Archives for category: Just some prose

I love our shared memories of a cement tank with a wad of cloth holding the water in. A badam tree’s bounty of green fruit splattering blood like stains as they fall from its high grasp. Grandparents spinning stories that have helped us weave our todays. A love for those days of rooftop to rooftop jumps and food cooked with the energy of the universe coursing thru an old body. Cracking walls in a musty room with thoughts hanging like cobwebs, whispering and beckoning young souls into a time warp.

My mind takes me to strange places
And leaves me marooned
On an island of no return
Then my soul takes over and
Airlifts me out of there

Places of spirit but no spice
Marooned in wordy pools
On islands of madness
A soul adrift amidst floating chairs
I want out of here

Strange love is this way
Do not leave me alone with the peacock
Return and be mine
My heart takes flight at the thought
Of you and me eternally true

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Nungu(நுங்கு) in Tamil,Taati Munjalu (తాటి ముంజలు) in Telugu, The Borassus flabellifer plant and fruit is known as Tala in Oriya, Thot Not in Vietnamese, Tari in Hindi, Taal (তাল) in Bengali, Tale Hannu or Taati ningu in Kannada, Pana Nangu(ml:പനം നൊങ്ക്)in MalayalamMunjal in Urdu, Lontar in Indonesian, Siwalan in Javanese, Ta’al in Madurese, Ton Taan in Thai, Akadiru by the East Timorese, Tao in Divehi, Tadfali (pronunciation variations are Tad-fali or Taadfali) in Gujarati, Targula in Konkani, Tadgola (ताडगोळा) in Marathi and sometimes Ice-apple in British English

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I met a man resplendent as a god.
When immersed in his dance
Words, thoughts, eyes, every muscle
Dance to Lord Hanuman

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“He shouts Marco,
The shout Polo.
Turquoise light,
Shining bright.

Colourful heads
And shoes.
Bodies cavorting,
Free and loose.”

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“Raghu wild and ungroomed. Aware and contemplative. My words about him do not reflect his truth in any way. This is the boy who would ask “is this, this grape?” Referring to each grape from a bowl, asking if the next grape, going into his mouth, was the same as the one before. Calvin’s take on the universe, Raghu’s new book love, matches and inspires him to ask his Tatha, “do you believe in God? Or what is your version of God?” There is no man in the sky. Just a large energy pulsating thru all of us. Or is it all a dream dreaming a dream? Enjoying the movie “The Englishman who went up a hill and came down a mountain” and then recommending it to his grandparents, who loved it. And thanked him. Playing “guess the movie” with Zoya…. He stood on a chair and spread his arms out…. She screamed “Rio”. Wow. Life with him is something else.”

I am a mother, large and full of love.
I am an artist, burning with energy
I am on a path of no return

My art will sear itself out of me
Brandishing a sword at those who trespass
On its holy path

A large bosom for love
Wide hips itching to destroy
Strength enough to create whole worlds around me

Scared of the darkness
Timid with thoughts too petty to mention
On nights when i forget my other self

Creating and mothering
My two selves are but the same
One makes art and the other makes men

I am walking this knife edge
Rekindling flames and dreams
Waxing and waning like the moon.

I’ve heard it said that two friends quarrelled without a cause. For years, they did not meet, till one day, chance threw them together, on a moving train. Each felt a smile growing upon the other’s face, wondering why it mattered so little, whatever it was that had torn them apart.

Like one river splits into two, flows in different directions, over vastly different terrains, and comes together again, after journeying alone, all this while, with much to share and to enjoy together, their friendship awakened, as though after long years of sleep, refreshed, renewed and vital.

When it’s a river flowing from such heights, it’s only a matter of time, before an entire island is reduced to the size of a small pebble upon its riverbed.