"Chain choking"

I choked, gasped for air, waiting to die
But it won't come that easy, sometimes even life tells a lie
Amidst the fuzzy blindness, I thought this was it
I called for help, "Let me go", sinking into the thickness bit by bit..

Inching my way through the lights, I looked for a sign,a way
Pushing and punching, "Move away" I said, no mercy for these beings today
But the music blinded the blind, noise and revelry blocked every turn
On the run against the army of chimney heads, my stomach began to churn.

There must be a rule, or simple decency as it's known to me
Not to blow your insides on my face, and pretend like you don't see
I dashed to the exit, my last resort to escape,a lunatic's release
Held myself together, just in time, before I forgot how to breathe.

Finally out of the watering hole, where my precious lungs were on display
I coughed out fumes, of anger and habits alike, determined to have my say;
"Smoke if you will, honestly I don't care, it's really your wish
As long as my life, mere as it maybe, isn't puffed away as your side-dish!"

"Talk to me"

You catch me by surprise
No blinking eyelids
No emotional ties.
Yet I like what I hear
It's like me whispering
In my own ear.

The subtle comfort of knowing
You are proud
You are growing.
Yet you call out to me
And pull the suspense out
Of the very mystery.

Fate forced it's entry
Blinding you
Blinding me.
Yet there is a perspective
Like I am a student to
A teacher still learning to live.

The resemblance is uncanny
Sound of a broken heart
Sound of a bended knee.
Yet your parcel of hopes new
Makes me wonder if it doesn't hurt
As much as it's meant to.

You are not more than friend
No names unreal
No games to end.
Yet on our imaginary walk
It feels like you and I met
Just so we could talk...

"Playing on loop"

I listen to the radio
And hear the words again
It feels like a movie soundtrack
Fictional, perfect and sane.

The music plays on
It's just another day
And it will pass
In the same old way

As time goes by
The song repeats,lost & found
It feels like a giant wheel ride
Which goes round and round.

The sun fades away
It's just another day
And it will pass
In the same old way

I think to myself
The same thoughts I did yesterday
And they touch my chords
In a warm yet familiar way.

The mind goes to bed
It's just another day
And it will pass
In the same old way.

Who stole my Christmas?

It's here. That time of the year. The season to be jolly- whether pretend or real. Everyone puts on their happy faces, wear their selflessness hats and skip around with a bounce in their gait.

It's here. That time of the year. The season where you wonder what's wrong if you are not feeling the zing, the vibe, the cheer.

It's here. That time of the year when families mean something. Acquaintances become friends and relatives become loved ones.

It's here. That time of the year when I usually feel like being.

But this year the feeling's amiss.

It feels gray - because someone coloured in black & white.
It feels wet - because someone taught the sun to cry.
It feels wrong - because someone scribbled all over the right.

I can't hear the jingles...and I know who to blame.

Because bitterness can taste sweet.....

.....and words can mean what they read.

I thought to myself today- what do my poems mean to me?

I have been writing poems ever since I can remember holding a pen. First were the untidy scribbles which meant no more than ABC, and then came the better, bolder lines which to me, were an insight into my being. Through the years my words have matured, but the themes have remained personal. In my poems I give to the world what it has given me in so many ways. Every line that I have written has been a personal experience, an adventure an observation, or merely a need in my life. But each has taught me a lesson which couldn’t be learnt any other way. Each has made me think, reflect, improve and find that glinting ray of satisfaction we all hope for. My poems are my karma, my repentance, my healing, my escape and my pride. In short, they’re the 'purity' in me.

For every painful experience, there is a solace in knowing that the bad won’t be forever. My poems are that solace. In my words I find the healing I yearn, and in my poems I reveal that antidote to the world.

When I shut down, words come from within me. And that to me - is Poetry.

A Halloween Story

I had written this for a Halloween Charity event we hosted at work. Though it was never used due to lack of space on our posters, I decided to post it on my blog anyway.

Our theme was Pirates and Pixies and the chosen Charity, Make a Wish Singapore.

