Human

You thought, with one blow,

You can take away my innocence.

I thought, with one dream,

I can build my defense.

You thought, with another,

You can take away my dreams,

I thought, that my faith,

Shall mute their dying screams.

You thought, You can stab

At the heart of my faith,

I thought, that in living,

I shall not see its death.

You thought, You can be

As God, as You wanted to,

I thought, I shall forever,

Be more human than You.

Meri twacha (?) se mere umra ka pata hi nahin chalta

I was attending a conference in Chicago last week. My first one too. It was quite an enjoyable and somewhat productive experience. And then there were those rare bloggable moments, here's one of them.

I was in the poster display area, and as usual too much science and too many scientists make me crave coffee (I think that is a universal property of scientists). I kept my badge, which I was really tired of hanging around my neck, in my bag, left my bag in the hall and went to get some coffee. When I returned with the coffee, a guard or whoever it was, who was assigned to stand at the gates of the hall, stopped me. He was an old African American fellow, with small kind eyes, stubby grayish beard, grayish hair, wearing a red jacket. He stooped low near my ear and said very softly but with a slight rebuking tone, "Young lady, where is your badge?". His voice reminded me of old Catholic nuns in my school. I made my best absolutely-apologetic-unmistakably-cute-kitty face (no not the best actually, that I am saving that for when I get caught for drunken driving) and said "Ohh I am sooryyy, I forgot, I left it in my bag :( ". He replied, "A badge is not for keeping in the bag young lady!", the rebuke still palpable in his voice. And then in a yet kinder tone, he went, "Will you promise not to forget it next time, miss". I vigorously shook my head in affirmative with an earnestly-promising-never-to-do-this-again look. He let me go and I went back into the poster display area.

Some half an hour later, my friend and I decided to leave. As we were exiting the hall, I was stopped again by the same guard. I was taken by surprise, when he stopped me again like last time, stooped close to my ears and said with his best (?) i-think-this-is-inappropriate-but-I-gotta-ask look, "Young lady, will you be terribly offended, if I asked you what is your age ?" I greeted this question with the characteristic amusement I usually greet such a question with (I should really really start taking offense at this soon enough), and broke out into a little laughter and said "Oh no, not at all, I am 25!!". And then I heard a little squeal coming from a close by region in space, i had not yet noticed. I looked up to see this guy, also a guard with a red jacket, almost jump up in triumph. He was a frail, delicate fellow, has soft pink lips, very smooth features, his jacket clearly oversize, and his mannerisms clearly effeminate, and I think he was incredibly sweet. He said quite excitedly like a kid, "I told him so, he would not believe, I am a year older than you" (I hadn't asked for that information). The old fella looked despairingly and shook his head in defeat but laughed nevertheless. I was quite amused and said,  "So what is wager ? Can I get a share ?" And we all laughed.

And then the old guy gave me a most indelicate compliment : "Young Lady, I must say, you look quite wonderful for your age"

Yeah :|

:P

Whisper

I wish we,
Me and you,
Would sit up late into the night,
Tell some tales, some stories old,
Whisper in the dark, some secrets true.

I wish we,
Me and you,
Would race up the hill, in frenzied rave,
Would fall panting on the glowing grass,
And watch the heavens blissfully blue.

I wish we,
Me and you,
Would make a snowman, out of the storm,
Catch flakes of wantonly drifting mirth,
In a winter cold, but an ardor new.

I wish we,
Me and you,
Would talk of homes and homelessness,
Would walk on nowhere leading paths,
Would heal some scars, some pains accrued.

But do we,
Me and you,
Exist at all ?  Maybe we do.
Somewhere behind the looking glass,
Where we, you and me, can never be, alas!
But I will have us no closer no far,
I will have you just where you are,
A place where there is no sunbeam, no frost,
A place where I am just the air,
And you are a whisper often lost.

Chemicals in the brain

It was a great morning today, bright, shinny, a bit chilly. You could comfortably bundle up in 2 layers of warm clothing, with your cheeks and nose getting cold, I like that. I was waiting at the bus stop, my mind full of newfangled poetry, about summers and springs and winters, of hope and pain, of songs and dances and then I saw this written in yellow and pink chalk on the side walk, where I was standing

Now your my whole life, now your my whole world. And I just can't believe the way I feel about you girl.
We'll look back someday, at this moment that we're in and I'll look at you and say, "And I thought I loved you then."

For the first time in some centuries, I did NOT think "chemicals in the brain" when I saw the word "love". I thought it was incredibly sweet of the guy to do that. I imagined the flushing cheeks of the girl, and the kiss that would ensue.

However, long way down my thought process, when I ended up having them break-up and also felt disturbingly sad for them, the chemicals did pop back in :P
Fatality is my hallmark.

A song for me ... at last!

Almost a year ago, I had written this. A wish, long cherished but never fulfilled.
But finally, someone did end up writing a song for me. Yeah it is my same mysterious friend (he thinks being mysterious will make him interesting to my female friends and readers)
I shared my little secret on versifying with him. I would like to take credit for making a poet out of him, if it were not in direct contradiction to the same secret I gave him access to. But anyways he ended up writing this song for me.



I made a world of snow , and lightA winter both dark and bright,But when the chill was gone from the night,
I found not my soul in sight  Lonely roads met in a wood, And i saw you, in a fiery mood, But i stayed , to hear your song, Looking back, i am glad i stayed so long.  I listened on , a song , a dance, In the lovely woods beneath the snow, From all that was dead, with a glance,Of her lovely song, she made a poet grow.

  We danced all winter long, With songs the world had forgot, And when the spring did come along,It found , a friend, with smiles a lot   Their paths would diverge , in lovely spring,And life would move into summer bright,But songs that merge, and dances that bring,Joys and smiles will live all year in sight.  And my song is sung, The dance is done, And here, before long, A friend was born  

Some long nights don't mess me up, especially if they are warm, and poetic :) .

@SR : I took the liberty of adding a paragraph from the other poem, because it was nice and it fit into this one well.  

 

circles

Long nights like these, mess me up. Long nights, cold nights, dreamless, locked inside a closed door and shut up window. Long nights mess me up. I want you come knocking on my door. I want you to stand out in the cold and say "I am sorry, I messed up. I know I was wrong, and you were right. I know I should die, and you should live." And I want to shut the door on you then and leave you out in the cold.
But that does not happen. Because you walked away and shut the doors on me. And here I am shutting the doors on myself again and again and again.
I have been wondering, why am I so elated that the winter is here ? No, it is not because snow is beautiful or anything. Snow sucks after some days. Looks like mountains of dog shit, it is difficult to walk, it is messy, it is ugly. But it almost seems to me that I need the winter, the biting cold to tell me that there is still enough life in me to die, and enough deaths to live.
The world is too big for me, so is life, so is everything you left behind when you walked away. I have stopped hating you, and started hating myself now. Because your deceit is my stupidity, your lies are the ugly truths of my life.

Cuentistas

It's time to move on,
For a vagabond I am, and shall be.
So now I embark on a new journey.

This post is to announce a new blog, that I will be writing in, Cuentistas. I am collaborating on this project with a friend (who does not want to reveal his identity at this time). It is going to be a strictly story blog, where both of us would try our amateur hands at story-typing err... writing. This joint exercise is to develop, hone, and evaluate our story writing skills (read, an exercise in mutual self congratulatory narcissism :P). No, seriously, we want to win the Nobel Prize someday, and "Yes, we can!"

Please pay a visit to this new born baby, and leave your comments, criticisms, suggestions anything to help us grow.