Sunday, 28 July 2013


Image prompt from The Mag

Underneath the rusted iron, a prowess of illusion remained,
The unable driver of the machine remained in awe,
Wheels turned towards a virginal meadow, wet from dew,
Unheeded balloons that flew from the past settled around,
It lifted the machine and made it drift along in the wind,
The driver's watch made revolutions towards the past.

Balloons, blue in hue, showed him paths to the unknown,
He drove in mid air, honked at passing souls, some
Blinded by the confusion of death, while some struggled
To remove burial dirt that perturbed, even in afterlife!

Balloons, red in rage, talked about the life of a wizard
Who fell in love with a princess, how he gave her
Balloons, red with love, out here in the meadows,
Illuminated with light from his shiny new machine.

Balloons, black and bleak, overpowered the ride with
A fury of emotions. It hit the car towards unruly clouds,
Rain and winds swirled the machine, red balloons popped
Giving grave thunder, the wizard's tears fell as rain!

Balloons which remained, yellow and alone,
Spoke of a lover's pledge, it glowed bright and true,
The eyes of the wizard looked plainly at the driver,
A lifetime's promise could now be fulfilled.

The driver woke up at his own bed, his machine stood
Erect in the yard, with yellow balloons still in flight,
He saw raindrops, frozen, yet still hugging onto the
Yellow group. He took them to the queen as a present,
She rejected them outright, but the frozen balloons
Made a final flight, it settled on the queens lap,
And burst with the sound of cries, and frozen drops
Of rain dripped all along her royal gown!

Impromptu : An impromptu magic trick is the one in which a magician performs an illusion with items that he happen to find at a moment's notice.

Thursday, 25 July 2013


The search for truth haunted him during sleeps,
Life struggled to hang on between hopes and dreams,
A plate of ideas never presented itself,
Time gradually left spots of grey in his hairs,
It left him bewildered, and his thoughts scattered
While his cat screeched for air inside the box.

Ideas are contagious, obsessions are grave,
He was caught unaware between the extremes,
Answers clawed into his weary brains,
And filled each cell with a resurgence of life.
Poison spread evenly inside the box,
The screeches of dislike slowly ceased.

His tangled life began to relieve, he felt the Sun
Shower him with vibrant quarks of love, his dark
Lab was left with the fire and light of a distant source,
The granter of verve pushed his brains to the limits,
With each ray, he felt the unpredictability of life,
He felt its supreme beauty, the cat was forgotten.

His theory received its tranquil intro, but each
Word build itself up towards a poignant revolution,
Quarks of love was replaced by the fury of science,
Erratic methods of nature became inevitable truths,
The grandeur of the world was replaced by
The sophistication of a particle in motion,
The poisoned cat hopped between life and death,
And played merrily with the tangled strings of science.

Verschränkung is the German word for Entanglement, coined famously by Erwin Schrodinger as he went on to interpret the phenomenon of Quantum Mechanics through the famous Schrondinger's Cat Thought Experiment. Basically, the experiment features a cat, a flask of poison, and a radioactive source, placed in a sealed box. If an internal monitor detects radioactivity (i.e. a single atom decaying), the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead.! Yet, when one looks in the box, he finds the cat alive or dead. The thought experiment was brought forth to challenge the Copenhagen interpretation. I tried to mix these ideas with the life of the scientist and the intrinsic unpredictability of his science and his life. He is left in Verschränkung in-front of science and yet he finds a way to untangle them. To know more about the Schrodinger's Cat experiment, visit : Schrondinger's Cat Thought Experiment

Sunday, 21 July 2013


A plague of disorienting thoughts spread,
I loiter beside shores of forgotten life
And hopelessly gaze at a drifting horizon,
I feel my eyes moisten , maybe at loss
Or maybe with a strange paranoia.

Let the lives here feel the cold comfort
Of my blades. Each disappearing life
Enlightens my soul with deep delight,
I am a merciless killer, and a granter of
Life. The cycle of memories continue.

