tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-258039752024-03-08T06:02:52.305+05:30Love & IllusionsWhat can be worse than the complete agony of being in love? Yet what could possibly be a more enriching experience? Some of these entries arise out of the euphoria of first love and the rape of innocence; the rest reflect the musings of a more mature poet: one who is compelled to accept the absurdity of the transient world, but has the courage to romance it nevertheless. At times it is not even poetic... too brutal to be so. But therein lay the catharsis: purgation of life’s follies.telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-16750724203563008392021-06-10T18:07:00.001+05:302021-06-10T18:08:40.526+05:30TO BLUE<div><br></div><div>A desultory morning bobbed amongst</div><div>The ripples of ache and longing</div><div>Skirting the shores of your thoughts</div><div>And arrived at this evening ennui </div><div><br></div><div>Tomorrow never comes </div><div>I hope tomorrow never will</div><div>Now all I want to think is that you love me </div><div>And pray for solace in that uncertain claim</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-15474612108100031622021-06-10T13:23:00.001+05:302021-06-10T13:23:37.867+05:30Time<div>As the hours grow quaint</div><div>... faint, even</div><div>And weariness and crow's feet </div><div>Emerge in morning mirrors</div><div>'Ten years hence' </div><div>Looms like a phantom </div><div>How would I remain that</div><div>Which you desire? </div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-24388351508498998942020-11-18T19:19:00.001+05:302020-11-18T19:19:59.009+05:30EQUIVOCATION <div><br></div><div>Strange is the heart; it keeps stock of infidelities</div><div>With utmost care, and the breaking of promises</div><div>So many of my lovers have been undeserving</div><div>And yet, to feel tenderness, affection, almost</div><div>Strange is the heart</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-45107388014292709272016-10-24T06:51:00.001+05:302016-10-24T06:51:18.286+05:30MUDDLED <p dir="ltr">Some cold, drowsy mornings <br>
Awaken a sense of loss<br>
Misplacing something vital, but <br>
Je ne sais quoi </p>
<p dir="ltr">Absent-minded mornings <br>
Blurring light and sleep <br>
When I cannot recall if <br>
I dreamt of you last night </p>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-24456929495024090922016-06-22T23:38:00.000+05:302016-06-22T23:38:03.560+05:30LOVE IN THE TIME OF WAR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Your glacial eyes tore my heart apart<br />
Before shifting their gaze<br />
Away, forever<br />
<br />
O how do I grieve the loss of love,<br />
While my people, my land<br />
Are raped by the King's men? </div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0National Institute of Technology, Sector 1, Rourkela, Odisha, India22.2512261 84.90628990000004722.2365296 84.886119900000054 22.2659226 84.92645990000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-81619524314702260152016-05-22T16:14:00.001+05:302016-05-22T16:14:58.161+05:30SHUTTERS<p dir="ltr">I miss window shutters: <br>
Sunlight split through louvres <br>
Of tapered edges<br>
And bevelled ends <br>
Framed in the warmth<br>
Of wood that bears<br>
Cuneiform scriptures<br>
On brittle palimpsest<br>
Of myriad paint-jobs, <br>
Which had vainly attempted<br>
To cover the crow's feet<br>
And whirling laugh lines<br>
Of droll, old trees. </p>
<p dir="ltr">These factory-produced,<br>
light, and cold<br>
aluminium sections, <br>
Forever shuffle <br>
a feet and a half<br>
each way, each day. <br>
They lack the animation<br>
Of rusty iron hinges<br>
Opening wide embraces<br>
In perfectly pivoted,<br>
graceful arcs<br>
To left, to right. <br>
Perhaps their banality<br>
Is a fitting companion<br>
To the naked view<br>
Of the unfettered glazing. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Think, instead,<br>
Of nine square nine inches<br>
In ground glass, panelled, <br>
At the upper reaches<br>
Of the louvered shutters<br>
Beyond the inquisitive eyes. <br>
Nestled in between<br>
Would be a slender tower bolt, <br>
The curve of its knob<br>
Felt in daily caresses<br>
As distant and acute as your memories.</p>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-68553900373995631182015-07-10T05:09:00.002+05:302015-07-10T05:24:19.683+05:30A POINTLESS LAMENT FOR CHILDREN ABANDONED<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is well past four,<br />
Ante meridiem,<br />
And Insomnus, old friend,<br />
You visit after long.<br />
<br />
On this wet wet night<br />
Ringing with rain,<br />
Chorus of crickets,<br />
And distant rolls of thunder,<br />
My ears miss your soft soft heaving,<br />
My boy, and the twitching<br />
In your dreams,<br />
And the warmth<br />
Of your coat.<br />
<br />
Somewhere by the night<br />
In a cove or cornice<br />
Two sisters keep watch...<br />
Or huddle half wet,<br />
While my girl walks the night,<br />
While my girl prowls the night,<br />
And two spots wait,<br />
And two spots yawn.<br />
<br />
It is well past four,<br />
And a wet wet night<br />
For even the worst<br />
Of fathers<br />
Have known the best<br />
Of love.</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com1Kolkata, West Bengal, India22.572646 88.36389499999995721.6349985 87.073001499999961 23.5102935 89.654788499999952tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-82701799910090417272015-05-30T15:57:00.002+05:302015-05-30T16:00:58.571+05:30A THOUSAND SPLENDID DYSTOPIAS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I write the symbols<br />
Trying to smell them<br />
In memory: that mistress<br />
Of deception, who resides in<br />
And spawns my being<br />
I rummage the smells<br />
