"Stations"

Some women love
to wait
for life for a ring
in the June light for a touch
of the sun to heal them for another
woman's voice to make them whole
to untie their hands
put words in their mouths
form to their passages sound
to their screams for some other sleeper
to remember their future their past.

Some women wait for the right
train in the wrong station
in the alleys of morning
for the noon to holler
the night come down.

Some women wait for love
to rise up
the child of their promise
to gather from earth
what they do not plant
to claim pain for labor
to become
the tip of an arrow to aim
at the heart of now
but it never stays.

Some women wait for visions
that do not return
where they were not welcome
naked
for invitations to places
they always wanted
to visit
to be repeated.

Some women wait for themselves
around the next corner
and call the empty spot peace
but the opposite of living
is only not living
and the stars do not care.

Some women wait for something
to change and nothing
does change
so they change
themselves.

~Audrey Lorde

"Sham"

shaam bhi koi jese hai nadi, lehr lehr jese beh rahi hai
koi an-kahi, koi an-suni, baat dheeme dheeme keh rahi hai
kahin na kahin jaagi huwi hai koi aarzu
kahin na kahin khoey huwe se hain main aur tu

ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain khamosh donon
ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain madhosh donon
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen
jo kehti sunti hain yeh nigaahain
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen, hai naa?

suhaani suhaani hai yeh kahaani, jo khaamoshi sunaati hai
jise tu ne chaaha, hoga woh tera, mujhe woh yeh bataati hai
main magan hun, par na jaanun, kab aane wala hai woh pal
haule haule dheere dheere khile ga dil kahin to

ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain khamosh donon
ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain madhosh donon
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen
jo kehti sunti hain yeh nigaahain
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen, hai naa?


yeh kesa same hai, kesa samaan hai, ke shaam hai bigar rahi
yeh sab kuch haseen hai, sab kuch jawaan hai, hai zindagi machal rahi
jagmagaati jhilmilaati palak palak pe khuwaab hai
sun yeh hawaaen gungunaaen jo geet laajawaab hai

ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain khamosh donon
ke boom boom boom ta ra ta ra, hain madhosh donon
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen
jo kehti sunti hain yeh nigaahain
jo gumsum gumsum hai yeh fizaen, hai naa?

~Amit Trivedi, Nikhil D'Souza (for Aisha)

From "The Castle"

“I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.”

~Franz Kafka

"Something Good"

[Maria:]
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somwhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth

For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

[Captain:]
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should

[Maria:]
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

[Maria and the Captain:]
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could

[Maria:]
So somewhere in my youth
[Captain:]
Or childhood

[Maria:]
I must have done something . . .

[Maria and the Captain:]
Something good

"Eating Together"

I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know
how thick her hair used to be,
and what it takes for her to discard
her man's cap partway through our meal,
to look straight at the young waiter
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what's killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,
puffy from medication. She lowers
her eyes to the food, pretending
not to know what I know. She's going.
And we go on eating.

~Kim Addonizio

"The Workers"

they laugh continually
even when
a board falls down
and destroys a face
or distorts a
body
they continue to
laugh,
when the color of the eye
becomes a fearful pale
because of the poor
light
they still laugh;
wrinkled and imbecile
at an early age
they joke about it:
a man who looks sixty
will say
I'm 32, and
then they'll laugh
they'll all laugh;
they are sometimes let
outside for a little air
but are chained to return
by chains they would not
break
if they could;
even outside, among
free men
they continue to laugh,
they walk about
with a hobbled and inane
gait
as if they'd lost their
senses; outside
they chew a little bread,
haggle, sleep, count their pennies,
gaze at the clock
and return;

sometimes in the confines
they even grow serious
a moment, they speak of
Outside, of how horrible
it must be
to be
shut Outside
forever, never to be let
back in;
it's warm as they work
and they sweat a
bit,
but they work hard and
well, they work so hard
the nerves revolt
and cause trembling,
but often they are
praised by those
who have risen up
out of them
like stars,
and now the stars
watch
watch too
for those few
who might attempt a
slower pace or
show disinterest
or falsify an
illness
in order to gain
rest (rest must be
earned to gain strength
for a more perfect
job).

sometimes one dies
or goes mad
and then from Outside
a new one enters
and is given
opportunity.

I have been there
many years;
at first I believed the work
monotonous, even
silly
but now I see
it all has meaning,
and the workers
without faces
I can see are not really
ugly, and that
the heads without eyes---
I know now that those eyes
can see
and are able to
do the work.
the women workers
are often the best,
adapting naturally,
and some of these I
made love to in our
resting hours; at first
they appeared to be
like female apes
but later
with insight
I realized
that they were things
as real and alive as
myself.

the other night
an old worker
grey and blind
no longer useful
was retired
to the Outside.

speech! speech!
we demanded.

it was
hell, he said.

we laughed
all 4000 of us:
he had kept his
humor
to the
end.

~Charles Bukowski

Cops and Rats

Ever since I bought my car (two years ago), I've been afraid that it's either going to be stolen or it's going to be broken into.

And sure enough finally today the latter happened.

