Obverse Verses.

Still waters that run deep
A lone ship in troubled waters.

The rising sun in the skies of dawn
A shooting star in the dead of night.

The conflicts of a restless mind
The pinings of a mellow heart....

Nostalgia for the memories of moments gone
A phantom pain that haunts from the past...

The lasting promise of a true love
The irony that mortals do not last.

6 Feet Under......

Come monsoon or summer shine
My eyes are always filled with grime.

My days are long, and I long to stretch
But I can't, I'm an unfortunate wretch.

My family and friends don't visit me often
Deep inside, they think I'm simply rotten.

My neighbours, they too never drop by
I take comfort in knowing they lie close by.

It's the occasional stranger that makes my day
When they take a detour and wander astray.

For when they linger over the words on my tomb
I have but fleeting peace in the earth's womb.

SANDS OF TIME . . . .

Sitting at Marine Drive, I gaze at the sky and the sea, and that perfect illusion of the horizon in between. A little street kid skips along and tries to clamber up but the parapet is too high for her. I pick her up and sit her down beside me. Her delighted grin lights me up. She has a perfectly ruined white rose in her grubby little hand and is now busy pulling off all it's petals and letting them drift into the breeze. I smile to myself as I think of the picture we are painting - Fluffy clouds strewn across a purple pink sky, the glittering sea ahead, and two strangers amongst a thousand others watching the golden sunset together.

I feel content. It is beguiling to simply sit here and enjoy the salt infused sea breeze and marvel at the vastness of the sight that I behold. There is always a moment here when time holds still and the grains of sand in the hourglass cease to drop. I close my eyes, tilt my head back and let the last rays of the setting sun soak my face. I know this is a cherished moment, bound to invoke nostalgia once it has passed.

As the sun sets, I think of the many moments of my life that have passed. The liaisons and transgressions that I've had, the misadventures I have embarked upon, the mundane that I have endured. I hope there is a cosmic entity up there witnessing the saga of my existence and imprinting it upon the universe. I want these moments to reverberate through time and space, the memories reflected in an ethereal looking glass. And at some infinite point of time, in some alternate universe, I want the sands of time to hold still again, so those luminous petals may drift back to me...

THE PHARAOH & THE PHANTOM

Armed knights around the castle stand
Allegiance pledged to the mighty hand.

Peasants beseeching the strength of the armour
Dangerously veiled ambitions of a modest farmer.

A revolution that threatens to dethrone the reign
Though mighty be the orb, the rebel is not in vain.

The kingdom gripped with anarchy that refuses to drown
Uncertain lies the fate of the face beneath the Crown.

The sceptre and soldier, both wearing a mask
One pacing the palace, one toiling at the task.

When the deed is done & the story retold
History is not obliged to favour the bold.

He who rules the Day, needs not the Lantern
He who Conquers the Night, is but a Phantom .....

WE, THE PEOPLE

The land of Colonial rule and carnage
The land of Mughal loot and pilferage.

Tales of tyranny with horrors of the past
And revolutions fought in the century last.

Plagued for decades with poverty & paucity
Peppered with scams of deceitful audacity.

Grappling with sati and female infanticide
Struggling with scars of rape and homicide.

Ridden with endless terrors and blasts
Leaving the people stricken and aghast.

...........................................................................................

Then land of Ganges & the land of sages
Steeped in the wisdom and history of ages.

Celebrations of Rama & the festival of Lights
Literatures of the Sutra amid culinary delights.

An amalgam of religion, castes, and creeds
Kaleidoscope of mortals, deities and deeds.

7 Union territories with 29 diverse States
The citizens standing tall as steadfast mates.

Borders nestled between the Saffron & Green
United by a spoked wheel on the White serene.

Second Chances......

Some Shores we ought to leave behind
So a new Horizon we may seek to find
Not every wanderer is ruin and rack
Some seek to find the Hidden track.

