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Goodbye Ganesha

As long stretches of empty cranes stood waiting, for the last of the Ganesha's to bid adieu, I felt my eyes welling up from a sadness that was not mine. How the stories encoded in my genes have a life of their own will forever remain a mystery to me. I do not fight it, I do not disown it, and I am not enslaved by it.  We will live in harmony, until Dussehera .  Then again, the celestial tales from ancient myths will come thundering down upon this ancient land. As electrons entangled through endless time and space, we will spin with abandon, as our creators spin within us.
Recent posts

As I Bandaged Her

A stud of hers had fallen And lost itself in some dark corner Of my other wise very clean room Raj! She screamed There is broken glass in there. She was bleeding A lustrous post office red.  I am sorry baby I am unaware  Of shards of broken glasses Hiding in my dark places And hurting Those who come searching there.  You are my light baby Shine on.

maestitia

She would not love me Ever Like I loved her. There is a difference being a river And a lake. I would flow into her with a rush Often, breaching banks And she would wait for me Behind the stark tapestry Of brown buildings And soot infested skylines Behind the charade of city living And the grey hush From carpeted office floors Behind the ever grinning insta posts  And the harangue of the tweets Like a lake She would wait for me To fill her emptiness In odd seasons Of random loneliness. ----------------- maestitia stands for, among other things,  heartsore in latin. Image courtsey pinterest

O Shattered Name

If I could string together What is now broken and lies uncared I would wipe the dust off our faces And help rediscover the music That we lost Traveling Through the hinterlands of our vast Untamed minds.   The title is in memory of Kim Sowol, Korean Poet

Waiting for Theseus

I was sitting by my window and watching the darkening of the horizon. It was only 5 in the evening, but it looked closer to 7. I could see an ant like hurry among the poor returning home. Those who had cycles leaned into the wind and pedalled faster and those who were plodding home, hastened their steps. There was the smell of sulphur from the lightings and petrichor from the surroundings. Somewhere, it was already raining.  She called me just then. Ever since she decided to get married again, she would call me more often. As if the joy of being a missus was raging a war within her with the golden shackles that it comes with. R2 (she called me that), it’s raining here. I so absolutely love the rains. Imagine, it is raining in midsummer! I am going on a drive with Roohi (her daughter). It will be awesome na? I looked out of the window. The first few drops from large drizzles had started hitting my windowpanes. My weather wane with bells by the window had started ringing in the

The edge of darkness

And as darkness came upon us it were the same colour As our sullen souls. And as we waded Into this ocean of despair We had already lost our oars. Courtsey : The Guardian

Little Lies

The little lies I tell myself To stay afloat amidst the storm and the sea Are like bright lights from lightnings Bolting down on me All this thunder and the waves All this anger and their tales And I float still!