starry skies i see,clouds i see
i see darkness,or does it see me?
walking on the pavement
i do stop at every crossroads,
dad says go straight
cousin says stop not,keep walkin.
i choose to remain still
or does stillness choose me?
i laugh i smile
i doubt if its gonna stay for a while
i say what da hell..its me
THERE is no space for doubt or ambiguity.

eye on da i

i see light when it gets dark
erring is what am famous for
mark me wen i say i luv vodka more
add somewhat of a twist
dat gives u my life in a gist
don't go by d looks,it mite move u wi pity..
i ask jus 1 thing...can u see me?

hunger never dies

On the far end of the road there is a figure of a woman walking towards me.The distance never seems to reduce,we are always apart,despite the walking we are doing.I am walking towards her,she is walking towards me,yet i can't touch her or discern who she is.The sky poses a gloomy background for such a script,clouds seem to growl in disgust,there is a commotion amidst the vultures .The prey is elusive,the cheetah in the savannah is still unsuccessful,it always seems to live in hunger...

Meera woke me up from this dreadful dream today.We have known each other for 5 years,married for 2 years.Our days at the university brought us in ignorance of each other.When we first met at the department library we knew each other best,from that day onwards I grew a stranger in front of her eyes,I have no clue about what she feels.Why does she need to talk to other people about our feelings for each other?Most of my preoccupations ponder over this issue.Meera is more sociable than I am,she goes to meet her friends,almost daily.For me keeping in touch with an old friend is an absurdity,Meera does it with fair eloquence.I miss out on talking to her ,about how beautiful she is,how the morning sky acts as a catalyst to a possible romance.

Meera immediately announced her intentions of waking me up.

"Listen,we have to go to shop with the Patel's,I told Veena Patel that we will be spending the day with them and you have taken the day off,don't let me down this time honey."Oh!I felt a terrible urge to run away from my home,from this city.What was happening to our relationship was quite evident to me.My life as a teacher forced me to ask myself,what was i teaching the students? I their teacher,was in a state of self-doubt,could love be limited to a limit?To Meera?Meera went for her usual morning jog in the district park,giving me time to think,about whom?I was hungry,moving towards the kitchen when the doorbell rang with a peculiar tone.

As I opened the door I met a deceitful illusion,it was Sonia.

when someone questions one's will
when life becomes so mundane
I decided,I was hungry still...

pavitra

The evening sky was no less than poetry.The crimson hue of the land above brought a calm joy to one's face,especially that of Pavitra's,standing on the third-storey balcony.Peace could'nt have found a better time to descend,solitude knew no bounds.Pavitra smiled back at the sparrows walking on the pavements of the sky.The picture on the far left of the balcony reminded Pavitra of the generosity of the nature,the lush green trees foregrounded the colleges of the University.Her friend next door waved at her only to get back a stolid countenance.Pavitra was too drowned in the horizon,dancing sparrows,the lush greens on her left.The coffee was getting cold,Pavitra scribbled on her notepad,documenting the visible surroundings and its invisible beauty."The Invisible" captivated her thought.What could lie beyond the crimson sky,behind the greens,wre the sparrows really content at the freedom they displayed?

Pavitra concluded writing and smiled at the coffee ,lying ignored.She noticed her Father walking towards the building.Pavitra put down the notepad and jumped from the balcony,releiving herself from the visible.Her Father cried in shock,at the disbelief of having just witnessed the tragic turn the Flower he had nurtured had taken,the nieghbours found it beyond comprehension."Such a good girl she was!",said Mr.Murthy,sobbing.Pavitra had enterd"the invisible",she could dance with the sparrows,look beyond the greens,she was happy.

Her Father opened the notepad:

I have seen what is all to be seen
witnessed the altercations within a being,
I need to look beyond,watch what has not been
seek what is not sought,Father,i have lived like a queen
I shall continue to live,metaphysics is what I mean...

ramon

The man in green checks seems to be measured in his approach to women around him.The busy market street of london has this man singularly distinguished as it wants to highlight his idio-syncratic intent.It is amazingly recurrent in social history when characters with maliciously eccantric dispositions distance themselves from the innocent rest.Ramon,as the man concerned is known,has been wanting to ask himself what it means to live and how living has got to do with his existence?He himself has felt numerously how his individual presence has wrecked the living solitude in people around him.Since his adolescent days,his father has been calculatively distanced from him,in terms of the streotypical emotional scale.The dichotomy between two souls,who ought to have been more magnetic,is sometimes the reason behind an individual's agony or rather a question,a question Ramon has been asking incessantly.The distance between him and his father has stolen the comfort-level that he previously shared with the society.He started asking himself as to how sanely the world around him was living and how he himself was providing an anti-thesis to it.No person was affected by the void he met.Why is he the only one to suffer the pangs of a lost relationship, a relationship that ought to have been the fulcrum of his life...

Ramon noticed a lady in pink on the far-side of the market,waiting patiently.Ramon was astounded at the amount of patience that the lady churned-out while standing still,jealousy had found a home.His hands flirted with the breeze and his eyes fixed like a numb star at the opposing lady.She had put a sledge-hammer on his peaceful abode.He had started to deal with a consistent restlessness in his life.His gaze briefly considered others but zeroed -in on that lady in pink.He trembled in doubt whether to put an end to her life or not,this seemed like a priced moment to do so.Fifteen minutes had met the clock as his fingers yearned for the pistol in his left pocket.At the genesis of a possible murder ,a man walked upto the lady,he was his father.

Ten years later,in a prison,Ramon penned down few lines,which coalesces tragedy with serendipity:-

I win the confidence of a dead soul
looking at the faces of strangers
i begin to wonder about my role
starting to doubt who that was,
i seem to realise,no one else could be
as dead as i...



S.SRINIVASAN IYER