crazy thought

Some crazy little people,
Lived in my head.
The crazy little people,
They wanted to fight.

On the table,
They laid,
A cloth-
Made of thought.

Sat around the table,
Crazy little people,
Tearing and pulling,
Spraying spots of million hues.

And there I sat,
Laughing and crying;
Tormented
By the same thought.

random thought

My first bicycle;
Excited I climb on!
My feet,
Barely reaching the ground.

A fear creeps in,
What if I fall.
Still I try,
To ride my first bicycle.

Two steps,
The bicycle tilts,
Oh, I am going to fall,
So says my mind.

Miracle!
It doesn't,
For my dad's hand,
Catches me before I fall.

silence of the pen

The pen,
It lies in the corner,
Away from paper,
With a broken nib.

There were days,
It never did rest;
Pouring my thoughts,
Scarring through sheaves.

Gone are the days,
It had ink to its brim,
Falsifying truth,
And transmuting lies.

Thoughts still sail,
And words does flow,
But the pen remain,
Tongueless and dumb.

Bangalore Ultra Marathon 2008

Pre Marathon Thoughts:

It has not been six months since I've started having an obsession for running. Before that, I could hardly run more than 3kms. So with these experiences tucked into the past, I decided to run my first official race- the Bangalore Ultra Marathon 2008.

I registered for 50kms. You should be thinking I am mad. Anyone will. After registration, even I thought the same. So the last-to-last weekend, I decided to do my regular training run, and decided how much I can push myself. I did 36kms in a time of 4 hours 9 minutes. Not bad a time, but, I could not push myself to the distance of 42kms, that I wanted to run. I was defeated. That too, badly.

End of the run, I started developing shivers and what-not. I had a hard time driving back home. I was almost going to throw up, and I decided to go and sleep with an empty stomach. I finally managed to sleep, for 5 hours straight.

It is after this realization that I pondered, if 50km will be a bit too much on me. Especially remembering the fact that I'll not be able to reach back home as and when I want. And the result: I boldly chickened out to 25km category.

D-Day:
Bangalore Ultra Marathon happens at a resort called Our Native Village (ONV), approximately 50kms away from Bangalore, near to Hasserghata. The organization of the whole event was very good. They had a bus service from Cubbon Park to the resort, and back.

The buses for 25km category runners were stipulated to start at 4.30AM. That meant I had to get up at 2.30AM, pack my stuff, and get ready. I then had to find a "safe" place to park my car, in that, at the end of the gruelling race, I did not have to tackle another race of hunting for a towed away car. I decided to leave the car at Church St, adjacent to Brigade road, and walk till Cubbon park.

I parked my car, walked up, and reached the bus. The time was 3.45AM. Another 45 minutes left. There were few many runners there already. Most of them were for the 50km category, whose running will start earlier. So also, they had their bus leaving early- 4AM.

Many of the runners left in the first bus, and many joined in with us for the second bus at 4.30AM. Finally the bus took off at 4.35AM. On the way, they distributed oranges, biscuits and such. But I declined all of them, as I can run only on my empty stomach. (Yes, thinking of the food at the end of it is one good motivation to run).

At 6AM, we reached the ONV resort. The only small glitch, that I found in the organization of the event, was that there were only two toilets, and no bath rooms to take bath, or extra changing rooms. I felt, this is the only thing they could have taken care of.

There was no other runner from my running group who was participating for the event. I thought that I'd be stranded alone in the whole pack of runners. Luckily, I found Ashok, a pleasing chap who we used to keep bumping onto during our weekend runs, and had even run with our group once. Now, I had company.

By 6.15AM I was all ready for the run- in my running shorts, shirt and my favourite running shoes. Me and Ashok, marched out to the start-and-finish point of the race.

The 50km runners were already near the start line, waiting for their gun fire, commencing their run at 6.30AM. Aravind, the organizer of the event, and a offical of Run-For-Life running club was dispensing information on the running track, aid posts and such.

The running track is 6.25km one way, making it a 12.5km loop. And 25km meant 2 loops. Sounded easy enough. There were 4 aid posts on the way, serving electerolytes, oranges, bananas, water, and even peanut butter sandwiches (OMG, whose gonna eat that between the run is the first thought I had hearing this).

50km runners already started. Now time was approaching for the start of our race. Just a few minutes before our run, one runner from 50km category came to the finishing point, finishing his first loop- this means he is running at a speed greater than 12.5km/hr. And, no prizes for guessing, he was the winner of the race.

6.30AM: Gun fires. Our race starts. Seeing the pack of people, bumping on to each other, I started getting nervous. All I was thinking of is how to get out of the pack. Just as soon as the race started, the adrenaline rush, along with the urge to get out of the pack, made me sprint out. Couple of minutes, I was in a comfortable position, but, already feeling that I shouldn't have done that sprinting exercise. What I forgot is that the runners is going to get spread across this whole track of 6.25km in a matter of minutes. Early aggression, I knew, is bad. But I couldn't control it.

I had already set my watch to 9minutes count down- to run at 8:1 ratio, running for 8minutes, recuperating the next 1 minute with a walk.

The track is a red mud track. Music had already started pumping me the energy. And minutes passed by with seemingly no change, except the amount of gatorade in the bottle.

I must have finished the first 6.25km in a matter of 30 minutes. I kept running at the same pace. By the end of 10km, I started feeling it. I began realizing I was pusing it harder, and if I did that I might not even finish the 25km.

Lap one ended. Time should be approximately 7.40AM. Pace was okay. I changed my gatorade bottle and had a bite of chocolate. I took a sip of the drink I had in my sipper, synthetic caffeine with lemonade flavour. It just did magic, and I literally sprinted on my way out of the first lap.

Few minutes later, tiredness started kicking in. By the 4km mark, I was doing 7minutes run and 2 minutes walk. I finished the 6.25. I was tired that I didn't even notice the time. At the aid post, I picked a few pieces of orange, ate a few, and dropped a few in my pocket.

By this time, my play list had started its second loop. I tried Linkin Park for some time, and it was too heavy, I felt, it was draining energy out of me. I decided to switch back to the first playing list, my favourite.

The last 6.25km lap was extruciating. I started feeling tired, growing afraid if I'll drop out. But I believed in myself, told myself that I've done more distances than these, in better times. I just kept pusing. The trance had set in my mind. Running was the only thing happening. I was not even listening to the music that was playing.

