07 December, 2006
Divine virtue: Kindness
Punishment: Placed in freezing water
there and where
a jealous heart
turns a sickly
shade of green
wave upon wave
stronger it pulses
wades in the sand
green with muck
green hues paint a world in the envious frame of jealousy
I've been waiting for this sin to come along. I can't throw any light on the dark green intricate avenues of envy. I can't claim to even begin to comprehend the whys and whats of jealousy. But I do know its natural. And I do know its often me.
01 December, 2006
Divine virtue: Meekness (composition)
Punishment: Dismembered alive
she is angry, wild whimpering
heated words spew out
the third eye opens
a sullen mouth shapes
for nobody to catch
she lashes out
brimming, blowing forth.
needy in her cloudburst
unheard in her thunder
as the storm spends itself
she bottles up her wrath
26 November, 2006
Divine Virtue: Diligence
Punishment: Thrown in snake pits
Colour: Light blue
the sloth wrings my intentions one by one
i want to
i hope to
i wish to
but the sloth ebbs in and out
i answer: 'i'm too lazy'
ever felt the rude helplessness
of rarely being understood
i try to explain
but the sloth is my pet, my master
i bow and bow wow
do i even want you to unravel me?
laze covers me in a haze
i close my eyes
sloth sings me my lullaby
21 November, 2006
Divine virtue:Love of others
Punishment: Put in pots of boiling oil
Greedy to be with you and without.
to lap up your praise. and revel in it.
to feel pain. writhe. appreciate it.
to hold you. and be held.
my vanity is moulded as you snuggle against my ears.
i greedily push forward. a trifle closer. a baited breath longer.
greedy to hear my laughter echoed in your words.
to tease. and appease.
to stiffle. to repel. to restrain. to refrain.
to let loose. to wander. to beg you to beg me.
to clutch. hold. leave. and wither without.
to have my thoughts splayed spread-eagled.
wide-eyed.wonderstruck.at thinking of anything.
thinking of you.
i greedily amass the wealth of a look.
a glance. twisted lips. eyes. a you.
greed. its my vice. its my virtue.
i am lost. with it. without it.
Do you think greed is a vice? Even if it is fed on you? I wonder. I really wonder.
18 November, 2006
Divine virtue: Temperance (self-restraint)
Punishment: Forced to eat rats, snakes and toads
Saw Mrs. Sharma's oily little son? With a perpetual grease-soaked something clutched in his pudgy hand, face crinkled in layers of fat and glee. Hobbling along on his squirmy legs to grab the next edible thing that passes under his drooling nose.
Then there is that girl living across the road. Wears enough makeup to con you into believing that she is as hedious as she isn't. Hungers after a new wardrobe every few ticks of the clock. Simpers and swoons with an art that will put Aunt Pitty to shame. Aunt Pitty, Gone with the Wind, ring any litrary bells? Or any bells for that matter?
Watched the pompous old fart who ambles out of his car? The buttons on his coat are itching to burst but he is riddled with more serious concerns of quenching his thirst for money. Money? Does he realise his poverty? Never walked under the moon and her batallion of stars. Never washed his happiness with a fresh rain. Never known the satisfaction of a hunger-hidden meal. His utter incomprehension... and he doesn't even know.
Gluttony stares us in the face. In all forms. All ways. Always.
When is gluttony not ugly? When it sheds its shroud of want. But then it is no longer gluttony.
15 November, 2006
Divine Virtue: Chastity (purity)
Punishment: Smothered in fire and brimstone
hunger feeds upon starving flesh.
glowing flecks of hope light hidden wants
a stealthy glance. a stolen touch.
breathes a breath through my putrifying self
needs rip. shred. cravings burn.
urgent fingers flit over. flit past.
touch on. touch down.
psychadelic hues bathe an unwilled form.
silent, borrowed glee
gurgles forth. ripples. shudders.
dark, agitated locks fly...
angry rain-flooded clouds .
arched urges pour forth
whispers echo aloud, crawl under and surround.
exhausted, i lick wounded wishes.
13 November, 2006
St. Gregory the Great wrote about the seven vices in his work Moralia in Job in the later part of 6 A.D. He arranged the sins according to their offence against love. I will use this ranking to follow the sins one by one.
Each sin has a corresponding virtue and is linked to a particular symbol , demon and punishment in heaven.
let me off..till my next..
07 November, 2006
02 November, 2006
see beauty steal upon me
the cloth ripple over.scratching.soothing
your eyes fondle and sculpt my body
i writhe in the agony of knowing that you can, at will, create an illusion so vivid, I can touch my mirrored reflection.
Hear the embers crackle
in my heart's glowering silence
Touch the ache piercing my shapeless melted self
as it throbs life through me
I selfishly indulge in self-indulgence.I lean towards then rip myself way.
Sighs whoosh out a tired, expectant mouth
hands wring each other throttling wrists in vain.
jealousy romps over me as I watch you exhale.inhale.
I'd flutter into a wisp of wind.
To be breathed in, breathed out, breathed on
If I didn't know you better, I would love you.
30 October, 2006
"They" - the faceless mass of people, cultures, history, thoughts, all rolled into one inexplicably intimidating jumble of notions...preconceived ones at that.
