The moving finger writes.............

To speak, or not to speak, That is the question; Whether ‘tis better to suffer fools and their babble, Or to use the acid tongue and end them all. Whither is the right way- Tact or forthrightness, Mindless snides and chatter, Or opinions that mean what they say? I much prefer the latter; But then, I do so at my own risk. To speak, perchance to scream, Ay, that’s the rub, For, at the height of screams, What solitude may come, When we have shrugged off this mental toil. - Jan, 2012 (Thanks, William Shakespeare, and my apologies for twisting your words)

I have grown accustomed To this vacant space, Empty roads are back again, The sound of silence Drowns out the din of traffic. My room is the abode For all tenses- past, present and future. Empty space on the wall, The clock had stopped ticking. Every morning I fly to distant lands; Redemption from the tyranny Of the present. - December, 2012

(on board a Shivneri Volvo, from Pune to Bombay) This morning, As I sit on the bus, The road leads me on Through the undulating hills; I have seen them lush green, In the flush of monsoons, But now they are grey, With specks of green. At times I think- Are we like this; From green to grey, And back to green? Ecstasy at times, Weariness at others, Taking their place at the driver’s seat? The bus gives a jolt, Then lurches forward, There are people around me, But it’s a lonely road. Our worries are our inheritance, But our journeys our own, We live to love, But die for living. The distant houses Come and go; Home is a place I have struggled to find. Love is a metaphor, Life is a maze, Where is the harbour That anchors the mind? The bus enters A dark tunnel- Light at the end; Is that how our lives Must necessarily be? Drudgery tolerated To find delight, Ages of melancholy For a minute of ecst...

New Year’s Day is the perfect occasion to do things without planning, rhyme or reason. I was sitting at home, a bit groggy after staying up till 3 in the morning, writing and blogging, and was planning to take short trip somewhere, far away from the maddening crowd. Only, I did not know where, since I got up late in the morning, and it was too late to plan out things. All the friends I contacted were busy, and my family was away at Kolkata. Not cherishing the prospect of sitting at home on a New Year’s Day, I decided to simply roll my wheels and drive my way out of the city, not really planning the destination, the idea being basically to relax and chill out. Post-lunch, I took my car out, filled her up and set out for the Pune- Nasik highway (NH-50). Traffic was thankfully thin, and soon I hit 70 kmph, turned the radio on and just soaked in the moment. As I crossed over the Bhosari flyover, I saw the city spread out in front of me, all the way. The mild January weather wa...

Shimmering through the darkness, And many shades of gray, A beam of light , glowing softly Connects the coming day. It’s the end of an age, At last the year is through, Madness, sadness, ecstasy, Feelings in shades of crimson and blue. Vacant space on the wall, The clock had stopped its ticking sound. Footsteps, do I hear them now? I walk about and look around. My room is a kaleidoscope of events, In the present, future and all that’s been. I escape in the deep of night To distant lands I have never seen. Soon, early light will wash the windows In the shades and hues of a crimson dawn, Happy New Year, to all of us In the colours of a brave new morn.

Another year is about to start. For some, probably a fresh new beginning; for some, the continuation of an old story; for others, a perfectly legitimate excuse to let their hairs down! Whatever the story , the music is going to come blaring on, the DJs are going to line up their numbers, the parties are going to begin, the wine is going to flow, and all are going to enjoy- the pediatric ( child),geriatric (old),) and psychiatric ( wacko) populace included. I remember the year we had spent New Year’s Eve dancing around the bonfire, non-alcohol induced, with family friends, at a forest in Jhargram, West Bengal, where probably the only lights today during New Year’s Eve would be that from the Maoist lanterns. It was perfectly safe and normal to spend holidays there in those parts during those days, just as it is unsafe today. I had told my wife (then-fiancée) that I would have rather spent the night in the company of “ spirits”, and had got an earful on the virtues of not drinking. Today,...

It’s the yuletide season once again. The time of the year when a new year is just around the corner, and people are busy in festivities. It makes one think about the cycle of life, which in many ways, is like the cycle of time- happy times, good times, sad times all following up on the other. I remember, long back we had a Christmas Tree (Aurocaria) in the backyard of our house. It was pretty much an out-of –the way thing to have at our locality in Calcutta those days (more than 20 years back). At Christmas, I would dutifully deck up the tree (even though celebrating Christmas among non-Christian families was not really the “in” thing in those days-the trend was just catching on). Santa wasn’t really that familiar to us then- I imbibed a bit because of my missionary school background. The tree became quite a bit of bonding for me, and in a fit of schoolboy imagination, I even wrote a story linking it to the course of my life! The years passed, and sadly one day, the tree came crash...