Category: life

Let’s Talk About The Weather

So finally here we are
Talking about the weather
The most safe topic
Not so long ago
But Alas! No longer is
Who would have imagined this day?
We are not just being
Robbed of a decent weather
But also a safe small conversation
Which now ends up in a rant
Look at the sheer number of folks
Ranting about the European heat wave?
Finally they are getting back at the whites
For not having acs which they never needed
It is equally fun to watch
Europeans learning the ‘DIY’ ways to cool off
Turning the fan away might be just the trick We Indians or rest of the world never learnt
Or putting aluminium foils on the windows
Or using other ways of coping and cooling
Or simply sprinkling water on strangers
Weather is certainly getting
Stranger and stranger
Blowing hot and cold
Bringing rains and droughts
Most of us are ending up
Under the weather
Once upon a time a lovely talking point
Now it’s best avoided
We just cope…we cut trees
We just cope
We buy more cars
We just cope
We wage wars
We just cope
We want all our luxuries
Yet we struggle to cope
We end up on a dream
Summer holidays
Only to find destinations getting hotter
Most tourist spots closed
Our list turns listless
Tired, we feel lucky to find a place
Under the shade
A stranger finally looks at you
And asks how’s the weather?
You paid for this remember?
For that hottest spot
Under the very super hot weather!!

A Closure

I am not sure

What is A Closure?

Which everyone looks for?

Is it a signalling to end a phase of life?

Does life have such demarcations?

Before and after phases

Before school, after school,

Before marriage, after divorce?

After birth and before death

That’s the lifetime we get

We keep dividing into moments

Phases of growing up, coming of age

Falling in and out of love

Getting married, becoming a parent

Then the lonesome empty-nester

We keep drawing lines

Or adding chapters to our lives

While erasing the past which keeps

Receding faster, Doppler shifting away

Memories fade but hurt remains

We can’t get over traumas

Yet we call it PTSD

From the moment of birth to death

It’s just a few odd years

When we scale it

To the age of the Earth or the universe

We can’t even predict 

Where the grim reaper awaits us

When we will close our eyes

The curtains will fall

And the drama will end

The drama of our life

That will be the true closure

Two dates in the bracket

Will define our lifetime

And of course

The perspectives of people

Who loved to love us

And who loved to hate us

While we were caught up

In their ideas of love and hate

The drama was never ours

We were mere characters in

Lives and dramas of others

Time does strange funny things

Somewhere in the future

One might get resurrected

In some random conversations

In another drama of not our making

A dead bright leaf also gets

A chance at immortality

When someone clicks a photo

Or paints it or turns it ornamental

In the Camus Universe

Existence has no purpose or meaning

And here we are purposefully

Decimenting and reducing each other

To almost nothing

Or whatever suits us

Then we seek a closure

Closure from hurt

Only to begin again

Another drama

Hoping for forevers

Which doesn’t exist

Soon I will be gone

And so will you be

We will be either villains or heroes

In shape, perspectives and

Narrative shifting world

How about seeking a fresh start

Maybe begin again

So where were we?

Yes…A closure…

Going Solo

It didn’t take long

To go solo

Be it movies

Or restaurants

Or museums

Or a bookstore

Or treks

I don’t even remember

When it began

Perhaps during my college

My long solo commute?

Every daily commuter

Is always alone

Though almost crushed

In a crowded train or bus

There is a constant

Inner talk with self

About a thing

Or millions of things

Or just an empty mind

Too fatigued to think

You don’t need people

When you grow up

So rugged

And then of course

There are betrayals

Of trust and time

Then there was beautiful phase

When my newborn boy

Became my extension

I was never alone

I was his constant

For that tiny life

I had brought forth

Into this chaotic world

I was never alone

Kids never let you be

Unless you play along

So often it would

Be the library or bookstore  visits

Where I would sit solo

In line of sight of my boy

Far far away in the kids section

I don’t remember

Who exactly was I

Training to be alone ?

