Haunted

I bring the hexagonal
piece of wood
where they shall
hereafter rest.

"Thou shall remain
here forever" I am
forced to jest.

Just when I think
I have rammed
the final nail in vain,

They jump effortlessly
out of the box to
haunt me, yet again.

Those ghosts called
.
.
.
.
.
Memories !

P.S. For a memory that is gonna haunt me in the years to come :P :P

Moksha

The holy fire
setting my funeral ablaze
Your sacred breath
adding to the craze

I savor the
liberation of my soul
From the extremely
fragile fenced pole

A transformation
occurring in a flash
From merely a cigar
to mighty gray ash

AWESOME TWOSOME

Him, an epitome of
impeccable might
As mesmerizing at night
as he is through
the day and twilight

I, the blood
nourishing his veins.
Like the brook and soil,
I let him breathe
till I drain.

Together,
we give rides,
profound and long
with bonds
deep and strong.

Him, a mighty bike
and I,
the fuel he likes.

Resounding Quiescence

I stand hastily
wrapped around
in a filthy garment.
Perhaps it is
adequate; for I
am dormant.

You hesitate
to tread into
my frontier.
What is it in me
that you fear ?

The ruggedness
of my skin
or the sheer
hopelessness of my
ghastly grin ?

Fear not; I am just
a lonely scare crow.
Neither a friend
nor a foe !

Dark depiction

I decide against the
tints and hues
over speculations of
infinitesimal use.

A sheet of
white with streaks of
black squiggled all over.
There it lies,
the message I intend
to deliver !

Filled with
the aberrant signs
that are strewn,
I end up making
.
.
.
.
A cartoon !

Inspired by: This cartoon

Cartoon courtesy: Srivatsan's blog

The infinite loop

Inspired by a post in a blog that I happened to read today. I suggest you read that for a better understanding of my post.
Read it here

Inspirations are hard to come by these days and I owe one to Krishnamurthy. If you happen to read this, "Thanks a bunch for stimulating my neurons. They had been very very lazy of late."

So here it goes, my sequel to his post.

I believed that human beings are the result of a similar effort, being created out of primitive creatures, eventually evolving into the current state of intelligence. Today human beings are intelligent enough, not only to exhibit features such as natural language processing, logical reasoning and decision making, learning, and much more; but also make intelligent systems of their own.

Some how this theory makes perfect sense to me. (Another proud computer engineer). So I have worked out something to support Krish and here it goes.

A mere neanderthal (a non intelligent computer)

• to a cave man capable of producing and understanding sounds (that is when natural language processing was embedded )

• to the stone and metal age man who was capable of creating scripts and store them (updated to include the magical ingredient for Knowledge Representation)

• to the first set of civilizations (when man first began to look for *reasons* in order to *stay together*)

• to the robust modern age man (adapting to changes in place, culture, food, and needless to say a trillion other things -> MAchiNe learning :P)

It is not insane to assume that contemporary computer engineers are trying to replicate the process in order to make computers intelligent. (Well of course only under restricted conditions; no one wants a Matrix trilogy on Earth! :-o)

The biologist in me is in no mood to nod. Here is what she asked "What if these had happened by an accidental/deliberate manipulation of the creature's inner stuff by the creature itself ?" (Thanks! You could not have been more confusing :D )

The chemist in me came rushing to her rescue. "It could have also been something like the hyper/hypo secretion of an enzyme or a climatic change or the accidental addition of a certain molecule" (Oh please do not tell me a Computer is going to be intelligent if we bury it deep in the arctic snow with a motherboard made of a different material :D )

Eitherways, I dont have an answer. Do you ?

Disclaimer: Pun Intended !

A big thank you to KV for letting me read his bro's blog :D

A Throb

My aorta picks up
blood in accord with
the new beat
and the veins are
glad to take the
loop and repeat.

I stand still
wondering if the
feel was pleasant
or a bummer.
.
.
Hey, are you the drummer?

P.S. Ahem ! :P

A rescue

I watch you
crushing his
helpless throat.
Your vicious eyes
beaming with gloat.

Unruffled, despite
attempting a sin,
you send down
an evil grin.

With his gasps
getting worse
every passing minute,
I couldn't afford to
stand in a mere mute.

I decide to end the row
before you taste his meat.
Sans hesitation, I grab
the keyboard and press
Ctrl+Alt+Delete.


Now that is how I feel every time MS Office 2007 chokes my system x-(

Conflict

HE "Smooth it is" "Spherical in shape" "It is dense. Feel it" "They call it LEAD"

SHE "Yes. Like a seed from the pod" Agrees with a nod Feels and seconds what he said "No, it is PLUMBUM. Haven t you read?"

