Old Dog

Near my home, there is a tea shop and a Tiffin center. There is a resident dog on the pavement nearby. It’s an old female, without teeth. It keeps shivering when it sleeps. No not shivering, it is like convulsions reverberating through the whole of its body. It never makes any movements other than to look for food in the garbage nearby.

It’s a beige color, its coat. Its tail is always sagging. It looks slovenly, lazy, devoid of all activity. One can either see it sleeping or lying down doing nothing. Dogs have nothing to do anyways. But still this dog seems to be doing nothing at all.

One evening, I had stopped by for coffee at this shop. I got the coffee and turned around to see this dog wagging its tail at me. There was even a smile on its face, alternated by its convulsions. I could see the whole of its gaping mouth without teeth, and my heart was instantly moved. I thought it was hungry and so I decided to do something about it.

I went into the Tiffin center and got a cake for Rs. 2.50, it smelled nice and was very soft too. I had the temptation of eating it myself, but I went back and held it forward for the dog to grab it. Its attitude now was completely changed. It looked at me coolly, sniffed at the cake and stepped back with an insulting look, though looking pathetic with its nodding head and convulsive body.

I thought it was afraid of me and so I laid the cake down and went back to my bike. The dog came back, sniffed at the cake again and you know what, it sauntered away, with a flourish of arrogance and started wagging its tail at someone else. I murmured, “Bitch!”

I was totally stupefied by such behavior. It set me thinking too. I thought may be the dog wanted some scratching behind its ears or a gentle pat. But can it be? May be it had a case of amnesia, where it forgot what it had asked for some time back. Who would know? May be it did not like the cake! Yes, it did not like the cake. It might have even puked after eating that cake from this shop. Who knows! A kid nearby was eating some cream biscuits, and its charms moved the kid too. It was eating a sweet, cream biscuit after 2 minutes. Superciliousness, I can understand, but from a street dog?

Wanderlust!

Wanderlust

“All move away!
Hurry, make way!
Here comes me along
On to where I belong.”

Thirsty was my flittering spirit,
Rising from the trodden past.
In my blood was speed
“Romp ahead, my arrogant steed.
I’ll reach those gardens yonder
Where my heart, alone, wander.”

The Gods rolled me out the mellows
The stars led me out of the shadows.
The light paved the road toward harmony.
The throttle showed me to every possibility.
Free I was to sleep under any bough.
Futile were storms that rent and blew.

Then, the ride a fair maiden partook.
Poetry her fragrance and laughter spoke.
Love my parched lips boldly stole.
Proud, I slid down the mossy stile.

I said I would never compromise
Though living with many a surmise.
Hope was redundant yet pressing.
Faith was alive yet dying.

“I’m not where I am now.
I’m not what I am now.
I’m not where I used to be.
I’m not what I used to be.
I’d wandered unmolested by man.
I’d been a free man.”

A thousand births I have since died.
A thousand deaths to be so reclaimed?
A silent night moonless rendered
Is a man’s loving when smothered.
Have nature and growth ever pondered?
So is love even when wistfully rejected.

To “The Wanderlust” – 2003 – 2005 & “TN 33 S 7403”

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

A Time to Change

Its time for another change now. I am leaving Vijayawada for good, to go to Chennai. A different company, a different city, a different life.

It feels good that I am going to my home state. I have always wanted to work in a metro, for the exposure and the opportunity it offers, if not for the company and entertainment value.

I have sort of found a place to live. I have to get used to traveling 17kms to office everyday, from my 1.5 kms now in Vijayawada. I have to wash my own clothes. I have to be thrifty with water. I have to start saving, this I dun no how! I have to learn a lot.

The past year has taught me a lot. Through all the deprivations and solitarian explorations, I have pondered and drilled deep down into my mind. I am more self-reliant now. I now don’t need anybody for my sake alone. No one needs to support me. I am self-sustainable, though I am still not viable to operate financially!

I have learned a new language, the language of my forefathers. I have learned to live in a different culture and still remain original. I don’t mind wearing an odd red tee shirt, but overall, I am still suave, in sense and form.

Whenever I leave a place forever, I have always felt a pang of sentimental and/or genuine regret. This time, I am only too happy to be going from this place. May be I will miss it later, but now I am happy.

