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This blog is named after one of my poems. Even thought its not the best of the lot, I just fell in love with those words- The Psyche Unknown...

Friday, April 21, 2017

Tick tock

Tick tock tick tock,
the clock does its usual trick,
The deep minds ignore the sorcerous lores
and continue ploughing their endless moors.
Why can't I?, asks a tiny voice,
desperation reeking more than the noise
The blank paper fills not itself,
The writing finger moves not alone.
Inspire, between the clicking tocks,
oh dear needle, this psyche unknown.


Monday, April 3, 2017

This is the end

"This is the end!", growled the monster on the road,
Breathing fire with its head half-bowed,
The vehement eyes made it extremely clear,
that the path ahead would be laden with fear.
That should I go where no one has gone,
I would never bathe in the crisp of the dawn,
That should I try to redeem my soul,
I would char, black as coal,
That should I choose to pick up my fallen grit,
my purpose would be shunned into a bottomless pit,
That should I, till the end, stubbornly endure,
I would fall, bruise, and perish unsecure.

"Choose not this path, why, this is the end,
There is no mercy beyond the bend,
Rotten bones on a dried up land,
Countless like the grains of sand.
Not many try and very few succeed,
Reaching your throne is no ordinary feat,
The men who dreamt of glory and gold,
In face of my trial, were never so bold.
Be warned!" roared the monster, "away you go!
to a life of order, ignorance, and glow,
I am the sweltering heat and the sinking snow,
I humour not, be wary of the impending woe."

I stood at the gate, daunted by the beast,
that had in its belly a splendid feast,
of all the qualities that I needed to thrive,
on the trail of adventure, wisdom, and drive.
There was only one definite way out,
claimed the past heroes without a doubt,
"Slay the demon and claim your prize,
relish the feast and like a phoenix you shall rise."
I looked up at the beast, quivering yet strong,
Said loudly, "I want no gold, no glory, no song;
But I must, if nothing, try my might,
while I am an explorer, a thinker, a beacon of light."

"So you choose solitude, admonition, and unease",
hollered the demon, its lips in a deathly crease,
"I am the guardian of the untrodden and unknown,
You shall, for this foolishness, atone."

I breathe in deep and draw out my sword,
I face the steely claws of stone,
"You haven't known a woman's valor", I cry,
"This is her fight, there is only do, no die."


Friday, March 31, 2017

Those heads!

What's with the dunderheads?
those war mongering  puppet heads,
dancing to the call of shrunken heads,
that create chaos  just to get ahead!

Then there are those being endlessly fed,
of the same vile disguised as french bread,
They gulp and bobble their misguided egghead,
And their friends join, who are equally unread.

I sigh and shake my round-damn-head,
Am I the one, the mistaken deadhead?
Should I take my worries to bed?
May be I'll just vent here instead.


Saturday, March 25, 2017

The 90's dad..

Short and dark, ordinary as all,
he wiped his brow, as if he had a fall;
He knew more work awaits,
even as he approached the gates-
of the little square of brick and mould,
that was his household.

The engine of the mighty Explorer,
rumbled as he slowed down,
The mumble so familiar, always drew me out,
dropping the pencil, knocking everything about.

I darted to the gates without a frown,
every single time, like a seasoned clown.

He saw I was prepared, to not let him in,
despite the beads of sweat on his chin,
I pester him for my daily ride 'round the town,
atleast a mile on the dusty roads brown.

His ear lobes stopped his wide, wide smile,
he said with a thump, 'let's explore, more than a mile!'.

Stalls of icecreams, pickled mangoes, and corn,
Fighter jets, temples, and policemen with a scorn,
theaters, bridges, fairy lights, and towers,
parks, playgrounds, the markets full of flowers.

He talked about  buildings that he engineered,
we circled around the skyscrapers that leered,
he told me the tales of the great ancestors,
of the minister, the artist and the court jester.

Always a shout-out, always a cheer,
to the man at the petrol bunk so near;
atleast a humble toast at the bakery,
never went home without something savoury.

Two decades later, I sit in an office,
missing this man, and everything he offered,
especially on his birthday so esteem,
I reminisce the 90's  like no other dream.

I feel the air that tried to untie my hair,
The dangling feet that reached nowhere,
my arms wrapped tight around his waist,
on the bike of a glorious era with no haste.

I have no treats, only poor rhymes,
I call briefly like a summer's wind-chimes,
His smile still spans beyond his face,
Happy birthday, dear appa,
You are my saving grace.


Friday, March 24, 2017

A line or two...

A rainy day stirs my eyes
away from reality's fire and ice;
the steady droplets hammer my thoughts
that crumble into benign little knots.