Inspired by the leadshots that came flying out of my keyboard slider :P

Classic - 3

He strums with
incessant passion;

Magnetism and the ciruit
underneath, provide
perfect amplification

Strum stirs the soul !

The physics of music.
.
.
.
Classic.

P.S. A humble tribute to a powerful instrument: The electric guitar.

A note of contradiction

In reply to a certain comment by muthu

Read the comment here

No matter what

comes down from 

my pen;

an elegy or ode;

of loss, betrayal

or a gentle caress.

This is me

I write for pun.

Nothing more 

and nothing less

It is not pain that

rules this world.

There is irony,

absurdity and a

dozen other notions

less explored

You write of love

and the pain that follows;

I will stay back 

and let my pen present

the deprived with

a deserving halo.

Ah and I know you'll not agree to this. 

But this is what I am and will be.

Blood stain

I had not written anything off late, save reading other blogs and commenting. Been a lifetime since I visited the realm of writing, the Writers Lounge. No excuses for the fault lies with me. I am not completely back to blogosphere yet.

I stare at your 

crimson blood still 

staining my 

guilty palm.

I regret and repent

yet remain in a

ghastly calm.

In a moment or two

I shall wash you

off my hand.

You will fade away

leaving behind  the

blood strand.

I remember you

never had issues

with me

yet I crushed, pounded

and eventually

killed you, Mehendi.

Love you

I hold your hands,

feel your warmth and

long for your smile.

You turn away and remain

unusually silent for a while.

I caress your forehead

and kiss your cheek.

You refuse to come

out of your world,

making me feel meek.

I try again to prove

that my love is true.

Still, you ignore me,

suck your thumb

and say gaa gaa goo goo

P.S. Dedicated to a two year old nephew of mine

Combat

I watch you 

breaching silently

into our territory.

Annoyed, I over whelm

with relentless fury.

You defile the 

pathway into my 

prodigious kingdom.

I devise a plan

of attack at random.

My allies inside 

appreciate the 

startling wisdom

You are to be defeated 

at once for I am against

appease

and my allies will

now storm out in the

form of a SNEEZE

I --> air trying to get inside the nostrils

You --> dust in nostrils 

N.B. When particles of dust irritate the nasal mucosa they are thrown away by convulsive expulsion of air from the lungs. 

Memory lost

I stand behind a pretty

mother preaching her son of

the right and wrong.

A lose hair from her 

careless bun takes

my rimless glasses along

In an attempt to avoid

the free fall of my 

ever reliable ally,

I place my shoe on her 

naked foot.Unintentionally.

She lets out a cry.

Flattened spheres of gray 

plastic on my ears confine my 

audibility.Confused, I smile.

It is such a pleasure to

"people watch" in the 

peak hour rush.

But then a sense of

untold fear creeps and 

I stand hushed.

Left the purse back

home and here comes the

collector. Time to blush.

Consonance

I open you and
pick one of the
several seeds inside.
First one rolls.
I bethink of a bygone
memory brushed aside.

By the time the
flavor of the second
fills my heart.
I behold the image
beloved friend
now miles apart.

Midway through the
third, I realize that
my cheeks are drenched.
Wiping away the damp
salinity, I stand.
My heart wrenched.

Exhausted with the
gush of fervor and remorse,
a sequel of your rhythmic course,
I close you with a sigh.
.
.
My Pod and I.



Golly am amazed at Apple's naming skills ;)

Genesis

Beside you
stood the tomb
painted pearl white,
concealing the
reddish thromb.

I pine for your
ever credible
resurrection.

But you still
appear dormant.
A rejection.

Days pass and you
eventually emerge,
placid and aplomb.

Only a tooth!

Wisdom
still buried deep
inside the catacomb.

Apathy

"Thats it we'll break
up." My mobile beeps
with your message.
I wonder if it were
the beginning of agony
or the end of a rage.

My fingers are numb.
I turn insensitive from
my wrist to thumb.
Still,
"Oh yeah am glad !"
I snap you mum.

Blood travelling through
the seemingly green
veins, I still see.
Not wasting a minute
I grab the remote
and turn off the AC.

Bizzare betrayal

"Not again !", I

hear you screaming.

Still I neglect. My

attitude beaming.

I feel his intense

chill filling my ever

longing lips

He melts in my

warmth and the

pleasure I would 

never skip.

"Enough of it !" I 

hear you whine,

"I will be punished

For no fault of

mine".

My love is blind.

But now I repent in dismay.

