Plea

Fall silent to these provocations
Fall silent to the urge to revolt
Fall silent to the most obvious follies
Fall silent even when you're hurting

Fall silent now,
you have spoken enough....

Such Times

What is our life?
Invisible to busy?
Hi to good night?

My thoughts in their fonts
and your expressions in smileys
yellow and round shaped
with red tongues
God!

Am I the only one?
Please raise your hand
and tell me I am not...

As you decide...

I saw a pretty face
An innocent smile
A clear mind
and unminced words

I took a step forward
Hoping I could lend my mind to its understanding

But these things
Scattered
Dispersed
Afraid from maybe my footsteps
Maybe my running towards them..
And I stopped
at the sight of their nonexistence
Disappointed
Panting
Sunburnt
and thirsty..

Gone they were
Little sunbeams.
And all I wished
was to journey with them...

No Poetry

Not going to happen in one million years..
There are technical hitches
and you're a liar
So both things.

Damn Funny

I sneeze. I drop the phone in my hands. I bend down to fetch the phone and the pen in my pocket slips. Trying to grab the pen, I drop the phone again. I miss the pen anyways. It bounces away to glory only to hide itself under the desk. I get the phone first. I try for the pen next. I crouch, bend and stretch myself to a crazy yoga position and reach under the desk. An abbreviated moment of stretching and twisting later, I find the pen and rise up fast, only to bang my head against the corner of the desk. The reflex makes me bend again, this time with more agility and with cartoon birds flying around my head. Only a moment later I realize that the water cup on the edge of my desk had been tripped by the bang. Trying to save the computer and other accessories from any more inundation than it had experienced in the past, I open the drawer with haste to fetch some napkins. The drawer door hits my knee hard enough to make me squirm with discomfort. The phone rings. I pick the receiver, only for the already entangled phone wire to snarl with the mouse wire. The receiver hesitates to reach my ears. Mouse refrains to let go. The flood on the desk spreads uncontrolled by the napkins. I am on the verge of sneezing again. I sit right there enjoying every moment of it as a habit of mine!
There you go...a snapshot of one's life!!

Written by Arun Sundar

A Weird Change

I am too bored to miss anybody. Gone are those days when I'd brood and shed a tear or two, or open up my personal folder and go through old letters and photographs. I don't do that anymore. I don't feel like behaving that way.
Sun-bird left the country a week back. Had to. She was talking about it since a year..and I was a part of it all step by step..right from the entrances to her getting the admit and then finally leaving. I hardly spoke about it to anyone. What's the point, I thought?! What can anyone say or do about this weird feeling of separating from a best friend!
And for introductions- Sun-bird is my best friend..the only one who has stuck around for almost 16yrs now. I love saying that..makes me feel very lucky.

Ya so coming back to the story we met up for the last time at a mall townside..hung out for a bit before we decided to head back to King Circle for an idli and coffee snack. As always we fought for our turn to talk..and with topics abounding time seemed less. Both of behaved as if it were any other meeting and that we'd have another one next Sunday. And really at that time it didn't matter. I was sure I wasn't going to miss her..because she would from being a life-size human turn into a little red dot on gtalk..so big deal..we'd type instead of talk.

Anyway it has been a week..and I miss her. I don't know how and in what way. But I miss talking to her..smsing her about the stupidest to the most serious things..I miss her chatter, her endless-find a boyfriend noww! I miss yelling at her, I miss her yelling at me...I miss our discussions over Zai's state of zen or Tush's bushy eyebrows...I miss treating her like a thesaurus..you know the works!

And this isn't that bugging kind of missing..but a very normal settled type of missing. It's that type of feeling that creeps in, in the middle of my work. Like I know that that number on which I would call her atleast twice a day is her mom's now. Bah..I miss her in a very selfish way! That's all....

The Outsider

What would an outsider think if he were sitting here in place of me, operating his laptop?

Firstly it is not a study table. The compartments indicate that it is to accomodate a peronal computer. But there is not a computer kept there right now. So maybe a new one is sitting packed, waiting to be installed somewhere or they sold an old one. Also, right above the foot rest is a printer, which btw is bathing in cobwebs and dust. That outsider would think- these people sure don't care about keeping their stuff clean or this printer is so dead, wonder when it was used last. But then it solves his mystery of whether the PC ever existed in this space..so..

The desk has items used on a daily basis. There is a bottle of talcum powder, a moisturizer and a deodorant 'pour elle'. The outsider would think- fine so this room belongs to a girl..even the flavour of the talcum powder kept is 'Orange peel extract', surely a little feminine?

He would then observe the other common things kept around the colorful bottles. There are about 3 combs all of the same kind, hell even the same color-brown. They look like they have been bought from the train. Maybe 'Dus ka Teen'? SURELY a girl...

There is also a dictionary kept over a couple of books which look like they too have been catching dust from sometime. Unopened. The dictionary looks used but well-maintained. It still has its hologram intact..

Childhood Vices

We are back again to writing weird poetry,
Back again to mumbling the tumbling, fumbling words
And producing screechy voices over telephones
We are back again to erroenous reading
and incomplete sentences
Right back at half-right spellings
and convenient punctuations.

We are back with our mighty opinions
and the well-practised gaze
Nothing in the content of our words
but still the words sound rare
We are doing it again...cancelling plans
not returning calls
and being a cobweb on a beautiful black piano

We are walking again,
circular walking
and smiling ceaselessly at different people
met at various horizontal planes
We are drawing lines in the air
with our hand-waves
and our directions..

We are back again to diary scribbling
at half-past midnight.
Tyring to figure out the Sari
and muffled giggles spring from inside our rooms
because our heads
are stirring such humour
we thought we're most incapable of..

Some alone times like these
when I=we
are times happier and bright
and most fulfilling
And how else would childhood vices
be cherished ever again?

A new dawn
But I remain the same person.