I came to Goregaon last evening to give my car to my garage (Avinash Auto) but Avinash wasn't there. So we (V and I) decided to go back in the morning. I parked my car outside V's gate and got a good night's sleep.

We headed out in the morning (at around 10:30 AM) to see the passenger window smashed, and the deck panel hanging out of the dashboard. Like so:

Eeeeeks right!

So then we headed straight to the police station (which was in Malad) through narrow narrow lanes. Me fuming. V throwing water on my fumings.

We sat at the police station for almost two hours, "discussing" with the cop whether or not he should include the "stolen" deck in the FIR.

The senior inspector at the station insisted that we only lodge a complaint for the broken window and damaged dashboard because only that is covered by insurance. "Anyway you are not going to get any money for the deck." He was hell bent on saving his "investigation time." Instead he wrote about the stolen deck in a separate register. Though we don't really know the purpose of that register. When we did suggest (at least 5 times) that we don't mind a longer procedure, but we'd like the deck reported, he got really really belligerent. At some point, I called my cousin to ask him what to do. And he said, write everything right? Then the inspector asked me what my "dad" said (he thought I was talking to my dad), I said he said "write  everything" -- so the cop said -- "and he's what a police officer" -- oooh scary.

Either way, it was 2 now and I was hungry and wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. So we filed two reports. One for the insurance, and one for the stolen deck. 

Now for the most FREAKY part of the story. When investigating the car with the officer, V noticed a black object on the dashboard. And it was a black plastic cover with a SKULL face (danger skull face) on it! The mark of the robber. Oooooooooh - the plot thickens.

The robber was also a very neat robber. There was no damage to the rest of the car. My pretty blue stole was still in the car along with my headphones and my aux cable. But he did take my hamburger CD case (which Masato, my Japanese friend, gave me :()

So then V and I wondered why the autocop didn't go off.

But three days ago, my wipers stopped working (which is why I was coming to the garage in the first place) and so did the noise of the autocop. Did the thief-er know that?

So then we went to the Spark service centre to get the window replaced. But they didn't have any spare windows. We also reported the non-working autocop. On examining that, the guy said, the wire has been cut. So we thought the robbers must've done that as a preventive measure.

But then, some guy came to check the wipers, and he said those wires have also been cut -- but he thinks by rats! So that would explain the rats eating the autocop wire as well!

Rats? Really? This whole thing happened because some rats ate my autocop wires and wiper wires. Really!

Grrrrrrr.

Moral of the story:
1. Don't make fun of your autocop noise and don't wish that it would stop
2. Don't diss the rats

"the rainmaker"

it rained continuously for six days
as if the six days were trying to
wash away our six years of love

year 1, the storm
the year of whirlwind love
of uncertainty and not knowing
of mustard skies
the year that made everything bloom

year 2, beach rain
'twas twice that year
we beached in the rain
soaking our feet into the rainsand
with four droplets on your face and
and three in my hand

year 3, the drizzle
it was the year where everything was moist
(wink)

year 4, hail mary
then love started to hurt
stripping us of all things happy
despairingly

year 5, overcast
overcast skies gave way to
unstoppable fires
no rain
the year of waiting for something
to happen
end or begin

year 6, the downpour
and this is the year of the downpour
the year i'll drown
in thoughts of you
as the sea tears us apart

chor bazaar

the doors and windows of chelekara

the doors of chelekara (thrissur, kerala) were something quite special. each door was different. and each told a different story.

"The History Teacher"

Trying to protect his students' innocence
he told them the Ice Age was really just
the Chilly Age, a period of a million years
when everyone had to wear sweaters.

And the Stone Age became the Gravel Age,
named after the long driveways of the time.

The Spanish Inquisition was nothing more
than an outbreak of questions such as
"How far is it from here to Madrid?"
"What do you call the matador's hat?"

The War of the Roses took place in a garden,
and the Enola Gay dropped one tiny atom on Japan.

The children would leave his classroom
for the playground to torment the weak
and the smart,
mussing up their hair and breaking their glasses,

while he gathered up his notes and walked home
past flower beds and white picket fences,
wondering if they would believe that soldiers
in the Boer War told long, rambling stories
designed to make the enemy nod off.

~Billy Collins

tree-love

i want to love you like the trees love each other in kerela

with their roots all tangled up into their shoots

Kerala!

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Day 1: Ernakulum-Fort Cochi



Day 2: Kumarokom



Day 3: Kumarokom-Thekkady



Day 4: Thekkady-Munnar



Day 5: Munnar-Nedumbassery (Airport)



Day 6: Nedumbassery-Chelakara



Day 7: Chelakara



Day 8: Malampuzha Dam-Alatur-Nurani



Day 9: Gurvayur-Chelakara



Day 10: Chelakara



Day 11 Chelakara-Athirapally-Nedumbassery

Post It #33

Strawberry Soda

My lovely evening started with raspberry soda at Sassanian, Marine Lines.

I then bought three shuttle cocks at Mumbai's oldest sports shop -- Walden.


Then 1 mango juice, 1 mango milkshake, and 2 watermelon juices at Badshah's -- my dad's favorite place to cool off.