Requiem of a Dreamer

Should I come to life today?

Or wait for you to speak

In monosyllables of negligence

No. Not today.

I may as well play the dead

For some more time.

And then you shall pass

Not like the gale

Not the breeze

Only a fleeting thought

From a lonely night

When the candle tired

Of peeping into lives

Through the hollows in the wall

We call windows

Blew out cold.

Let it pass.

This feather of thought

And glide to some place

Where it finds a tomb

Then I shall rise

Enlightened

And Wise

To claim my piece of land.

I shall haunt your joint no more

Or kill to show I care

Or wallow in some forest deep

Greener by my tears.

I shall leave as silently

As I should have come then

“What the Eyes pledge

The Lips cheat” -

will read my requiem.

photo: gettyimages.com

Joker takes it all in 'The Dark Knight'

Though half of the first half was an experience akin to watching some silent classic by Charlo owing to bad sound quality in the theater the man we all went to see allayed our pain and then transformed it slowly into a sort of manic glee as our eyes twinkled at his menace with awe. The Dark Knight is Batman. But the Shining Armour Trophy surely goes to the Joker.

I was half skeptical about Heath Ledger doing justice to the originality and ominous eccentricity that Jack Nicholson brought to the character of Joker. He immortalized it in all its maniacal menace. He made it an emblem of maverick villainy. But Ledger has done more than fine to inspire awe amongst the Caped Crusader's most ardent admirers. He has brought immortality to the deranged depravity on that painted face. Christian Bale is good. Michael Cane is suave. Maggie Gyllenhal is wasted. Morgan Freeman is just fine. Gary Oldman and Aaron Eckhart are superb. Heath Ledger is just magnificent. It is his film.

I don't want this to be a detailed review. I would only ask you all to go watch the movie and discover it for yourselves. No one will rue it, I am sure.

Not a Sob-Jantaa Flick!

My first real outing after a sabbatical forced by an injured leg came after I was cajoled into watching 'Jaane Tu ...Ya Jaane Na' by my friends.

The film is custom-made to suit the tastes of the college-goers and owing to a simple narrative and good, clean renditions of the characters the audience is kept engaged. Same cannot be said about the second half as at places it becomes a tad too monotonous and predictable. The new-comers in Imran Khan and Genelia give off their best and it shows. Imran as Jay Singh Rathore looks fresh and promising as he keeps it straight and simple. Going by the look of things it seems he might well be the new poster-boy of Bollywood. Genelia looks disarmingly naive and innocent in her comeback vehicle into Mumbai filmdom. But for me it was Ratna Pathak Shah, as the mother of Jay ( Imran) who really stole the show. With some very intelligent timing of dialogues she sinks into her role with grace.

It will be better if I say nothing about the music at all. A.R Rahaman or Bappi Lahiri I just cannot digest lyrics as inane as 'Pappu can't Dance'. Spare me.

My take is the film will be a hit going by the swarm of people I was forced to avoid stepping on my healing foot in front of New Empire. And it was lucky that it didn't rain.

Thank God for small mercies.

My Room-mate for Life

Pain shares its room with me.

Dry, desolate and dreary.

Sometimes crying out in unheard wails,

Weeping in tears of moist salinity

I look with innocent wonder at his wet cheeks,

Admiring the defiant ambers of extinguished hope.

There are moments, when some profound deep emotion

Stirs within his bleeding heart.

His eyes show only a thin screen of gathering red.

A shade not as crimson as the dying tide in the lap of the setting sun

But a shade closer to a mountain stream

Bathed in the blood of fallen knights.

Defiant in death. Glorious amidst gore.

A shade which is more an admission than a mystery.

I discover that he feeds nonchalance to fight despair.

Gazing at him in honest awe, I wonder.

Pain shares his room with me.

Dry, desolate and dreary.

Dust gathers on my books and his,

Reminding us both of a prolonged slumber.

Yet, pretense makes us look beyond

Our horizons of comforting agony.

Life escapes in a shameless trickle

Dancing a naked, vulgar dance of crude mockery.

As a victor to a vanquished, as a master to a caged beast.

Me, quiet on my callous couch-

Remain a silent spectator to this torrid tussle.

