The Polythene Leaf

Pictures speak a great deal of things that exist and things that may not tomorrow, things that may fade to remain just as pictures. They may tell tales, sorrowful and joyous; of struggles and wars, for winter food and shelter; of every leaf that dries up in a sacrifice to fall exactly when and where it should to make this world serenely picture-perfect. They speak of each tree that hides a mark of violence upon it (for our matches, paper and trinkets) and still, smiles down with its shade. They whisper of the crickets that chirp goodnight to every child in the world without fail, night after night and the breeze which exposes new jewels of sand and stone for man to see and covet. They usher into our imagination the winds of the night that lull the world into a warm, dreamy sleep; the fireflies lighting her path as she helps each new sprout grow in the moonlight and the tender leaves that burn a bright red at her touch; vines that snake their arms onto the snoring trees, lovingly stroking each wise bough and tall grasses nodding in agreement with the sway of the world, or the frogs gawking at their toes.
No wonder each morning we wake up to a foggy sky, each leaf nestling a sparkling dew. A mother’s tears at the beauty of her own child: every blade of grass that’s new.
I find that many such splendid sights pass me by everyday. The serene lichen-patched trees humming in content in a breeze that struggles to maintain its flow through the dense thickets and undergrowth of concrete. A rustle or two here and there announced a bird, a cricket or a laboring insect. At the height of a few hundred meters, a breathtaking view fills my senses with a joy that drains my tiredness away like a magical elixir. It's easy to believe when surrounded by a few trees that there's only a silent, watchful forest and nothing beyond but for the harsh reminders left around by fellowmen. A blue patch here, a white one there and sometimes a used bottle of energy drink- telltale signs of human invasion.
Inevitable, though our venture into the lands around is, the urge to see all, know all and conquer all has always been the rise and the fall of man. It is true that there might not have been cross continental culture today had there not been the spirit of exploration and conquest in men. But to win over a land, and to invade it are two different things. Our ancestors were reverent of nature and treated her as as a mother- a giving hand and a soul that lives around us and through us. Today, Lucifer has subjugated all hearts, and in the darkness whispers for nature’s soul. Hammering axes, screaming saws, toxic factories spewing plastic every second are not the end of it. The pollution meter is running out of control with the charts and readings going berserk in overpopulated cities-and yet, that is at least expected. But who would expect to find, in the middle of a beautiful jungle -that makes you feel like you are living the best fairy tale ever written- a phantom handbag- a polythene leaf- floating like a ghost of a littering past, a horrifying present and a possibly worse future??
The irony of it all is that such incidents are more evident even in the hearts of the biggest cities where they are ignored fiercely. But turning a blind eye becomes nigh impossible when the all green surrounding you is suddenly violated by the harsh contrast of a dirty polythene cover or a plastic cup: an alien in a divine land of waving leaves and twinkling sunlight, of loving caresses from knee high stalks of ribbon-like grass, bespectacled with yellow, pink and purple flowers.
Any writer could romanticize the beauty of nature as I have. But no bard, even, could erase the memory of the harsh realities peering in at the window of our futures. The only solution to the conundrum is to let the animals back into the jungles. It goes a long way in preserving what is and paving the way for more beautiful and glorious tomorrows. I feel the ‘Use Me's' around every corner and the 'Stop Littering!' signs have long been neglected and the slopes I walk up send a note of alarm, as high as they can, and as far wide. The blue of the cliff-side stones seems like frozen tears on the face of the earth.
Heed them; stop littering!

The Fiend That's Time..

If you stand still long enough, you'll hear Time flow past. Ruffling your hair in his silvery hands, as if you were just little child in his path. If you stand still long enough, you'll hear his footsteps echoing off walls, long lain down to decay. If you stand still long enough, Time will stop, hold your hand and watch the world with you; walking past, blind.

- Me :)

The Autobiography Of A Watch

This was a story I wrote when I was very young... Thought I'd share it..Enjoy..!