A pirate short & rugged
With eye patch evil black,
Comes to town sailing
With a rather heavy sack.

He sets the sack down
And looks left and right,
Then pulls out a smiling pixie
With eyes shining bright

With a swoosh of a wand
And colours: green, orange, red,
There appears out of nowhere
A signboard which read:

"Trick or treat
with a slight twist,
A pirate, a pixie
And a wish-list.

Make your donations
For a worthy cause,
If we're in a good mood
We may even applause.

Any amount is welcome
We won't give you a glance,
And if you are generous
The pixie will do a dance!

In return we offer
A gift from our sack,
And for every wish answered
You get many smiles back!"

They set this beside them
Waiting with goodies proud,
Playfully performing antics
And attracting the crowd.

So look out for this magic
A miracle truly to be seen
Together a Pirate & Pixie
Reveal the true meaning of Halloween!

"Up against a wall"

He walked into the door, the man I thought I loved much
And sat by my bedside, stroking my hair with his warm touch.
I knew it was time to make a decision, a decision unfair, untrue
I knew his affection was real, yet it was meant to woo.

I lay still, pretending not to understand the silence I knew so well
He looked at me with water in his eyes, eyes that to me were once swell.
I avoided the glare, I knew I would lose the battle I had considered won
I went through my options, options that were none.

Glimspes of the past few months pierced my heart, my aching soul
I thought if I kept sleeping the pain would go away, disappear as a whole.
But it was all true, she was gone and he had taken a stand, no questions asked
Sitting by my bedside I felt the tears, and I knew my answers won't last.

I turned away, he walked out of the room silently closing the door behind him
He took with him his expectations and support, and I knew I couldn't win.
So I closed my eyes again, attempted to dress the wounds that didn't show
And I prayed with my heart and soul to her, so she would never let go.

I pictured her sitting beside me, radiating feelings, warm and fragrant always
It helped me gather my thoughts and wisdom, which played a cat & mouse game.
Wiping my tears, I crept out of bed, and though I had no answers on the wall
I knew I couldn't pick between love & love, I was weak, so I decided not to pick at all.

"Choices"

I stare at a piece of driftwood
Floating, his mind & water in sync,
Until the fork in the river
Decides his fate without a blink.

He was no drinker
Who could make or break his own,
Yet the watery bed in command
Took his life for loan.

Choices we all have
Choices we don't know
Choices we choose
And those we let go...

The stream later widened
Into an ocean crystal blue,
But a patch of green devil
Held him behind like glue.

He was not a cheater
Who left his wife sore,
Yet at the turn of opportunity
His luck went ashore.

Choices we all have
Choices we don't know
Choices we choose
And those we let go...

He struggled with the enemy
Attempting to break through,
But the forces of nature mighty
Broke his life in two.

He was no coward
Who wrongly accused a friend,
He was only drifting
When others decided his end.

Choices we all have
Choices we don't know
Choices we choose
And those we let go...

"A journey that was, a feeling that is"

Ever had those days when acquaintances become experiences?

I had always wondered what this day would be like. Nervous, reserved, even quiet to an extent. Yes, me and quiet. Two words which I thought never went side by side. I sat there understanding myself, my place there, thinking of her every moment and what she would have said to me before, during and after it all happened. Everything around me moved at a noticeable pace and yet I felt still as a statue. An insider from outside. That is what I was.

A journey I didn't think I'd make alone. A journey that I had imagined with a person, not only her memories in my head. A journey that I thought would be discussed amidst teasers and giggles after it was made. A journey common yet momentous.

As the train chugged forward, I watched the fields outside outrun the train and my thoughts. I tried to read but it was impossible to concentrate. I had drawn a picture in my mind. A picture of people, a cosy house, and feelings. Feelings which were alien and were to become familiar one day. Feelings which would feel warm yet different, and laughter that would sound routine yet particular. And me. That I would merge in just as the colours of the rainbow outside the window. That I would remain me, and yet feel like someone new.