Two aid posts and a couple of orange pieces later, I was at the last 2km mark. There was a person almost 2-3 meters infront of me. I wasnted to catch up to him, badly. Started pushing harder, and I began realizing he is a better runner than I.

Last 100meters, 50, 20.. 10 meters. The last turn and I can see the finishing line. Yes. I finished it in 2hours 37minutes and 30seconds. I'd have been happier if the time was below 2hr 30minutes. But, I am still satisfied with my results.

Athul announced the finishing of bib number '026', that is me. I felt happy hearing the clap from the spectators. I should be in the top 20 runners to finish, among the 170 runners who participated in the 25km category.

I stretched my legs and arms. Kept some ice on the knee, took off the bib from my chest. And joined the spectator crowd. I talked to few other runners who had finished already. And finally I caught a glimpse of Ashok. He had finished in 2hr 51 minutes, but I missed him finish.

There was a photobooth to take some memories of the event along with you. I went there gave my name to see what they give. They said, they'll be mailing me when the photos are available, over email.

In between, a runner passed us, and an announcement came from the stage: he is running 200km; and had started running 6pm on the Saturday evening. This meant he has already been running for more than 16 hours, continuously. Probably he'll finish in another 5-6 more hours- in 20-24 hours of time. Now, that is what I call endurance.

There was a good lunch provided for the runners. I finished that by around 12.30PM and moved out of the crowd. Made a few calls- announcing my achievement, and by 1.45PM, I was in the bus. The bus, back to Bangalore, took off at 2PM.

The back seat journey was tough on my back. Finally 2hours, a dozen jumps, a seat change, and a few pleasant talks later, I was back at Cubbon park. I walked (or rather dragged myself) back to the car in the Church street. And unsurprisingly, the car was still there and was not towed away.

I thought of getting some books on the way back, but ditched the plan. Got back home. Finally after a bath, some food, and a movie (you'll call me crazy, yet again, if I said, I watched "Silence of the Lambs" to relax myself) I was back in shape. Night came in early for me, and I still can't figure out when I slept. :-)

Post Marathon Thoughts:
Marathon is tough. It is more about endurance than fitness. I was surprised to see people running 75km, 100km and inevitably 200km. It took a lot of guts to do that. What surprised me even more was that there were women running in 50 and 75km categories. Some of them should be in their 40s or 50s.

Indians were less into running for quite some time. Just like any other western habit, I guess running is also getting accepted in the Indian society. And luckily, this time what we have acquired out of westernization is not an evil, probably just a minor madness. :-)

simplicity

A million laughs,
And you still may not get the joke;
Just a single tear,
And you know the pain behind.

A million smiles,
You may not remember;
But the moment of pain,
You will never forget.

Simple,
Pain is,
But, simpler-
Are the tears!

missing spaces

Unread,
Are the spaces between,
Yet they are the meaning,
Between the words.

Missing,
Thespacesbetween,
Through the knitted words,
The meaning; it drain out!

--
31/10/2008

half moon

The man
Who painted my night sky,
Left before,
The moon was a full circle.

So the moon,
Stays in my night,
Incomplete;
Like a cynical smile.

light tower

Life,
On the lonely tower,
Living,
With lights of solitude.

Lights,
That beckon the ships;
And words,
Shouted in silence.

Life,
Has set sail,
Guided,
By the lights, unknown!

random thought

When dreams end,
Before life does;
When rain stops pouring,
Before the land is wet.

Earth will look up,
To the sky,
Just like the life,
Counting stars,
In a blue noon sky.

eternal demarcations

Four men started the journey-
East, West, North and South:
Duly named they were,
For, on nothing, they ever did agree.

At the first ray of dawn,
They reached a seamless plain,
Undivided and undisputed;
"Perfect" they said in ironic synchrony.

East had the chains, to mark the land,
West had the tape, to measure it all.
A piece of charcoal, North did carry,
And from a stair's top, South saw it all.

Tore apart, land and its waters.
Island of thoughts, they spawned off.
And left it to men,
To fight over it and die.

"How boring, life has become!"
Said they all, in the same note,
Ironic synchrony strikes again.
Time to divide, it is again.

"Oh the air, is not split",
Said the North, and all did agree.
Set to work they, once again,
With tools of eternal demarcations.

East was in trouble,
To pin the chains in air.
West was worried,
What he will measure.

North had the charcoal,
Drawing lines in air;
And South fell off the stair,
Kept leaning against the air.

"Failure"
They said in synchrony.
"For how will we divide,
That we can could never touch"!!

first blossom

12:09 pm (1 minute ago)

delete

jagadeesh

first blossom..

The first blossom-
A flower so beautiful;
Like a proud mother,
The plant, shows the world.

Swaying,
In the cradle of wind,
Dancing,
To the drops of the rain.

Oh flower,
How beautiful you are!

The blind man's path
Crosses the flower's life,
Petals stuck to the sandal's sole,
Walks the man, into the unknown.

Oh flower,
How fragile you are!!

mellifluous rainbow

The bird which had no name,
Comes and sits by my window;
The bird with colourful feathers,
I wake up to see it everyday.

Melodious its song is,
So says the words I've read;
For me who is deaf,
Song is a ripple, waiting for the stone!

When came voice, into my life,
I waited for the rainbow;
For the seven notes of music,
That never my sky had painted.

I sat by the window,
Hours and days,
But the bird I've never heard,
Never again came to my window!!

--
29/08/2008

hide and seek

Life hides behind time,
And death follows in silent foot steps.
In this game of hide and seek,
You are destined to be found.

Death with its long fingers,
Will reach the dark corner of life.
From behind the veil of time,
Oh life, You are destined to be found!!

--
29/08/2008

a no-twist-in-tale story

I know,
Here,
The story ends.

The story of self,
Drama of life.
Thespian art,
I play, but not for a living.

I keep waiting,
To take my final bow,
Your august presence,
In a front row seat.

I'll bow,
To none but you.
And till you are here,
The curtain will not fall.

Isn't it life,
What we all live for?

--
15/08/2008

Freedom

Freedom, is when I fly,
Into the starless skies
And sprinkle the white paint,
Drawing my own stars!

Freedom, when I sit,
By the river side,
Stirring its silence,
Making the moon in her
Dance to my ripples.