I have sinned again for

its you I have betrayed.

"I swear you, my NOSE,

I will recover from the

addiction towards him,

the ICE CREAM, for he

is the cause of your grim"

P.S. My nose suffers from a block every time I eat ice cream :(

Obsolescence

I relish your sad state
sitting by the window seat.
They reckon you are
meeker than a dog
in the street.

"Take me home", you beg
to every one you see.
Yet no one listens
to your egoistic plea.

Long ago you giggled
at their fate.
Now you repent
but it is too late.

Once you made
them cut throats
of innocents to get you
and now they
call you "An
obsolete rupee note"
of no use.

Unsought destiny

I think of the days 
we had spent together
in the penthouse from
where we had touched the
sparrow's feathers.

HE, the devil had 
parted us by force
our life was no more
the way we chose.

One of you was
butchered thrashed 
and crushed
while the other was
heated alive till dead.

Now I will have to 
grow again
and watch my residents
suffer in pain.

They would be crushed
like you to form the flour
and would be heated till
they pop out of the door.

We are destined
to be torn
for we are just 
meek sweet corns.

Survival strategy

You should betray

or bribe to strive.

You need to adapt

so as to survive.

It is mandatory to

fake your profile

for it is futile being 

skilled and agile.

Murder, deceive,

beg, buff and flirt.

These glitters would

cover the filth and dirt.

Darwin's findings 

are now weary.

It is high time we

change the theory.

"The world is 

only for the cunning "

since the fittest are

still running. 

Absurd apprehension

You up root them
one by one.
Afraid, I ask "What
have you done? "

"They will grow back
dear." you say.
Still apprehensive,
I don't give away.

You persuade me
to try it out.
You bring your tool
near and I shout.

Can such a process cause
some one so much fear?
Doubtless! It can
move me into tears.

Despite your assurance
that they would
grow again,
your attempts to make
me prune my eyebrows
will only end in vain.

I still don't understand why the sight of some one threading their brows causes so much fear in me.

Morning, noon and night - part 1

"Why, you wanna tell me how to live my life?
Who, are you to tell me if it's black or white?"

Mum gets irritated every time she listens to Bon Jovi from my mobile. Not that she is against me listening to western music just that it is because that Bon Jovi wakes her up at 6 every morning when he is actually devised to wake ME. I wake up and turn him off as soon as possible before mum threatens to play suprabatham* at 5 A.M tomorrow.

It was time to send a "Good morning darling. Wake up" to Sugan, my school mate who lives on the opposite end of my area. Since she was now home for her so called "MBA research" we walk together in the morning. She was to walk down from her end till the nearby university where my papa works and myself from my end up till the university campus so that we meet and walk for a while inside the staff quarters before returning home. Message sent.

I brushed and freshened up ready to leave when the mobile beeped. Guessing that it must have been another forward by some early bird I was shocked to see that it was from krithi, one hell of a lazy dear, my college mate. Bad day for her. Another forward that read "sweet lines" followed by some blah blah mushy message which I did not find to be sweet. Regretting my hopeless emotional quotient I started to walk. Sugan hadn't yet replied, not even a missed call. Perhaps she ain't out of her cozy bed I thought. Decided to give her a "Be there tomorrow at least idiot" message as soon as I came back home.

I reached the main road in a couple of minutes. The road ends in Maruthamlai the sacred hill near by. The walk is always pleasant. The road was not particularly buzzing with activity since it was a Sunday ( would have been the same even other wise since ours is the farthermost suburb of coimbatore, a majority of occupants being retired couples, families of the staff of the university I referred to earlier and quite a few locals besides lots of street dogs).

After exchanging pleasantries with my high school principal and mentor, Father Francis who lived along with the other members of the CMI society at the hostel near the chapel inside the school premises I stopped to greet Rukmani amma. She was glad to see me. "Vaa kannu. Walking ah?" (Good to see you dear. On a walk eh? ), the question she invariably asks every day to which I replied "aamanga patti. varein" (Yes granny. Ciao). She cuts grass for her goats every morning. Rukmani amma, now well above 60 years of age was one of the construction workers who had worked for building our home 19 years ago. I had known her ever since.

I reached the university. It was time to make a decision. I should either take a right turn into the staff quarters or the left into the university campus. It was a dilemma between catching a glimpse of a flock of gorgeous peacocks inside the quarters or a gang of charming pagal-guy-junta* playing soccer at the stadium inside the campus. In no mood to enjoy mother nature's beauty I took the left with the hopes of starting the day with a bright sight. Sheer bad luck! There was no one at the stadium.

