Thursday, October 30, 2008


This is a sequel to what, in my opinion, is my most overrated bit of writing. Most people really haven't read this one.

Buried in an infested plot,
I dare to recollect my mind.
Vaguely recalling the myriad thoughts
and feelings I have left behind.

Poison it was that put me to rest,
poison, like a glistening knife.
Poison, that they buried with me lest
I ever come back to life.

Its not unlike a restless sleep,
filled with pointless, restless talks.
Life comes to naught when you're six feet deep
and cozy in your wooden box.

The mud here becons me to stay
as my fellow lodgers rise to the light
Beside my grave they've placed my wedding bouquet.
The rain has washed those flowers white.

As things are, the worms eat up my brain
and maggots empty out my gut.
They pour out from my leathery skin
from where those buggers made the cut.

And as my eardrums decompose,
I try recall that fateful sound
that got me stuck between two worlds
the day they put me underground.

Monday, October 27, 2008

We're Busy Itseems...

This thing started as a bored email to a friend. With a few modifications, its the perfect account of a hapless north Indian stuck in the south... or so itseems...

im jobless so i've kinda been contemplating on life in general... i was thinking about how bangalore has cahnged me in the last year.. i mean it was inevitable that i take in some local culture that becomes an inherent part of me... but it appears i have become more namma bengaluru than i bargained for...

apart from the "maadi", meaning "to do", at the end of every sentence and the "machcha", the kannada equivalent of "saale", that annoys people so, there are other things about me that will allow me to walk into the auditions of any sun tv soap opera and be welcomed with arms wide open.. they will slap me on the back put sandalwood on my pate and offer me "kaaafi" like im one of the family... when frustrated, i find that i've now started saying "APPPAAAAA", meaning father, a lot... and its not just that i say it... i mean anybody can just say it... its my conviction... my dedication to the word.. the particularly explosive PPPPP that truly sets me apart from other north indians that are but hollow substitutes of the true kannada immigrant. i hear cheers around.. almost as much as when rajni saaar does three backflips with one and a half twist from a standing jump and lands with a lit cigarette, a dead bad guy and a thesis on the evolution of the unified field theory (though not always in that order)...

i thought i'd reached the pinnacle of my south indianization... what with the infinite idli breakfasts and dosa dinners... and the uncanny knack of understanding auto drivers (which is a talent im proud to say even most locals lack)... but just yesterday i realized that despite all my achievements, which are no doubt momentus, i havent truly mastered the art... for you see i've missed the one thing that makes bangaloreans, no matter what their background, unique... its this uncanny habit of saying "it seems" after any sentence.. which, as any tru blu namma bengaluru will tell you, is the only way to end a sentence... much humbled after this discovery... i have strived to drive myself, it seems... till i become perfect, itseems... i hope you'll lend adequate support, itseems...

Lost for words...

The above being one of my favourite Floyd songs is now the namesake of something I'd written quite a while ago but never got around to naming.. Its wierd how sometimes you're stuck somewhere on the verge of self awareness, and dont know how or why to take the next step..

I know not why I feel this way.
Cant justify this loss for words.
I bid my time, I know its near.
I shall not speak, but I'll be heard.

You smile to think, It hurts me still.
That blade you left inside of me.
I need to rid myself of you
I shall not speak, but I can see.

My hopes and dreams engulfed in haze,
They reappear, though still obscured.
I totter on the verge of thought.
I shall not speak, that is assured.

I need to feed the beast within.
My urges i must pacify.
The blood crawls out, I orgasm.
I shall not speak, I must not cry.

I rule the world inside my head.
My will is done, though flesh is weak.
and so i carry on this way...
I shall not speak. I shall not speak.