In metaphors and processes<br />
The air I breathe<br />
Cat pee, and gardenias<br />
I walk down the corridor<br />
Past room after room<br />
Camphor, sandal, soap<br />
Inscribe the otherness of<br />
Dog-coat, musk, mouldy fish<br />
Transposed in dream<br />
Salty loveless touch<br />
Of bare skin to skin<br />
The unpleasant odour<br />
Of post-coital sweat<br />
Coffee, stale, and rain<br />
Smouldering tobacco<br />
Cat scratches and pustules<br />
With the sticky smell of blood<br />
I write the symbols<br />
For the mistress to note<br />
And reflect in nostalgia<br />
At some future dystopia<br />
On the thousand splendid ones<br />
One has lived through, before.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0Indian Institute of Technology Kharagpur, Kharagpur, West Bengal 721302, India22.3149274 87.31053109999993522.2855484 87.270190599999935 22.344306399999997 87.350871599999934tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-33413789380907606392015-02-17T22:19:00.002+05:302015-02-17T22:20:09.096+05:30RDD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Unannounced, like a winter shower,<br />
You come to my arbour<br />
The skies are grey,<br />
The birdsongs lost<br />
How long shall this affair<br />
Last, this time around?</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-39367806180813738392013-10-20T21:36:00.000+05:302013-10-20T21:36:03.341+05:30AUTUMN-WINTER 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are days<br />When I could be a bird,<br />And days of being<br />A leaf.<br />Autumn rolls on to winter;<br />A pillow sleeps in my embrace.</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-57784624376963739322013-09-15T18:33:00.000+05:302013-09-30T15:14:53.022+05:30ONE OF THOSE DAYS (OR WEEKS)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes I need help,<br />Or chocolate cakes, and lemon tarts<br />I lift a pen; I draw a line,<br />And pretend to be all fine<br />Only to turn in bed,<br />Dreaming flights, falls, and things that smart</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0IIT, IIT Kharagpur, Kharagpur, West Bengal 721302, India22.3186333 87.30308880000006922.3181743 87.302458300000069 22.319092299999998 87.303719300000068tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-79948369004276795032013-04-03T11:05:00.000+05:302014-01-31T11:07:13.927+05:30DUALITY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
*<br />
I moved away,<br />
Started a new life,<br />
But did I move on?<br />
The past still seems real,<br />
The present, just a dream.<br />
<br />
*<br />
I seldom think of you now.<br />
My children sleep.<br />
Pinpricks of rain<br />
Dust my skin in<br />
Slate-grey mornings.<br />
Birds chirp; fans whirr;<br />
Days roll along.<br />
Love resides quietly, hidden.</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0IIT Kharagpur, Kharagpur, West Bengal 721302, India22.3196093 87.31154679999997422.3196093 87.311546799999974 22.3196093 87.311546799999974tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-35360052242356343612013-02-14T10:58:00.000+05:302014-01-31T10:59:45.662+05:30DEATH OF A GRANDCHILD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sitting on the bed<div>
Mercury-lit road-bits</div>
<div>
To the right</div>
<div>
Whislingpiercingshooting trains</div>
<div>
To the left.</div>
<div>
Why should one live?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The eventful life</div>
<div>
Of forefather, to the left</div>
<div>
Ennui and worthless future</div>
<div>
To the right.</div>
<div>
Why must one live?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slowdown,</div>
<div>
Breath,</div>
<div>
Sleep</div>
<div>
Forever.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The hurt shall subside</div>
<div>
Someday.</div>
<div>
When you get over the death</div>
<div>
Of a grandchild.</div>
</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0IIT Kharagpur, Kharagpur, West Bengal 721302, India22.3196093 87.31154679999997422.2902303 87.271206299999974 22.3489883 87.351887299999973tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-12710643503404140312012-09-06T05:28:00.000+05:302012-09-06T05:28:40.720+05:30LET IT RAIN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It is 4:50 in the morning; I couldn't sleep.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
An insomniac night flows on,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
With me sitting up in front of the laptop,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And hearing the tireless drops of rain</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I wonder if you got my sms;</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I wonder what you are up to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I wonder what life has in store</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
For the countless people who are up tonight,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Sitting in front of their laptops,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Not knowing for sure</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Why they cannot sleep</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tomorrow shall be another dawn, another day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tomorrow shall see another night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But it is never the same...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The waters of the river flow by.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
