The Kon-Tiki blog

Arbit! totally arbit!

Name: Doh

"The rumors of my death are exaggerated" -Twain

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Thank you

For being every moment in my life
For being every life I could have lived
For being every sigh that I could have breathed
For being every dream that I could have seen

Today I'm grateful for so many things
So many things that could have been shattered
So many things that could’ve been mended
So many things that we could‘ve talked about


Let me love you ..let me love you
Over and over again .. in many ways
Like the rainbow.. they say its 7 colors
Let me love you.. in every hue

Let me in.. let me in..to your heart
In to your darkest secrets .. into
Your deepest thoughts...into
Your lowest moments

And in those moments.. let me draw you
A rainbow.. a rainbow that is for you and
For you only.. in manifold colors
One each for the three creases on your neck

One each for the eyebrow that says ..you dare ?
One each for that eye that says ..you may ..
One each for the smile that chides
One each for the smile that hides

One more night.. one more night
Give me one more night of loving
One more perfect night and we would play games
Of who would blink first saying “ I love you”

Thursday, June 01, 2006

pehchaan ...

Pehchaan
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Apni kai ,apni mehbooba
Apni aashiqi apna wajood
Apna tohfa,apna kafan
Apna desh, apna watan

Oodhni mein ek bacche ki maut
Oodhni mein ik shaadi ka khauff
Oodhni mein ek wajood ki maut
Oodhni mein … meri maut

Jhaank kar dekho ek jhalki
Khwabon ka ek surkh jhoola
Goliyon se rangeen…. Laal
Ek do teen .. chunte huye

Goliyan chunti hui
Aur unki afsos ka kya
Kahan tak jayengi
Agar koi nahin mila to

Rangeen galiyon ka hijaab
Ki tehelte hue lamho ka hisaab
Ek do teen keh kar ,nikal kar
Khamoshi ka hisaab pooch kar

Goliyaan cheer kar kehti hai
Poochti hai kya yeh jaan hai
Ki agar khoon ka hisaab hai
To jaanch kar lo, jaanch kar lo

Khoon dekh lo, mera khoon dekh lo
Laal hai ,agar nahin hai to mussalman hoga
Agar nahin hai to hindu hoga
Magar jo bhi hai Laal hoga

Behta hua sarphiron ke sar se
Ik akhshar banata hua
Om hoga ? mera naam hoga ?
Junoon hoga ? mera desh hoga?

Friday, May 26, 2006

turning 30...

There are different theories about getting old. One is that you start accepting things for what they are .. as in grey hair and wrinkles around. Just yesterday I was young.. And believe me… in thought !
And then I gave up..
I was at this friend’s place in Georgia and we were having a couple of beers and a discussion
A policeman walks in and is almost apologetic as he watches us… we don’t have guns…we don’t have dope…we just have a couple of beers. We are enjoying john fogerty’s “have you ever seen the rain? “ This guy almost requests me to hold my hands behind my head and wraps them up with tie wrap …the funniest thought resonates through my head as he ties orange colored fiber optic cables with a snap … I’m an orange fiber optic cable… if we are not the world that we define…or is defined to us .. What are we? I start to think what would life be if I were an orange cable?
Of course that is stupid and I cannot say it aloud cos it can only be construed as dope induced hallucination… cannot 1984 my thoughts now, though can I?

Of course that is stupid and I cannot say it aloud cos it can only be construed as dope induced hallucination… cannot 1984 my thoughts now, though can I?

I was talking about getting old now wasn’t I?
Decided to throw a stone “as far as we could get to ..types” …just to measure some semblance of strength in these aching bones.
I build up a mask … I want to go party
Lights on and off… in different colors… the great thing about parties …especially dark ones is that you only glimpse eyes
.. I mean minus the scantily clad bodies of course… the eyes…they shine through… like a thousand cats … and a thousand bulbs. It’s a party all right! Sometimes I wish Picasso had painted that …a thousand shining eyes in a party and had called it party… I would have paid for a pirated copy (Unto a 100 bucks …yes I have taste!) .. just for a lot of green lit bulbs  and nine lives for each … Oh what a web we weave , when we first try to deceive ..

