Saturday, October 26, 2013

Who am I?

Delicate in, tough out,
 Easily ruffled,

Mostly in single colour,
 In shades of black and silver grey,

Obsolete, irrelevant
 After a short prime,

Laden with a drive,
 That drives nothing now.

Who am I?

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I am the a: drive!




Saturday, October 19, 2013

Sachins and non-Sachins

A Sachin has to leave the field
For others,
After two-hundred test centuries.

Sachins are role-models,
Ultra successful,
Front-pagers,
Gods.

Millions of non-Sachins,
Must quit on a muted pitch,
Having lived by singles
And ducks
And hopes and despairs in between,
But no sixes.

I feel like embracing each of them -
The non-Sachins,
Who has played a fair game
Without longing for a century,
And celebrate a failure
In his moment of quitting.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

My dad


We two in the room -
Me and my dad;
I, playing with toys,
He, with nothing.

I look at the balloons

Left hanging high from my first b’day.
Longing for them,
I call out dad.
He looks at me, at balloons,
Unconcerned.

I climb the chair, the table,

Hold wall, reach a balloon,
Which slips away from my finger.
I look below to be sure
That my toys are safe.
Dad, I find, as cruel as ever,
unconcerned!

Determined to pluck one,

I climb the pile of books on table.
A book slides, my feet spin.
Hands leave the wall, legs shiver.
I shriek at balloons
Frolicking at my helplessness,
Until it’s all dark and quiet.

It is bright again.

Don’t know how,
I am in dad’s lap
With all balloons tied to my wrists.
Dad is smiling!

Rough translation of 'Mere Bappu'