Freedom is when I am mesmerized,
In the smile of a kid,
The innocent, greedless smile,
Clad in his torn clothes.

Freedom is when I am lost,
Looking in your eyes.
In the world of love,
For us, to be together,
For ever and always!!

--
Jagadeesh
11/o8/2oo8

Blue turtle's dream

The ripples;
A bubble,
Rises from the deep,
Dancing to it.

The blue turtle dreams,
In the shadow of the bubble;
Colourful dreams,
Dancing to its hues.

A sway to the left,
A sway to the right,
But there is no way,
Than the way up.

Bubble of life,
Shines in the turtle's eyes.
And will disappear,
In the span of a dream!!

--
Jagadeesh
o2/o8/2oo8

Tongues of Flame

Flame of the fire,
Is like a desire,
Dancing to the whims,
Just like a wind-chime.

Close your fingers around,
For it may blow out,
To that gush of wind;
So fragile it is!

Touch not the flames,
As it could burn,
For you do not know,
The power it with-holds.

Desires are like flames,
Following to your death bed;
And can still keep dancing,
Even when you are not alive to see it!!

--
Jagadeesh
o4/o8/2oo8

the man who cried

A burning heart,
Inside the man,
A fatherly glance,
Across the street.

There he stood,
Looking across,
His son walking away,
Leaving the grip.

The two days have gone,
In the blink of an eye.
Two days of rights,
To hold his child.

Moments of joy,
Moments of tears,
And all the answers,
To a thousand questions!

And now there he stood,
Across the road,
With a million emotions,
Answering, his own!!

Fear of losing,
His only child;
Of being misread,
By his only son!

Walking away,
Is his ray of hope,
Like the evanescent rays,
Of the evening sun.

Cubed

One of the first puzzles that I got as a gift in my life (*and the one that I did not solve for the longest time) remains the Rubik's cube. To all who knows what that six faced, not so easily tamable beast is, they know how much they appreciate one who can solve it.

I got the gift in fifth grade. I knew the formulas also. But that time, the only problem was to know what formula to apply where. Then gradually my cubic itch just subsided.

It is recently that I started looking at it once again. Thanks to Douglas Hofstadter's Metamagical Themas. All that group theory and stuff behind, got me motivated again to do fiddle with it. There started my cubic itch again.

I sought out various ways of solving it (*at least got to know the names of those algorithms). But my timing remained very very bad, around 30 minutes or so, compared to the world record of around 10-15 "seconds".

Then came the deus-ex-machisma of cubism, one of my colleague. As by serendipity my cube got to meet him. With his easy to remember moves (* which even a dumbo like me could learn in one day) and his amazing teaching skills, here I am, always finishing a cube (*unless I confuse the moves) in less than 5-10 minutes. Now the road beyond is of practice, and my upper limit, will remain a mark of my dumbness.

But yes a cube solved means, no more fear of someone destroying that perfectly set cube, kept in the shelf!!

swapping sides

Being neutral,
I had no left and right.
So I wore my shoe,
The wrong side right.

People stared,
Some laughed,
But no one said,
What was right!

A small kid with blue eyes,
Walks to me and says
"The shoe is not right"
And I say-
"It is my right".

The girl waves good bye,
And walks away from me,
And I remain,
On the wrong side of right!!

Me, Zeno, Life and the Unattainable

Mastering the impossible motion,
Walking to the unreachable goal,
Pacing- faster, to cross the tortoise,
Zeno's shadow, falls on the ethereal mind.

The arrow in flight,
Is where it is,
And is not,
Where it will not be.

Series of frames,
Feeling of motion,
But nothing moves,
Cartoon of life!

I run to the goal,
Stepping over each word,
Isolated-
They do not mean the sentence!!

Solving the paradox,
Chopping its meaning,
Life remains,
Hysterical as ever!!

loners..

The treeless leaf,
That lies on the floor,
Like a loner it rebels,
To the barbarian storm.

The soundless word,
At the back of my mind,
Like a loner it rebels,
To my unyielding thoughts!!

Last drop of the rain,
Carried by the wind,
It clings to the leaf,
And holds the sun in its mold!

Unthought thoughts,
Unsaid words,
Flameless fires;
And with an unkindled spirit,

Loner, I tread my roads..

across the sky

Lost in thoughts
Sailing across the sky,
I sit on the cloud,
Smiling at the moon.

The invisible oars,
Tickle the sky,
And ripples form,
Like heavenly giggles!

I round my lips,
To kiss the moon,
But moon- the naughty one,
Blows my cloud back.

I wake from my dream,
And rush to the window,
Parting the curtain,
I see the moon,

And his naughty smile..

My telescope

To the other Earth,
I discovered yesterday,
I turn my telescope,
And I see me.

Another time,
At another place,
Another me,
Is looking at me!

I see twinkles,
More and more of them,
All the 'me's of the world,
Flashing in rhythm.

The 'me's and 'I's
Of the known and unknown,
Stretching the souls,
In circle they step

To an eternal cosmic dance!!

a customer's plea

A recent event at a restaurant coerced me to react to it at the best way possible. And what could I managed to do was to get the mail id of the VP of the hotel chain, and mail her. Here it goes, the snippet served from my mail..

Respected madam,

Being a true connoisseur of food, it is not less than a dozen times that I have visited the Indijoe restaurant on Airport Road here in Bangalore, in the last one to two year span of time. The food, ambience, service and just about everything: the whole experience, I felt, was no less than excellent. And, it was a happy news for me to know that a new Indijoe has opened up on the Old Madras Rd, at a walk-able distance from my home. And last week I decided to give it a try.

At the first look the ambience was at par with the other Indijoe. And the man in charge there, came and asked if he can help me. I said I wanted a table for a person. He pointed me over to the bar table counter, and when I said I was there to have food also, not just drinks, he said they don't have tables for individuals. Pardon me, but I just wondered if I had walked into a road side dhaba! If he had told me that there is no two-seater table available, and I'd have to wait for a while, I would have understood. But this was way too much for me.