So all of this was not in prison… some of it had been brewing for some time now … I decided I had reached a mid-life crisis when I decided to get a tattoo … there is a finality abt these things … like getting a tattoo … there’s not much you can do abt a decision like that except say “NO don’t do it, its permanent “.and that’s just reinforcement of why im doing it in the first place… So decisions can be funny except when you’re traveling. They take on different contexts.

You can tell I’m running away…cant you?
For rehab they showed us a movie marathon… born on the fourth of July and I saw that and I wanted to tell the stories that I knew… born on the 28th of august … born on the 21st of May …everyday a different battle .. not for a nation .. dulce et decorum est … but for me …selfishly enough for me

They showed us American history X for black history month… sometimes the angst is as great as the pain… and today I react with equanimity when yesterday it would have been all abt organizing pals and folks and get says and views and points of them and post them in scarlet and look for an anthem

There’s a subtle difference between the mega flood and the slow erosion…and it’s not just about the time … its about the sensitivity that’s associated with the act of bringing abt the change …
There’s a premium on human leadership …. Happiness in evolution is extinct, and to bring to it definition and method, is a challenging take … just cos of the mere fact that tomorrow I would want to remembered as a “” ( choice here)

There’s something special about turning thirty

There’s something special in the sense that you want to talk to everybody in your past
You exhume ghosts if you have to … you truly want to move on.
Yet you want to brush with the same toothbrush… in a sane world there are rare moments of insanity and let this be mine
Worn toothbrush with colors faded to medium and low.
Somebody asks me “Am I happy?”
And I truly cannot answer that … cos im confused
I do not know if im happy or im sad… these are the thirties moments when im trying to say grand things
And in all honesty ive never been as lost as im now
There are solid moments though when I won the drawing competition in school … there are moments of inspiration
There are moments of hope
The 30s are as confused as can be
There is an urge to listen to ballads/ to exercise/ to reduce cholsesterol/ to listen to baba ramdev / to do yoga
There are so many struggles in an empty home… and then there the M word 

I’m searching for a word for the past hour …
Yes its exquisite … the pain is exquisite
There is no other word to describe it …sometimes there is happiness in just describing pain …aimless pain… just dull
You know pointless dull pain… Exquisite is the word …

It’s been a loud day … getting arrested for no reason at all told me why life was beautiful … ESP when its free …when im free to make my own mistakes
To own them to adopt them to nurture them through the course of my life … like my own children … these are my mistakes.. There is some honor in repentance …when you give it a chance …when you give it a second life which answers “What if ?” And maybe all we look for is finality at 30 ..and resurrection
Like how could it be different ?
For the next 30 or so ?

Then there was the yoga guru or as I called him the the “Faker”
The Faker
The truth is that divinity will simply test your exhaustion. there has got to be another expln of sumfin w.r.t the whole
There is truth or in our modern times there is math … intuition well and truly is substituted by probability !
And there is finally a way to model uncertainity ~
Its called To be continued 

and hope … well!
“So long and thanks for all the fish!”

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Mac wonders!

Mac-kenna’s GaWW-ld-yawn headlines

How abt this for a “daily-cuppa-conspi-racy-theory” ?

“the “AlQ” have sponsored the recent Judas studies and the Dan Brown Myths .. “ …

You know who AlQ is of curse?
The alQ ..
The alQqwot?
The alQwhen?
And the alQhoe ? ( 40 of them !)

The access of eveel according to Mac expostulating on the theories of the unbound
The deveel had a new name in kolkatta …for you see the city had been Hyd (Haiyed…in suddern enuff contexts) … in ways more than one

Reee-Sir-vashya-yawn ( deja BOO!) … Mac found herself in “Dire straits” and gyrating to a pirated copy too …
Gosh this was too much… the Mac din’t stand a chawnce …even in sexy Scottish half –skirts ( accentuate the letter that u want)

Sir Sir ,,, it please-ded

50% istoo muchos duncha think ? ..
Aaargh …here we go again ..the national ins-tit-toot of the yeah-man-cippayshun

Mac thought that this sort of language was totally uncalled for and proceeded to
Talk to the ex-el-capitan seated next to her … for now you see … in the protocol of the
Celebs unknown .. the one “Later” is the celeb …and thus the Mac by sheer virtue of UN-punctuality
Deserved what she did … which is to say a sermon .. from the celeb called “Unknown”

“First.. things you need to know abt me “
Do you feel lucky .. ppp ,
And “Mr President , (twist and turn) .. !! ( ok ..exclamation!)


