I landed on the wrong planet

The bell chimed as he walked in for the second time. "Hey! It's been a while," said the man at the bar. "I need a drink," said he as he shook his head, trying to dispel the uncomfortable truth repeatedly spanking him sensuously. And that is how we find our hero, sipping something muddy on another planet.

Name:
Location: Yaadhum Oore. Yaavarum Kelir

I am a bad imitation of don Quixote.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Mogathai Kondruvidu

Kill the lust, or stop my breath
Smite the body, or banish the thoughts.
Discipline the senses, or demolish the flesh
You that does everything in all the worlds.

Destroy the bonds, or remove the burden of life
Cleanse my thoughts, or make me a corpse.
Oh, why do I have to depend on these mere mortals?
You that is the life force inside everything.

Will my heart not calm down? Will this deceptive body not leave me?
O Mother! Will the tears of devotion not flow?
In the flood that is your love, will this dog's thirst not quench?
You that is too precious to be uttered - the Omnipresent.

A crude crude translation of my favorite song of Bharathiyar - Mogathai Kondruvidu (Mahaasakthikku Vinnappam). To put this here in this toned down form is almost an insult to the great man - but I just wanted this to be here.

Friday, July 06, 2007

The boy from long ago

The birds are chirping. The sky is mixture of blue and grey. The sun peeks out every now and then. There is a chill breeze that whips across your face. Except, of course, your face is not there.

There are no faces outside. All of them are getting a whiff of electronic breeze; the ears are strained for the whirr of the motor in the CPU; the eyes are feasting themselves on the dancing lines on the monitor; the hand lovingly grasps the mouse, caressing it and coaxing it to do beautiful things. Doggone with the wind. The wind is the past. So is the sunlight.

How many paper boats do you see on the puddles? How many kites stuck in the lamp posts? How many people figuring out the shapes of the clouds? How many stolen kisses under the tree?

Is this the only life that is out there? Sometimes, I just want to rip my shirt apart and wander in the nude - just to ruffle their ordered world a bit. How come we have imprisoned ourselves in this cage? Starched shirts, combed hairs, polished shoes - these are the shackles that bind us. Every order I obey feels like another turn of the key on the padlock.

And in moments like these - I see his face. The ten-year-old me, come to mock. He smiles gleefuly, holding an Enid Blyton in one hand and a lollypop on the other. His shirts are muddy and his knees are green. His tongue is a violent shade of purple. I hate that kid. I hate him for having given up so easily.

"What the f*** happened to you!" I shout at him. "You were supposed to rule the world! You were supposed to fly like an eagle. What the f*** happened to you?"

He smiles again, uncomprehendingly. The little rascal! How dare he give up on me? How dare he take the path that was trodden by so many? He was supposed to head for the woods, holding someone's hands. He had no right to lose that someone in the crowd. He had no right to lose himself in the crowd.

He jumps over a puddle, then comes back to jump right in.