Tales of the Wanderlust

Something is pulling my soul from me Like how my amma pulls a small ball of dough from a bigger one, Like how the earth was pulled from the sun, Or the moon was pulled from the earth. Every night, the sky searches for me, to whisper a thrilling plan If only, I come out of my house. Millions of rain drops wait to fall on my cheeks, If only, I peep out of my umbrella. Thousand blades of grass wait to kiss my feet If only, I step out of my shoes. The paper boats I made and let sail as a child, Have reached the streams of my future and are waiting for me to board. I will cross the seven seas and conquer lands beyond, If only, I Wake up.

The colours on the canvas fade slowly As the winds of life erode the surface Of my our imaginary worlds Those worlds that are made and destroyed By wills and fancies – ironically not mine! For solace we can fall back on Karma, Honestly where will civilizations be  if not for these philosophies? Well, for some, dreams are like bubble wrap, Meant less for nurturing, more for bursting Either for the pleasure of others Or for ourselves, as we have nothing better to do! But thanks to those fancies we beggars can ride once in a while.

Don’t call me a drunkard; I drink to be honest The world kills the candid men; you either lie or die Spirits make us blurt out the harshest of the bitter truths Hence listen, sober fools Often the protagonist and the hero of a tale are different The protagonist is destined to be, but to be a hero is a matter of choice The protagonist shoulders the responsibility because the hero bears the burden The protagonist was because the heroes rose Sadly, the heroes are forgotten as the legends are propagated No one knows which is inherent and which you absorbed over the years Tales are a grotesque mixture of innocence and vile astuteness They now spread rigor mortis slowly into inspiration Should I fight or should I love the death of the spirit The answer glows as the warmth spreads Leave the coils and be a free soul eternally And hence I drink and strive to peel off the layers to reveal the reality Don’t call me drunkard; I d...

It is overcast but it would never rain like the trepidation will go unspoken Pieces of broken glass stick together like in one of those unbreakable glasses I grind my teeth and try to scatter them but come back with bruised fingers Its always about others.... or for them, themselves The best words are never said, they are the worst too I walked miles only to discover that it was a circular path Living in desolation would at least keep me grounded The last drop to fill the cup shall never fall Don't even bother what difference does nudity make when no one is around!

As the eclectic smells waft through the air Of salt, sweat and the Cooum river And if the smells of the sea and Jasmine win Yes Machan ; it is Madras you are in! The roaring of machines & blaring of trains With a splash of kollywood and music it rains And if notes of Carnatic rise above the din Yes Machan ; it is Madras you are in! Fluffy soft idlis or hot molaga bajji With piping hot, strong, degree filter coffee   If that’s what the world is having for tiffin Yes Machan ; it is Madras you are in!   Residential flats, Glass Towers, pristine And temples of yore share the sky line If it is Medley of old and new herein   Yes Machan ; it is Madras you are in! Hot, hotter, hottest are the three seasons Blame the humidity and various other reasons If the same warmth is in air and also its men Yes Machan ; it is Madras you are in! No matter where you come here from If you feel at home and always welcome If the cit...

When I can’t talk to you after a testing day, When I can’t see you roaming around, And feel secure in that natural bond, which tied us together, When I can’t listen to your voice - a soothing reassurance, like a breeze that foretells the arrival of monsoon on a sultry summer evening, I try to hold on to the myriad images in my memories I try to experience them in my mind I try to look into the photos in which we have frozen moments that defined my life. Alas, that only makes me cry As I crave more to hug you tight, to lean on your shoulder to beat, to pinch, to bite you to laugh my heart out with you. Those long walks are gone, The silent evenings are a distant past! The unseen, untold, unforgettable hands of darkness hold me down as I try to jump out of this quick sand. All I see is the huge distance As I try to grab as much as I can from your presence To fill up the vacuum of your absence, I slip down in the abyss as huge tongues fla...

Walk slowly but steadily, there is this light to guide you. Transcend, from illusion to truth from darkness to light realise you are already immortal! Transition is constant, we are changing ever. Determine the direction by looking at this soothing light it will lead you, me, us from lower to higher levels of consciousness from turbulence to benevolence from disturbance to peace from experimental to supra mental! The light glows everywhere within the best and worst of men.