Conclusion being that Harrison ford was probably a “Supersizeme” Clint! … err

The Mac is finally home …she can see the meaning of dubbulspit letters where they are in-tern-ded.

….Billy Plays the piano like a carnival”

She can kill with a smile and she can wound
With her eyes ,
and she can ruin yer faith
with Her casual lies
And she only reveals
What she wants you to see
She Hides like a child
But she’s always THE woman to me….

This was the sound anthem of the carpet making industry that the Mac was witnessing and then the endless expanse that greeted her eyes … to “proverbially” roll and plunder … for the chicken had really GOT to cross the “whatever” …whatever the “whatever” was made of ! ..sigh…and armed with the CGTTs the answers suddenly became clear ….

First off Mac needed a haircut and a saffron overhaul… which is to say we were planning on being televised… televised and protesting …
/* deja-BOO --- also known as affectionate feelings for the “DCE…err of E”
As in the “Delhi college of E … err Engg” … for like most of us .. and Mac I presume in saying so … the sordid saga of having it “made”…, really ended with the entrance exam .. Mac distinctly remembers our Princi ( PeeBeySharma) mouthing something in Sanskrit ( just to drive in the fact that mebbe 15 mins more wasn’t sucha bad deal ) ..how abt "Loser schols" ? " */

And then Something inside of me snapped and the Mac said well “U chose it “ … and the Mac thot if it was a fair statement… and I think of the remainder of the song


She takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She’s ahead of her times
Awww she never gives out and
She never gives in
She JUST changes her mind …..


The Mac is still dealing with uncertainties …what if ? what if ???

http://kon-tiki.blogspot.com/2005/01/ouch-baby-very-ouch.html
http://kon-tiki.blogspot.com/2005/04/return-of-mac.html
http://kon-tiki.blogspot.com/2005/04/mac-and-catterpillahs.html
http://kon-tiki.blogspot.com/2005/05/mac-and-parallel-universes.html







ps --- prev edi-shuns! @

Friday, March 17, 2006

Who is this woman really ?

nothing to say abt the confidence level in publishing this ... insecurities persist ... because so many ppl i know read this blog..

Who is this woman really ?
---------------------------------------
“I don’t know her” , “She’s just a headline, it’s a sad story , but I don’t know her… I feel sorry for her though”
“Wow strange things happen in (place X) …Are they really that primitive? ,They burnt the bride…” ( a shake of the head, a minute or two of pondering as to what can be done in “That place” to educate people ), female infanticide (simple …just ban the gender determination process).., “yaar,middle class values don’t even allow you the luxury of talking to a girl , let alone tease .. or rather eve-tease her..HAHAHAHA “ , a different reality , a different place , a different time , these things don’t happen to me or to people “important “ to me, in fact pull some semantic jugglery laced with psycho terms on me and you might even convince me that these things were horrendous statistics that happened in “Amrika” where society was decadent and “westernized”.. I’m insulated, I’m the “successful” professional with an extremely proud mother, a happily married sister, a proud father.

Or rather was …. That was my reality till a week back.

My reality today is a mother who refuses to talk to me about this topic.

My reality today is a sister who teaches in a school and tells me sympathetically “ Tujhe yaad hai us time jab maine bob cut chor kar decide kiya ki mujhe long hair chahiye aur main do chotiyan rakhungi? Tuhje pata hai , college final year tak maine birthday pe mummy se ek suit ka kapda maanga hai aur ek jean … mere paas KV ( she now teaches in kendriya vidyalaya) se pehle tak teen jean they jo fit hote they ..Woh na main ghar pe pehenti thi aur dilli haat jaane ke liye suit pehenti thi… ” … a question, which furiously invades my blood with anger asking “Kaun haramzaada tha?” … she does not reply…and I know who the blame falls upon.. my adrenalin surge is exhausted as she recounts incident after incident…

My reality today is a bunch of close friends who hate me for asking these questions.. for my seeming ignorance… for in my subconscious (excuse the psychological term) .. I always knew … and why did I not know ? I don’t know .. and today on the basis of that ignorance I’m guilty…

She says , “You ask me today , why am I cold suddenly , why I am stiff ?”
“Maybe I know” , I reply .. maybe now I know …
no you don’t and you never will, no you will never know what it is to create your own little prison and hope that nobody steps inside it … no , you will never know what it means to close the doors , you’ll never know…
Some scars you know never go away ”
And maybe I never will understand … that is my reality today.

