poopetry

Mischief and the doggy girl

2005-10-14T00:17:00.000-07:00

Met the doggy girl last evening and it turns out we have more than common sun signs…the list how ever endless and still not completely drawn out. Starts with our recent all time low… we agreed that having loving friends and in her case even a boy friend didn’t really help much … in our weakest hour we had both craved the undivided attention of any one being. We wanted to be asked why?? A million times and refuse to answer and then have this fantasy person cuddle and cajole us and pamper the living day lights out of us… weirdly enough our weakest hour even happened to be the same hour… and she had tried to call me to talk and I had not taken her calls (what with a self imposed hiatus on call receiving.)

And the best or the worst part was that I only realized that I had been driving for 3 hours when I got home.

She hates hyd but literally screeched to make the car halt at paradise to pick up haleem. She has been warned not to speak ill of my city.

She wants me to come over for lunch and breezers over the weekend, I would love; to she has a lovely puppy (copper, Neapolitan mastiff), and a decent kinda dude of a boy friend who she is a refreshingly unattached to, but what if I get too used to her, and then she’ll have to go back to Bangalore.
Not exactly the situation I would like, considering the resident friends have been unavailable leavening me with ample time to meet new folk.

WTF, I am off if not for lunch, to play with Mischief.

Will post pics…and for those of you who don’t know please be checking the ‘flickr’ account and leaving comments… you don’t have to pos pics to open an account...

...

2005-09-18T23:14:00.000-07:00

I thought a lot
And now I know
What I want
Not a person not a place
Just some space, and a little more
I want I know -
To taste some ones teeth
To feel their feet, with my toes…
To be me, for you to see Me
For you to know- why?

There are thing I cant explain and
Other I don’t want to…
Is a little patients,
and freedom…
a few words,
too much to ask for?
Is it really so difficult to let me go?
Is it really so easy to tie me down?

Am I not sprit enough?

2005-04-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

And then I find myself desperate and groping towards options I never thought were mine…
of a higher education they say??
for a higher life,
of a higher plane I feel a traitor…

2005-03-14T21:56:00.000-08:00

The weirdest man in the world
just walked into the room.
But I am not there,
my existence unknown,
my name a mystery;

We smile at each other-

but I am not in the room,
that he just walked into.

A bond forever between,
two strangers-
a smile did forge…

2005-03-03T20:44:00.000-08:00

When rage became her,

Blue frames of fire, held
Memories, of another time.

Orange boxes, held
Heart breaks…the unexplained kind.

Pink clouds, folded
To keep from tarnish
a childhood, almost divine.

Grey smoke, wrapped
The arguments that didn’t mind.
And held up, in light the ones that
Make the Mind.

The Making of the Mind was another thing,
But also the one that made her Rage.

The lack of conviction…
in The Self that hates it the most.
The lack of insight,
to the ones it cares for most…
for, of jealousy that it detests…
has now become a store.
And the hatred, of the self, is when …
Rage becomes her.

Life in the day of…II

2005-02-21T01:31:00.000-08:00

His words echoed in her head…’how common place’ He used to say stuff like that…all the time, stuff that would hurt her...he enjoyed her calm being washed away. It fascinated her how he would return and sometimes, his voice in her mind… echoed in the emptiness. She wondered and thought back on the days that they had been together…

They hadn’t been particularly happy times, it was pleasant to have the evenings booked with some sort of activity ... but that was It, pleasant and cozy!! Not even close to happy!!
She remembered happy…
She was 13, and had just returned from school, her parents were out , but she didn’t mind, she turned on the music and sat near the speaker, her ear pressed to it and her hand feeling the speaker move. She stretched and then turned to lie on her belly …the paper was in place and the pen began to move, her stomach felt cool from the floor through the ground. She never told people this but …even 9 years later, she remembered details of the room, to such an extent that it scared her.
She had dozed off that day, but the words were all there prefect and complete, without so much as a confession of their creators slumber. Each, with a purpose, and with a passion… that was happy!!Her realization, that she was not just any other girl, that she could in fact create such wonder from such a ‘common place’ type thing…had been her victory...her happiness!! She liked ‘Happy’, ‘pleasant’ or even ‘occupied’ was too mediocre … the word rose in her head, in baby pink clouds… smelling of hot coffee on a Sunday morning, and jasmine…pure white and fresh!!