Many a men, many a women,
wield their sword, dagger, and pen;
envy, lust, contempt, and awe,
punch a crater in my jaw.

I know no art, no science, no law,
can count in myself, a hundred flaws;
but one thing in the end might change alright,
if I stirred my spirit day and night.

For it shan't last, for it can't last,
the failure, shame and ignorance so vast;
every week, you shall see a line or two,
from the psyche unknown, in a different hue.


Monday, October 17, 2016

Have mercy!

So it's that time of the year again,
When I typically mislay my rein,
I fumble and tumble in the horrid rain,
I do plead, receiving nothing in gain.

I blame it on the source,
The life, the giver of gifts of course,
No, not the man all believe, hidden in the cloud,
The one beyond who is wrapped in a shroud.

Indeed the sun; why does he hide?
Doesn't he know that he is my guide,
I'm lost under the clouds with no time to bide,
Darkness soaks me like a ruthless giant tide.

How can I think when -
a single thought doesn't stick,
Millions of them fired with every passing tick,
In what earthly conscience do I pick?

How can I breathe when-
the air is so slick and,
rushing in all directions;
I may as well be hit by a brick.

Come out of the shadows, oh dear sun,
Let my words of yesterday be undone,
Brighten my soul and warm up my skin,
The light around is really too thin.

Toying with my mind,
are things not so kind.
I need you not to turn blind,
In my moment of need-
-don't leave me behind.

Force the dark clouds away from the crowds,
For I tend to linger amongst the trouts,
Lifeless and mindless, I stagger in my strut,
Have mercy, before my dreams are forced shut.

Stir me tight and steer me right,
With those sorcerous, warm rays of might,
Have you no compassion towards my plight?
What must I slay to win this fight?


Wednesday, October 12, 2016

The broken arrow

The mind wandered like a broken arrow,
Desire crept in with its tendrils narrow,
Twining with the present and pulling me away
far, far from the still winds of May.

Away from the sun, close to the haze,
There laid out, was a deathly maze
of traps so brazen, I shuddered to enter,
Unwilling to meet again, the tormentor.

The breath intensified as the heart pounded,
The transgressed arrow deliriously floundered,
Picking up the pieces, I find myself thick
in the garden of snares and fences that trick.

I edged past an exploding shell,
Dodged a bullet running through hell,
While from a distance, I hear an alluring call,
Unaware, I scarper in hope towards my fall.

The oasis I sought was an illusion of dew,
Glamored by the melody and the pitch so new,
The psyche unknown had staggered through,
Reviving the foolish old wounds, not so few.

The broken arrow never finds the mark,
Or so I'm reminded by the tormentor very stark,
The mirror, the light, the shadows and sense,
together sing the insistent tale sans pretense.

I try to patch the arrow in time,
Before the dew disappears amidst the chimes
of a clock that sprints but never bends,
Only to realize that a broken arrow never mends.


Friday, February 19, 2016

The mighty fools

The broken bead of crimson blob,
Recites a twisted tale of a mob,
Of chaos, of dissent, of contempt and malice,
Of poison served in a covetous chalice.

They trust their thought in matters not bare,
Citing a title or an accolade not rare,
Heads in the clouds, trampling the ground,
Walk they do, with stupidity profound.

They scream, they cry, of wars very wry,
Hailing a slayer who painted the sky-
In red, in horror, in repulsion and dismay,
Dispirited are the kin of those who were slayed.

Entitled they feel, certain as a rock,
Imbecilic minds that gather amok,
Mocked are the crusades of the selfless guardians,
Those protectors of the land, those carriers of order.

They cry foul, when logic prevails,
Leaving no room for truth or details,
Spewing disarray like venomous snakes,
Are the others who join with vested stakes.

They accomplish their goal at the cost of the land,
For money, for power, for the thrills so bland,
Creating anarchy, dividing households,
Fare they do like roofs and moulds.

I stand far and watch alarmed,
Lost, alone and feeling disarmed,
With the mighty fools skittering about,
What can I do but pen this with a doubt.


Sunday, August 2, 2015

To kill or not to kill

We humans definitely think more of ourselves than we ought to. I would like to believe that it is ingrained in us in order to protect our species from extinction, but given that we are an “intelligent” species that is self-aware and there is no immediate threat posed by other species to our dwindling existence, I am forced to think that self protection is not the primary goal here.

