The bubble ascends
From inside the kettle.
The heat suffocating,
The light inviting.
Seeking freedom,
It rises,
Desiring a world
Beyond the circular confines
Of this ceramic coffin.
It floats
To an early salvation.
Its is a fleeting existence,
A forbidden freedom.
Its is a futile dream,
A forsaken death.
The kite tugs at the strings
That gave it height,
That gave it flight.
It sees a world
That the hands cannot.
It seeks a world
That the heart knows not.
Wants to fly, unguided,
Wants to mingle
With the clouds above,
And live those brief minutes
Before earth and death
And trampling feet
Catch up.
Its is a complicated existence,
A controlled freedom.
Its is a consuming dream,
A captivating death.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Reunion
I see her standing
On the sidewalk.
All alone.
I gaze into her gray eyes,
And remember days bygone -
Of times spent
Bathing in the sea,
Drying ourselves
Under a warm sun;
Of times spent
Lazing in the shade,
Feeling each other
Breathe;
Of times spent
Running in the rain,
With people staring
Out of jealousy;
Of times spent
Without words intruding
Upon our silent company.
She looks away,
The pain of separation
Evident in her eyes.
It's been years now.
I've been with others,
I've changed,
And so has she.
Her memory endures
Inside me.
But she can't
Make me out.
I then whistle
Her favourite tune.
She looks up,
Remembering,
Recognizing,
And trots over,
Her tail a-wagging.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Until next time, Bye! ;)
On the sidewalk.
All alone.
I gaze into her gray eyes,
And remember days bygone -
Of times spent
Bathing in the sea,
Drying ourselves
Under a warm sun;
Of times spent
Lazing in the shade,
Feeling each other
Breathe;
Of times spent
Running in the rain,
With people staring
Out of jealousy;
Of times spent
Without words intruding
Upon our silent company.
She looks away,
The pain of separation
Evident in her eyes.
It's been years now.
I've been with others,
I've changed,
And so has she.
Her memory endures
Inside me.
But she can't
Make me out.
I then whistle
Her favourite tune.
She looks up,
Remembering,
Recognizing,
And trots over,
Her tail a-wagging.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Until next time, Bye! ;)
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
22 and the catch
72 days (I need a calculator these days!) into my twenty-third year on this planet(ah! the cosmic touch), and I've started to realize the ephemerality of life...ok, even though I'd like to sound like some Tantric guru who's discovered the meaning of life - you know the type, the ones who keep saying "Shaaaanti"(Mandira Bedi??) - the reason for this blog is something that happens to all of us. At some time or the other.
Growing old (jeez! do I hate that three letter word or what?). Your metabolism slows down, your hair starts thinning(What wouldn't I do to have Colin Farell's genes!) , and a whole lot of changes happen, some of which I don't wanna put in words.
Everywhere I turn these days, there's only one fact that stares at me in the face, screaming its lungs out, stubbornly refusing to just lay down and die. The unrelenting truth is that I'm more than 2 years into my third decade of this current life (there's the Tantric touch again; must be all these Spiritual books that I keep reading), and that I possibly no longer fit the term 'young'. Why you ask? Ok, I present my case:
You-are-old-dumbass!-Incident 1: Was watching Maria Sharapova (what legs maan!!) playing at the ...err...umm...never mind (need to start taking those memory tablets again), playing at some goddamn Open sponsored by some goddamn bank in some goddamn country. And as it happens with me quite often (especially after watching a member of that divine species Homo Womano Longo Legens), that night I dreamt I was playing with Maria herself (just a harmless match; nothing else I swear!). And I was getting whipped badly - err guess 'whipped' is a misleading verb, but you get the 'picture'. And out of the blue...kaRAAASH, woke up to reality and a really sore head. And amidst all the throbbing pain and the regrets of an unfinished match, it dawned on me that she was too young!! Yeah, she's a wonderful, leggy 18 now, but for a guy like me, 18 is just too young (ha! this is where Maria Sharapova gets stood up by me). And if you are as poor a judge of age as I am, that takes a lot of fun out of the little "Bird Watching" that one indulges in - you are never sure how old she is.
