khwaab-i-fursat

Spring haiku

2011-05-19T17:35:00.002+05:30

Little children bloom

In swings, gardens and playgrounds

Spring is here again.

haiku haiku

2011-05-19T17:22:00.007+05:30

noisy alphabets

clatter loudly in my head

haiku disappear

implosive rage

2007-07-25T13:10:00.001+05:30

Like the kiss of bloodied lips,
Like a violation that caresses me
With the sick sweetness of familiarity

I walk the thin edge
Scared and tempted
To jump in

And join the sweet, mad voices
Crooning to me from deepest Hell
Hellfire: so warm in a cold, cold world

O Shiva, I know how you feel
How you have felt
Since before Time began

Rage
Grief
Frustration
Shame
A heady cocktail
Too heady to drink

So you trapped it
The only way you could.
I am trapped too
Let me out, won’t you?

मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

2007-06-15T18:02:00.000+05:30

चुनरी उड़ई रे सैयाँ
उसको संभाल रे
तेरी अमानत हूँ मैं तो
मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

मुझे पिघला दिया , बहते हुए इस मोम का क्या करूं
मुझे संवार दे - इस बार परवाना कर दे
शमा तो बस जलाती है, मुझे आज जलने दे
मुझे संवार दे - आज अपना परवाना कर दे

चुनरी उड़ई रे सैयाँ
उसको संभाल रे
तेरी अमानत हूँ मैं तो
मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

तेरी साँसों के ताने से बुनी यह चादर मेरी
मेरी साँसों का बाना इसमे से तू उधेड़ दे
इन चीथ्रों को तू यूं समेट ले
नयी चादर नया रंग दे
मेरी शर्म -लाज रख ले

चुनरी उड़ई रे सैयाँ
उसको संभाल रे
तेरी अमानत हूँ मैं तो
मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

इस जहाँ में सब कहतें हैं की तू ही उनका है
इक मुझे ठुकरा के क्या तू पायेगा बता
अपनी महफिल की देहलीज़ पे ही सही
मुझ को जगह दे दे

तेरी अमानत हूँ मैं तो
मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

'ग़र महफिल की देहलीज़ पे ठुक्रायेगा मुझे
बाहर तो चला जाऊंगा पर पाऊंगा तुझे
'ग़र शर्म -लाज छोड़ के नाचूँगा मैं आज
मुझे समेट लेगा अपनी बाहों में ही तू
मैनें तोड़ दी हुड -ए -हया की आज दीवारें
जब पार की हयात की हद, तो ए साँवरे
तुझसे ही रूबरू होकर मैनें यह पूछा
क्यों ना रक्खी मेरी शर्म -ओ -लाज तूनें

तूनें कहा की प्यार ही में बस्ता है तू यार
और यार के बीच शर्म - लाज है इक दीवार
जो ज़ाहिर है वोह शर्म नहीं
जो बातिन है वोह प्यार

फिर तू ने मुझ से कह दिया
की हम तो एक हैं
तेरी अमानत हूँ मैं तो
मेरी शर्म लाज रख ले

आंखें नम हुईं और बातें कम हुईं

2007-05-06T12:03:00.000+05:30

Courtesy Max Babi in Pune:

कुछ सपने और कुछ आंखों में नमी है
एक छोटा सा आस्मान और उम्मीदों की ज़मीं है
यूं तो बहुत कुछ है, जिन्दगी में सीर्फ जीसे चाहते हैं...
उसी की कमी है

Ishqa was obviously in a more cynical mood...

जेठ की गरमी में
नमी सूख जाती है
वक़्त की मार से
कमी भूल जाती है

warm winter haiku

2006-12-20T23:05:00.000+05:30

Like potatoes roasted in glowing embers and had with dollops of home-made butter, there are some things that are only savoured in the winter - like the warmth and the cold.

Yea, to the season of cosiness and hot cocoa

:D
R

I turn lazily
in the post-coital warmth of
the winter sun's arms

cold fingered Mist turns
away from my bright window
leaves me warm inside

shawl of wax

2006-11-02T12:20:00.000+05:30

Last year, in the month of Paush
I had wrapped myself
in a shawl of wax

In the bitter cold
it froze me with my songs
And would not melt in the heat of Jeth

This year again, I heard
the footsteps of winter.
Sighed and stiffened

But it was the approach of autumn I heard
That first dew fresh kiss of a warm sun,
And I melted without fire

In the unheard sound, I heard music again
Unseasonably, I hummed the chaiti* again

Today I died again
Today, "Ishqa" lived again

*Typical East UP folk tune sung in the Spring, around Holi, which takes it's name from the month of Chait when it is performed. It carried wrapped in it the fragrance of the new year and joy.

