I have tons of readings to read, I know that's a lot, whole lot, hell lot and it is in such times when you are to concentrate with your mind entirely, the muse awakens. The muse loves musings, it is clever, it knows that when it is not wanted it shall tempt and coax and finally get the fingers to move, smoothly, move them in words, frame sentences and there you go, a para-graph is ready.
It is joyfully clever, even when it has nothing to tell, it will yet not stop speaking, it just continues, murmuring and buzzing, soft sounds and loud noises, whatever it pleases and if you do not obey, then you had it! It will then exclaim and claim your voice and make it sound its own, it will take over, completely and you will have no say, no say at all, it is the muse and the muse loves being mused not abused.
But, but if you love it and if you hearken to it, it is the bestest confidante, choosing your words for you, your voice, your rhythm, rhyming where possible, connecting and dis jointing when not necessary, expressing the feeling, helping you lament and rejoice and giggle and chuckle and talk of love and life and help you get higher up the mind, oh muse, elevate me, levitate me, I await to join your abode in splendor, await to obey you ,my lover, my muse, I await to be told of the world and the worlds that have passed by, I await to listen to your voiceless voice, quiver listening to it, soaking every technique you tell, mopping it to my bank of memory, storing it gently, tucking away the moments spent with you my muse, descend now will you or just take me away, I await to be in your arms, your loving arms.
As you hold me I shall burst into a sensual prosody, uttering my endless songs and hopes and dreams to meet you, oh formless, being- less, benign muse, I put a pen next to me, a white sheet of paper, cross legged, my head looking into the sky, I await for you, come to me......
or did you just leave me?
Here and Now
When my hair blows in the cold wind,
when my lips becomes dry,
I close my eyes to be blind.
When am blind my sight is the strongest,
I see the dungeons of memory,
I see you in every blind blink,
I hear our joyous mugs of beer,
and I swear,
I hear the clink.
I see your face,
this phase is full of your face,
you say live in- here and now,
you are here with me,
you but a voiceless you,
you but a formless you,
you who just smiles at everything and scorns nothing,
you are here with me darling,
I feel your presence.
Leave me never,
love me forever.
when my lips becomes dry,
I close my eyes to be blind.
When am blind my sight is the strongest,
I see the dungeons of memory,
I see you in every blind blink,
I hear our joyous mugs of beer,
and I swear,
I hear the clink.
I see your face,
this phase is full of your face,
you say live in- here and now,
you are here with me,
you but a voiceless you,
you but a formless you,
you who just smiles at everything and scorns nothing,
you are here with me darling,
I feel your presence.
Leave me never,
love me forever.
41st Iffley Road
Stap your seat belts for your safety said the man, no I was not in a plane, I had just gotten out of one, I was in a bus. He further instructed if your want to use the lavoratory, it is to your rear and enjoy your ride. It was past midnight, I was in the bus from Heathrow to Oxford. Before getting into the bus I had just seen England below my feet, lights shimmering on wherever you could set your eyes on the land below, the half moon with a sheepish look, glowing to glory. Picking up my bags I walked to the immigration, and boy there were people, walking smartly, in quiet a hurry, trying to get out of the port and back to their hurried lives, and I seemed to be the only one around with nothing much but a lot of time. So I dragged my bags slowly, gaping at everything that passed my way or whose ways I passed; asking people for the information centre, the calling card shop and the ultimate question, which bus can I take to get to Oxford?
There they were everyone who knew where to go and what to do, and there I was a lost child, enjoying the feeling of not knowing.When I got to the bus stand it said Oxford and I was relieved, I was at the right place, the huge tube pulled up infront and the driver got down to put the baggage in the luggage compartment, sorting them out according to their destination; my turn in the queue and he asked, “where to,” I said “Oxford,” with a puzzled look he said, “ But Oxfords big, where in Oxford,” I managed to remember my college room address and muttered with uncertainty “ 41st Iffley Road,” he shook his head and said that’s a long road, and in my mind I thought, and how was I to know that, it was my first time. The queue behind me was building, so I hurriedly said, drop me off, anywhere close to that, and he said the last stop, and even before he could utter the name, I said “yes yes.” It was one of those embarrassing times where you don’t want yourself to look like a fool and end up saying “ yeah, yeah,” to everything.
So there I was, jet lagged, destination unknown and strapped in a bus! The straps are quite a help really, especially when you are deprived of sleep and want something to hang your head on, what better than a strap to keep you wanted. I slept in bits and pieces, craning my neck to whatever passed on the way, half awake dreaming and then the pilot spoke on his microphone again, a thick British accent,’ we are here, watch out for your stops,’ and this was a dreaded moment. I rubbed my eyes shook myself from the quick slumber, and now time for vigilance, time to look out where to get out, but “where” is a big question?
“Gloucester Green, the last stop,” said the man, so I picked up my bags again and prayed some one should help, like god ( if you exist?), its late at night, how do I know where to go, how? The Bhutanese way, pray, and prayers do get answered; as I was taking out my luggage, an amount too humungous for my size, an English man said, “you wanted to go to Iffley road, and I was glad, there was my angel,” I said yes, he said well you cannot walk till there, you have to take a taxi, come I will show you from where, I followed more than willingly, he pulled my bags for me too, godsend. Taxi and there was I, infront of my house, I had a room in there, but no keys. Second task, to get in you need the key, and to get to the key you need to know where you can get it, but middle of the night colleges are closed, so now what?
