28 July, 2007

Oriya oracle -III

did the wind flirt this way when I spoke to him last?
did the rain splatter riddles around my feet?
did you cajole them to put on this little tapdance
to will my mouth into a smiling treat?
---
I had heard stories about how tragically uninteresting Bhubaneswar would be after Delhi, how utterly moronic I was to actually choose to go there and how frustratingly humid the weather could get. Two months flew in a jiffy and on the last day I was sadly counting the hours left in the city I had grown to love.
Simplicity is one of those things that makes you feel its presence most when its absent. Like love. Or money. Or food. Bhubaneswar was simplicity personified. From the blood soaked volcanic soil to its restaurants (most with names staring with Maa). From the rickety buses to its kind, inquisitve people. From its broad roads to its Big Bazaar fixation.
Anyway, the oriya oracles are over, the pangolin watching is through (and how I miss those scaly dears), days of experimental cooking and fervent Indian Idol viewing is done. I'm back in the bustle that is Delhi. A lot browner, a lot happier and definately a lot calmer. Anyone off for a long trip to an unknown land? Count me in.
---

12 July, 2007

Oriya oracle - II

Its been more than a month here. My pangolins lay listless all day, wrapped in tight bundles, sleeping their days away. One humid afternoon, on my walk back from the zoo's nocturnal house back to the main entrance, I realised my dear pangolins need immediate christening. They lie around wallowing in their annonimity while the handsome tigers have names like Raja, Heera, Diana etc. And so in the name of the good lord I, Chandni Singh, devotee of all things pangolin, now present thee:

Pedro, the lone male of the pangolin fraternity at the Nandankana Zoo. He's a fiesty chap who in his overenthuiasm got clawed and nipped by the demure female we tried mating him with.

Punky, the female in enclosure 84. She's the one who clawed poor Pedro. She's the one who sleeps wrapped around a tree trunk all day, flitting away flies with her flippant tail. She's the one who's got the teeniest cage but does she complain. Naah, not Punky.

Pingo, the female in the nocturnal house, mother of Pedro and famous for burrowing her way out of her enclosure when she was expecting him. She was caught and re-installed in her quarters but her better half still roams the wild jungles.

Pansy, the pregnant female in the captive breeding centre. She's a voracious digger and is carrying a little fellow whom I've pre-christened Pesky.

And is all in this edition of the Oriya oracle, which has very limited editions as it is obvious.

Take care, people.

04 July, 2007

monsoon melodrama

the clouds are so heavy with their grey grief
they stoop to kiss the dirt
a fickle wind whooshes around
waltzing with restless strands of hair
a drizzle of tears splatters forth
promising a thunderous encore
the earth gasps and sighs at the sweet agony
of being thrashed and carressed by the rain's playful wrath
my teacup teeters at a melodramatic edge
as salty threatens to entwine with sweet
a clutter of wishes escapes the heart
a yearning that summons you out of nowhere.

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