Life is brimmed with Second chances
Tenacity is what Adversity enhances
The more our failures seem to abound
The more our Victory feels Profound.

An ancient Philosophy still sublime
Living each precious Day at a time
Tonight we fall in Dirt and Grime
Tomorrow again we Rise & Shine!

Lost . . .

Are the mistakes we make, one missed step?
Or will the aftermath always be here to stay?
Will the dark of the night crush our soul?
Or the break of dawn take our breath away?

Twi$ter$

• All that glitters is not sold.
• Absence makes the heart wander.
• Birds of a feather get extinct together.
• All good things to those who procrastinate.
• When in Rome, visit the Vatican.
• What can not be cured, must be ignored.
• You can take a horse to the pond, but you can't drown him.
• An apple a day keeps Mediclaim at bay.
• Early to bed and early to rise, leaves life with no spice.
• Curiosity doesn't kill the cat. It's too busy exploring Mars!

FAIR AND PHONEY

Watch the idiot box for just 15 minutes and you will realize that every third commercial is a cosmetic commercial, wherein every alternate one is about a fairness product. So much so, that we actually have a fairness cream for men now. Whatever happened to tall, dark and handsome?? Not to mention how effeminate it sounds that a guy should be slathering himself with a beauty product.

But I digress. My point is why do all commercials unequivocally portray a Plain Jane ( read under-confident, socially withdrawn, dark skinned girl) who emerges overnight as ravishing, popular and successful (in that order) just by virtue of turning fair?

These commercials are objectionable for two fundamental reasons. Firstly, they are fabricated. Our complexion is determined by a complex web of genetic factors which decide the number of active melanocytes in our skin, which in turn produce the pigment melanin that decides our skin tone. No fairness cream can alter the innate physiology of our body. Besides, our complexion is an irrefutable manifestation of our roots. We can not change our skin tone any more than we can change our ethnicity. Selling a product that claims to "make" you fair and giving out "fairness scales" to test the same is a logic defying, yet surprisingly compelling con.

Secondly, and more importantly, it amounts to racial victimization. Why portray dark skinned people as shrinking violets who are not successful in their ventures? Why imply that their skin colour doesn't inspire any confidence despite their merits? Why claim that being "fair and lovely" is an essential prerequisite to success - both personal and professional? That is commercialization of racism with a rare tact. How else do u explain the masses lapping up a brown skinned SRK, absurdly looking 5 shades lighter, endorsing a fairness cream for men?

Why do we harbour a prejudice towards dark skin tones? Where does our inexplicable obsession with the fair skin stem from? Is it the classic case of grass being greener on the other side? Does it have something to do with the fact that we were ruled by the British for so long? Do residual memories of the "Raj" still haunt our subconscious? Is that the reason for our collective awe and envy of the fair skin tone? Or are we just victims of incessant advertising? Do we idolize the phrase "beauty is skin deep"? Is that why matrimonial ads emphatically insist on "fair" prospective brides and dowry rates spike blatantly for the dusky ones? For a land that worships the Goddess Kali, could we really be that shallow? Or is her reference as "Kali" the epitome of Indian racism?

What Lies Beyond....?

Neither whispered, Nor asked aloud

A question that raises many a doubt

An answer we have to live without

What is this life really about?

What is the Unknown that Lies Beyond?

Crimson Skies

The gallant soldier fighting his battle
Putting to test the might of his mettle.

Warriors marching forth with glory and pride
The losses of the day, all taken in their stride.

Armour worn and daggers drawn
Rivals heralded by the battle horn.

Bodies shred and veins bled
The battlefield a shade of Red.

Victors applauded, their glories painted
Swords of victory with blood are tainted.

Epics survive to fight another day
Death is a price they too shall pay.

Victor and Wounded separated by a stricture
Every last Dying man completes the picture.

SEX IN THE CITY

Sin of Gomorah is punishable under section 377 of IPC, and yet we get flavoured condoms galore!