Girls just keep getting younger...sheesh, and prettier;). And adding to that list of eligible-but-young are a whole trove of 'ilam' actresses who are (to put it mildly) heart-wrenchingly-soul-shatteringly-sleep-deprivingly beautiful. Just too young. Ain't that a pity?
Can't-turn-back-time- Incident 2: Next come the little buggers on the street playing cricket. Damn them! Damn them all to hell! They call out, "Unnnnnncle! Ball Uncle! please Unclllllllle! Unccccccccle." Arrrgh. Gaaahh. I pretend not to hear. But it rings out again:"UNCCCCLE." There's no mistaking its meaning or the subject in question. I turn around slowly. Uncle?? UNCLE??! who? me?? UNNCLE?? Naa, you must be mistaken, but the kid looks at me in the eye, grinning menacingly, I'll say that which must not be said if you don't throw the ball. I sigh. This surely must be my day of reckoning, I start to think, stroll over to where the ball has rolled dead to a stop, pick it up and vent all my frustration and anger in a searing throw back to the kid, Take that, Now who's the Uncle huh? But he catches it effortlessly, Is that all you've got?, smirks, and calls out,"Thanks UNCLLE! Good throw!" Gaaaaaaaaaaaah. Thanks kid. Thanks a lot. I needed that. Every bit of that. What goes around comes around. Karma I guess (here I go again!).
Down-the-hill-from-now-on-Incident 3: "What in God's name am I doing here?" I wonder, as I stand barefooted in the depressingly damp confines of my bathroom. Especially as I'd set out for the kitchen to grab some grub. Evidently the kitchen and the bathroom had switched places. Elementary(did I hear someone say "absent-minded"?).
"Now why doesn't the frikkin radio work?" I say out aloud, fiddling with the remote, pressing the buttons on the panel into their sockets until there's nothing left to press. I curse the Korean manufacturer, questioning his parentage, doubting his sexual proclivities, until I look up...Damn, dammmmmn, Why does this have to happen to me? How would the radio work? Especially when the remote is the TV's??
Brute Fact 1 : Nobody holds 'Summer camps' for people over twenty. Is there any chance I can sue for discrimination/emotional trauma?
Brute Fact 2: The body becomes an alarm clock. It's disgusting, especially when your visits to the loo start following a time table.
Last-nail-in-the-coffin: Nothing else is more enlightening about my age than nosy relatives asking pointed questions about my "eligibility". And to top it all, Ma begins,"There's this girl...", and the rest dies away as I take to my heels. Spare me, I'm outttta here!! Jesus! Give a guy a break will you??
There. I have it off my chest. Feels better to let it out once in a while. Now I'm at peace with myself. Shaaaanti.
But being "old" does have its benefits -ahem- but that I'll save for a future blog.
Until then, Happy Aging my fellow beings.
Growing old (jeez! do I hate that three letter word or what?). Your metabolism slows down, your hair starts thinning(What wouldn't I do to have Colin Farell's genes!) , and a whole lot of changes happen, some of which I don't wanna put in words.
Everywhere I turn these days, there's only one fact that stares at me in the face, screaming its lungs out, stubbornly refusing to just lay down and die. The unrelenting truth is that I'm more than 2 years into my third decade of this current life (there's the Tantric touch again; must be all these Spiritual books that I keep reading), and that I possibly no longer fit the term 'young'. Why you ask? Ok, I present my case:
You-are-old-dumbass!-Incident 1: Was watching Maria Sharapova (what legs maan!!) playing at the ...err...umm...never mind (need to start taking those memory tablets again), playing at some goddamn Open sponsored by some goddamn bank in some goddamn country. And as it happens with me quite often (especially after watching a member of that divine species Homo Womano Longo Legens), that night I dreamt I was playing with Maria herself (just a harmless match; nothing else I swear!). And I was getting whipped badly - err guess 'whipped' is a misleading verb, but you get the 'picture'. And out of the blue...kaRAAASH, woke up to reality and a really sore head. And amidst all the throbbing pain and the regrets of an unfinished match, it dawned on me that she was too young!! Yeah, she's a wonderful, leggy 18 now, but for a guy like me, 18 is just too young (ha! this is where Maria Sharapova gets stood up by me). And if you are as poor a judge of age as I am, that takes a lot of fun out of the little "Bird Watching" that one indulges in - you are never sure how old she is.