What I felt when it all came alive in front of me I cannot comprehend. But I think it was near perfection, which is sometimes better than perfection itself. At least it seemed like it was, given my prior inexperience in the matter. The evening proceeded as quickly as it stood in front of me. Wine and dine, questions and curiosity, judgements and jokes all blended into an identity I was soon to learn by heart.

Before I knew it I was on my way back, same train, similar thoughts, varied company, a new experience and darkness. Darkness outside that engulfed my moments as I gathered them one by one to store away as a reminiscence. And her who I hugged as a presence that would always be felt.

It's done. All over now. And it feels easy or at least easier if I were to do it a second time round. Hope I never have to. Hope this experience never becomes an acquaintance again. Hope this is it.

"Through the looking glass"

She was standing in a corner
When I saw her mope,
She was standing with her fate
Trying to cope.

The thought of being alone
One of its kind,
The thought that made her think
Was rushing through her mind.

She tried to pick herself up
And with that her dignity, fame,
She tried to conceal the sorrow
But it made her look the same.

There was an overwhelming feeling
Of deceit and hope and pain,
There was an inclination to transform
Into a Nobody;a plain Jane.

She wished he would come
Come for himself, not for her
She wished she could wish
And no longer suffer.

The people that were once
Were now people new,
The people who mattered
Could be counted as few.

So she left it at that
And did what she does best,
She left herself to be found
And wept, wept.

She was standing in a corner
When I saw her last,
She was standing with an emptiness
That was growing fast.

"Riding with you"

This one's for Gayatri - to the good times and bad.

Through the crystal ball
I pen you down
In black and white
To reverse that frown.

Starting with a glimpse
Of an ever changing past
Here are stories of our life
That has gone by fast.

This is the time
When we first met,
Agitated and agonised
Your patience was at test.
You warned me
'Its too hard', you said
I smiled
And knew I'd made a friend.

And there is the day
When we wore hats proud
"Class of 2004", it said
Bold and loud.
From teen-nights to townhalls
From day one to the next
A journey long, yet short
We walked similar footsteps.

Change of scenes, from a nook
Peeps an image of you
This story describes
The person in view.
Excited, cheerful, strong
In all situations fair
Ever proud and smiling
Of her long shiny hair.

Suddenly a period painful
Shows up its ugly head
But we struggle
And put it back to bed.
Tears and apologies
Were not all that low
It was a trying time
But it made us grow!

It ends with a picture
Of us smiling wide
Through the ups and downs
We stand side by side.
There is a noise
In the background gray
But we rise above it
And know its all ok.

As the images closed
And we turned into a dot
Popped up a flashing question
With an intriguing thought.

'Erase unwanted stories?'it asked
I jumped, could I do so?
But I smiled at the devil
And clicked on 'No'.

"In search of a Soul"

Here I go
Fly away
A pre-mature leg
On a mature day.

Go as I had come
Feel as I did
Stepping forward into the past
With nothing to bid.

Hunger, anxiety, solitude
All friends of mine
I think of no tomorrow
And go back in time.

Some smile, some don't
I feel the pressure
Of decisions and life
And being as I were.

I Let go of one
Yet hold on
Promise to look back
For the moments gone.

I feel strong
Like never before
My heart feels the pain
And my eyes are sore.

Bag in one hand
In another my mess
I clutch to the feeling
Of nothing-ness.

I listen hard
Two devils at my neck
One screams "Go"!
The other is a wreck.

So, here I go
Fly away
A pre-mature goodbye
To learn the mature way.

"Framed"

I looked at it
Looked at it with care.
Beautiful and green,
With the sun kissing its edges
And peeping through the leaves,
There was a bird
A bird casual yet rare.
And grass and children playing,
But what caught my eye
Was what no-one was saying,
In the silence
The silence of the air.
Behind the scene,
In a glimpse hid someone
And could barely be seen,
But I saw you
Saw you clear and tall.
Sitting with your face in a book,
Under the Neem tree
With that ever familiar look,
You spoke to me
Spoke about unsaid things.
Slightly blurry and far,
Yet so near
Almost in my arms,
I looked harder
Looked to see those eyes.
Eyes I loved and knew
You turned to the camera,
Curious and new
I thought
Thought of so many things.
But mostly that you're there,
In the corner of the green
And that's my share,
I stare at it
Stare with a wonder grin.
You weren't meant to be in it at all
And now I have a speck
Of you on my wall,
I love the picture
This picture I took once.
Not because it's happy,
But because it has a power, You
And You love Me.

