shall be

I shall be me.

Thou shall be thee.

We shall be us.

Love shall be thus.

Could he be thinking so?

Just when Triple H was about to smash Undertaker’s head, with the hammer, someone from behind closed my eyes with his/her palms. It was something I was dying to see and thanks to this clichéd act of announcing one’s presence as a surprise to another, I missed it. It made me angry. Furiously angry, I should say, like I almost considered being Triple H and that person to be Undertaker. But, the moment I realized who it was, I had to beam like I really was pleasantly surprised and follow the usual ritual of throwing some sweet-sounding greetings at them and giving those repeated hi5s and prolonged hugs, before I got back to watching television. I am asked to do so. My care-taker tells me they are the ones who helped us a bit, might help us ahead, and, most importantly, ‘can’ help us. So, we are asked to market ourselves by advertising our sweetness, obedience, innocence and the likes, that way. Some of these people come to us whenever they are free, to play with us and feel good, and sometimes I felt like telling them I was not. But, I couldn’t take that risk. Apparently, I’m too less privileged to do so.


And then the “occasion” types - these neighbors who come down whenever there is some birthday or some such thing of their kids and some once-in-a-year-philanthropists who turn up only around the Xmas time every year. We are supposed to sing the birthday song for those kids, loud and in a laudatory tone, or probably sing and dance to the Xmas-in-the-air songs, praising Lord Jesus and cursing the Satan, for the other set of people. They give us candies and other such stuff, that’s their investment, God’s blessings, the returns, and we, the medium, the market - to use a more discomforting word. I would have been pleased had the kid been my friend, who joins me at play, etc, and gives me that candy for he/she wants to give it to me, or had those Xmas visitors visited a bit more often and not just to repair their goodness-accounts maintained by Santa. I mean, I don’t quite know who that kid is and he/she doesn’t know who I am, though we are each other's neighbors! They don’t distribute candies in some random school, to some well-privileged kids, do they? That gives me a feeling I am being used, merely as that medium.


Also, by these people who run this place, I feel. A well funded religion theirs is, enabled to win people to practice it, I suspect, and we are easy pickings, I feel. I’m a believer, practicing their religion, as they kindly chose to take care of me - that’s the obligation, the deal. They preach religious stuff, day in and day out, through a thousand sermons and prayers. All that never interests me, as much as WWE and Tamil movies do. But, I don’t have a choice, like in most other cases. What’s worse is, I can’t watch the “super-hit” Tamil movies’ Sunday premieres on television, as we are made to sing at the Church during that time, probably only because it looks nice and cute to everyone there. That makes me angry, but I’m scared to be angry for I fear I’m sinning that way and will end up on Satan’s side – “the losing side” – though I’m quite doubtful about all such things they teach me. So, I atleast act I’m not.


Overall, I’m a good actor, am I not? Tamil movie superstar, I wish to be. Wonder if someone can help at that. Anyways, Triple H won. I'm happy for now.

This is how I heard it

Don't look at me that way. I'm not born mad. No, I am not.

Yes, I do scream at the top of my voice, for this, that and everything. But, I do it particularly well only when I'm exceedingly frustrated, amongst other times when I do it for the fun of it or some silly thing of that stupid sort. That genuinely beautiful woman sitting next to you, nor the perfumed pervert sitting next to her, and not any ugly swan down the lake, nor any cute little pig nearby the gutter, none of you give a damn about me. As if I care! Intact, I quite hate you guys being scared of me to look cute to your girlfriends or acting brave for them when you are actually scared of me.

And please ask your girlfriends to stop feeding me the food they are supposed to have. It is cliched, and not cute anymore. I would make a sincere request to you all, to not even imagine of pitying me. I don't expect any warmth from your bloody breed-- the warm-blooded bodies with cold-blooded minds. You please be bothered about the warmth and wars amongst yourselves, in the first-place. And, yes, I can win my own food, the hard way that I've learnt, or die hungry instead, though I still do run behind your semi and super luxury cars, and I know that irritates you, like hell. But, that is how my screwed up head's wired, making me think anything that is running away from me is my Goddamn prey. But, its ridiculously easy for you to ignore my innocence, isn't it? You throw stones at me, and give bones to your belt-wearing bitch. Please continue doing that, sir.

I should admit, it indeed gives me an extraordinary pleasure when you are really scared of me, though. Go pray, for you ought to play prey to my ego, now on. Another dirty look or a fucking stone my way, I'm going to bite your ass off you, you son of a woman!

Goodbye

On the other side,
of those glass boundaries,
they are all there,
the founts of my best memories.

Guess I am carrying
the passport, the passes,
and all I would need,
but not the willingness.

I can feel the vacuum,
all around and within.
What am I missing?
Well, everything!

They are all waving,
my memories' founts,
from there beneath,
those wide glass bounds.

I wave back to them,
and everything blurs out,
as my eyes get filled,
I can hear them shout.

I stand still, wondering,
'why cant we all be together',
as time and the crowd
go hell for leather.

Another look at them,
my best memories,
I can see myself,
on those glass boundaries.

Dear 10

You drive me crazy
You cut me loose
You sweep me off my feet
Never let me choose

[..just unbelievably glorious stuff from the little master.. ]

I have a conscience,
I’ve learnt some science,
And theory of probability too,
In the time you let me to.
Yet I staunchly believe,
In an Almighty soul.
Who else, dear Ten,
You never let me choose.

[..like a rampaging river.. unnnstoppable.. Wooh! That's a wookie-pookie! ]

I neither know you much,
Nor owe you as such,
On personal fronts,
Or material grounds,
But, quite often, dear Ten,
May be moronic, and ironic,
That out of all, to me,
Ten comes before 9.

[Crowd roaring .. "Sacheeen.. Sachin..".. (3 claps).. ]

Coz you just drive me crazy
Cut me loose
Sweep me off my feet
And never let me choose

[..I run out of superlatives now.. can just say I feel absolutely privileged to be watching this.. ]

Wonder what I'm gonna be...

Hoi-polloi are busy,
occupied, so to be,
I'm alone, n at sea,
Wonder what I'm gonna be.

[humming]

Like a sunflower, on a gloomy day,
my comrade in confusion,
that wonders what to look at,
I wonder what not to.
The noetic senescence
got only to nonsense.

The tiny star, twinkling all night,
my comrade in confusion,
it wonders whether to glow,
n I, where to go.
Wit and sapience,
hit no difference.

'm not a flower,
'm not a star,
as none can decipher,
a reference to a cipher.
n there's none of the humankind,
as my comrade in confusion.
I'm alone, and at sea.
Wonder what I'm gonna be.

The whole senescence
made no sense,
n all the sapience,
no real difference.
I've grown old,
I turned cold.
Is it a shame?
All the same.
I'm still a nobody,
Wonder what else I could be.

Hoi-polloi are busy,
occupied, so to be.
They wanna progress,
n they have a process.
[sigh] I can't follow,
I can't follow.
Can only remain cold,
and let my story unfold.
A tragedy, a lullaby,
Wonder what it's gonna be.

[humming]

I'm alone, n at sea,
Wonder what I'm gonna be.

Bapu Bommalu

Bapu Bommalu [of another kind]
Location: Ramakrishna Beach, Visakhapatnam
Soundtrack: Vaishnavo Janato from Water, by A.R.Rahman
(Hugely) Helped by: Jyothi Tetali [Rather, I helped her, I should say. ]
Thankful to Chandra Bose Baabu and Gandhi [the two kids]