I have traveled across a lot of places, dined right from the road side restaurants to the five and seven star hotels like Taj and Leela. This was the first time I had come across an experience of this sort- literally, getting thrown out of a restaurant, for being single. I have seen hotels saying 'dogs not allowed', but, 'singles not allowed'- this has to be a new trend! If it had been a discotheque or a place like that, allowing no stag entry, I could have understood. All this man wanted was, me to have one more person, if I need a table; and what was I to do- wait outside the restaurant, for some unlucky customer like me who gets thrown out eventually, and pair up with him for a table?

I am not flaming, or even trying to play a blame game here. All I want to put across is, how a customer like me who "used to" adore Indijoe, gets totally annoyed and irritated by an incident like this, and having to walk out and search for another place to eat(luckily here in Bangalore, good restaurants are, for your kind information, not hard to find). Every time we friends had parties, treats and such get-together occasions, I used to suggest Indijoe as the best place to go for. What this person, who threw me out forgot is that an individual coming to a restaurant one time, is the one who is going to bring along a whole family the next time, provided the atmosphere is enchanting and not annoying!!

Sorry for such a long mail. But I was just trying to point out the feeling of a customer without loosing on the emotions behind the words. I believe you value each and every customer (over a pack of them who might be shelling in a couple of more bucks) and keep Indijoe as nice as it used to be, keeping with the reputation of the BJN group. I request you to do the needful. And just in case, if there is any need to contact me over a phone, my number would be: xxxxxxx

Thank you for you time.

To my surprise, she responded, the same day. And here it goes..

Dear Mr. Jagadeesh,

Thank you for taking the trouble of writing this mail.

It is very distressing and disturbing for me to hear that one of our manager's has behaved in such an unprofessional manner.

Please accept my sincere apologies and be rest assured, I will personally take this matter up very strongly with the team. Please do not hold this one incident against us. I assure you, you will not be disappointed.

My number is xxxxxx. Please feel free to call me for any assistance.

Regards,
xxxx
Vice President (Operations)
BJN HOTELS LIMITED
Bangalore

If you ask me what did I gain from spending my time on this behalf is expressing the power of a customer. And I do respect every concern and company that do take care of customers, they are, people who really knows how to handle the business. And the gist of the post is not a black mark in any way against Indijoe, or the BJN group, but on the contrary, my respect for a VP who finds time to come down to a customer's level to address an issue.

For me, it is a rebellion sought (not exactly, but for the rhyme), fought and got!

Ah, Poetry! -- Innocence Lost

Where has the charm gone, I ask, when I visit the "Ah, Poetry..." community on Orkut now-a-days. It used to be one community of budding and veteran poets, having poetic exchanges, comments and criticisms and so forth.

I still remember the day I joined the community; almost a year back. It was very addictive. Poetry became an indispensable part of my life, fired by the inspiration- of knowing that there are readers who take time and read your poem.

Now what remains is petty fights, egoism and a once-in-a-while appearing gem of poems. "Why?" my mind asks. Here is the ten commandments of "Ah, Poetry..." (*and many of them, I live with it, knowing nothing can be done).

1. Give more to get more (comments).
   
2. To get maximum comments (*but most of them nothing but a half read, or rather not-read comment saying 'nice', 'great' and all such) you have to be a female.
3. To get more comments (*to top up on 1.) you need to be a female with a profile pic (*beautiful the better).
4. Every one has a hidden intention- satisfying an ego, snatching some fame, irritating one that gets the most comments and so on the list goes.
5. The best way to get a girl accept your friendship request (*proven) is to read a dozen of her poems, put in some sweet comments interspersed with some criticisms (*for that she has to write one or two poems which are understandable) and then send the request. 99% you will be accepted.
6. Everyone starts with a spree, that he/she got more comments than mine (*and my mind saying, that no that write is not even worthy as mine), so I need to do something about it.
7. Blessed- Anonymity allowed. Hide behind the veil and shout all things filthy- decent outside, indecent inside- and act, there is no fairer an angel than me!
8. Everyone complains, but the fact is, to a poet, nothing can be a replacement for "Ah, Poetry!".
9. Everyone complains, but the fact is, to a poet, nothing can be a replacement for "Ah, Poetry!".
10. Finally (almost) everyone reaches a stage of 'Nirvana', where no one's pranks affect you; drag you into controversies, and you remain 'selectively-blind'.
    

Tail Note:
I haven't written this as a finger-pointing article at anyone. Till a wordly fight becomes a fist fight, silence can be the best aegis.

Poothan and Thira

In the mid summer heat,
The 'chenda's they sing.
Like the spring among seasons,
With a convivial tone.

I stand at the gate,
With effervescent joy,
The procession of lights,
For it to arrive.

I know they rhythm.
And emotions overwhelm-
Of fear, and anxiety;
'Poothan and Thira'- arriving!

Hide behind mom,
And I peep from a side,
But the poothan sees me,
The pace of his dance- growing!

War of the good,
Against the evil,
They dance to the rhythm,
So does my feet.

Memories flood,
Like tides to the sea shore,
Hearing the 'chenda'
'Pooram' is here yet again.

Sitting in a wheel chair,
Pushed by my mother,
This time when 'Poothan' comes,
Only my mind will dance!!

--
17/o6/2oo8


Tail Note:
Pooram is a festival in Kerala. It is an annual festival associated with temples. There will be a pooram for the most important temple of a region. That used to be the biggest festival for the natives of that specific region, who worship the God of that temple. The most famous one is Thrissur Pooram.

The way Pooram is celeberated varies. There is always elephants and a musical instument called Chenda, a form of drum. People can never feel nothing when they hear the rhythm of a Chenda.

Poothan and Thira is an art form, part of Pooram in the central part of Kerala, much like a minor version of Kathakali. It is a type of dance form, which travels across to each house in the specific region. Poothan has a scary dressing and tries to scare children around him with his sword and all. Thira is another dance form, but much less scary. The word Poothan comes, supposedly from Bhootam, the Malayalam word for Bhoot.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pooram

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenda

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poothan_and_Thira

Walking Away

Time has come,
When I am no more a child,
Time whispers,
It is 'time' to make my flight.

I will be parting my home,
Walking away,
Bidding good bye,
And not looking back.

Walking away,
From that jasmine
That bloomed yesterday,
For the first time.

Walking across, a breeze,
That lilts the paddy,
As naughty as ever;
Ruining the hair,
That I had set.

Crossing red mud floors,
Where I took the first steps.
When the little hand
Was holding my father's fingers.