After the boy grew up

And flew off far far away

I made up my mind

To be the solitary reaper

Of my abandoned pursuits

I unearthed my buried self

In place of a girl in 20’s

Out came a woman in her 50’s

More calmer, confident and wiser

Much slower too

How I wish I could reach out

To that girl and tell her to go solo

The world abandons you anyways

Women are supposed to play

A second fiddle in everything

Wish I could spare her from

All the traumas and dilemmas

And of course all the tears

My dark circles are rightfully earned

But here I am in my 50’s

Carrying that abandoned

Spirit of my 20’s

I know it feels absurd

To those who never tried

(Or didn’t have to)

To stand up for oneself

And live for a while

Remember?

We have abandoned our earth too

Who moves solo in the dark space

And then there is the final solo act

When we depart solo!!

Michael

You danced & sang

And moonwalked

Your way through life

Life that wasn’t easy

Your childhood was lost

You played in gigs

While other kids went to school

You brought home animals

To talk and show love to

Because humans around you

Didn’t always show up

You lived life on your terms

You broke out of the gilded cage

Made by your father, music producers

You called out the truth and the lies

You reached heights and lows

As a black man you rose high

What a white man

could only dream of

Obviously you had to be punished

They had to make

An example out of you

So that no one else would dare

That’s how white world

Keeps things in order

And gets away with every crime

They still are vilifying you 

Even after all these years

Killing you again and again

Yet they cannot dim your shine 

For you were born a star 

With your own stupendous

Creative energy and charm

Which no one could take away

You showed the world 

Music was a universal language

That could unite and heal the planet

And just when the world

Is very badly wounded

You have made daring comeback

In your movie posthumously

To teach people to live again

To heal the planet again

To dance and moonwalk

Through tears and smiles

To the music of life!!

Silent Night

Night changes everything

Suddenly there is silence

Marking end of the day’s chaos

Everyone is back to their homes

Or spaces they call home

Be it a bench in the park

Or a temporary pitched tent

Outside a sprawling metropolis

All shiny businesses are shuttered down

Only a hole in the wall eating joints

Or big and small eateries are open

Night walkers are all out

In their full gear, counting steps

Migrants are on the call

With their families back home

In campuses, the hostels

Start coming alive

That’s where night owls dwell

Or the SEZ’s with grave yard shift workers

People who do multiple gigs

Begin their another shift

With sun banished

And moon with just enough light

Night comes alive

Silent night seems

Holy and peaceful

All tired souls are back

In their beds, glued to the screens

Everything seems to be

Happening elsewhere

Life also seems to be elsewhere

While dreams and nightmares

Await to come alive in REM

But sleep eludes all city folks

There is so much to take in

That little devious little device

Keeps us all hooked and awake

Will the wars end tonight?

Will the ceasefire last?

Will the tyrant be defeated?

Will the heatwave end?

How many likes will reel get?

Also there is so much gate keeping to do

While trolls are busy hate keeping

Just one night

It can change so many lives

Moreover it’s night here

And day elsewhere

We no longer know

Which time zone we belong

Night creates its own chaos

But yet it exudes a calmness

A semblance of quiet

Silent night, holy night

Where only jungles come alive

Predators and preys

Playing their end game

Which might become

Morning headlines

When yet another

Chaotic day begins

I will postpone sleeping

To another night

After all night is a promise

That day always keeps!!

Prison

Democracy is imprisoned

In the name of justice

Justice is imprisoned

In the name of freedom

Freedom is imprisoned

In the name of Peace

Peace is imprisoned

In the name of War

War is shackled too

In the name of economy

Economy is prisoned too

In the name of capitalism

Capitalism is boxed too

By the markets and profits

One person’s loss is

Another one’s gain

The media is imprisoned too

In the name of propaganda

Propaganda itself is made of lies

Lies aren’t free too

They have to hide the truth

Truth is in gallows too

On non-bailable terms

Don’t ask who benefits

Everyone has lost the plot

Old money gets older

New money becomes old

Those who are poor

Remain poorer

How else will we define

The real rich?

