Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Sketch

Waits at MATC , spent thus .

Gallery


Spot ten differences and win yourself a free trip to Timbaktoo !
December dew on Mandarin oranges (terrace)

ganesha

The whole picture
Nail Polish on Exam pad .... Ranjani (seventh)

Friday, December 02, 2005

Worries, whims and all!


Worries, whims and all!
She leaned over the window of the bus.
After a while she was fast asleep
And turned the other side.

Whims, worries and all and a drop of sleep,
Rolled onto her neighbour's shoulder.
After nearly twenty minutes she woke up
And realised she had missed her stop.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Thank you .

Nijanthan interviewed Anitha Rathnam . She spoke well and passionately about dance.

Watched "Malgudi Days" on Pogo .Loved everything about it , the actors , the story , the place , the feel, the way the camera moved around the story .

Sanjay Subramaniam at Vani Mahal today , life cannot get any better .

Monday, November 21, 2005

Shaw

Eliza : “You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she’s treated.”

Friday, October 21, 2005

Bosnia - A K Ramanujam

How can one write about Bosnia
Biafra, Bangladesh,just to take only the atrocities that begin with B

alphabetise cruleties,
eating persimmons and sleeping safe
in the arms of a lover,a wet moon

in the mullioned window?How file away
a young friend just dead of ovarian cancer;
a young breast cigarette-burned by a jealous

husband;where shall i put the old man who peers
through office windows looking for a yes
that'll negate all no's,or bosnia mothers

who lift their babies to strangers
squabbling for a foothold in lorries fleeing
to the borders where only death waits

gun and milk in hand,irony in his narrowed eyes
holding in one thought Bosnia,cancer,
persimmons,widows,serial kilers,

and you and me in our precarious safety?

Monday, October 10, 2005

:)

Oh! she made you smile,
like you would when sunshine fell in your eyes .

Ace it !

She said : "He calls the spade a spade , not sspade or sspaid"

Friday, September 30, 2005

They said plastic surgery would help .....

After the fire accident .. he always signed off as "your only".

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Twilight plights –Sri Sri

One Evening…
Norma Shearer at Roxie or,
Kanchana Mala at Broadway!
Where to go?
Mulled over, a university student!

At a Hotel --
Sweets of almonds or,
Cakes of Vermicelli!
What to eat?
Chewed over, a government employee!

The same evening…
Thoughts of ravening creditors,
Hungry whimpers of his children!
To hang himself to death or
To jump in to the sea to die –
Contemplated, a suicidal farmer!

Translated by Venkat . ( www.dustflies.blogspot.com)

Monday, September 05, 2005

Finally a good tune ...

The cell phone tunes are rather dismal , but this one i heard let my spirits jump .
I think it was in Sudha Dhanyasi :

" S ; PM P;M; S ; G;
NS G;
S;PM P;M; G;"

The tune must be Ilayaraja's .

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Aw !!Sinatra !!!

She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She loves the theater, but doesn't come late
She'd never bother, with people she'd hate
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girls
That's why the lady is a tramp

She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without careShe's broke, but it's o'k
She hates California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like dice games, with sharpies and frauds
Won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those broads
That's why the lady is a tramp

! .. ?

a worship of writers !
but
.....a curse of painters ?

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Drifting away from her own .

She tiptoed over to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee and worked on the bills for the month .The extra 500 would set things in place .

Everybody had beamed smiles of appreciation at her at the party and Mrs.Alfredo had promised her the hike .

The kids were brilliant . Maya sang like a bird and Paulo could conjure up the most amazing tales .They grasped things quickly ,making her job a whole lot easier. They had spent the whole week learning the chords and notes for the big night, to celebrate their grades .Maya sang effortlessly and Paulo was a wonder at the piano.


She sank back smug and and flipped through the pages of a notebook lying on the table .A letter dropped out of it .

"

Dear Parent ,

Please meet me on Saturday at 11.00 a.m . Krishna's scores have dropped to a C
and
Kauveri never finishes her homework on time .


Thank you,
Sarah Philip "


Krishna and Kauveri slept undisturbed in the other room
and she screened through the paper for another job .

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

at 9.00 a.m :
How much louder must i scream ?

After lunch :
Silence does not need to follow syntax.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Lunch

The shrivelled beggar woman asked me if i had my lunch.

Friday, July 22, 2005

The Fly

A crisp warm english morning sun shone on Mr.Pimpernel's bald head . It was Tuesday and Mr.P had his spirits soaring like kites on the summer skies. Clear summer skies ?Not quite, he spotted some dark clouds smudge the clear skies.His thick lips wilted into a deep frown and his head swung in grouse.It was nine and Sethu had not yet arrived .Sethu was employed to dress MR.Pimpernel on his special days.Mr P was sweating with anticipation . Tuesdays were Mr.P's grand days , the day he stepped out of his house , the day he wore his best clothes on ,the day his shoes shone bright. Yes there were Sundays too , but they were a dull white and they did not enthuse him and reminded him of his old age and that death was imminent .The picture of God brought in goodness , angels and candles and white robes and sent shivers down his bent back .He shook thoughts of the weather and sundays away and continued to shake it now pained with Sethu and his frown grew so limp it seemed inline with his drooping moustache !He vowed to tell that truant off this time .

