Paper, filter and tobacco
White and brown
Sleek and slender.
Flickering embers burn.
Acrid vapours inhaled
Rush into a dead head.
Smoke dances around
Seductively,
Swirling, meandering, sinuous moves;
Patterns emerge
Of entwined limbs
Playing coupling games
Of temptation.
Gyrating fumes
Unwind taut nerves.
Grey ash crumbles
As do walls of control…
Calm and quiet prevails.
Addicted???
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Schools
A pertinent heated discussion tonight at dinner….
As if it wasn’t bad enough that I had talked non stop for over three hours trying to knock some sense into people who cannot differentiate between plural nouns and corresponding plural verbs!!!
Manu is two years old…time for that all important decision about which school to send him to. I am most disappointed that all my grand plans of letting him enjoy his childhood till he’s four have gone down the stinkiest drain possible! For one, admissions for children born before December ’05 end this October, when Manu turns a wee 3!!
My husband and I share the same alma mater. At least the last four years of my school life. a school that I associate with all the things wrong with the current education system. A school that believed that a child is intelligent only if he/she performed academically, a school that actually had a separate section for the average students, a school that did not know how to spell extra curricular activity, a school that believes in testing you every alternate week, a school that believes that interaction with the opposite sex will only distract you from academia, a school that respects only math, physics, chemistry, biology and computer science as subjects worthy of merit…oh I could just go on!!! Essentially a school I detest.
Aniruddh loves it!
It is indeed strange that being a better student at school than he was, I hate the school more than he does. I do not want my son to suffer academic pressure and be taught that if he stays back in his own country and chooses a non professional course after school, it is because he isn’t intelligent enough. I want my son to play, to fall, to open his books when he wants to and to learn in a way that he enjoys!
Is that asking for too much???
As if it wasn’t bad enough that I had talked non stop for over three hours trying to knock some sense into people who cannot differentiate between plural nouns and corresponding plural verbs!!!
Manu is two years old…time for that all important decision about which school to send him to. I am most disappointed that all my grand plans of letting him enjoy his childhood till he’s four have gone down the stinkiest drain possible! For one, admissions for children born before December ’05 end this October, when Manu turns a wee 3!!
My husband and I share the same alma mater. At least the last four years of my school life. a school that I associate with all the things wrong with the current education system. A school that believed that a child is intelligent only if he/she performed academically, a school that actually had a separate section for the average students, a school that did not know how to spell extra curricular activity, a school that believes in testing you every alternate week, a school that believes that interaction with the opposite sex will only distract you from academia, a school that respects only math, physics, chemistry, biology and computer science as subjects worthy of merit…oh I could just go on!!! Essentially a school I detest.
Aniruddh loves it!
It is indeed strange that being a better student at school than he was, I hate the school more than he does. I do not want my son to suffer academic pressure and be taught that if he stays back in his own country and chooses a non professional course after school, it is because he isn’t intelligent enough. I want my son to play, to fall, to open his books when he wants to and to learn in a way that he enjoys!
Is that asking for too much???
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Firsts...
So went to Goa…
Time of firsts…
First vacation for our tiny family.
First stay in a hotel for Manu
First ever sea side vacation for me…in 30 years have only visited the hills
First time I dared to walk across a shaky log bridge across a stream of water and didn’t faint half way through.
First time I wished I was home and not deal with my little one’s homesickness.
First time in a pool with my water loving son.
First time Ani and I did not fight during a vacation.
First time I heard my son order an ice-cream of his own accord.
First time I saw my son mimic the airhostess showing us the emergency exits.
First time the crew addressed me as Mrs. Sankaran as we deplaned without any introduction.
Time of firsts…
First vacation for our tiny family.
First stay in a hotel for Manu
First ever sea side vacation for me…in 30 years have only visited the hills
First time I dared to walk across a shaky log bridge across a stream of water and didn’t faint half way through.
First time I wished I was home and not deal with my little one’s homesickness.
First time in a pool with my water loving son.
First time Ani and I did not fight during a vacation.
First time I heard my son order an ice-cream of his own accord.
First time I saw my son mimic the airhostess showing us the emergency exits.
First time the crew addressed me as Mrs. Sankaran as we deplaned without any introduction.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
To Let
It was my mess.
Nurtured with near maternal care.
You chose to make it your home.
Spring cleaning,
Dust masks,Broomsticks, Rags, galore,
I worked like a maniac.
You couldn’t move comfortably.
I threw away the old armchair,
The springless couch,
The battered bed,
The weatherworn closet,
All into nothingness.
Flowers bloomed bright,
Sunlight filtered through the window panes,
Fresh air cleared the musty odour.
I savoured very sparkling inch
And then I let you in,
Into a sterile, prepped up abode.
You persisted,
Insisted,
On knowing the previous occupants.
You chose to condescend,
I chose to evict.
My efforts now debased.
I like the fresh air, the light
The flowers, the new drapes.
I don’t want the old furniture.
I need an occupant.
Not a tenant,
An owner.
He began visiting, casually.
Then with good cheer and humour.
Roses and champagne.
He rings the bell with love
And patience
No concerns about who lived here earlier.
Last week he stayed long
Last night he stayed over.
Through the morbid solitude
Of the dark.
Now he asks to stay forever.
As owner.
He wishes to invest
In beautifying the premises.