Girls just keep getting younger...sheesh, and prettier;). And adding to that list of eligible-but-young are a whole trove of 'ilam' actresses who are (to put it mildly) heart-wrenchingly-soul-shatteringly-sleep-deprivingly beautiful. Just too young. Ain't that a pity?
Can't-turn-back-time- Incident 2: Next come the little buggers on the street playing cricket. Damn them! Damn them all to hell! They call out, "Unnnnnncle! Ball Uncle! please Unclllllllle! Unccccccccle." Arrrgh. Gaaahh. I pretend not to hear. But it rings out again:"UNCCCCLE." There's no mistaking its meaning or the subject in question. I turn around slowly. Uncle?? UNCLE??! who? me?? UNNCLE?? Naa, you must be mistaken, but the kid looks at me in the eye, grinning menacingly, I'll say that which must not be said if you don't throw the ball. I sigh. This surely must be my day of reckoning, I start to think, stroll over to where the ball has rolled dead to a stop, pick it up and vent all my frustration and anger in a searing throw back to the kid, Take that, Now who's the Uncle huh? But he catches it effortlessly, Is that all you've got?, smirks, and calls out,"Thanks UNCLLE! Good throw!" Gaaaaaaaaaaaah. Thanks kid. Thanks a lot. I needed that. Every bit of that. What goes around comes around. Karma I guess (here I go again!).
Down-the-hill-from-now-on-Incident 3: "What in God's name am I doing here?" I wonder, as I stand barefooted in the depressingly damp confines of my bathroom. Especially as I'd set out for the kitchen to grab some grub. Evidently the kitchen and the bathroom had switched places. Elementary(did I hear someone say "absent-minded"?).
"Now why doesn't the frikkin radio work?" I say out aloud, fiddling with the remote, pressing the buttons on the panel into their sockets until there's nothing left to press. I curse the Korean manufacturer, questioning his parentage, doubting his sexual proclivities, until I look up...Damn, dammmmmn, Why does this have to happen to me? How would the radio work? Especially when the remote is the TV's??
Brute Fact 1 : Nobody holds 'Summer camps' for people over twenty. Is there any chance I can sue for discrimination/emotional trauma?
Brute Fact 2: The body becomes an alarm clock. It's disgusting, especially when your visits to the loo start following a time table.
Last-nail-in-the-coffin: Nothing else is more enlightening about my age than nosy relatives asking pointed questions about my "eligibility". And to top it all, Ma begins,"There's this girl...", and the rest dies away as I take to my heels. Spare me, I'm outttta here!! Jesus! Give a guy a break will you??
There. I have it off my chest. Feels better to let it out once in a while. Now I'm at peace with myself. Shaaaanti.
But being "old" does have its benefits -ahem- but that I'll save for a future blog.
Until then, Happy Aging my fellow beings.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
For a friend...
...who was lucky enough to find love.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Questions at a tomb
Tell me…
Was I the signpost when you were lost?
Was I there when you needed me the most?
Was I the water that eluded your hands?
Was I the smile that blossomed on your lips?
Was I brave when you were not?
The way you were when I was not?
Was I the mirror that did not lie?
Was I the book you knew by heart?
Was I the light that escaped your curtains?
Was I the dream that invaded your nights?
Was I in your laughter, in your tears?
Was I there to help you conquer your fears?
Was I the answer you could never question?
Was I too much of a question to answer?
Was I worthy of all that you gifted me?
Was ours everything that love could be?
Tell me…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this a few months ago and every time I read it, I get this doubt whether my 'that's are right, and if I should replace a few of them by 'which's.