Legal age of wife for consensual sex in India is 16 years. But legal age of women for marriage in India is 18 years! Somebody got the math all wrong!

We pledge to love all our brothers and sisters. Meanwhile, incest continues to remain a punishable offence. Where does that leave the Pharoah Complex?

Love the say, is what makes the world go round. Sex on the other hand, releases endorphins that make us happy. Why do people prefer round over happy?!

NOT AGAIN

Serial bomb blasts. Check.
Innocent lives lost. Check.
Spirit of Mumbai applauded. CHECK.

This time there isn't even an itch to know who the culprits are, and what their agenda is. It sounds trivial to hear our politicians' take on it. Nothing shown or said by the media matters. There's nothing anybody is saying now that they haven't already said before.

But it's time they stopped using that pathetic cliche about the "Spirit of Mumbai". When we continued with life after the first blast, we were naive. After the second, we erroneously thought that it would be the last. And for every subsequent blast, it's just been a force of habit. Random acts of terrorism are so frequent now, it's become mundane. We take it as a given. We are so conditioned by it, we almost forget it's not meant to be a part of our routine.

We have roughly 20 lakh families residing in our city. Yesterday, 21 citizens were killed and another 150 were injured. So out of 20,00,000 families, a maximum of 200 families were severely affected, and only those many are grieving today. They are the only ones thinking about critical care units or funeral arrangements. That's a small ratio. And that is precisely the reason you supposedly see life back to normal. That's the reason you see people on the streets as though nothing has happened. Indeed, nothing did happen to their immediate families.

We don't step out on the streets to symbolize our strength and unity. We step out due to a lack of empathy. We step out because our neighbour's loss is not our loss. Life doesn't go 'back' to normal. It had remained normal to begin with for somebody who was no where near the blast sites. There's not a lack of fear in the city, there's a lack of feeling. We are not calm, just cold.

So don't tell me we are fighting gallantly, when we are in fact succumbing silently. We are NOT a city surging forward with "Spirit". We are just a city seeped in apathy.

Arbor Vitae

A Stain of Ink befalls the night
Washed away with the morning light.
The Golden Orb with all it's might
But a humble cloud can block it's light.

Summer flowers that Blossom Pink
Only to fade away within a blink.
Amber leaves that shed and shrink
And back into the earth they sink.

Carefree Winds blow a tiny Seed
The Rains Nurture it's every need.
And alongside there grows a weed
Unwanted it is, but pays no heed.

The Rising Sun from the Brilliant Blue
And setting each day in a different hue.
Into a Mighty Oak, the little seed grew
Serpentine roots cutting the earth through.

This time the breeze a Fury flew
Rains Lashed and WhirlWinds blew.
After the storm, the trees stood but few
Fallen trunks mingled with morning dew.

The mighty oak, it's last breath drew
But beside it, the Weed still grew.
Laws of Nature though seem Askew
The Circle of Life will start Anew.

PRINTING MISTAKES

The pen, they say, is mightier than the sword. And even as we grapple with literacy issues, there's no denying the impact of the mass media. The morning newspaper and evening news is a compulsive ritual for most of us. We like to be appraised of all events - recent, remote and distant. And while the media meticulously reports nearly everything under the sun, it takes the annoying liberty of sensationalizing.

Case in point is the suicide of an ex-supermodel. The media worked itself into a frenzy churning out graphic details of the incident, not to mention the sordid attempt at painting the classic love triangle. And to display some mediocre journalism, the chain of events leading to the suicide were constructed and reconstructed after some harrowing micro-analysis. It was somewhat tedious to read the same piece of news for nearly a week. The supermodel's suicide story featured on the front page for 3 consecutive days. On the 4th day, the funeral pictures were splashed all over page 2. By day 5, she was back on page 1. And each time, the media dished out different pictures of the deceased dressed saucily. All in all, it felt crass.