He moves around with alacrity,
Explores every nook lovingly,
Greets relics from my past
And places them on the mantle.
He kisses the jagged edges
Of broken panes,
With no fear of injury,
All the while
With my hand clasped
In his.
My heart is vacant,
Is desperate.
To let him in.
May I?
Nurtured with near maternal care.
You chose to make it your home.
Spring cleaning,
Dust masks,Broomsticks, Rags, galore,
I worked like a maniac.
You couldn’t move comfortably.
I threw away the old armchair,
The springless couch,
The battered bed,
The weatherworn closet,
All into nothingness.
Flowers bloomed bright,
Sunlight filtered through the window panes,
Fresh air cleared the musty odour.
I savoured very sparkling inch
And then I let you in,
Into a sterile, prepped up abode.
You persisted,
Insisted,
On knowing the previous occupants.
You chose to condescend,
I chose to evict.
My efforts now debased.
I like the fresh air, the light
The flowers, the new drapes.
I don’t want the old furniture.
I need an occupant.
Not a tenant,
An owner.
He began visiting, casually.
Then with good cheer and humour.
Roses and champagne.
He rings the bell with love
And patience
No concerns about who lived here earlier.
Last week he stayed long
Last night he stayed over.
Through the morbid solitude
Of the dark.
Now he asks to stay forever.
As owner.
He wishes to invest
In beautifying the premises.
He moves around with alacrity,
Explores every nook lovingly,
Greets relics from my past
And places them on the mantle.
He kisses the jagged edges
Of broken panes,
With no fear of injury,
All the while
With my hand clasped
In his.
My heart is vacant,
Is desperate.
To let him in.
May I?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
30
4 days…4 very short days…to mark the end of youth, to commemorate the end of a time when you were licensed to err, to mourn the loss of a time when being adventurous was considered brave, to remember years gone by, to celebrate my 30th birthday!!
I am very confused about how I should feel 4 days from now. Should I be happy it’s my birthday? Should I be excited that I am reaching a milestone in my life? Should I be sad that I can no longer knock over stuff in a shop and be called cute? Should I be concerned about those little lines around my eyes when I smile? Should I feel proud that I am told I do not look like a mother? Should I worry about how much older it makes my parents? Should I just stop thinking…..
I am sure the next four days will fly by if only I knew how I should feel because then I can promptly go about rationalizing that very feeling, the way I usually do!!!
I am very confused about how I should feel 4 days from now. Should I be happy it’s my birthday? Should I be excited that I am reaching a milestone in my life? Should I be sad that I can no longer knock over stuff in a shop and be called cute? Should I be concerned about those little lines around my eyes when I smile? Should I feel proud that I am told I do not look like a mother? Should I worry about how much older it makes my parents? Should I just stop thinking…..
I am sure the next four days will fly by if only I knew how I should feel because then I can promptly go about rationalizing that very feeling, the way I usually do!!!
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
All Ears
Bored expressions, stifled yawns
Irrelevant interjections.
Eyes drift, focus on distant, inconsequential faces.
Moments of attention pamper,
Tailed by cruel deprivation.
I wonder if conversation with humans makes sense.
The conflict inside seeks respite.
Maybe I should take my thoughts
To rocks, trees and bushes,
To cats, dogs and grazing cows,
To cups of pheeki chai
To customary paranthas served with achar that invigorates the loaded tongue
To red brick walls and other monstrosities.
They do not pretend to listen.
Irrelevant interjections.
Eyes drift, focus on distant, inconsequential faces.
Moments of attention pamper,
Tailed by cruel deprivation.
I wonder if conversation with humans makes sense.
The conflict inside seeks respite.
Maybe I should take my thoughts
To rocks, trees and bushes,
To cats, dogs and grazing cows,
To cups of pheeki chai
To customary paranthas served with achar that invigorates the loaded tongue
To red brick walls and other monstrosities.
They do not pretend to listen.
Conception
We might have made a baby today.
I can still feel your lips on mine,
Your warm breath licking my skin
Your taste in my mouth.
We might have made a baby.
Filling me with your strength
Experiencing completion like never before
Holding me close, spent and sated.
We might have made a baby.
I imagine- me swollen with your child
My skin and eyes glowing with your love
Your tender lips on my stomach.
We might have made a baby.
I dream- of you speaking to my womb
Holding me close as the pain rips through me
Wiping the sweat off my brow.
We might have made a baby.
I see- you watching as he suckles
Him gurgling as your beard tickles
Us pacing till he nods off.
We might have made a baby.
I hope- he has your curly hair and dark brows
He gets your beautiful eyes that crinkle
When he smiles your heartwarming grin.
I wonder if we made a baby today.
I can still feel your lips on mine,
Your warm breath licking my skin
Your taste in my mouth.
We might have made a baby.
Filling me with your strength
Experiencing completion like never before
Holding me close, spent and sated.
We might have made a baby.
I imagine- me swollen with your child
My skin and eyes glowing with your love
Your tender lips on my stomach.
We might have made a baby.
I dream- of you speaking to my womb
Holding me close as the pain rips through me
Wiping the sweat off my brow.
We might have made a baby.
I see- you watching as he suckles
Him gurgling as your beard tickles
Us pacing till he nods off.
We might have made a baby.
I hope- he has your curly hair and dark brows
He gets your beautiful eyes that crinkle
When he smiles your heartwarming grin.
I wonder if we made a baby today.
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