The grandiose of freedom

                  Freedom in comparison to something,

                   because of something

          from something

     to do something

                 not to do something

                            as a thought

                       as a feeling

                 as a notion

          as an action

            as a bestowment

                   as a dream

                       Here lie all the struggles

                          In these leashes and loops

Spontaneous and deliberate

While working outside
the day was
pre lunch  and post lunch

Now in the  break
the day is
breakfast, lunch and dinner

Though time and timelessness
are simple yet profound concepts
human beings trivialise it with
a mundane structure

structureless means spontaneous
which is being timeless again
vocally structureless is a structure

spontaneous and structureless
is the goal
Goal defeats spontaneity
Nice fix it is 
 

There and then and here and now

Patterns are patterns
whether they are for resistance
or for acceptance
for love or for everything else

Some times, I am an island,
all my sides covered with
glorious self absorption or
thinly spread contempt
for the others

I am also a light tower
relentlessly beaming light
into distant sea
while it is dark near by
in the hope of greater good

Many a days I am a dejavu
repeating the days and times
and echoing the patterns of the past
and realising only after the repetition

I am on some days,
the green box in the attic
With the books and smells and scents
of distant past, preserved for
eternity

I am a remote on some days
with buttons displayed
for anger, sadness and
stand - by suspended

There are days when I am
the stream that flows taking
floatsam along with
scores of living - thriving creatures

Many days I am woman
who feels all the above and
wonders whether this is dejavu!

Lets run and lets not

Running away is so exciting,
from problems, from people
and from the self from time to time,

The adrenalin rush of panic
and fear of being caught unguarded
for some,
of elaborately woven rationalisations for some,
makes the act a lofty mission

Theory scares some, action scares some,
silence scares some, speech scares some,
morning scares some, night scares some,
love scares some, indifference scares some,

Invisible hierarchies cleverly
conditioned by the socialisation process
leaves each craving for a pat on the back
from the highest order and a notion
that the point representing pinnacle
is perfection

we are the perfect points and
we are the lowest rungs,

I am you and you are me
And we are a dialectical whole
in the twilight of opposites

Searching for Sylvia I found Shiva

Bell jar seems poetic
beautiful and symbolic
of a woman in turmoil
I thought ....

Looked at many and
they all seemed
Phallic

searching for one symbol
I found another!
Bell jar forever is changed
for me!

As a comment to the previous post this emerged..

I slept on my arms
tightened around my knees
which are resting on the
part of earth I am aware of

I can hear myself breath,
live life one beat at a time,
knowing that air around me
will be there,
the resting head will be up,

Loving my own smell
and loving myself a bit more
I love you as a part of the
earth we stand on,
the air we breathe on
and the scent of you a bit more ...

After watching bridges of Madison county

A woman sees a man,
he sees her
they start talking and talking
and talking,
they discover that their tastes are
some what similar and dissimilar

similarities relieve them
dissimilarities excite them
with a celebration of these
they start walking together

The child in each yearns for the child,
the childish excitement creates
many a mad moment,

The adult in each demands the adult
in the other to be responsive
in the carnal exploration
adulthood seems handy

years come and years go
similarities help in routine setting
dissimilarities lead to spoken or
unspoken conflicts

Talking turns to be around routines
Fighting around spoken and the unspoken
the inner child is silent and wants to sulk
imposing on itself a childish silence

Adult is consumed in inane things
of holding and running something
bigger than her and him put together
called life and life needs

one fine day,
a woman sees a man
he sees her,
they talk and talk and talk


How to hold on to this?

I know you

It is tasty to do that oh yes
to do the guessing game
of understanding others,
Ha, look now I am believing
my own fiction
I know this is the truth now

Now I know you better than
you know yourself I believe
Why you do what you do
and I have pegged all your motives to a tee
mind you, you need not talk to me about it
it is not necessary

I will pile my theories on you
in case you need to talk
then you only need to clarify
or justify or explain or sulk like a
bad sport!

may be this is why they say
god is in me
I create you, him and her
in my mind and
It is difficult to let go of this super power!

Geometry of life

A line, a circle, a square and a triangle,
decided to have a party,
Line tried to measure the length of all,
circle tried the circumference,
triangle tried the angles
and the square tried equality

It is not easy to measure or
measure up to others
but still we do it like
geometric figures!
Are we two dimensional?

Memory remains ...

I heard his voice .......
Remembered huddling in bed
for hours talking, fighting and silent
Remembered that we used to
take walks and I shared aloud
what I thought of the young sun or green grass
his friend or something other
Joyous mornings they were

Remembered sitting on the cycle front
with him pedalling it
reaching our secret spot
known only to him and me

Remembered the spontaneous merry making
the protective hand on my shoulder while we crossed the road
the long letters during his absence
the promises we made without saying a word

Remembered him in my night gown
in my new dresses with a goofy smile

remembered them yet again!

Unholy silence

Words – un spoken have a life of their own
They sing and dance constantly on
the skeleton and the rattling
makes the bones porous

Unspoken words suddenly
shoot up one day and come out
as flustered tears for unexpected
reasons – looking at a TV soap

They sometimes sit heavily
on the chest and
make the heart pump faster
to shake them off

Some day, they sit in the stomach
blocking hunger,
they circle the eyes and they
paralyse the laughter muscles

Unspoken yet ringing as loud as
bells they make the hearing obscure

Unspoken words have a life of
their own!

Needs and the needless

The same old same old same oldness of things
the tiring vicious trot
a conscious step forward and
an unconscious step backward

Energy bursting forth while passionately sweeping the floor
and scraping the muck off the bathroom tiles
a meditation of sweat....
the cloud of despair descends
as the oscillation between extremes of
indifference and attachment starts

All tried and tested emotions but still gripping
love to return to the sweetness of labour
which bursts forth like a shower of flowery rain
and a clear blue sky follows through

This is how it started decades ago ..

Wonderland: (1994)

My wonderland was Grandma’s Kitchen,

So many shiny utensils,

Various stoves,

The scent of strong coffee,

Delicious things cooking continuously,

It was so alive!!

She was like a witch,

Desperate on preparing her

Priced Concoction…

Mother’s kitchen is more

Organised and tidy,

Cooks fried rice and channa batura,

Takes time and watches,

Santa Barbara in between

Cooker whistles

Seems happy but sometimes appears

Like an exhausted Goddess,

I am sure my own wonderland

Would be different

With efficient gas burners,

Oven, grinder, food processor,

Time saving recipes and

A man to share the burden,

But, on hearing it,

Why is the witch laughing and

The goddess amused??