I can feel the tears,
In my mother's eyes-
A good bye-
And I keep walking away,
Not looking back!!

--
17/o6/2oo8

Surrender

I genuflect.
And on my knee-
I stand;
The seventh in line.

Closing my eyes, with
Hands tied behind the back;
And wanting to close my ears,
Every time the gun cries!

Death swallows,
One by one;
And it will come,
Knocking at my door!

Every fire,
And to every final sigh,
I feel my heart,
Skipping a beat.

The bitter cold,
Behind my neck,
When the thirsty revolver,
Gives me the last tickle.

I count the moments,
Sensing a finger,
Making love with the trigger,
"Click!"

There was no fire,
An empty revolver,
He is in no hurry,
So too the heaven's door.

I hear the reload,
But I am numb,
To all that I call world,
And I wait, for the gun to fire again.

--
16/o6/2oo8

Tail Note
A brief history. During Second World War, Japanese had captured many Americans as prisoners of war, and one of the most heinous camp was at Palawan, in Philippines. After the grip tightened on Japan, sensing that America might come back to save their soldiers, Japan started executing the prisoners of war.

Burrows were dug and many were pushed in to it, then pouring petrol into it and incinerating. Then again, many were made to kneel, and a man firing bullets behind their neck.

The whole of these war crimes (*no I am not blaming just the Japanese here, it has happened to all the countries that have waged war) goes through "Bataan Death March", "Palawan Massacre" and all.

More details can be found here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bataan_Death_March

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palawan#Palawan_Massacre

Divine moves

A spin,
A swirl,
Then, on the edge
A ballet dance.

Coffee mug-
Tipped,
Fell
And spilled.

My secret potion

A drop of faith,
A pinch of hope,
Pour in belief -
And all into trust,

What I did not know,
Is of the never changing summer,
The concoction,
Evaporates!!

--
Jagadeesh
15/05/2oo8

Perfect trap

A trap is set,
And made luring,
With rubrics,
And I hide it
Under layers of words.

My poetry waits,
With an open mouth,
For victims,
Who falls prey,
For my crazy words,
And idiosyncratic title!!

You are here, entrapped
And whom do you bring along?

--
Jagadeesh
21/o5/2oo8

Lamentation- 2 haikus

Season turns autumn,
A wind sneaks in through my door,
And the door, laments!

--
Mournful melodies,
Mosquitoes sing for the night;
Silence takes its toll!

cosmos

The little naughty kid,
Plays around the universe,
Rolling planets on the sky's floor,
And sticking stars on the dark walls.

Tired he is,
Running all around the cosmos.
Tilts and sits, he, on the moon,
Hanging his bare feet on to its side.

Feels with his fingers,
The clouds passing by,
Blows a gust of air,
And makes them fly off!

Restless,
He takes off;
To play with a new toy,
From his toy-box of cosmos.

We are all just his toys,
Still, mesmerized we stand,
At his naughtiness,
Uncertainty -

The only thing certain..

--
Jagadeesh
16/o5/2oo8

Atomic Kitchen (1) - burnishing a hidden talent

Scene 1:
The day starts, just like any other. Birds chirping, zephyr flowing. Nature as always, showing its magnificent splendour.
The only catch, I woke up early (*earlier) and hungry out of the bed. Now what is the option. Get up, do all the morning poojas and get out for a breakfast? Nah! That's gonna take a tad too long.

Bulb flashes- idea!!

I'll cook. "Wow! Amazing, but what?"- my mind asks. Egg toast. Now that sounds tasty. I said why not.

Cooking, till that time, that very second, was one among my latent talents. No one, including myself had explored that facet of mine.

The stage is set. The utensils are laid. All I need to do is... to break an egg. How do I do that? Do I throw it into a cup? Or do I cut it? But where to cut? The corner or the center? "No!", nothing to worry; it is my specialty: I can cut it anywhere, and I mumbled to myself - "here goes nothing!!".

Holding the egg over the cup, with the sleight of hand, like a magician, I do it- I make the cut- or rather a half cut. Now comes the artistic part, breaking it off and pouring.

Hands perfectly placed on sides (between the words, I did cut it in the center, to break the suspense) I tear it to the sides. The raw egg flows. Not a single drop spilled, "wasn't that wonderful?"; but, into the cup. All that was there in the cup was, a few broken shells.

All said and done, even 'the best cook in the world' makes mistakes at times. It is when things go wrong- serendipity happens- that is I get a raw egg to toast!

Tail Note:
The best part was the smell of the raw egg, that prevailed, over hours, days and weeks. Now I am not sure whether the smell is gone, or I just got used to it!!

To add, this is surely not the end of my kitchen adventures; the saga has only begun.

meterosexual

Wore a shirt,
That said many words.
Kept long hair,
And a goatee beard.

Waxed legs,
Threaded brows,
Studded ear,
No, I am not gay.

I am the rebel,
Who has no cause,
Going to the same saloon,
Talking of change.

Life-
Twists and turns,
I never will be,
Good, bad or ugly!!

mechanisation

I fold my hands,
And beg;
To feel a drop,
My skin, craves!

Its mind denies;
When machines think,
The tap is no more,
Automatic!

I'll think and find,
A cure for thoughts,
No more it should spread,
And I'll make them-

Mindless machines!!

help in need

Too short I am,
My fingers barely reaching;
I stand on my toe,
Still its too high.

I cry for help,
Victim of 'heightlessness',
There came a man,
To see the child's cry.

Took me in his arms,
Made me reach the bell,
And I ring;
And I ring.

He asks:
"Now what?"

And I whisper:
"Run...!!"

a different dance

Pages waltz,
Unread, to the breeze,
And I, droop

--
25/o5/2oo8

Journey

Sitting by the window,
To a destination unknown;
Nodding to the rhythm,
Of the train's clicks-and-clangs.

I can feel the touch,
Of nervousness in his glance,
Staring at robber soul,
Sitting by his luggage.

A sky so grey,
Like an over-washed rag,
I travel past places,
Glinting at faces.

Closed gates,
Long queues,
Honking cars,
And men-
With wiped off smiles.

Cradled by the motion,
Lullaby of the train,
A tranquil sets in,
And I, fly my dreams

Yet again...

PS: Image with due regards to the respective owner; not under the blog copyright.