Hear all! No not all, only those who can see things before they happen, only those whose hearts, souls and minds are open. Those of us who don't see numbers but value, those of us who talk with your inner you. Hear all indigo spirits, If you feel your life is a Topsy-turvy Déjà Vu   If you feel that you are Winnie the pooh If you speak fluently an unknown tongue If you seem to grow not old but young Hear those who yearn, To return to the warmth of the mother ship to take the final mission completion trip. Those who search everywhere for a sign, did you forget that the stars are ever benign? Soon Jupiter & Venus shall shine above the horizon Mercury will join the celestial procession. Then the pathway to heaven will be thrown open leading us to the land of twinkling purple sun.

  Waiting for the summer rains, unaware that it would never come. Spinning out thousand  tales not knowing where they came from.   Fighting over a packet of maggie or nibbling half a 5 star for hours nothing was exclusively yours or mine the little we had was always ours.   Choosing a tinkle that has to be read now the happiness of having saved rupees ten in the old plastic dabba with a hole life was pure, pristine and simple then.   Come rains off we went to watch with glee and it was best viewed from the hall. who would sit which side of Johari’s window who gets to see the way the rains fall.   Both of us perched on its narrow sill, though unfathomable we did it, but how? Have we out grown it or has the world, Pinky, become too small for our love.

Take off your ear studs And start shaving daily. Keep your eyebrows knotted And stop moving gaily. Can you see in black & white? Can you worship your chores? Do you keep singing always? It’s rude to knock on the doors. A lieutenant cannot speak He should be all eyes and ears. Wait till you get three stars So silence for three years. Understand if I yell at you it’s only a correction, Ah did I tell you? you need to change your vision. Now the silly child within asks,  ‘Where is the bearded uncle, Who used to dance like possessed, And sing a song at will?’

Is 65 years Old? Yes, in the case of mortals. But for the timeless Indian spirit that transcends past, present and future, 65 years is a mere instance but a significant instance at that. Where there has been turbulence and malevolence Where there has been revolution and evolution Where there have been fights for blood and bread. Are we a booming economy or an incomprehensible Dichotomy? The answer is as confusing as the famous Indian nod. We are brave, we are generous We have come so far in a journey which is onerous. We have grown and we have won. Progress, prosperity and charity But did anyone say clarity? We have cultivated breeds of politicians without strains of leadership. Amidst these chaos My mother stands tall as ever, inspiring the world in her infinite wisdom Of harmonizing contradictions, rising despite odds, and drawing billions towards her for solace of the motherhood. Incredible India indeed.

I wake up, besides you Bleary eyed, to the smell of distant freshness Sunshine and drops of honey Sticky, viscous The hangover of happiness Rain washed away the dirty smudges Outside the eternal battle of cutlery Hot, breakfast Amma, can I have the cake and eat it too? Mom said yes!! Thunder and lightning Change of scene Oh no not again. It’s a dream And my heart touches the diaphragm.

With every passing day, I unwind in your warm breath, My hands become more intertwined with yours, I lose myself deeper into the labyrinth of your heart. With every passing day, The winds of life erode the stone wall of will, I realise that you are my life source, I am drawn closer to the light of your pristine innocence. With every passing day, I let my nights dawn for your unborn thoughts And my days await the nightfall to see the million stars - the dreams which were born by the union of our hopes. With every passing day, I resonate more with your silence, I tune into your speech , I decipher your signs Yet I discover more mysteries, unfathomable. But with every passing day, Your image is getting blurred; your voice is getting muffled As the cold tentacles of time drag me away into unknown parts of the ether. Oh my life, When will you let me live? Don’t you see that I am crying under the rainy sky? Alone?

The fall that churns your stomach keeps from tumbling down. Knowing is the first step towards ignorance And ignorance first step towards knowledge. Dattatreya accepted everyone possible as guru, Is it because he was an Avadhuta ? Or did he become that because he learned from all? Do you how to eat multiple helpings of Akara Vadisal ? Lick the pickle between multiple helpings of sweet. If everybody loves you, something is wrong. Find one enemy to keep you alert Paulo Coelho Tweets! Atishoo atishoo may we all fall down.