DAVE

Dave looks flurried,
and worried.
his wrinkle lines,
assembling railway tracks,
rows of them,
haphazardly placed-
he plays with his hat,
cracks his knuckles,
finally decides to confront,
Jezebel.
Jezebel flutters coyishly,
'pick me up' , she purrs.
with a heroic effort,
Dave picks up Jezebel,
breaks her into two,
and throws her in the dustbin.
he sighs with relief.
the smell of nicotine remains on his fingers...

Sometimes

sometimes I feel I'm ready to write,
so I sit down , paper in hand,
try as I might, I'm unable to do so,
so I shift my position,plonk more cushions,
make myself a cuppa coffee.
I try to think of things to say,
envision the green birds twittering around,
take myself to the sunny south,
scribbles and dabbles-
false starts-
its all in vain,
and so I give up.
Yet, sometimes I am in the middle,
of a shopping spree,
or engrossed in my work,
when words pour out,
like molten lava,
delicious like the sprinkles on the birthday cake.
I rummage for a paper,
alas! the words slip away.
Elusive! this word play,
like the mist on the ethereal hill,
always there somewhere,
but always out of my grasp.

memories

The shore is full of sand...
and memories.
The sea gulls have gone,
with the light.
There's the table,
I can hear the laughter,
echoeing in my mind's eye.
a small crack in the stillness,
then it fades.

mother's wisdom to a homesick boy

Yet I smile...
despite life waggling ,
a finger into my face.
I remember my mother's wisdom,
"The rest will be easy,
if you manage the initial rounds".
Sometimes I bunch up,
not having sensed,
the feeling of isolation.
being an only child,
mama's boy,
foreign land,
demands a lot from you,
churns your emotions,
in a blender,
and hands to you a concoction .
I'm bargaining for my life,
remembering the colors of my town.
how much does it demand,
what have I to lose?
homesickness close to insanity,
yet I plod on,
the initial round must be won.

grapefruit galore

grapefruit galore,
whips the fragrance of the citrus,
into the warm dusky air,
marbles of yellow perfection,
I count them,
daring to peep through the leaves.
you smile at me,
in utmost innocence,
the only reason you do,
under the shadow,
of the tree,
is that you have sighted the cat,
and I have not,
so that I suddenly yell.
the cat scrapes and leaves,
momentary relapse,
giggles and hysteria.
For a moment the fruit is forgotten,
in the red dusty afternoon,
we laugh- you and me.

RAIN

rain-
waxes,
traces,
delights.
freely falls,
floats and moves,
intoxicates.
rain with wind-
flies to the bower,
breath of the flower,
colors and hues,
mingles into a song.
sheets of glass,
a moment so plain,
yet-
manages,
to water ,
the optimism in my soul.

THE SCENT.

Time and again,
I’ve sensed your scent.
Pierce and curl,
Reaching out.
To touch moments,
To blunt the edge.
Flowing, becoming,
A heady smell.
Latching a trail,
That leads me home.

like it happens in movies...

Scene 1: A BUSY RAILWAY STATION.
An elderly lady ,about to board a train realises that her purse is missing. She is also ravenous. Calculating the amount of time that is left in her hands before her train arrives, she clutches at the coins she finds in her other bag and rushes to the cafeteria. She orders a quick meal of rice and dal(the cheapest) and has only gone to wash her hands when she discovers on returning that someone else is eating her food. Angry and upset ( she is a strict Hindu and the other person is from another religion) , she calls him all kinds of names but because she is so hungry and there is no other money with her, she grabs the plate from him and finishes the food, religion and caste forgotten at a time of dire need. The man looks at her,stunned. After finishing her food, she gets up to gather her luggage and rush for the train when she realizes that her luggage and her plate of untouched food is lying diametrically opposite from the table she is in.