Wet Feet

Standing in the stream,
Parting ways behind my feet,
Flows past me, kissing,
A gleeful reunion
And stream flows on, unhindered!!


PS: Image with due regards to the artist, not under the blog owner's copyright

Yesterdays

Coming in drenched,
I walk over to the first bench,
My shoes squishing and squashing
Drenched, just like me.

Rain is still showering,
Outside the window,
I sit there dreaming,
Of my bygone holidays!

Teacher walks in.
I dig from my bag,
And open the book,
Feeling the smell of fresh ink.

I can feel someone eying,
At my shiny new pencil.
No, I'll not lose this one,
To mom I have promised.

The ink is still wet;
Rain hasn't stopped yet.
Evergreen yesterdays-
I can feel its pull;

Still....


PS: Image with due regards to the respective owner, and is not under the blog owner's copyright.

Capturing a smile

I stood,
Staring;
Numb
And worried.

I was to smile,
At this machine;
At its wide eye, knowing-
It will not smile back.

I am here,
And I'll smile,
To one that doesn't know-
Faking.

Like a white rabbit,
Lured by the lime light,
Into the wolf's den,
Behind a little black box!!

PS: Image with due regards to the artist and is not under blog owner's copy right.

I:
Season turns autumn,
A wind sneaks in through my door,
And the door, laments!


II:
Mournful melodies,
Mosquitoes sing for the night;
Silence takes its toll!

--
19/o5/2oo8

abandoned souls

Broken pencil,
Unfinished words,
Half-blank papers,
Promises forgotten!

Wake of a man,
Who left in a hurry;
Trail of life,
Lived in a scurry!

Incompleteness prevails..

--
PS: Image with due regards to the artist, not under the blog owner's copyright.

suicide

Mind quivering,
I decide,
Hands trembling,
The pill is taken!

Thoughts crawling,
Down from every nook,
Like zombies - half dead,
They reach me, hands stretched!

Then "puff" they die,
Like a blown-out candle flame,
In a silent procession,
One by one they leave!

Life's last mile,
No steps are retraced,
Silence counts seconds,
When life,

Dissolves....

--
13/o8/2oo8

PS: Image with due regards to the artist, not under the blog owner's copyright.

I believe..

I can see the cracks,
Running over the wall.
I still believe,
It is not going to fall!

I know the room is dark,
Painted black,
I still believe,
I can see your eyes sparkle.

I can feel this dingy,
This strange place;
I still believe,
This can be heaven,
with you around!

Running my fingers,
I feel the floor so coarse,
I still believe,
It can be silk linen,
with you in my arms!

After the Rain

After the rain,
Made love to earth,
After the clouds part,
Moon shines again.

In the drops of love,
Caught on the leaves,
Moon shine,
Just like pearls!

Under the new spun blanket,
Earth sleeps,
Catching dreams,
Flying fireflies!

In the whispers of wind,
Leaves quiver,
The drops of love, trickles,
Falling on her face..

Earth sighs, in her sleep!!

Silent Night

"What the wind,
Whispered to the candle?"
Asked the darkness,
To the flame!

"Sang a song,
Told me stories,
From beyond the seven seas,
Where the wind comes from!"

Said the flame,
Flowing,
To the voids,
Of a blowing breeze!

Said the wind,
"Come with me,"
And went the flame,
Dancing with the wind!

Light then melted
Into darkness,
Darkness, going to sleep,
With a satiated appetite!!

One still can hear -
The whispers, of light and candle,
And the snores of the darkness,
In the deepest silence of the nights!!

--
Jagadeesh
24/o8/2008

school days

A game of hide and seek,
I slip away from mom's hands.
I hide behind the curtains,
Hoping, the hands won't find me!

Here she comes,
Running after me,
With that ever-forgiving smile,
And pulls my cheeks!

Making me look prim,
Like a four year old groom;
I run away,
As if afraid of the bride!

Yet again a game begins,
Me hiding,
Eyes searching,
And hands finding!

Gone are the school days,
I still yearn for!
Lazy days, the hide and seek;
All is gone;
But my mom's ever forgiving smile!!

PS: Image with due regards to the respective owner, not under the blogger's copyright.

Across a paddy field

They stand still -
A pack of soldiers,
With green blades!!







PS: Image with due courtesy to the owner, not under the blogger's copy right.

A no-twist-in-tale story

I know,
Here,
The story ends.

The story of self,
Drama of life.
Thespian art,
I play, but not for a living.

I keep waiting,
To take my final bow,
Your august presence,
In a front row seat.

I'll bow,
To none but you.
And till you are here,
The curtain will not fall.

Isn't it life,
What we all live for?

Kitchen tales

Vessels are talking,
Sitting in some dark corner,
Cat in my kitchen.

Dead Man's Grave

In the dead man's grave,
Burried were
Some unblossomed flowers,
That never lived, beyond buds.

Sleeping with him,
Were dreams, never realized;
Dreams, he never had a chance
To see in his life time.

Lying as crumbles,
Were words unsaid,
Words of love, words of joy;
Words for a million reasons!

In the dead man's grave -
The treasure trove -
I found everything,
All but vestiges of life!!


--
PS: Image not under blog owner's copyright, with due courtesy to the artist.

Explorers

Army of red ants,
Sailing all the seven seas,
In a green leaf ship.

PS: Image with due courtesy to the artist, not under the copyright of the blog owner

Nature's Dance

Flowers dance,
Rhythm of a wind -
Fragrant thoughts!

Summer

Broken window pane,
Cricket and restless children -
Summer has arrived!



--
PS: Image with due courtesy to the owner, not under the copyright of the blog owner

voice from skies

This aint so strange,
Talking to ghosts.
This aint so wierd,
Soul replying a man!

Words are thrown,
From world to heaven.
And the soul silently waits,
Catching them at the window!

Middle of the night,
Friendly thoughts,
Ghostly feelings,
But I am a brave man!

Talking to my love,
Hidden to the world,
Invisible,
In her chat window!!

--
Jagadeesh
o7/o3/2oo8

--
Jagadeesh
o4/o3/2oo8

PS: Image with due courtesy to the artist.

spring, summer, autmn, winter

Fragrant words,
Of a divine love,
Now I know,
The season is spring!

Love - it grows,
Passions wild
With the torrid feel,
Summer comes!

Tears they fall,
Like the autmn leaves,
In joy, in smiles,
In pain, in sorries!