This I of tonight will never again miss</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The you of tonight</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The way I do now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A night car grumbles,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Halts,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And leaves a vanishing trail,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As it heads off to I-know-not-where.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
People are travelling tonight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
People are laughing,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Drinking,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Studying,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Crying,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Making love and dying</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tonight</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
My longing is just one of the things</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Just one person, on this whole wide world, is feeling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Insignificance</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And the insignificant longing curls up my fingers,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And tries to traverse the significant distance between us,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
In an attempt to touch your dreams</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And your lashes harbouring those dreams,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And surreptitiously return to this wet wet world</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Of late night rain and shivering black leaves</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
That can be heard, but not seen, and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Insomniac solitude</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It shall have to return</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Before the new dawn of tomorrow,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The new day of tomorrow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
May be it shall wake up again</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
On another night tomorrow,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But it is never the same.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I grieve the loss of these moments,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
That shall never return –</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The loss of the longings,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
That shall die with dawn, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Never to be fulfilled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Allow me to grieve them before I raise a toast</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
To new longings of newer nights</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Let it rain.</div>
</div>
telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-16000164907388121942012-07-06T22:32:00.000+05:302012-07-06T23:09:38.196+05:30FEVER, MONSOON<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I miss your arms</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Twining around me</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
In a cool, comforting embrace,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A thumb grazing my collar bone,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Your knee snuggled behind mine</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And how you would suddenly ask</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A random prosaic question,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Heightening the habit of domesticity</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The evening is accosted</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
By apparitions of loving limbs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Mingled with the smell</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Of damp laundry</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Nine thirty-seven,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Pee em.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
That odd part of a day,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
When it is too late to socialize,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But too early to be intimate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Anyhow, I could afford neither.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Penny and Julio busy themselves in catfights.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tooth-paste.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Night-clothes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Para-ceta-mol…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A million milestones to go before I sleep</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A million miles to go before I sleep.</span></div>
</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-70229210930690452802012-06-08T07:45:00.000+05:302012-06-08T07:45:20.572+05:30REPRISTINATION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As another morning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Tiptoes through darkness</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Serenely sighing, and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Stretching sleepy limbs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
To birdsong,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Love sheds all resentments,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Coiling content beneath</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
