Who am I? what am I?
For the eyes that surround
I am The Joker
juggling many roles
of husband, of brother
a son, a chauffeur;
they applaud they cheer
they judge they sneer
as I am put on a seesaw
of class and affluence
swinging up and down
going up and down
I am an average Joe
trapped in a merry-go-round
of profession and chore
going round and round
aimlessly round and round;
but when the show's over
the curtains are down
peeling the layers of
the painted clown;
who am I? what am I?
For the eyes that surround
have grown as blind
as a bat; who am I?
I am Batman
fighting no crime
singing this rhyme
I am Batman
I am no mediocre man
I am Batman
I am Batman

My mind's as blank
as the screen I stare into
aimlessly searching for
my memories of you
my feelings for you
comfortably stowed
and archived into the
vaults of my brain and
the key misplaced
the codes erased
for I never wanted them
dressed in words
put up to display
for the prying eyes
the perceiving mind
my private collectibles
stainless and pure
lay dormant and secure

But now you are here
to give my thoughts
a new life
a new meaning
to stake your claim
on what is rightfully
yours as is mine
the time is ripe
to break open the vaults
dig deeper and bring
forth my thoughts
your thoughts; but
the codes erased
the key misplaced
my thoughts remain
archived and stowed
my feelings, my memories
timeless and rustless stay
in the vaults of my brain
I stare into the screen
dressed with words
ready for display but
My mind's as blank as before

"Uncle ko hataao.. Aunty ko bitaao aur popcorn khaoo...!!" wailed the young boy who sold popcorn in a sack that could carry him.. He had the looks of a Bollywood hero's child character.. Cute looks, long hair, dialogues more mature for his age and an anger hinting at a dreadful flashback.. By the time the chuk-chuk reached the station the boy would step out of the train as a tall lanky handsome hero with a lucrative business of smuggling gold in the shape of popcorn...

My trite imagination is brought to a grinding halt as the train starts to slow down bringing the boy back to his age as he and his life moved on carrying the popcorn sack to make a living.. Popcorns, chanas, trite imagination are common place in a sleeper class compartment as the train chugs its way past the urban jungle into the lush green high parks.. The nasty metropolitan setting where time is relentless and races well ahead of nearly every other thing and life trudges along trying to keep pace.. The urban life gets spent in pubs and congested traffic doing the same thing swaying to loud music or blaring horns and sucking hookas or silencers.. A respite was imperative an escape from the tangles of traffic from the massive structures of concrete that changed shape with the blink of an eye to a distant place where colossal structures stood unyielding to the tantrums of time and life had a laid back attitude embracing everything..

Unlike the concrete structures that boomed in a short span of time, the grandeur that we witnessed here never dropped into existence in a momentary glimpse of time as if an artist filled a void with a single stroke of the brush. It took immense eons of time for evolution to decide the perfect blend of pastels to be pasted on the august mountains that stood testimony to a multitude of life forms evolved, thrived, survived and gone extinct. The majestic mountains draped in various hues of green, wearing the clouds as their crown and bleeding milky white streams that ran helter-skelter making space through the thickets of greenery with an intent to attain peace.. just like every mango man's (aam aadmi) dream to settle down, find stability.. the white stream ultimately finds it under the feet of its creator and settles down clear, blue and serene mirroring the sky..

Atop the mountains one not only gets to see the dazzling display of rains intensifying the beauty of the landscape but also feel the presence of the birth place of the rains. Rendezvous with the rainmaker at his prime weaving tiny sparkling droplets ready for its descent. The cold and polished touch of the freshly woven raindrops kissing the naked and receptive skin. The shuddering, goosebumps inducing brush of raindrops against the skin, the misty smell of freshness running up the nostrils into the olfactory senses triggering memories, the panoramic view frozen behind the eye lids shut tightly closed to contain the grandiose, the arms taking the shape of wings spread apart ready for the ascent, the head rising upwards.. experiencing a heightened sense of emotions reaching its pinnacle, the emotional ascent taking one to the top of the world and a fleeting glimpse of that ever lasting moment is framed into a camera and the rest ad infinitum etched into the memory..

the evening spell of rain
showering through the clouds
trickling down the leaves
dancing on the palm
a little tickle
a little cold
the lonely palm
moist and wet
yearning for warmth
seeking support to
soak in unison
clasp together and
soak to the bone
the tiny droplets
squeezed and churned
into beads of love
the lonely palm
moist and wet
yearning and waiting
as the dancing droplets
dribble down drop by
drop into the unknown

The year is 2012 February the 8th.. Its been over a year since you have been lying dormant.. The fans (???) thought you would come back like you always managed to do.. break out of the slumber, stifle a yawn, blabber the usual nonsense and retreat cocooned into the oblivion.. But this time you stayed longer so much as to declare you dead.. but nobody mourned.. nobody cared.. the world is plagued with idiots like you..

one Blog dead, one blogger gone.. zillions fill in with terabytes of junk.. life goes on under the reign of mediocrity...

The blogger is back after an year of hibernation.. he is desperate to make his come-out-of-the-dead post lively.. but the mundane is only as interesting as the crow can get white (or the Dee can get tanned.. Aravind Swamy.. ring a bell..!!)

so where have you been??

circling effortlessly along the wheels of time like the wall clock but getting no where.. growing old adding more candles to the birthday cake but getting less bright with the passing birthday.. (no no we are not discussing skin color..!!)

Birthdays serve as a harsh reminder of the age that only knows to propel forward.. it doesnt run as you try keeping pace with hustle and bustle of life or stay still as you lay back lost in thought staring at the starry sky.. age strolls on at its own pace like a marathon runner unyielding to the demands of life..

The past one year was tuned to a single note with the low notes of gloom and high notes of glee few and far in between and easily forgotten.. life stayed course satisfied embracing mediocrity..

what do you propose to do??

With the Blog reinstated from trash the blogger would try to contribute to the pile of junk more often than the current cycles of hibernation.. Keep the fans a notch or two happier than the fact that the Blog was dead for good...

Until the next post......