Half past nine and Sethu rushed into the door,toppling over Mr.P's boots. He bathed Mr.P,dressed him tidy and escorted him on to the Taxi cab by ten.The cab wound around tortuous roads and reached the Trafalgar square,and was festooned in a confetti of confusion and celebration.Mr.P looked out at the various colours and people drenched with merriment and sighed at the delay.The black smudges of clouds poured in dull grey sheets unceremoniously and the regale rally broke to huddle under the roofs of buildings.Black umbrellas opened up to the skies and the greys and blacks wiped out all the colour. The car waded through people,water and slush and camberedalong till it reached the busier roads .People streaked across with serious faces and grim thoughts. The car screeched to stop next to a cafe with people discussing money , business and shares .The smell of fresh coffee and market trends pecked his senses .He brushed past the steaming conversations and proceeded to climb a flight of heavy wooden stairs.The flight ended in the entrance to 'Lutdwig and Charles firm '.
Mr.P retired from the firm two years back and he liked to pay frequent visits to scale the happenings around. He cloaked the stand with his coat and hat and walked into a passage that led him to the Manager's room .He knocked but did not wait for an answer and cracked the door open and peered into the new decor the room adorned.Everything had changed about the room.Mr.P's eyes gradually screened the changes.The walls were a bright yellow and the venetian blinds carried the Londonscape and opened into the window of another building .The burled mahogany desk had been moved out and found in its place an everyday pale pine desk .The floor was parqueted with yew and the Bukhara carpets removed.Potted creepers climbed at the corners and a huge Urn replaced the corner table usually containing a clutter of newspapers.A short knock interrupted Mr.P's scan and was followed by a staccato of Lila's stillettos.She placed a cup of steaming coffee and added that Mr.Griffith would be in shortly.Mr.P sipped his coffee and settled back to complete his scan.Everything about the room was new. Everything, save the wooden 8x4 photo frame ,containing a picture of his son.
Griffith sniffed into the room,his nose was pink with cold.He sat down at his chair and pinged for another coffee to be brought in . An exchange of pleasantries followed and Mr.P got comfortable in the new chair.An hour passed on discussions about the staff and business and other things that mattered .The clock announced one and Mr.P got up to leave .He paused at the door and added "My son and wife had been to the Kensel Green Cemetery last week " and hurried out.


Griffith fell silent and his head rested on the back of his chair . He looked at the ceiling fan.Memories of Carl came rushing in with every tear. He looked at the photograph and sighed .His mind rolled through those wonderful years.They had all flocked around to see the pictures of Carl graduating from business school.Lutdwig and Charles would be his to reign.Griffith had his dreams and Carl's goals fixed .
Griffith ordered for another coffee and turned to walk towards the blinds turning them shut and open and shut again .He opened the windows and let some incessant chatter in,to break his thoughts . Thoughts like these were hard to shut out . He turned around and walked towards his desk and sat down .A fly sat at the lip of his cup . He shooed it away .His thoughts flew back to the day the letter had arrived from the Army . Carl was called to fight at the front .Griffith was gripped with fear. He dipped his head down and stirred with his spoon . The fly sat back on his cup . He caught it with the Tribune .It landed next to the ink pot on his table.He put it into the pot and watched it. It struggled and swam with all its might .He picked it out of the pot and placed it on the table. The fly flapped its wings hard in a pool of blue ink.Everything had happened so quickly, the newspapers screamed of wars disaster.He'd pin his ears to the radio and have Lila call to find out if there was any news about Carl. He remembered screening through he newspapers,tears welled up in his eyes.He put the blue fly back into the pot . It fought and swam , its wings were heavy with the ink and its tiny legs too weak to swim.It made tiny ripples as it tried harder to swim.A minute passed in effort and the ripples died down .


Griffith tore a bit off the tribune, fished out the fly and threw it into his bin and placed the photo frame back .

- Ranjani

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

champ at the bits

intense thoughts burrow in and worm through
a bright noon sun peeps through glum blue clouds,
puddles throw oil rainbows thin cycle tracks vein through slush swept along the sides of the roads ..
.the enamel has slowly worn off .... traffic zooms past ..
dark chocolate remains on the edgy corners and i scrape them off first and they settle in the depths of my molars
fever settles on my brow and i sweat it out
i champ at the bits ....................
.the nitty gritty of yesterday's arguments swims in my head
there s nothing left ... an uneven countour sharp now bumpy then
....i nibble with thoughts zooming in and out ...harder .. cos theres nothing left ... why me ? why not ? whats wrong ? what happened ? how did it happen ?eating into my petty worries ... biting cold biting thoughts ... biting the edges off now and my incisors work harder .... bent backs get ridden on !!harder still ....and its off now and i sink back in my chair n chew in peace ....and let things roll by !!

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

tagore

The hurricane seeks the shortest road by the no-road, and
suddenly ends its search in the Nowhere - Tagore

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Monday, March 21, 2005

time

Time is the echo of an axe,within a wood.-Philip Larkin

Sunday, January 09, 2005

that artist , he

for love is the antithesis of selfishness
and the artiste a creator , he
hee haw he ,a creator
heave ho, he a creator
in love he ,swirled ,he
twirled ,he .... hee haw, unfurled he,
lay he ,watching the skies, he ,
saw he, life pass him by ,he ,
saw ,he, the pain , the anger and the madness, he,
saw he, happiness ,he,
hee haw saw hee haaw
but saw he, not the pain the anger the madness
he saw he, not happiness
he saw he, not life
he saw he, in life
he saw he , in the skies
he saw he ,in pain in happiness in madness
he saw he, ... himself
he saw he, in all,he saw himself
hee haw saw hee him
saw he haaw him
he ,the prince
he in love , never
he, the king
he, his pride
he, his sorrow
he ,his pain
he, all in all hee haw hee
he , the big fat lie
he , his true art
he , the creator
he in all he himself
...
and he burned thus
the bright flames throwing up silhouettes dark
his ego that flame
that firey passion ,
hah , not at all
that fire was he
.. an artist he called , himself
... burned he in himself
.. and he consumed he



hee haww
hey ,said she
him i loved !