Teile / Parts

                            Teile

Herr  geht morgens spazieren. Seine Frau fragt wozu ?

Braucht man keinen Grund  zu haben, keine Antwort , kein ‚Dazu‘

Ein Muster ist nicht alles , was gemacht wird.

Es macht das Leben lebbar – Das Wirr – Warr.

Teile des Auges reflektiert das Kaleidoskop,

Teile sind manchmal schöner, nicht das Ganze !

                                          Parts

The need to go for a walk in the morning hues need not be justified.

A reason, an answer is far from needed.

Whatever is done is never a pattern.

It defines life – The Unplanned.

It’s just a part of your eyes, that a kaleidoscope reflects,

Parts are sometimes more beautiful than the Whole. 

Ohne Sonnenschein

Es ist schoener ohne Sonnenschein- heisst es ,

Schatten ueberall auf der Erde.

Zusammenzuzucken brauchen meine Augen nicht.

Es gibt es nicht - die Sonne !

Woraus ich meine Kraft ziehe? - Der kuehle Wind, der kommende Regen, die gewoelkten Wolken

Ich warte geduldig -  ich , ein durstiges Ich.

KL- 9414

This June brought me a trip to my old buddy, my native roots - Kerala ! After a heart stopping scary flight from Mumbai to Coimbatore, I was very close to reaching Gods own Paradise. Yes ,  flights are scary. I believe people don't admit it. The mere thought of not having a firm grounding beneath, sends me scouting for banyan trees, behind which i can hide so peacefully! Take offs are adrenaline pumping in a bad way and landings, well they are just about finding ground and applying brakes way too hard . I will surely dedicate some day a detailed article regarding the nightmare called Plane journeys.

Coming back to my original story. I reached the winding lanes of  'Nalepilly', a small village near 'Palakad'. With open arms I welcomed the sounds of coconut trees swishing from left to right and then again right to left. The heat in Kerala reduced to a mere negligent level, it felt great to be a part of this side of the country.
I remember how we used to crib as kids during our Kerala trips. My grandmother lives in a very primitive house. Its so primitive that the mud house welcomes all kinds of creepy crawlies, has an anti - tube light policy, is far far away from any restaurant, far from anything city like. We as kids with our half baked Malayalam, snobbish attitudes of being 'Bombaykaras' (people from Bombay) , we used to wait desperately to return by the next available Kurla- Coimbatore express! These memories make me laugh so hard.

This time around it had been a little different. Beginning with my grandmothers tales of Mahabharata and Ramayana, i was once again a kid, listening with awe and an improved concentration span.
   I never really cared to observe the rich flora and fauna that my grandmothers place offers. It, being so far away from civil world, the birds in all shapes and sizes and colors flock the lemon tree that stands so tall in front of the house. I wish I knew which birds these were, just like my niece and nephew, who know all the different species of birds that exists ever! Really the birds were a lovely sight and so were the elegant lizards, the chameleons and even the dogs that were housed in the huge bungalows. The bungalows remind me of the short visits we made to all the relatives houses. 12 different ones (Ha! Beat that). Eating and drinking refreshments 12 times in a row, talking about the weather, the next kid to be married off, etc took a whole lot out of me ! I was exhausted by the end of it. A thorough pleasant meet i must say after these many  months.  Well we 'Bombaykaras' are after all real experts at making these flying visits.

I wonder how healthy the people in Kerala must be, for they breathe oxygen freshly produced from the greens around. They consume fresh coconut oil , do not eat junk food. God bless Kerala !

My cherry on the top of a white chocolate cake moment was when i spotted a snake gliding away graciously around the mango tree :)

PS :- Just in case you wondered what the title of this write up means- well its the number plate of the royal white ambassador in which we roam around since childhood whenever we are in wonderland Kerala !

One fine Morning

A hot summer morning- a cuppa in her hand,

Stretching the tired muscles she reaches out as high as she can.

A look out of the window with a slight smile,

 Sips of the morning elixir, smoothens the pillow creases across her face.

She peeks, bends over slightly to catch a glimpse of the little yellow flowers.

The little yellow flowers on the concrete pavement they lie,

So fresh so cheerful, so oh my my !

They fall from tens to thousands, graciously from their green abodes,

The world around them smiling- the good old dancing Uncle John tree,

 the chimneys and  the squirrels running from hither to thee .

O what a wonderful sight it is for her to see- the pleasing nature in all its glory.

She peeks, bends over slightly to catch a glimpse of the little yellow flowers.

The little yellow flowers on the concrete pavement they lie,

So fresh so cheerful so oh my my !

About ‘Being’!

About ‘Being’!

The sun shines hard through my window pane, but I am cold.

The colourful spring is on its way, but to me the world is all black and white

Am I alone, even if I am with someone?

There certainly is a difference between ‘I’ and ‘us’.

Is it for me to ignore or to realise?

That I am always going to be alone in this world, even when I am surrounded by many. 

The Hands that always remains soft

The Hands that always remain soft

The Night in its full glory, so dark just as her life

A peep into her ‘Home’ - The vessels waiting for her and somebody waiting for the fresh dinner

By day transforming herself and rushing to work after the fulfilled commands

By night preparing the sumptuous dinner and then letting his naked body on top of hers

Time for a break? No way...

Early morning she must fearfully remove of what stinks, of what remains

Can he make something very elementary, like tea for example?

A mirror in front of him he must hold and slowly observe himself,

He is rotten, he is black, he is full of guilt... and his hands?

They are but of course soft and will remain so.

Of many a small things

Of many a small things 

my yellow nail paint speaks to me , 

my tooth brush tries to do the same,

i just tell them let me be,

because without you it’s not the right game.

the trees dance and so do the small twigs,

the flowers try to hold on,

of what feels like strong alchohol,the winds take too strong a swig

i wander alone , incomplete without you , through the lush green lawn.

what do i admire ?   the stars, the moon?

its not there , your intense gaze , your kiss,

the hands that hold me , its not there ... that boon..

i am longing for you ,  waiting to experience that pure bliss.

its not a poem , its the song my heart sings,

of loneliness , of separation , of many a small things.

come and hold me , come and hold me , for if you will,

tears will swell up and my heart will burst out crying...