पर साल मैनें
मोम की दोशाला
ओढी थी पौष में

शीत में जम गए
मैं, और मेरे तराने
जेठ में भी पीघल ना सकेय

इस साल जो आहट सुनी
शीत के फीर आने की
फीर आह भरी , अकड़ चली ...

पर वो आहट थी बहार की
पहली ओस की , नर्म धुप की
बीन आग के ही पीघल चली

अनहद में सुनें तराने मैनें
बीन मौसम गायी चैती मैनें

आज मैं फीर मर चली
"इश्का " अब फीर जीं चली

क्या देखा ...

2006-09-13T11:32:00.000+05:30

आज यह आंखें
आप की आंखों से
भर चलीं

सपने बुने
अपने चुने

इन ख्यालों से
नम हो चलीं

यह शुब ^ जब ढल चली
कोख से अंधेरे में
मैं सीमटी और पली ...

अब रोशन एक चीराग ने
दीखायी सेह्र की गली

उस दीये में क्या कुव्वत * है ?
जो झेल सके सेह्र # का नूर ?
या राह दीखा कर बुझ जाएगा
हो कर "इश्का" से मजबूर ?

^ evening
* power
# dawn

***

these eyes were filled
with yours today

weaving dreams
choosing dear ones

and weeping just a little

when my night fell
I curled up, foetus-like

now a lamp lights my way
to the break of a new day

will that lamp last through dawn
live on in the brilliant morn?
or will it show the way to "Ishqa"
and then be gone?

coming back to life...

2006-09-09T21:57:00.000+05:30

Rummaging through
assorted jewellery,
old lipsticks
discarded dreams...

...I found my toe-rings

I painted my nails,
slipped them on
and preened.

The mirror showed me
pink toe nails
with flashy rings

I had won
I had just become a woman again
with the hope of completion **

It didn't take a man
It just took me
To remember what I was
What I am
And can be...

** toe-rings or bicchiyas as they are called are traditionally worn as a 'suhaag' (state of being wedded) symbol. Interestingly, there is a theory that the acupressure points for reproductive organs are stimulated by wearing toe-rings - hence they were restricted only to married women.

ek khayaal ka safar / the journey of a thought

2006-05-09T13:34:00.000+05:30

Thanks Prof, for the ge(r)m of this idea... :D

Jeth ki garm godhuli
Ik yaad mehaki sondhi

In the warm twilight of Jeth
A memory quickened with the fragrance of wet earth

Dhundhli si godhuli mein
Dhundhlata sa khayaal hai

In the hazy twilight
The thought becomes hazier…

EK KHAYAAL KA SAFAR / THE JOURNEY OF A THOUGHT

Main badh chala…
Jo shamaa jali
Us raah pur
Jo dhuan uda

I rose and strengthened
As the flame lit
And went the path
That the smoke did

Jo subah chadhey
Jo shub dhaley
Kai raastey
Merey vaastey
Ab khul chaley…

The day dawned
The evening settled
And many roads beckoned
Out to me

Vaapas gaya thha dhoondhney
Us tesu rangey dopahar mein
Aankhon ko yun hi moondney
Kucch der yun hi oonghney

I returned to search for something
In that laburnum-coloured afternoon
To just shut my eyes awhile
And drowse there for a space

ab aa gaya main laut kar…
jub jal uthey yeh shaam-o-seher
noor sey aankhiyan ho gayin tur
main khadaa wasl ki dahleez pur…

Now I returned
When dusk and dawn had burnt away
In that burning light – my eyes overflowed
And I saw that I stood on the threshold of my beloved’s chamber

(wasl* literally union – refers to death)

palash haiku iii

2006-05-08T00:10:00.000+05:30

ratjaga laga
rudra ke maathey chadha
phir kahaan gira?

stayed awake all night
adorned the forehead of Shiv
where did you fall then?

palash haiku ii

2006-05-08T00:08:00.000+05:30

basant mein palash
aur jeth mein gulmohar ney
jalaya saal bhar

Forest flame in Spring
Gulmohar in the Summer
My heart burned all year

palash haiku

2006-05-07T23:55:00.000+05:30

basant ke palash
jeth mein nagna khadey hain
sapney tup chukey

The flame that lit Spring
Burns out in the summer heat
Like dried up dreams do

This brilliant orange flower with its intricately shaped petals has always fascinated me - especially it's english name - the flame of the forest. The undulating scrubs near where I live, seem to truly catch fire in Spring when tree after tree sends forth flaming orange petals and stand proud displaying their nakedness - near bereft of leaves - to afford an uininterrupted view of the gloroiusly self aware brilliance of the palash flowers

hindi haiku...

