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Poet On a Motorbike...

Welcome to a world of pleasure and relaxation... a literary art gallery which aims to engage ones spirit....


Sunday, 24 April 2011

Broken Records


Broken records

It’s just another day
The radio plays the somber song,
Times a stand still
The dices roll eight

There she is, she doesn’t have a name.
He’s just another face.  

She comes to him, her heart broken
Her life faded, the tunes broken
He’s a lost sailor, an estranged brute.
A crooked visage, an empty soul

He sees her vigor
 The glimmer in her eyes
They mend the broken paths
Torn are her clothes,
Dwindled away has her smile
He says, it doesn’t matter

They dance,
To the broken record
With a harmony so unheard of
It’s beautiful..
                                                                                                                     For that special someone
Rags



Monday, 31 January 2011

The Clown


He smiles, the mysterious man,
Tremors of waves crash deep inside
His face covered in black and white.

The joy reaps around
Mysterious cries spawn fairy-tales
They come in need,
They come in despair
To the man who makes them laugh

He smiles, the mysterious man,
Tremors of waves crash deep inside
His face covered in grey and white
Buried in have all his sorrows
Insanity that serves his masquerade
The somber song that plays within
So numb to the rest.

He cries, the mysterious man
Tears that vanish in the rain
Inspired by “Mar adentro”
Rags


Monday, 24 January 2011

I could be your......


Sways you, does her plastic smile
Velvet eyes that hypnotize you
Run away with her, you do
Only to be stranded ashore.

A dance into your heart, she does
Folded up you like a paper cup, has she
She leaves you for a broken guitar
The kaput melody did she crave for?

A puppet in her burgeoning fingers, is you
She plays you for a fool, does she?
Unimaginative and blind she’s left you
She smiles and off you go chasing again. Oh you do …

Inspired by White town – Your woman
Rags 


Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Dreams


Wings to fly, I could do without
Without roads to unravel, I could go on
Without the green plains, I would persist
Without dreams, where would I begin

They’d haunt me, the violet skies
The bitter cold would torture me
The darkness could embody me
Dreams, they’d give me a new lease of life.

Torn pages, stories would have
Dried would have all the oceans
Solemn maybe the music
Dreams are all I’d have
Rags

Sunday, 2 January 2011

The City of Ruins



Monday, 13th Dec , 7:00 am
It’s bitter and dry, as our trusty ride slowly trots into our shed. Amidst the tiredness and the restlessness there is a distinct feeling of triumph. We had travelled more than 800 km’s in just over two days; finally we had visited the City of Ruins. I look at my mate, and I remark “it will call us back; it will call us back.”
As we unpack the gear and all the spoils, loathing the idea of going to work, I suddenly realize that our baby is missing, my cam, my Canon EOS 1000d. A feeling of dizziness hovers over me, I collapse to the floor. Slowly it sinks in that she’s lost; we’d left her at a Dhaba which was our last pit stop. I feel broken and torn, not knowing what to do. My mate suggests that we go back and search for her; it seemed the only logical thing to do. So we turn back 400 km’s, hoping, somehow that she was still there, waiting.
Friday,10th Dec,5:00 pm
A lazy day at work trots along, I relish the fact that the weekend is almost around the corner. A call from my house mate puts me in sixth heaven; he proposes the idea of heading to the estranged city of ruins – Hampi.  The very thought of going to the place puts me in state of utter bliss.
Saturday,11th Dec,3:30 am
The plan is set and game is on, after a few rounds of refreshments we set forth to a place which had the tag of being a photographer’s haven. And there was nothing more I’d relish. My life was in turmoil and this was my way out, a way out from all the heart breaks and uncertainties. We screeched forth in our chariot to a place where time stood still for decades. The very route to paradise was in itself a special sight; the yellow paddy fields, the green lakes, the sunflower gardens, the grey mountains, the peace, and the serenity. This was truly heaven. Tired and bruised we finally arrived at our destination, and immediately a sense of excitement captured us.
We started our pilgrimage at the river side ruins. We then embarked on a boat journey to an island, which was the retreat for all the party goers and fun lovers. We hired mopeds which took us around the amazing place that is hampi, which turned out to be such a paradox. In the wee hours of the next day we embark on our mission to cover the whole of Hampi in less than four hours. So we proceeded, all dressed up in the traditional attire, to take in the magical place. What followed was, being part of one of the most picturesque locations in the world. We left our mark everywhere, and where there were no paths, we made our own. It was as if Hampi had never seen something like us, we gave that place a new life, and people envied our vigor, style and our panache, and our crazy antics forced the people to fall in love with us. The clouds, the people, the ruins, and the boulders everything told you a different story. We were having the best times of our lives. We felt like absolute Rock Stars!! 