Life in the day of…

2005-02-11T17:30:00.000-08:00

Her fingers had not stopped typing in just over 30 seconds… but she had to stop now …the typographical errors with their bright red marks… were dancing on the screen … begging her attention… so she looked up, corrected the errors, and got back to putting down on paper the words as they formed in her head…
She had said it before...they were not so much a friendly entity, as a demon ... one that had taken up permanent residence in her head… she remembered times when her thoughts were bright colorful, celluloid dreams… all she had to do was give them a little attention, and they would take over her thoughts and it was an escape from reality like none other…
Now it was so different... she had to concentrate on reality to stay away from the words in her head… They were not pictures ... they were smoky gray clouds... Forming the words and then sentences, which she had to obey like commands from a master.
She had never understood her relation ship with the words…but it had been unreal, most unnatural; she was so ‘common place’- in his words. So normal … so middle class... your typical girl next door chubby cheeked charming and all, and yet some where in the early years, she had given her self to the words… not in a resignation but in recognition of their ability to communicate with her.
‘This is your world’ …she felt the words rise in her head… she smiled ... she was watching a woman carrying a baby in one arm and a basket of oranges on her head, she was cursing under her breath, a man positively drunk (at 10 in the morning), was following her…
she wondered who the words had been for…

eL story

2005-02-03T17:50:00.000-08:00

I sat on the railing letting my legs dangle, I wonder what it would be like to be a bird…to have an alternate mode of locomotion; Locomotion…doesn’t that sound like the name of a chocolate. Yeah chocolate would be nice right now… it would be …the heat of my figures melting it and then id have to lick it , the smooth thick sticky sweet liquid ..Id run my tongue, parched and dry from the sultry heat of the day … on my figures, slurp off the sweetness…and realize its just my lotion that mixed with the sweat is tasting really weird…Damn, the power of fantasizing …I swing my legs back on to the ‘safe’ side of the balcony... and continue to dangle them … this proves to be slightly less entertaining than one would imagine…My back is soaked partly with the sweat I had been accumulating ever so carefully between the cotton shirt and my bare back and partly by the rebel raindrops that had strayed away from the beaten track of million others… the puss filled boils of heat are squandering in the comfort of the coolants that spell their ultimate doom…and the light breeze on my back…is disturbed when I jump off the ledge when the ultra shrill door bell rings…She stands at the door looking even more beautiful than the first day I saw her… and that was the day I thought I was too drunk and was hallucinating, cause such beauty could not be!! Today she gave me jelly knees all over again, her hair was wet and the dress she wore clung close to her body…highlighting the fullness of her body…and the tiny droplets of water that were every where all over her… teased me!!I called her in …and as she heard the door shut behind her ...she began to peel off her clothes…in complete silence!! A strip with out a tease I said out loud…she continued…scattering her clothes as she walked into the bathroom ...and stood under the shower… I sat just out side and watched her ...once again the water teased me…and this time she was party to the tease…she was not shrugging them off like she had been the rain water… moments later she stepped out ...wrapped in the brown robe, her hair still wet and wrapped in its own. She walks over to he side of the bed… and sits right at the edge…at it is this moment for which I stay with her…She picks up a frame from the side of her bed and holds it close to her face…and immediately there is such a surge of tears in her eyes that she cries dry eyed for over a minute, before the tears kick in and then put her to bed.It had been my fault…we were going too fast… we had been too open …kissing in public was still not done ...not for us… we were being pelted… stones, beer bottles, snow…and then all I could feel was the tease!!

Roark's poem

2005-01-21T16:40:00.000-08:00

For all the times you forced me to read and I never did,
For the identical bicycles we rode
For the picture of us dancing, as only 7 year olds can, and
for its ability to embarrasses us even today,
For the yellow and red bubble gummer shoes
For the rocks, flowers and animals that distracted us
For their purpose to fulfilled, for their destiny…
For the you and the me
For all that is best about friends…
Ill miss you like I never thought I would!!
Most when I finish a book
when I want to walk
when I see I building,
and love it for all that is wrong…
on my birthday…when your is the only surprise
on your birthday when I finally get it all right,
when I see a frog
every time I blog…
when I succeed and most of all when I fail…
ill miss you like I never thought I would!!

