Monday, June 25, 2012

Words - III

I write in the night. The words often come in disjointed drizzles and solemn little rivulets streaking across the surfaces of images and thoughts like shimmering patterns of raindrops on windows. Some nights, though, they come in waves; the mind struggling against their torrents like a face upturned to the winds of a sea-storm with little deposits of salt: tantalizingly pungent, mothers of thirst, the seeds of feeling.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Along these many paths

Hold my hand, won't you?
And sift through these memories:
Of iced raspberry dollies on a fiery summer's day.
Glide through them, like the little paper boats we set free on rivulets of rain
Making their lonely sojourns to shores and climes distant and unknown.
Rummage in backpacks brimming with
Peacocks, cards on rainy days, greeting cards, last bench delights and
Glasses misted by steaming mugs of coffee.


Gaze with me at the sea, now -
Rivulets replaced by the gentle murmur of the waves
Sharing their timeless secret with the whispering wind.
From our vantage across the lonely street
Under watchful light of the yellow cross-road lamp
Or up on the windy rooftops of old dormitories
Stuffed with broken drawing boards and stubbed pencils,
Salt and rain mingle in the air with stale cigarette smoke.


Or tread softly through narrow eucalyptus-lined paths
Snaking through brush, ant-hills and whispering teaks in darkness and silence.
Walk through the night until tomorrow we return
To a world of cramped arcades, rushed hours and ironed shirts
Where paper boats and windy rooftops seem strangely incongruous.
Relive the magic of those nights of improbable hopes
Where the wildest promises sometimes came true,
If only for a while.

But only till we woke up to watch as they slipped away,
Wisps of dreams glowing briefly before fading
Like the last surge of the flame
Before the inevitability of the extinguishing breath.
Where do they go?
Beyond the impenetrable gates of reality
In all their forbidding splendor -
The dark color of a neem tree after the rain.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Late night work Haikus

I.

Festival of colours
Begins in black, blue and red
Font size fourteen

II.

Festival of colours
Ends in black, blue and red
Font size fourteen

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Recruitment Haiku - I

Hot air in the hall
Young men in dark suits and ties
Speak of unemployment

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Excel man

Its nine o clock on a Friday,
The regular crowd shuffles out.
There's a CTL sitting next to me
I'm not sure what he's talking about.

He says, boy, can you make me an excel sheet?
I'm not really sure how it goes...
But it's cross-linked and its neat, and I knew it complete
When I last wore an AC's clothes.

La la la, de de da
La la, de de da... da da

Chorus:
Make me a model, you're the Excel man
Make me a model tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for an SCM
So you've got to stay here all night...

Now GB in the bay is a friend of mine,
He shows me formulas for free...
And he's quick with a pivot or even a Vlookup,
But home is where he'd rather be.
He says, Hil, I believe this is killing me.
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place.

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Now Tandon is a true-blue masochist,
Who never had time for a life.
And he's talkin' with KC who's still an AC
And probably will have to be for life.

And the pantry-boys are practising foosball
As the ACs in the background groaned.
Yes, they're sharing a cold dinner from Below 8
But its better than eating alone.

Chorus:
Make me a model, you're the Excel man
Make me a model tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for an SCM
So you've got to stay here all night...

Its getting really late for a Friday
So the CTL gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me that he's going to have to see,
To get the precious Excel file.
And the foosball, it sounds like a carnival
And God, I feel like a beer!
The last guys are done, they're off for some fun,
And laugh at my still being here.

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

There and back again

So it's official. It's been over six months since anything of note appeared here. Between you and me, writing's like the economy. Cycles of words - a year, maybe more, of industrious writing - Alles ist gut. Out of nowhere, when you least expect it, though, six sudden months of cooling off. And then the words come back. Slowly to begin with and then in gushing rapids of ideas bursting through the dams of silence.

There and back again.

...But things will never be the same again, will they? Much has come and gone in those six months - a friendship, a job, some weight, a few strands of white hair, well-meant resolutions.. a life - calm on the surface at least, turns upside down in six months. A public blog goes private, and then goes public again. Maybe I should call this the Private Equity blog. Never mind - poor joke.

Move on.

Welcome back.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Said the wise man to me..

"Happiness, boy, is where you find it."