Thursday, March 31, 2011

Touch of Sun

waiting in melancholy
like a restive, unquite, summer bee.

I spent time rummaging through an unorganized ' trunk '. What I held in hand was not quite what I intended to hold. Yet this, I knew, was all I would find today.

Sometimes, like now, it feels so, to bring the words to rhyme. I stop, thus, with the lines above, till the mind ( i.e the unorganized trunk ) makes poetry again.

This ( picture below ) has become a wall-paper out my balcony. Flowering to a happy yellow. And it seems to compete. The brighter the sun, brighter it beams. I will spend more time, swirling around it like the afore mentioned bee and spy into the nector. It might help to spell the sweetness it holds.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Time to be

like a pendulum clock,
it steals my time,
my life in moments,
breathing, in beats.

pulses, in between,
reminds, of a corner
lost in love, in dream.

there are moments gone,
i want to keep.
past, some i want to see.
i wish to hold the hand
of time; to never walk
away, from me.

Hamsa damayanthi by Raja Ravi Varma, 1848-1906

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Life, now.

at first it was a silence. preferred.

and days went by. living in the breath of silence. or so it felt. those crowded rooms. unheard voices. disguised faces. eyes can lie, without the mind. and conscience takes some time to wake. choices remain. a haunting dream. yet alone. through the night and day. life. rage. grief. be.

am i out of the silence, yet ?

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Tears to sauté

late that night. i held the wooden handle. with a tired hand. i sharpened. the metal. back and forth. back. and forth. it was time. the room was getting hotter. and you?. you lay there. useless. i cut you. through.

you had layers. within. you didn't show. not until, now. it was done. again.

i fought back tears.

' Payasam '

Here is a traditional grandmother's recipe for sharkara payasam. Sharkara in malayalam means jaggery. She made it for my star birthday, on 22nd this month.

Sharkara Payasam - recipe


1 cup rice
1 1/2 cups water ( to cook rice )
1 1/2 cups jaggery
1/4 cup water ( to dissolve jaggery )
5 cloves cardamom
few cashewnuts and raisins ( roasted in a tablespoon of ghee )
3 tablespoons ghee


Cook the rice. Melt or dissolve the jaggery in water, in a deep pan, over a medium flame. Add the cooked rice and stir continuously until well mixed and texture is semi-solid. Add roasted cashewnuts and raisins . Sprinkle powdered cardamom. Add ghee and mix well.

I personally love it after refrigerating it for an hour.

Note :

Jaggery (also transliterated as jaggeree) is a traditional unrefined non-centrifugal whole cane sugar. It is a concentrated product of cane juice without separation of the molasses and crystals, and can vary from golden brown to dark brown in color.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


" You'll never find peace by hating, lad.
It only shuts ye off
more from the world. And this town
is only a cursed place,
if ye make it so.
To the rest of us, 'tis a blessed place! " 

- Brigadoon, 1954

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Luncheon of the Boating Party

Pierre Auguste Renoir ( 1841-1919 ) was a French impressionist painter. As a child he worked in a porcelain factory in Paris, painting designs on china. However at the age of 17, he copied paintings on fans, lamp shades, and blinds. 

I can almost hear the chitter-chatter, the ethereal wind; the painting seems almost alive. The first thing that caught my eye was the lady at the table, holding a dog, Renoir's future wife, Aline Charigot. The painting depicts a group of Renoir's friends relaxing on a balcony at the Maison Fournaise along the Seine river in Chatou, France. The painter and art patron, Gustave Caillebotte, is seated in the lower right.

The luncheon of the boating party, 1880-1881
My poetry for today.

The silver teeth tickled remnants on the plate
the sticky crumbs and preserve, noisy as it takes,
a journey, again, the bearer to its taste.
like an uncorked bottle, spirited
they were, mouthful of gossips and french toasts, buttered. 
content were all, happy as the furry tail
wagging in delight, even the dog had a tale.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Solace in Summer

My choice of fossil words : ' Eke out ' and ' the days of yore '. For reasons of being mildly fossil fetish, I dug the two out from here and snuggled them into my favorite words list. I am yet to decide, if I should go back and adopt  ' loggerheads ' too.

The walls in my head have momentarily become opaque to my own eyes. Yet I realize, it is lately boasting of a lot of re-read O Henry stories and random poetry. The latter brought back distinct memories. Especially because I had used them for recitals in my childhood days.

As for short stories, I am almost gliding midway in The Proof of the Pudding. The days play the role of summer, erasing traces of benign spring. Thus I propose to spend them, sheltered under the solacing words of printed prose. And occasionally, nibble on to a sweet, green grape.

