Pages of a diary

Yellowing pages, brittle and coarse

childish imprudence, adolescent flamboyance

frozen in time by words unspoken,

teary wrinkles and smilies hold.

Nightmarish horrors and sullen realities

torrential emotions and arduous dreams

fragrant memories and ecstatic poems

all come back to life in these pages I hold.

The could have beens and the if onlys

the what ifs and why nots

the questions unasked and answers untold

the dedicated songs and confessions unrolled.

These pages... my world, my solace

the crumbling frontiers of my optimism

dawn of reality and cynicism.

Stuck in a moment, unable to move.

After all the rough stone on the river bank,

with the drift smoothening its vain edges,

having nothing to hold its ground,

catches the flow and crumbles away.

The Bubble

To see a dream in a bubble....

The long cherished dream, a glorious illusion,
at times so perfect, a pretty delusion.
Too brittle to touch and too hard to resist,
like a beautiful bubble too vain to persist.
A burst of colours on a surface thin,
pray lend me some, to colour my life dim.
A picture of perfection, of harmony divine
pray stay with me, inexplicable is the joy I derive.
I see shapes in the clouds passing by,
I strain to hear a song in the whispers sailing by,
So futile are my attempts. Thy perfection is hard to come by.
Won't you stay a while longer and render the strength I seek?
To believe in the perfection of my dream, just like I see in you.
Pray don't break so soon, its my dream that breaks with you.

In the summer haze

A thousand shades of green against the brightest blue,
flowers of gold on the ground form a carpet new.
Bountiful trees with their bouquets alure,
the buzzing bees and flocks of birds galore.

While the gentle breeze soothes the sweat trail;
Fluttering merrily behind the bougainvillea veil,
the cuckoo croons the old melodious tale.
My heart pauses to ask, how different can be Rivendale?

How I wish to be a melodious tune,
to be crafted by the master divine,
to linger long enough to make one smile
and then fade away leaving no trace behind.

How I wish to be a part of this paradisiacal picture!
To be a colour in the palette, a tinge in the rainbow.
To render a certain completeness to the scene.
To be an actor, rather than a spectator.

But then I am part of a celestial drama,
a line perhaps in an epic.
Inconsequential, yet of some importance.
Insignificant, yet irreplaceable.
A myriad of virtues and vices.
A custom configuration of perfections and defects.
So foolish, yet so human,
forever seeking a respite other than the ones I have been given.

The street

One of those mood-swings....

The busy street filled with people
turn around, wave and walk by.
The dear ones with their sunny smiles
join at the coffee table and we bond as time goes by.
A sunny afternoon turns into a pleasant evening,
the pouring rain mellow down to a drizzle.
The world prances by, smile doesn't fade.
But the smile had to fade as easily as it came,
melancholy had to sink in without a reason or rhyme.
An imp plays tricks with mind,
an uncalled, uninvited, inexplicable invasion.
Praying for a dear hand to clasp mine
to wipe away the tear with a warm hug,
to just stay with me till the devil retreats,
but alas, I now look at the empty street.

Queen of Viruses

This is a dedication to one of the most boring lecturers I have come across till now in life....including some PJ masters :P :P I wrote this poem during the sleepiest of hours I remember in engineering.... the lecturer was a very good person but unfortunately her lectures were just absolute droopy-times. She is quite similar to Professor Binns of the Harry-Potter fame except that she used the door to enter the class rather than float around airily like Binns does in the Potter books.
Gundu (also rarely known as Shweta.... and less uncommonly as Twesa....suit urself.... ;)) found this poem written in some book of hers...apparently I use paper only to make boats and play tic-tac-toe.... so, since i ran out of paper, I ended up written in her book :D However I am sure that all of you will relate to some two-leged-sleeping-draught creature whom you might have encountered in your life.... so....Read on.....

