Refrescante, mis manos quedan helados como las palabras,
Que se quedan atrapado entre pensamiento y mi lengua.
Me cierro los ojos, placido el sonido de tu voz.
La energia empieza a correr por mis venas,
al verte, burbujiando por las valles.
Sin parar, sin descanso.
Correre junto, hasta tu sonrisa me deja,
antes que te aburres, me paro.
Los verdes y los tiempos calurosos te esperan,
en los llanos fertiles.
Lejos de mi altiplano.
Monday, December 06, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Rain in October
I loved that you packed an umbrella expecting the rain,
I loved you some more when you forgot to use it,
and stood to look up as the heavens let go.
That smile I'd never forget,
As you walked up to me in your damp clothes,
A little guilt, a lot of happiness.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Busy
Forever needn't always come with an expiry date.
Labels:
dusty roads,
early mornings,
no right turns,
potholes
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Dawn
The brightening sky before him stung his eyes. Rest was not an option as he drove on, wiping a tear now an then from an irritated eye. Dawn had long stopped being something he would enjoy, pulling over at the nearest dhaba and sipping on some hot 'chai'. What little was left of his reputation was at stake. But really, there was none to defend in the first place. It was long gone.
A light blue glow was gently overcoming the safety and coolness of the night sky. Hues of pink and orange were lapping around the edges. Shapes and contours of the countryside began to reveal themselves. A tethered buffalo mutely turned to watch him roar past. He remembered growing up in a place like this. And then the memories flooded back, surging past the morning.
He was never in class to begin with. His mother regarded it as something to add to the family heritage. A high school pass to present at the next gathering of relatives. It only gave him more reason to rebel. It wasn't his age, watching too many weekend movies at the tent or bad influence. He went looking for the bad influence and got into plenty of it. He was constantly being told on by his teachers at school and relatives who caught him playing truant. His anger only barely covering the fact that he was the least interested in sitting through a class. Studies were not for him. He resented the fact that he couldn't do well.
One morning he woke up well before the others, collected a bag with a change of clothes and left. He stopped only at the junction where the dirt road from his village met the highway and decided which way to go. He trudged on through the day, not looking back, until his legs couldn't take him further. He looked up and realised he had reached a halfway place for truck drivers. Trucks lined the sides of the road with dhabas filled with hungry and loud people.
He began as a help at one of the dhabas. Serving, washing, cleaning after the truck drivers. He was fascinated with their lives. All they had to do was drive across the country. Regular ones met up and exchanged stories of income tax check-posts, better routes to common destinations, a pretty new prostitute at the toll gate, growing up children and tiring bosses. It all seemed like adventure after adventure, every driver's story unique.
In six months he went on his first truck ride to a city. The driver had grown fond of him and his helper was about to become a driver himself. The strong, young village kid was a perfect replacement. He was hired by the owner of the trucks with a lot of reassurance and praise from his driver friend. The boy didn't let him down once. The moment he could pay off the local authorities to get him a driver's license, he walked up to the big boss and asked for a truck and a route of his own. Again his old friend was there to convince the man.
In three years, he made it big, and then went on reckless sprees of indulgence. He believed he had earned it all - the money, the fine clothes, women and merriment. His friends lasted as long as they could walk away sane and stayed far away as they watched the young man drown himself in drinking bouts that lasted weeks. Angry employers and a spiraling reputation amongst the community left him grasping for very little. His subsequent anger and the to-and-fro between binging and work almost ended where everyone expected it to - in a gutter or a hospital pallet. Some where, something made him turn back.
There was no elation on knowing he was getting back. He had no choice. There could be no better humiliation in the eyes that stared back at him as he passed each village. He wanted to tell them that he wasn't going anywhere other than back to where he started. The blues had moved away to the other horizon, making way for a searing white. Closing his eyes seemed such a pleasant option, but he knew he had to keep his word. Pressing down a little more on the pedal to fight off the tiredness that was spreading across his body, he realised he'd hit a lonely, straight stretch. Any other day this would have been a trucker's joy. Now, it looked like hell.
