Balancing a Pen on the Index Finger

Well.. Its been quite a while that I wrote something on this wall. So, thought of just scribbling in something just like that.. :-)

Balancing a pen
on the index finger,
Tossing a tennis ball
up and down,
Tapping my feet
onto the ground,
Drumming the table
with nimble fingers,
Eyes fixated
elsewhere nowhere,
Sitting on stair,
Playing with hair,
Lying on belly
in my messed-up lair,
Sunk in a pillow
aloof unaware,
Resting my chin
on my hands,
Smiling to faraway
rainbow bands,
Strolling aimlessly
hands in pockets,
Singing humming,
Hand waving rockets,

These are few things
that i do
Dear..dear..poem
when i think about u

Romeo goes to PhD

In the infinite dimensional
space of love
the Romeo finds it hard
to spot the coordinate
of his relationship
with Juliet. And
to add to this fuzz
the coordinate keeps moving
on an unknown loci
the equation of which
does not seem to follow
any rational, real or
complex valued function.

My dear Romoeo
said the Advisor
A pure random function
that is love
is far more intractable
than any of the pseudo-randoms
that you solved last Fall.

I see, but Professor
I need to graduate.
How should I proceed.

Try Machine Learning
We might learn the love
if we can't derive it.

Why dont you
research it for
our next meeting.

The Real Moon Mystery

What is reality ? Is it an existence... or just a myth ? We took a stroll along the Ganges in search of some clue...
(Special thanks to David Lean's acclaimed movie, A Passage to India, originally a great novel by E M Foster, for leading us to the holy river in our quest.. )

Ever seen the moon
in the Ganges, my dear?
Its not round
but spreads open
far from the horizon
across the rippling
dark blue waters,
the holy flow,
so calm and quiet.
Or is it ?

The sage by the river
tells us in whispers,
these waters have
a world inside,
a dwelling, it
so quietly hides.
"The people of that land
were once a people
like you and me.
They walked these sands,
drank this water
saw that moon,
like you and me.
Now they are dead,
their bodies left
to this sacred river
which shelters them
forever in its bosom,
all their after-lives.
Hail the Holy Ganges ! "

The old boatman
doesnot agree.
"They aren't
the after-lives.
We are.
We are the ones
who once lived
and now are dead.
Do you see the
moon in the Ganges ?
Thats the real one, my sons.
The one above you
is a mere reflection.
Hail the Holy Ganges ! "

sunday musings

hi there..my gentle reader :-)
well...again, another sunny afternoon in mountainview.. they rightly say that you can never complaint about the weather here. Its just the right kind for all.. i mean no one can hate it.... you experience a little of all sorts during different times of the day..a little cloudy and wintery in the morning... more of the sunny kind during afternoons.. cool breezy evenings and then windy nights with golden views of moon...the best thing is as i said that theres a little of every kind in the mix..i guess any kind of extremity be it hot,cold or sun in the weather is what we would have been uncomfortable with had it been that way...anywaz...so the big thing for today was that i again went for a hiking escapade..more daring than the previous ones...a continuous walk for about 16 miles...this time we really went up to the mountains that i used to see from my office and apptmt... last time i tried that i had to come back from the foothills... and also sprained my ankle in the effort.. today it was more strenous than that.. but a lot exciting too.. only i hope that my ankle remains healthy :-) ... ok i guess i really need a nap... see u back... i still have to write that review on Fountainhead, i remember..... let me tell you it would be a lot different from what i wrote when i had read it midway... will write it in the coming days.... do check it... see u and have a good sunday...bye..

--12 August 07, Mountain View, California

Six Faces of Hope

A tribute to millions of school-going children in villages across India . They are the force that is pushing education to the most elusive parts of our country.

Hope was what
I saw in their eyes.
Six little children
on a dusty rural street,
in soiled school uniforms,
all looking up
to that roaring plane,
and shrieking in chorus
to hold that boom.
They yell, they shout
their whole breath out
until that din
of the flight dies out.
And then they chuckle,
flitter and flutter,
dance, sing , sway
their win away.

Held then they,
their hand in hand
and off they gallop
in sync and in rhyme
like kings of some time.
They spread, they close,
they form a line
they rise, they bow
they march align.
Six little stars
how bright they shone
as they took a walk
thru the sky they own.

Raised my camera
to make a click
as they cruised
unseen unhit,
until the sound
of the snap came by.
They turn at once,
they see at once,
trifle and shuffle,
then came to me.
Girls in blushes,
Boys in cheers,
Six little faces
staring at me.
Hesitant but smiling,
I look into their eyes.
And hope was what
smiled back at me.

saturday musings..

Another nice, sunny, windy and surely a lazy afternoon ..here at Mountainview. I am still limping as my left foot still aches from a hiking escapade i tried last weekend. Hence, am grounded today. Want to write something or do I?... want to read something rather. By the way, I am reading Ayn Rand's 'Foutainhead' these days. The book starts off very well, seems promising, captivating, interesting in the beginning. As I reach the middle chapters, I find it a little unnecessarily verbose. And also somewhat unreasonable. Cause there appear to be some self-contrdictions in the way that Ms. Rand handles characters like Ellsworth Toohey. Mr. Toohey justs behaves so totally different and so all of a sudden in the middle chapters from the way he was introduced to us by the author herself in the beginning chapters. Surely, it may be that I am jumping on to conclusions... i.e there may be some interesting truth in the later chapters yet to be unfolded which explain this awkward behavior.. So, yah, I agree its not justified to comment on the book before reading it. I was just commenting on whatever picture I have in my mind today. And now that I have committed this sin of commenting on it mid-way, I shall have to make-up for it by giving a review once I am through with the book in toto. Well I guess thats it for today.. see u around.. :-)

Memoirs of a Geisha...

An idle weekend made me watch 'Memoirs of a Geisha' among other movies. The last scene of the reunion of the Geisha and the Chairman was particularly moving. Also, its a kind of scene where the action stops and the viewer gets some time to think and reflect from a distance. Here I make an attempt to capture that moment in rhyme. I suggest you watch the movie especially the last scenes, may be some of the things written here would make sense then.

The Time ...

it flies like dead leaves
in the breeze at the eve
it drops like a tear
from the eyes in grief
it warms like a kiss
on the lips in reprieve

its the time that comes
when the storms abate
its late i know
but its not too late