Category Archives: My tryst with poetry

When I read Dickinson

The monkey hangs down the creepy long greens

Amidst the sun kissed leaves

Through the spotted rains

Through the blues of the sky

While Emily Dickinson warms my bed

And the speckled dust hugs my window panes

I question life and death and possibility and probability

I think about her life of seclusion; her life of reservation; of death and of disease

Of words and letters;

I hug my knees

And smugly smile

At the similarity and duality of lives across centuries

I could read a poem and relate to the poet

I could live her life through her work

And see her dreams through her eyes

I could live the melancholy of her life

And the rapturous joy in her life

I could live multiple lives

In a lone solitary life

I could live a million lives

In a lone solitary life!



Posted by on September 10, 2012 in My tryst with poetry


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A blank post!

It takes a bucket full of adrenaline and a head full of randomness to sit down and type out a post when you would rather be sitting at Marine Drive,conjuring images of sea horses, dashing against the dome shaped rocks, scattered all around, in order to give an impression of randomness. However for the lack of like minded company, I sit down to write, with nothing particular in mind. For the past half hour, I have been wondering what to do. Whether to read the half a dozen books I purchased out of sheer curiosity and temptation and never got the time to read, or whether to plug in my earphones, lie down on my bed and daydream or rather night dream, if that can be a word at all!

Its 1.28 am and I can hear the distinct sound of raindrops crashing down on the rooftop with ceaseless vehemence. It’s been the same since evening. Water, in all forms, can either anger you or act as a soothing agent; a calming influence, which in all probability, makes you drown in the deluge of thoughts, of past occurrences, of memories- often buried and never shoveled out.

Am I religious? Perhaps not. Am I spiritual? Very much indeed. The how and why of it unearths itself in layers, bit by bit, inch by inch. I have a deep connect with a certain genre of things. I converse with characters in books; for me they are as real as the Supreme Power is. I converse with the choppy waters; in as engaging a manner in which I would perhaps meditate. This deep connect goes way beyond the idolation that one has for forms of stone or clay, without demeaning the respect attached to the same.

To plonk myself in front of an endless body of water is what I wish to do now. To dream and dream as infinitely as the stretch of the sea is how I imagine myself at this point in time. This piece of verse is dedicated to the morbid obsession I have with water, in any form.

“The azure heaven stretches into oblivion
And merges into your being
As seamlessly and as ceaselessly it could
Empowering you with a vengeance of sorts
To swamp the outlines of a human mind
To delineate joys and sorrows alike

You have been blessed by the Almighty
With the power to induce hideous tears and to bring about a surge of joy
To make the human kind dream
To make them soar high into the sky
To make them crash as smithereens on to rough ground

I unburden my heart, full of woes and take shelter in your bosom
Accept me as a lover would
In the throes of unbridled, passionate love
Adopt me as a mother would
As your blood, as your bones

For you shall throttle my spirit
In jilt and desertion
For I shall have nowhere to go
Neither to cry, neither to laugh”


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Snap went the bond that begun in great revelry
With the umbilical cord
The bond that was meant to nurture
To care, to love, to understand

The yesteryears were proof enough
That the bond God forged was beleaguered
Bit by bit, Piece by Piece
Unstrumming the strings of my essence
Untying the proverbial knot

Here I am
A tattered soul, a battered self
Yearning for your love
For you to comprehend your own flesh
To make amends
To extend a hand of friendship and of warmth

Green eyed I turn
At the sight of an outstretched hand
Resentful I alter to
At the mention of an Achates turned maternal string
Envisioning my own self
In the footsteps of the blessed child

No cry as loud
No craving as strong
Lacerated I have been
Bruised I have been
Since the bond went snap
Since the revelry died

A glorious death indeed
A million times over
Washing me away in its shores of fury
The wrath exemplified
The sorrow unimaginable

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Posted by on May 26, 2011 in My tryst with poetry


Frozen in Time

Cycling across and forth the cemented portico
I vividly recollect
Your skinny moth eaten torso
Knees pressed to the ground
Head hung down in prayer