A form up ahead broke the monotony and it irked his senses for a moment. It seemed out of place. As he drove closer, he saw that it was a young boy walking along. He seemed lost between purpose and indecision. As he got closer, more features were lit up by a blazing dawn, the bare feet and a small travel bag. Not a speck of cloud. The yellow, searing sun lit up hell diligently. The truck swerved across the road and toward the boy.
A light blue glow was gently overcoming the safety and coolness of the night sky. Hues of pink and orange were lapping around the edges. Shapes and contours of the countryside began to reveal themselves. A tethered buffalo mutely turned to watch him roar past. He remembered growing up in a place like this. And then the memories flooded back, surging past the morning.
He was never in class to begin with. His mother regarded it as something to add to the family heritage. A high school pass to present at the next gathering of relatives. It only gave him more reason to rebel. It wasn't his age, watching too many weekend movies at the tent or bad influence. He went looking for the bad influence and got into plenty of it. He was constantly being told on by his teachers at school and relatives who caught him playing truant. His anger only barely covering the fact that he was the least interested in sitting through a class. Studies were not for him. He resented the fact that he couldn't do well.
One morning he woke up well before the others, collected a bag with a change of clothes and left. He stopped only at the junction where the dirt road from his village met the highway and decided which way to go. He trudged on through the day, not looking back, until his legs couldn't take him further. He looked up and realised he had reached a halfway place for truck drivers. Trucks lined the sides of the road with dhabas filled with hungry and loud people.
He began as a help at one of the dhabas. Serving, washing, cleaning after the truck drivers. He was fascinated with their lives. All they had to do was drive across the country. Regular ones met up and exchanged stories of income tax check-posts, better routes to common destinations, a pretty new prostitute at the toll gate, growing up children and tiring bosses. It all seemed like adventure after adventure, every driver's story unique.
In six months he went on his first truck ride to a city. The driver had grown fond of him and his helper was about to become a driver himself. The strong, young village kid was a perfect replacement. He was hired by the owner of the trucks with a lot of reassurance and praise from his driver friend. The boy didn't let him down once. The moment he could pay off the local authorities to get him a driver's license, he walked up to the big boss and asked for a truck and a route of his own. Again his old friend was there to convince the man.
In three years, he made it big, and then went on reckless sprees of indulgence. He believed he had earned it all - the money, the fine clothes, women and merriment. His friends lasted as long as they could walk away sane and stayed far away as they watched the young man drown himself in drinking bouts that lasted weeks. Angry employers and a spiraling reputation amongst the community left him grasping for very little. His subsequent anger and the to-and-fro between binging and work almost ended where everyone expected it to - in a gutter or a hospital pallet. Some where, something made him turn back.
There was no elation on knowing he was getting back. He had no choice. There could be no better humiliation in the eyes that stared back at him as he passed each village. He wanted to tell them that he wasn't going anywhere other than back to where he started. The blues had moved away to the other horizon, making way for a searing white. Closing his eyes seemed such a pleasant option, but he knew he had to keep his word. Pressing down a little more on the pedal to fight off the tiredness that was spreading across his body, he realised he'd hit a lonely, straight stretch. Any other day this would have been a trucker's joy. Now, it looked like hell.
A form up ahead broke the monotony and it irked his senses for a moment. It seemed out of place. As he drove closer, he saw that it was a young boy walking along. He seemed lost between purpose and indecision. As he got closer, more features were lit up by a blazing dawn, the bare feet and a small travel bag. Not a speck of cloud. The yellow, searing sun lit up hell diligently. The truck swerved across the road and toward the boy.
Labels:
bus trips,
manali,
mcleaod ganj,
short stories,
stories,
storytelling
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Woe
Brazen beginnings barely bridled,
wilfully wading he went into worrisome waters.
A princely price he paid,left him a pauper.
Now, nowhere near narcissist,
An asylum allies his hours.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Another something he knew
He walked away from that instance that went on to become another memory;
with a merry jingle and tinkle of fragile items from his heart.
