Loosing the Human Touch

I walk in, pick up a basket and start throwing in groceries. It is a typical supermarket, brightly lit to accentuate the colourful items decoratively collectedly from countys and countries; French salad potatoes to African Fruits to Indian spices to fish and meat. I throw in more things, cheese, juice, milk, and every vegetable you can make datshi with. Infact I have discovered a new way of fast food, with the datshi drop in some rice as well, there comes your Bhutanese quickmeal.

I then wonder who grew these food items, what must their life be like, where, how did they fare from the deal, were they cheated, who makes money out this item that I buy, are we destroying the environment by buying food? Is that why we need to buy certified environmental friendly items? Cetification in most cases are a scam in itself so who do we trust? Is it an ethically produced item, ethically advertised and marketed?

I scan all that I need, I look around and see children chauffered by their parents in prams, calorie conscious people looking for no/low fat foods, no one talks to each other, for gods sake it's a SUPER market not an area of social interaction.

How recent is this supermarket phenomenon? How long ago was it that people went out to the local markets to buy necessities of survival, man on man? And I am shaken from my reverie of supermarket thoughts when I reach the queue. Everyone queues here, no one cuts lines or no one pushes, it's a calm queing process, of moving like ants, I must say I enjoy it. It gives me all the more time to look at people, what they have bought and what they are wearing or how they behave. I see some scratching themselves, some dazed, some listening to music and some simply in a hurry. I know nothing about any of them, I never see the same one in the queue again. I never know the man or woman behind the cashier is like - like I do when I buy things in India or Bhutan. The bill shows on the screen, he/she utters a number and a debit card swap, deal done. Some say have a good day or thank you, some are just disgruntled, I say thank you and leave.

I miss those bhaiyas and didis who had not even have calculators and who were open to bargain and talk and who had fresh food! I miss those amas and apas and agays who would chew doma and calmly give me my needs at the same time turning their prayer wheels or beads.I miss the humaness, the genuineness of a smile and conversations that made buying a process so interactive and an interesting experience.

What have we have done to ourselves? I just see silence, silence that seperates the human from the human and makes a computer or an ipod more personal than a person itself. I miss those bus conductors who would smoke biris and talk to you, narrate you stories.

Life is all about stories in the end, is it not?

I see the developing countries now marching the trend of supermarkets- in every field, that too with great pace,hurry and surity.

Is it just me who is emotional?

Ze Woman I met

On the way to a party, I met this really strange woman on the bus. The entire bus was almost empty, it was about 10 PM and there were two or three men at the back and a woman came sat next to me in the front row, I was a little surprised since there were so many empty seats and when I looked at her with that surprise highlighted on my face she started talking saying " I don't like sitting at ze back," before I could say something in return, she started mumbling how late ze bus is everytime and how it izis annoying to wait for ze bus for 25 minutes and how all her cousins have cars but she likes riding in ze bus and on and on ze went. I was amused, I quite liked listening to her. She had a "ze" accent, African roots (slight), short blode coloured hair which had turned to bronze and there she went with her ze zes....Few minutes later she told me she is French and her roots are from Venenzuela. Ze was one hell of a woman I have met who talked for so long in a span of some 5 minutes.

I hope to see ze woman again!

Excerpts from my love letters

I feel terribly lonely. I stretch my hands to touch you but it only brushes against my memory, frizzles and you fade into smiles while the gajini tune in the background dissolves. You appear again, I try to hug you but only end up crossing my arms hugging emptiness, I see you slip out of my embrace into my mind with your face infront of me. Crazy.

It has definitely been long since I wrote you a long epistle, there are so many things to tell and none to utter, so many to share and no words to express, what is the point telling you what has happened to me since I have come here, what is the point narrating my experiences when they are just mine and no story could re create it, it remains as nothing but my memories, good or bad I bury it silently, I feel wicked too for I know they are solely mine safely locked and chained and left aside in my private library.

What does it mean to be a companion? We are both different individuals, with different organs and functions, thoughts perceptions and experiences, how much do we share, what do share and how truthful are we to be? As a human as much as I have tried to be truthful sometimes I wonder whether I really have been, even to myself, there are times and incidences which make you lie to yourself, hide things from yourself where a part of you knows the truth and the other denies it, is it the battle between your superego, id and ego?

Double 'I'

I stare at the mirror,
It stares back at me,
I smile,
It smiles back,
I laugh,
I can hear silent echo from moving lips,
I raise my right hand,
It raises it's left,
It does look like me but I am not sure,
I see it everyday,
it does look familiar and yet so different,
do I see myself or do I see what I want to see?
I have seen myself grow,
a happy child to a grumpy teenager,
first tooth falls to curvy lips,
childlike to a woman inside,
my body a cover,
ready to be crumpled and wrinkled,
what am I?
What are you?

