A poem I wrote after watching some strange movie on the tube.

One night stand 

Two bodies, nay souls, unite
Twisting manoeuvres bathed with lust
All disguise torn apart
Flung casually onto the floor.
Searing passions ebb through the night
Soon to be eclipsed before the advent
Of the yellow globe.
But for now
Mumbling moans collide and magnify
Climaxing into a crescendo
Then brake to a silent halt.
Rushed on by the orgasmic kayo
They roll off into deep slumber
Her chest beating to the rhythm
Of his deep baritone snore.

Tomorrow will bring a new face
Another charm to plug the void
Of a perfect love amiss.
Compensated by the frenzy
With an unknown lover
Exchanging a flavorless kiss
Bleached of emotion.


Must admit the tube has been a huge factor behind my hiatus from this space. It’s been a great fortnight for all sportslovers: Euro 2004 has been a revelation and so has Wimbledon, this year being the swansong for the charismatic Goran Ivanisevic.

Coming back to Euro 2004, some of the group matches have been true classics – the Denmark-Sweden and Netherlands-Czech Republic clashes – in stark contrast to the drab quarter finals. The tournament has had its fair share of revelations, with raw, uninhibited youth pushing the veterans into the background. Zidane, Beckham, Raul and Co. have all petered out against high expectations leaving the field open for young guns like Rooney, Ronaldo and Baros to parade their skills. But my player of the tournament has been the Czech Pavel Nedved, ever the team man, leading his nation with an infectious enthusiasm and an inspirational grit that saw them win all their league games even after trailing in each match. The mop-haired midfielder has been instrumental in the high scoring rate of the Czech Republic with his defence-splitting passes and lightning quick runs. With the highest victory margin in the quarter finals, the Czech Republic would be the favourites to clinch the title. Yet, the way things have gone so far, I wouldnt bet a single buck on any team right now.

The transmutations of time

Your faint outline obscured by the fog
The voice is drowned by the barking dog.
Whatever happened to you my friend?
Did you take an unknown bend?

Your face is white, is it a blur?
The words jangle, seem like a slur.
Your feet don’t seem to take your weight,
Didn’t people let you settle in their state?

Did they let you sleep in the garden
On cold, lonely, wintry nights?
Did they leave you at the phone
While they went out to fly their kites?
Did they tell you that the game was over?
Did they tell you that the cock had crown?
Did they tell you about the cooling embers?
Did they tell you how you had grown?

Your gasping breath filled the silent air
Yet I couldn’t lighten your wares.
I’m sorry if I didn’t hear your cry
I’m sorry if I couldn’t see you fly
I had to build my own channel
While you were searching for your own sky.

And now when we meet again
The times seem different, now and then
Each standing out against the other
Like yellow roses on a tinted pane.
How time catalyzed that tenderness
Into grim indifference I’ll never know
We’re still the same as we were before
Sans that exuberant, youthful glow.

First days at school

The month of June always reminds me of the first day of the academic year at school. School would reopen in the second week of the month with Mass celebrated by our principal. I remember waiting keenly for the mass to get over soon, impatient as I was to meet my classmates after a good two month hiatus. Later we’d have an assembly on the school lawns which would be sprouting fresh tender green shoots – much like the horde of students all enthusiastic to start a new year – with the advent of the monsoon. The sweet smell of wet soil lingered in the air as Fr. Principal would begin with his trademark opening “My dear boys and girls…” and then continue his speech which in most cases was a paraphrase of his sermon earlier in church. The tone of his voice indicated he was indeed oblivious to how much attention he received from young minds like me, who were waiting to break out of the lethargy induced by a vacation a tad too long. Gradually his tenor would taper off to a drone and a few minutes and a thousand words later we were through, ready to kick-start another year of fun and excitement, of making new friends, of playing impish pranks, and of course in between all that we studied a little too.

It’s rather intriguing but I can’t help feeling disconnected these days. Each time I’m out with people, it appears as if there is this vacuum between them and me. I stand cocooned, crafting my gestures and body language to insulate the chaos of thoughts which perennially occupy my mind. I live marooned in my own world, speaking a language that’s alien to others with no interpreter to break the code. I can’t relate to loose talk or plain friendly banter the way I did with pals at college. Every word and every action is now preceded by an intricate logical analysis. I have lost the urge to be impulsively adventurous, forgotten the exhilaration that accompanies spontaneity as I try to see reason in even the most trivial of all events.

I see myself becoming more judgmental each day, silently finding glaring faults in others though I know I myself have so many fads and foibles. I sometimes wonder if I have become too rational, when it could so much easier just living for here and now, each moment as an isolated entity, yet independent and complete in itself. I long to be the same experimental adolescent I once was, but I guess that phase is too far behind me now.