted their ways,
Still lost in each others rays.
Still red, the warmth of the brace,
They parted their ways.


A Romance eternal.
A passion Infernal.


Never did they show
the tears they swallowed

The sun and the Moon ----




Author's Note -

I dedicate this poem to My blogging & online chat friend Richa, who got married recently. Girl, I wish you with all my heart - A blissful married life. & a love as divine as between that of the sun & the moon during the dusk.

Guys,you can wish her at her blog -- http://anglic-butterfly.blogspot.com

About the Poem, I have tried to bring out the love that I felt between the sun and the moon in the passing moment they shared in the sky during the dusk time. & Since I wanted it to be special for Richa- I took my time to write and post it. Hope you guys like it.


Will meet you guys soon..
With more of my experiences in Hyderabad.

Until then...

cheers.

Poems tweeted-

The snap-



Her smile-

The curve of her smile- The crescent moon's isle; The sound of her laugh- a few flowers broke, bloomed & coughed- love is bliss.


My love-

In the silence of the night, I am in bliss. The symphony of her voice - thy music. My love - the crescendo of thy orchestra.


The rant-

No I am not a poet. It's just that my heart overflows with so much love seeing her smile that it cant help but rant a bit.





The soul music-

The curve of her rainbow earlobes jingling with the dance of the dew drop earrings is music,life,reason & treason to my soul.


The difference-

My love is a solitary lass. Wither it will not; Tethered with hopes; I will wait; a few seconds or a few centuries makes no difference.


The dawn-

Dew drops few; on the green leaves new; grinned to yew; with sun shine skew; Just born dawn sparkled & smiled.


Art-

It drizzled & then drenched- rainbows rained- She blushed & brushed spectra amok. Picasso's & Van Gogh's failed miserably in vain.


Author's note-

Guys, these are a few poems that I tweeted a while ago. & no these do not form any rhyming patterns. They are just a few wild thoughts put together. Hope U guys like them.


Cheers.. :)

A few single lilies - A poem

The Snap-



The Poem-


A few single lilies - lost in her locks


Sparkled; laughed with delight;
Sparked; broke a few rays of light;

Scattered a few rainbows
Splattered were a skew of Spectra-

Of the seven colors known &
Of a dozen few unknown-



A few single lilies - lost in her locks

Danced along with the rhythm of the wind;
Salsa & Tango; with a bit of
foxtrot thrown in.

Waltz & quickstep;
Zinging it up with-
the east coast swing.



A few single lilies- lost in her locks

were blessed & kissed

And as stars they were christened.

Their laughter & twinkle immortalized.


In curves of her hair;
swaying with the breeze-
playing in the bliss
of eternal despair;

Her flowing hair-
Her beauty's lair;

As dark as the night's sky can never be-
As dense as love will ever always be-



A few single lilies - lost in her locks......

A few Tweets- A light delight.

Guys, I have made a composition of a few tweets that I tweeted in the past month. Usually my tweets are the results of a bored mind rhetorically rambling about whatever it fancies. They can be silly, sometimes profoundly thoughtful or may be sometimes brutal. But then they are just tweets & as tweets Do enjoy them.

Satire-

What do u do when twitter bores- u realize u just reached d ultimate destiny of every modern kid. cheers. ;P

Whnever i feel tat i cant sleep cant rest my head,I dont despair- 4 I still hav my 10th civics book & readin it always puts me 2 deep sleep

U are never alone, at least until u give up on urself & get married. :P

Blaming is fun at least until u run out of people u can blame... :P

Humans are a failed species- u see the more we live the more- we find problems with ourselves & everything else.

The fairer sex-

Compliment gals not coz it will get u into their pants or hearts but just to see her smile- bloom seeing that u hav noticed. ;D

It is OK 2 get slapped by a gal as long as she is angry wid u. But if she s angry with herself & she slaps u, then thats supreme trouble

Really guys suck when it comes to understanding gals & all u gals wanna do is- play around with this weakness. U cruel heartless ladies.. :P

Every man is a stud at least until some women marries him & knocks some sense into him...