Fresh flowers bloom in my garden,
I struggle to smother my fervor,
Searching for thorns, I find many,
But the beauty of the fresh bud disrupt
The spells of agony. I feel the tranquil scent.

I keep the flowers beside her grave,
I killed her to keep me alive, the
Plague keep hauling sands from
My shores, eventually, I know, she
Would be devoured by the irate seas.

And yet, I know, even when
The last flower withers off,
Her eyes will remain enveloped within my heart,
Her smiles shall remain unscathed on my shores,
But her memories will go forever down,
The drains of a torrid plague.

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Senseless Treasures

Photo by Agustin Berrocal
Courtesy : The Mag

Built vaguely on meticulous ideals, his anxiety
Reached frivolous peaks. His tainted lips lost
All of its moist red and showed a tinge of lost gray,
The muddy vest, half torn by the gruesome times,
Was ripped apart by the beast that tasted gold.

Hardwork is a friend who guides you to places,
Maybe for him, the friend was the only one ever,
With him he walked before the Sun shined for him,
With him he returned after his daily venture,
With non-existent treasures.

He would dig and reach the other side of Earth
They said, but his insanity was often mistaken
For a patience that he ever unearthed. He dug
Like a mad man, he even found the bones of
A solitary maiden who was buried alive!

He dug, this day that year, he would dig, this day
Next year, he would have dug in the years to come,
Though destiny was buried somewhere close,
And eventually he found it too, he took it
Home and locked it with the maiden's bones.

All that glitters was not gold, but what he found
Indeed was. His eyes never did adjust to the
Intense light, his hands shivered, his heart stopped
Its relentless beats. All his life stood before him,
He took the treasure, locked it along with destiny,
And went to dig the next day!

Saturday, 13 July 2013

Tiger Vision

From the posters of 'Life of Pi'

Mystic monuments hugged together in the fog,
Thoughts dismembered into dissimilar notes
Of a melancholy Sitar, slowly continued its
Relentless echo. Stars sparkled up high,
With its calm delight I stepped foot into the dark.

A cold spread of algae showed me the way,
Winds blew until the shiver shook my walks,
When at times it gracefully recede, silence
Enveloped the breath of the forest, it tore
My heart and unsettled my mind, I doubted.

Gracefully, water kissed the meadows that night,
A crescent moon rose in the Eastern sky,
With its enchanting white, I saw her quiescent eyes,
They fixed upon mine. The forest opened itself before,
I was left forever with that consuming trance,
And walked through delirium into her enthralling gems.

Before reading it, see what inspired me to write it. If you really got to know how I felt like when writing it, play this on the background:

Tuesday, 9 July 2013

First Flight

First Flight of a Duckling
Credits :

Time strikes opportune,
Wings, rusted for long,
Shall now know the wind's tune,
Even before I take the dive,
I feel the air,
I ride!

A leap of faith,
Cause my eyes cannot see,
An assuring ground below,
My wings shake, mind fret, yet
I trust!

I feel my beaks cutting through,
The air is cold,
The descent; indecent,
The trust; in vain?
I wait.

I spread my wings,
It send shivers,
I gasp for a breath and flap,
I close my eyes,
Cause I cant handle the sight,
And with a strange and easy rhythm,
I fly!

Sunday, 7 July 2013

Chalks and Friendship Songs (A Memoir)

My School

 Loitering sans aim, and watching the drops of rain
Deepening the colors of my shirt, takes me
Back to an unreachable past where all senses
Of me still remain eternally spotless!

Days of balancing on slipping railway tracks,
Having one hand held firm at the flapping umbrella
And the other placed on unyielding shoulders,
With an assurance, matchless, and a sanctified
Feeling of enlightenment you get once you know life!

Now I walk along the same old tracks,
The stations where we sat forever, happy,
Seems to have grown dusted and alone.
A train scurry past, splashing water all about,
And the umbrella flies away with me onto the
Fearsome winds. I realize for an instant how,
Those calm shoulders eased even the fury of nature.

