Debates; Malecdictions; Tiffs -
Words roll about,
Zooming in and out,
Spewing manifold jargons around.
Sometimes
Shattered words tangle up in
Romance,
But don't bother:
They get back to order soon enough.
Mysterious, still -
A Powerful lassitude burgeoned,
As '-logy's pressed forth.
Pages Yellowed;
History googled;
Scripts hyperlinked.
Now:
Language,
Devoid of Content,
Flapped this way and that.
Every second,
The world is shrinking.
Still, invisible clicks determine
The right and the wrong.
Question:
The '-logy' spirit
Rules me readily;
I sit quietly in the web,
Drawing patterns around,
The prey(?) is yet to come!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Of Colours, among Other Things
It's all about time - right time, and right decision.
She was looking at a girl, a ten year old girl with her crayons sitting under a tree with her aaya, while Ravi wistfully talked to her about their fraying relationship. Sometimes, he felt that he doesn't have enough words to articulate his feelings. After a while, he realized that she is not paying any attention at all to his words.
"You never listened. You..You will never understand what i think. You don't even give a try. I'm sorry Padma. I think it's time we re- considered our decisions."
She gave a sudden shudder. When she was back to her senses, there was none other than herself left in that nook of the park. She tried to piece together what just passed. The girl with her crayons looked very pretty in her pink out fit. Padma remembered how much she loved pink when she was a girl. Even now her first preference is pink; a soft, hallucinatory shade of it that mildly rejects all so-called realities, with a sad tingle. What else are colours for if not to enable your rejections of blacks, whites and greys? All of a sudden she felt that the whole world is laughing at her... at her unfitness. She started thinking that she is not the kind of person this world accommodates. As a hand touched her, she came back to her senses as if sucked outward from a dark well even as you were falling in. The girl in the pink frock stood by her side with her drawing book and crayons. There were tears on her face. Padma stared at her in puzzlement, and sat there, her mind completely blank and helpless to do anything, about anything.
She was looking at a girl, a ten year old girl with her crayons sitting under a tree with her aaya, while Ravi wistfully talked to her about their fraying relationship. Sometimes, he felt that he doesn't have enough words to articulate his feelings. After a while, he realized that she is not paying any attention at all to his words.
"You never listened. You..You will never understand what i think. You don't even give a try. I'm sorry Padma. I think it's time we re- considered our decisions."
She gave a sudden shudder. When she was back to her senses, there was none other than herself left in that nook of the park. She tried to piece together what just passed. The girl with her crayons looked very pretty in her pink out fit. Padma remembered how much she loved pink when she was a girl. Even now her first preference is pink; a soft, hallucinatory shade of it that mildly rejects all so-called realities, with a sad tingle. What else are colours for if not to enable your rejections of blacks, whites and greys? All of a sudden she felt that the whole world is laughing at her... at her unfitness. She started thinking that she is not the kind of person this world accommodates. As a hand touched her, she came back to her senses as if sucked outward from a dark well even as you were falling in. The girl in the pink frock stood by her side with her drawing book and crayons. There were tears on her face. Padma stared at her in puzzlement, and sat there, her mind completely blank and helpless to do anything, about anything.
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