Proposal

I buried you today,
wicked smile on my face,
Smirk stretched for miles,
If only I had a pointed nose,
I would have looked like the perfect witch with a black hat,
burying you, satisfied.

Shoving white sheets with blank ink,
Tigers and Leopards scratching with their paws,
conflicts and battles smudged all over,
I took you to the grave
and e-mailed you.

Oh Boy you looked handsome,
dressed in your black tie,
ready to bid Goodbye,
adieu adieu never to see you,
please do not come back.
Slam (the lid) of the coffin!

Beat Bursts

Like a flower bud bursting open,
Like a ripe fruit spilling its seeds,
Like an emotional heart throwing arrows of words,
piercing with glances and speaking with eyes,
asking questions doe eyes,
those eyes I fear to face,
the rays of the days,
the seeds fall to grow again,
emotions ebb and flow to rise again,
the tides high and low,
sails the ship of my life on those,
sails the storms and the winds,
floats on calm air and shivers the sails,
oh hail, I have gallons of seas to sail,
my sails are weathering, my heart weakens,
my hands are aging my sight failing,
but the seeds still burst open,
the pods that boom,
hear the sound,
it's always the same.
Boom Boom

My poems are Dark and Depressing you say

Dark thoughts,
deep insights,
sights of darkness.
Only red roses are bright is it?
I question, I ask, I stumble, I mumble,
I seek, I find, I loose, I ask more,
I share, I write,
On nothing I can write yet telling you something,
Dark and Depressing they become, or you say so.
There is so much light in darkness,
dimmed light,
dark light,
bright bright it shines,
only if you see in darkness,
can you understand what I write,
no fright no fright,
just about right, so right that it frightens,
my talks of death and decay,
hits your immortal lives,
I know I know,
if it doesn't then you are not mortal.
My poems are dark and depressing you say,
I have fun writing them this way,
telling you that this is the way,
the only way,
life is but a walk to your grave!

Happiness

A glowing smile,
A tinge of happiness in the eyes,
Children playing hide and seek,

Rings of laughter in the air,
Smell of fresh spring,
A snail basking in the sun,
A glowing smile to melt your heart,
Monkeys swinging from trees,

A song bird rehearsing,

A dog chasing a fly,
A couple warm in embrace,
locked looks and kisses blown,
A lazy day on a hammock,
reading a book lazy and gay,
say say sing a song,
on happiness
a happy song.

Absurd

Endless Space.
Countless Stars.
Shapeless Sun.
Blue sky that is not blue.
Clouds that are not floating.
Dead hair and nails in a living being.
Mind that does not exist.
Soul that escapes when dead cannot be located when alive.
Logic is illogical.
There are no answers, just assumptions.
A journey without destination.
A stop one never knows.
Vagueness, Ambiguous,
Meaningfully meaningless,
Absurd.

Pain

Today was a painful day,

it hurt the mirth in me,
it trickled tears off me,
it made me make animal sounds,
howling and wailing,
in despair,
in despair,
beyond repair I lay,
to say much and be unheard,
to shout and know I had no voice,
to do much but separated by seas,
excruciating pain I felt,
throbbing in my heart,
paranoia of the unknown,
wanting to peer through a magic glass,
I wiped my tears only for more to fall,
like raindrops but salty,
full of emotions those potions and portions,
Dukkha as Buddha said,
suffering as Christ experienced,
pain people burnt alive felt,
I could feel the flames burn my body,
till I lay senseless,
numb,
staring into an abyss,
an abyss of not knowing what humans are capable of,
I fear not death,
but should you come and take take away someone
without your invite yet,
I shall kill you death,
slash you and death you shall die,
come you will but you should on your will,
not as a knife in another's hand,
nor as vengeance,
if you do,
revenge awaits.

Virtual Tea

I place the cups on the table,

Pour the boiling water,
Mix tea leaves and look,
as you stare at blank spaces,
I smile and get back to making tea,
The milk makes a gurgling sound,
The sugar chugs into the sea,
Floats swims and sinks,
Ripples form,
A nice brown,
"your tea," drink it,
Irony is there are no cups and no tea.
Slurp** 

SImAr

I miss you~

sea of waves life has become,
it gushes and pauses,
looks and freezes,
runs and laughs,
lots of plots,
lots and lots,
makes me lost.