2006-02-03T23:38:00.000+05:30

cactus baanh pasaar
basant aalingan maangey
phootey bulbuley

cactus, with arms spread
awaits the embrace of Spring
bubbles burst away

hindi haiku iii

2006-01-31T15:53:00.000+05:30

amaavas ki raat
madira mein chaand dooba
Peei sung Shiv jagey

On the darkest night
The moon drowned in ambroisa
Shiv woke with his love

hindustani haiku ii

2006-01-31T12:06:00.001+05:30

shab, khaalis makkhan
ghee banta raha raat bhar
seher, sej mehakey

evening, white butter
melted into ghee all night
fragrant bed at dawn

hindustani haiku

2006-01-30T14:51:00.001+05:30

raat sej pur nritya kiya
baadal barsey thhey
seher mehaki sondhi hai

(you danced on my bed last night
the clouds rained all night
the morning smells of wet earth)

hindi haiku ii

2006-01-30T13:03:00.000+05:30

raat ka madhosh aalingan
ab bhi lipta hai
ban kar jannat ka kangan

your embrace from the last night
still clings close to me
as a bracelet of heaven

hindi haiku

2006-01-30T12:01:00.000+05:30

Kal raat ki supaari se
chhiley huey hoth -
paan ki saans - namkeen chumban

the betel nut from last night
scraped both our lips sore
the breath of paan* - salty kiss

*a betel leaf preparation

Haiku is a 3-line Japanese verse form traditionally attempted in a syllabic pattern of 5/7/5. I have attempted both 7/5/7 (which is a form I like) and the more traditional 5/7/5 for both the original as well as the transcreation which I have tried to keep faithful to the original. Haiku usually have a key word or kigo that is indicative of the season - but that is not something that I have adhered to strictly... Haiku in hindi/ hindustani is break from form because traditional hindi poetry is not counted syllabically. Nor is it "metered" in the same sense that the iamb does for, say a Shakesperean sonnet in the pentameter - dohas are dictated by mAtrAs in a strict 13/11 format... inshallah- that too shall happen :D

It's nearly last year again... On 31st December 2005

2006-01-01T13:20:00.000+05:30

It's nearly last year again
The days have rustled by again
Some in velvet, some in sacking
I looked behind and saw them packing...

... the whispery Autumn said Adieu
Brazen summer wished me too
we'll meet again, anon again
But tell me why it is that men
(and for that matter, most women)
only call us when we're gone?
And then say "we will meet anon"?

killed by generosity

2005-12-19T21:17:00.000+05:30

For the most generous person I know; on how overwhelming and defeating generosity can be...

iss rooh ney laakhon hayaat dekhey ab talak
aisa khula-dil shaitaan na paaya hai aaj tak

meherbaaniyon key bojh taley maar deta hai
saanson ko bhi mohtaaj banaa deta hai yeh shaqs

iss sey toh kai behtar hai yeh sung-dil duniya
yeh such hai ki martey hain baahar hum magar "Ishqa"
uss marney ka humein kam se kam ahsaas hota hai

tanha

2005-12-14T19:26:00.003+05:30

hum tunha hi kabil-e-tabahi thhey khud ke liye
aapney yeh taqalluf kyun uthaaya?
pyaasey thhey hum khud ke deed ke liye
yeh nayi pyaas kaun le kar aaya?

dhoondtey phirtey thhey dar-ba-dar
zindagi ke javaabon ke savaal
aaj chal ke aaya khud merey ghar
kashmakash mein thirakta ik taal

zindagi toh yun bhi ghamgheen thhi
kyun ussey tumney maathhey sey lagaaya
"Ishqa" kya pehley kum ashk bahey thhey
jo aaj yeh khaali taalab dikhaya?

winter luxury

2005-12-14T19:24:00.000+05:30

eucalyptus scented steam
cocoons me warmly
december warmth midst cold thoughts

haiku in a winter SMS conversation

2005-11-29T09:20:00.000+05:30

From Pilaspe/ Panvel by David Raphael Israel ata Dhrupad workshop...
From Faridabad/ Delhi by Richa Dubey at nothing in particular...