Love-

Love is of course insanity but gal once u smile, insanity is bliss.

Love is like smoking -addictive & If ur gal still refuses to get addicted to you may be she is allergic 2 ur brand.

Please don't ask me if am interested in sex Of course I am but I think love would really spice up the mix. So am waiting. ;P

Of course U will get a cool gal, but knowing tat doesn't really help u when u r single & wondering where the hell is she. Does it??

Sex-

Sex is lovely, divine & beautiful - and no I haven't yet done it. ;P

Why is that people are always interested in sex- coz they wanna know what they are missing.... :P:P:P

Unconvincing as it may sound, we males do not want 2 have sex all the time. We also believe in foreplay yaar.. :P

Thoughtful-

A friend is 1 who has d patience 2 listen 2 every shit tat u did & d heart- love u even more after hearing & give u space 2 do more shit :P

Suicide point- kodaikanal renamed as d green valley view. thats dumb. after all everything things green & of valleys in kodaikanal. :P:P:P

He loves dreaming.. thats why even in his dreams he only gets 2 dream & nothing more.

U cant really blame guys 4 not listening to gals. After all its gals who mean one thing & say another. :P



PS-

I thought of doing some light post after the trilogy that I did on Sex & the society. And since I have been traveling around a lot for the last month, I plan to make a few posts out of my experiences. And as a start of those upcoming uncomplicated posts, I have posted a collection of my tweets. Do tell me- What do you think about them.


Will soon post about my travels.

Until then.

Cheers. Muthu.

Sex & the society - Last part of the trilogy

Warning-

Highly Adult content. The post discusses sex, men and women, so people who think they are not mature enough to read about the subject please do not read any further.

The Snap-



The quote-

If People can understand that women too are human beings with sexual desires like everyone else, if the segmentation of sex alone can be defeated, the entire system of prejudice and misunderstanding will take a heavy dent.
And that dent will be the start of a more liberated and dynamic society in every single way.

--muthu

I thought I had all the answers – All the answers to all the questions that would be raised on this particularly controversial topic of sex - a need & a pleasure for both men and women.

A society that has the ability to question and break away from a century of sexual prejudice between men and women can achieve anything. It will be a learned society that will be intelligent enough to question the makers of politics to the brokers of economy. I want to be a part of such a group of people. People who would listen to reason and love rather than to bigotries and hate.

Yeah, but the final question boils down to the singular level. How much do we want to be a part of that society? How much radical are we willing to be? Where will we draw the lines of acceptable and not acceptable, if we are to erase those present now?
How will you react to the situations of controversial nature that may rise in the future? How will I react to the same?

And the question that the Bondgal_rulz posted in the comments section of the last post was right on the bull’s eye.


The kick in the balls -

Bondgal - As we go on vehemently discussing here about issues such as sexual discrimination, sexual liberation, need for people to recognize women too as sexual beings---
Think 20 years down the line. You are a family man, who has a say 19 year old daughter. Will YOU be comfortable enough with her partying out in the night and boozing with her friends?

Muthu- *Scratches the head* *Clears the throat* *After a distant thoughtful look* I think I need time to think.

I feel like I have just been kicked in the balls. Courtesy- Bondgal_rulz. (Yeah sure she rules).



The singular questions-

The question bondgal asked was the beginning of a fresh batch of questions that rose in my mind & every single of those new questions that had a singular trait to them. They questioned me as to how I will react to the scenario on my direct involvement in the prospective future.



--- Will I dominate my wife with my comparatively strong male physicality on subjects our opinions differ rather than trying to convince her of the merit of my stand?

--- How understanding will I be if I am extremely horny and my wife refuses me in the bed saying that she is not in the mood?

--- How much liberal and understanding will I be to my wife on the aspect of her past sexual relationships?