All that I pray
To the God, up above,
Never come the winter may,
Leaving me cold!!

--
Jagadeesh
o4/o3/2oo8

PS: Image with due courtesy to the artist.

little star

Star,
In my blue sky;
What my dear,
Are you scared of!

Come my dear,
Hop off the bed;
Night has come,
So has the moon!

The blue quilt,
You slept under;
Did you not know,
Has now turned black!

Come my dear,
Come by my window;
Grant me a smile,
And shine on my face!


PS: Image not under copyright. With due regards to the artist.

metamorphosis

Vitreous,
The glass breaks; And it
lies - opaque.



PS: Image with due credits to the artist.

carrying

sky won't rain
clouds run around
hopeless!

--
Jagadeesh
28/o2/2oo8


PS: Image with due regards to the owner.

Siachen

White blanket,
That never unveils,
Misty mornings,
That never doffs.

I dont know,
What is more insane,
Forst bitten fingers,
Searching for triggers;
Or, is it the human mind,
Craving for war!

Siachen,
Where a new red rose blossoms,
When a warrior dies,
And the blood is spilled!

--
Jagadeesh
28/o2/2oo8

making love

Intertwined,
Inseperable,
Melting in each other's arms;
We make love!

Torrid feelings,
Passionate whispers,
An eternal rhythm,
Yes, we are making love!

Night and day, we are,
Melting in each others arms,
And a twilight is born,
But red, not a new born's pink!

--
Jagadeesh
27/o2/2oo8

PS: Due credits to the artist for the image.

Mosquitoes

Songs and bites
That drives me crazy
Mosquitoes



--
24/o2/2oo8



PS: Image with due regards to the artist, and not under the copy right of the owner of the blog.

mango showers

The drops on my face
I know the summer showers
Smell of mango blooms.



--
24/o2/2oo8



PS: Image with due regards to the artist, and not under the copy right of the owner of the blog.

snow fall - Haiku

With snow flakes,
I want, in this chill,
Just ice creams!



--
Jagadeesh
21/o8/2oo8



PS: Image with due regards to the artist, and not under the copy right of the owner of the blog.

fist fight - a Haiku

My girl friend has just won,
A boxing competition,
She has just beaten me up

--
21/o2/2oo8

droplet

Drip and drop,
Into shards it breaks;
Water drops.


--
21/o2/2oo8


PS: Image also under the copy right of the blog owner.

beyond childhood

When I grew up,
Men told me,
There is no sky,
But its still blue!

When I became a man,
They told me,
There is no santaclaus,
But still there is Christmas!

Lost with my childhood,
Where the monsters,
Living under my bed;
Still, I do wake;
Sleep-broken, by nightmares

Hurts and pains,
Sugar coated words,
Lies and belies,
All makes us men!

Lost innocence,
I gained manhood!
Lost childhood,
Manhood, regained!!

karma

I can't talk,
My line is dead;
But my line-man's here;
And he needs money.

I won't be heard
Till my phone comes alive,
But my line-man's here;
And he needs bribe.

Granted a hundred,
Wanted a peek,
He,
Into my wallet.

Twenty bucks remained,
And his eyes caught on that.
Mind vascillating
And his fingers, pointing.

Give me my bribe,
Work,
Will be done later.

So payed him the money,
For karma, is what matters,
And results, will come your way;
So, God has said!!

--
11/o2/2oo8

a prayer..

Every day I wake up,
Wishing for a prayer.

Hope dances,
Just like a flame,
In my mind,
Hoping to be heard!

In a world full of believers,
I am a God with no followers.

Agnosts and athiests,
Never they look my way.
All those who wanted a God,
Have one of their own, already!

In no one's sorrow, they cry my name.
Never in a smile, they say my name!
In a world full of believers,
I am a God with no followers.

Born a God,
To whom can I pray?
Born divine,
Who will see me cry!?

--
o7/o2/2oo8

helpless

Behind a window
Caged by iron bars
I stood,
Watching him.

I've seen him,
Every day, and every time,
I stood,
Beside the window.

Wanted to warn
Of a storm coming,
Wanted to shout,
At him, to seek a shelter.

There I stand,
Behind the window,
Helpless,
My words effaced by the wind.

At the blink of an eye,
Came the storm.
The moment I opened,
He was there no more.

Where was my voice,
When I did shout!
Now where are my tears,
When I want to cry!!

Helpless I am,
Its the way life made me,
Helpless,
To even ask for forgiveness!

--
Jagadeesh
o7/o2/2oo8

Note: There was a chap at orkut's Ah Poetry community named Vinay. He wrote poems. This is all I knew about him. I saw the news today at The Hindu, that he committed suicide yest night. Seeing that, a feeling of helplessness runs over. Even though I did not know him beyond his writes, a feeling rises inside me, saying I could have done something to prevent it.

nose dive

A river,
So beautiful,
Luring,
Asking me to dive.

Dive I did,
A nose dive,
Hitting the rock,
My head did get hurt.

River of work,
Is always luring.
But the rock of diatribe,
Can hurt even the diligent!

being close

On your nerves
I'll take a ride.

Laugh at your face,
Till you are hurt.

Then when you shout,
Ill get hurt.

And when I am hurt,
I can, nothing, but smile!

Alas, Ill ride so close
Yet so far,
That your fingers can touch,
But the slaps wont fall!!

this and that..

I run in circles,
In this walk of life
The farther I go,
The closer I reach.
More I think,
Less I know.
And Less I know,
The more I want,
To be with you;
For ever and always!

urges..

Every step at the door,
I rush to see if its you.

Every bell rings,
I hope and pray its you.

My pizza man,
where are you now?
Can you hear,
My hungry soul is calling!?

random thought

When it rains,
When it knocks,
On my window pane.
I better be awake.

When I cry,
When it pains,
I need you here,
To kiss them away.

I'll drench in the rain,
Dancing away,
To the rhythm
Of falling tears..

evening rain

Burnt the sky,
A naughty kid.
In the fire,
Did the sky glow red.

Another came,
Washed away the embers,
They conspired against the fire,
And evening rains, they came!

Ashes, like a black veil
They clung to the sky.
Seared in the fire,
the burning nights!

the world beyond..

The world I know, is new,
Beyond this closed door.
I never want to walk alone,
And be alone in this strange new world.