I started walking back when I heard the sacred hymns from the Ayyapa* temple. It would be Prasada* time once the chanting gets over. Prasada is a delicious sweet made of jaggery and rice. I regretted for not having taken a bath. Ayyappa would certainly not be happy with me if I taste the prasada sans bathing. Let go!

I reached home. Sent the message i had thought of sending Sugan once I reach home.

I felt a hard pat on my shoulder. It was mum. She said something. I was not able to hear. I rubbed my eyes. She repeated,

"Sugan just called to the land line. Seems your bloody mobile is out of battery. She had tried it. She is back home after the walk and asked you to be there tomorrow at least."

Oh God! Mobile switched off-> no alarm->I have just woke up. The day had just begun sans walking. No battery in the mobile and no power at home.

Awesome !

Stay tuned for the rest of the day's activity.

suprabatham* - A holy Hindu hymn usually sung or played early in the morning.
pagal-guy-junta* - Do I have to say it refers to the MBA students :P
Ayyappa - A Hindu God
Prasada - Sacred snack distributed in Hindu temples after an auspicious ritual in the morning and evening.

N.B. My first attempt in writing something other than poetry. Looking forward to the feedback.

morning, noon and night - part 2

Enough damage to the day already being done I had no particular interest in looking forward to the weekend and besides I was darn sure I would come across other reasons to justify my statement. I got out of the bed sluggishly and folded my bed sheet. Time to brush. My search for the brush in the box ended in vain. I had left my brush upstairs yesterday. It might or might not interest you to know that I have a peculiar habit of brushing upstairs listening to my music player connected to the surround system if am not too late from the walk. I had been early yesterday so the brush was now upstairs. Hating myself for bring early from walk yesterday I climbed the stairs and brushed.

It was 8 A.M. by the time I finished brushing and I could smell mum making potato curry. My mood shifted from bad to worse. Again it is not because that I hate potato curry but that potato curry means it is chapati* for breakfast and obviously the rolling work for me. Another reason to justify that my weekend was not going to be real terrific. To hell with it!

It was time for a shower after rolling out chapatis. My misfortune was not ready to leave me alone even inside the bathroom. I forgot to turn the geyser on and ended up drenched in cold water. All right am not complaining anymore. I was ready to taste mum's potato curry when I heard my granny calling out "kaki ki annam pettava ne?" (Have you fed the crows?). My orthodox family members (or at least my mum and granny) are very particular about feeding the crows before having food in the morning. It is a common belief that our forefathers come back to our home in the form of crows. What ever ! Mum had made rice for grand pa and granny had already filled a small bowl with the rice and asked me to leave it on the terrace.

The clock struck 10 by the time I finished my breakfast. Only then did it strike me that I had to return Robin Cook's "The forgeing body" to the lending library. The incharge had called me yesterday to remind me that the due date had passed. So I took to the bus stand and got into a bus. The library was a half an hour ride from my place. I searched my handbag for the music player only to remember that I had left it back at the office yesterday. No other way to pass the time I decided to start with my so called "Rush hour ramblings" (A term I use to refer to poems I write while traveling in the rush hours) despite the fact that there was no real rush that day.

You seem to enjoy

the shades of blue

As I gently make

a mark on you - he said

your marks stick

on me like glue

for I know your

love is so true - she said

She a paper and he

a mighty pen

I know well that

I have fooled you again ;)

Phew! Done! I was sure that I could call it a day now.

I got down from the bus and reached the destination only to find that the library was closed. Damn my memory it was a Sunday wasn't it? Scorching sun was eating away the 1 milligram brain left inside my skull besindes drinking my cerebro-spinal fluid. I took the bus back to my place and started to "People watch" since this one was comparatively crowded and I was not able to get back to my rambling because I was standing.

I was completely exhausted when I reached home. Lunch time and I thoroughly enjoyed mum's Brinjal gravy with rice. Dad was home and was watching the Australia Vs Newzealand ODI and I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of darling Ross Taylor having a nice time at the crease. Good for him!

I thought the day was to end in a pleasant manner but little did I know that the worst was yet to happen.

Part 3 coming soon :)

Morning, noon and night - part 3

After drooling over Ross for sometime I went upstairs and logged into orkut. It had been a long time since I visited my home community in orkut, the "Allari Pillalam" (translates to "mischievous gang") community. It was here that I had learned to speak pure Telugu and so I owe a lot to its members. The community seemed inactive. I felt cursed.

