Goodbye My Little Girl

[ inspired by a youtube video that I had watched several years back || written on the occasion of the first million dollar smart home that I had been handling, being handed over to the owners || today I felt like a 50 year old man, marrying off his young, beautiful daughter to a new family ]

So here goes..

Parting tears brimmed in her sparkling eyes, as the party train stole her, from my trembling arms.

At once a cold breeze drifted down from the tall branches of the eucalyptus trees, smearing the scent everywhere. It ruffled up my hair as if on purpose and ran through the rusty street rustling the leaves.

I stood there for a while, freezing in the light of the cold night, nothing but the silence and an empty alley behind me. Shaking, moved and completely unsettled, I walked back three steps into the numbness that is, this evening has become, for me.

I felt the soft air as I walked into the dark, leaving a faint humming in my ears and spinning out little vortices as I move by.

The silence being torn by the soft wind - in itself is quite something - one may let the mind wander to ease off for a little while - after all its been a tough day. How complicated can the contraption be for the subtle movements of a butterfly wing to spin out into a venomous whirlwind..

In fact, I am standing in the eye of a hurricane.

The painfully vivid picture, of her sparkling eyes came into my mind again.

How did I let her go! My mind filled up with a million memories- my little girl, my princess!! Her first cry - in that adorable little baby voice of hers, how she used to call me dada, her first baby steps and the shy little smile that followed, the time we took her to the park where she had her first ice-cream, when she licked that pink strawberry scoop and it slipped off the cone into the grass and she cried, showing all the baby tooth and rubbing those chubby little arms against her little eyes..

My vision blurred. I felt weightless for a while. Cold breeze spreading the numbness around me, I turned back for one last glimpse- and across all the miles and the music that fills the separation, I saw her; and she saw me- and I heard her heart speak to mine, in a voice more damp than the ocean in her eyes,

"I'll be ok now, daddy, you can let go..."

Flowers and tears

So many words left unspoken, die . . .
As the grief sets in late, after the bye;
Need a shoulder, just to bend over and cry.


Sincere tears withheld in pain-
Masked in happiness, doped in smiles.
Search the faces, look for the eyes-
So much for cliched  perfunctory slys!


Sinful creations, with glorious glitch,
We are no more than the textures we stitch.
Lie to your self, put up a brave face,
Withhold  the subtext with blabber and slays!


Its only just a matter of time
Before you break, at the last words you hear.
The mysterious, chained self, new to himself,
Seeps out for once, beyond the weak knobs,
For a second or two- no more can afford,
So he's played along and dramatized for the fun.
A treacherous plot, a well entertained suicide . . .


After the bye, it sets in late
Look for a shoulder, yourself u hate.

Frictionless

                    "Whenever you feel like the crackly white walls and the crazy weird trees by the side of the road have gained a feasible personage and that they are prying at you with their cranky wonky eyes, that is the time you should realize that your life, for long, was a mere hallucination - where the plot had lost its priority, to a surreal hope of an alien presence, and now that it is gone, you are back in the real world where loss is the truth and gain is a myth."

                She was unassailable to local lovers. He was no local lover, not even a lover for that matter. A loser may be- nothing lost and nothing to be lost. Ha! That might be an understatement- a misleading understatement- one that might sound convincing enough, for you to stack your cards against the loser. As an act of mercy or say, common courtesy, let’s call it ‘him’. He welcomes us to a world of lost love.

                The two of them were friends. If two people talk to each other, they are by default and by general definition, friends. The two friends talked about the leaves and the twigs, the fresh sprouts, yellow flowers and the fruits, and at times about the wind. The dew, the sky and the crimson sunshine was left untouched to everyone’s surprise. Time was poignant, swift and slow. Lusty seasons blew past them once each time, poking the cobweb of informal dormancy with splendid sparks at times...

