Saturday, November 23, 2013

Emptiness


it permeates my soul, and more
time flies, as i implore, plead an end
but when, when did it begin? 
and every minute the searing scar deepens
a grip that binds my breath in its meditation
this nothingness within, and everything without
barely exists in its wake, days become one.
i embraced, found peace in
being enslaved, for i fear freedom from it
for it keeps my stride company
that void, now my only friend.



Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Invocation

i am a lie, a mirror, a blank
canvas at your hands, you make me
try and be, you or your wont
i change, for i know no better,
moulded, muddled by the hour, i lose.
i unconsciously fail your conscious
deed, kind and principle
none i own, yet i worship
i please, for there is no me
everything, everyone you are
what i am, what i am not

Friday, June 10, 2011

Freely Bound

these are the lines
the lines you dont see but
i am drawn, strewn, bound.

these are the lines
they hold me together
guide my chaos, restrain my peace.

these are the lines
mad, mythical and mystical
humour, these lines define me.

these are the lines
the lines you dont see but
they liberate me, i break them free.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Change

i hear something that changes another bit of my life.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Predictable Choice

so here i was talking about random things in life when i went into a soliloquoy. the subject of my angst this time dealt with directions we "choose" to take in our lives.

like take the example of the cohort that graduated in the summer of 2008 to which i belong. a 150 fresh  mbbs graduates came out into the real world. so it was yet another crossroads and time to make choices again. what gets me thinking is how many of us actually stop to think of what we are to do next. the obvious choice for many would be to move on to postgrad in a specialty and further training to be a specialist doctor. and there is nothing wrong with that. i would love to be one too. the problem arises with the way we think that we choose to do it. 

i have often observed that we dont have to do too much to live life well. life has a way of taking care of you. all you have to do at your end is perform life's current task well enough. thats all and everything else is taken care of. i finish mbbs and the obvious questions arise and life has an answer. do a pg. there is not so much thinking involved in the choice, ofcourse the details are different. 

when i say life, i mean what you have around you. you have a certain upbringing in a certain household with a certain way of life in a certain society with certain social, cultural and economic sensibilities. and if you choose to sit back and relax, then these have a way of being your cushion. they have conditioned your behaviour enough to make whatever is next obvious. just dont ask too many questions and everything will be laid out in front of you. 

your life is the environment around you. it is the nature around you not your nature. it is what nurtured you, not the ideas you nurture. every idea you have, every trait you claim has litttle to do with you. it is a response you have conditioned to an external stimulus. and the beauty of our societal environments is that there are inherent feedback mechanisms to keep track and if necessary weed out the unwanted. and may be even recondition a response into a more suitable one. thats the purpose of your society. the thinking has been done for you. you have a role to play. just do what you have to well enough and everything will show up in front of you. its almost like life is offering you a step at a time what you need . you could be blind to where these steps lead and still you wont be lost. and if you were to deviate and sidestep, there are inherent protector mechanisms in this society that will try and bring you back to the mainstream that life has charted for you. if you persist, then you are marginalized, obscured or even ostracized. every once in a while there are few who can reach the destination through their own charted paths and they stand out. society explains them to you as extraordinary or freaks. its almost like they are pushed into being the cases falling outside 2 standard deviations of your normal gaussian curve. even maths is taught to teach you the oddity.

now when you do dare to sidestep, you are making a choice. now what governs this choice. the reason you chose to sidestep is so that you can take the reins into your own hands and lead life the way you want it to go. but then if you were to chart the new directions based on previous conditioning of the very same society you come from then how far are you really stepping out. all you know is what you have learnt, that is responses to those stimuli your environment has given you. the eyes can see only what the mind knows holds true here. the limits of your thought are more or less defined by the boundaries of the stream you are hoping to leave. then what do you do. do you even have a true idea of your own that can help? is any response your own as all the stimuli coming are that from an environment you are trying to abort and therefore detrimental to the search of your new direction?

society teaches you to dream of a destination. the final outcome of your efforts. yet it very successfully limits them temporally. therefore any average joe being led down his path sees satisfaction in stepping onto the next step. but he fails to realise that the next step will always be there. there is no stopping. whatever your effort, action, there will always be an outcome and you will move on. such a joe will never realise that it is never going to end. walking through the mall he is inspired to dress like an icon and purchase a particular brand. then a car, a house, watches, holidays and the list is endless. he runs after another everytime. does he ever stop and think about what it is about the next thing he desires that will make it all come to an end? i dont know. will he ever realise that such a scramble is perpetual unless he stops it. i dont know that either.

some say it is not the destination but the journey that is important. but society teaches you the contrary. you belong to a certain social class and therefore there shall be certain endpoints that you shall aim to achieve. anything else is crushed. 

we all are eventually aiming for the same thing. yet how many of us realise that we are all conditioned beyond imagination such that we limit our own choices.   

choice is an illusion. they let you pick a flavour when all you know and see is chocolate.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Yes We Can

Nov 8th , 2008

Watching Obama say these words gave me goose bumps. For the first time after a long time I actually cared about America and its people.  I don’t know when I forgot them. Must have been sometime through those eight forgettable years that have just gone by.

The earliest memory of America, though I have never been there, was the fateful night when I sat huddled in front of a TV set with a bunch of other Indian kids while the grownups watched from over their couches and dinner plates. The Iraqis on the streets couldn’t do enough to deter a resilient Indian soiree. Bush Sr was talking about the goings-on in the middle-east, the invasion of Kuwait. I still remember his wrinkled, meditative words heavily pouring out. War it was.

I am a child of the Gulf War. Americans were our heroes.  Play and chatter was abundant with the imagery of good-evil transferred to the America-Iraq scenario. America was the good guy. That was 1990.