So, I went googling and found a few useful sites that threw some light on the topic (and I'm relieved! my 'that's are right after all!):
http://www.rightwords.co.nz/that.html
http://www.worldwidewords.org/articles/which.htm
http://webster.commnet.edu/grammar/notorious/that.htm
And this presumptuous page that told me nothing(grammar is so easy with examples, and this gave me none):
http://www.stc.org/intercom/PDFs/2005/200503_48.pdf
Bye!
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Questions at a tomb
Tell me…
Was I the signpost when you were lost?
Was I there when you needed me the most?
Was I the water that eluded your hands?
Was I the smile that blossomed on your lips?
Was I brave when you were not?
The way you were when I was not?
Was I the mirror that did not lie?
Was I the book you knew by heart?
Was I the light that escaped your curtains?
Was I the dream that invaded your nights?
Was I in your laughter, in your tears?
Was I there to help you conquer your fears?
Was I the answer you could never question?
Was I too much of a question to answer?
Was I worthy of all that you gifted me?
Was ours everything that love could be?
Tell me…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this a few months ago and every time I read it, I get this doubt whether my 'that's are right, and if I should replace a few of them by 'which's.
So, I went googling and found a few useful sites that threw some light on the topic (and I'm relieved! my 'that's are right after all!):
http://www.rightwords.co.nz/that.html
http://www.worldwidewords.org/articles/which.htm
http://webster.commnet.edu/grammar/notorious/that.htm
And this presumptuous page that told me nothing(grammar is so easy with examples, and this gave me none):
http://www.stc.org/intercom/PDFs/2005/200503_48.pdf
Bye!
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Me - part 1
Been having this autobiographical urge for some time now, and much as it makes poor blog material, I thought it's better to get it out of the system.
Rajesh Sabapathy, 22 years, born on Valentine's Day 1983 (yeah before India inc. and Archie's woke up and cashed in), Electronics and Communications Engineer, right now working as an R&D engineer in an automobile ancillaries firm called UCAL Fuel Systems Ltd. That's how the world knows me, but there's another side (isn't there always?).
The other side which I've tried to qualify in the 'About me' you see in my profile. All of it is true, at least right now it is. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? So, here's an explanation (even though I hate offering interpretations for my poems; yes I write poetry):
Sunny and cheerful: I'm always upbeat, optimistic, cheerful and positive. Yeah, the match-is-not-lost-till-the-last-ball-is-bowled-or-the-last-run-is-taken type! You can see it in my writing - I use a lot of exclamatory marks!(there I go again). It's been a strength but a weakness as well in that I sometimes waste my energy in the pursuit of useless quests.
Quiet and thoughtful: I don't speak much. And I philosophize a great deal. Oh yes, I write a lot, but speak? Naa. So much so that even my best friends don't know a lot about me. But whenever I speak, it's not without purpose - at least the few times I make sense to others. Yeah, I'm Sid from DCH (absolutely adore Akshay Khanna's character in that movie!!).
Proud and arrogant: Fiery. Very fiery. With some things. Cricket, Video piracy, Social responsibility...and I AM arrogant. If I'm right (and I always back my judgements with sound reason), I'm right. Everyone else can sod off.
Cold and distant: Have this aloof side to me that prevents me from getting really close with anyone or anything. To me, everything in life is a mystery waiting to be solved only to move on to the next one (I think I read that in Linda Goodman about Aquarians and I totally agree). I get philosophical at times about this - that life is too short to be bonded to something and to get bogged down, but it pisses off a few people who get the impression that I don't care.
Impulsive and playful: haha...can't resist a prank - be it locking in my sis when she's having a bath or changing the language setting in my friends' cell phones to 'pilipino'...have this imp inside me and I find it hard to suppress him. And yes the impulsive side shows up when I surprise people (and myself!) with my actions.