                Moths and beetles grew old and died but hopes will live forever. With smiley faces and profound tweets, it’s time to say goodbye. The wind blew at once, for one last time, this time hard, with all its might. Fellow wing-mates took off to be back, to buy some time from timeless stands. It’s true in fact that excess is bad- it masks the self with a condensed self. The breeze set in, disguised as hale, hysteric leaves shivered and swayed, rusty foliage rose with dust and clogged the silence with obscure frost. But once again they talked of nothing but the leaves and sprouts and fruits.

                With pain in the heart and smile in the eyes, they parted in snow, in style. With pointy beak, streamline and wings, she blew beyond his influence lines. Unspoken words waited to die, and so they did in recent past. But hopes, my friends, are made forever, and forever they last regardless of whatever. Favourites of dusk are spoilers of night; think for instance a cloud at night. Pearl and jade priced at par, shines and glows in respective clans. Keep them close and view from far- the white queen stands as the merchant’s pride!!

TRUE STORY

300 metres of road extending in front of you.
frilled by trees golden and brown..
textured asphalt marking its presence from beneath the rusty foliage
its been a while since black rubber last kissed his feet
not even the commonest barking animal is seen around anywhere

you, are standing there, pointlessly gazing at the whole beauty that nature has painted over there, on that dirty piece of canvas, over all that had once existed there, including the textured artificiality. you are not a poet, just a typical human, lets say man, marking his presence through his physical existance at present, for ur thoughts have let left you times ago, in the meadows unseen and pleasures forbidden.

the point is, somehow, man has lost one of his intrinsic properties. explore the wilds and u will find it, the thing tht was irradicated from human civilisation, in its deadliest best, in the animal kingdom - the ultimate factor that decides the leader or the head of the clan- its nothing but Individuality.

the present situation is that man owes his existance to friend circle and groupism. his world is surrounded by friends who guage him by the gang he belongs to. and he himself marks his presence as the representative of a group of men, to whom he owes years of branded slavery, and to whom he lost his brain, thought and nature permanently in the bargain he fought for - the mazy bargain where they throw you with Golden Peanuts on your eye, each time you care to get a better view.

by the way, mutation is real, moreover, its been claimed as one of the laws of nature. there's no reason to disbelieve it. or if u do, I invite you for a face off with me. back to the 300 m road- considering my natural instincts, i would have walked alone right through the middle of it, observing each and every single detail of it- through all the intricarte microfibrils of tenderness within which beauty found for herself a place to condense into a honeydew sleep; and would preserve them in memory with the same care and tenderness with which they were created.

trust me, loneliness is bliss- you just dont know it, or you dont care to.
but did u notice what the man did? his real self centrifuged out of him and started floating.

even while being in the midst of what could be possibly the star-studded centrestage of the paradise conferred to loneliness-personified, by mother nature herself, he is craving for a companion, a friend or his love. and that exactly is what I would define as insecurity. loneliness is a conservative girl, so reserved in her feelings that you just can't know her unless you deleberately want her.

involuntarily, the man desires a feel of having somebody with him anytime -even for an act of joy or smile, he needs company. I would like to ask the man one question- how much can he imbibe into him from the impressively infinite world around him, when he is so absorbed into the bubble which he is in, never out of and never been out of before, in his lifetime??

man was pre-assumed as a social being, and soon later, misinterpreted as the one who he lives in a cloud- a cloud that he carries with him, a cloud that houses several other components of a complete man- a cloud of mass action or literally, an assembly; which unfortunately volatilizes his individuality part by part by channelising himself into a form that is generally accepted. more wield is the part where the third person from the society actually accepts him, whereas stamps the mark of a rebel or a lone-wolf on an independent man. they just dont know the difference. they dont care to.

mutation has lead man to the brink of an optical illusion of stairs leading into nowhere.the man will still continue to laugh and make merry as he has always done, because he doesn't see the outsides, he just sees the insides of the bubble that he is in. and he thinks thats what the world means.

man by definition has become so shallow and subtle. isn't he!

Fairy’s fiction

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Fairy’s fiction:

       Every man is a human and so is every barbarian. What distinguishes these two, is the way they react to things and the things they react to. One such factor to discriminate them is help. A barbarian will not help you if he feels that you would grow taller than him with that help and if it happens so, he'll just ruin you...