Ignorant if to enjoy or empathize.

My friend weeps in sincere surprise

Or sense of loss. I wouldn’t know.

Pain shares his room with me.

Dry, desolate and dreary.

I amuse myself with his poems sometimes.

They leave my mind crippled and heart numbed.

I feel a lurking trauma unfathomable in disguise.

Still, at every sunset when I steal glances at him

I see dusk diffusing from his forlorn face to fit the sky.

His features the image of apocalypse.

He frightens me sometimes.

Yet, at times, Silent, Serene and Solemn

He meditates in search of some primitive peace.

I worship his poise at those times.

I admire his creations which speak of him.

Telling a tell of frozen despair.

I feel they are not for love or life.

For love touched him, warped him and left him torn.

A Cosmic joke stares back at me.

I decide to console him not.

Let Pain be Pained.

Let Pain be at Peace.

With an assorted collection of films making way to my home I am assured of some pleasant time-killing amidst my house-arrest.

10 GB of films in totality.

Should be fun.

Then will come blogging.

And regular posts.

Life has never , I repeat, NEVER been so utterly BORING for me.

That 123 tag

Dos:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.

And here it is:

" And it shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faint within us - the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!

There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiar ruddy tweed suit - the very one which he had worn on the first morning that we had seen him in Baker Street. We caught the one clear glimpse of it, and then the match flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone out of our souls."


No points for guessing the book.

P.S- Can anyone be more jobless than this ?

I hope not.

And I tag you. Yes, you who is reading the blog now.

The Part of You That No One Sees

You are powerful, passionate, and dominant. You have a vision of how things should be, and you do your best to make things happen. People rely on you for your strength. You are a rock to many. Underneath it all, you aren't so sure about your passions. So many ideas spark your interest, it is hard for you to get behind a select few. However, you see indecision as a sign of weakness. So you pursue your goals full force - no matter how foolish they turn out to be.

What's the Part of You That No One Sees?

House Arrest Imposed

I have met with an accident.

Nothing serious.

One which occurred while I was riding pillion on Utu's scooter last evening.

One which caused a deep wide gash on my right foot where the axle of the speeding van tore into my flesh.

One which bled so profusely that I wondered if this was sweet revenge for all the 300 ml cold-drink bottles I have so greedily drank from all these days. (It seemed 300 ml was what I lost. The road and my Sandaks were all terrifyingly bloody.)

One which made me feel terribly dizzy for the first time in my life.

One which forced me into the Emergency Ward of a Govt. Hospital.

One which required 3 neat stitches.

One which promises to keep me under house-arrest for the coming 10 days.

One which has curtailed my movements even within the house.

One which is making me feel 'a little important' by the number of anxious phone calls I am attending.

One which drew from my reserves of courage and common-sense I never knew existed. :P

One which tested my endurance in a long long time last night.

One which I hope heals soon.

Had a gala get together at Mannu's place last night. His placement party was all good chicken curry and goppo. 8 of us stayed over for the night. It was all unadulterated adda and fooling around after a long long time for us. We people get to meet only once in a year. And their darned University doesn't him grant them a leave for the Pujas. May their Gods sink in sinks.


Myself, Kaustav, Uttu and Pappu stayed awake till 5 in the morning playing 29. K and me on one side, P and U on the other. And yes, we won by a good yawning margin. :P


Paglaa, Kudo, Sinha and Mannu dozed off blissfully in the other room.

How on earth do they manage to sleep so much ??

I am still wide awake. Even after only 3 hours of sleep in the last 30 hours.

And now, I am off to watch 'Two Brothers'.

Boredom does strange things to you.

I am either glued to the net or watching movies the whole day. Also I am making a list of the ones that I am watching( right at the bottom right ), right from 1st June onwards and making mental notes of the ones I am eager to watch. I am sure it will look substantial before the month is out.

Lack of people posting on their blogs isn't helping things either.

Ode to Those Eyes

As purposeless as my days are

Next only in hollowness

To some distant shrinking star

Whose solace is but loneliness

I boarded bus like everyday

Got greeted by a harrowed mob

A novice could have been at bay

But dodging was my daily job

Making enough room for feet

For humanhood I heaved my sighs

A day’s fortune seemed so complete

As I stumbled on ‘those eyes’.