" We may achieve climate,
but weather is
thrust upon us "

- O Henry

Friday, March 18, 2011


..of reasons even words can't say.

image source : lines and shades

Ferns on a sill

dews, upon asparagus green,
colored alike with white edged ring
drops, like mirrors cling on wings,
shining gay as a robin sings.

high above the ground of growth
tied in lace with a good-will note
through an open wall, it hoped
to charm the day, by the window. 

Monday, March 14, 2011

Scent of Prime

a summer afternoon
in a corner of my room
dashed rays, on pages
through transparent panes.

the bounded back,
aged and slack
almost held frail sheets,
crusty, brown with ashen prints.

nares, held the scent of prime
aged and divine, as preserved wine
the vintage rested; old and wise
beyond my age, before my eyes.

Books are lighthouses erected in the great sea of time.

- Edwin. P. Whipple

image : lines and shades

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Afternoon Light for white.

image : lines and shades

The Measuring 'rope'

deep down a burrow. of unconventional depth. i love. smile. sing. dream. with no walls around. and so it grows. night and day. for me. in me. my way.

'cause i never let the rope. ' burrow ' into my muse. 

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Faithful Tart

it wriggled down.
the porcelain. 
crusted brown and glazed in jam.
it sat there, proud
stout and round
larger than it's place.
onto the crust
a bite, a mouthful.
faithful to the waist.
memories wake the concience;
yet, i smack away
the sweet on thumb;
weasel out the
final crumbs.
one more beneath
the palate, i crave.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Spooky View

I've been living with this view from my balcony, for quite a few years. It is not a house, but part of a building, that is not inhabited. I haven't been in that spot or the compound, but I feel a few yards away is near enough.

I just had a closer look today; an interesting picture to paint. The wooden door is tainted, white and deeply cracked. The lock, severely rusted, hangs on an equally sordid latch. Concrete stairs to the doorstep are uneven, with remnants of dried twigs hurled on them, by hot summer breeze.

Wonder if it has a haunting history !

image : lines and shades

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Boys' Weekend

Maybe it has become a rarity. To simply love living. Life, love and company; not many can weave it all together, so well. Thus it gives a kind of joy to watch Boys' Weekend.

A show that radiates hilarity and pulses of fun to the heights of existence. It's a relaxation to watch them narrate, cook, learn about cultural food. And they show us the most precious elements in their story; passion for fun, life and food.

Boys' Weekend, airs in BBC Entertainment and stars Britain's Gary Mehigan, Spaniard Miguel Mastre, Frenchman Manu Fiedel and Aussie Adrian Richardson; cooking in some of the incredible locations of australia.


stagnant stones
tall and wide
wall the sides of an
empty cave.

a familiar darkness
confined to the space.
and mind.
i stand there.
growing in silence.
moments hold on.
to nothing.
no real world.
no real words.
yet we both wait.
the moment and I.
reasons even words can't say.

i lean on my window.
it's pellucid and cold.
i lean, further.
then, walk past.
in sunlight.

living in times.
liable to wake.
once again i walk through
the falls.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

En Pointe

midway in a silent sky. i wish to stop by. i wish, reach. leap. higher, each time.

so one day. i can fall. like a feather. of an eagle.

image : ballet shoes

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Notes from an Apricot

together. on the white floor. been tossed in snow. before. now, without the cold. it gave away. as sudden as the misplaced spring. but I lay alive. wobbling afloat. why i didn't drown?

seconds march. and i along. swirling. infusing. thick as lava. a measured sweetness, lives within. forever.

a new day. and sobriquet. a danish preserve. now.

image : apricot

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The Perfumer's Sketch

The hours liked to witness these.
And so did he.
She smoothened the crease on her cape.
He settled with his graphite.
She sipped her steaming chocolate.
Days elapsed, infusing in past.
She doesn't see those eyes on her.
He makes sure, she doesn't.
She works for Chanel.
He once worked with her.

A newsprint behind a thick white sheet.
In the cafe, he looked like a regular,
lost in politics.
For him it was an equivalent,

She opened a thin notepad.
Heavily inked, in cursive,
He noticed her pearls,
as her left hand wrote.

He wanted it to last,
Like the permanence of
an unpromised future.
What a perfect, unforeseen
As propitious as a bottle of scent.

Two days later, he felt
He looked towards the window table.
The same white pearls,
the same uniform underneath
the auburn cape.
He looked again at the vignette, pictured.
And titled the sketch,
' The Perfumer '.
with a footnote,
' happy anniversary '.

image source

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Peonies pleasures

I just had to post this. Because they are beautiful, elegant, subtle, and my favorite.

Peonies are often scented and are of various colors ranging from red to white or yellow. They are usually seen in late spring and early summer. 

Peonies tend to attract ants to the flower buds. This is due to the nectar that forms on the outside of the flower buds, and is not required for the plants' own pollination or other growth. They help in opening the dense double flower buds.