stranded light

Stranded light
Weeping joy
The pain of things that come together

The box that shuts everything inside
I can’t find
I try to catch the music
It slips between my fingers
Caresses but never stops to see
I need it.

The smell of rains
Those old spectacles
Cloudy glass

I take to never give back.

What If

God seems to be an important guy around my part of the galaxy. By important I mean influential much like that politician who everybody hates but is too scared to let him know.
And I make my long rusted brain-acular muscles race and imagine what if he was a real guy.(ardent devotes are requested to tightly shut their eyes before flight 786 of the blasphem airlines takes off).
For starters real people get pulled up-at work, at home, even in non pullable places like public conveniences! ) so let’s begin by pulling him up for a few mistakes here and there, the world wars, the holocaust, nuclear leaks, not to mention the genocides that keep occurring every now and then.
The devotes who have brought upon themselves blindness ,for reasons best known to themselves at the beginning of this journey, might turn this around and say well you can blame poor joe for what darned Hitler did !

Well as someone who has only had the hair raising privilege of knowing that Hitler existed and terminated himself at some point in human history ,I can only say poor joe is not all that poor is he ,or maybe one can consider the option of a pardon if he either agrees that he was a teeny weeny bit less powerful than the Nazis or better still, a fellow (equally powerful) anti Semitic.

And after being assailed with bouts of fright for the words that have just escaped my agnostic keyboard ,the faustian dilemma of to rebel or seek forgiveness is reaching its peak ,causing flight 786 of the blasphem airlines to swivel out of control ,which reminds me the other count on which the oh so mighty can be charged is treason or creatson ,for all the children being born with three heads and four feet after Chernobyl and Hiroshima ..he better have an explanation or else a lot of trouble can be caused by the unsatisfied consumers of “almighty in a box”

But real people (not to forget ) also get chances of setting right their mistakes ,(some passengers may partially open their eyes) so what does one want joe dearest to do ?
For starters George bush be moved to the residential facility of the department of warped people (they call it hell here) , communal ,casteist ,racist bigots may be shipped after him .the environment may be quickly restored to its pristine and un-global warmed glory, most wars and mass scale destruction of countries shall be taken care of by the first move but for whatever is left over ,do that. People (I thought they were important for joe ) be given the right to live with dignity and equality and as when needs arise they shall be effectively communicated .

Oh wait ! its still what if ….damn you joe !

god is an overrated junky

God made heavens and the earth

*cough*

And the priest tells me this world is of no real worth

He makes sense in a convoluted way

………………………………………………

God is an overrated junky

I think

The promise of the heavens gives him a high

And every thing’s a holy mess beneath the vast blue sky

God is an overrated junky

I think

People die unnoticed in my part of the world

And Bush digs in your name his mines of gold

God is an overrated junky

I think

The apathetic stupor never comes to an end

And free market economics continue to squish and rend

God is an overrated junky

I think

Children are born with three heads

In a world where nuclear weapons are considered sacred

God is an overrated junky

I think

Religion they still think makes sense

When brutal discrimination is the only consequence

God is an overrated junky

I think

Shopping stress is important than a dilapidated country

Hail the new messiah –Oprah Winfrey

God is an overrated junky

I think

blogging kicks

Five days ,four posts
not bad ,eh ? :-)

Soliloquy 1

The *bling bling* of breath takingly shot advertisements, Greek god like models ,glossy pages and imposing hoardings have to a large extent been successful in drugging the non consumer part of me .

It ,however, wakes up sometimes and a rant is born .

So Barbie is selling clothes now, another brand added to the gamut of nauseatingly expensive and snooty labels.

When I see my puny three and a half feet tall cousins refusing to wear non branded jeans, it really makes me think back about roughly when it was that this brand obsession came and took over even these unsuspecting kids and worse still their parents.

The largest brand I remember wearing as a child is action shoes ,wanting to know if my experience was only mine I spoke to a couple of other friends who come from similar backgrounds and they too seemed to agree with me about our complete disregard for brands as children .

It infact took me a long time to realize the difference between the idea of expensive and non expensive .my mother tells me that as a four year old I asked her if we were rich enough to afford two eggs . Nowadays kids know, that Levis is a cool jean to have because it costs a lot more money that your regular denim pants. This precocious awareness of class and status and a disgusting sense of superiority that money breeds in the minds of these children is something that I don’t remember being a part of my childhood.

Koyel and I were recently talking about what it means to have a good childhood ,the conversation happened after a visit to BC Roy library ,an old building, walls full of paintings ,exciting books ,wooden chairs and an annual subscription fees of fifty rupees it stands in stark contrast to fashions shows(with their numerous other problems) for kids organized by elite playschools …

Crass display of wealth always manages to put me off and warped schooling and parenting along with all pervasive consumerism has, I feel, everything to do with it

Here is a poem by Gerald Kelly

Ad Nauseum

They don’t shout at you these days

In crowded squares

They don’t hang their wares from aprons

And fight through the crush ton accost you

There is n cackle of hens

No bleating of goats

No clink clink clink

Of money counted.

These days they rent the sides of buildings

And scream at you from posters

The size of skies they make neon signs

To render the moonlight anaemic

And leave their wares

To swim about

The pools of floodlit showrooms

They hold their tongues

Say nothing:

Yet fill your head

Your life

Your city

With the fevered volume of hawking

Modern day money changers

Hustlers

Dealers

Abusers of silence

In god’s green temple:

But who should we look to

In this after messiah age

To make a whip

And turn the tables on them ?

the joy of life

The moist breeze and washed green
The drunken joy
Of my resurrected spirit

Fleeting moments that
Cease but start
Decades of self realization

You never kept me down
You cant
It was always me

I lick with delight
my precious joy
My eyes now dancing with
My own light

In between the cart wheels and somersaults
The moldiness all gone
Ranks no more any part of me .

एक नयी शुरुआत

‘I want to physically hurt you’ is what my best friend told me when I deleted my not so read previous blog .

(this indeed is a new start and meals are to be gleefully had and I know I don’t have to do it ,but thank you mallika for being the bully that you are and making my virtual and non virtual life go round and round .)

what made me delete my previous blog ,I cannot definitely say .i would like to believe though that it was a combination of sudden aversion to self composed intensely emotional poetry (which had stated making frequent appearances on my blog) and anxieties about revealing the under confident and often incompetent writer in me .

the period of contemplation that followed however has made me realize that maybe hitting the delete button wasn’t such a smart thing to do and that there are people(even if there are just two lol!) who care to read my eccentric rants .This is my space in the cyber world and what I shall write from now on will try to steer clear form unimportant concerns like incompetent writing :-)

so cheers to the woman who brings all the joy to this blog and my life

malli I’ll love you always too

thanks :-)

ps and thank you koyel for being the ,consistent blogging support and encouragement system that a lazy bum like me actually does not deserve