A Shock Wave!! (Kartika's Poem)

2005-01-17T03:15:00.000-08:00

Like a muddy lil puddle,
that as a child I saw,
couldn’t help but Jump…
What I felt was new!!

The Kolor, was, chocolate
The Attitude was, chill
The Rarity was, unseen
The Tact was, missing
The Intensity was, double bass
The Kalm was, within
The Arms wide open, to wrap the world within.

But more than these words will say ,
Is a story,
of a girl I saw , change into a woman, who lives in the skies,
with her feet, in the soil
of a child that will never hide
and will always hold my hand and Jump.

Twilight

2005-01-12T20:27:00.000-08:00

Twilight…she thought, what a beautiful word?? Kind of, painted a picture in her head of an old man, carrying a bag with all his lives earnings in it… ‘proof of a full life’; self- explanatory - that’s what twilight was…yes!! a self explanatory. She found comfort in the word as she did now, sitting beside him, in the twilight!! She smiled to her self… ‘he would never notice’ she figured…but as she looked up, there, were his eyes on her…like the old mans, like he could read her mind...like he knew that she had jus found humor in the word twilight!! How wrong she was.
He smiled …
How he loved to catch her unaware…like this, smiling at her self, at her flow of thoughts. He had once after a similar day with her, found him self awake in bed, all night, trying to figure out how she thought, why she thought…most importantly why she thought… He remembered, that was the day he knew, he would always love her!! He also knew that he had just signed up for a lifetime of pain!!
Today he had been staring at the setting sun, after a heavy and very late lunch …(her idea!!) looking for her favorite color…a purple, she had said, that came along between the orange and pink after the sunset!! He could not for the life of him, find it in the 5 years since she had told him about it!!
He had thought when he thought about her on vacations… away from her…how perfect her name was… ‘Antarikshaa’-space, infinite, all consuming, and yet so cold and indifferent… “Perfect” he thought.
She realized she had been caught, thinking about him, in his company…she cocked up her brows and questioned his look…she and realized he had not been him self today but it was such a beautiful day she didn’t want to mess it up with the conversation she knew was inevitable today… he always had a tendency to be so intense about these minute things in life …about family, community, marriage…it all meant so much to him!! ‘Intensity’- that’s how she classified him, in her head …thats how she had classified him in her head!! Like everything and everyone that came along… this had to be made a neat lil packet and labeled!! Everything had a purpose, his was to be ‘intense’ and to be mesmerized by her, hers was to harbor this knowledge like the other balck and white truths that came along in life day after day after day!!
(And he knew… Words …like Art , where her purpose above all!!)
he was the other was round…a neutral being; She remembered the gray sun-glasses…how well they ‘suited’ him she thought… she had stolen them…called them Sumit-colored-glasses!! When he asked for them back …she cracked the lenses kept a piece for her charm bracelet…and gave them back!!
He always carried the broken glasses!! She always wore the bracelet!!

Now he spoke…soft, clear, crystal…
“did you hear?”
“about?”
“my promotion!!”
“yeah, Radha mentioned…Washington DC , huh??”
“hmm”
He walked away, he had known that she would be indifferent, unperturbed…but this was too much!! He was flooded with rage…

he could feel his pulse race, his stomach plunged into an icy cold…was this fear or was he just so angry that he was consciously taking wrong decisions…he could see that he was…and yet he could see no other way…

now he would have to pay for all this emotion…but this was too much this was Death its self….
and then he saw it … her purple!!
CALM!! It swept over him …he was free…he was with her again!!