Everyone knows the "theys". They are like the Sharmas or the Khannas along with their snotty little kids. Only a tad more opiniated and vocal. They have a weird way of creeping upon you, as if they had padded soles (souls?) and then they whisper/mumble/tell/shout/screeeeam their ideas into your head. They often worry me into believing their ways. I get carried away, useless chaff in the merciless winds of circumstances..the good, the bad and watever is supposed to lie in between those infinities.
I hate the "theys", they pollute with their notions and gentle prodding which is like a punctuated dagger, more prolonged and more painful. They come in all forms
- a friend who tells you to stop cribbing and start living, enjoying days which you actually feel like blowing your nose into and crumpling away.
- a mother who tells you to study hard
- a lover who asks for forgiveness...come on ya...cheating isnt such a huge do they say...things stink when they go bad...and relationships? They reek of the cheap perfume of disloyalty.
I told you. They speak a lot. Can someone tell them to hush it down? Its deafening my shut ears.
25 October, 2006
shamefacedly acknowledging his lust for the moon.
he wooes her with a carpet of star-splashed hopes.
the temptress that she is.
she shapes her answers in a different tantalizing form each night."
I am back from my village..a little hamlet tucked away in an obscure corner of India's ignored rural landscape...my haven. My island of tranquility. On one of my evening walks, I looked at the setting sun as it washed the sky with a sanguine tinge...and the words just came to me...they narrated themselves to my ears. I whistled to my dogs, they pattered along...
12 October, 2006
twiddling rain - soaked, crinkled - with - water toes.
eating plain thick slabs of bitter dark chocolate...and sharing them (I used to think eating chocolates alone is fun...but sharing them ....orgasmically intimate).
kajal on eyes. dream - drenched eyes.
puppy - mouth smell...even better than the "wet earth" smell.
time spent with dogs...always my moments of unadulterated joy...I could live with dogs my whole life and not miss people. Really.
Hugs. We are so stingy with them...thats why dogs help. You hug them, they make love to you.
imperfection. I revel in it.
writing my diary.
working with my hands....I bow to the soothing touch of a tired day.
I am happy today..in an "insane giggling, guffawing fit" way
chandni : )
09 October, 2006
there...can you hear her soul shatter
a million luminous little pieces
her mind romps over the shards
she aches and writhes
walks over blood-washed floors
her angel gently shines over
she turns a shivering shoulder, a stifled sob
the day dawns... she readies herself
vainly, she defies the ghosts in vain
a hint of a smile glistens on her tears...
06 October, 2006
30 September, 2006
a clutter of ideas chatter aloud
thoughts riddle in and out - a quizzical labyrinth
they squabble, they scream, they wither, they mope
the good and the evil battle along
reason lies squashed under frivolous greed
virtue argues with imaginaton's crippled flutter
truth nudges pride, alter egos draw blood
hope lights up the coridoors of remorse
an experience whispers life into decaying dreams
the phantom of a lost love flits past
its forgotten reassurance warms me
I watch amused, the outsider inside.
23 September, 2006
21 September, 2006
17 September, 2006
The raised eyebrows look that is especially reserved for members of our generation.
Dissapproving head shake (read: bigdi a.k.a spoilt girl).
Tragic pat on the back saying I'm too far gone to invite any suggestions.
All sorts of weird facial contortions even our creator wouldn't believe we are capable of.
Its funny, I don't do it to ape the west (people have actually told me that), certainly not because I don't respect my dear mother, not because I'm rebellious or want to seem pseudo - modern. Frankly, there's no reason...as a child I heard everyone calling my mother Shobha: her parents, my mama, mami..so I caught on( oh ya I was a smart kid). Everbody thought it was one of those cute little childhood things I would grow out of..little did they know!
So Shobha it is.
When I was in school(boarding) they screened all our letters home just to check if we were not writing anything vile and foul about school(bunch of losers!). Anyway so when my warden saw "dear Shobha" in the beginning, she came marching and said,"Chandni Singh, you are to write a letter to your mother, not sister. Come on write another one to your mother." I patiently explained the intricacies of my family taxonomy. She quickly rearranged her face from utter horror to calm concern. An hour long lecture on "society kya kahegi", " aapki mother, mummy sunne ke liye tadapti hongi" later, I wrote a model letter, full of all the correct salutations etc..bah humbug.
Two weeks later, I received a horrified letter from my poor poor mother. Ha ha..that sure tickled me. What I fail to understand is why people can't mind their own silly businesses?????????
Shobha, to me is the most beautiful word in my vocabulary and I don't happen to want to substitute it.
14 September, 2006
13 September, 2006
08 September, 2006
06 September, 2006
04 September, 2006
Some cheerful and springy
Each step is a bounce
Smiles sparkle aloud
Or are they just
Plastered joys of another face?
Some angry and hateful
Puckered in a frown
Glaring they shuffle away
Brushing off some rage
On me like teeny drizzle drops.
Some tall some short
All shades of black and white
Fat and thin, everything in between
A sky of people twitter by.
Hip girls sway past
A shiny bling-thing lot
Giggling, they preen their glittering sheen
I sit low in my scraggly world
As they cascade along.
The coochy-coo couples fly by
Some doing the shy finger kissing thing
They waltz past
On top of each other
Fingers and tresses running a crazy pattern
Podgy men amble along
Leering at me
I stare right back
Shiftily they shuffle past
Clutching there puny selves in drooling hands
And through my musings I see
There he comes now
The din suddenly is music
The time just a tick
I gather my stuff
As he gathers me
He comes and we go.