The Rudraksha U-turn


At the temple of V, my mate lightheartedly asks me if there was any superstition associated with the rudraksha.  I then proceed to burden him with all the superstitions associated with the brown beads. About its power, to shower both, good and bad karma. Of course at the end of the lecture I encouraged him to wear it because I never passed down an opportunity to test beliefs and faiths.
An overdose of Bad karma is what followed us. My mate immediately got ill. Our return back was hampered by a traffic obstruction that ran for miles. Frustration seeped in and my mate threw a beer bottle which trashed the car’s window. The whole humor changed and we had temper tantrums. We drove silently through the night; everyone hated each other’s guts by this time.  Finally we stopped at the cursed dhaba to engage in a feast. The spirits rejuvenated us. And so with our hearts and our tummies filled, we slowly retreated. We bid adieu and set forth. Amidst all the drama, the laughs, the pain, the happiness and the commotion we forgot her. All our memories, the pleasantries, moments of glory all snatched away from us in a moment of madness.
Monday 13th Dec,5:00 pm
The search for the camera was futile; we had travelled all of 400 km’s back without a wink to search for her. The very little hope of finding her, tarnished in the tears. I somehow found the courage to get back in the sack and ride all the way back, with the realization that she was gone forever.
So how did it happen, was it just plain bad luck, coincidence, or the butterfly effect? Would it have ended differently if my mate wasn’t ill and we dint have to pit stop at the dhaba, what if the truck hadn’t tipped over 10 kg’s of sugarcane on the road which caused the traffic hazard. What if my mate hadn’t broken the window, maybe we would have left her in the car? What if we had left a bit early after we broke for lunch? What if ???
Certain moments that come rushing to my mind when I think about the place, the pictures .....
the innocent  smile of little Kavya..that angel whom we met at the breakfast inn.
Lydia’s spirit …oh boy wasn’t she amazing; the gorgeous Dutch was more than captivating, in short time we had become such good mates.
The Egyptian dance we performed at the artistic stepped tank in front of hundreds of spectators; Trespassing into the sunflower field; Sipping beer while watching the sunset at the lake.
Me and Majnu venturing out into the chaos, to initiate clearing the sugarcane mess from the road, which ultimately cleared the whole traffic block. We stood in front of massive trucks unphased, unnerved asking them to cooperate with fixing the mess. Slowly people joined us and finally the path was clear. We walked away heroes with our heads held high, with people chanting our names in praise.
We took a solemn pledge that we would go back to Hampi, to pay our respects, for the one that was lost. But deep inside you know that there are only a few moments that you can recreate. The rest will forever be lost in time. But this wouldn’t stop us; after all she was out baby.
We would go back to the city that remained frozen for 700 years with our lost memories buried within it.




Wednesday, 15 December 2010

That thing that makes you Happy

I see them walk around in their fancy dresses
Their Porsche ride doesn’t envy me
But what’s that on their face?
It makes her pretty,
It makes her feel lively.

Could she be an angel
Could she be my imagination
What's that on her face ?
That thing that makes her pretty

I wander along the rusty roads
Trying to do the things I could once do
They made me feel alive
Only they have all forgotten me
What’s that thing on their face
That thing that makes them pretty

Hello sir, I call out
Whats that thing on your face?
That thing that makes you happy
“My smile you mean “
“Yeah how do you do it”

Why is that I cant do that thing
That makes them pretty
That makes them lively
That makes them human

I should be alive, cos it beats, my heart
I should be human cos the same, do I look
Why cant I do that thing
That thing that makes them happy……



Saturday, 20 November 2010

Shooting the moon at 3 a.m


Why did I do it? …
At half past one in the night, me and mate decide to wander in search of the prized ticket to attain nirvana-booze.
We reached home withered and exhausted from work with nothing at all to look speculate. We decide to embark on an escapade. Our ride, the La pedarosa, a broken down motor vehicle which needed quite an effort to get it started let alone run;and with hardly any fuel in it we decide to test our bikes loyalty.
We dash though the rain through unknown plains hoping to find our riches. We knock hopefully at the door of the wine shop, which brings us to paradise. A young man turns out to be our savior and shows mercy on us.
To celebrate our good fortune we start drinking on the bike, we engage in a game of passing the beer enroute. We scurry through the pocket roads, past lurking cops. We dash into the wilderness from the chasing lights.
Pitstop- we stop at this very special tea stall to get some much needed refreshments -hot samosa and some fags. We continue our trip to a place we always found thrilling. A place we always wanted to stopover –a broken down haunted house. It always appealed to us, the loneliness, the mystery. We break in to the house and climb atop.
 It just felt right, sipping beer, munching on some delicious samosas.  We lay under the star lit sky staring at the moon, building castles in the sky. Suddenly into the fray comes my sexy lady – my Canon SLR. Under that dimly lit heaven I proceed to capture the silence of moon.
We engage in a series of crazy antics later on, waking up our friends at 3 in the morning just to find how they are coping with life. Waking up the neighbors with our irksome singing. 

So why did I do it? It could be, just because, the next day I woke with a fucking grin on my face. These crazy stunts, adventures are what make life worthwhile. Sometimes, just sometimes, you need to do things that make absolutely no sense at all, to feel alive, to see the bigger picture.

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