34 and a Day

i’m glad to be me

there’s no one else i’d rather be

it’s taken me 34 years and a day

to feel this way

but when the reward is this great

time is a small price to pay

i know others have consciousness 

just like me

but are they as conscious 

of how awesome it is to see?

i know i didn’t use to be

until love came to me

it has found me

in many forms, at many times

sometimes as pills and smoke and wine

sometimes as lines

but through it all,

there is this stillness within me

that is as close as i have ever come

to being free

i used to be quiet

now i often talk too much

but that core inside

doesn’t subside

never retires

until maybe

i expire?

my friends and i

we have started talking about old age now

and not in a mocking manner

the questions are real now

and the worry somehow grander

but despite it all,

there is a wonder within me

a wide-eyed boy inside

who can only count to three

Prav is how i sign off now

though i’ve been called jojo, pravs and pavee

perhaps i’m also an avi

or am i really not all that savvy?

i’m 34 and a day

but i think i’m just learning how to play :)

A Song for the Masses

I want to write a song
a song to end all wars
a song to heal all scars
a song to open fresh ones
and one to celebrate greatness.

I want to write a song
a song that will never fade away
a song that will not die with age
a song that will stay
with you and me, always.

I want to write a song
a song that will bring people near
a song that the kids will play
a song to turn your knees to clay
one that the gods will fear.

I want to write a song
a song to wake you up
a song to make it up
a song to break your heart
and mine, just by the way.

Lonely Hearts Club

Darkness descends on 22 Maple Drive
and so do a motley band of men & women.
With heads covered and eyes bent, they arrive
bringing shame in their stride.

Inside, a roomful of candles flicker
casting their gloom on the guests as they enter
one by one
and fortify themselves with liquor.
They know, in the ordeal ahead
It’ll be their only succor.

Sooner or later someone had to start.
A brave soul stepped forward to be the guinea pig
He said, with one last swig:
“It’ll smart, when we part
I don’t know how I’ll survive
Kept like this from her
apart.”

Another took up the tale:
“Could they be more perfect
our friends used to wonder
Then the unthinkable happened
and we were torn asunder as if by thunder
He, full of fury
I, full of misery
Brought on by an innocent blunder.”

And so, the confessions continue
A broken heart here, a forgotten spirit there
The stories are nothing new
and when it comes time for the review
with an understanding nod, a kind smile
do they the storytellers faith renew.

Now it’s nearing daylight
Just as they came, they all depart
one by one
so as not to give the neighbours a fright.
But mostly because
they know, solitude is their only right.

A Moment Lost

I have
no rhyme, no meter
On the threshold of greatness
I falter.

I must
think up, write down
Imbibe the visions that come
with renown.

I pray
for wisdom, a word
Instead what comes out
is turd.

I wake
up, realise
the moment has passed me by
I sigh
time for me
to awake.

What dreams may come

I close my eyes
and I say goodbye to sleep again
as I drift back to where it all began.

Outside, it’s starting to rain again
And I see you
lost in your pain again
as I do what I can.

But we both know
I’ve missed the train again
Maybe if I’d been more of a man
we could’ve sung the refrain again.

Then I open my eyes
and thank God I ran.

Twenty-Six and a Day

Year after year, I am reminded
we are ageless.

Our skin grows old and wrinkled
But the smile remains timeless.
Backs get bent
Gracious gestures live on.
Hair falls out, teeth follow
The twinkle in your eye never does.
Hands shake
Strength of character does not.
Memories and bowels grow erratic
Love just grows.
Legs become weak
Not the desire to stand tall.
Boobs sag, ears flap, lips droop
But the person inside shines through all.
The frame shrinks
While the contents multiply.

Day after day, I am reminded
we are priceless.

The Soldier

The sun beats down my back
sweat drips off my brow
and I feel my companions hot breath on my neck
as we march, foot after foot
mile after mile.

