i am i

I am the chalk
In the hot chocolate

The day isn't over
But i am wasted

The wind ain't cold
You burn forever

Out of bounds
Time's a joke

Freedom the call
By the noose hung

You lie
I am i

You care not know more!

cry

Sax: Do you cry?
Me: Yes I do.

But why?

There are a number of things I miss.

I miss the smell of fresh earth after a brief spell of rain. All I can smell now are the asphalt road, cemented gullies and overflowing drains. And I cry.

I miss the late night coffee mom makes after dinner. Now I drink water – mineralized and chlorinated, I think I hear the walls of my wall erode. And I cry.

I miss the cold wind on my face as I drive through NH17. Here, I move at the speed of snail, unaware of the man pushing men to meet ends needs. And I cry.

I miss the warmth of friends, embracing each emotion as being their own. At present, I wait every night, hoping for a virtual hug over optical cable and satellite signals. Not warm. But someone cares. And I cry.

I miss the solitude of the blue room. I miss the redwood bed. I miss the green gdrej. I miss the antique computer. I miss the world map covered table.
I miss home. I miss love. I cry.

Just My Luck

If I were to see
From land across sea,
A beautiful lass
Would come across me

Jet black hair
Would reach the rear
With a lock
On the bosom dock

Starlit eyes
Shine the night skies
Even doused lights
Wouldn’t lose her bright

The lips spoke
As little talk
An angel’s voice
She shared the poise

Alas it goes
Seen but a pose
My wife awoke
Looking nothing like the rose

Delhi in Dubai is also Dubai in Delhi

A month into this venture of unknown north capital has bought me in touch with a bachelor life that is quite reminiscent of the life of the working labour class in the land of black gold in the gulf. My references to the Middle East coming due to the fact that it has the highest number of Indians working as labourers; and having experienced their lives up, close and personal. I can clearly remember walking into a bachelor’s quarter in Dubai to meet some of my Uncle’s friends as early as 2006. To paint a picture of the life there – six hard working people, living together under one roof, with bunk beds to save space and their own personal space spread over just a few centimetres. It was really a sight worth its weight in pity that I could not keep myself from shedding a tear or two.

Fast forward three years, and here in Delhi I have seen the same thing happening all over again. Just that most of the people who live in such homes are the students doing their higher studies in the umpteen number of colleges and universities present here. It is worth applauding how each day is spent by them out here. I am lucky enough to say that I have lived with them these past two weeks and am looking forward to living with them the coming two more years. We have teachers over here, who go on speaking about as to why we are not able to live up to their expectations and how they too have a life of their own and how they have a family to care about and how they are so hard working. But to tell the truth, they don’t know anything and I can vouch you for that. If they have experienced what troubles the students go through here, then their extended speeches about being on time and adjusting to timings will surely vanish without a trace. I extend my heartiest welcome to any faculty over here, who live a life of normal luxuries to spend just a day with us. I take this platform to shout out that it is quite hard adjusting to life out here and for once someone would take up to understanding the poor students out here and give them the respect that they deserve.


Well I guess I am going over the top, but my message stays vindicated.

A week and not much Dilli dallying.

It’s been exactly a week since I have been to the nation’s capital. There are a lot of things I am missing out here. And at the same time, there are some things that I am getting to know more about right here. For example, the presence of the pitter patter of raindrops is something that I miss very much. But I think it is one of the things that I have to take into being when I decided that I would be coming down to study here. Delhi can be so dry, that it reminds me a lot of my days in Muscat – hot, humid, and dry. But there was some respite yesterday, when there were gentle showers for barely around 15 minutes. But that didn’t do anything to bring the dryness down over here. It merely increased the humidity, and made me more than wanting to head back to the lush green lands of Kerala.
My days so far have been subjected to hours and hours back to back on the TV, flipping through the limited English channels and the occasional regional ones (of which there are only two – you know just to keep in touch with what’s happening back at home). That is incidentally also the time that I heard about the death of one of the most eminent actors of our time – Mr. Murali, who has acted in almost all the available film industries in the south. I take this moment to give my salutations and may his soul rest in peace. He was a brilliant theatre personality, actor, writer and much more, but the most important of all – a wonderful human being.
By the time you must be reading this, I imagine I must have got to some internet connection, but save for the first couple of days, I have been cut off from the world of internet (which is kind of weird for me, considering the fact that I have been addicted to it 24/7 for the past year and a half). I haven’t mentioned as of yet to where I am right?
I am currently at the Delhi cantonment, under the very amicable and warm Colonel Vinod, who happened to be a senior of my uncle during his college days. The life out here pretty much very much simplified. I can get up any time of the day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner will be served at exactly the right times, when it will be bought in perfect tiffins and they will be hot and piping. To beat the heat, I’ve got myself air conditioning. To entertain I’ve got a TV, and basically that is all I’ve been doing all this while – watch TV and some more TV and then some more TV. With internet connection going down the drain, it has become particularly difficult for me to contact with the outside world as well, since my mobile connection is that of Kerala circle, and i am charged for incoming calls at the moment. So I have to see to it that I don’t talk for more than a couple of minutes to anyone who calls (except that there can be quite some exceptions, if you know what I mean). That’s all for my lonely and sad life out here. Wait till next time to hear more.