Little Somethings

When the painters and the carpenters came home. They did that and I did this and we all had fun!!

Don’t know when she crept into my home,

they say she comes from thin air and grows aplomb,

She brings with her the unfated apocalypse slow but stout,

destroys homes from inside out .

This time she has chosen my home as ground zero,

her Machiavellian plans chose me as their hero,

She’s big, fat, the deepest black in broad daylight;
she looks beefy from victories in all her fights

Stands tall on heavy four, all bare,
spread wide across the room, leaving no space for air 

200 strings pulled across her chest full of wrath,

if one snaps, it will slash all that lies in its path ,

at lightning speed the string will curl, it will growl,

it will leave none standing - as it recoils.

A million hammers stay put in her gown……………...

Don’t know when she crept into my home,

they say she comes from thin air and grows aplomb………

The old dying man had warned me, that she loves to touch,

feel her meal, before she prepares for lunch.

He spoke of her, she draws us to her teeth, 

perches us on the black stone before she feasts!

I asked him how does she strike her blow,

he paused and whispered “with her presence” before his eyes closed.

Her teeth are impeccably black; the others are a spotless white,

no room for grey- dark or light.

Solomon described her as the ultimate one,

the creator of all and the destructive nun,

But she has only destroyed till date,

created havoc and laid each one on her plate.

But I have the power, the power to think, to plan a crime,

to strategize, to execute in no time.

I am the Son of a Human, the mighty race

we fight till the end, we fight with grace,

I  am powerful , I am relentless, I created deceit, 

I ll fool her in no time, she will retreat!

With my 100^th thrust she will be spread- 

all across the room, but this time she ll be dead.

Cause I have the power, the hammer – to bring her to her knees!

To bring her down! I so I believe! I so believe!

I enter the room with her back facing me,

giving me the advantage to strike before she sees,

The hammer is heavy, just like my breath.

I am going to win this time, and dance over her death.

I hit the first blow on her protective shield,

the slant that protects her vital 86 teeth!

But she does not budge, she has suffered some cuts,

but she does not bleed, she sits put.

That is her weapon I realize,

to sit put till my moral dies.

I then try to shake her so I target her toes –

but she sits put waiting for her time to strike just one blow.

Her  legs are strong and wide apart, 

so I decide to confront her- Aim for her Heart.

Face to face I shall collide with all my Might;

I will put all of myself at stake in this fight,

I plunge to her front and my hammer let out a grunt,

the one he’d let out before his last stunt

I landed on the black block on my feet spread,

to stand taller and swiftly strike her head,

Sending out a loud growl to sum up all the strength in my gutt,

I pull the hammer over my head, ready to cut!

But what I see leaves my wide eyes hooked, 

my hammer lowers itself too to take a good look.

He had never seen an enemy so elegant and fine, 

so dainty and simple, calling him to smile.

I sit on the block that I was standing on, 

so I can closely look at her delicate and pure

She is black – she is white,
her teeth are so smooth - they sit there perched light

To slowly rest on a tooth  I extend the tip of my finger –,

she replies with a  soft sound that warmly lingers

I steadily move my hand, on her teeth, set them in motion, 

she returns sounds, softer than fresh cotton.

I try with both hands , I being to explore, 

 she only replies in sounds lighter than before

I touch the black, I touch the white –

I touch with the tips of my fingers so its light

She returns to me a row of sounds – they call it music ……..

but I know in the heart of my heart, it is the song

that  my heart always sings only when it is alone.

I did not need a hammer to break her down,
all I needed was to touch her, she longed to sing my song

The Piano

My Inner Voice

My excursion with charcoal!!

It took me a very long time to overcome my fear of expectation from myself, of myself. Finally after more than 15 years I attempt this.

Better late than never!

My journey begins........