With lofted arch in eyebrows both

That parted with a loving kiss

Had pride in them you love or loathe

But never something you could miss.

Those eyes as if were etched on stone

Slit at places God had deemed

Perfection would stay forlorn

If otherwise He intervened.

The black in them of sultry nights

That often kills the vital breath

Resplendent with blinding lights

That augurs well for solemn death.

Transfixed, transported to some place

By the invite in those eyes

An inkling of doubt did surface

As is case with well told lies.

What if it was all my mind

Playing little games to see

The beauty that my eyes could find

Was all the beauty left in me?

In this moment of my bliss

Gods need not have ceased to breathe

The bus in tow gave me a miss

I jumped off it all wise and blithe.

Roses

I love to look at roses

The blood-red ones the best.

They caress at my fingers

And stand out from the rest.

The yellow ones much brighter

Than the soothing whites.

As poignancies incarnate

Play succor to dull nights.

My gaze remains enraptured

My mind assail all gloom

When I treat my senses

To blood-reds in the bloom.

Some give in to romance

To few it just unveils

Some tender mysteries hidden.

To me, “It’s Something Else”.

Its fragrance makes for Heaven

Fills my half-drunk mind

Of all that was born lovely

Its name I cannot find.

Its shade a red of passion,

A Carmine left undone.

At places a deep scarlet

Left baking in the Sun.

With invite in each petal

And intrigue in its breast

Too lazy to awaken

Too frail to be at rest.

I know not if its earthy

Or Angels in exile.

I only feel a timid joy

When ‘Roses’ make her smile.

photo: gettyimages.com

Killer You

Hold my hands

Come to me

Sing to me in trance

While candle burns

In thinning light

And magic does its dance

Drown a while

Breathe for life

And see death face to face

Murder me

If eyes could kill

But stay in my embrace.

The violin strings

That filters pain

Tear them down with glee

Wail with pain

Smile that smile

You often smiled at me.

The breeze is strong

The limbs are weak

A dizzy numbness leads

To hollow roads

And empty hearts

The passion in us pleads

A lilt in steps

Hair askew

Kohl smudged in your eyes

In cold of night

We warm our hearts

Make love midst lurking lies.

The Song of the Dead

Vultures.

I see them swooping down on carcasses left behind by men.

Merciless. Irreverent. Hungry.

Dogs fight for stray limbs of half-burnt humans.

Letting go a shrill cry of frenzied thirst

Not a sound.

Not a sound to be heard.

Hawks nibbling at lifeless eyes.

Empty sockets stay gaping blankly at the night.

Stars too afraid to shimmer.

The moon takes refuge somewhere safe

Clouds- a shade of sinister black.

Life weeps somewhere far.

Like a child too afraid to touch the dead

I wait behind the curtain of silence.

Not even a prayer

Not a prayer on my lips.

Not a hope on my mind.

A spectator.

Only a silent spectator.

Helpless.

Still.

Infirm.

Bones rattle out in the open again.

Sooty at being half burnt.

Bury them!

Bury them deep somewhere

I hate the smell of death.

No incense, please

No flowers.

Death is not glorious here.

Death is not a feast.

Children sing at a far off place

I can hear their song.

Or is it some hymn of death.

Are all the dead awake

To see the living fare

A flux of life snuffs out the cold

from the womb of the night

Like that unborn child

in silent despair

It grudges life to death

Somewhere.

Again, I hear whispers.

Soft, soothing like death.

They are here.

Or am I just hearing things.

Oh! I forgot to breathe for a while.

Awe in awe of fear.

Sighs.

That rend the air

Ricochet twice from end to end

In mourning of a great demise.

No lip will ever arc in a smile.

No flutter flap inside my heart.

I died a painless death that time

When I kissed your lips.

When you drew my blood.

In an endless trickle

With greed in your eyes

I saw death in them.

Let the dust-storm lull.

Let it all begin for once.

Let the rot run riot in your veins too.

Let my ghost die in some peace today.

And float somewhere far away.

To a place where I may avenge this day.