Scene 2: ANOTHER BUSY RAILWAY STATION.
Two cousins,bleary eyed are rushing to catch the morning train and give a sigh of relief when they finally enter their designated air conditioned compartment. To their irritation, they realize that other people are already occupying their berths. After arguing heatedly and rechecking their tickets, they wait for the ticket collector to make the final decision. All four have valid tickets. Tired and still sleepy, one of them rolls to one berth, tells the previous occupant to please remove his stuff so that she can have a little snooze. The ticket collector ,on entering the compartment is faced with the dilemma of four people instead of two. The two cousins, known for their oratory skills, lashes at the glitches in the railway ticketing system. The officer checks the reservation chart, says that he has solved the problem and tells the cousins that they are in the wrong compartment. Their compartment is the last one on the train. "On arriving at the next railway station, please get off the train and keep walking till you reach the last compartment . " " What is the name of the compartment?" they want to know.
"General compartment (the cheapest accommodation with seats made of pressed wood ,with no cushions. Although entry to the compartment is guaranteed, a sitting seat is not guaranteed.Very crowded) and to put things right, you are holding yesterday's ticket".

The first scene is from a Bollywood movie called 'Dus Kahaniya' (ten stories) and the second one is from a "Folly"wood event which happened to family members just 'like it happens in movies'.

the dandelions

Do dandelions ,
Reflect?
At the sight,
Of life?
Across the field-
Rocks, mud and water,
Turn to the wind.
Silent-
In the depth of their being ,
There is no life.
The dandelions simply dance,
it knows life.
--------------------

The pukekoe.

In the creek, I espy a beautiful bird,
Red beak and stringy legs.
A small dollop for a head,
And a curiously long neck,
Playing peek-a-boo-
My friends are you?
Some say it is elusive,
But I think it is shy.
It hides and flees,
scurrying on its two feet,
And glimpses at you from behind the trees.
Its beauty is a thing to observe,
lending color to the background gray.
purple wings with violet glitter,
A tinge of the peacock and a tinge of the rose,
With a dash coloring life’s myriad canvas,
Oh! peekaboo, the pukekoe.

A Refugee's Pain

Habits die hard.
I draw the curtains-
Thick , floral,
So that light does not seep .
And murmur.
Afraid to talk loudly.
My body is here,
But my soul was shattered,
The day I held,
My neighbor's bloody innards.
Hysterical was not enough,
As into the abyss I was led.
Today I am a refugee,
freed from my past, I walk ,
And talk and enjoy life's peace.
But something in me froze that day.
Does that mean,
I am less of a human,
Or more of a human,

Or only shell shocked?

The beach and the sea

The sea ruffled and creased,
Tiny fluffs of bubbly worth.
Sand collated and basked,
The sun a roaring pit.
Shells clamored not to be taken,
Sea gulls rushed to catch fillet.
Elements of conspiracy,
Curled to weave fantasy.
Beside the quay where it all began,
Beseeching and pleading...
Chaotic fragments.

daksha behn

I remember the fluidity and the grace,
With which you wipe the sweat from your face.
Peeling orange skins to powder,
Cracking open mango stones.
Tossing almonds to street children,
Rolling poppadums in the sun.
No brittleness in your attitude,
Accepting life, quietly sublime.
Watching the shape of the ashoka tree,
Pausing-then you simply carry on.