"Global warNing"

I buy 3 and sell 5
Make more money, live right
In the process I save trees
Or so I am told at-least.

If the wind is blowing west
I can put my strategy to test,
Watch the prices do tricks today
And wager the dewdrops in May.

No grazing cattle in the farms
No falling snow in my arms,
De-value the abundant, value the rare
Humans vs the polar bear.

I set my mind to work the books
But ignore the ever innocent looks,
Profit, governments, policies to sustain
People say they're not all in vain.

Walking in the Sunday mall
Built over the equatorial forest's fall,
I sense the mercury rise as hate
In degrees Centigrade.

Just then a man runs to me making a din
Says his lungs are filled with emission,
I must have sold him credits spare
This is the part when I show I care.

I look apologetic, say I'm sorry
Next time I'll do him a Buy-2-get-1-free,
Saved for now, back to the game
Of care, concern & speeches of fame.

Its vast, its political, its free-range
I work with climate change,
Want some pollution by the bay?
Its selling free today.

"Hobnobs and Fraternizing Bobs"

Time and again I have been forced, or rather put in sitations to evaluate the meaning of friends, and friendship. To understand my definition, and then put into perspective others take on it, and acknowledge there is a gap. A broad one.

Since I moved to Hong Kong, 7 months ago, I have thought over this topic ever so often and I may have reached a conclusion. But then, it might not be a conclusive one, and may be re-visited in a few months. Till then, here are my thoughts. Friends to me are (very simply) people who are there when you need them. Not only in happy-go-lucky times, but of course in sad, pressing times as well. They tell you whats right from wrong, but at the same time let you make your mistakes. This is probably the same cliche definition a 5th grader is taught while in school, and holds in his/her heart while reaching out to make life long relationships. And this is the same definition which taught me how to pick my friends, my very many good friends. And I have done a rather decent job at that, if I may say so myself.

Why was it then when I moved to HK, I felt there was a subtle noise in this city which prevented people from understanding this definition? It could very well be a function of me being here for 7 odd months, out of which 2 were spent settling in, another 2 back home in India and 1 in a rather anti-social mood, leaving 2 to judge the crowd, which, in all honestly, is hardly fair. Having said that, in those 2 months, amidst the long working hours (which have persisted since day1 in the city), I noticed something unusual. Something very typical to HK, and that is the concept of Transient friends.

Transient friends to me are the people who hang out, have fun, know each other (not in the true sense of the word), kiss each other goodbye when moving away, and may or may not keep in touch. But they are also those who would never know when their friend is sick, is missing from a night of hard partying (possible passed out somewhere!) or is having a baby once he/she moves away from the city. They are however, as enthusiastic about your housewarming as your leaving drinks, will be the first to ask you if you feel better, just so you could go out again, and possible not remember you name the entire weekend thanks to the grueling hangover they presented to you(and themselves). They are what I'd like to say, a booty call -without the booty. Always there, never care. Always up for fun, never facing the gun. Always in need, never indeed.

I suppose its the flavour of the city which suits this sort of lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, I think HK is a great place to have fun, but to me, fun loses its essence if not had with the right people. People move in and move out all the time. They come here, work hard, party hard, and say their goodbyes. I can't blame them, but I feel sorry for those who have to settle for this and be fooled to believe this is something true. Maybe they are afraid to open up to someone who might just pack up and depart in an instant, or they are happier being a mystery. Whatever the reason may be, somewhere deep down I hold a lot of resentment and anger towards such people. Possibly because I feel strongly about the meaning of friendship, and they thwart my definition (and are yet having fun!). Maybe it’s jealousy, jealousy towards those in the world who can live without needing another. Amazement that they can pick up their lives, sans any emotional baggage, and live in another city exactly the same way as they did in the previous, and with probably as many transient friends. I don't feel comfortable giving them the title of jet-setters, go-getters, trend-setters or anything fancy. They, to me, are merely deprived of the one thing that teaches you how to care about another. They are, as harsh as it may sound, clueless.

