Poems

I have never surfed. I don't think I have even touched a surf-board. But, when South Coast Writers Centre, NSW came up with the In The Shade contest, I had to do something!

The Grommet

The beach is lined.

A kaleidoscope of surfboards

Stand guard. Straight and tall.

Sentinels under the Sun.

Like long black insects,

A line-up of surfers

Lie in wait, their legs

Dangling in the water.

Streams from the Sun,

Dance on the ocean.

Making it sparkle, and

Throw up gold dust.

A late surfer,

Runs down the beach.

Her surfboard in hand,

Silhouetted in the light.

Slowly, but surely

It begins.

Mountains of water,

Rise and fall.

And the chase is on!

Arms paddle like windmills.

And. You are enveloped.

In a tunnel of blue.

Like flowing glass, the water

Washes over you. Streams through you.

Your eyes feel the sting, and your tongue,

The graininess of the salt.

The restless wave,

Shatters onto the beach.

Into a trillion crystal pieces

And a clap of thunder.

And again, you try.

To become one. With

That piece of glass,

That flows and roars.

Paddling, carving,

Gliding, effortlessly it seems.

But the wave,

Does not like the intrusion.

You are pulled out.

Like a cork

From a champagne bottle.

There is foam.

And again.

Paddle, Carve, Pump

Balance. Glide.

Till you fly.

With unimaginable strength, the wave

Foams and spits like a racehorse.

While you, the small jockey hangs on.

For dear life, enjoying the ride.

  

The best part? I won!

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When it rained - I

Calcutta used to be a city full of wide rooms, painted

a dull yellow. The windows, two on each wall

Each, with two green shutters. And a balcony, No!

A verandah. Looking out, or in. Didn’t matter.

The verandah had beautiful grille railings.

Innumerable curls and swirls ending

in straight lines.

When you stood on the verandah

Right by the grille railing and looked up,

a small sliver of a grey-blue sky would

peek out, winking between the rooftops.

The early afternoon would turn into late evening,

and the birds, confused

would roost on the neem tree nearby.

Cool, moisture-laden wind would blow,

making your eyes close

and your lips smile.

Because you knew that the rains were coming.

Somebody would shout “Its going to rain.

Bring down the clothes.” And, as if on cue,

the first drops would fall, sprinkling your nose.

Laughing, you would rush

To yank all the sarees from the clothesline

And they would gather in your arms, swishing and flapping

Throwing colour everywhere.

To be continued...

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I wrote this while sitting in my car, travelling to a far-off, but near-enough archaeological dig. Not that I don't like cars; just not for more than 3 hours :D

I wish I were on a train.

Sitting on the right lower berth, 

my knees locked 

tight in my arms

looking out the window.

Feeling the strength of the train 
as it pushes itself off.

Sliding on the plastic bench, 

about to fall.

Only the pressure 

of my feet stop 
My graceful fall.

 And I spy the country 
spread out, like a virtual map.

For me.

What is your choice of travel vehicle?

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Believe it or not, I wrote this while sitting in front of a college exam-paper, and the grade counted in the eventual degree that I have received, thank you very much. And no, this was not towards the end. This was me procrastinating, at the very beginning.  

Fire 

A fiery afternoon

melted the classroom

She entered with shy eyes

a vision in pure white.

Her brown mousy hair

was oiled back in a pigtail.

The Sun’s fiery dancers

bounced off, casting lancers.

Her round earrings

sang merrily, of

golden sandy dunes,

embellished with fiery tunes.

All of a sudden,

there was a rustle.

And, my eyes fell on

the flame of her attire.

The dupatta! It was made of Fire.

My eyes drank, till they could

no more. And I lowered them to

the boring sheet, once more.

What did (or do) you do during your exams? 

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I love Tom and Jerry. They made Sunday mornings better, which is a humongous feat! 

This is my Ode to Tom.

To Tom,

Pussy cat, pussycat

You poor thing!

When will you realize,

That the mouse

Always wins?

Whether it be 

the living room,

or the ocean blue.

Anywhere and

everywhere, he always

does you in.

Still, you persist

with unrelenting force.

Dogs and fowls

entrailing, with a dash

of human howls.

My dear pussycat, 

please be a little smart,

and get yourself

another house cat.

Which cartoons would you drop everything for and glue yourself to the telly with a bowl of cereal? 

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The Tea Party – II

Little Ganesh was hungry, again.

Mummy Parvati said “No more!”

But the aroma from the kitchen

made his little tummy implore.

An idea struck! A tea party.

Then mummy would have to relent.

Now, whom to invite and who not to  

He thought, as his trunk tapped his forehead.

Big Brother Kartikeya, barged his way in.

Bringing his cronies to muddle this shindig.

The benevolent Rama! Apple of Kekeyi’s eyes.

Got the other three along to avoid a lie.

Krishna wouldn’t budge without his Radha,

Who came along trailing her ghaghgra.

Making matters worse, daddy returned early

Loudly announcing, that he was hungry!

Mummy smiled, and brought the goodies out.

And Ganesh carefully counted the gulabjamuns

Lakshman made a beeline for the icecream.

While everybody else sat down.

The party was in full swing, and

they were clapping at Bharat’s mime.

When Radha spilled lemon tea,

All over the sky!

I wanted to begin with my ode to the Gods and especially Lord Ganesh. 

It was early evening and the sky had draped itself with a lovely lemon yellow hue, and I thought maybe one of the Gods had spilled their evening tea.

Look up the Bibliography Page for explanations and meanings of some...well most of the terms and names here.