 Hunting for chalks beneath teacher's desk,
Flinging them merrily at passing girls,
We always ended up pointing each other,
Memories of love began at warfares,
Many would also end with a chill,
But we raged on with an intense fervor,
And went home proud with hands stained with chalks!

O, those classrooms, unmatched by any playgrounds!
Where balls made of paper and cloth sped past,
Angry teachers, where we rolled on like dogs
Fighting, booing, and augmenting insanity,
In those small rooms where we met erudition,
We lived, breathed and looked out together through
The windows and happily knitted up dreams!

All dreams remain in oblivion now,
As I walk on the same old paths,
With only memories to keep me by.

 The unending talks, the fast moving time,
The meaningless fears, and welcomed fests
Where we hung on sans sorrow as long as we wished.
Spells of rue when a friend cease to talk,
Those awkward moment when he still makes you laugh,
And a lifetime to cherish when reconciliation visited,
O, such were the days when you were truly loved.

Tears drench my clothes as much as the rains now,
Insatiable as hers when I saw her cry, the promise
That I made to myself to never let another tear line
Her face, still resonates in those amaranthine corridors,
I could hear her tones, I could hear her blatant laughs,
I stand by that corridor, alone now, with memories
Falling into my heart like those bewildered raindrops.

The timorous heart still continues to pound,
I remember those miniscule seconds when
Our eyes met in between, and the smile
When the realization diffuse that it was not
Just me, who felt the excessive flow of love.

When the call from the heavens reach my ears,
I shall remember that day, when she took my note,
And wrote, 'En mi Amigo!', and when I wrote
With stuttering hands, 'Forever' underneath it!

Dedicated to my 10th std classmates, 12th std classmates, and especially to Vivek PM, Arjun M and Aparna Prabhakaran, for giving me moments I would cherish for a lifetime!

Friday, 5 July 2013

Broken Ties

Seas of bottomless blames separates us now,
Words of intimacy sinks without effort,
The unbridged waters keep us apart,
And we glance without a tinge of love.

The towering anxiety hurls my thoughts,
Abrupt hues of blue fill my color pots,
I shall paint your face with my purest hands,
But seldom shall it turn into a masterpiece.

When each ship keeps moving into the port,
I look for your eventual answer,
Often I am left behind with a noisy group
Passing by, and my hands left unheld.

Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Labyrinths of Appetite

His feet ached with habitual walking,
Eyes crumbled as it faced light,
Silence transcended from his pale face,
It spoke more words than his concealed love!
He cursed the omniscient God,
Mocked at his discrepant blessings,
Blasphemed and inter-coursed.
Insanity orbited in his vicinity,
Inside it he remained with a stomach,
Always left unattended.

She let the butter-less bread to take flight,
Felonious totems spun about,
Her frolic laughs echoed with esteem,
The cold anomalies of life, went on
Without being repressed, while
The bread remained in dirt,
Before it was swallowed cleanly
By the Earth, and its hunger relieved.

Five trees staged a rebellion in a park,
They were denied clean water to drink
By the bourgeoisie nature of homo sapiens.
They ceased the supply of fruits,
Shed all leaves, which cleansed lives,
They even broke branches which
Sheltered a group of sparrows,
The strike never went unnoticed,
But all Gods were bribed,
And the sparrows remained without home

She was introduced amidst the spectra recently,
Her breaths never polluted the air,
Her cries never impaired your ears,
Her gentle sleeps never ceased to delight,
Between her tongues all tastes hid,
Many more came though from a woman's breast,
She would forget the tastes very soon;
Alas! Human memories are not so strong
As acute appetites!

Wreaths and Rebirths

Rebirth by Carrie White (Liquid Drop Art)

Stories of the globe never begins with birth,
Our lives are but a silent prologue to a show,
Which is an imperative destiny; we dance to
The tunes of nature only at our deathbed!

The horizon of existence never ends, whilst
Our perplexed soul sees curtains fall, it is
Only for another chapter to be presented forth.