Pray, say your prayers, wish. I was already missing the mountains, the food, my room back home but for now all I cared for was a bed, safe one. So I hit the bar below my house, it was a Friday and all bars are packed on Friday, that’s a universal rule. I saw a man with pink hair (coloured) and two ponies serving drinks, and there I go again with my questions, “ would you know anyone who lives upstairs, I rang the bell but no ones answering,” and pink man says “ it’s a Friday, you will not find anyone,” I knew what day it was but I needed better information than that, “ I need my room keys,” I was asking a bartender and he could be god for me at the moment, “try the college lodge, ” “ don’t know where it is and will it not be closed its quite late” said I, “ its open 24 hrs,” said pink man, bingo! and that was what I wanted to hear, 24 hrs. With the help of another landscape gardener who was drinking, I made it to the lodge which was not far away, picked up my keys, flashing my passport everywhere and when I held those in my hand, it was victory, I felt like I had gotten the biggest treasure of my life.
So there I lay, in my bed thinking, what a few days I have had, hopping from the nestled kingdom to this bed. I missed home, quite terribly but I was representing home, the only 'Bhutan' in this hub of nationalities, and that made me feel better, more like that was only way of consoling myself.
There they were everyone who knew where to go and what to do, and there I was a lost child, enjoying the feeling of not knowing.When I got to the bus stand it said Oxford and I was relieved, I was at the right place, the huge tube pulled up infront and the driver got down to put the baggage in the luggage compartment, sorting them out according to their destination; my turn in the queue and he asked, “where to,” I said “Oxford,” with a puzzled look he said, “ But Oxfords big, where in Oxford,” I managed to remember my college room address and muttered with uncertainty “ 41st Iffley Road,” he shook his head and said that’s a long road, and in my mind I thought, and how was I to know that, it was my first time. The queue behind me was building, so I hurriedly said, drop me off, anywhere close to that, and he said the last stop, and even before he could utter the name, I said “yes yes.” It was one of those embarrassing times where you don’t want yourself to look like a fool and end up saying “ yeah, yeah,” to everything.
So there I was, jet lagged, destination unknown and strapped in a bus! The straps are quite a help really, especially when you are deprived of sleep and want something to hang your head on, what better than a strap to keep you wanted. I slept in bits and pieces, craning my neck to whatever passed on the way, half awake dreaming and then the pilot spoke on his microphone again, a thick British accent,’ we are here, watch out for your stops,’ and this was a dreaded moment. I rubbed my eyes shook myself from the quick slumber, and now time for vigilance, time to look out where to get out, but “where” is a big question?
“Gloucester Green, the last stop,” said the man, so I picked up my bags again and prayed some one should help, like god ( if you exist?), its late at night, how do I know where to go, how? The Bhutanese way, pray, and prayers do get answered; as I was taking out my luggage, an amount too humungous for my size, an English man said, “you wanted to go to Iffley road, and I was glad, there was my angel,” I said yes, he said well you cannot walk till there, you have to take a taxi, come I will show you from where, I followed more than willingly, he pulled my bags for me too, godsend. Taxi and there was I, infront of my house, I had a room in there, but no keys. Second task, to get in you need the key, and to get to the key you need to know where you can get it, but middle of the night colleges are closed, so now what?
Pray, say your prayers, wish. I was already missing the mountains, the food, my room back home but for now all I cared for was a bed, safe one. So I hit the bar below my house, it was a Friday and all bars are packed on Friday, that’s a universal rule. I saw a man with pink hair (coloured) and two ponies serving drinks, and there I go again with my questions, “ would you know anyone who lives upstairs, I rang the bell but no ones answering,” and pink man says “ it’s a Friday, you will not find anyone,” I knew what day it was but I needed better information than that, “ I need my room keys,” I was asking a bartender and he could be god for me at the moment, “try the college lodge, ” “ don’t know where it is and will it not be closed its quite late” said I, “ its open 24 hrs,” said pink man, bingo! and that was what I wanted to hear, 24 hrs. With the help of another landscape gardener who was drinking, I made it to the lodge which was not far away, picked up my keys, flashing my passport everywhere and when I held those in my hand, it was victory, I felt like I had gotten the biggest treasure of my life.
So there I lay, in my bed thinking, what a few days I have had, hopping from the nestled kingdom to this bed. I missed home, quite terribly but I was representing home, the only 'Bhutan' in this hub of nationalities, and that made me feel better, more like that was only way of consoling myself.
Mrs moon
Mountains I conjure,
streams I concoct,
fresh air I breathe.
I am the blue sky,
Clouds dance in my shadows,
rainbows play hide and seek,
winter I smell,
smell of winter,
wintery winter.
Snow says it is on the way,
but it's flight is delayed due to climate change,
sun says I have extra work,
global warming makes me shine longer,
Do I not need rest?
Do I?
I am just plasma.
Glaciers are irritated,
"I am no longer solid," it proclaims,
is it just the age?
Sigh! old age! Human induced old age!
Moon looks like the sun,
bright glowing dark sun,
it is just the pollution,
Oh Mr Moon,
you now glow like a Mrs.
*chuckle*
I lament my earth,
I foresee disaster,
is extinction just the beginning of regeneration?
streams I concoct,
fresh air I breathe.
I am the blue sky,
Clouds dance in my shadows,
rainbows play hide and seek,
winter I smell,
smell of winter,
wintery winter.
Snow says it is on the way,
but it's flight is delayed due to climate change,
sun says I have extra work,
global warming makes me shine longer,
Do I not need rest?
Do I?
I am just plasma.
Glaciers are irritated,
"I am no longer solid," it proclaims,
is it just the age?
Sigh! old age! Human induced old age!
Moon looks like the sun,
bright glowing dark sun,
it is just the pollution,
Oh Mr Moon,
you now glow like a Mrs.
*chuckle*
I lament my earth,
I foresee disaster,
is extinction just the beginning of regeneration?