Showing posts with label Purple Riot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purple Riot. Show all posts

Thursday, January 09, 2020


You were a springtime in this uneventful life, 
Where your promises filled this heart daily, 
Your thoughts played like a chorus in a song, '
And in those days, you were like a demigod. 

When you reach out with your tender words, 
When you return to this life with your bounce, 
I forget that once your absence left me dead, 
And I celebrate your homecoming with delight. 

My fears are about what I'll do if you go away, 
For a promising life had collapsed in a day, 
When you and I parted our lives eons ago, 
To leave behind a life of longing and strife. 

You bring new thoughts and dreams to cherish
Again I speak of us as if we are together again.



My earworm, you never stop in my head;
Time has brought so many changes around
The seasons have changed all on a sudden
With your mellow voice of a purple riot.

We were two wanderers in these lands;
With broken fragile dreams of self;
Outwardly rash and brisk and quiet,
With only smiles to speak of our silences.

The spheres of our beings rarely collide,
For they might change our fortunes fully
To cure one earworm, it sure needs another,
But this is no ordinary love-song, I wonder.

You are my perfect earworm ever possible
One that plays from morning till midnight.

Monday, December 23, 2019


Every time I put henna on my hands I hum that song
Where I write your name on the palm of my hand,
Hidden in the intricate shapes, curves and designs
The story of the day we met or the day we spoke.

We have walked countless times around the fire
We have uttered so many different sacred chants
Of holding a bond so close just by keeping it safe
Deeply tied to the sense of our sacred silences.

We have celebrated in rhymes, absences felt,
The emotions that run wild and the colours
We have sang of the endless days we wandered
Listlessly, aimlessly and perfectly in silence.

Yet when I put mehndi on these hands of mine,
You smell them, as if it’s our first time together.


You are the sprout that demands my pelting rain of affection, my tiny green whose footsteps fill me with pride with words that come right from the heart.

You are my sprout that loves everything green and creeps over all these broken walls of old houses and old loves and broken dreams.

You are my sprout that cuts through words, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, born out of a green dream of having a name to leave behind.

Thursday, December 19, 2019

Purple Riot

Image result for hands holding
The purple riot began
And took root slowly.

Who would've thought
Who would've known

In the rear view mirror
It looks like spring again

It's snowing every morn
And melting by evening.

The beauty that returned
The songs that don't cease

One day sitting nearby
Feeling the full purple riot

The deep desire in your eyes
That sang to me whole night

The hand that almost reached
The purple riot in your heart.

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Beatrice and Virgil

Yann Martel's novel Beatrice and Virgil is an allegory that represents the Holocaust using animal characters. The novel is about writer's block and has the character of the writer Henry L'Hote talking about his writing experiences and also of his encounter with a taxidermist called Henry. This metafictional novel has it all in terms of its several inserted genres including a play, an essay, a brochure, a short story, extracts from Flaubert's short story "The Legend of Saint Julian Hospitator" , a poem in the form of a list and a set of imaginary situations called Games for Gustav. These inserted genres were written by the taxidermist Henry and later recreated by the writer Henry while on the hospital bed after being stabbed by the taxidermist Henry.

Just as in Life of Pi, Martel manages to create more than one dimension of the story and the story flits back between the story of animal extinction and that of the horrible massacre of the Jews during the Holocaust. Martel, through the voice of the writer Henry remembers the six million Jews who were killed during this historical event of genocide. As survivor testimonies show those who survived were no better than those who perished. Martel brings in echoes of several survivor testimonies including that of Primo Levi.

The animal characters Beatrice and Virgil are named after the poet Dante's guides through heaven and hell in The Divine Comedy, the medieval allegory about the state of the soul. From the innumerable allusions to several allegories, it can be deduced that the allegorical form was deliberately chosen by Martel. The allegory commonly spoke of the state of the soul and also gave lessons about humanity's place in the whole scheme of things. Here, Martel brings in an allegory that can be read in both ways and due to the metafictional nature of the novel, there are clues as to read the allegory in terms of animal slaughter and racial purification. Using this allegory, Martel blurs the line between cruelty to animals and cruelty to fellow-beings, showing a belief in the unity of all beings in the universe and an exhortation to live and let live.

Tuesday, November 26, 2019


Wasted by anguish
she would be lying on her bed of loneliness
drawing herself together on one side, 
seeming like the last sliver
of the waning moon on the eastern horizon. 
By my side her nights flew by
On winged moments in rapture's fullness; 
now they drag on, heavy with burning tears.
( Meghtadutam, Kalidasa)

May be it was the shape of his beloved's favourite beast
Bent down to butt a riverbed that inspired him to poesy.
May be it was the memory of his lover's sandalwood body
Or the grief of separation from her that made him sing so. 

Whatever the reason might have been for him to compose,
He thought of her long hair without adornments or flowers
Drawn together in a single sweep in the long absent months,
He sang this musical erotic message promising rejuvenation.

He thought of her beauty that made him err in his daily duties,
The early hours of the morning when he spent hours with her, 
Which he didn't want to forsake and plucked the holy lotuses,
Which he did before time just to get punished for one long year. 

When the rainclouds burst on her, he wants her to see his love
All written in the eight months of longing, just to be with her!

Pic Courtesy: Blog at wordpress

Monday, November 11, 2019


It’s raining heavily this evening
But there alights a golden glow;
On the tall trees of the campus,
The fox’s wedding of the lore.

