Desert blues

Every other dusk,

when the sun went down

He stood there at the gate

His arms stretched out

pink she blushed and out she ran

breaking the shackles

-the hesitant lass

He looked her in the eye

put his arms around,

The orange desert sun gleamed

on her pink face

She smiled like an angel

Of divine grace

The moon shone

on her pale white face

He left her behind

Until the sun

would go down again.

And so she waited everyday

For the day to close in, So he would come,

Until one bleak dusk

When the sun went down,

She stood at the gate

Lo behold!

for the old familiar

happy face

but he never came down

from the desert sun

Not even once

Not even at all

Gamble Away Darling …

Why do Poker nights always end up being fun, even though you never know why exactly you are playing in spite of losing “ALL THE TIME”, may be because there is one lucky little B Who gets to win all the time.

Why do some idiots choose the same slot machine, to play for 20 more dollars when they just got 80 dollars from the poor little  machine,  and lose all 100 dollars?  May be they believe in luck so much that they don’t acknowledge the fact that there is Math  in the world. What can I say, Common Sense, of All things consequential and inconsequential, is the MOST uncommon.

I kinda feel playing cards is  a Sad people’s way of passing time, but then, I was happiest when I got 50 dollars from two American co-gamblers who pitched in for the miser that I was to play Black  Jack. Sad news folks, I knew I sucked and that is why I didnt put in the money …. ah what the hell, best Gambling memory ever. Yes! because these people don’t ask for the lost money back! Americans are awesome when it comes to Gambling.Don’t you think? As a side note, helps if you are a pretty chick.  Sometimes a nice looking guy would work too

When five people hit the Casino, the total money Lost is always equal to or greater than the total money gained . I’m pretty darn right coz why else you think there  are Casinos. Best way to deal with it, Gamble away as a gang and equally split the loss. Fun for everyone! Ok, may be to make it a little fairer,  the one who won the most can be allowed to break even.

For those who have never gambled before, I wanted to say get a life, But nah !! You should all Try it once, It is awesomeness  of course only  if you follow my Laws of gambling.

A hundred million Toffees..

The sound of the pleasant raspy saxophone
been through the test of time,
From a screechy old Gramophone,
A shot of tequila with a pinch of salt and a little of  lime.

A million little stars  on a clear sky with  no cloud,
seen through the broken roof of an old bungalow,
lying on an old piano covered in a dusty white shroud.

An Old book  and  A cup of  hot coffee,
The sound of the rain water hitting the roof,
Ah! Feels like I have eaten a hundred million Toffees.

Of all that is Cricket and of All that is Lame

Yes, Finally I’m going to write something that is not abstract or not a story.For all those people who Love cricket, Please stop reading the post right now, because I assure you, it is not going to be fun for you.

Disclaimer: What follows is a post which involves expression of hatred for the once awesome sport and the reason for it. I don’t intend to hurt anyone on any note.

I loved the sport. I really did, when there was one world cup once in four years and a couple of ODIs every year, I used to practically run from the bus stop, home listening to the Commentator, shout from inside the TV of all the houses on the way, making sure I’m not going to lose more than one over while I  executed this exciting sprint every afternoon during those times. Yet here I am, writing about how much I hate Cricket now.

The meaningless publicity, The bureaucracy, The cheerleaders.

Why for god sakes? There are enough people who enjoy the sport and watch it for the sport and not for the cheerleaders.Stop spoiling the macho sport that this is.

The irresponsible players who no longer have class, The drama.

Why would you slap someone?why the hell would you cry on TV? damn it!.

The advent of the celebrities who suddenly start loving the sport so much that they want to have something called the most stupid Indian Premiere league (IPL) , and then, Cricket became lame.

Lame to the extent that Mandira Bedi and her wardrobe of tattered little clothes became the presenter for something called the Twenty /Twenty world cup, which then became T Twenty,

what was that for?I gotta tell you “Not cool man, Not cool at all!

and all of a sudden all these gimmicks became so important, that the only reason cricket talk was in the air was for this and not for the love of the sport.

So now I’m one of those really frustrated once-upon-a-time-cricket-lovers, who cannot take it any more, and has started hating the word cricket and all the people who put status messages like “Tendlya Rocks!!!!” Get a life guys, Cricket is not the sport for us anymore.And I’m sad it is not!

Your wife is right! Cricket Sucks!!

Irony of Fate

The street was always bubbling with activity. There were merchants , goldsmiths and florists trying to charm the few customers that frequent the little bazaar by displaying their wares.There was an old bearded man who always stood near one of the flower shops playing his violin and there were at least ten people around him all the time.  There was shabbily dressed  eight year old who always stood right in front almost everyday with a little stick which he can use to find his way.He didn’t go without coming there, not even on a single day, he remembered how all the songs sounded like when the bearded man started playing it.On one such  usual Day and the bearded man beckoned the little boy and taught him how to hold the violin and how to play it. a couple of months went by, the little boy learned fast, he soon covered his master when he had to rest for a while so the crowd is entertained. He looked at the prodigy with all pride, when he rested.

