page 3

the rats in my head

have gone away

holiday time maybe

you keep saying

the world and

its aunt

are blogging

why are you

waiting in the wings

maybe i don’t have

a dog called srk

or a show that says

i am a fifth standard fail

my life is not about

rigors of

everyday living

but vigor and vibrancy

and happiness

hungrily espoused

gravitas i was willing to share

articulate in words

but euphoria

is defying

too mercurial

to be scooped up

dressed in

appropriate

apparel and

accessories

anyway

pathos

is a fashion statement

contentment

is too proletarian

not page 3 material

at all

corner shop

i am amused at

your description

that i am like this

corner shop

that

fixes puncture

sends a plumber

shows houses for rent

has an STD booth

supplies milk

and takes in

old newspaper

i do so many

different things

that require

different skill-sets

lines between home

and work

have blurred

laptop

is the common

lifeline

and like the

corner shop

my earnings

are all so

dismembered

cheque for

book review

payment for

setting question paper

cash for

radio jockeying

compensation for

teaching

adjunct in one

visiting in another

week-end somewhere else

a fifteen year old company

wants help

re-writing its vision

a new idea

needs help in

building biz around it

learning music

reading

so much on my platter

seemingly unconnected

yet i derive

untold value

from every one of them

diversity has become

the defining factor of

my life

dog lessons

of late

we have been having

the most delightful

sunday mornings

we have doggie conference

we have our own mocha

and there are

joey and

ceasar

mocha is our

six-month old lab

and joey and ceasar

are about two months old

since she is almost a generation older

Mocha tries to behave her age

her resignation

is misconstrued as

passivity

so joey snaps at her

polishes off her bowl

barks his head off

if you think

barking dogs don’t bite

joey is quick

to disabuse you

of that notion

his teeth are

as powerful as

his vocal cords

he is pint-sized to

her two feet

but he is a follower

of schumpeter

thinks small is

potent

like all parents

we were always

quick to notice

Mocha’s faults

now thanks to Joey

we have learnt to

count our blessings

why me?

no one ever asked

the bonsai

whether it liked

to be stunted

how did it feel

dwarf

among giants

could it look up

could it make others look up

was it noticed

only because

it was different

from others

did it like

being different

why did someone

play god with it

did it ever say

“why me”?

new age woman

we are victims

of our self-imagery

especially women

we like to flaunt

our strength

our composure

ruffled feathers

only in birds

tears a thing of

history

hysteria went out

of fashion

with Freud

this new super woman

all things

to all people

there is an ointment

called krack

to hide the crevices

in her feet

she wont let

anyone

develop

something for

the fissures

in her soul

to do that would mean admitting

vulnerability

and that is

an oxymoron with

this new age woman

footnote to my daughter

It’s these little things

That you do for me

That cause

A lump in my throat

Like leaving Toto

On my dresser

With a note

Not to feel alone

Even for a day

Without you

That I can

Hug Toto

Going to sleep

It takes so little

To remain connected

Small gestures

Huge triumphs

I now see His

Game plan

in having you

I’d need little else

show-stopper

Every religion says

When you die

You carry nothing with you

Have no problems with this

But I need

God

To underwrite

That there is a

Library up there

Without it

Smiling angels

Or mean devils

Would mean nothing

Being dead

I cant even say

I’d die of boredom !

One cheering thought is

All the literary guys

Who are already up there

Must have published

Heavenly editions

And they must be

Archived

But one sobering thought also is

Hell and heaven must be

A controlled environment

Wouldn’t that

Have thwarted

Creativity?

What if there is no output

Hopefully

By the time

My turn comes

Technology

Will have created

A tool

So dead people

Can micro-fiche

Their books

Along with their soul

MS or Google

Get cracking on this please

working out

many people say

they are

bushed

after a vigorous

work out

and need to rest

i am

completely rejuvenated

nerves tingling

absolutely alive

because

physical exhaustion

stimulates my mind

which in turn

revitalizes my body

so working out

is an emotional need

less physical

i become a

complete sloth

if i haven’t

pushed myself

to my physical limit

and my mind

hibernates

from exhaustion

i can move to

enervation

in nano seconds

but from sloth

to even reasonable activity

mine behaves

like obsolete machinery

i have found

in exercise

excellent catharsis

sweating my woes

flushing out my lows

and cocking a snook

at the world

restoring my

equalibrium

his voice

He was just

A voice

At first

Deep

Dulcet

Evocative

Re-assuring

Polished

When he said

Hey partner

I’d go

Weak-kneed

And stutter

Like a school kid

And

The image of him

In my head

Was all that

The voice

Promised

Even now

The promise

Of that voice is

All I miss

And when I met him

My first impression

Belied what

I carried

In my head

And for days after

When I was assailed by doubt

That voice

Would quell the uprising

In my heart

And I held

On to its promise

In the face of

Piling evidence

To the contrary

Until one day I woke up

To the realization

Voice does not

Maketh a man

single again

A good thing about

Being single again

Is

No biting sarcasm

no meaningless one-upmanship

No eyes widening from shock

No screaming matches

No double entendre

No insides mottled with searing pain

No unnecessary apologies

No attempt to become

Who you are not

No regret that

You are not

Who he wants you to be

You can be yourself

Inside outside

The downside of being single

Is you run out of

Excuses for

Not liking yourself