Dreamy and hesitant: Where do I start? I dream a grrrrrreat deal!! ...IAF Pilot (which little boy doesn't want to become one huh?), Indian cricketer (you can see a pattern emerging here), UN doctor (that one took some serious beating after my 12th standard exams), and now, an aspiring writer (and I'm gonna make sure this one works out!!). But all my dreams suffer because of my hesitant nature...got a lot of gremlins in the head and sometimes the simplest thing becomes difficult for me - previous blog being a case in point.
Wandering and restless: Now you know why the name Musafir - absolutely love everything about travelling...the buses, the trains (and now recently, the planes, but that's for later), the stations, the stops, the people, the dust, the grime, the sweat...for me, it's the journey that holds more appeal than the destination. Always. But the trouble is I get bored with a place soon, and it's time to move on. Like I said, I AM an extremely detached person, and it troubles me no end.
Patient and determined: Am very focussed with my goals - even if a bit hesitant...and patience is my greatest virtue. I'm a bit stoic as well, if I might add.
Man and God: I believe in God - there's still some time before I become an atheist (I'm sure I will some day, but not now - life is too beautiful at present). I'm also of the firm opinion that there is God in each of us (the Anbae Sivam logic) - be it in the work that we do, or in the love that we show others. But I'm also a being of flesh - I commit a helluva lot of mistakes, have the same dreams and aspirations as others, and I do have my share of vices.
Finally (yeah! finallly :). This blog looks like one of those 12 mark answers I used to write for my Engineering exams), I have no illusions about my mortality, but I do aspire to leave something behind that will be eternal. Whether that materializes or not, I'll know in the days to come.
There's more to me, but that's for part 2 (hopefully this autobiographical urge dies right now and there will be no part 2!!).
If you're still reading, thanks! Will be back to my cheery self tomorrow :)
Rajesh Sabapathy, 22 years, born on Valentine's Day 1983 (yeah before India inc. and Archie's woke up and cashed in), Electronics and Communications Engineer, right now working as an R&D engineer in an automobile ancillaries firm called UCAL Fuel Systems Ltd. That's how the world knows me, but there's another side (isn't there always?).
The other side which I've tried to qualify in the 'About me' you see in my profile. All of it is true, at least right now it is. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? So, here's an explanation (even though I hate offering interpretations for my poems; yes I write poetry):
Sunny and cheerful: I'm always upbeat, optimistic, cheerful and positive. Yeah, the match-is-not-lost-till-the-last-ball-is-bowled-or-the-last-run-is-taken type! You can see it in my writing - I use a lot of exclamatory marks!(there I go again). It's been a strength but a weakness as well in that I sometimes waste my energy in the pursuit of useless quests.
Quiet and thoughtful: I don't speak much. And I philosophize a great deal. Oh yes, I write a lot, but speak? Naa. So much so that even my best friends don't know a lot about me. But whenever I speak, it's not without purpose - at least the few times I make sense to others. Yeah, I'm Sid from DCH (absolutely adore Akshay Khanna's character in that movie!!).
Proud and arrogant: Fiery. Very fiery. With some things. Cricket, Video piracy, Social responsibility...and I AM arrogant. If I'm right (and I always back my judgements with sound reason), I'm right. Everyone else can sod off.
Cold and distant: Have this aloof side to me that prevents me from getting really close with anyone or anything. To me, everything in life is a mystery waiting to be solved only to move on to the next one (I think I read that in Linda Goodman about Aquarians and I totally agree). I get philosophical at times about this - that life is too short to be bonded to something and to get bogged down, but it pisses off a few people who get the impression that I don't care.
Impulsive and playful: haha...can't resist a prank - be it locking in my sis when she's having a bath or changing the language setting in my friends' cell phones to 'pilipino'...have this imp inside me and I find it hard to suppress him. And yes the impulsive side shows up when I surprise people (and myself!) with my actions.
Dreamy and hesitant: Where do I start? I dream a grrrrrreat deal!! ...IAF Pilot (which little boy doesn't want to become one huh?), Indian cricketer (you can see a pattern emerging here), UN doctor (that one took some serious beating after my 12th standard exams), and now, an aspiring writer (and I'm gonna make sure this one works out!!). But all my dreams suffer because of my hesitant nature...got a lot of gremlins in the head and sometimes the simplest thing becomes difficult for me - previous blog being a case in point.