Awaken to the reverberations of love, glide
Along the waters of friendship, snuggle beneath
Blankets in a perception of security, and yet
Disrupt the mind in the absurdness of solitude!
Life is as such, maybe to confuse us to take it

No love joins us after deaths, feelings separate,
Wreaths get burned with us, sans the smell
Of the flowers. It gets stolen by the funereal
Procession, along with disoriented nostalgia!

All equations remains unmatched at death,
All tedium grows into a silent delight,
We lay awaiting destiny, and our pact with
Life remains incomplete. So we wait,
For our final cells to grow into the roots,
We all die, We are all born again,
But not with an artist's perturbance, but
With a leaf's placid calm!

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

The Grandmaster

In a table of disoriented colors, the pawns
Were carefully stacked. White, black,
Then the few red ones he himself designed,
He made squares with cold accuracy, he made
Them white, black and some blue too.

Without the faint notions of anger,
He started his war against his opponent.
Against him sat an artist who commanded
All squares. Within his incredulous logic
All pawns tasted freedom, within his
Arduous commands, all knew reason!

But the board was his, and he held
The moral command. He divided all
Pawns according to the color they were,
He took the reds, as he gave them the
Privilege of existence. An outrage of
Colored war meant reds had a leeway.

Blacks fought whites, Whites fought Blacks,
Its in the nature, he knew. The dead pawns
Were hoarded in squares of blue,
A force of red removed the survivors from rue.
The king, queen and a set of guards stood erect.

The bureaucracy never fought, he knew,
They remained trapped, spellbound at
The deaths. An enigma of fear spread,
The opponents sweat dripped the board,
He looked for once at the board maker's eyes!

It glowed red, as red as the pawns he made,
He had a command that none could defeat,
He had a power that even he couldn't conceive,
He held with him no threads of pity,
Within his heart held the key that guided hate.

His submissive group tortured the king and the crew,
Monarchy is dead, they shouted out!
They killed the kings, black and white,
And raped the queens, black and white,
The horses were slaughtered and put in squares
Of blue, the bishops sided with anyone,
Who bolstered them and their meager lives.

The opponent was mocked and cursed by him,
He marched on around, and squares were made red,
More with blood than with paint. He gripped the ambiguous,
He reaped at their unrest. He slowly entangled minds
Between his board of accurate squares which was now
All red. He slowly closed the board and entrapped
All squares and colors. He bestowed an iniquitous laugh,
The opponent walked away in mourning, while
He ascended, to be exalted as the new Grandmaster!

A vague attempt to capture a small thought that occured in my mind. Here the opponent is God, or rather the love that existed in mankind. The new grandmaster who defeats God/love is the one thing that controls the world now, MONEY! A little more images used, I believe you could pick that up without me explaining. Again I am not sure on the power of delivery of the thought.

Monday, 1 July 2013

Unfathomable Mind

The Mag : Image by Musin Yohan

A harsh wind blew across the burning field,
It untied her hair, sans her own knowledge,
Sweat mixed evenly with her tears,
Yet the hands never stopped its destined motion,
It endured the wind, the Sun and the life.

The hay that fed on the Sun's angry fever,
Rested lifeless on her head, she poached
For all her resilience, took it out and placed
It above the stuffed up hay. It clouded her
Thoughts so that she never saw her husband
And how he were as alive as the hay.

It never moved her mind to see the uncultivated
Fields, the waterless canals, the bottomless wells
And the endless Sun. She saw it all in her beloved's
Pale eyes. It hugged her each night, and its warmth
Betrayed her and her eventful plans.

Last night the eyes forgot its hug, rather, it made
Her cold. All the years of being loved seemed
To be lost in the deep labyrinths of solitude that
Laid before. She saw herself planted in the fields,
A lonely crop that no one cared to water.

No one carried coffins of the peasants,
No one cared to grant them a peaceful rest,
With the shovel, that granted seeds life, 
She gave her husband a loving goodbye.

Before the harsh winds blew and the field burned,
The shovel dug up a hopeful canal, and the stacks
Of hay carefully carried, busied her quivering mind,
Her hair, carefully tied by her beloved was undone,
It swung along, with the melancholy winds.