An analogy…

I’m 8 years old (this was on April fool’s day ..so I guess this makes me running 9 ) and I’m extremely thirsty ( We’ve watched a gumnaam/mahal marathon ) and I have to walk the long dark corridor all alone and I'm scared shitless so I start singing some song out aloud, real loud .. the echoes of my own voice keeping me company through the long journey through the corridors, such that in spite of me and my fears, the sound of the water gushing through the tap was a welcome respite… I carry the bottle back with me .. tossing it and playing with it all along till the journey back to the bed was complete… when I carelessly toss the bottle aside …

now play those fears up and imagine you’re the bottle… somebody invades the veil of darkness you’ve shrouded yourself with…

Who is this woman I ask ??
Who is She ?

I was 29 ( after having waited for 6 years for your father to come back) ,
We settled in nanakpura,south delhi
Your papa said everything was good in terms of location.. good… good!
They used to play cricket in the square (dilli term = sker) … college going boys … tor monot aase jimmy ? (do you remember jimmy?)
…and I say
“Yes!”..
although I don’t .. most of what follows and I curse..
She’s angry now….
“aamar ghoror khidki-e kele bhangise baare bare?”
( Why are they breaking our flat-windows again and again?” )
“Prothomote tok kele matisile khelibole? Toi tu ekdum shoru lora aasili…
( Why would they call you first to play …you were too young to play ) …

She’s crying now
“Eta holi-te shehenti koi sile je eskeror function organize korise …aru moi bhoyote tok pothiyaye dilu mithai loi tor hathot ..aru shehenti tok ekdum dhulai di pelai pothiyayese..jeneke moi aasilu”
On one holi they organised a holi function.. and I was scared so I sent you with sweets in your hands.. and they just drenched you mercilessly .. like it was me”, it was my fault
the post script said.

“Moi aru tor papa tok lobole goisu ..toi hathot gujiyar plate tu loi ghuri aahiso,ekdom bhiga bhiga “
I and your dad went to get you back ..you came back with the gujiya plate in your hand, ekdom bhiga bhiga…


Honestly I don’t remember.. but I think I can fathom what she went through.. blaming herself for everything. This is the woman… talking after all…

blanknoiseproject.blogspot.com

She's talking after all ..
To ME ...

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Hisaab!

meri mehnat! :)
--------------

Neher ek gandi si ,leherti hui
Phir bhi saans leti hui
Behekti hui, ki zeher hai ragon mein
Roti hui , apne hi ghum ko ikattha karti hui
Ek din , ek din achanak
Apne aap se mukarti hui

Ek fakira bola sun, sun ek bar phir
Ek ,do phir teen ghum ka hisaab
Apne hi ghum mein , sharmaatey
Apne naseeb ka hijaab...


PS - atrakasya ..still working on the devanagri script sw ..would be glad to get some hints ..
PPS -- writing in hindi is fun .... :)

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Kuch Pal

Kuch pal
--------------


Kuch khamosh se tanhai ke pal
Kuch achambhe mein dekhte huye pal
Kuch shor mein khoe huye pal
Kuch rag mein dukhte huye pal

Yaadon ke daiyron mein, poochte
Sharmaate huye kuch pal
Kahin door se, Phir achanak!
Darwaze par khatkhatate huye pal

Oonchaiyon se chaundhiyate huye kuch pal
Aasmaan ko choomte huye kuch pal
Kuch pal mehekte hue shabnam se
Kuch pal chamakte hue aansuwon se

Ek unkahi dastaan ke kuch pal
Kuch jaagte kuch sote huye pal
Kuch suljhaate kuch ithlaate huye pal
Teri meri kahani ke yeh pal

Yeh pal kuch takraate kuch behekte
Kuch todte kuch jodte huye yeh pal
Shrinkhalaon ki kadi yeh pal
Sambhav asambhav kehte huye yeh pal

Sachai ke, kuch abhinay ke pal
jharnon se, nadiyon se kuch pal
pathar si zindagi se takra kar
sagar mein bikharte huye kuch pal



My maiden attempt at hindi poetry! :) inspired by my fellow poets at
www.dudseascrawls.com

Do dissect ..for one i know it sounds too lyrical ! :(