Two men and a boy in the middle of the night

Today I learned that Kopchey (name changed) is about to be married. A likable person with a love for aesthetics and a green thumb, a veritable paradise in his own backyard is a culmination of zeal, proper planning and hard labour. Enough property, a government job and a hard worker...he will make a good husband and father. Yet as I remembered his past.... a smile escaped my lips. As a young boy, his grandmother, an aunt of mine,would often give him bath in the open, as was and still is the done thing in my village. She noticed that every time she poured water on him, lather would form as if he had already applied soap . She questioned him, sometimes mumbling beneath her breath, until one day she realized that the invisible rat who was accused of eating the cakes of soap was non other than her darling grandson. Somehow I still haven't been able to fathom how the soap worked its way out from the digestive system to the skin. But it truly happened and they say truth is stranger than fiction. In this case,I can vouch for it.
Kopchey was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect soon after the soap episode and the only remedy was to have a pacemaker installed in place of his heart. The surgery was scheduled to be held in one of the premium medical institutions of the country and two of his uncles were given the responsibility of getting his treatment done..The surgery was a complete success and soon he was allowed to leave the hospital. The first night out of the hospital, the two uncles treated Kopchey with care before proceeding to sleep. But sleep was difficult to come by especially as they realized that a clock kept ticking , disturbing the stillness of the night. They looked for the clock everywhere...under the bed, in the bathroom, outside the door but all in vain. This went on for quite sometime until one of them suddenly realized that the clock ticking was coming from Kopchey. It was his pacemaker. They had a guffaw over it and finally having solved the mystery, went off to sleep.
Kopchey is getting married. This is good news. I wonder if Mrs Kopchey will start searching for a clock in the middle of the night? Time will tell.

I have never seen an elephant fly....

Pucha is a charmer. He looked me in the eye and began his song " I have never seen an elephant fly" with his small hands and fingers fluttering in the air for emphasis. Small, testosterone filled( as Mimi likes to put it )and brimming with enthusiasm, Pucha truly makes me want to catch the sunbeam and watch elephants fly. Innocence written all over him, he once told me, " mama, I am shy till I don't meet anyone and when I do meet them, I am shy no more." It sounded a bit like the ' betty bought a bit of butter' part except what he told me made a lot of sense to me. He has a strange way with words. All kids do. They are mavericks and they can leave you spellbound by their view of the world. Another time, he yelped"There are eggs in my leg! Take them off please!" after seeing mosquito bites which actually did look like baby eggs if you looked at them in an artistic way(whatever that means).
His sister, one year older and oh! so much wiser advices him on dealing with life and its complexities. One day, travelling by car, the kids were eating kurkure(a very spicy snack) when they realised that the water had gotten over. Pucha , at that moment could be mistaken for a dog with his tongue hanging out and body rolling in all directions ,flustered and desperately in need of water. His guru turned to him and simply said " Pucha, it is no use sticking out your tongue when you want water and there isn't any. Just concentrate. Sit still. Let your mouth fill with water (saliva)and swallow.The hot feeling will go away. Then you can eat more kurkure". The advice worked like a charm. I sat in the front seat astounded by her logic. Guru has another line these days" I want to tell you something but I don't have all the words to explain it to you!" Did a fly just buzz into my open mouth? All said and done, I have never seen an elephant fly but I have seen mothers being zapped down by their kids' talks.

The battle within

Deep within tranquil waters,
Emotions lurked.
Stoic will over languished heart,
She tried to inhale,
The overtness of life- all in vain.
For though she shed no tear,
Visible composure firm,
From her perfumed attire,
To her coiffured hairdo,
Now and then hope gave up.
Exposed her naked soul,
To the turmoil in her heart,
A battle of wills-
That continues to this day.

Splendor of the moment

I caught the splendor of the moment,
The aroma of rich purple hues.
Listened to the softness of the balmy breeze,
Intoxication of senses to the soul.
I let the warmth invade me,
Caressing my fastidious cells.
The taste of bloom grew in my heart,
Soothing jangled nerves.
The pupa thus born persisted,
Through bouts of pain and sass....
To encompass the beauty fleetingly sensed,
Imagining butterflies swirling by.

The SNT bus

Anything but……
Dull, mute, boring,
The blue SNT bus.
Vending the narrow Himalayan tracks,
Wearily crawling village after village.
‘Namaste Babula’ behind the steering wheel.
Pigs squealing in sacks bought from Singtam Haat,
Along with the monthly ration of rice and wine,
Enough millet for tongba gatherings on cold blue days...
Men and women cheerily talking,
Laughing at life’s anecdotes.
Dismounting at Phudong for hot cups of noodles.