(read b/w the lines and analyze)

Friends, comrades, and all those with spears,

Hear me for once, with sharpest ears.

From whence hath principal time began,

I come, the naked horse!

Unknown to world, and unknown of it,

He lived a lonely life.

He raced the wilds, unshackled and strong

No flags, no laurels, no frown.

Exposed he was, as defined he is,

Anodized by circumstances;

Till once he met with, one day at rocks,

A charming diabolic fox!

Nothing so luring has he seen

Than those jaded eyes!

The foxy fox inched in close

To the perplexed naked horse and said:

“Friends we are and friends we’ll live

In this ‘friendly’ world of mine”

With words of enigma, the dude of charisma

Got him christened ‘Black Beauty’

Hemlocked he was, strengthened he felt

He smelt the taste of life.

It so happened, that later in time,

Habitually he met with him.

And then the speeds increased like hell-

Worthless oceans foamed and swelled

Conscience was lost, compassion lost,

But lots and lots and lots were won!
Full fledged he grew in space and time

All he saw were checkered flags

Perfected he was, perceived for it,

For longer days and nights…

But nobody saw the schemer’s hands,

Nobody cried: “Behold, behold”

And nobody knew, the foxy fox

Had foxiest goals in the foxed up world.

The next sun rose with a different smile

All horses ready, all jockeys ready,

And also ready is the gentle fox-

Perfidious within, but still merry merry!

Storms triggered the torrential rains,

Blinding blitz showed up in skies

And thunders wrecked the country side,

To mark the race of nation’s pride!

A gunshot was heard, a rumble heard,

But all we saw was a cloud of dust-

And then we saw a streak of glow

Out came blazing ‘Black beauty’.

For once it seemed none else had a chance

But not so far was oblivion…

He crashed on, into the magical wall

Never seen of before, or after anymore.

The Mercurial Horse was smashed and bent

And curled up into and invertebrate.

So there he falls, the horse naked

Defined as exposed, anodized of purities.

All his titles and all his charm

Sublimes beyond all reclaimations.

All he heard was galloping from far-

All his opponents, grey, white and black

Churning the pre-churned clays on the way,

To touch the un-churned with an un-classy sway.

An undeserved forfeit, a death for the valiant!

The sobbing martyr, groaning in pain-

Victorious losers dragged him through streets

In the midst of the town they gathered round

Turmoil crowned and crowd profound

The foxiest fox now swirls his wand

Before the eyes of the swooning knight

Emerged lions with eternal might

From each of seven opponents bright

Surrounds the tethered goat to fight

“Behold what a pretty sight!”

Hectored and tortured, heckled along,

The martyr dies a second death!

Sleep deprived, self pitied,

Isolated from social eyes,

Leading a loony disharmonious life

Lives the horse, in shadows of night.

What goals he had, what dreams were seen!

He barely stands, no might within

A long faced ass in silent tears

No trophies of pride, no loud cheers…

And there they coalesce, the ‘he’ and the ‘I’

As defined before, in everyone’s eyes.

“I never did this for fame or attention,

All I did was to chase my passion-

I hate basking in the glory of gone years

So friends, comrades, and all those with spears,

Fire me as an offender

Mark me as an outsider

And hang me as a dictator,

For I am, I was, what you thought I was.”

-Vivek S V

Ragam spl. Disaster, free for hostelites...(Bring ur id cards)

The all hyped and arguably the biggest cultural fest in Kerala, turned out to be a slaughter-house, unexpectedly tonight. You won't believe it, but painfully yes, my dear friends, I am talking of Ragam 10! Even as I sit here and type, I can hear those atrocious booms and bangs, rite now. . .