A sight enough to lift the chill,
We stand in the corridor amazed;
While a horde of boys cackle
To show who’s boss around here.

The rain looks drawn like lines,
Straight by a measured hand;
When the glow disappears sudden
We get back to work and chatter.

A cold long rainy evening it was
Made warm with our smiles.

Good Fortune

Good Fortune

Good fortune

There was no good luck on my cards today
Not that I care much for being what I am
But my fortune was not so good enough
Without a smile to lighten my weary day.

Not that I am what you want me to be
Not that I do what you really want me to
I have always ran away yet lost miserably
For I am like a lion in a cage of the past.

A lion that the people watch and observe
Throwing bits and pieces on my tiring day
Fighting over my ownership and knowledge
With records of all my mistakes, past. 

Yet when I look at where you always sit
A stupid grin spreads across my sad face. 


You and I were the best together
Those who spoke without  words.

We could hear each thought
And read the hurt whenever.

So alike in nature that each
Would suffer than confess love.

One day of absence was like eons,
One look enough to warm a day.

The good things were too good,
The bad never even known.

There were no barriers to climb,
Only our reticence to love.

There was only love and life,
With the life-spirit to guide us.

There was harmony and peace,
Like the blend of river and sea.

Magic like fire and water,
Miracle of the best possible life.

Still we said no magical words that turned
The disparate you and me into us.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

You and I

You are an innocent who wears his heart on his sleeve in a world full of lies. You read a signal wrong and caused this accident of love to bloom in your heart. I am the one who knows and bears the hurts from those seething with anger, the ones who really love you and care for you. I was like a sleepwalker till you made me see what you wanted me to see. 

Your pain makes me cringe and makes me feel miserable about my carelessness.Though I broke your heart and watched you crumble, I know that it's for your own good. Yet the worlds that we inhabit will be broken down if ever our words meet. Sometimes, I wish that you will open your eyes and see me for what I really am, not what you think me for: no goddess but just an ordinary woman.

For us

Not wrapped in glitzy sheets
Nor given with graceful words
A gift casually made out of 
A used personal belonging

The thought behind the gift
Were purple hearts drawn
And scrawled on pages that
Looked like reminders

You could have pinned it 
And showed it with pride
Than make purple hearts
And make others laugh

The deep red of a riot
Soul colour of a shade.

Friday, November 08, 2019


There were forgotten words and broken promises;
Hues matched, songs played and dreams shared
From a springtime of love in another sacred space
That comes back in full riot in your shining eyes.

A world that was lost for not being a Stepford,
With long hair, obedience or even a loyal heart,
A world that was built upon years of dreams
That this elemental water had lost in time.

In the meantime, our definitions have changed;
From two strangers lost in a strange dream;
Obeying rules and breaking no boundaries,
Going from day to day without any joys.

With you, I am a sun that needs to rise and shine,
That meets your mischief with a matching hue.


You call yourself a strong woman while you are as human as we all are: strengths, weaknesses, mischief and complete dependence on your significant other. But day by day, you feed on our frailties and paint yourself strong and independent.

In your eyes, I see myself as being labelled messy, irresponsible and different yet I know that it’s the same longing to escape this maze of life that’s in your heart as well as in mine. But at times, I laugh when I see that you are too scared to walk alone in the dark; while I have lost even my longing to lean against a loving shoulder. 

Tuesday, November 05, 2019


For the one who never stops playing in my head;
Though time has brought so many changes around,
Though the seasons have changed all on a sudden-
You have stayed with me like a persistent song.

Once we were two wanderers in the strange lands;
Taking turns at the dreamer and the wanderer,
With fragile selves, outwardly rash and quiet,
With our naughty smiles that came from silences.

Now, the years have gone so by and your memory
Plays in my being like a soulful monsoon melody;
To cure one earworm, it sure needs another one,
You are no ordinary love-song,but one for life.

You are my all perfect earworm ever possible
That goes on playing from morning till midnight.


You are my want, my need, my desire, my everything,
My one addiction that I never want to give up ever,
May be time- the years, the months and the days-
Might bring about a change in this feeling for you.

But I want you to know that after all these years,
I want yours to be the shoulder where I return to
With the broken scattered pieces to be held close,
And put together with a few words of consolation.

I want yours to be the eyes that hold my bold gaze,
To give in without holding anything back from me;
I want yours to be lips that greet me in surprise
To give ecstasy when most desired without saying so.

While you and I enjoy our days of mutual togetherness,
I want your love to be the kind that stays around forever.

Saturday, November 02, 2019


In many shades, the choices abound;
So tempting to the surprised buyer's mind.
In earthen shades, mud brown or tan,
Or in tints of the ocean, blue and green. 

The choices are too many, each unique
Be it the drape of emerald or turquoise;
The hues of the skies: rainy, cloudy,
Bright, grey or shades of the twilight. 

The mystic magic of the silver raindrops
The pure red on the bride's forehead,
All before me in the form of these drapes
That each look matchless and perfect. 

From the heap before me, I choose a hue
To bring a wordless wonder on your face.

Purple Riot

This blog is temporarily withdrawn. You can however buy this e-book purple riot from amazon. 'One customer has reviewed the book:

"I liked this collection while reading it but I am not going back to it again.
The poetry lines are subtle, well-balanced and simple. The main themes are on love, women and life in general."

I wonder why the reader felt that I like women..:-)