Enthusiastic ,bubbling,
The Mangan SNT bus.

thoughts from the wheelchair

pray, drown the noise,

of the wheels grating,

left leg dangling,

uselessly in the chair.

does it bother you?

you ask the eyes,

watching to hear,

the ugly sentiment-

you hear so often,

from the neighbor’s side.

the stranger smiles.

the echo of that hums,

a tune in the heart-

the noise does not matter,

you smile.

illumination.

And now the shapes,
Of the fuchsia flowers...
Touched by the light,
Feels changed.

In the barn,
A beam does glide...
Falls free and thick,
On the floor.

Shadows gather,
Watching me dream...
Ochre sunsets,
Tinged by the sun.

Bottles reflect,
What the glass can’t see...
Mirror images,
Obscure light.

narrow paths

The simplicity of narrow paths
Alone, when in a storm
Is the trust that blossom
Though fear may crouch around
You can run to tell the living
Tales of strength and parting ground
Perhaps of decay in the woods
Or dreams that seep through upside down
The beauty of narrow paths
Especially when in a fright
Is the end result you would find
Akin to fireplace and home baked bread
Lots of hugs and satisfaction
That you have passed the round.

the tadpole

In the water,
The tadpole swims,
Past the grime,
And the rust.
Fragile skin,
Gives the slip,
To the geese.
Shivers and plays,
Wriggling hard,
To catch the moon,
Or the shadow of it.
To talk it into,
Zooming him,
Away from the slime,
Of the water he is in.

Orewa Beach

The sea gulls rushed to smell the air;
Shells lay cluttered beneath wet rocks.
Stampede of tiny feet on the ocean floor;
Misty horizon, tousled waves, murky waters.
Alone the wanderer perceived;
Much had been sought, nothing gained.
A group of fishing baits upon the rock;
Flippant glances as the sea gulls chant.
Waves rush and recede;
Beauty fills the twilight air.
Mocking the air of democracy;
Nimble heartbeats flip o flop.
Gather around the beaches;
Tormented by life’s hassles.
Let their beauty lap you;
Give you peace, calm.
And a feeling of sustenance;
As you watch the waters roll.
Cannot tell what lies beneath;
It simply does its job.
The shells hiss at you;
And the waves kiss you.
Telling you to relax;
And to simply watch-
The beauty and the flow.

What's in a name?

It is almost broad daylight and the morning mist has cleared the surrounding mountains. The golden sun rays spill warmly into the courtyard where some crows and sparrows peck at the leftover food left from Aqua’s platter. My sister claims that she named Aqua prior to the pop group’s emergence into the music world. Of course, Ganeola has no inkling to Aqua’s famous lineage. He cannot even pronounce the name and hence has modified it to Aku. There’s only one problem with Aku. It stands for uncle. One cannot possibly call a four legged canine uncle? Especially as Akus frequently popped into the house.The dilemma still stands. Aqua alias Aku still gets fed and pampered and at the moment is basking beneath the golden glow of the morning sun.Ganeola-a funny name once again! It means earthworm. He doesn’t care to remember his childhood name and answers only to ganeola. There is nothing wrong with him. He doesn’t even resemble an earthworm. Stout almost to the point of being potbellied, he claims he was so named because of his ability to wriggle out of complicated situations unharmed. The last bit, he says with a sense of pride. After all, how many people can come out of two marriages, a complicated police case unharmed and unscathed? I would call it selfish and deceptive. But some things are better left unsaid in these parts, so he never knows my opinion still date.

teachings of life.

