Where poppies blow…

Another time, another day,

I weep and wail

in melancholic sway.

I watch him in stealth,

Like a bride in a veil,

As he Gallops away

With reins of disdain.

Down the  fields,

Where poppies blow,

He reined his steed,

In search of his foe.

Down the fields

where poppies blow,

He galloped away

To slay his foe.

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The “Not-so-solitary” Reaper

She woke up when the frail rays of the rising sun reflected off of her little mirror hanging loosely from an old rusted nail hammered in on the west corner of her little mud-walled-palm-leaf hut. The mirror was cracked diagonally across and the only use it actually had in all those years was signify the break of dawn.

She tied her long black hair in a loose up-do, picked up a mud pot and marched briskly to the little stone-walled well a few yards away. She broke a little neem twig from the adjacent tree and started chewing it, while she hauled water from the well, filled her mud pot with it,had a few gulps of the same water and marched steadfastly back to her hut, as if she was running late.

she walked out almost in a jiffy holding a sharp sickle in one hand and the mud pot in the other and started treading towards the highland in the middle of the hills, which was a few miles away., her hair was soon loose and the long black hair was swinging side to side as she walked, she did not stop to tie it back up.

She could see someone sitting and writing something on the other side of the highland, which made her curious. she did not want to attract attention, So she did not go and talk to him, but being the naive person she is, she started singing in her native tongue, an unfamiliar folklore of a solitary vagabond, who was looking for love and was lost in the highlands, and how she rescued him from his loneliness by singing an unfamiliar folklore in her native tongue, in a strange melancholic strain

Of Parenting and Pampering …

When I was little, my parents made a lot of sacrifices so I can be happy. The sacrifices they have made are not small and mentionable, they are countless, but they never regretted those sacrifices, oh wait, at least that is what I thought, when it suddenly occurred to me that it is not something I would say because, even if they did regret it, It did not last long and it was overcome by the amount of happiness I got from what they have sacrificed.They did it happily and never thought about what their life could have been. Yes they are great parents, and this is a tribute to those numerous parents who still are sacrificing major things for their little ones, financially, emotionally and physically. I would like to tell them –  “take it easy, pamper yourself now and then”. It is not just your kids who need pampering. Parenting is hard, and you all need a treat once in a while.

My dad knew this well and I am so proud of him for that. The impulsive stuff he got home when I was little, the clandestine  shopping errands that my dad and I went on with my mom having no idea whatsoever, The big brown leather couch and the Beautiful bookshelf that my dad bought home one summer evening are all still etched in my memory. It is true they are  all material stuff, very prone to destruction and may not mean a thing, but they are still around decorating every corner of my house with some beautiful memory associated with them. Even though my mom enjoy the luxury of having them she still complains about my dad’s over spending.  Money was tight back then but I was happy and blissfully unaware of the financial situation even though I knew I had to go to college on a student loan. I turned out OK, didn’t I?

Ahem ! Alright, alright! Don’t judge me….!

I wanted to share this with all the new parents so it could make a small difference in their lives and they can feel good about spending some money on themselves. There is one more twist to this and this is how it goes. Let us say, you are shopping for a pair of shoes for your little one and then you walk across this designer store and find a pair of skinny jeans you always wanted, and you decide to try it on. It almost always so happens that you will not buy it right away and you just would want to convince yourself that all the dieting worked and you are finally in much better shape than before. Then comes the “Price-tag Conundrum”.  You look at it and there, this can never go into your wardrobe because you start mentally calculating the worth of the new pair of jeans in terms of Baby stuff on x axis and time on y axis. Trust me the graph never looks good.

I may be wrong, you see, I am not good at Math , wait a minute or am I, I know graphs, x axis and y axis, ah forget about what I said earlier I am a math Guru, take my word for it

When you do that it is time for you to stop thinking and hit the registers in the store.

Run my friend Run with the jeans

I say this because, If I were your kid, I would feel really guilty that my mom couldn’t have a pair of jeans that she really liked. Now would you want to put your kids through this sorrow? This will scar them for life. So buy away once in a while, If you are a good parent, you will never make your kid feel bad, and guess what? Pampering yourself actually helps the kids in a sort of twisted way . It is OK they will understand if they cannot go for summer camp when they are 3 and they will be glad to stay home with you or their grandparents. In fact the major chunk of the childhood I remember was when I was with my grandparents. I bet it is true with most of you.

And yeah, all dads hurry and get yourself a nice and cozy barcalounger, you don’t want your son feeling bad about this later.

You have a good reason, father’s day is around the corner

Life is short, for both you and your kids. It is important to have a balance in terms of things you give up for your family, and that is what makes family the most important in the world.

Spare the rod and spoil yourself

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.

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.