Best Friends' Weddings

Last week vanished like a dream.

A great start for a new beginning.

Memories to be forgotten only to be replaced with new ones of togetherness.

(Made me wonder why I never went back to Chennai earlier)

Two beautiful brides (and ok-ok looking grooms :-) Great guys for my awesome friends.

Opposite ends of the world meet here, part here to different parts of the world.

Imagining Opera House, Coral Reefs, Ground Zero and the Niagara Falls (Obviously sitting on the beach in Nice).

When shall we meet again? (Mouthing a prayer)

Soon, real soon.

Wedding Chimes

Jingles of the ornament still rings in my ear

Of a happy life, an end, a begin, with fear

My footsteps traced from the umbilical cord

To the blood ties bonded before the Lord

Tears of joy floods spaces all around

Starry eyes for the days waiting to be found

Fare the well, to the old, with a heart so heavy,

A welcoming smile to the new us and we

This poem is dedicated to my two best friends who are getting married on Aug 27, 2008.

With loads of love, hugs and prayers! :)

Have a great married life!

Easy comes, easy goes

Why is pain entertained more than joy?
Can gravity be blamed for tears to drop?
A thought worthy of ponder, this is my boy,
Human act of inhumanity upon him, has it no stop?

Is reality a good teacher? A guide to follow with rules
Or is he a mere preacher? A walking stick for noble fools
Are we one of them? I innocently dare to ask
Can I answer myself? Truth an inevitable task

For pain, resignation welcomed on a red carpet
This is just the beginning, a sigh, a why
For joy, indignation walled by a tight corset
How long will it last, an end, a goodbye.

Bangalore blasts- are u having a blast?

Yesterday…

I was reading a post written by one of my good friends. He had articulately given his opinions about personal complaints.

Today…

There were 7 blasts in Bangalore, the place where I live. Three of the areas where the bomb went off were near my home.

Now… This moment!

I am alive. My limbs are working well, although sometimes they protest due to lack of activity or groan because of too much forced movement from all the exercise that I am getting (yeah right!).

I have a sense of humour or I think I do. If I bored to death by someone who isn’t I complain. But I am still alive.

So what gives me the right to complain?

My working conditions are horrible. But then you are still working and you get paid and you are buying, spending it on things that bring you joy. Temporary, but none the less, joy!

You had plans for the weekend but you live to see another Saturday night.

And believe me, I was just beginning to feel bad about my horribly failed weekend plans, when I heard that three of the blasts which took place at three areas which are close to each other and one of them happens to be where I live. It could have happened in the bus stop near my home. It didn’t. I am alive.

One of the blasts that happened was in Shivaji Nagar. This is where my friends and I would have been tomorrow. What if the blasts had taken place then? Worst of all... What if only I survived? Three of us are alive.

How would it be if I was walking one day, loving the beautiful evening sun, the pleasant breeze, enjoying the lovely scent of my new L’oreal shampoo and conditioner (which by the way I saved every penny to buy) and I had no idea how the next moment felt like because I was blown up? How will it be?

Well, although I joked about it being a “Near Death experience”
It wasn’t. Not even remotely close.

From Now on...
I think I am going to indulge in that L'oeral shampoo and conditioner now. Walk in the moonlight coming up!

Room

I see a room
devoid of happiness
devoid of joy.

I see a room
completely swept clean
a stick and broom.

I see a room
where existed sweet love making
sweet nothings to the brim.

I see a room
filled with bitter spats
a knife and sword.

I see a room
where I once was
I now am
at the threshold I stand
I faintly hear the room say
but its echo is what I listen
Will it ever happen again?
He is my religion and me his pagan

Love and her life

Love is like a whistling whore

Sexes and seduces

In tune with her melancholic folklore

She perishes in another’s passionate fire

Consummating her true self

As she beckons her highness, majesty or sire

Any dawn and dusk is far too anew

Spreads and screams

Left thousands who have tasted her on cue

She drags from one man’s arm to the others bed

Coaxes and caresses

In sweet illusion she skips away to the dead.

Adieu

Do I turn to you, my love

At this moment of tragic inheritance

Or do I turn to you, my passionate word

To lay my bloody sword in meek acceptance

Coerced to the helm, partaken in both

To whom do I bid adieu is my own

Nothing left to perchance

Regret in the aftermath, none of which unavoidable

Love, they say, is blind

Led my hand where the hearts’ foreseen unkind

I have not sailed the seven seas

Nor climbed treacherous mountains

But give myself in his hands of peace

Yet to me the same sweet is my sour

For my words, I never did have to lure

To flow a path they picked

They rose and fell on their torrid fate

Not like anything man can ever make

But words, now owe it to him, their head and their toe

In birth speaketh his name, as in death

In his joy, in sorrow, in his humble and in vain

Here I place myself at the crossroads

Coerced to the helm, with a partake in both

Cause every pride has no more than one king

For I must chose the ruler of my married ring

Do I turn to you, my love

Do I turn to you, my word