DI - 25 Nov. (10:12:05)
Pilaspe Haiku

Trombone in morning
sounds from an upper window
sa re ga ma pa
/ / /

RD - 25 Nov. (11:59:28)
Faridabad Haiku

Wrapped against the early dawn
I walk out of dreams
in a winter scented morn
/ / /

DI (11:59:28)

Maharashtran sun
burns in November's late morn
southern edge of north
/ / /

RD (time not noted)

Northern sun caresses one
tempts one to laughter
and flowering in the winter
/ / /

DI (11:40:39)
Thinking of your north
seems like more than happiness
in an unknown land
/ / /

RD (time not noted)
Summer Memory in Winter

Watermelon splits open
heart blood of summer
exquisitely murders heat
/ / /

DI (11:48:05)
Reply

In Panvel I've seen
great mounds of watermelons
now they speak to me
/ / /

RD
25 Nov (cont'd)

(19:16:47)

Traffic snarls on way to work
my day is half done
introspecting this winter

(19:20:12)

Fairy lights twinkle and mock
celebrating mundaneness
on this average winter eve

(19:22:49)

See myself in the rear view
am I closer now
or further from self this eve?

(19:25:19)

Please mute the traffic outside
much noise in my soul
winter calls up memories

(19:28:13)

SMSing bits of me
meaningless shared verse
to baffle the winter eve

(19:33:32)

Wearing lipstick by street light
in traffic rush hour
the Delhi season in swing

(23:59:43)

As I drink down the day's work
wonder where it went
in the early winter mist

26 November (Richa's cont'd)

(00:06:11)
Tea light gleams through whisky glass
flickers wide awake
in an alcoholic dream

(00:20:43)
Poesy dies in wnter night
season's cold shoulder
kills the warmth of treasured words

(00:43:06)
Candlelight induced haiku
outstrips the fair moon
in reality and life

(18:03:11)
The winter sun has gone to bed
crows circle far above
as it seduces the moon

[I take the "it" to be the sun(?) -d.i.]

(19:51:07)
Potholes fill up with winter
streetlights warm the road
but miss my heart completely

RD 27 November

(10:07:05)
Watery sun through my chai
dust motes hibernate
till it's time to come alive

(10:09:53)
The sliding door sticks again
reluctant to let
November into the house

(10:16:06)
The orange tabby stretches
glares at the bland sun
but it is only wooden

(13:36:31)
Sunlight filters through window
Raag Yaman stretches
as my bow draws out the Ni

(15:49:28)
Thirty thousand marriages
Delhi celebrates
the dawn of winter tonight

maulsari*

2005-10-17T17:55:00.000+05:30

The Maulsari is a tree with a heavily perfumed flowers which bloom in the cool of the North Indian autumn. The evocative fragrance seems to straddle space and time…

Draw maulsari breaths

Stir restlessly in the breeze

Of past and future

That fragrance draws me

Into unborn memories

Of the time to come

Maulsari maelstrom

Soothes, depresses, elates

Bitter-sweet autumn

varnan

2005-08-29T21:14:00.000+05:30

jhilmil sitaron ki yeh raen
chheeney hai dil ka sukh-chaen

neend nahi aati hai o rangrez
biccha do dooj ke chanda pur sej

sheetal jal sey jaley tan-man
sulaghta bhasm - mera shant chitvan

reshmi chaadaron pur siskiyaan bharun
mrigcharm* sey ponch do tum yeh aansu

shraap hai prabho, yeh shwet rang
vileen karo - mujhe andhkar sang

paap hain itney, ki ginti hun pal -
kab tum jhadogey jataon se jal

jeevan mein merey, vish bhar chala hai
Bholey, yeh to teri kala hai

mujhe sameto aalingan mein
madira bhar do tum jeevan mein

shaahid teri shahidi ka

2005-08-05T13:36:00.000+05:30

main shaahid teri shahidi ka
us khun-i-jighar ki dariya ka
terey uns ke us maarey dil ka
main shaahid teri shahidi ka

sab kho kar kya tuney paya?
O jog key rogi, ghar chal ab
terey sung na chaley tera saaya
tu bun ja bhog ka mohi ab

ghut kar tera yeh kya jeena,
zanjeer-i-zulf ney sukh chheena
muskaan-i-jafa ney dukh deenha
par usney kaha tujhe "piya" na

tujhe shahidi ki qasam
tod de ab tu yeh bharam

pyaala utha
haala pila
duniya hila
kahey "ishqa"
ishq ko aag lagaa

sangreal - a villanelle

2005-08-04T16:53:00.000+05:30

I seek my Sangreal in dreams
It shines on me with a strange light
And rents my soul with silent screams

That brazen vessel shamelessly teems
With all my hopes in the dead of night
I seek my Sangreal in dreams

Torments my heart, till it seems
A mockery of all that's bright
And rents my soul with silent screams