A pool of cool comfort,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Rippled with sleep and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Delirium.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And how many regrets would</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
You twine round your ankles?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The best measure of life is</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Found in its moments</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Of madness.</div>
<br />
</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-51329404462717478262012-06-05T01:33:00.000+05:302012-06-05T01:33:27.011+05:30HAIR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Twirling, black, wet</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Decapitated vanity</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Scattered on the floor</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Did you look away, as we made love that night?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Did we make love that night?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Did we ever make love?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Because I hungered for that</div>
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Which I never deserved,</div>
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Because I hunger for that</div>
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Which I cannot have,</div>
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Each night, a zombie with haunted hair</div>
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Traverses a mobius strip of nostalgia</div>
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Someday I’ll kill the beast</div>
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And bathe these tresses in its blood</div>
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Twirling, red, wet</div>
</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-11953479902643690932012-01-12T00:24:00.000+05:302012-01-12T00:25:39.887+05:30JULIO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>No poem was good enough for Julio, so here is a love story. It lasted not more than a week, but what seems like a lifetime. That is the magic of love, I suppose: it allows you to live several lifetimes in one.</em></div>
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It was a severely cold January when I met him first: the third day of the new year. A handful of students, who had stayed back on campus during the vacation, flocked at the market, probably trying to hold on to the elusive festive spirit the way I was. The queue at the <em>golgappa</em> stall meant I had to wait. There he was, sitting still like a stone, not trying to avoid but ignore the trampling of the crowd engrossed with their savoury delights: a wet, cold and terrified ball of fur.</div>
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Why doesn’t anyone bother to move him away from there? I realized I could just as well be that anyone. Picking him up was no trouble, but putting him down proved to be a challenge; he would meow his way back into my arms, and soon enough, into my heart. There was no way the authorities would allow scholars to keep pets at the hostel, but it took me not more than ten minutes to decide on gifting the poor dear a home. How strange is it for someone who never identified as a cat-person for thirty-two years? I suppose it does not matter, for I did no adopt a sick, shivering, frightened little kitten that day; he adopted me.</div>
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What does one name a white-and-brown kitten, with whiskers only on his right side? ‘PoMo’ was an instant hit with my friends and associates (yes, you are allowed to snigger at the myopic vision of the architecture academia), while ‘Baburam’ came to me naturally. For a while, I also contemplated on names with an initial R, thinking of christening my new-found love in memory of the love lost. In the end, I decided it was all unfit, as it had to be about him and not about me. Julio, a sad pun on <em>hulo,</em>was an epiphany, possibly somewhat catalyzed by Paul Simon’s music.</div>
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***</div>
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Two days after we met, returning from my morning class, I found myself in my room with no trace of Julio; not even a suspended Cheshire smile. The only way out of the locked room could have been my second floor balcony, but all I could see form there was a completely different cat sun-bathing on an assortment of rubbish piled below. I do not remember what it felt like (or I am too embarrassed to admit it), but I reached out for a pack ominously imprinted with ‘smoking kills’, and in spite of having no hope, slowly trudged down the stairs to inspect the site of the possible accident. The gentleman was sitting there all huddled up and frightened just the way I had found him not too long back; thanks to his patchy coat, I had been unable to make out his divine presence from the upper floor. How is it that I felt lighter on my way back, even though I was carrying him then?</div>
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Julio seemed to have learnt his lesson: after that day, he didn’t venture too far off the room unless I was in visible proximity. I started to leave the doors ajar, and even if he bolted out with his natural sense of responsibility to enquire the cause of strange sounds and smells, I knew it would not take him farther than the stair-landing, and he would scamper back the moment I went up to him and walked him back to the room.</div>
