snowflakes of ashes

Feet ascend the dingy stairs
if my aural sense could be seen
the visibility is null
i touch those frigid fingers, possessed in cold
devoid of warmth of the soul
mind rolls back to the memories
her expression of love can be gauged by the spoons of sugar
that aided the creation of super sweetened chai
the memories roll like 'sunday family' flicks
It's said when you age
when the bodyclock reaches the threshold of maturity
the mind goes backwards
her medium of communication roamed unexplored territories
only the toddler could understand her feelings
the kid reigned where everyone failed
as she shares a secret conversation
the frequencies which can never meet our rational minds
now the infant tries to reach out to her again but the signals turn dry
held on the shoulders of four
she prepares for the final journey
Enrobed in the heap of damp woods
the flame now pierces through...
the bones which are laminated in the layer of shrivelled skin
tears of remorse trickles down the eye
remorse of time depriving me with her
when she needed us the most

the air is now consumed in the snowflakes of ashes

Glutton for sedation

Stand staring d room, drowned in the mist of indigo hues
the sterilized metal coated pods shine in the nascent light
now that the misery in the world amplifies
Man makes sure his sense doesn't burst up in flames
so yea the pods
the pods picture themselves as tiny metal warts
sprouting out of the skin
like a subway staircase leading to the veinal railway with
brain as the rendezvous point
Entertainment comes in the form of syringes
TV is the secret ingredient of those sedating hormones
Tequila worms are shrunk to the size of blood platelets
green shimmering fluid 'x' grins from the globular containers
fabricated blasphemy cements the walls
The walls around the emotions that strikes the neurons
the senses are tranquilized
as the walls are reinforced with layers of itself
the battle is won
smirks flows through the face of the

glutton for sedation

Monochromatic rainbows

The dark corridor and your beauty lits where the horizon ends
walking through the blinding darkness with a hope inspired by the aura
as the steps fuel the desperation
the white silhouette beckons
hope is now a certainty
the walks are now strides
but now you fade off like a death of a supernova
with each beat of my heart you dissolve in the darkness
the charm vapourises as i reach the end
I weep in agony
turned to the deafening silence
and there you are shimmering again in white where the perspective ends...

A Night with the Piper and the Princess

whoa! so ther goes a sexy start to a weekend. The rumours of Jethro Tull and Anoushka Shankar's concert bein cancelled /postponed/ stopped/ will begin etc . finally came to an end this friday at Shamukananda Hall. A big fan of this famous progressive rock band seeing them live was a privilege, wht next ? well kept my fingers crossed n wished the tickets dont go 'SOLD OUT', reached the venue 3 hrs early to get the tickets and voila ! it's here with me grinning. So there i was scouting the whole place .. taking a look at the event volunteers ... (damn the gals were hot!! ). a big boxes of Lays stax chips kept at one corner and i was thinking wudn't it b disturbing for anoushka to hear those crunching muching sounds at the auditorium, but yea they were smart enough to give it at the end of the show, people were grabbing it not minding to sacrifice the gentleman in them, but yea seems the gurls were prepared for tht.2nd floor and i was looking at the stage which is going to drown in the ambience of world renowned musicians. A 1 minute silence for all the victims of black wednesday and the stage was set for classical music. Like the horse, the rook the pawns and the queen the musicians were pegged on the stage waiting for the favourite move.The auditorium amazingly had a pin-drop-slience and each note played by Anoushka was crystal clear to the ears, thanks to the amazing sound arrangement and acoustics. The 'pep-up' jugalbandi lit up the audience and they craved for more. Next twas Ian anderson on stage introducing and even seasoning a bit of humor as the band members get to their thrones. Ian had an amazing stage presence and the oldies look was so deceptive as compared to the energy they radiated in the hall. They played their and my favs 'mother goose', 'heavy horses' and 'thick as a brick' and was in a 'bang-my-head-like-no-one-