“It was time”, or rather in human words, I was born on December 3, 19:34, 16 seconds. The great HMT manufacturers made me. They gave me a sleek body of golden color, a brown strap, and golden needles with Roman markings on it. My siblings and I were then immediately sold, to a dealer but since that fateful day, I have been lying here, in this glass box. Many children came and tried me, admired me and at last discarded me. For about 3 months the same had occurred again and again. Being a watch is not all fanfare and fame! There is a lot of competition, always like your shadow! And if you are not sold for 5 months you will be demolished to make a new model. Well, as they say – “Sweet are the fruits of patience”. After long last, a pretty girl chose to buy me. She took me home only for me to find more competition. All around in her room were about 10 to 20 watches! But I was carefully looked after for the first week, when my novelty lasted. Later she began wearing another watch, saying that I ‘bored her’. Later I was pushed away, scratches came all over me and my polished strap lost all shine. But one fine day, again she wore me to a party, but here my worst disaster was yet to fall. My worn out strap slipped out of her hand and I fell into a mug of water. The water entered my system and before I knew it my needles stopped. My mechanical heart also stopped! After that I don’t remember much, but later at the “Time doctor’s” shop I heard him say, “I’m sorry, he’s gone”. The pretty girl was sobbing all over and then I realized I was not in my golden brown body but in an aluminum one! And once again, I realized - it was time!

An ode to those gone and wisdom for those left behind..

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me.
The Carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality
~Emily Dickinson


Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men. ~Herodotus


I knew a man who once said, "death smiles at us all; all a man can do is smile back." ~From the movie Gladiator

For death,
Now I know, is that first breath
Which our souls draw when we enter
Life, which is of all life center.
~Edwin Arnold


Someday I'll be a weather-beaten skull resting on a grass pillow,
Serenaded by a stray bird or two.
Kings and commoners end up the same,
No more enduring than last night's dream.
~Ryokan

If every..

I hear a thousand words,
Sprinkled here and there;
Whispers of humming birds,
And murmurs of the grisly bears.

A shiny tear drop on the window,
Splop! Another on the back of my hand,
When the night is young and the sun is low,
And an eerie mist shrouds my land.

Then I think: if every laugh was a fairy!
Lithe, petite and bright,
Contently sleeping in a lily,
In the softly fading light.

If every smile were an angel!
Flying daintily on wings of pink,
Footsteps like a gently ringing bell,
With a knowing smile and a wink!

Thus, my thoughts travel realms unknown,
New even to me;
I think of the past and the sown,
And the dolefully pay the fee.

For every if every I come across,
A thought is born in the depths of my mind;
A picture, the truth or a toss?
Or just a thought, a worthless find..?

The only if ever I ever loved-
That a thousand words could not describe,
Which no birds or butterflies avowed,
And no grisly bears would part with (even for a bribe!)

Only when the world grew immeasurably huge,
And one felt smaller than ever,
Not even the mind seemed a safe refuge,
Everyone else so much clever'r!

Only then, it was to be found,
A pearl in the yawning chasm;
Silently, beckoning without a sound,
Splop! yet pretty loud in the abysm!

It says: if every sad heart were a rose,
Shedding its petals like tears,
Then in that act, it invariably chose,
To plant a seed at its own feet, my dears!

If every seed grew into a plant,
Tall and stately with ruby pears-
Angels and fairies from some far off land,
Will surely come looking, all-ears..!

And then the humming birds just sing,
And grisly bears turn away, roaring!
They may find elsewhere: eyelashes on which tears cling,
More plants waiting to be born, and petals that needed shedding..!
-ME :)

Just Think..! :)

As I was walking up the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I wish, I wish he'd go away.
~Hugh Mearns

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
~Robert Frost, In the Clearing, 1962

Every survival kit should include a sense of humor.