Someplace- I may meet you half-way.

photo: gettyimages.com

Aiming for that Straitjacket

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The Movie that I am

What Classic Movie Are You?
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Arriving at the End

A 'Grand Viva' is supposed to span all 42 subjects taught in the past 4 years.
A panel of 4 or more Professors from one's Dept. is supposed to supervise this process of covert humiliation with a considerable amount of pleasure, trying to impress upon you every moment how you have wasted their (and your own of course) 4 long years by just being 'there'.

Our seniors had defined Grand Viva for us in exactly those terms. It is
'The Ultimate Ordeal' known to any final year Engineering student.

Expectedly, I handled the prospect of facing such an 'encounter' with the attitude that characterizes the 'Spirit of Denial'. (One cannot possibly attempt to do anything otherwise due to the sheer bulk of the task. Even the mention of it is pure intimidation)

"Duck at every fiery bouncer and pretend that it never was".

- And it worked.

All questions were negotiated with logically interpreted 'attempts' and as a result there were not invectives or assaults aimed at us but pleasantries which were exchanged while leaving the room.

With that college had come to an end for us. For me.

Four years, which at the start of the 1st semester had looked like a lifetime were now complete. 4 years which were spent in making friends and keeping friendships, meeting people and greeting lessons, clearing stances and fearing supplementaries were now over. Life will never be the same for any of us. Workplace has its own set of values and own pace of proceedings. The easygoing life of college which was only partially disturbed by the advent of the Semesters will forever be missed. Everyone now feels "time just flew". But in retrospect it glided in its own sweet pace, ferrying life, colliding with every little hindrance in the way, disturbed at every little curb where momentum of languor was broken to the need for change and instilling in its own ancient language of silence the lesson of evolution, if only to the observant.


I, characteristically, am not the sort of person who wears his heart on his sleeves. Emoting is not my forte. I believe somethings are just too private. Yet, I cannot help but wonder at how life with all its uncertainties unleashes itself once in a while and everything around you transforms. The people who you grow to be so familiar with and fond of disappear, the backdrop of events shift and again you are just a character, just a number or just a name suspended in the turbulent waters of uncertainty sculpting the face of future. Then again you start afresh, with new tools and zeal. To build a new family of familiars around you and lose yourself in handling present pressures while the contours of the past is slowly washed away into a bleak semblance of forgotten intimacies.

Life will be a prolonged lull for most of us now, before again the spark of vitality enthuses us to action. But then this fallow too is a necessary requisite, I feel. To sit down and ponder once in a while where life's heading is not such a fruitless exercise after all. It won't make philosophers out of us or change the course of our lives or anything. But if it serves the basic purpose of inspiring introspection and answering the 'Why-s' that have till date fashioned our choices it would be a brief session of enlightenment not many would be averse to.



p.s - With an indefinite period of joblessness staring starkly at me at this moment of time I am of the intention of populating my blogspace with more such random posts. I am also deliberating on a different blog for all the poems. A poem a day might just keep the vacuum away.

Who am I

And they tell me I am him :

What Famous Leader Are You?
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Me and 'emaciated'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thats what I call 'e-Humour' !

Children of the sunshine play

In my garden strewn with hay

Trampling all the virgin grass

Unknowingly they make my day.

I, sometimes, extract a glee

From the frolic flowing free

In my heart of hearts to know

That myself they will not see.

Still they guess a vigil wait

Till they walk out tired, late

I see some of them steal a glance

Past my forlorn, rusted gate.

At times when they are at a game

Going through the tried same

I busy myself fending off

The urge to know some of their names.

In my eager hunt for peace

I find a solace in their ease

Of handling little hurts at play

As envy capers accomplice.

This evening at my window seat

Life does seem so incomplete

Not to mingle with the grass

That tickles all those tender feet.

Tea-shop girl

The corner shop that serves us tea

And houses all furore.

From rising price to falling stars

In voices shrill and sore.

A pair of eyes does follow them

Look askance at their din

When closing shop with little hands

And washing strainers clean.

A simple riddle troubles her,

At times does make her smile

How grown up men have silly fights

Knowing all the while

People die and prices rise,

Stars shoot up at night.

Among things does never change

Her books drink in streetlight.