Life has taught me---
That creepers falling,
Flowers breathing,
Eyes shining,
Children returning,
Ideas growing,
Waves breaking,
Caterpillars listening,
Shadows merging,
Changes everything---
Yet changes nothing at all.

the tooth fairy did visit her last night

Children have an amazing ability to believe in dreams and magic. Their world is more exciting than ours especially if they have been given the keys to read and learn about the elven and the fairy worlds. My daughter, for one was very excited. The reason? her first tooth was wobbly.And because she believed that the tooth fairy would visit her to leave her a special present in the form of magic money, she simply could not contain her excitement. Her father had bought a special engraved box for the occasion to place his precious child's first tooth. When I espied the small tooth in the box after the wobbly tooth was finally out of the mouth I started getting emotional. One more milestone reached in her physiological growth. My baby was growing up!!
Come night time and bed time for the kiddies, Guru was clutching her teddy bear and smiling all the while. "Ooh! Mama. I can't sleep. I want the fairy to know that I have been a good girl so she leaves me magic money. With that money, I want to go to the kid bank and deposit money". " How much money do you think will the tooth fairy give you?A guess?" "Mama." she admonished me." One never talks about how much. It is magic".
Later that night, I went on behalf of the tooth fairy. She had given me strict instructions to leave money for her darling angel. Quietly, I stole into her room and stealthily I removed myself afterwards. The next morning, Guru was smiling. The fairy had indeed visited her and left not one envelope but two envelopes of money for her. At first , both my husband and myself looked confused. Then it suddenly dawned on us. He too had woken up at night and thinking I had forgotten, had crept to her room. So after all, the tooth fairy did visit and it had left special instructions to the adult party to do their bit. The money was indeed magic.

of water melons,pumpkins ,strawberries and roses....

The patch lesson was turning out to be a revealing one. I was teaching my two young ones about seeds and germination and fruits. When I asked them as to what would they grow if I gave them a garden patch each to grow their own stuff, Renee said she would love strawberries and roses to grow neatly so that when the time came, she could cut the ripe strawberries, put them in a basket and give it to someone as a present. Jonty wanted to grow pumpkin and watermelon and yellow flowers...simply because he loved the color yellow, loved water melon and he liked the idea of big pumpkins.

THE UNEXPECTED PRESENT

A strange thing happened today.

Come Again...

The telephone rang. It was my Aunty. She sounded quite tired. I asked her the reason why. "Oh!" she said. 'Jack has not been keeping well. I had to take him to the doctor. He was diagnosed with a case of food poisoning. I think it is because of this unpredictable weather" She then went on to describe her anguish and her relief that after two days in the ICU, after having endured iv drips and injections, he had been discharged. In fact , she had just come from the clinic. " The doctor has given specific instructions regarding his diet for one week. I have just paid 1500 dollars for his treatment and now I have to go to buy his special food".She then rambled on about other things but my mind stopped there. Whoa!! Come again!... 1500 dollars for a dog? In some parts of the world, I have seen abject poverty. People don't have enough money to even buy the bare necessities.And yet, in other parts of the same world, even animals fare better. Come Again??

change

When do we change? How do we change? Is it a process? Or an instantaneous thing?When does the student become master?The more I pondered, the more I realized that when the person is ready, then change occurs. It is like the caterpillar butterfly thing. Metamorphosis does take place. Caterpillars do become butterflies.But timing is crucial in its development. For change to occur within us, first and foremost, there should be desire within us to change. The desire, the wanting to change is the time when we are actually ready to shift gear, to change course. After that decision is made , with a little bit of coaxing, right mentoring and attitude...change can occur at any time....sometimes in a twinkling of the eye, or sometimes through trial and error.
The reason I am writing about this is because for quite sometime now, I have been contemplating about one characteristic of mine that I wished to change. The desire was there and a niggling thought at the back of my head that I wanted to change. Today, as I was stepping out in the sunshine, watching the daisies kiss the blue skies with their warmth, it suddenly struck me that I had changed. When, how ...the exact moment eluded me. All I knew was that I had really wished to change and because the intensity of my wishing was so strong, it sort of catapulted my thinking into action. Wow!!! I was seeing the world with new eyes.Bingo! do I make sense? Its something to ruminate on.