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I collected several pieces of common knowledge: tom-cats do not make the best of pets, and do not recognize anything beyond momentary self-interest. I kept preparing myself for the day he was old enough to run away and fend for himself, and regularly mentioned the immediate possibility of such an occurrence in my casual conversations with friends, possibly trying to convince myself I was comfortable with the idea. However, I wished for it to be a distant reality, and, may be subconsciously, hoped for it to never happen.</div>
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***</div>
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A kitten made a father out of a silly love-lorn bachelor, and almost mended his erratic, whimsical lifestyle. There is no way you can stay up all night, aimlessly surfing the internet, if your bundle of joy creeps up on your lap, and demands to be caressed to sleep. A few times I had tried quietly lifting him off my chest, and putting him down on the blanket, thinking he was fast asleep, but he would just open those drowsy eyes, and without much ado, crawl back onto me. He made me choose between an exciting flux of virtual socializing and a singular but living, breathing, meowing love; reality won.</div>
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Gone with the nights of insomnia, were the days of waking up at noon and lunch for breakfast. He would be up early, but strangely, never made me get up until I was ready to; though, with my first foot down on the floor, his reprimanding ensued. I could never be quick enough to stir up his platter of morning milk without feeling guilty of making him wait for it too long… far too long; Julio sure knew how to sound plaintive. His thirst quenched, he would make an amusing display of the proverbial feline curiosity: running after bits of paper, fallen leaves and bugs, pulling at shoe-strings, pajama draw-strings and belt straps, hunting slippers and shampoo bottles, inspecting laptop keyboards, and exploring the dark worlds hidden behind doors, suitcases and cupboard shutters. It did not go on for long though, for my kitten was even more capricious than me. My attempts at starting the day’s work had to be punctuated to personally entertain him with kill-the-ball combat trainings, come-bite-my-finger drills, and okay-I-shall-brush-you-to-make-you-purr routines.</div>
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All of a sudden, I was left with no time to even consider how laid-back and easy-going my life was a week ago. I had to keep running to and from the shops, buying pail, jar, fish and milk to arrange for his meals, bucket, mops and disinfectants to clean his shit, a ball to keep him entertained, a pair of slippers to replace the ones he had ripped apart, and of course the injections I had to take because he had scratched, and made me bleed. Add to that the hurried bicycle rides back to the hostel room, flung between classes and café-symposiums, to replenish his pail, clean up after him, and check if he is lonely. Surprisingly, now that I <em>had</em> to be busy for him, I suddenly found all the time I needed to complete the work I had piled up over months, thanks to my erstwhile, incurable procrastination. Winter too was kind; the chill gave way to days of sunshine and I was full of energy. A friend rightly remarked: was I a blessing for him, or was he one for me? Life works in strange ways; one of the strangest of them is love.</div>
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My friends also supplied a continuous string of complaints: I was smothering him, bothering him, restraining his freedom, and making him incapable of fending for himself. Sometimes I wondered if I had done worse with my lost love, and backed away, but never for more than a few hours. Julio accepted my continual attentions with only occasional and feeble objections. He would meow now and then when I cycled with him haltered in a scarf, and protest by pushing off my hands when I cleaned his ears with cotton-buds or pick out fleas. Other than the bathing, which happened just once, there was nothing that he wouldn’t agree to, once I managed to catch him by the collar.</div>
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***</div>
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It had been an exhausting day at the university, and gulping down my black coffee I rushed back home to see my feline son. Taking him up in my arms gave me the usual sense of eternal bliss. Julio had had an extra pail of milk with his fish lunch, but I decided to give him another extra pre-dinner serving; he did seem hungry. Leaving behind half of the warm milk, Julio suddenly bolted out of the door. I went after him after a while, and was alarmed to see him not on the corridor anymore. But a flight of steps down, he was loitering around: I would like to believe, waiting for me to join him. Each time I went to collect him, he went down another flight. Finally, I quit following him and just let him go on. I was simultaneously annoyed at his new-found audacity, expecting and hoping he would return looking for me any minute, scared of being all alone and away from his father, reasoning and defending his action against my own emotions (after all, my room was too small to keep him entertained), questioning the adequacy of his diet, and disoriented by the idea of spending the night alone, with Julio somewhere out there being preyed on by the many tom-cat thugs.</div>