I am talking about the eonian debate taking place across the world about death penalty... for humans. I am not referring to any particular case here although the most recent one in India forced me to pen down what has been a big question forever in my head. There are many who opposed the verdict for reasons all too well publicized in the media. One of which was that opposition of death penalty on principle. Some of the justifications given are- every person has a right to live no matter what, we do not have the right to take someone's life because he/she committed a crime, death penalty is totalitarian, barbaric, uncivilized, does not deter crime, an expensive process where innocent can be victimized etc.. All are plausible reasons, I agree. Is awarding death as punishment to humans justified? Well, it depends on the individual case and there are qualified people to argue and decide over it. But those who cry about death penalty being a major hindrance to the “fundamental right to live”, quit the double standards. Innocent lives are being seized on a daily basis by us humans and not many even think of it.

Whether we like it or not, we are a part of the species which collectively hands out unwritten death sentences as we please to innocent or otherwise. It is strange to me that there are several voices against taking the life of another human while all along humans are doing exactly the same to flora, fauna and water bodies brimming with life all around us. The only difference is that these species and resources are defenseless - in a human legal sense. They do not have a written constitution proclaiming their right to live and they never fight back in a way that wakes us up to our uncivilized, barbaric actions. They do not have defense attorneys weaving mercy petitions or supportive media sensationalizing the whole sordid affair. Personally, I am not going to show a holier-than-thou attitude and say I will never hurt another life. If I felt endangered in any small way, I would use all means available to get out alive and unhurt. Self-preservation is key. But that's not what's going around here.

We are there, in a remote corner of a tiny galaxy!*
This attitude basically lies on the premise that human life is somehow more valuable than that of other species. Human comfort is top priority, which, in an evolutionary sense is understandable. But being more capable of understanding the cons of this model better than a garden rat, one would expect a little more caution and forethought from the side of humans. This tiny little planet of ours is the size of a sand grain in a mighty big universe. For some unknown reason, 'life' as we call it has evolved on this planet. Every species that could comb out its competition has thrived on this diminutive blue speck. If they have survived by themselves for so many millennia, even prior to humans, they can't be any less inferior now, can they? Just because one does not know the purpose of a bumblebee's existence, doesn't imply that it has none. Where does this arrogance of being powerful come from? All it takes is one minor cosmic malfunction that sends a decent sized meteorite hurling down upon us and we are essentially sitting ducks. How is it that we as one of the species cohabiting this planet with the others, and in reality will not be able to live without their help, decide the fate of everything around us without facing dire moral dilemma?

We cut down trees by the dozen just to be able to print narcoleptic teenage vampire drama or build that aesthetic wooden floor that we can boast of to our colleagues. We rear animals in our backyard, only to sell their meat for an extra TV in the guest bedroom. And even in our own species, we discriminate and allow a few weaker beings to die in poverty and hunger while being completely capable of creating equal opportunities for everyone. Just because somebody doesn't hit the gavel and send one to the gallows, it doesn't make it any more justifiable. And yet when it comes to weeding out an established threat amongst our own species, the whole roof comes down with the condescending moral and rights flag fluttering on top. This double standard is what I don't get.

I cannot deny or exclude myself from the horrific actions of my species. I am a part of it and in some way a contributor too. Forget fighting for the rights of laboratory animals or the dolphins that we choked by spilling oil into their habitat, I haven't been able to convince my family to opt out of using wooden doors for their new house. I am a mute spectator to all of it without much power to change the ways of 7 billion beings in my species, each who possess a free will. But I do believe that what we do to other species is equivalent to death penalty and I am, as they would like to phrase it, on principle against it. If I cannot change it, I will, at the very least, not be a hypocrite crying for a guy who raped or mass-murdered innocent people and then go home to a slow cooked lamb that was meanwhile slaughtered for dinner without a second thought. I am not going to demand clemency for a brain-washed, revengeful terrorist who killed innocent, hard-working and productive members of our species while I empty my trash can full of plastics in the nearby river. The whole concept is irrational on so many levels that it is plain ridiculous. Every time these compassionate activists take issue with death penalty is only when it is about to be implemented on a criminal, otherwise little attempt is made to change the laws pertaining to it. Humans are hypocritical by nature. I wonder if the same people would show up in protest if they lost their loving pets in a shoot-out.

Why are some in our species so sympathetic to terrorists and eager to grant life to sociopaths but hit the like button on our neighbour’s hunting escapades? Why are we willing to spend a fortune on keeping a serial killer alive but behind locked gates, where he has nothing to lose nor has the inclination to really atone for his sins? The ones asking for abolishing death penalty as a punishment are those who will never face the scum of our species in person in an endangering situation. If taking a life is heinous, it has to be heinous in all senses. Where do a few of us who agitate get off by being selectively ethical?