Farewell Vijayawada!

So long, boy you can take my place
Ive got my papers, Ive got my pay
So pack my bags and Ill be on my way
To yellow river

Put my gun down, the war is won
Fill my glass high, the time has come
Im going back to the place that I love
Yellow river

Yellow river
Yellow river is in my mind and in my eyes
Yellow river
Yellow river is in my blood, its the place I love

Got no time for explanations
Got no time to lose
Tomorrow night youll find me sleeping underneath the moon
At yellow river

Cannon fire lingers in my mind
Im so glad that Im still alive
And Ive been gone for such a long time
From yellow river

I remember the nights were cool
I can still see the water pool
And I remember the girl that I knew
From yellow river

Escape

I could go on like this…..
Toward the dawn, toward light,
On my steed black, in flight.
Escape.
The path moulds to my fickle heart’s amour.
My horse asks for distance ever more.
Unwind my destiny, yet wait till faith
Wilts from within my spirit’s flight.
Lend me speed, call I, to the winds.
Drift me on to places, all sorts.

Fallow

~~ Under your feet lies the land, fallow.
Burn those pretences shallow.
Untouched by your hand worthy, shall
These grasses forever wallow?
Under your feet lies the land, fallow.
Burn those pretences shallow. ~~

I am a rock

A winters day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Ive built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Dont talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

???

What a compromise life is. My heart is where it is not supposed to be, where I don’t want it to be. And it refuses to come back to me. It does not seek my comfort anymore.

Why must I experience my suffering? Why can’t I suffer through life without knowing? Why can’t I drag through existing like everything else? Why can’t I surrender forever, this pain for comfort?

To love or not to love?

Why do I come across women, who want to keep you, but not love you? Who are not willing to take the responsibility to say a no when a guy proposes? If the guy is not lovable, then how can he be a friend?

What is the meaning of loving as a friend? What is the meaning of loving as a girl friend? What is the meaning of lets just be friends?

Why are narrow understandings and shallow interpretations sullying such golden terms like friendship and love like this? Why do women want to keep a guy, and yet not love him or be committed to him?

Is it because I am like this, I want things in black and white; or is it because I ask for truth from people who cannot furnish it for themselves or me? Am I being over realistic or am I being a simpleton?

Purple Haze

It had been a long day, with all the top bosses swarming down to Bangalore, to give us the pleasure of their wisdom, though unsolicited. The dealers were there too, and it was old wine in a new bottle.

Effectiveness on the field was perceived to be low, and thus we had to go through another round of cleansing and enlightening about the mysterious new gearbox of our trucks, the E2 series is here to stay, and we were discussing or rather being told of the future of the technology. That no one understands the technology is not a point to ponder without some nausea.

Then the dealers left, and the meeting turned into an internal meeting, what with all that went on and on through the day being repeated in the evening. We were let go at 8 pm, from the Leela Palace, apparently a 7 star hotel. I stole all the nice, black pencils that had been kept for our use. I need not buy pencils for a decade now, at the most conservative estimate of my rate of usage of pencils.

I have a colleague in Hyderabad, Karthik, a Tamilian, who earlier worked for Tata. He is from Bangalore. Both of us decided to go get some beer after all this hulla had gotten over. He suggested the Purple Haze. We landed there.

Once the door opened, I was literally hit by the music, smash across my face. Audioslave! We found a couple of seats at the bar counter and ordered beer. We were the only guys in formals that evening, and everyone gave us a desultory glance for our liberty.

It all started off fine with me. The music was great and the beer was good. The people were young and there was a strange sensation within me. Then I started swinging. My head was darting forward and back. And with a pitcher guzzled and with the music, I finally had got to a high.

Then it was a maelstrom of the nirvana’s, erasmus’ and the what nots. Another pitcher and it was getting late and the tempo changed to some slow music. Altogether that night, I had drunk 2 pitchers and 2 rounds of my favorite scotch, nothing much by my standards. I manage to guzzle more at my place with Jagjith Singh, Farida Khannum and Abida Parveen.

We somehow got to our hotel rooms, and the next day I woke up with pain at the back of my neck. Head banging, something I am not used to. But it was an amazing evening. In a pub after a long time. But I had never been to a theme pub before. I rocked!

