Letting Go

Take solace in the winter trees

that grieve not for the loss of leaves,

standing firm and tall

in the absolute

wisdom of spring and the birds that sing,

in the certainty

of summer haze and rippling shades

in the unforgiving

autumn winds and the loss they bring

never holding on

in the absolute wisdom.

Play On.

Old tunes work like magic,
mining old, gold memories
from the depths of time.
Clear and uncut,
and still playing,
in another universe.

The Board Game of Life

‘The ladders they are plenty’ said the crooked man,
‘Climb high now and go where you want’
As I picked up the dice, he said
he said, ‘write your story now, love,
but be wary of those fangs.
All it takes is a hiss and a bite
to slither
slither down the snake
in the board game of life’

So i rolled the dice of my fate over,
over and over many times.
In the board game of my life,
the ladders were mine to climb.
The first ladder was easy,
easy to scale.
A roll here and a climb there,
everything I wanted was just another ladder away

Then came the ladder of love,
(Oh how I had longed for this)
enticing me with the heights it could reach.
Absolute, perfect dreams, as I climbed.
Delusions, I told myself later.
But it’s always a little
a little too late.
As I opened my eyes, I was slithering
slithering down the snake
in the board game of life.

The ladder of hope though small
pulled me up again.
I climbed and climbed
on the steps of success, glory and fame.
But the white, red and green fangs
found me again
found me again slithering
slithering down the snake
In the board game of life.

The ladder of hope
seemed suddenly far away.
If I could just reach the ladder of faith
in time.
In time all would be ok.
But the dice were gone and the ladders
the ladders began falling.
I looked at the crooked man, but he just said,
‘if you cant see them, love,
you cant climb them.
All it took was a hiss and a bite,
and you slithered
slithered down the snake
in the board game of life.’

Homing Pigeons vs. Wandering Gypsies

There is something about train stations that gives me a tremendous feeling of hope mingled with a crazy desire to run away somewhere, anywhere other than where I am. It has to do with the musty smell of the platforms, the sound of an arriving train (always some arriving train) , the fact that stations never sleep, the idea of always being on the go, that wondrous knowing feeling that stations have, having witnessed all the emotions that we know, sometimes even at the same time.

Somewhere, on platform number 3, a dad is worried that his daughter is traveling all alone – he is probably fighting to let go…fighting to hold on. Then there is the quintessential couple, holding hands, whispering things in a language which only they understand – the classic goodbye routine, promising to love and miss each other. The belief that this universe has come together just to unite them and that they will always stay together. Well, at least till the big-bang gone wrong happens!

Next to their coach is another traveler, an old lady, all by herself, looking for someone – maybe her son or her daughter or probably just a friendly smile. She holds on to her bag as if its her life – maybe it is. That’s the thing about old people traveling alone. It always breaks my heart. It also makes me ask myself the age-old question of old-age. What if, for some goddamn reason I am still alive at 65 and alone? Would I hold on desperately to my past or would I be content of having lived a life which has helped me evolve to be who I am? As I am thinking of how my life would turn out, I see a group of middle aged women laughing. Something about their laughter makes me smile. I smile at the comfort these women share, maybe built over years of simply being there for each other. And, I think of my friends and how lucky I am to have them. They may not be many in number, they may not even be in the same city or country – but I know when I need someone, they will always be just a plane ride away (!!!). And, again, this makes me wonder...

Does it make sense to leave everything that matters and start over..again and again? Or is it that home truly is where the heart is? How does one know? Wise (read smartass!) people at this point would interject and say...'you just know!' But what if you don't know? What if your heart is missing in action or has no clue where to be? Is home then nowhere and everywhere?

A homing pigeon - always knowing where home is, or the wonderful wanderlust of the gypsy? Does it really matter? In the end, the very end, aren't we all queuing up for a ride on the same train?

Miraculous Beginnings/ Wishful
Endings

Maybe I will see you
again someday.
In a different place, a different time.
Maybe I will hold you
again for just one moment

Or maybe, if I am really lucky
a lifetime.
If miracles do happen
in modern times,
Time will bring us together
even if just to show that
that time was always on our side.

Adventures of Alice & The Cat with Nine Lives

Chapter I: Passing gas can be painful!

So it all started
when Alice's cat farted
that smells nasty!, said Alice out aloud
but the cat simply licked her paws and was proud
ahhhh, thought the cat, there aint no bigger pleasure than mice!
But Alice, being Alice, wanted the cat to pay the price

So she jumped down the rabbit hole along with the cat
but hurt herself pretty bad as the landing was w/o a mat
the cat survived & also managed to avoid the beehives
coz we all know any cat has nine lives

the cat was counting 2 lives down 7 to go
Alice was learning, you reap as you sow
But knowing Alice, as we all do really well
she couldnt stop herself from catting the bell

Hell!, thought Alice, i think its belling the cat!
I must be going crazy just like a rat!
or is it a bat?
confused, she held her head and sat

Chapter II: "Are you kidding me!!"

to be continued...

Reality Check: STOP PAYMENT

What is it that keeps reality from eluding, especially when you need it the most? Is it that we don’t want to take stock anymore? Particularly when taking stock translates to losing that certain something which we think is something special? Or is it that someone has just stopped payments on our reality checks?

If i were to take stock of my thoughts vs. “reality”, I would say (rather astutely) “Thoughts, even if not requited, are harmless if they give you pleasure for a little while”. But, when thoughts do begin to matter, unrequited suddenly turns into an obsession. And, reality becomes a toothache – constantly reminding you of the drilling pain to come if not dealt with head-on.

The Beginning

Someone once told me: Every new year's eve you shed your old skin and don a new one.

And, this is what i am going for this year. A new skin. This year I've decided to have a skin that speaks.

The story, if you will, goes that after years of trying to write, searching for perfect words wrapped around perfect stories and having got no "perfect" listeners, i had a moment of epiphany. The moment, which i shall call a little voice in my head, pretty much asked me get off my lazy ass and start blogging. OK, so it actually didn't ask me to start blogging, but it did say that 'if you really wanna say something, you'll always find listeners'.

Enter 2007, and here i am, new skin and all, poised to...well, blog!