“This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper”

If there is something that will prove Elliot's verse true, it is by turning a blind eye to our crimes against other species and the ignorance driven feeling of superiority we harbour in us.


!* Thanks Google images

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Allegory- Distorted...

To all those suffering from cognitive distortions and its after-effects. Realise. Repair. Redeem.

The door creaked as it slowly swayed to the winds of the fruiting autumn. The broken glass on the window echoed the final rays of an evening sun and the droplets of rain that had turned brown on the rooftop, trickled down imperceptibly along the sodden brick walls. She gazed across the far slopes of the Alpine sierra that had already pocketed snow in several of its hollows. The shepherds' kids, who still had the light in them, chased the piglets close to the stream that trickled away from her condominium. Looking along the horizon, she saw the towering framework of opulence, disdain and greed that once was a fragment of her socially decorous life. A life not too far in the past that had confounded her into the oblivion. She saw the lights, she heard the noises, all far away, but the stench of a life long lost still followed her much like a shadow of the day.

She dragged long and deep from between her fingers. The smell of her muddy hands combined with the unearthly taste of the reefer lifted her to a trance where she skipped to the beat of the drums beyond the sphere. Her eyes so glazed, reflected the dark of all eternity and flashes of her childhood bounced around . Ridiculed by a mother who only wanted her to be the best and untrusted by her father who only wanted her safe, often were her frolics held on the slippery edge of disappointment and ire. Learning to please her creators, she had checked herself strictly into submission to the point of foolishness. Through her loneliness, she discovered the joy of imagination. She meticulously built an empire of fantasies that filled every dry void in her soul. A place where she changed skin, lived a life so antithetic and prospered like no human could humanely do.  She never recognised that her abyssal craving for compliance had consumed her wholly from within her skull. Every moment she spent in reality begged her to go to that one place where she could reign over, where life wouldn't be so strenuous, where the elements danced to her wishes and where she remained unbeatable. Her fondness for her alternate lives thrived. She eventually detached from the bubble of reality and floated far into a place she deemed better.

The sad part about reality for her was that it never realised her worth. Every time she was pulled back into tangibility, she felt the inadequacies of a mundane life. Nothing could ever be perfect as in her exquisite mind. Not even her. Seeking acceptance from every one became her impetus. As she grew older, she nurtured the giant mirror that always lied.  Every time it spat an image so cruel, that she lost her song in the layers of the shiny silver. Her cognition was tampered with and her view was so braided that she found million shredded pieces of herself in every pixel of a seemingly antagonistic world.

She erred on this earth while she knew not why. She failed a thousand times unwittingly and the count only grew. Her friends called her a fighter but only she saw the rocks burying her beneath. Her guardians were finally pleased with her but she wondered how that ever came to be. People applauded and drew carpets for her while she only saw masked pity. Opportunities she grabbed seemed like a clear case of charity. How could the world elude logic and try to pacify her? She was nowhere near perfection that she was known for, in her other worlds, in those true places. Her brows formed a permanent gorge on her forehead and she had let the insanities of this world flow through it. No matter how many told her otherwise, she imagined that she was the reason for all the wrong in this world. She fell short of her own measure in a far better place and she could not live with it. The guilt of being contemptible could only hold her in reins so long. Her every imagined flaw had turned into an obsessive hound set to kill. She fled from this world to a place where one couldn't bother bringing her back any more.

She slowly blinked in the haze of her present. Her intoxications had given her, her world within the world of apparent chaos, a world devoid of trials to pull her away. The bud had nearly faded in her fingers while her sight cleared from the past. The noises she hated grew louder and the lights brighter. They seemed much closer than she had perceived.The space seemed to have shrunk, with her view now over the mould-ridden walls of her neighbour. She looked around her house that never was a home. She couldn't care less about the loose door or the roof that leaked. Her accolades, all stood there mocking  aloud about the life she had misconceived.  The winds that picked up intensity grazed her bones as her leg slipped into thin air. She peered down the window sill of the urban tower that she was perched upon, to see the little playful piglets beckoning her. The meadows formed behind them and the stream trickled again. The busy metropolitan streets had paled into those green moulds of the south she yearned for, her happy place. She clutched the window and swung her other leg out facing the golden hue of the evening sky.

Her feet danced to the rhythm of the drums that continued to play from beyond. Everything else muted, she could hear herself breathe in tandem with the beats. The breeze whisked those stray locks away from her face and set them free. Her lips parted in a smile as distorted as her view was in the moment she let go of the plank. She sailed across and beyond, nescient of her tumult, gliding towards her one true love, her one true home...


!* Courtesy: Google Images