Strange(r)

In the dark journey through last night
I had traversed a 1000 miles.
I had come to a different land
From a different land, a stranger
From stranger parts, with strange
Wisdom, with a strange look.
The world is watchin me,
The world is watchin me….
I gaze back, lost, crouched within
I gaze back, lost, crouched within….
I am a stranger, I am a stranger,
They tell me yet again, when
I had just stood tall among men.
A stranger I say is nothing,
A stranger I say is nothing….
What good could you do?
When no one knows you?
What good can happen to you?
When no one knows you?
Oh love, no one knows me here.
They say I am dark within
My deception is glaring thin.
My grave would weep they say
To hold me when I sleep….
For they say, I enjoy my pain
My pain is my design, they accuse.
Oh love, tell them they are wrong….
What good could you do?
When no one knows you?
What good can happen to you?
When no one knows you?
Oh love, no one knows me here.

On a high those times.....

I was on a high those times.
I had a woman by me, and
The world seemed easy.
She did nothing more than
Make me a mirror out of myself.
She did nothing more than
Soothe those anxious worries.
She wasn’t of much help otherwise
Than to lend some light to the nights.
She could care less, than to ask
For an effort out of my laziness.
She did nothing more than
Love me for my sake folks.
She did nothing but let me know
That I was a man in my right.
She did merely inspire my vanity
To become a gentleman.
She did nothing but court my
Conscience with devotion pure.
I was on a high those times.
I had a woman by me, and
The world seemed easy.

Wish you were here....Pink Floyd

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Hope

Dil na ummed tho nahi, naakam hi tho hai,
Lambi hai gham ki shaam, magar shaam hi tho hai,

yeh safar bahut hai katin magar,
Na udhas ho mere humsafar,

yeh sitam ki raat hai dhalne ko,
hai andhera gham ka pighalne ko,
(Jara der ismein lage agar)

Na Udhas ho mere humsafar,

Nahi rehnewaali yeh mushkile,
hai yeh agle mood pe manzile,
(meri baat ka tu yakeen kar)

Na udhas ho mere humsafar,

Kabhi dhood lega ye karwa,
Woh nayi jameen naya aasman,
(Jisse dhoodti hai teri naazaar)

Na udhas ho mere humsafar ...

One Phone Policy

I am going back on my 2 phone policy. I have an office phone and I have a personal phone, to make personal calls.

In February, I could not pay the bill for the Reliance number, because the bill exceeded 6k. I am not able to receive calls in that phone for the past month, and no one has asked why it has been so. Showing that I am talking to people and people are not talking to me.

So from today on, I will stop being a pest, and take care of myself. People who have to talk will talk, wont they?

Eat Well Restaurant, Benz Circle, Vijayawada

I landed in Mumbai on the 1st of may. Was received by Abe Varghese, went to his room, met Saravana Kumar, another classmate of mine. Found 2 other nice roomies of these guys there, Vishal and Akash.

In the afternoon, Abe wanted to buy a Swatch. So we decided to go to a mall called In Orbit Mall, in Malad. In terms of size, the mall was ok ok. But the ambiance created by the people simply dumbfounded me.

This was the first time I had been to the hep Mumbai. Else it would be a short visit to all tourist places. Women and men dressing so well. Such taste, such style, such physical beauty. And the people generally seem to carry off their styles and fashions very well. Wherever I turned, I could see opulence, indulgence. What else would you call having a vending machine coffee for 25 rupees inside the mall, when it is 5 rupees in every railway station?

I got a bit intimidated by all this. We had lunch there at the mall. I got a quarter portion of mutton biryani for 120 rupees, ended up spending a cool 300 rupees for a lunch for 2 people. Things are so costly. Cost of anything that is not at MRP is 3 times more than what you can get in Chennai or Vijayawada, or for that matter even Bangalore.

It beats me why things must be so costly. The land is worth many crores, each shop pays a rent in lakhs or crores. But why? Its better for me to call Eat Well Hotel, near Benz Circle, Vijayawada for my standard menu à 1 chicken b/l curry, 3 rotis and 1 curd rice for exactly 92 rupees with assured excellent, but unscientific CRM. Life is so much easier this way.

Morals

It got really hot in Vijayawada last night. So much that I could not sleep at all the whole night. Sweat was pouring down me by the bucketfuls. I tried taking bath twice during the course of the night, but to no comfortable end. It sweated more.