Dear old lady wearing black,
Pray turn around and never come back,
for there are networks unblessed by you,
their packets stand still waiting for you.
The sniffer dogs have caught rabies online
The packets are howling ,to release themfrom the crime,
Time has stopped, NTP no longer holds
FTP never works and the ports are never ashore.
Phishing your comp told me your secrets
Proclaiming you as the Queen of viruses
So I pray thy Highness, the dimple faced queen of zombies
Retreat with your army to the esteemed Zombieland,
sparing us the slumber trip you take us everytime to Dreamland.

The Utopia

The sky hosted a drama, a riot of colours , rich and elegant
the sea mirrored it, humming along with waves in sync.
The angel beside me bestowed the celestial sight
and showed me the beauty amidst the maze of cement.

They were colours of life, shades of blue and yellow
the colours of the water, the sun,the fire.
They were in harmony, soft and mellow
unlike the grey clouds beneath, the masks of men, unique and dire.

As I held the angel's hand, bending my head in thankfulness and surrender,
I was told that the divine presence soon, wouldnt continue to render.
As the celestial drama descended inside, the loneliness took its toll
and the scales of balance weighed my heart and soul.

As the shimmering waves turned to yellow,
I looked up and saw the tapestry of gold.
The wavering balance stood still
as the beauty of the heavens, the breaths withhold.

The song of life played as a tribute to the grandeur
as the angelic sounds told me of fortitude,
of the rivers of happiness and love that from my heart arise,
of the celestial drama I held in my heart poised.

As the balance regained, loneliness quivered
Though no angel sat beside, the presence prevailed.
Rivers of love joined the celestine in
The Utopia of my dreams that I now in real create.

Getting a whiff of the rat race....

I had never really given a damn about competition. Term me arrogant or term me stupid,it never bothered me enough to even think about it. But it kinda looms like a fact of life u see....its something like, you love it or hate it but you cannot ignore it. I needed my own sweet time to realize that :P Now that I do,its like I am just trying to get my dues.Trying to get what belongs to me.So I am finally in the rat race:) Look around,nearly everything is a rat race.Whether you want it or not,you are a rat running behind that small piece of cheese in front of you which is being hunted by some hundred other rats around you. At least this is how I see the situation I am in. Whether its a traffic jam on your way or its a stampede or a tug of war,it all boils down to one of the million sub classes of the super class rat race.

All we rats are performing our daily ritual.We gather around same old placement office.... where thousands of rats got their respective chunks of cheese and scampered away to their holes for nearly a decade....and then we surrender ourselves to the mystic sounds and movies playing in front of us....a well planned drama rehearsed over and over again in front of rats in some other corner of the city....then we twitch our snouts when they display the size of the cheese chunk in numbers.Then we allow ourselves to be lead to the acid tests where we are held by our tails n dipped in acid which is not even of the same ph level for everyone.For some rats the ph maybe 6.999999 but for some rats it maybe 0.00000001 :P :D so like this all of us enjoy the acid bath and hardly we gets to shake off the acids from our bodies when we are divided into the "eligible" and ''not eligible"....my foot!!! oh sorry....my paw!! :P so the eligible rats dance around for a while and then wait for another round of acid testing and the not eligible rats scamper off hungry to their holes :D this is the ritual. Well I have been in both the situations and I have been hungry and full at times. Yet I am back in ritual because I am unhappy with d quality of cheese that i got:) size honestly does not matter but quality does....I don't want to end up with a revolting stomach you see :D

So I continue watching at the stereotypical web sites with models posing for software professionals, grinning broadly as if they get a 7 digit pay per year ,looking at the corny missions,goals and objectives, and each time I see this well crafted advertisement the only thing that strikes me is the urge to tap on their shoulders and say...Whom are you kidding buddy?:D well its not that they shouldn't advertise them selves but there is a way to do it. There are sensible ways of wooing the sensible folks whom they are so in need of and displaying models is perhaps not quite a sensible way of doing it:) then coming to the point of acid testing and their varying ph levels....they are more of bouncers than issues that can be understood logically.

Considering the fact that such thoughts should occur to me,I get a hint that I might not be a rat after all.Still...while in Rome do as the Romans do.....and I don't think that I am one yet:P:)