Friday, December 20, 2013

An Orange Time

I want to make it beautiful
As an emerging time that still hung over you.

- Neha

Beauty & Utility

Like a beautiful window seat in the airport business lounge
You are stunning
But you have no charging port - what should I do with your beauty?
He said, "If there be only one ism in the world, make it utilitarian"

A travel memo was sent: Give me beauty with electricity! 

- Neha

Like a stained glass

She 1 always wore black
As if in mourning forever (for every moment a moment dies)
She 2 always wore colors
Bright, boisterous, playful colors
Colors saying that despite the darkness,
darkness will not touch her.

- Neha

Tuesday, December 17, 2013


Oldest is a limit to your discovery,
For there is a beginning of time,
which is always receding away
Like people in the back mirror.

A travel memo was sent: Time is backless 

- Neha


I am not scared of your gods.
It's your humans that make my soul clench time to time

- Neha

Draupadi, not Sita

I am no Sita
I am no mata, no maiya 
If anything, maybe Draupadi
But you don't name your daughters Draupadi, do you? She is too haughty isn't she?
She speaks up - how disrespectful!
She opens her hair and vows to not tie them till her honor is avenged
( which is really your dishonor since you all just sat and watched)
She asked, "who did you lose first, yourself or me"
You don't have an answer
And she is not a good woman to ask such questions unabashedly
You name your daughters Sita.
Sita walked on fire to prove her purity, no questions asked for a long long time ( as if you can know pure from unpure with the narrow lanes of your tiny minds)
Yes, Sita walked on fire to prove her purity
Yes, a good woman
A good woman till one day she asked her mother Earth to swallow her for she could take it no more
A good woman still for she didn't instigate a war for her honor
Draupadi asked difficult questions and opened her long hair and swayed her hips.
She laughed too much ( she must not have learnt how to talk softly, slowly, best to be unheard, with her eyes down counting fingers on her feet hundred times over; I imagine she whistled beautifully too, and jumped and danced and clapped and dreamt secret dreams I wouldn't dare to speak of)
This dark draupadi
Born of fire. She kept burning like a flame whole of her life
You had patience Sita
and I'm sure I have lessons to learn from your fortitude
But forgive me, for like our mothers, I am no Sita
If anything, I may be the daughter of fire
For like her, I too keep on burning

- Neha

Mystical Prayer

I met a lake.
She said she wanted
to become mist
And disappear

- Neha

Road to liberation

Tragedy became defiance,
Defiance became self affirmation,
Self affirmation became liberation.

It was concluded, with brackets- (In the mystical scheme of things) :: Tragedy became liberation

- Neha

Tao of Baking

Two half baked eggs
don't make a full cake,
They make two parts halfness
Which is greater than one half part full
or full part one half.

- Neha

Beautiful Muddle

We start with beauty,
We end in beauty
Its the muddle that gets us

- Neha

General Day of Melancholy

For you, that is
For you, that is not

A travel memo was sent: Today is a general day for melancholy. Brood to your heart's discontent 

- Neha

Monday, December 16, 2013

Porcupine dream

Description: A porcupine is a small, slow animal with an impressive aggregation of stings reinforced.

Should I take you as a warning for your stings
Or as a reminder of the softness of your belly, despite the stings?
(Although porcupines carry more than 30,000 stings on the back and in the flanks, her belly is soft and unprotected. )

- Neha

When the sun was falling

Where were you when the sun was falling
and I was questioning this stubborn hope?

Were you looking at a falling star
and thinking of this stubbornness too?

- Neha


I like how when you meet a person, they can be anything and anybody
Like this boy in the book: I thought he's writing the book as a professor
Because he could have written his life's story in flashback one day.

But he didn't. he remained a memory of someone she knew
( or maybe just her imagination)  
But he could have been the one writing,
But then that would have been another story.

We could have been any story on this great canvas
Sometimes we make a story, sometimes life makes us a story

( A travel memo was sent - there are too many buts in this story)

- Neha


We ended, without ending
So you remained, having left unsaid.

- Neha


You, a bird, who loves to swim
I, a fish, who loves to fly
These depths
These heights
We are in some deep waters
and gasping for air

- Neha