Interestingly, on the day of the said supermodel's funeral, there was another suicide case reported in a measly column on the 9th page of the same newspaper. The deceased in question was a middle-aged woman, a humble cop's wife, who presumably ended her life due to the financial and emotional strain of the last of her 3 kids being mentally challenged. Just why didn't this piece of news stir a media storm? The underlying issue is after all just as socially relevant. But it was not the classic case of a doomed celebrity, which is why it didn't grab eyeballs. A beautiful model with the world at her feet, but longing for amorous love and eventually committing suicide is way more compelling than the drab house-wife trying to cope with her domestic routine and a mentally challenged son. The dilemma of the house-wife neither evokes our sympathy nor holds our attention. But talk about a patho in a celebrity, and we're all ears. Not to mention, sensitivity personified. So we're heart broken over the ravishing model who chose to end her life, but we refuse to be appalled by the average woman in agony committing suicide. 

While the press and celebs go hand in hand, it doesn't justify reducing meaningful journalism to a mere oxymoron. The media needs to make a conscious effort to avoid undue sensationalism and it ought to display some semblance of professionalism. It is unacceptable to discriminate so blatantly between the deaths of two individuals - practically turning a blind eye to one, while dedicating a week long tribute to the other. Being a celebrity sure has it's perks, and media attention may top the list. But the media should refrain from exhibiting such gross favouritism amongst the dead.

For if not in life, in death at least, we all lie equal.
Or so, us commoners would like to believe.

QUiRKY

"Love thy neighbour" is what we are always preached. So why does the neighbour get so offended if we extend the love to his wife?

Ever wondered if the statement "Failure is the stepping stone to success" is an incomplete one, with the original concluding as "for your rival" !

If money can't buy happiness, why are the rich always happier than the poor? And why the hell is dowry exchange so rampant?

No comments on steady, but "slow" never wins any race. The only reason the tortoise won is because the hare was awfully stupid, and err... sleepy!

When vegetarians make such a fuss about ingesting embryos [read eggs], why don't they fuss equally over consuming live organisms [read vaccines] ?

Believe it or faint, but it was the fox who originally gave us the Theory of Relativity - When you don't get the grapes, they are ALWAYS sour. And when you do get the grapes, you NEVER find them sour!

If what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger, what is so wrong about violence and substance abuse?

It takes a supremely sadist and narcissistic personality to come up with an autobiography. How else do you explain the audacity to grieve somebody with a detailed account of your personal trash and then charge them for it?!

Love, they say, makes the world go round. Sex on the other hand, releases endorphins that make us happy. Why do people prefer round over happy?!!

Redemption

Set NOT small Goals..
They have NOT the Spark to Fuel our Quest.

Take NOT small Risks..
They have NOT the Courage to Bolt our Fears.

Kindle NOT small Desires..
They have NOT the Charm to Slake our Lust.

Nurture NOT small Dreams..
They have NOT the Passion to Stir our Blood.

Surrender NOT to small Failures..
They have NOT the Power to Cheat our Destiny.

TELL ME WHY???

Almost anybody who visits a temple at a place like Shirdi, will generously shell out money for the beggars there. But if the same beggar were to approach us at a signal elsewhere, he will get shooed away without a second glance. Is this our definition of being "God-fearing"?

Charity practically never begins at home. And most people who donate like to make it known publicly. Does it negate our generosity if we seek publicity for it? And are we really being generous if our sole intention is to gain publicity by the gesture? What is it that really counts here - the thought, or the act?

Nowadays, there's an emerging trend of adopting kids. People claim they want to make a difference, and yet they won't consider sponsoring their maid's kids' education. They supposedly want to touch a child's life, but they won't hesitate calling out to "chhotu" and placing their lunch orders, asking "chhotu" to run around for office errands, ordering "chhotu" to lift memsab's bags, and so on. How can you justify robbing one child of his childhood when you dream of bestowing it upon anonther?