Marginalized communities

Define the majoritarian 

Who turn authoritarian 

Till…till everyone loses the plot

And the script flips 

Nature loves entropy 

But it likes balance too…

Not everyone gets away

With it all…

Where do you stand?

Counting Privileges

Not born poor

Neither rich

Not born marginalized

Neither a majoritarian

Not born with old money

Neither there is new money

Not born beautiful

Nor very ugly

Neither here

Nor there

Being somewhere

Also nowhere

Neither ultra left

Nor right or far right

Neither a doomsayer

Nor a dreamer

Somewhere in between

Nor a perpetrator

Or a predictor

Nor a victim

Nor cruel

Neither the kindest

Perhaps inbetween

Negotiating space

Counting Privileges

And gratitudes

Neither totally dead

Nor totally alive

Neither absent

Nor present

Somewhere in between

Totally exhausted

Brain fogged

Toiling like Sisyphus

Also being a zombie

Neither seeking

Validation

Nor rejection

Being there

And not being there

Trying to be

And not to be

Breathing in

Gasping out

Counting my privileges

As well as my curses

Silent spectator

Living while dying

Superposed states of being

Adding to almost nothing!!

A Hot Summer Afternoon In Uru

Uru in kannada means ‘town/village/native place’. It turns out that I have experienced extreme summers in multiple major cities/towns of India.So I really don’t know which place I belong to whenever I think of hot summers.

My ancestors lived in the arid plateau of North Karnataka, I was born and brought up in Bombay. But every summer holidays we went to my grandparents place till we stopped going and they moved on. So hot summer afternoons were spent listening to my grandma’s tales from scriptures, playing with siblings and cousins till native homes were around. So did that place stop being my Uru? I really don’t know. 

Then there were summers spent in Bombay in various suburbs. Mangoes and playtime dominate the memories. Also reading the few books we had again and again. Postponing all studies and homework till the holidays ended. The school reopening often coincided with the onset of monsoons.

Then I have been in other Urus looking for shade in the hot summer afternoon, thirsty sojourns and all yummy Rasnas and Ruh Afzaas to quench the thirst. The west of India has its own charm. Officially summer ended with watching monsoon on marine drive (not very far from the hospital where I was born).

I often wonder did the sea breeze kiss me in that cradle room before others did? I feel more like a wild nomadic kind who loves nature, seas, hills and starry nights. And most of all the evening breezes which come from nowhere to caress you at the end of a tiring day.

Like Kamala Das, I am digressing, I am from many places and have found unexpected twists and turns in life all the while searching for myself and trying to make peace with the void within. Love came and passed, like it always does – just like summer.

I am envious when flowers bloom, trees bear mangoes and other fruits while we face sweltering heat. I always thought, I am not a summer person.

And then one summer I found myself dirt poor in Paris with my young son. We rationed to afford a gelato but we splurged on a TGV ride. We thought it was going to be the only summer of our lifetimes spent in Lyon and Paris. But then that wasn’t to be…

Little did I imagine my boy would move there and I would move cities – another Uru and will be living by myself waiting for summer break to catch my breath. Listening to my son complain about unbearable heat in Paris and him wanting to be in my Uru to escape the heat.

Dystopian times indeed…summers are strange in any uru – any town – native or non native towns, be it here or in Europe. But then one can find kindness lurking in shadows in the hot cruel summer heat. I shifted to Uru two summers ago and found immense kindness in the city that had completely changed.

And then one fine day, in a cab ride, I found my playlist which resonated completely with my state of mind. Little did I imagine that I would be writing this prose poem while waiting for the live concert of same soulful songs to begin. Summer does spring surprises while springs often go summer!!