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking. ~Attributed to Arthur McBride Bloch

The large print giveth, but the small print taketh away. ~Tom Waits, Small Change
(Terms and conditions apply..please read the offer document carefully before you sign..! :D )

I have six locks on my door all in a row. When I go out, I lock every other one. I figure no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three. ~Elayne Boosler

May those who love us love us,
and those who do not love us,
may God turn their hearts,
and if He cannot turn their hearts
may He turn their ankles
that we may know them by their limping.
~Irish Prayer

The chicken came first - God would look silly sitting on an egg. ~Author Unknown
[Finally! A convincing answer..! ]

Who says nothing is impossible. I've been doing nothing for years. ~Author Unknown

"It takes a lot of courage to stop and watch your vision of happiness turn round a corner and disappear.. never to return.. and not be in pursuit but to remember the that happiness dwells within yourself..forever" -ME :)

3 sentence stories -Once in a heartbeat.

“Once in a heartbeat!” the Moon said, “I see the two meet everyday”, to which the said the sparkling Sky, “Watch and you will have to swallow your words, for love is not all good as she is made out to be!”

At the end of the stipulated time, the Sky was heard laughing,” I win, for the fifteenth time, the two have not come even today!” to the Moon who had shrunk so much that she looked like a thin paper arc, wispy and frail; but even as he said it, they saw two dark figures running up to a holly tree, it was them of course, meeting after many days! As the Moon watched with renewed hope that seemed to strengthen her, the Sky darkened, fumed and fumbled for words and the Moon turned to her saying “There you go!” but she only saw a blushing Sky and his flaming bald head sinking beyond the horizon and she smiled bright and silver for all the world to see as she does even today upon lovers beneath her with an otherworldly glee…!

Bangalore Vs Other Metros

A slow darkness was engulfing the sky, reluctantly. The sun was blushing, as if in excuse for the delay. The roguish wind began his nightly haunts of streets, towns and alleyways, reaching down the darkest corners with his icy fingers and a few feathery clouds solemnly watched from the frozen blue carpet of the sky. It would not be long before they were rudely cast away by the drunken wind, shoving in grey smoke from the cities and towns celebrating the night. Very soon, small twinkling lamps appear on the doorsteps of each house on every street with every window holding a delicate Chinese lantern aloft, spilling light like molten gold onto the passers by. The bleak grey road runs by every house, without fail and saw a family, a few friends or perhaps just a mother and her children lighting earthen lamps, and even the dreariest of walls smiling at the warmth. A willowy bough of ivy scaling the mansions nearby was caught elegantly twisting around to watch the glorious blanket of the night softly fall onto the world. A few of her berries dangled by the window, glistening slightly from excitement, looking like small ruby sets she clutched with her slender fingers. Peering in, one saw children gathering around elders, jumping and jostling to get at the fireworks first. Sparkling sticks, crackling wands, flower pots- small, medium and large, spinners, rockets and the ear splitting crackers that fluttered the unsettled wind and threatened to blow out the lamps – but there were just too many of them! After what seemed like too long, everyone came out, armed with lighted incense sticks and pencil flares, and the festivities began. The stars, too, appeared, blinking, astonished at the jewel studded cities below them, and it was not long before some of them had to make way for zooming rockets that set the inky black parchment overhead afire. The sky was soon streaked with bright flashes of red, green and gold and an occasional blue lightened it. Cacophonous sounds were erupting everywhere making the old ones jump, their hands flying to their ears at the slightest provocation. And so, glorious night set off on her journey, a bright, star studded one at that and a rather loud one than usual. It was time for Diwali and Bangalore was all decked up for the occasion. Starting early, so as to enjoy the revelry till the very minute before the infamous Bangalore shut down, a fast paced, modern and easy going spirit of Bangalore was also awakened from one more of its brief slumbers. A number of party-goers rocked the night away at pubs, bars that is, of course, until eleven pm. In parallel, the antithetical soul of Bangalore was home surrounded by friends, family- the earthen lamps, and home-made sweets. Not a single heart was left in the darkness as the orphanages, old age homes, minority hostels were full of new found friends- every twisting ivy prospered at the sight. There were people enjoying Chinese fried rice with roti and palak paneer. Two complete strangers sharing an auto to get home early. A street decorated by one group of boys for diwali and another group would soon put up the shamiyanas for id. No one feels alone in such a melting pot of cultures. This is typical Bangalore at its peak.