In my view, dance is an art, and art is human; which means, art was kidnapped, and murdered openly, at the Open Air Theater. I'm glad it didn't happen elsewhere, in some congested stage, at least art could have had some final air before it died . . . I was there with a freaking 5-mega pix camera, supposed to take night photographs of a freaking Naresh Iyer show, for the media committee. Me being a person who habitually take risks, borrowed the camera from Sunith, and went on with it. Into the O.A.T, somehow managed a 9 sq inch space to stand, that too pretty close to the stage, like some 3 foot away from the ramp (didn't know the power of the media badge till then!), and I even got a hand-rest to take shake free photos( which is nothing other than a foot-support of an inverted table) . There I stood, with some 3-4 drunk men right behind me, to copy-paste some moments of the show, into a camera which has got some serious night-blindness and has no image stabilizer.

Three shots and I'm into the game. Wow man, its such a pleasurable experience to stand in a crowd and take photos, where u have to hold the camera still, and keep on changing the zoom as the guy on stage moves around, and click at the right moments of his expressions, and all this u have to do with those drunkards hanging over ur shoulders. I was getting nauseated by the ambiance! Even the camera seems to be dancing at each click- so much of blur despite being rested upon the above mentioned ARM rest. After some 10 snaps, I noticed that all those were perfectly stereotypic. Tell me, if the guy doesn't show anything new on stage, how the hell would anyone take a different photo after all? He bored the crowd lyk anything, even he looked so bored, and he says we were such a wonderful crowd, and one of the best he ever had. I was lyk Oh my God, so THAT is his caliber. . .

Being a person who respects art, I quit the O.A.T before the audience would probably hurl stones and nilkamal chairs at him. I was thinking, that I would take a break, and return an hour later, for the Choreo nite. So I did. And who knew, that disaster was awaiting?

This time again, testing the crowd patience to the extreme, it started, and me at a better position to take photos, and damn.. "CHANGE THE BATTERY PACK" - says the clicking machine. Had Suman, my co-media mate, given me his cyber-shot as was understood earlier. . . Phone calls, no response, then someone lifted it, can't hear, finally audible, fake +ve response, and then I thought, "ente talelkudi enda wandi odunno?" I chose to sit and watch (yes,I got to sit there, thanks to Media badge again). And there comes the NIT team on stage, with some kind of an assembly line formation, with one guy in white, leading, and the rest all girls in black, but wait, even in the zero light condition b4 the start, I found some familiarity . Yes, its a UV dance show. Memories from LOYOLA, my Alma mater. . .

After a few cat calls, and the lead guy shouting to switch off the lights, the show started. The whole stuff works out under two UV tubelights, and any trace of visible light would expose the non florescent material, like the ppl in black, and there actions, which would otherwise be not seen in UV. It was simply "mindBLASTING", as Russel Peters said once. Splendid effects, excellently worked out, commendable coordination- a beautiful manipulation of the art form. Two minutes into it, and the lights began to flash. I don't know how it happened, but the show was spoiled, as the lights continued their sinful indulgence . Couldn't just bear it. I thought it was a mistake, a misunderstanding  b/w the lights man and the dance crew. So I stood there, bearing the pain, till it finishes. Once the torture was over, I rushed to the water melon counter and had 2 full cups. Then we had the new team on stage. Again a UV show... The beginning was perfectly identical, like any two versions of a Kreyzig text book. Still manageable, after all uv is still uv na... But then the disaster struck again, the same disaster. The whole episode was then re-telecast: uv tubes set in front of the stage, dancers coming, the same formations, then the bloody lights start to glow, and the show ruined...

                       I couldn't bear the torture for more than 4 cycles, so I quit the show. And can you believe it, the biggest show in Kerala, and 4 dance shows ruined by a stupid lights guy?? Adding on to the list, we had NIT team finishing 3rd (out of 4 teams) in the fashion show, that too with Colleges as local as Feroqe college coming first. I dont feel like typing anymore. 

                        It was all puffed up, then punctured, such a disgrace!!!

A begginer's request

       I've heard a lot abt dis blogging and all.

       Many of my friends are already "renowned and established bloggers". I think its already high time that I started one...

        But can anybody tell me how to start off??