He wanted to go home, if he knew where that was.
He'd have loved to come home to its comfort and warmth.
If he could ever stop, turn, and make it home.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sweat Sweet
Tease, freeze, knocking knees
Drown a god for every fit thrown
Sweet sweat down your spine
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Nunca sin privilegios
sera algo que tendre
grabado en mi mente por siempre
las dependencias son infinitas
todo depende... ay fastidio
en privilegios
pero siempre quejamos
de los privilegios
que no acudemos a tener
maldicion! me han llamado complasente
otra vez
grabado en mi mente por siempre
las dependencias son infinitas
todo depende... ay fastidio
en privilegios
pero siempre quejamos
de los privilegios
que no acudemos a tener
maldicion! me han llamado complasente
otra vez
Monday, September 15, 2008
I've always been skeptical about a lotta things I see... and think that I need to believe and experience them foist for myself...
but have been experimenting at the lab for some time and now think that awareness and learning happen at an unhindered pace and with an unhindered mind
Note to self... one must not blindly believe and belief must come at an urgency that one's heart must dictate - not the mind...
but have been experimenting at the lab for some time and now think that awareness and learning happen at an unhindered pace and with an unhindered mind
Note to self... one must not blindly believe and belief must come at an urgency that one's heart must dictate - not the mind...
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, June 02, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
red pill blue pill
Yes,
Make a choice
this one or that
that one or this
there's only two ways
out of this room
it means something surely
this choice in colour
defines you
can?
could?
how much a kilo?
not a good bargain I say
you know what the word 'bugger' means child?
all the way from a rainy port town with a funny accent
why?
did?
and if those aren't the colours I dig?
I could be colour blind you know...
ho
hum
twiddle dee
twiddle dum
MOOFASA!
oooooooooh!
do it again! do it again!
scare the skin off my bones
Mr. Spiff
The path
of the righteous man
is beset on all sides
by the iniquities of...
...piff!
Please smile. Thankyouverymuch.
Make a choice
this one or that
that one or this
there's only two ways
out of this room
it means something surely
this choice in colour
defines you
can?
could?
how much a kilo?
not a good bargain I say
you know what the word 'bugger' means child?
all the way from a rainy port town with a funny accent
why?
did?
and if those aren't the colours I dig?
I could be colour blind you know...
ho
hum
twiddle dee
twiddle dum
MOOFASA!
oooooooooh!
do it again! do it again!
scare the skin off my bones
Mr. Spiff
The path
of the righteous man
is beset on all sides
by the iniquities of...
...piff!
Please smile. Thankyouverymuch.
Despierto sin dormir
Automático,
todo anda sin control
las llaves de la puerta se las tiraron
buscame una esquina que quiero salir del frÃo,
un ratito no mas pues
mis manos, los quiero sentir otra vez
vez las palabras que salen de mi boca?
se congelan pa' que vean todos
y se las recuerdan mejor
oye deja eso!
no me las robes
que quiero ver si se van a ser aguita
o romper en un millón de pedazos
cuando se callen al suelo
ya no esta nevando ya
se cambio en lluvia
debe estar haciendo calor por aquÃ
voy a ver por donde queda
pero ya vuelvo
que tengo necesidad de esa esquina
se que van a estar aquÃ
aunque no me esperan
todo anda sin control
las llaves de la puerta se las tiraron
buscame una esquina que quiero salir del frÃo,
un ratito no mas pues
mis manos, los quiero sentir otra vez
vez las palabras que salen de mi boca?
se congelan pa' que vean todos
y se las recuerdan mejor
oye deja eso!
no me las robes
que quiero ver si se van a ser aguita
o romper en un millón de pedazos
cuando se callen al suelo
ya no esta nevando ya
se cambio en lluvia
debe estar haciendo calor por aquÃ
voy a ver por donde queda
pero ya vuelvo
que tengo necesidad de esa esquina
se que van a estar aquÃ
aunque no me esperan
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