--- How will I react If my daughter says to me- that she is thinking of moving in with her boy friend after she has become a major?

--- Will I be able to accept the fact that my daughter may want to have sex with the guy she is going out in the future (that is when she is major)?

--- Will I be ready to accept and appreciate my daughter or son, if their sexual orientation turns out to be homosexual?

--- What will be my advice to my own daughter on sex, on the ethics of sex, on what the society thinks about sex?


The answers-

I believe myself to be a liberal leaning heavily towards the radical. My opinions have always been blunt and pointedly progressive on the aspects on sexual equality, discrimination based on sex, color & creed. I believe you need not be a supporter of women’s right to see what’s wrong and right. To see what’s prejudiced and what needs a change desperately. But propagandas and beliefs aside, we are all humans who go around with our daily activities.

How much can we be -what we think is right.

I am not going to make statements about how radical I am going to be with my wife & daughter. This after all is not any election campaign. It more of a search of how much I really am of what I propagate.

And the search I believe is infused in the blood and soul of my everyday activity as is the case in yours. In every of our decisions and actions, we express what we believe. And it’s not going to be easy to do things as to say them.



I want to love my mother, sister, future wife, daughter and every other woman I meet without any prejudice or predetermined beliefs. I will desire to give them space and faith that I myself would expect in their shoes. And in that desire I will hold my spirit of seeing the society change for the good.
(And yeah bondgal my daughter will party if she wants to and the only thing I will want to make sure is that she knows what she does. I will want to allow her to make her own decisions, her own rights, her own mistakes- After all it her own life to live.)


The lever of change-

Education is learning from others. And whatever is learned from others will always have a part of them, a part of their own system of values, a part of their own beliefs, prejudices that are passed along. Education will never solve social problems. The only salvation is to self questioning. Self realization.

Every one of us of every segment of the self segregated society that we are, are born to be rejoiced and celebrated. Not to be discriminated. Do you think the child that passionately hugs the bosom of its mother and quenches its thirst suckling knows that what its doing can be also classified as vulgar & not as divine? Our ideas of chastity, sexual morality and concept of discrimination are learned behavior.

And it is in this learned behavior- that we learnt eagerly without questioning its merits and its basis, we have allowed the roots of prejudice and bigoted discriminations to bore deep.

Society in understanding is nothing more than a herd going along with the stride. It would not just be a monumental task but impossibility and a suicide to social life to go against the society.

But of course, the least you could do is to question whats right & ethical rather than to choose to go along with the herd.

And that you can do.Cant you??



Author's note-

The above is the third and last part of the trilogy series I have been writing. So please do read the other two parts to appreciate the conclusion given in this last episode.
Part 1 [link]
Part 2 [link]

In this concluding post, I took the line of what drives each of us individuals personally rather than relying on statistics. Of course the statistics says that In India alone once on two hours one girl gets raped. Two women are subjected to house hold violence. In the course of writing this trilogy, I went through a lot of info on the web about the every aspect of discriminations in every nature that people face.

And I realized something, it isn't ignorance that makes people go along with these prejudices & bigotries but people choose to just follow the crowd rather than questioning things as to why should they be done so in the way they are being done now.

Please, all I ask is to question things. Make it a habit. Inculcate questioning attitude in kids. We are born perfect & all the answers to the questions are within us. But the only way we are going to find those answers within ourselves is though questioning.



PS-

Sorry guys, I took almost a week to publish the concluding post. Unexpectedly, I got stuck in Chennai for almost 4 days and also this is my first time writing about such a heavy topic as a trilogy. Please do leave back your comments and criticisms on my attempt. I have tried to cover every aspect of the problem and people I bow to your comments as they showed me the different perspectives of the problem.

And lastly I sincerely appreciate people who inspired me by reading this trilogy and commenting on it.

Thank you guys.


Will soon post the poems i wrote when I traveled. (I always write when traveling)


Until then.


cheers.