We click pictures to capture our happy moments. But when a celebrity visits a blind-school or a school for the mentally challenged, claims that he/she was moved to tears, and then poses for pictures smiling from ear-to-ear, what does that convey? Which obnoxious person in their right mind smiles gleefully standing next to a kid with cerebral palsy? Whose brain is really damaged here?

We have animal right activists and socialists fighting tooth and nail against cruelty to animals - endangered, abandoned, or otherwise. Kind as their act is, should we not first cry out against cruelty to those of our own species? Does a limping puppy actually evoke more compassion than a cachexic kid? Or is it just more convenient to look out for a street dog than a street kid?

MEDICAL ANALOGIES

In Physiology, there's a Law called the 'Law of the Heart', also known as the 'All or None' Law. But when it actually comes to matters of the heart, we seldom use it. Is that why doctors take the Hippocrates Oath?

It is a erroneous to say that you've given away your heart in a relation. A relationship is not an organ transplant, it's more like blood donation. You only give a fraction of what you have, and though you don't give again for another 3months, you're very likely to land up at another camp after that.

An ugly break-up is like chronic constipation. A real pain in the ass, and full of crap.

An amicable break-up on the other hand, would be an Elective surgery. Well planned and minimum soft tissue damage.

Being hung-up over your ex is like a cadaveric spasm. You're still in the same state that you were in at the time of death [of the relation.]

A rebound is like a nosocomial super-infection. Just when you thought you were getting better, you're down again. And this time, with a more resistant strain.

Falling in love is like cigarette smoking. You know you are getting into a potential health hazzard, but you're so hooked, you just refuse to believe the warning on the pack.

Meeting your potential in-laws for the first time is like Phase 4 of a Clinical trial. You want to do a market survery to gather all the rare adverse effects, but they usually come in rather late.

Marriage is like a terminal illness. And it follows the classic order of grief -
Denial [in the bedroom], Anger, Barking, Desperation, Apathy.

Putting up with an abusive spouse is like drug tolerance. The more you take it the first time, the more you are compelled to take it at all subsequent times.

An understanding spouse is like the 'Human Cloning Project'. It goes against nature's laws.

A confrontation with your spouse is like a diabetic gorging on sugar - not advisable.

Losing your temper over your spouse is like Contact Dermatitis. An irritant factor is always present.

An extra-marital affair is like a toxic fart in public. It's natural, but absolutely unacceptable. So everybody does it, but nobody owns up.

An extra-marital affair with your wife's best friend is like taking TCAs and MAO Inhibitors simultaneously. You're bound to end up with a H.T. Crisis, and you'll be the only one to blame.

A one night stand with a prostitute is like seeking a second opinion just for the heck of it. You'll go right back to your original physician, and you won't dare mention the second one.
[Speaking of sluts, why are the females called prostitutes, when it's actually the males who have a prostate?]

Murdering your spouse is like euthanesia. It may be "mercy"-killing, but it's illegal just the same.

A divorce is like radical surgery for a malignancy. Recovery entails major life-style changes. But life expectany shoots up drastically.

And finally, the only other thing in medicine, that matches the irony of a marriage, is death by drowning. When you want to float, you drown. And after you've drowned, you infact do float.

FAIRYTALE QUERY TRAIL...

In childhood fables, why is it always the physically smaller character who emerges the "hero"? - The mouse rescues the lion, the tortoise wins against the hare, the monkey fools the crocodile, the elf helps the woodcutter, and so on.

If childhood tales are told to inculcate positive values, why did Jack steal from the giant, and why did the fox give up so soon on the grapes?

If the wicked queen would climb Rapunzel's hair each time to get into the tall tower, how did Rapunzel get inside the tower in the first place?

If Cinderella was allowed to stay out till midnight in the 16th century, why was Princess Fiona only allowed to stay out till sunset in the 21st century?

In the tale of the princess and the frog, was the prince actually cursed, or is the frog a metaphor for all males?!