Wandering and restless: Now you know why the name Musafir - absolutely love everything about travelling...the buses, the trains (and now recently, the planes, but that's for later), the stations, the stops, the people, the dust, the grime, the sweat...for me, it's the journey that holds more appeal than the destination. Always. But the trouble is I get bored with a place soon, and it's time to move on. Like I said, I AM an extremely detached person, and it troubles me no end.
Patient and determined: Am very focussed with my goals - even if a bit hesitant...and patience is my greatest virtue. I'm a bit stoic as well, if I might add.
Man and God: I believe in God - there's still some time before I become an atheist (I'm sure I will some day, but not now - life is too beautiful at present). I'm also of the firm opinion that there is God in each of us (the Anbae Sivam logic) - be it in the work that we do, or in the love that we show others. But I'm also a being of flesh - I commit a helluva lot of mistakes, have the same dreams and aspirations as others, and I do have my share of vices.
Finally (yeah! finallly :). This blog looks like one of those 12 mark answers I used to write for my Engineering exams), I have no illusions about my mortality, but I do aspire to leave something behind that will be eternal. Whether that materializes or not, I'll know in the days to come.
There's more to me, but that's for part 2 (hopefully this autobiographical urge dies right now and there will be no part 2!!).
If you're still reading, thanks! Will be back to my cheery self tomorrow :)
Monday, April 18, 2005
...phew!
Yeah, phew, whew and pant!!
Never knew creating a blog could be so hard on the grey cells...no, I'm not talking about the 1-2-3 that Blogger has for its new-borns, but the name-choosing part of it.
The Bard couldn't have been more off the mark when he said there's nothing in a name. Yeah, a rose would smell just as sweet, but a blog is a different thing. Way different. Especially if it's your first, like mine is.
Come to think of it, it's not any different from choosing a name for one's baby these days. There are a zillion people out there, and everyone wants a name for their baby that is ...well, unique!! You want it to be everything that you want the baby to be. Something that stands out in the crowd.
And yes, names DO matter these days...ever heard of an Abhithakujalaambaal winning a fashion show? Or a Kuppuswamikanth making it big in Kollywood?? It just doesn't happen. Would Britney Spears be as hot if her name was Popmi Eyars...no way! It's all in the name!!
Not that I want my blog to be a sensation, but yes, I did want its name to say just what I wanted it to say, and stand out as well. And so I spent three weeks - yup! all of 21 days - fretting over a frikking name! Sometimes it's the simple things in life that are the hardest.
So, here I am finally with my own blog. A first. A start.
And yes, whew, pant, wheeze...phew! ;)
Never knew creating a blog could be so hard on the grey cells...no, I'm not talking about the 1-2-3 that Blogger has for its new-borns, but the name-choosing part of it.
The Bard couldn't have been more off the mark when he said there's nothing in a name. Yeah, a rose would smell just as sweet, but a blog is a different thing. Way different. Especially if it's your first, like mine is.
Come to think of it, it's not any different from choosing a name for one's baby these days. There are a zillion people out there, and everyone wants a name for their baby that is ...well, unique!! You want it to be everything that you want the baby to be. Something that stands out in the crowd.
And yes, names DO matter these days...ever heard of an Abhithakujalaambaal winning a fashion show? Or a Kuppuswamikanth making it big in Kollywood?? It just doesn't happen. Would Britney Spears be as hot if her name was Popmi Eyars...no way! It's all in the name!!
Not that I want my blog to be a sensation, but yes, I did want its name to say just what I wanted it to say, and stand out as well. And so I spent three weeks - yup! all of 21 days - fretting over a frikking name! Sometimes it's the simple things in life that are the hardest.
So, here I am finally with my own blog. A first. A start.
And yes, whew, pant, wheeze...phew! ;)
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