One fine winter morning, when the street was not particularly crowded, the little boy dressed in his best clothes came running to see his master as usual, only to not find him. The florist beckoned the little boy and took him by his hand to give him something.The violin was left on the footsteps outside an abandoned little hut. There was a little braille note- he opened it. It was the notes for the new song he was supposed to learn, and someone had signed off saying “You are on you own…”. He felt the note with his little hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he took the violin trotted to the bazaar, where a couple of eager listeners waited, and started playing the violin, just like his master,only what he played was a mournful melancholy for it was the only way he was able to express his sorrow.

It was pitch dark and the three little yellow lamps on the dirty damp walls of the tunnel where simmering for want of a new tungsten. There was a puny little man  standing with a pile of messily cut wood just outside the tunnel, while he kept looking out for any sign of danger, from the wild world, Gripping his Axe tight as if ready to attack anyone near him.The train passed by and the night went by, the   next morning, a little Boy came by to take a last look at his Father and pick up the Axe. Life had to go on,  And so that night near the tunnel, there stood a Little boy with  a Lantern  and an Axe .

They were laid to rest under the orange sky, On the silent Land.Two people rose up into the sky and reached the huge wooden door in the middle of nowhere. One of them was a happy bearded man and the other a sad puny little man.They smiled at each other while they waited for the door to open.

Bliss…

Kutti was tied to the little brown log that was firmly rooted to the ground and locked with a chain as always. I was sitting on the flight of stairs just outside the house waiting for my grandma to leave. she is always careful about every little thing even if it is of no Significance and she was today, with the little shiny key that locked kutti. she wouldn’t give it to us not if we were lying on the bed waiting for our last wish of possessing the key come true.

She got ready to leave saying “Stay safe. Don’t forget to wear your shoes when you go out” I saw her leave and sat there thinking what I was going to do for the rest of the day while I longingly looked at kutti who was still tied, wishing he was free to take me somewhere around the country side.

It was boring and almost mid-morning. It was beautiful. The birds were chirping and the  squirrels were fighting for the cashew nuts strewn all over the  tiny not-so-symmetric bunch of stairs made of mountain rocks which take you down the hill to the narrow muddy road roofed by the thick green foliage preventing any kind of light from hitting the mud.

Maya came running once my grandma went out of sight, showing me something that was glimmering in the mild sun peeping out of the clouds.It was Kutti’s key. She was haughtily  grinning away to glory while she said “I stole it from grandma! what a dream come true” . Her voice set  a vibe of troubled pleasure. We slyly went near the beautiful white pony and Maya was just about to open it.The lock was little rusted and I bent down to help her open it up.

Suddenly kutti got a little restless and I heard some boots dashing  against the stone staircase. I turned back and I saw a couple of Cops walking up hurriedly.I asked them what the matter was and he questioned us and then all I did was flirt with the officer to get rid of him.Don’t really know if the officers were real or I was hallucinating or how they knew that we were up to some mischief.

Soon we opened up Kutti and I went to wear my shoes. There was something that pricked me inside the shoe. I put my hand in and took out a little rusted key. I took it out and smiled to myself.I had a familiar feeling,  that of troubled pleasure and I understood what Maya my little sister felt when she showed it to me, though it was for a completely different reason. My gran trusted me.

The alarm screamed. There was No white Pony, No staircase,No narrow road and No grandma.I had to get up get ready and get to work. The thought of this made me just lie down again and close my eyes and remember the beautiful countryside and the beautiful white Pony once again. I did it and It was Bliss indeed to have a perfect dream even when you know it can never come true.

Lost Love ?!

It was 6 in the morning and I was waiting for the only train that can take me to some place where, there could be some civilization little advanced than the Mohanjadaro. I decided I’m done with giving my time to nature and trees and forests that I just want to get back to the city. There was a lonely bench next to the bright yellow board which read ‘Paikkarappatti’.

A patch of green grass with little dew drops covered the leg of the yellow board. It was as if the grass was lovelorn but was still waiting for the sun to hug it with its bright smile. I was too bored staring at the lovelorn patch of grass and waiting for its beloved, which was mildly trying to make its presence felt. I left them behind to kiss and make up.

I followed the stream which seemed to be indomitably armed with persistence to reach somewhere; someplace bigger; some place where it can sit back and relax. I reached a slightly big river which was calmer than the stream.

A little boy was standing on a small rock and bathing an old elephant. He was lying on down lazily in the middle of the river.”Turn Gaja… I need to scrub your other ear … Now turn!!!” I heard him shout. The elephant slowly changed his position, so the little boy can do what he wanted. After the whole ritual he put lots of sacred ash on his forehead, tied the little bell around his neck and walked him slowly to the temple on the shore. I went behind them. The little boy turned to me handed a candy and said ” It is his Birthday Saab… he is as old as my Father ” and smiled. I took the candy and walked till the temple. Then I realized I had a train to catch, so I reluctantly walked back to the lonely bench below the yellow board. It was getting late. Someone who looked remotely like the station master came to me and said the train was not coming and it has been canceled because of some riots. I looked around to find the not- so- dirty lonely bench again, this time it wasn’t lonely. There was a couple sitting on it and from the looks of it seemed like they were having a deep emotional conversation. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate my presence around them so I started trotting along the stream.