Each step brings us closer to the hour of battle
closer to honour
to pieces of metal on our chests
and to the stench of death.

We halt for the night
with an extra tot of rum
and, for the lucky few, opium.

We talk of honour, morality, justice
to pass the idle hours before daylight.
But in the thick of battle
there’s only the heat
and a job to be done.

A leg carried away by canon shot
an arm lost in the charge
another friend cut down by my side
and the only thought I can spare
“Today it’s him
tomorrow it may be me.”

And so it’s done.
Another battle lived through
another one to look forward to
and we move on.

No loyalty, nor patriotism
Not even a heroes welcome keeps us going
What we crave, is clean linen and a warm bed
after our march, foot after foot
mile after mile.

Wide-eyed lament

I’ve tried drinking
And I’ve tried music
But sleep, it doesn’t come.

I’ve tried vodka,
And gin and tonic
But sleep, it doesn’t come.

I’ve tried walking
And I’ve tried talking.
I’ve tried listening
And reading
Starving
And cringing.
I’ve tried friends
I’ve tried enemies

I’ve even tried cribbing

But sleep... it just doesn’t come.

H.A.T.E.

I hate the world, for all its people
And life, for its emptiness.
Work, for its pretensions
And God, for his followers.

I hate love, for its lies
And justice, for its keepers.
History, for our teachers
Religion, for the preachers.
Nights, for the insomnia
Day, for its length.
Friends for their absence
And doctors for their smell.
Relatives for their transparency
Children for their cruelty.

I hate time, for its elasticity.

Tragedies, for the comic-relief.
Bullies, for their fear
Movies, for the actors
Television, for the serials
Books, for the envy.

Smoking, for the smokers
Drinking, for the mornings-after

Jesus, for Paul
Ram, for Sita.
Faith, for its certainty
Music, for my inability.

Most of all, I hate me. For me.

Ghosts in the mirror of what could have been

So many choices we have to make.
So many roads we fail to take.
Wonder how many lives I’ve already lost
in a lifetime spent calculating their cost.

One

One life
One love
One dream, all our own
One place to call home.
One more day to take flight
One more gift to make it right.
One last day, before endless night.

In my twentieth year

I didn’t know a bawa from a tava
And I’d never heard of bawis.

The only Mac I knew was McDonald’s
And Reddy was a chap I went to school with.

I couldn’t tell the difference between a Muslim and a Christian
And didn’t know there was any, between Mangloreans & Goans

Today, I’m out in the real world
And know all this and more

And I’d just like to say:
Thank you to all my friends
Who shared my ignorance
Thank you to my teachers
Who encouraged it
And thank you to my parents
Who gave birth to it.

Q.

Will time heal the pain or kill the memory? Did the illusion of choice set Sisyphus free? Can you lose your way and find the destination? Or will nuclear war be our salvation?

With love gone will god need Man? Would you have done enough if you do all you can?

If repeated often enough does a miracle stop being one?

Is the journey just beginning, or are we done?

Growing up sucks

Someday, you’ll hear the concern
behind every censure.

Someday, you’ll be kinder to your parents
and feel sorry for others’.

Someday, you’ll find a stranger
in your mirror.

Someday, you’ll miss the comfort of certainty.

Someday, you’ll want real food.

Someday, you’ll be all grown up
and hating it.

No Rhyme, Just Reason

We could have been in love,
introductions got in the way.

We could have smiled,
fear got in the way.

We could have flown,
gravity got in the way.

We could have been beautiful,
appetites got in the way.

We could have made a difference,
a beginning got in the way.

We could have lived the dream,
mornings got in the way.

We could have been famous,
names got in the way.

We could have made it,
colour got in the way.

We could have been at peace,
God got in the way.

We could have created perfection,
but work got in the way.

We could have won,
economics got in the way.

We could have died,
love got in the way.

We could have been friends,
egos got in the way.

We could have been happy ever after,
but life got in the way.