I Like Graphology

I like Graphology because it brings me closet to something that is real.... That is untamed...unformed... Something that requires me to come alive.... I don't like structures... Forms... I find them binding....thus this breaks all these structures.... Breaks any form of I Know.... Yet I accommodate structures.....for their importance seems immense.....but out of necessity not out of acknowledged meant..... I want to be freee....to be to do to make ....to connect... To relate....to create

Roles Camera Action!

Roles Camera Action

Indian! Indian! I see you - 

I don't watch you, but this is how I see you

You are right and that was wrong...

Its on the basis of a white sari and a thong

You show, you glorify, you want me to sympathise

You have me at soft, pity and damp eyes

The evil looks like that, he is loud 

And he is bad, he is ugly and shrewd

A Hero is a Hero and a Villain is a Villain

He cant be some of hell and some of heaven 

I cant flex my thoughts, just like I cant flex my thighs

Which is why movies I love with a box of French fries

When will you, Indian, wake up from this slumber

To see the Shah Rukh in you and also the Gabbar! 

Glass Eyes

Glass Eyes

I asked so I could look deep into his eyes,

To know what he reflects in his skies

I claimed that, I can tell what he is looking for

While he's wondering if it is really what he yearns for

I flaunted that I knew what he thinks of himself

Putting it in twelve words, telling him what he felt

I pull out his talents, laid them on a plate

He was unsure, thought that I just like to inflate

I saw deep into his eyes,to see what else lies

Trust, mistrust, love, fear, lows and highs

I told him how he could find a route around,

From past's grip on him and laws that bound

I thought I reached, I conquered a world,

He brought me back to the place I hold

"I watch with glass eyes, how can they tell

The story of a man for whom my eyes did not melt"

And I began to fold our clothes

.....And I began to fold our clothes

Any morning begins when the alarm rings,I wait another 5 to 10 minutes trying to recollect and complete what i was dreaming of....to complete the story in half consciousness, to make it a Happy ending at least an acceptable one and then leave my bed of possible futures behind me.

This morning I deeply prayed again for a miracle to happen before I entered my setting of the day. the one i had very proudly set as the best way to do more than 15 years back. The familiarity of finding salt where I had meticulously left it last, the 'azaadiyan' playing into and out of the speakers, the tea coming to a boil and I waiting to turn the gas off just before it spills. The clothes thrown in together and then sorted to be washed by me or my machine. The 11 pm bath, at leisure....yet the exact same way as i have been last 15 years. Getting ready, placing my hair where it belongs...pinning it up....and sitting to read the paper. The sections I have chosen to read as always. And then having my lunch in the sweet company of the television.At 3 pm I begin to pick up the dried clothes from the sunny side and to fold them so they neatly go back where they belong till they will be pulled out tomorrow morning at 7 am. Again.

But this morning...this morning a miracle took place...... Amir from Sillicon Valley replied to my 'Hi' with a 'Hello'. I looked up all of the continents ( not my home) a real map...the world map...where Amir was making his morning coffee.... right from Asia to South Africa, to Australia, to North America to South America. That is how long the 'Hello' had travelled to light up my day. I asked him what he did...and he said " I make robots". Was i in  the transformers for real???? Skeptical about what can we talk about then...I plodded some more and asked him which languages he spoke. And he said he was learning persian....wowow...a planet was born in that moment.

I began to   write in Persian script and mailing it to him and he began to translate the exact words of what i had written, I felt like I was writing gold...rather simply copying gold like a 3 year old writing an A…without knowing it.

Every morning I would wake up to listen to the meanings of the Persian I wrote…to bubble out a whole new world, they began to suck me in…my day would pass in the glory of the words flowing in his melodious voice, bringing peace to a wish gone silent. A wish to be alive.  I was beginning to come alive. To be excited and loved, to be heard and to hear something….anything….and I came alive.

I could not find the salt in its place and people of my life wondered why my hair was not pinned. They thought I wasn’t well…. Shaking me up, again and again waking me up to my reality…..where even the language of touch wasn’t spoken. This could not go on….I was tearing to be in the Sillicon world and to give up my reality for it. But reality was tearing to keep me on the hard wooden table that the boiled tea had to be set on. I could not take the pain no more and so …….began to pick up the dried clothes from the sunny side and to fold them so they could neatly go back where they belong till they will be pulled out tomorrow morning at 7 am. Again. 

This was my only route back into my reality…..i began to fold our clothes.

Written as an excerpt from the movie ‘ The bridges of Madison County’. 

Badhne ka bhram

Humein hadd paar karni hai,

Moksh ki hadd, kshamata ki hadd, acche banne hi hadd

Humein baddhane ki hadd paar karni hai

Hum, jhaad, phool, nadion aur titlion se bhi yahi seekhten hai

Aur hum bus, bhadhne ki rat lagayen phirten hain

Humara junoon, waqt, soch, tarkeeb, tatvagyaan

Yehh sab hai humare badhne ka agyan

Badhata sirf phool, ped aur mor nahi,

Bhadhti toh hai rail ki patari bhi

Har safar mein apni neev jamaata,

Kale patharon mein apanaa vajood baanaata

Gatii mein doobi railgadi jab garv se seena taanti,

Rail ki patari, kunthit ho use aadhaar pradaan karti

Ek mathan humaare andheron mein buniyaad banaa raha

Iske patte dekh, main apne badhne ka abhimaan jataa rahaa

Badhnaa, badhaana, toh bus ek dikahavaa hai

Asal mein toh yeh who sangeet boonta hai

Joh, humen pehechanta hi nahi, bus apnihi dhuun banata hai

Anu Rani

Charcoal!! Inspired by Shraddha Panikar