28 May 2009
22 May 2009
Unicorns can fly ,
Unicorns have magical powers
and unicorns are in my mind ,
That is what my seven year old scribbled between soft parallel lines on the 19th. My mind wafted in to heroes and villains . Do they also exist only in one's mind.
What do you do with a dead hero and what do you do with a dead villain.
You lay to rest ,both , I recon. And move on.
Much happened back at home , past week. People have rejoiced , grieved , sighed of relief and wrote .
When the tarmac was kissed , I confess I felt my eyes cloud, heart a bit weighty . That's the surrealist in me . I am a sucker for that kind of things , I guess it is the midlife. My heart sheds a tear for the people , swarming in to the camps. Yet I am vague whether those people are glad to escape or whether they are dejected with their plight. I think I know how they feel. Think, being the focus word here.
I saw the photos of the dead man. And I felt confused . Honestly I never thought I'll see the day. Yet…
I assume every one of us went through this emotional roller-coaster to some extent during the past seven days . Happy ,Sad and a little confused. .
Miles away. Across seas . I could clearly hear the cheers and the sighs. My mind is all tanglse about , "how did"s and "what next"s. That throbbing feeling to do "something", has occupied my mind.
I close my eyes and only pray for us to get it right this time.
14 May 2009
Once a upon a life time
There we were
In the kovil boulevard
dim scent of jasmine
Sweet smell of summer
The bells ringing aloud
chants building up
my heart racing
I know yours is too
though your head bowed down
when I see the circles you draw
hinged at the heel, with your big toe
full moon in sand
I longed , to tame
your restive eyes
But they kept dancing
long after the music has stopped
In another life
Here we are
outside the pallid tents
waiting for lunch packets
like a silent
you look at me
I know you are thinking of Jaffna
09 May 2009
06 May 2009
Firstly apologize for continuing on this band wagon of a theme.
But it dawned to me , while Nepal has a rebel leaders who go by the name "Prachanda" (the fierce one), we have Karuna (the empathetic) and Daya (the sympathetic) and so on
Isn't this adequate to attest that we truly are a tender pack.
02 May 2009
Do I now escape Or do I stick with the familiar plight
Risk of getting shot at or risk of dyeing off starvation
Do I run away and risk the lives of my Grand children across seas
Do I run away fro this camp to another camp and depend on the kindness of strangers
On the other side of the curb another man is sitting on the veranda, looking at blackened smolder rising from the other side and darkening the clear blue colour scheme above. His grandson is playing at his feet. His daughter is in the kitchen planing lunch . He does not want to go in to the kitchen because he knows the drill. The boy’s father has called in the morning , from the Vavniya camp, just prior to marching in on a "mission". And like every time he calls , the daughter will be with cloudy eyes, and will break down at random. In the evening she will go to the temple for the daily Bodhi pooja.
He shuns the situation he does not know how to handle.
He too is trying make a choice.
Do they have the same right as us
Were they actually victims or were they supporters at one point
Do I lend my hand
Do I extend my kindness
to the people coming from the other side.
PS: The decision would be easy, when we realise that it is in fact our long lost friend, relative who is on the other side