Lagori

Foot on the crooked chalk line, one after another,
Wiping beads of sweat with sleeves, no bother.

Tiny hands clenching a red rubber ball,
‘Neat maar haa’, the ultimate motivational call.

‘Arrey just missed’, and much forehead slapping,
‘Eudhach asel tarr you try na’, some more snickering.

The Lagori glared at the little people, all untouched,
Small hearts, bodies and eyes, drenched in chaos!

‘Tey bagh, the other team got their Yokozuna’,
‘She will maaro a big kick! Aata dhaava!’

Our big tower came, crashing down with a groan;
And as the floors got strewn everywhere,
We dashed to gather our seven stones.

Sikkim walee chai

And how I remember chaar-so-teen,
Just a king, with many a queen.

And how the blue sofa was abused,
For love, for rest, to seat the muse.

And how the cracks in the wall weren’t just a metaphor,
Telling the story of doom, from long before.

And how the music room was the getaway of all time,
For strings, tears, for Neal Schon put to rhyme.

And how blistered fingers and sambhaji were the order of the day,
Not a thought of retreat, to change our way.

And how Pallavi was the perfect wife,
In times of flood and other such strife.

And how we were the weakest link,
Love’s labor lost, all etched in ink.

And how Kundera told our tale,
Anger and desperation, hung out for sale.

And how chaar-so-teen saw so much,
Bundled with love, loaded with lust.

…

But then I added one and a half of sugar, instead of two,
Surprisingly forgot I used to make it for you.

Wondrous Wanderous

My mind is a melting pot of thoughts.
Much like Paris.
Only, less prettier.
With lesser bread.
And fewer cobblestones.
But with a lot more sunshine.
And more color.
More sights, smells, tongues and sounds.
And just as wander-ous.

The small goblin with the big ears listened...

And learned...

That the past was destiny,

The future will be free will,

And the present is most utterly joyous.

... And awesome!*

* Then the goblin left work really early. Most utterly awesome, indeed. Theory proved.

The cost of being loud and abrasive...

Men who want to be loud and abrasive must realize that being loud and abrasive comes at a price!

Case in point: Big guy at workplace being loud and abrasive. As much as this might be his true self on a normal day, what he also is on a normal day is, angry, unhealthy and fat. Now I don’t hold that against him. Neither do I expect him to look like Michelangelo’s David or anything. But the tight t-shirts with the pot belly, the diamond ear stud and the crazy 'I-can’t-wait-to-get-my-hands-on-you-mofo’ look makes you wonder about the workings of his mind! Apart from that, he's got the gait of the don who hides in the stone walls of Mumbai's Dagdi Chawl. And I suspect that he carries a dagger in his lap top case as well.

Now, my question is, if you have all of these other beautiful things going for you (or not, depending on which way you look at it), why are you making your vocal cords go that extra mile?

With no intention of being offensive (really really!), why would someone want to draw attention to their very attractive selves by screaming … so loud, for the smallest of things, in a corporate environment?

The last time I checked, people like this were working towards being more acceptable. Rethinking, reworking and rewiring the things that weren’t in their control. Now this, this is just in the complete opposite direction!

Obersvation: Being loud and abrasive comes at a price, like most things.
A price that involves looking good or having a sense of humor or possessing some kind of a talent (one that's vastly acceptable*) or having some character (also one that is vastly acceptable) and I’m sure a host of other things that I'm not listing it out right now.

And before you think it, this isn’t my bias towards pretty people.
This is my inference that pretty boys who might be screaming just might be easier to tolerate than not so pretty guys who are screaming!

* No! Making PowerPoint presentations is not a skill.

Never mind the reasons…

When you say ‘Yes’ and then follow it up with a ‘But’ it means ‘NO’

You will never know where I stray when you play that song...

Perhaps a balcony, a cab or a house in a tree.
Or perhaps that night, some yellow light and a table for three.