The two takes on friendship leave me as baffled as before. There are those who genuinely seem to enjoy such relationships, and are far from being out at sea, then there are others (like myself) who would not hear anything off it. I like to make friendships which would last me a lifetime. I like to go out with people who understand why i'm there with them in the first place. And I like to place my bets with those who would pick me up if I were to fall. As far as I'm concerned, I rather be a 5th grader my entire life. After all, it carried me this far. So for better or for worse, I may as well be making a premature judgment of the city & the people, but the vibes have failed to do their part. And to give benefit of the doubt, the opinion may change if I were around longer. Unfortunately, I have so such luxury.

Till the noise lessens, and the decision heals, I shall sit on my side of the road and watch the gap diminish.

"Tomorrow"

There she is
Touching the silver line
Despite the clouds which surround it
She is doing fine, just fine

She has a plan
But she doesn't know it yet
She has a plan
And it's her best bet

She looks at him
He tells her she is not wrong
And even in those blistering moments
She is producing a song

She has a plan
But she doesn't know it yet
She has a Future
Who she hasn't met

He lets her cry
So she smells of tears
But her face is that of a girl
One that a woman fears

She has a plan
But she doesn't know it yet
She will create a new picture
But for now, the canvas is wet

The space crowds her
And she struggles to keep him in view
She may have lost a life
But got a moment in lieu

She has a plan
But she doesn't know it yet
She has an answer
But the question lies in debt.

--Dear Mom--

I wrote this a month ago but didn't have the heart to put it up. Amidst all the sadness, solitude and sniffles I have the courage to say that these words in reality come to me from her- I only pen them down.

This one's for mom, you'll always be with me...


The little girl
Red, white, polka dots
Sparkling in her manners
Sat, separating her toys in lots

The maid beside her
Watched, fed, stood
Every word had a story
To feed what little she could

The prize was priceless
Home, Caresses and Mom
And the condition simple,
The cookie had to be gone

Whilst she cried
Tears, Temper, little frowns
The maid insisted she eat up
Before her stomach growls

I looked on, fascinated
Ideas,insanity, mind swirls
Could this be a way to find Mom?
If only I were the little one with curls

'Eat my cookie, and go back to mom?'
Heavenly, impossible, childish
In my madness I let me believe
God may grant me that wish

It was worth a shot
Helpless, Desperate, Sour
I ran into the house
To find that cookie jar

Grabbing a handful
Dramatic, Juvenile, in Fear
I wolfed down the bits
Awaiting that prize so dear

Eyes tight shut
Waiting, Counting, seeing no other
By now even the little girl had gone home
Home to her mother.

But I felt nothing, went nowhere
Only pain, pain, pain
I was still in the park
Going insane.

So I yelled out loud
Hopeful, Silly, searching her
'Look God, I have finished my cookie'
But, He chose not to answer...

"Cosmo"

A minute's moment
Gives a world of perspective,
And an aroma mild
Says I shall live.

My world slows down
Surroundings run a race,
The feeling lingers
And I come back to base.

A second passes
And then two, three,
My mind is filled with memories
And I feel revived, free.

A sip of caffeine
Transports me to that feeling,
Feeling of belonging
And instinctly makes me sing.

The tunes on the radio
Called out my name,
And after days of being a stranger
I now felt the same.

Gathering myself
I quickly drew a smile white,
It felt like a skill new
Like learning to fly a kite.

I always understood
The power of a happy breeze,
But I only learnt today
That it's the effect of it I sieze.

So I soaked it in
The happiness that is,
And snatched my four-leaf clover
From ME, the pessimist.

I then stood still
Wide-eyed, brightly lit,
To cherish the instant
That healed better than it bit.