True to the sentiments of patriotism, any Bangalorean would certainly brand all this and the fantastic weather to qualify Bangalore as one of the best cities in the world. But why then, with all its orthodox-south-Indian-meets-the-west charm has Bangalore not carved a niche for itself comparable to that of the famed ‘metros’?? What then, is missing in the jigsaw…? The most common complaint on anyone’s lips these days is the lack of infrastructure. The joys of traveling in a metro- the lower costs, the lesser traffic snarls and the better assurance of reaching the targeted appointment or crucial job interview or even the hospital on time is certainly an improvement. There is also the need for construction of better roads and the promise of maintenance from the government, lest the citizens might have to apply for a private insurance policy! Other elements we can all afford to loose are: the potholes, the dirty (and at times, paan-stained, dark and unplanned gullies), the prospect of being forced to have candle lit dinners all summer thanks to power-cuts, and the annoying one-ways which force us to take circuitous routes to our destinations for no apparent logical reason. The list can just go on. On the other side- the one that marks the people, (for there is no smoke without fire!), the blatant intolerance, the lack of an open minded acceptance and awareness, and the road rages could certainly be done away with. The reality is that some changes are needed in offing to place Bangalore on any note worthy map.

Any wise and observant fellow would probably remark at this point, that although Bangalore has all these deficiencies, it is not as if the other metros are perfect either. They have many such defects and so many hidden fallacies and yet, they are the subjects of all movies, backdrops of books and some of the biggest industries. In fairness to Bangalore, it is probably true that Mumbai, Chennai and Calcutta have been the apple of everyone’s eye from time unknown. But a glance at the history books would confirm that these cities have had a lot of luck- the special key point of being born as ports to their favor. In the olden times, these ports attracted trade, and sometimes even foreign invasion, but prospered all the same. A quintessential part of the charm of these places is the beautiful seaside, and the plethora of historical monuments be it the Gateway or the Howrah. Delhi, on the other hand, has had its share of the limelight in being the place of all Moghul controversy, the item of Rajput desire, and the heart of all conquests in India from, some say, 2500 BC. It certainly sets a theme with the sandstones of the red fort glowing in the pride of the past at sundown or the qutub minar, standing tall. All this while Bangalore stood in almost anonymity! The main note that rings through this quite harshly is that these cities have had a lot of mollycoddling and even more attention from times unremembered for the now obvious reasons. In a nutshell, those guys have had a good head-start..! So, is it even fair to compare the well planned architecture of a city like Delhi of old with the hasty modernization of young Bangalore…? In actuality, the very fact that Bangalore has seen such progress so quickly is a sign that more is to come and that expectations are running too high, too soon. The true beauty of a flower is felt only when it has completely bloomed and this cannot happen in a hurry. It maybe argued that America, the youngling, has matured pretty quickly. But then again, the emotional, cultural and traditional face of the country lies in utter ruins. Unhappy faces surround you there, and many of them migrate to India in their quest for peace. So, why lower the standards when one can rise up to it, and probably go even beyond in the flurry of competition…? It must graciously be accepted that there is a need for a better Bangalore; the acceptance gives way to action, a desire to improve and stand apart. That better Bangalore on everyone’s mind is not a fast paced, commercial Bangalore that has no time to light a lamp with a friend on Diwali. No, the charm of yesteryears must linger on and the fragrances of the future should mingle with that of the past. That will be when a new Bangalore will be born- fresh, clean-hearted and free from all the grime. It is not for recognition that the city must strive, the scars of recent terror attacks have assured us that we are not altogether unnoticed and have had our share of the dark fame. No, a work loving, sincere, peaceful city- the paradise that everyone is crossing continents in search of- is what every Bangalorean must work for surely, when that happens, Bangalore will be a city beyond compare.