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Onions or Living?

My office boy has a young baby girl who has just begun to take her first few baby steps. On my way out, I see her hanging on to the gates and making baby-like noises. She is an optimist; I have not seen her cry. Yesterday on my way back from the supermarket, I bought half a dozen bananas for her. The mother was surprised, it was unexpected. At the supermarket, I remembered the choices I had as a kid. We were just about “middle-class” but we had enough food to eat. There were baskets of mangoes, litchis and five guava trees. There were biscuits which I and my sister would hog over and sweets during every festival. Today these choices are not available to 80% of Indian poor. The onion sells at INR 75/- a kilo, tomatoes at INR 72/-. Barely edible rice is over INR 30/- A doctor’s visit costs INR 250/-. Last year, over 17000 farmers chose to die rather than plod on until their next crop-loss. Many more will die. The rickshaw-wallahs, pavement dwellers, scavengers, mu

What Do You See In Me?

I have been put through the shredder and my entrails have stained many a heart before. I have been ground fine in time and now get tossed in beautiful looking hourglasses. I have been beaten hollow as a drum, and I am highly strung. The shrillness of my voice; you would not have heard before. I have been battered by the blue waves and have surrendered my pride years ago; I have no rocky edges no wedges and no space for your little hands to hold on to. I sustain no life anymore. Wonder what you see in me! Rajesh

Hand In Hand

The last time I went to a park was with you. I am always surprised by your urgency to hang on to my lanky frame in public places. It is as if you wanted the world to know that you owned me, owned a piece of my soul.  Amidst the buzz of mosquitoes, the wild laughter of young kids and the curious envious stare of their mothers, you chattered on for hours. I do not remember your prompts; I do not remember my responses. I was lost in the glow of your warmth. It was a wonderful dress you were wearing. When the crowds dispersed and the last of the mother’s tore themselves away from us, I could feel you let go. I could feel the distances of the heart setting in. The last act had been played out. It was time for me to go home. You were no longer hanging on.

Men Like Them

I started blogging in 2004 on rediff. I exited because by 2006 or so there were more of aphrodisiac promos than serious blogs on rediff. Lately, they have revamped the looks, but the content remains just as cluttered and stupid. I am pasting below one of my very first blogs in as is where is condition. Much has changed in the years that have passed, my job, the place I live and most of my life; but Sebastine remains my favorite :) ---------------------------------- [16/06/2004 07:42:14] | [rajeshkmr7@rediffmail.com ] Men like them This is my first week into the blog world. Three days since I first posted my poems of love and longing, I have now decided to put up some characters I come across in my life and who are radically different from others . I am a plantation executive and thus unlike others of my ilk, my lot is piled with the bluest or the blue collared workmen. Six estates and six years down the line this job and the interent has together finished off all poetry in me. Consiste

Waiting In The Wings

I have stood here at the wings, watching you play those myriad roles.  You have been in love with the lights, the crowd that cheers have lent you wings; and from these wings, I have seen you fly.  The songs that you sing are from stories that were ours, the smile that you flash is the one you practiced with me for hours; and the moves that you make are the ones you rehearsed with me over the years.  You make a wonderful act. I wish I were a part of the crowd, I wish I were out there cheering with the crowds. I could have moved on when the play was done, I would not have had to wait all this long. Waiting in the wings is lonely. There is so much more to see out there.  Up here, I only have you. And it is a very long way back home. Rajesh

The Sunlight On The Garden

For the winds that will never blow For want of Autumn leaves For Spring that would never come For want of Summer showers For dreams I would never dream For want of simple sleep For places I would never be For want of alternate destinies For a life I will never live For want of alternate choices For memories I have forgotten And memories I could not erase For reasons I would not agree to And for those I could do without For songs I sing and those I don’t For friends I have and those I lost For all the time that was mine And for a time when there will be none. For those who wait for me And for those who miss me from beyond For all that I know And for all that is unknown Rajesh

The Long Walk Home

The trail to my Home passes through a garden stretch. I see the Constant Gardener always at work. He would nip a bud here, there; allow a wild flower to bloom. He would plant a hedge here, drive a wedge there, water some beds here, and leave some beds in gloom. In places, I see patches of dandelions in bloom and areas where the dead flowers have left behind their persistent thorns. There are miles and miles left fallow, for when the time is right, he will make new flowers grow.  It has been years since I started, will be some more until I reach Home. And as the decade turns the corner, I look forward... for there is nothing I see when I look behind. And as I plod on amidst thorns and flowers, with me my world plods on. Rajesh

I Would Walk On Water

Floated into 2011 with Lifehouse. Nothing else but "Storm" could come close to explaining my thoughts on you to myself. Shared here with lyrics for readers to enjoy the power of this number: Storm how long have I been in this storm so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form water's getting harder to tread with these waves crashing over my head if I could just see you everything will be alright if I'd see you the storminess will turn to light and I will walk on water and you will catch me if I fall and I will get lost into your eyes and everything will be alright and everything will be alright I know you didn't bring me out here to drown so why am I 10 feet under and upside down barely surviving has become my purpose cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface if I could just see you everything will be alright if I see you the storminess will turn to light and I will walk on water and you will catch me if I fall and I will get lost into your