It was 3.30 and the long awaited Man Vs Bull fight was well under way. (For those who cannot relate this to the Roger Vs Rafael Australian open finals am so sorry for your bad knowledge of tennis). I have a superstition. Every time I had watched Roger play a grand slam final he had lost it. Well, Roger had won US Open 2008 lately and I hadn't watched it since the cable operator had dumped us. Having this in mind I decided to follow the scores in the Australian open website rather than joining dad and bro who were watching downstairs. The match was balanced at 1 set each. I just could not resist and went down to see the rest of the match. As misfortune would have it Roger lost set 3.

Unable to watch any further I came back and logged into gtalk. Roger somehow managed to hold set 4 but it was cake walk for Rafael in set 5. Roger needs to come out of this "Rafa" factor if he has any hope left for reaching Pete's heights. Enough of tennis. The worst of the times had just begun. It was time to answer all bull fans. Suraj and Ram in particular and both were online.

Suraj had shown some chivalry and I highly appreciate him for not being harsh.

suraj: watchn rt???

nandhini: u bet

suraj: :P

wat to

bet

watch d last game

nandhini: :P

suraj: countdown starts

nandhini: hush ;)

suraj : 30-0

2 more minutes

1 min 45 sec

*(Roger did manage a deuce but it was Rafael's day)*

suraj: AUS OPEN 2009 CHAMP!!!!

who? roger??

nandhini: to hell with it :P

buzz off :P

All right, coming back to the bull fans. It was just this from Suraj with some more evil laughters and stuff. Thank God he did not make me feel real bad. I was so sorry I had asked him to buzz off. (He dint actually do that though :P )

It was an altogether different story with Ram, my college mate and a Rafael die hard. I am not sure which of his message made me feel pissed off initially and I had reacted in a really bad manner. But it was not nice of him to ask if Roger had won 6 Grand slams when he was 22. He shouldn't have asked such a question and certainly not to me. Again the same buzz off which he quite did. Fuel added to the already burning relation. Who cares? :P ANYTHING FOR ROGER ;) (Sorry though Ram if you happen to read this.)

Fed up with answering the bull fans I logged off and came downstairs to watch Ian Wright show in Travel and Living. I felt relieved. The day was about to end when my bro came home with an evil grin. I regretted for having teased him when Ana Ivanovic had dropped out earlier. Forgetting everything I decided to send "Good Night" messages to every one and retire to bed. The messages were getting unusually late to be sent and I flipped my phone close to go and wish granny good night.

I came back to see how many "Good night" wishes I had got in reply when disaster struck. It was the 1 st of February and my message booster had expired on the 31st of January. Had my mobile been alive this morning and had I sent a "Good morning" to Sugan alone I would have refrained myself from sending group messages. 15 INR wasted on sending messages. Icing on my super disastrous Sunday cake done.

I retired to bed with dreams of a better TOMORROW.

Benevolence bygone

She stood by the way

savoring the wind.

She was pretty 

yet brown skinned.

Her voice a 

meeky screech 

and her legs, 

fragile sticks each

 and there was

some thing odd.

She was sans clothing

stark-naked 

Oh God!

Why was she bare

despite her friends

weaving?

We live in a land

of benevolence or so

I was beleiving !?

Fly far away,

Oh my dear MYNAH.

This world is certainly 

not your savannah. 

An inspirational sacrifice

He was ushered into the
desolate domicile and
placed on the altar
I took a peep
ceasing the chat
with my lodestar

He laid still with
his upside down
his 8 pack abdomen in
diverse shades of brown

His body was torn
apart with ease
I wonder if his
soul had rested
in peace

The sinner stood
sans guilt
for his poach
As I paid my tribute
to the martyr
a Mr.Cockroach

For he had played a part
in making me wise
and I was INSPIRED
by his sacrifice


N.B. A tribute to the cockroach that was dissected 7 years ago in my skoolz biology lab for the sake of our studies

Sinned

Memories swirled in
my mind
how i had been
a part of all this
from behind

Yes,
I had brought her in
Now she suffers
I had committed a sin

Oh god ! She was
stripped naked
all her parts were
tormented !

Ultimately
she was drowned
and there ended
the hound

Tears rolled down
my cheeks, I was the
culprit in my opinion
guilty to the core
.
.
.
.
.

"Hush girl !"
My conscience intervened
"That is just an ONION
you got from the store"

Anomaly

When I say
hues of gold and
pinkish flower beds
are not as appealing as
the gloomiest of grays
or bloodiest of reds

and that
the humming of engines
at a race reminds again
of adrenalin
traveling as well
through MY veins

and when I consider
a few moments of
lighter bites
over sleepless nights
of useless fights

You have every right
to taunt,
tease
or blame
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
But am proud
for not being
yet another DAME!