The mystery of the red underwear

I studied in an all girls' school where the only people from the other sex included the priest who used to take the morning mass,the pantry boys , Fhantome famous amongst them for causing a commotion one day when he smashed a window pane in a drunken spree, Aatey the baker who was probably the worst baker in the world because his half baked bread could be kneaded during breakfast time to be used as pellets to throw at unsuspecting girls when the nun in charge was not looking. And there were the 2 boys who used to come to collect food for the deaf and dumb students whose school lay adjacent to ours. The girls had nicknamed the guys 'Pokchey' and 'Collars up', the former because he had such chubby cheeks and the latter because his shirt collar was always straightened up perhaps to impress the girls. Therefore, a furore was created when the laundry person brought a pair of red underwear...definitely not a fem ale's with his weekly load of fresh laundered clothes. Ms Irene, the warden in charge for the girls screamed so loudly that Polly, her parrot who always used to perch at her shoulder squawked and flew away. Sr Casilda ran to see what was happening. Somebody else too witnessed the scene. And soon, everyone was talking about the mystery of the red underwear. Nancy Drew and Enid Blyton fans (there were quite alot of them) wanted to investigate. The laundry person was vehemently trying to protect his position saying that not a piece of clothing article had been misplaced. He had brought back all that he had taken.
After alot of sleuthing by the nuns(by now they had started to blush and get hysterical), they found out that the red piece of clothing belonged to a visitor from France whose name was O'Conner. He was visiting his aunt who happened to be a nun in the convent. Unaware of the drama surrounding his meek article of clothing , O'Conner suddenly found that he had become popular. Girls would flash smiles at him, call out hi and enquire if his favourite color was red. They wanted to teach him local vocabulary especially pertaining to the color red.O'Conner returned to France having enjoyed his holidays unaware that he had given us girls something to laugh and to be cheery about. If not anything the range of emotions that flitted through the faces of the nuns and Ms Irene was worth it all. Thank you O'Conner, wherever you are. I still can laugh about it when I remember the incident and I am sure, so do the girls.

brighten the corner where you are

When I was in school, I recall Sr Cecilia Scott teaching us a song called ' brighten the corner where you are' The lyrics of the song went like this;
" Do not wait until some deed of greatness you may do,
do not wait to shed your light afar
but brighten the corner where you are
someone far from harbor you may guide across the pier
brighten the corner where you are."
I remember laughing when the song was taught to us...because it did not have a jazzy beat or tune to it. Rather, one had to stretch the vocal cords and sing from the lungs.I thought it was a two day song. Learn it and then forget it. But how wrong I was. Because this is the song which continues to shape my thoughts and actions.... .
Oh yes! I continue to wait for great things to happen in my life. But I have realised that small things do matter . John Lennon too probably got it right when he said 'LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WHILE YOU ARE BUSY MAKING OTHER PLANS'.Didn't someone say that the journey is as important as the destination?Or something like that? Sr Cecilia Scott.. thank you for teaching us the song.The older I get, the more I marvel at the simple yet poignant message it teaches me...helping someone in need brightens up the corner of the world where you find yourself in. Bringing cheer, a shoulder to cry on are more important than we realize. I am still learning and trying, failing sometimes, stumbling , being callous the other times. But the seed is there. Maybe one day it will bear fruit.

lesson from a walk.

A sense of deja vu touched me as we climbed the hill...scrambling to reach the top, grasping at the tall grass, laughing as we pointed to the bokshi ko kara (witches thorn) and the carpet daisies. The sillouhettes of our family members graced the path we were to take. Amazing, I thought. This could have been anywhere.I remembered the umpteemth number of times I have scampered up and down the himalyan terrain as a child...today felt the same....except that I was going up the hill for a walk with my childhood friend in another country, in another continent,in another era. Did we envision while we were sitting in the classroom all those years back that we would meet like this one day? Not for one moment. It made me realise that time waits for no one and that every moment is a god given chance to enjoy, to cherish, to build beautiful memories because time gone dosen't come back but we can make it worthwhile.