He looked back at her she was looking at it too!!
“So?” he asked.
“So?”
“what do we do?”
“lets see, I am stuffed, no dinner for me…lets get a movie”
“doofuss, about my promotion?!?”
“oh well, its nice ...I guess you wanted to go abroad…didn’t you?? And man as special correspondent…white passport and all, if it wasn’t the US id be J”
“well yeah but I don’t want to go with out you!!”
“what utter nonsense?”
Any other being would have been upset but he herd the jest in her voice…the fake English accent; She was so bad with them and yet ...she wouldn’t let go.
He looked at her straight into her eyes… “Remember the first time I kissed you?”
“hmmm…”she mused…
She remembered, it was back in college!! She was working on the art, which with him being the editor had been fun for the first time ever…he understood her themes her ideas, her inspiration hit him too hard for him to ignore it. It was late at night…and the team was at it nerves end…waiting eagerly for the printer to deliver!!
The paper arrived and as was the custom, the HOD was the first to read it!! who, adjusted his glasses, and began to read!!
He looked over at her sitting in the corner of the room her legs folded close to her chest, her hair its usual mess, and her pants frayed…but her face…he missed a heart beat…her nose had been red, all week from a terrible cold … ‘my poor Rudolf’ he’d say every time she sneezed!!
And then as he was staring at her…the room grew silent…he herd…the one word no one expected from the worst HOD in the history of ‘Journalism and Media Studies’ -“brilliant”.
It was ‘their’ victory…it had been anticipated …they were the best and undoubtedly rooted to beauty …only they understood…yet everyone saw…
He was connected to her in that moment…he could understand how she could be so calm, so undisturbed…he pushed his way through the mad crowd of a score of 23 year old, half hugging them and mumbling welcomes, to all those who were thanking him …
He walked up to her, held up her chin and kissed the corner of her mouth, his mouth half open gentle, tender, hungry!!
She responded… he felt for the first time her warmth …something he never knew she had …

“perfect” she said
“was it?”
“oh yes , everything, I had wanted from a first kiss”
“would it be safe then to imply that you love me? At least half as much as I do?”

How she adored this bluntness of his!! His directness, was always the best part of him …the time when he stepped out of the gray and turned white or black…delectable, was her label for it!!

“Does it matter? After so many years?” she said
“Well yes very much!! I’ll leave, in a week and may never return, I need to know that the one woman who will rule my mind and soul for ever at least cares about me, even thought she refuses to marry me!!”
“Well what if I said NO?”
“I’d know your lying!!”
“How??”
“Cause I am the only ‘living person’ whose memorabilia you have on the piece of junk you call a bracelet”

she closed her eyes…
“Are you sure…”

She turned around…the house was bare had been so for 4 months, it had been her surprise, for him, her way of saying all that her being had kept her from saying…
She touched her stomach…last night was the first time she had felt the fetus move, inside her, she smiled…he would have said baby…would have named it by now!!

…The Conversation’ had played in her head for so long now, she couldn’t remember if they had ever managed to share it!! But she was sure he had finally seen …her purple…at twilight!!

3, Sakina Manzil

2005-01-11T21:45:00.000-08:00

synopsis (release) :
the year is 1944, and the Indian struggle for independence is on its last tumultuous leg. The world war is being ravaged by war. All of India is on tenterhooks, in apprehension of an attack from Japan.
And on 14th April 1944, a huge explosion rips Bombay Harbor!
Amidst this in an old apartment building near the docks in 3 sakina Manzil , a love story unfolds…

Content:
The research is through, as it can be ...so much so that the intricate details of how Bombay was and how Mumbai is ...was lost on a Hyderabad audience. Each dialogue after the explosion and before is loaded with significance and reality – a character I attribute to theatre alone. A simple love story acts as history lesson and a peak into a different class of people who lived back then …it is difficult for my generation to imagine anything, but farmers being forced to grow indigo or young men clad in white fighting for freedom at the most the traitor Indian who works for the Brits and hates his own country men (the original Confused Desi). There were people who managed to walk the middle path …take the best of both worlds…the pro-pha table etiquette and theater from the English, and the zest and zeal for life and the country from the eminent freedom struggle.

Humor/players:
Perfect timing and absolutely exquisite performances, by Suruchi Aulakh (Sashi- Ji) and Jamini Pathak (Comrade Sashi also the director of play). Suruchi put up in my opinion a performance second only to Sarita Joshi’s performance in Sakkubai the way Suruchi moves from being an old woman in 1994 to a young girl torn between two men , in 1944, in unbelievable!! In the short span of 2 hrs and 40 (with a break) she is able to establish a character as consistent and real as my mom, who, after the horror she has caused, can only be believed when you have lived with her for 20 years!!