It was 4.30 am and I could stand it no longer. I decided to go out to have a cup of coffee. You have to wear those bloody helmets at all times you ride a motorcycle here in Andhra. Just the other day I paid a fine of Rs. 100 at 5.30 am in the morning! So I thrust my wet head into the helmet and set out to drink some coffee.

There was a gentle breeze, and I felt revived under its caresses. I decided to hit the highway to Guntur, my favorite road. I kept riding for about 45 min at slow speed, enjoying the cool air. My back was aching from the lack of sleep, but I was not tired. My spirits were high. The headlight beams of the trucks were amusing to see in the slight fog that was enveloping the morning. The sun was just about permeating through the murky indifference of the night that was giving up so easily, as happens at this time of the year.

I decided to stop at a motel, in plain terms nothing more than a dhaba, with some cots and chairs lying dispersed by the side of the highway that was getting busier by the moment. An attendant, who turned cold only when I did not want breakfast, but just coffee, greeted me with a cold nod. I got the coffee, and I went around to another small shop to get some matches.

I was lighting my cigarette when I heard a lady’s voice asking for a cup of tea. I turned around wondering what a woman could be doing at such a place at this time. She was about 35 years of age, slightly plump, with long hair and flowers longer than them. She was wearing a very shiny saree that was but a cheap imitation of silk. Her face was all powdered; she smelled of some inexpensive perfume, her lips were colored by a shade of red that could be termed too bright.

It took some time for me to come to terms with the sight of the woman I was seeing. It took only a moment to distinguish her as someone who sells sex. I instinctively walked toward my bike, as if it could shelter me from my own notions of being near such a lady in a public setting. I felt more secure near the motorcycle.

The cold attendant never turned toward her, and she had to ask for her cup of tea more than 5-6 times, when there was no other customer to be served. The shopkeeper was just ignoring her. She then produced some coins as payment. The former satisfied as to the prudence of giving her some tea, gave it to her in the end.

I noted that there was a downcast countenance about the woman. Her eyes were nearly wet by the time she had got her cup of tea. Her face was distorted by some torment that could be discerned even in the dull setting.

I observed that there was some audio playing on a loudspeaker. It was a local made drama in Telugu, with obscenities, as would no parent warrant their children to be afflicted with. Pointed deliberations about embarrassing things, double meaning phrases. There was general laughter at some of the jokes by the truckers present and having an early breakfast.

Sex was being downgraded, sullied and sold. The person who sells it is never happy. The person who buys it is never satisfied. The onlooker is always disgusted, though one may feel all the sympathy for the woman. What is a primal need for an animal is still a primal need for man. Man has grown no more than a dog in morality, though we can state fancy phrases and concepts as accepting prostitution as a necessary evil for the society. We have grown intelligent.

The society maintains its propriety; the individual need not lose morality. For some actions can be classed as necessarily immoral, but can be ignored to avoid the sex drive of men being turned toward adultery and its complications. Aren’t dogs better in morals? They haven’t claimed to possess morals, have they? Prostitution is only an indicator of one individual’s moral decadence? No.

It is the outcome of a moderation of values that is required to make a system work. It is the systematic and cold-hearted work of ingenuity worth our applause. Give a man some easy thrills and he will never question the system. His unfathomable moral gravity will feed him with opium and put him to a guilty, yet tranquil sleep. The greater cause of a group of people or a family can thus be won too.

Feed a country with cheap liquor and opium, there will be no revolution for a hundred years. Feed a man with some thin layer of accession over his actions, and he will not mind complying with another set of morals questionably not his own. When will we grow up? When will we be perfect?

The Night Spent

Would you care to come?
When I sleep in my home, alone.
There is only deathly silence now
In a mind that was tilled by love’s plough.
I have played the wonderful game
When like the breeze cold you came
To ascend to my summit of caring.
Never even in my dreams daring
Did I ever see my future with you.
Yet this heart listens not to you
Nor it waits for me for direction.
It soars alone to you, void to the discretion
Of my mind that needs only this silence.
The blood of the cold night was spilt
On the carpet of the morning’s warmth felt.
Would you fell this bout of masquerading?
Would you go farther and be my dearest?