Maya Monologues
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Monday, December 17, 2012
i
A frozen scream
Whirling unrooted
Who am i?
No beginning
No end
A question
The answer waits
The cue
still to come
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Who am I?
Just a passing thought as I went through old forwards about
friendship and love and blah blah. And that thought from the millions teeming
in space got me thinking.
Somehow age has caught up. Most of my life I've been
a gypsy at heart but as time passed and bills increased and possessions
accumulated, there was no choice but to start taking root someplace. And that
was the beginning of the end. An end to the spontaneous adventure called life.
Now it’s all about making it to the school bus on time, paying bills, grocery
shopping and TV dinners. And in the scramble to get all this done, slowly the
dreams have faded into an indistinct blur. Somewhere, the person that was
supposed to be and the person that I am today are as different as chalk and
cheese.
In the last two years since I've been a stay-at-home mom, it’s mostly
been about everyone else. I thought I would get some time to just be. Well that
remained what it was, just a thought. The last couple of years have been a
flurry of tending to sickness, dealing with moving homes, not once but twice,
deaths of two parents, one kids’ all important public exam.
With so much
happening, I sort of sent my feelings to some place far behind, always thinking
that I would get back to it when I had less to deal with. And that day has
never really come. I bit my tongue and withheld nasty retorts and put my
desires aside to accommodate the family’s demands. And somewhere in all this, I've forgotten who I am.
the monster of nasty thoughts
Sleep deprivation, cranky kid, stressed out husband and an
almost zero bank account. Just the perfect mix for a tear fest. Had one of
those rare days when everything just caught up and I got caught right in it.
Financial bankruptcy loomed large as I envisaged sinking into a quagmire of
bills. Desperation just found its biggest victim.
Actually
as I type, it seems silly to have magnified all problems to the extent that I
imagined it. OK granted that the situation is not that cheerful and there have
been better times. But all said and done, it’s not as bad as I imagined it. You
see, these nasty thoughts just have a way of getting larger and larger as you
think about it and you just can’t seem to stop. It gets bigger and bigger as
you quiver and tremble in front of that gigantic monster until one good cry
sends the monster flailing down the tear-floods. And sometimes, that’s all that
is needed. A big flood to wash that scary monster into nothingness.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
the second hand story
It’s been three months since the move
to a new city and things are somewhat in place. School and college sorted for
the kids, yoga class for yours truly and a routine that is beginning to show
some signs of falling into a rhythm.
The local library has been a little
haven for browsing and taking a book home to read. This little library is part
book store, stationery supplier, bill collector, newspaper vendor, DVD renter etcetera.
The books are lined on dusty shelves, not
all with their spines facing out and in no particular order. Most of the books
are dusty and some have pages missing. The books all seem to have been acquired
second hand and that’s the charm for me.
Each week, I pick a couple of books,
sometimes more and it’s interesting to see the inscriptions. Some have just a
name, others have a date in addition to the name, some are gifts. The ones in
the last category are the ones I find interesting. It’s the stuff of
imagination.
Perhaps one of them was a secret gift,
only for the one it was addressed to. Maybe, it was a parting gift from a
friend. Could it be that it was from a friend who no longer was a friend?
The answers will probably forever
remain hidden and those pages would eventually disintegrate into nothingness. Like
all of our lives. The brilliance is not in the history of the life but in the
fullness of the present.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
non-language
How do you experience without language?
I don't know.
Perhaps, that would be the experience...
I don't know.
Perhaps, that would be the experience...
Monday, October 24, 2011
Dance of the kite
In a city teeming with millions
One kite flies
Soaring through the smog
Dancing to its own song
Sitting at my window
I watch the dance of the wind and the kite
At a distance, I see a boy
Who sits on the tank
Gently orchestrating the dance
I am caught up in the play
Between invisible string and vibrant kite
I watch till the kite vanishes
Into the sky
Household chores beckon
I finish and rush to see the dance
There is no more kite
And no more boy
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
i
I evolve into i
slowly and surely
as the flower blooms
countless books
myriad thoughts
paralysing fears
do not halt
the blossom of life
microcosm and the macrocosm
I the seed
I the fruit
All at once
nothing
everything
Friday, September 23, 2011
Ganesh Chathurthi
the drum and the drummer
fused into
hearbeats and drumbeats
drumbeats and heartbeats
within without
one hypnotic trance
the revellers sway
cymbals crash
intoxicated dancers
unending chanters
the idols ride in splendour
a watery grave awaits
the throngs in wild abandon
celebrate the deity's farewell
i watch from my window
a distance very near
i see him wink
as his potbelly sinks
into the muddy pond
by the busy street
fused into
hearbeats and drumbeats
drumbeats and heartbeats
within without
one hypnotic trance
the revellers sway
cymbals crash
intoxicated dancers
unending chanters
the idols ride in splendour
a watery grave awaits
the throngs in wild abandon
celebrate the deity's farewell
i watch from my window
a distance very near
i see him wink
as his potbelly sinks
into the muddy pond
by the busy street
nameless
i'm a stranger to my name
i see the letters strung
together a name
that's what they call
but whom do they hark
how do you name
a river of thoughts
constantly changing course
carving new beds
drying some old
the tag that binds
one constricting body
i go by no name
how can i
there is no i
i see the letters strung
together a name
that's what they call
but whom do they hark
how do you name
a river of thoughts
constantly changing course
carving new beds
drying some old
the tag that binds
one constricting body
i go by no name
how can i
there is no i
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