Saturday, September 12, 2009

More Hate Poems

Every time I hear "I love u",
the hollowness stabs me.
A sharp, peircing pain, that-
seep to the marrow of my being.
I yearn to spit on these,
turn my face and walk away.
But this body is a beggar,
or rather a parah dog that licks,
the thrown way morsels.
And then-
Bask in the glory that never was!


My heart, as hard as a rock,
Is tossed in the jungle of love.
Yearning, not for the footstep
of a wandering prince
The fun of being trampled on,
I've had enough for a moksha and more.
All I yearn for is freedom-
from the treachery of this body.
I know my freedom will be won-
The day I start hating you.


Monday, September 7, 2009

One Day of Baby Sitting

One day my uncle asked me to baby sit for him. Since his daughter happened to be my favourite cousin, I agreed most happily. Now this five year old lady is quite smart and is a wonderful companion. I’ll describe the day’s progress even by event.

Her first remark was my dress was quite inappropriate for a good girl and that I should always wear a churidar with a shawl. one has to look modest enough. She added that my dress looks pretty old too.

Then she wanted to dance. Not only did she want to dance, she wanted me to join her and went on to teach me some moves in classical dance. Now class X English workbook was the last time i went anywhere near an exercise and my body is really really far from flexible. Naturally i ended up a lousy pupil and she got disgusted with my dancing skills soon enough.

Then she noticed that i'm not wearing a bindi, i haven't painted my nails and my hair is not combed. So we march to the make up room where i went thru all these processes on both of us. I followed all her expert advice and ended up looking like ... looking like nothing that i can think of.

Luckily it was lunch time and for once she focused her attention on something other than food. This was followed by a session in tv room where we watched a lot of rhymes and singed and danced.

Thus ended my day of baby sitting. I love this little girl very much and I enjoyed her company very much and it was real amusing. But then why do we bring up our girls teaching them ways of decorating themselves right from infanthood? why does this little child have to be so full of notions of modesty and appropriateness and all that bull shit? why can't she be taught to wear clothes and carry herself the way that makes her feel comfortable? I think we need to give some thought to the way we bring up our girls, the way we help them form their thought process.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

My Hate Poems

These poems are inspired by my friend and poet Toby Joseph's Love Poems(the ones that i post in Facebook now and then).

I will never cry for you
Because every tear reminds me of you
Shared moments of laughter, pain and tears.
Ever tear that I preserve in my heart.
Boils and burns and keeps alive’
The memories of your Love.
Waiting to erupt,
A volcano of emotions,
Every time I think of you.
Until a whirlwind of Hate absorbs me,
And leaves the volcano dormant.


The deep dark chasms of Hate,
Often tempt me
With the promise of healing,
The wounds made by Love.


My body conspires against me,
Everytime we meet.
Or I could have let you know,
The depths of my hatred.