I want you by my side,
Us, holding hands,
Treading the distance,
To that unknown world.

Feet they step,
Hands they swing,
Words they linger,
To the rhythm, the cadence of our hearts!

Don't be afraid,
I hush in your ears,
You hold me tight,
And we cross the door.

--
28/o1/2oo8

surrealistic

In the light,
The shadow melts;
And in the tears,
Pains, they drain.

Hatred falls,
Off a mountain.
When, love, walks to the edge,
To see who is dead!

Into death,
Life flows,
Had lost brakes, Life,
To stop at its death.

All's ephemeral,
Like thoughts they fade,
As a vanishing bubble,
Dying without a trace!

--
16/o1/2oo8

soliloquy

When morning came,
Rose a clock,
To no one's call,
And it started to talk!

In its own words,
It spoke a lot-
Of time and tide,
And the morning sun!

Then it cried,
Like a soul,
Who lost its grave,
To a man, not yet dead!

When cried, my clock,
Its alarm out,
With shards of broken dreams,
I stabbed it to death!!

--
26/o1/2oo8

hands of time

There has been a time,
When I wished for a hand,
Just to hold on to.

Then comes the time,
When just two,
Were not enough!

Now I fear, of a time,
When I'll get to know,
These hands,
Were searching in the dark!

--
16/o1/2oo8

why do we wait?

I wait, for a fork,
When I can eat with my fingers.
She waits, for a rose,
When she knows I love her, already.
We wait, for the best moment,
When each moment we live through is one!

Each time we wait,
Each second spent
Life runs to the finishing line,
One step more..

--
11/o1/2oo8


PS: Image with due regards to the artist, and not under the copy right of the owner of the blog.

With due CREDIT

"Good morning sir. I am calling on behalf of XYZ bank and our bank is offering you a life time free gold/platinum (and any other metal that mankind has not found yet) credit card."

Beyond the annoying nature of the call lies the naivete of gullible victims who go by those words, amongst whom I happen to be one.

Long back I happened to take a H..C (to put in expletives, from which I cant refrain myself, ".." sounds like bee in the a$$) credit-card. With most of the online transactions facilitated only through credit- and never debit-cards, possessing such a card became one of a basic necessity. Being a well known brand, I thought I could rely on their service.

I have never seen a bank who never wants interest. Strangely, this bank - if I procrastinate my payments for personal reasons, limpid to my mind that this will invoke some extra charges and penalties, will keep calling me day and night asking me to pay for it. And if I don't pay, oops, the service is barred. Great. Now I wont or may be I can't spend more with that card. Everything has a positive side, so does this I guess.

Now, the life time free credit card has annual charges. I guess its free only to re-activate the card during one's next life. God knows, what the pith of their slogan was. Anyways now I get charged every year. And they invent an ingenious device which generates some keys to log-in to the online transaction summary. They have couriered the gadget almost two years back, and is still on its way. Poor bank administrators, their impromptu service being denigrated by a slow courier system. (As per the bank's claim, if I recuperate right, the package is walking down from their office in Antarctica, where it is being manufactured. And an ingenuous and naive person like me is not supposed to worry about things beyond the ken of our knowledge).

Finally, satiated with an at par service of the bank, I decided that the card service they offer is invaluable and so shouldn't be wasted on prude denizens like me, especially since they are offering it so free of charge. Hence I decided to revoke the card facility. I go to the bank. Cancelling a card is easy, cut the card into two pieces, deposit in their ATM. But me being a liar and bank being extremely trustworthy, what is the guarantee that I'll not use the card which I don't have, and the bank will have to charge me for on a card I ripped apart eons back, with the amount, its interest, penalty, interest on penalty, and all such appurtenances.

I guess the only way out, is bank declaring me pauper, taking away all I've earned through my life, and grant me a moratorium, and let me live by the road side, beseeching pennies, to meet odds and ends. And when I become a mendicant, I'll hang a board on my neck, "Credit card accepted".

migratory beings

Like a man,
Over the hill top,
I watch the birds,
Flying in zillions.

I watch them flow,
From here to there,
Then they disappear
Way beyond my horizon.

Sitting at the table,
Watching migrating men,
Trying to catch a table,
Just by that beautiful girl.

Some tumble,
Yet some more scuffle,
But this can never remain-
Seasonal..!

droplets

All the night,
I listen to the drops,
Of water hitting the ground,
And breaking, into shards.

Falls at the same spot,
Every time,
Makes the same rhythm,
Each time.

Just like tears, always,
The feelings remains same.
Just like my tears,
Their taste will never change.

a random thought

On the river bed,
Did lie a stone.
Tickled by the rivulet,
It did giggle.
Tickled again,
It laughed and then roared.
In its laugh,
Tides rose up,
Flooding the banks,
And taking away lives.

Hiding the smile,
Behind an invisible hand,
Tides all came down
No more were floods..

Go to the river,
Sit by its side,
You still can hear
The giggling of the stone..

--
Jagadeesh
o3/o1/2oo7

a simple life

"Will be late, you two go to sleep"
Says my wife, closing the door..
Missing her mother, on my lap,
The baby lies, and she cries.

Strikes twelve, in the middle of the night,
Some grandpa clock, up in a corner.
Heard a click, and some chairs falling,
Finally, my wife is back.

Shakes me up, and wakes me up,
And shouts at me, "where is that whiskey bottle"
A chill just runs, down my spine.
Knowing that it slipped and fell from my hands

All the screams and all the shouts
All I did wish, was, if I could drink.
Thrown to a corner, I try to find some peace,
But all I could hear was a baby crying..

waiting for sleep

Lying on her bed, waiting for sleep,
Staring at the ceiling, masticating the memories,
Words and tears, images and smiles,
They swirl down her memory,
Like faces of yesterdays..

Breaks apart, she, into laughter,
Unsettled, it reverberates
The walls are quivering, floor is shaking,
Laughter goes on, like it never will end..

Morning comes, but denies, she, to wakes up,
Birds are singing their share of dirge.
Smiling at life, she been,
Entering her funeral pyre..

When flames die, and embers stopped glowing,
Ashes rise, in a new born wind,
Like a fit of laughter, it swirls,
Unsettled, as if waiting for sleep..

--
Jagadeesh
o2/o1/2oo8