Sets:
This is one of the reasons I miss Mysore… the weekend theatre the theatre fests and man the towns largest auditorium, which played home to three exquisite theatres… a play would actually involve the audience, simply cause you were so near the players… breathing the same breath as them, feeling what they want you to …every word uttered in clarity and precision…( always reminded me of bike engines, and their timing).
If there was one thing wrong in this play, and this, may be only to the critic in me …was the use of mikes…disgusting mikes…total turn off!!
I mean if I wanted to synthetic balring sounds I could have gone to the imax …hai na?!?!

Am glad I saw the poster when I did am even gladder that decided to go instead of ignoring the club activities like I usually do (for my phobia of skin and snobs) !!

2005-01-06T21:29:00.000-08:00

to be lost ,and found
to be together apart
to be inside out
to be me and I ,
and so much more.
Of demands in their eyes,
in the self of adequacies,
tears tumble.

Tears like water -a strength, a force,
season the being and make’em bold

2004-12-30T16:42:00.000-08:00

Like a story that I knew long ago…
You are fading away,
buried in the closet of my mind like a skeleton you will stay.
May be my life is a horror story…
But am not afraid…
and you bought the tickets…
to leave is your prerogative!!

The regret is mine
And I regret…that you held the reins.
And I the dreams,
Never will I say broken
Never will you know, never will you see us again
And that is my Prerogative!

2004-12-28T16:00:00.000-08:00

An ode to my Blog!!
Bleh!!
I write, I read, I think she is neat,
We laugh ,we cry, she sings me a lullaby
More than she will ever know …my friend my instinct,
Of the homeless me she is my home.
My space in space, my virtual shoulder (to cry on)
My bomb shelter, my inspiration…
Keeper of a thousand me
Unquestioned devotion…for no charge or fee!!
My heart, my art, my all…
Yeeeehhhaaaa!!

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If Reality bites, are my dogs not real ? is mom the only reality I feel ?
The bites don’t scar , just hurt in the moment, and taint for life.
If reality bites, then does it explain the pain I feel , when I feel nothing?
When I know its right and no ones else does?
When I see it blurred and all clear?
When thoughts I see like words forming in clouds, in my head?
When disgust I feel, at a theme so mean
-At a heart so clean, a face with stubble and a being so large, with a mind so little!!I guess! Yes!!

If Reality Bites!!

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a butterfly , a paper weight, a champion at solitaire
Loves to bake, stay up late, and gossip about the neighbor’s babe
To take a walk, to share a book …a ear to speak to , a shoulder to cry on .
cash crunch to easy, no liquor too cheap, why not get a earring together??

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A nose ring, a pony tail , and a flutter in the stomach
A conversation worth its weight in gold, and another with nothing to hold
Pouring my self into a wine glass, slowly, and steadily,
Not wanting to burst the bubbles, not wanting to make new ones…
The words like rhymes were spoken in riddles, twisted and wound, and yet spoken so clearly!!
A fear, a joy and a desire to feel
Of words not spelt, and much more spelt wrong!
Of raw nerves, exposed wires and bad connections…a story to build
To write it as it is , is to sin, cause nothing is ordinary, and nothing more complex!!

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Glass shelves –
shatter and fall
After they hold it all.

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this is some of the stuff i had written on my old blog...needed to relocate them as that one is to be renovated ... new stuff willhave to wait a while!!

2004-12-27T01:09:00.000-08:00

In hatred of poetry
I try once again
to write down in verse
my hearts discontent.

Incomplete, unfinished insufficient-
Words, for my thoughts I find.
Sadness creeps, as I begin to be defeated,
At a game I thought was mine.
Of words spelt wrong, of thoughts not understood!

Frustration finds a breeding ground
As in hatred of poetry, I try once again,
to write down in verse my hearts discontent.

-and give up
fall deeper in love with prose
where words like my thought flow.
No, more searching for the perfect rhyme
I say what I want,
The way I want it!!