Operation Desert Storm. Bosnia. Somalia. Kosovo.  Operation Desert Fox.  The ten years that followed were a series of conflicts relayed in a carefully reconstructed manner always readily identifying the bad guy. Of course we knew who the good guys were. Didn’t we? Growing up to these events brought on some questions. Yet one never doubted the intention. America meant no harm. They fought for the people, their rights and their good. Well there were other ways of doing it but no other would step up to the task so readily. That was America doing what it did best, playing the good guy.

Then came the new millennium and with it brought controversy, doubt and eventually, decay. Controversy over the how the man got into the office, doubt over his capability and judgment, and finally the decay of the American spirit and also the good will that America had fostered in minds like mine. George Walker Bush had done everything humanly possible to open the wrong doors, rub people the wrong way, all the while carrying a straight face of a man driven by vision and purpose.

9/11 forever changed the world we lived in. But Afghanistan and later Iraq were hasty responses to a blow on the very face of the American spirit. The need of the hour was determination, resilience and thoughtful intervention. What has come to be does not even qualify debate. Could it have been different? May be. Should it have been so bad? Definitely not. Four years ago, for reasons unknown, at least to many outside America, Bush was re-elected to the highest office in the most powerful country in the world. The second term of W is something I can’t wait to forget, and I am not alone. Bad policy is very different from ignorance. Persistent and worsening ignorance can only be judged as idiocy. God bless America became God save America.

As with all things, the Bush years have come to pass. Every American who voted Obama on the ballot represented the hopes of the entire world. People from every corner who directly or indirectly were beneficiaries or victims, as times have it, of American policy of recent years held their breath as America went to the polls. The world was glued to its TVs, radios and computers awaiting the outcomes of their suffering, the fruit of the hopes they had invested in the common citizen of the USA. And they weren’t let down.

The words of change the new president of America had on the eve of his victory were not for his people alone but for people world over. The man on stage in front of America today was not just a leader America voted for, he was chosen by all of us around the world who wanted to see the guiding light in new hands. Watching intently, I couldn’t help but smile to myself when I saw him speak with conviction and promise of restoring America to its lost glory.

Obama is not just a man or a leader or a president. He is an idea. An image of the power and will of the people, invested in one man. America has once again beat the odds and managed to make that leap of faith. Less than 50 years after Martin Luther King, they have elected as president a young, black man who has the tenacity to challenge, the will to persevere and courage to transform. He represents an opportunity for America to try something new, to show the world a new direction and to make possible tolerant and peaceful coexistence. It is a chance to abandon a rampant ruthless barbarism, both fundamental and state-sponsored, that is scarring the lives of millions of people and bring back an era of dialogue and non-violence. A man who does not carry the weight of years of electoral politics, who is not hardened by the unforgiving corridors of Washington and entrenched in the interests of the high and the mighty brings with him a sense of honesty to the table. This alone will give Obama what few other presidents have enjoyed, the respect and adulation of the peoples of the world and above all a chance, to break ice and foster brotherhood.

Economy. Trade. Healthcare. Foreign Policy. World Peace. Obama’s mandate, rather the legacy he stands to inherit, is unenviable to say the least. Yet even the longest journeys start with a small step. And with Obama, America has taken a giant leap. Four years on, I look forward to remembering these times as a period of great change when I stood witness as history unfolded and a new paradigm shift came to be in the way the people of America, the people of the world lived.

Mr. Barrack Hussein Obama, Yes we can.

Her Quest to End


She walks on, buried
By her years, the cold bites her heart
Hunched against the howl, of fading
Winds, pain weakened, her wrinkles carry
The weight of frailty, her years have rolled
On like the seasons, as she prepares
To brave the cruelty of another final winter.

Some fly, yet some wither, the fruit
Like the leaves, and the turning heavens
Grey, she has with her memories
Of the lost, hers fallen and theirs taken
By the world, with its times, have come
Clinking needles, the lonely chatter
Her yarns share her destiny.

Blessed young angels run amuck
In the warm summer sun, the crisp
Laundry, pie on her window sill, and
Her womb, for it bears more fruit, than
One, kind to her finds her, joy, not knows
No sorrows. This is to her, womanhood
A worship, for the labors.

It is a lovely morning, spring
Has found its way to the skies, to her life.
A chuckle, a subtle touch, sends the hearts
Fluttering into the chirp, the laughter of the children
To be, of infinite hope and dream. It is
In the song and dance, in the clutter of chairs,
To the bustle of kin, she has come to be, one.

As the apples redden, the cherries
Ripe, she grows, a cherubic smile
Flowing locks, in the darkest night
Dreams of moments to be, her luscious
Senses, her graceful splendor nurture
Swaying fields, her maiden youth.
She skips, falls, scrapes her knee

A bold girl she, can’t stop the tears
As she runs to her mother, suppressing
That quaint wail that escapes her pain.
In those tender arms that raised her
She rests, salt drying on her upper lip.

From dust to womb, a soul
She journeys, to another body
Endlessly yearning, to dwell in a moment of
Salvation, for eternity.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Tearless Burden of Misery



i havent had the courage to cry
i put on a brave face and walk on
brush off every hurt, and march
ahead with a conviction, convinced
with my own lies. 

i awake every second with a fear of caving in
of falling prey to the frailty that i am 
live every minute concealing to myself the pits
the holes, my inadequacy.
i am incomplete, and that which makes me whole
scares me, for i fear the unknown

i am afraid to be free, happy
to not be bound is unimaginable
the world gives me none?
a curse of good fortune.
i need misery, even of my own making.