watching' state and that did raise some eyebrows of uncles and aunties sitting besides me.My mind was already screaming out "paisa vasool" when anousha shankar reappeared on stage and twas time for the hindustani classical to fuse with the western celtic music and believe me nothing felt out of place even as the music came from the two majestically different parts of the globe. The flute triggered an imagination of the high swiss alps with the piper playing the instrument perched on the top and the earthly sounds of the sitar spewed vibrant colors on the walls of my imagination.The 'Tea with Anoushka' session finally came to an end with the classic 'Locomotive breath' rumbling with soft plucks of the string from the sitar.The ended up bein the best was all musicians getting their space for the compositions and one gobbling up the talents of the already multi-faceted individuals. The sound setup was mindblowing, from the distortions to the raw acoustics each tone was a treat to the ears.The day ended up with every1 getting lays stax 'cream and cheese' chips as the return gifts
well all i can say is
Bless are the ones who have seen the gods..

Natural born cynics???

'Eye on the TV, cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor it happens to be

Like:

"Killed by the husband"
"Drowned by the ocean"
"Shunned by his own son"
"She used a poison
In his tea
and he kissed her goodbye"

Thats my kind of story

Its no fun till someone dies'

started off with some lines from the song Vicarious by Tool. The reason y i wrote it it because cynicism creeping in people or lemme use a more diplomatic word "sensationalism" ....ohhh yea everyone craves for it rite from the toddler to the gramps. A soap opera TRP goes for a toss if ther aint no sensation in it, a husband needs to have more than 3 wives ... like each wife contributing to 25% of TRP's .. n yea it's a bonus if 1 of them is a vamp. Surf thru the idiot box n u'd find a ponytailed guy screaming his butt out "kya aap iss shakhs ko pehchante hain??", no wonder 'Sansani' has turned bout to b a cash cow for Aaj Tak. the 27*7 news channels are just waiting to squeeze out grapevine for the semi-conscious zombies who crave for summin to happen ... but hey it's keepin urself informed right?? We needta b informed bout the wrestler Khali's new moves, we needta b informed bout the kid who was stuck in well for 5 days ;cameras of all news channels trying to reach wher even the kid hasn't stepped in, we needta b informed bout some big-shot's weeding wher wine was in room temperature n champagne was served in red wine goblet, a reality program aint tht happening if ther's no 1 crying the producer wants the cameraman to zoom in to the glycerine tears .. wants the editor to add a grayscale tone for the amplified saddenss... "grey dammit i want more grey", "why's tht kid smiling, i want her to cry", sensation .... sensation... MTV roadies wnt work without a delhi spoiled bitch


yes why dnt u join me for a cup of sansani khabar....

The Epitaph of a cassette

Seriously i just cant believe how the thing which was a rage among the youth in 90's became extinct. the audio cassette... cute little thingy wrapped in a loop of brown tape .... the jaan of every walkman ... comes under the most preferred birthday present among friends. Well, it just remains as a showpiece in the music stores. People have also tried a creative approach to the thousands of stacked cassettes below the drawer... now they are been used as novelty furniture... like maybe a tea-table or wall accessory. With the advent of CD's, DVD's n MP3 players ...looks like our beloved cassette has to dig it's own grave.Now tht the cassette players in automobiles are replaced or used as ashtrays... lets have a moment of silence for our brown-tape pal. R.I.P
(btw tell u summin they make excellent novelty furniture ... LOLs)

That recharge of emotions when u met ol' pals

Ok here u are working 12 hrs a day, the computer screen staring at u and giving that saddistic 'ur-my-slave' looks , u feel like a bot assigned to do certain things not to forget doing those things under freaking deadlines. So an angelic holiday comes in between to save u from the mental turbulence. What do u do???? spend extra time playing ur recently downloaded games or orkutting with imaginary profiles ??? aargh ... get a life. how bout catching up with ol' pals? sounds gud , hell yeah it does, come on maybe they have a holiday just like u or maybe they too wish they'd get one day to get away from the materialistic world. It's rejuvenating meeting with pals who always make u feel like a star, pals who would share the bill from the awesome food u just had from ur favorite eating joint , pals with whom u cant stop taking photos n posing with , pals with whom u cant do nautanki n still not get embarrassed, it's a recharge of ur emotions. The day suddenly comes to an end and realise u had another milestone in ur memory.
So the next time u get a holiday from the monotonous 'action-replay' days of work..
make sure ur plan includes meeting up those ol' pals ...