The reed charpoy and the spotless turban
Ceremoniously accosted you
Every single day
As you read out the verses
In silent communion with the Lord

Perplexed and Bemused
I was blissfully unaware
Of your intent and your prayer,
Of the panache
With which you cosseted
The Immortal Being

As I weathered the ravages of expectations
Your pepper grey hair connoted the same with time
Yet you fervently prayed
At dawn and at dusk
And at odd hours of the day

The red handle of my cycle is bent
My roots have turned into wings
My bags are packed
I look up one last time
And there you are

Looking up to the downcast sky above
Knees pressed to the ground
Head hung down in prayer
Hands cupped and eyes closed

Oh dear Lord
The only constant in my life
Overwhelmed with tears
Of long lost memories
Of happier days
I clench my fingers
And shut my eyes

I pray and pray fervently
May you be seated
Whenever I look obliquely
Towards the terrace spotted with the redness of bricks
When the lid of the jar of my childhood memories conks off

And I shall gaily remember
The sights and sounds
Of the evenings spent cycling
Of the untold stories hidden within you
Of the friendship we shared
In thought and in time

Frozen in time you shall always be
Furlongs away
Yet miles away
So close
And yet so far!


Posted by on April 25, 2011 in My tryst with poetry


The cry of a foetus!

Securely I lie huddled in my mother’s womb
Happily I dream
Of the day I will place my tiny feet out
On the face of this earth
Of the verdant green
Of the blazing sun
Of the golden daffodils
Whispering to me

Voices I hear
Shaken I feel
Unspoken words, unfinished tasks
The edge of a steely blade
The rigid contours of the human mind
Scared and Appalled
Is this the world I fathomed?
Is this the world am destined to enter?

Slaughtered and butchered
My tiny face puckers into a coverlet of tears
The innocent me refuses to surrender
To give up
To die
With the last of my effort
I cry out to the unconcerned, cruel world
Let me live
Let me dream
Let me not die

How I wish I were a male
How I wish I could feel the pincers clutching on to my legs
Pulling me out to witness the world of beauty, of glory
Alas! I am a wretched female
A wretched female I wish to be
In my next life
In the nine lives to come

Knives I see
Blades I see
Blood I see
They deem me a stillborn
I deem myself murdered and throttled
I shall come back yet another day
I shall come back through yet another womb

Thou shall see me fight and fight
To make my sex known
To make myself known
To defy all odds
And make you ponder
How I wish I had let her live
How I wish I had let her dream
How I wish I had let her fly


Posted by on April 7, 2011 in My tryst with poetry


Glowing Embers

Is it the end or the beginning of an end?
Aeons ago, our hands clasped
The spring of life dawned
A fire emblazoned to consume us in its all powerful entirety

You made me rediscover myself
I loved with a passion unknown
The heady fervor, the amorous overtures
The joy in those little inane actions
Made in the drunken state of bliss

A constant and not a trance
You made me believe
Eternity would fall short
You made me believe
Wrinkled hands will remain clasped

Huddled, I lie
Besides the fire again
A dream turned to cinders
Scared and scarred for life

An outstretched hand
Pining for another dream to nurture
The glowing embers burn
The fire begs not to be rekindled
No more, never again
Is it the end or the beginning of an end?


Posted by on January 4, 2011 in My tryst with poetry


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The corner of my eye feels damp
A wiry stream of salt finds its way down my flushed contours
Swiftly burgeoning into a deluge
Blessing my parched lips with the brackish, eerily familiar fluid
And I stand still, rooted to the ground
Unable to contain myself
Like a puppet in the hands of fate
Like wet clay in the hands of the Divine!

Solace I find in poetry
The likes of Thoreau & Tennyson make me wanna give life one more shot
The last jump…the last fall
My muscles twitch…my hands tremble
My wobbly legs threaten to give away

But the unflinching alter ego comes alive
Did you just try and walk off the edge like a lemming?
Arent you destined to live beyond a life of quiet desperation?
The world is your oyster
Wait till it comes alive
Hang on for that extra mile

O me, O life!
O Captain, My Captain!!


Posted by on December 29, 2010 in My tryst with poetry

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