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I went out for a cup of coffee and promised myself I shall not look for him… after all he is sure to come back at night looking for the warm milk, the warm blanket, and the warmth of my caress. A pragmatic and rather mean alter ego reminded me that it was equally likely that I may never see him. On my way back, convincing myself I am not looking for him, I went down to the courtyard while trying to figure out an alternative reason for going there. Julio was amongst the other cats, and did not run away when I caught him by the collar; I was relieved to take him up in my arms.</div>
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As I walked back up the stairs, I realized he didn’t really like it. Even if I was doing what I thought was best for him, who was I to decide that anyway? Wasn’t I just being selfish in love? As he struggled to get off, I gently put him down on the steps and watched him run away, without a valedictory meow.</div>
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At night I went around looking for him one last time, but all the cats of the world seemed to have gone to their hidden world. I console myself: Julio must have found his place amongst his kind. Winter has suddenly decided to come back with all severity, and I just hope he finds a warm spot for himself.</div>
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***</div>
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I expect to spot him sometime amongst the other cats down at the courtyard, surreptitiously waiting below the concrete benches, and running after morsels of food carelessly dropped by the university scholars. At night, I keep my door unbolted and a platter of warm milk ready.</div>
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In the end, like all love, it is about learning to let go.</div>
</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-80278104378771481502011-12-31T16:47:00.003+05:302011-12-31T16:47:39.733+05:30PLUNGE SINK DROWN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Singed breath and twitching limbs in</div>
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Liquid sleep gushing onto ‘morrow</div>
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With blended dreams of rage and longing</div>
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A cloudy morn in its ebb</div>
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A tortured night in its tide</div>
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What would it take to get over that smile?</div>
</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-90640180096446580082011-12-20T00:42:00.000+05:302011-12-20T01:09:30.780+05:30STRANGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why conduct a cacophony<br />
Of my unrequited longing?<br />
O! Not all love need be declared<br />
Some sorrows may suffer smiling<br />
And so I'm strange, as a stranger<br />
Should be. Strange, thy name is me.<br />
<br /></div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-18231134305996192262011-11-18T12:00:00.000+05:302011-11-19T00:31:32.895+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes I think: do you think of me sometimes?<br />
<br /></div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-87039667596429150632011-11-15T02:28:00.001+05:302011-11-15T02:44:09.899+05:30INSOMNIA 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A metronomic ceiling fan measures my hearbeats: a deja vu of separation.<br />
<br />
I remember your brow against my breast; do you remember my stifled sobs from the next bedroom?<br />
<br />
Now the night alone thinks of me tenderly.</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-73895492286510439452011-11-11T22:16:00.001+05:302011-11-13T14:22:37.629+05:30PROPHYLACTIC<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The dear doctor decided<br />
I should be cured, forever<br />
Neither pain, nor anguish<br />
No more tears<br />
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Now, I look at you smiling<br />
From the LCD screen, and<br />
In vain, search for sorrows<br />
Familiar<br />
<br />
Only a faint memory<br />
Of a tortured existence<br />
Murmurs from across keyholes<br />
<br />
May be the dear doctor meant<br />
I would be fine, forever<br />
As the pills give love parole</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-43126070961297873542011-10-29T16:29:00.000+05:302011-10-29T16:34:28.680+05:30BLUEBERRY NIGHTS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am here now,<br />
And you are over there,<br />
But our time<br />
(It was good) is gone.<br />
<br />
Time<br />
Never leaves us the same,<br />
And if I step across that door,<br />
Friends would meet as strangers<br />
<br />
I'll never step across<br />
That door<br />
Being scared?<br />
Or obstinate.<br />
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Life was good<br />
Life still is<br />
Life shall be<br />
As always.<br />
<br />
I await my blueberry nights.<br />
Wish me luck;<br />
I think I know you would<br />
Love.</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25803975.post-28894680008526185002011-10-27T01:15:00.000+05:302011-10-27T19:25:09.110+05:30Deepavali<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
People laughing close by<br />
Laughing, talking, shouting, screaming<br />
Bursting crackers too<br />
Merry people close by<br />
<br />
I disapprove<br />
Why must you disturb my slumber?<br />
The somnambulist that I am<br />
Walking through life in a daze<br />
<br />
All you people close by<br />
Go elsewhere;<br />
You must have better things to do<br />
Than heighten my sense of alienation<br />
<br />
It is official now: I hate festivities.<br />
<br />
When did I last tell you that I miss you?<br />
Or did I ever?</div>telperionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06529560960153128192noreply@blogger.com2