Chandu Chitrkaar

Chandu ka bus thaa ek pyaar,
ek din woh banega sabse achha chitrakaar,

Apne janamdin par usne ek chitti kholi
aisa laga ki uski kismat khulkar boli

bheja hai maine tujhe, ek sundar frame,
usme bharna woh chitr jisase ho sabse jyaada prem,

Pakit mein bhar kar paint brush ke gucche,
ek kora kagaj aur rangon ko daboche,

chal pada chandu apni cycle par savaar
apna sub se sundar chitra banaane ke liye taiyaar

dekhe usne bade bade jhaad,
unpar fulon ke rang karte sawaar,

kile ka bas tha ek bhura rang,
lekin geherai use khilaati apne sang

Chandu lekin tha santosh nahi,
Socha kyun naa kuch aur hi sahi.

Cham Cham karti cycle uski na ruki,
kuch toh thi har chitra mein kami

rangon mein doobe motor car,
na raas aayee use nadi, pahad ya phoolon ki bahaar

paaye unmein sundarta apaar,
par nahi tha unmein Chandu ka pyaar.

Udaas woh lauta ghar jab hui raat,
saath uske tha woh kora kagaz aur do saaf haath

Apne chehere ko hanthon mein dubaaye
Socha usne, "ki koi dhrishya use kyun nahi raas aayee"

Tab usne apne andar se avaaz suni
ki sabse sundar drishya to usne dekhe abi

woh bade bade jhaad, woh phool, woh phal,
unhone jiyaa tha apna har ek pal

us kile ka bhoora rang, tha hazaron saalon ka bharna,
un pathro ka kadi dhoop ko sahana, phir bhi na tootna ya bikharna.

Bus tab Chandu ka sabse sundar drishya uske ankho mein khila
Chandu aakhir apne chitra se apne angan mein mila

Lambi lakiren, woh peela rang, bhoori katorian aur unke sang
kuch safed gucche, peele mein chupte chupaate, aur kuch bhoora rang

Ho gayi Chandu Chitrakaar ka chitra tayaar
Chandu ke maa ki tasveer, uska ek hi pyaar.

The Others

The one common thing we all want is to be different.

When you meet a guy, you ll hear him say that he loves sports, movies, road trips,etc and when you meet a girl, her hobbies would invariably be painting, being creative, interior designing, fashion designing etc.

And we believe we are different. Most of our conversations about ourselves are animated around how we see things or think of things differently. But no matter how different you get. You will still do something that many others have already done. No matter how much we try, we are same at almost all levels.

But what is so great about being different? The "I am" or "I did it" factor, the " Every body look up to me" factor. The " I will always be remembered as....." factor. The "My contribution" factor. What ever it is, the focus is on being recognized, being seen differently, in the present and future.

Today are you willing to look into your neighbour's eye and openly declare that " I want to look good to you, and I will spend my entire life doing all that is needed to look good to you."

I always believed that if I live the journey right the result will finally be reached. But after 10 years I have realized that, 1. There is no right and no wrong. There are only different ways. 2. I did not aim, so I did not meet the objective. My purpose was my journey and that is exactly where I am and will be at the end of this life. On one of the ways..... with no idea where it leads. Because that is exactly where I want to be.

I have no where to reach. I have just to be.

There

I am never really here, I am always there,

Singing songs of morrow - the music blares,

Yes I love today - the things that make my day,

Yet there's a string that pulls me away.

The butterflies of tomorrow fly by me,

leaving me in sparkles floating free,

Oh the beauty!! the seductive tease,

Of ma ideas performing a striptease.

Taking shape, growing, taking form,

Dancing to its own music, buried for so long,

Opening up with grace, standing tall

Oh what a performance!! Applause Applause Applause

The color red, the strong scent,

the bold use of hands, the enchantment

My eyes, my thoughts, my ears, my nose

Are all absorbed in tomorrow's shows.

The future is more real than the present picture

My present is completely drowned in the perfect future

The moral of this graphic picture..is...

My present is my future

My future is my present.