I soon reached the river. There were a few of those catamarans. I sat on the shore leaning against one of them and watching the river flow down, the oars Romancing with the river and fighting with it, but they never stopped being together.

The day went by … and It was time for me to get ready for my travel once again. Most of the catamarans were shored and oars were kept away from the water. I went back to the abandoned bench. The grass was lovelorn again covered with tears of dew.

I suddenly happened to remember a verse by Wordsworth

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man

I Went in search of nature to forget the love I thought I lost. Like the oars that keep coming back to the water and like the sun that comes back to shine on the tiny blades of grass every dawn, It is going to come back to me. Hope springs eternal and  So does Love. And So I wait- Until I’m put to rest under the benign sky when night closes in on me forever.

The Knight in Shining Armour?!?!

You see a dark rugged guy, wearing a bemused expression, Naughtily grinning at a guy wearing a red color t shirt with flower prints, or glued to anything that remotely resembles a TV (even the OOH media thingi is good), always wearing a pair of earphones even though he is not actually listening to anything,  and occasionally letting out a few words that are  insanely sane, walking like he owns the road, it COULD be HIM

Quickgun Murugans and Revolver Ritas …..

The four of us were in school, supposedly one of the hippest schools in the small town madurai. We had the privilege of coming home at 1 in the afternoon, it was a five hour school. Usually we come home to an empty house waiting to have the most brilliant time of the day. It is not hard to imagine a house with four little girls and a Dog and No Neighbors, but in my opinion it is another name for Paradise. We were the rulers. we made the rules and broke them.

One such afternoons, I saw from a distance that the house was open. Parents!!!! they were home, On a weekday. We already had plans for the afternoon, We had made deals over who should read the Archie’s comic that would have got delivered that day first, and arguing about what movie to watch, and who should take up the responsibility of cleaning the house before the Kings come home, so it all looks spic and span and we have no road blocks for the next day of fun. We were disappointed. The gate was open and Mom and Dad were standing at the gate. There were 10 policemen standing in different corners of the barren land opposite the house, near all the acacia trees. They had funky walkies talkies and I was able to hear the word “OVER” over and over again.

The Previous Day ….

The plan for the afternoon was to play the notorious Police Thief game. We had gone to another level and we made it a really engaging game story. We make the plans when we walk from the bus stop home. There were No neighbors for us, our house was a corner house and the roads were Unmetalled. So we had marked a huge area where the game is allowed to happen which encompassed 3 big houses opposite to ours. The police team appointed a spy in the thief team to give them hints (part of a deal and the thief guys didn’t know). Soon there were almost 10 of us. 5 in each team and the game started. The spy, which was my sis, left the Police trails on the road, wherever they went and the Hints where coded and written on the roads with sticks and stones. One of Hints said “There is lot of gold under the acacia tree “, written in the Local language (Tamil). This essentially meant the thieves were near the acacia tree. Thus the police over powered the thieves, and were basking in the Glory.

This Afternoon

My sis slyly went near my dad and asked him what was up. He said the Police were there because they got some clues about where the jewelery stolen in the neighborhood was hidden. Apparently it was written on the road and our neighbor who had come to get some flowers from our garden noticed the stuff written on the road about the jewelry under the acacia tree. My parents were held up at home because they wanted to investigate. The four of us were dumbstruck. My little sis just blurted out “I wrote it!!!!”

Soon all the acacia trees around were uprooted. The little plants were saved. Thanks to my sister’s precise clue giving skills. They never came to know it was us. My dad just put us all in the room until the Policemen left. After the investigation was over, we had a big laugh about the whole thing.

This is not something I made up Trust me. It really happened!

The Woods… The City… And Love…

The sky was the early orange and the sun was young and beautiful. He got up and picked up his axe while nonchalantly humming a rustic meloncholy. He had to walk 5 kms from his little hut in the middle of a forest clearing. His son and daughter were in deep sleep under a bedsheet that covered them like a shroud. He started trotting his way to the destination, while he heard the sparrows chirp and see the sun get old, yet wholehearted and happy. He thought to himself “Im going to earn enough today to stay home with my kids tomorrow”.

The evening was as pleasant as ever. Kids were playing in the park and there were couples sitting in all the benches. There was a mild drizzle and the 4 o clock sun was just not ready to go behind the clouds. It was just trying to show itself off in front of the clouds so there had to be a rainbow now. A little kid was learning to fly a kite, the kite just wouldn’t budge. his dad showed him how to deceive the kite and he picked it up so fast and was running around the park with the kite just flying about 5 feet above him. he was still too happy, to let go off his childishly haughty grin.

It was a warm winter night. The staircase was as abandoned as ever. The moon was shining on the abandoned staircase through the leaves of the huge tree, the soft wind hustled through the leaves brushed against the both of them.Her hair flew and fell on her cheeks. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks to set her hair right. she turned pink and blushed like never before. He just took her in both his arms and kissed her for the first time.