One night its alluring beams
Bathed me in silvered light
I seek my Sangreal in dreams

I seek no more, in tattered reams
I lose my scent and my sight
I lose my Sangreal in dreams
And rent my soul with silent screams

another monsoon haiku

2005-07-20T10:26:00.000+05:30

Forkfuls of the sticky day
Slither off my plate
As evening spoons up the cool

monsoon fever (haiku)

2005-07-01T07:58:00.000+05:30

Fevered breath melts frozen ice.
Hallucinates love,
Till the rains wash away dreams

Raging heat rapes dry body.
I thirst, shiver, cry...
Wait for the first blessed drop

Briefly, Haiku is a poetic form from Japan with three lines in the syllabic pattern 7-5-7. By definition, there is a reference to a season (usually in a keyword in the last line) . It is now a popular form in English as well.

the veil of shame

2005-05-31T11:33:00.000+05:30

haya ka hijaab
jo tumne hataaya,
hayaat ne javaab
mujhe de diya

yeh sharm ka purdah
tere ishq ne cheera.
meri ruh ko nanga
kare tera yeh jalwa

kucch jagah toh chhodi hoti
munh chhipaane ke liye.
tere noor se tapke hain moti
par mainein aankh meench liye

jalwa tera dekha na jaaye
ashkon ki maala piroti hoon…
purdah tu vaapas gira de
kar na “ishqa”, hijr ka khoon

the kiss of the whip

2005-05-31T11:30:00.000+05:30

chabuk ki chumban

sakha tumhari yeh preet
hai chabuk ki chumban
palash bhavnaaon ke, meet
murjhate hain, chhod gagan

aagosh hai yeh paash
ghee ke diye ki kaalik
sochti hun, kaash
tum na hote malik…

…mere sapnon ke
mere apnon ke…

rakt se lathpath
adharon ka chumban
tumhare har path
par andhera, sajan

phir bhi, aviral behti yeh katha
jeevan ka har pal tumhari vyatha

savouring the darkness, the quiet, the moonlight

2005-05-31T11:28:00.000+05:30

yeh chirag tumhe mubarak...
... humein yeh makhmali andherey de do
dhup ki tum karo ziarat
humein naheed de do
shama main lapeto tum apni chaahat
humein bas kali raakh ban jaane do
tumhare liye hai paayal ki aahat
humkein yeh haseen khamoshi de do
rangon se mile tumko raahat
humein yeh kaala chaadar chhod do
suno tum raga-ragini - anahat
humein tum saunp do

aaj tum mujhe araadho

2005-05-31T11:26:00.000+05:30

tum shiv ho
yeh satya hai
par mere bagair
tum shav ho

main tumhaari shakti
kya bina meri bhakti
tum jee sakogey?

insaan ki kamzoriyan na hotin
to tum bhagvaan na hotey
kaam-krodh na hotey to tum kya tyagtey?

tum merey ish ho
main tumhari bhaktin
yeh sach hai prabho

tumhari kal araadhna ki thi
to aaj mujhe pushp chadhao
main shakti hoon tumhari
aaj tum mujhe araadho

marsiya

2005-05-31T11:22:00.000+05:30

A dirge? Or celebration?

kal phir jumme raat thi
main tere dar ke paas thi
udhar gaa rahe thhe moharram ke marsiye

par ek bhi ashk na baha saki
meri aankh thi sookhi, saqi
ashkon ka mera yeh pyala
tere gham mein khali ho chala

saal bhar tere hijr mein ro kar
dhul chuka tha mera kaajar

marsiyon main ae “Ishqa”
kyun khoj kare tu mani ka?
Majmun yahi tere jeevan ka
Yeh to ashk-o- hijr ka mushqa

Teri doli jo yahaan se uthi
Duniya bidaai gaati, aansoon bahaati
Tu baithi sajna ki baahon main
Kyun ashk bahaun teri raahon main?

tu pyaasi keval teen dinon ki
us pyaas se kaaynaat hili
meri pyaas hai saari umar ki
majaal nahin ki ek patti hili

kya shok manaun?
Marsiya padhun?
“Ishqa” teri yaad main
aaj nachun main

"do not conduct research on my grief"

2005-05-31T11:00:00.000+05:30

unsey keh do
mere shok pe shodh na karein

mainein isey sanjoya hai
aansuon sey seencha hai
yeh mera humsaya hai
meri ruh ka ik tukda hai...

voh poochhtein hain
kyun hai? kya hai?
mere tumhare darmayaan
ik anjaan sa faasla hai...

yeh kambakht kahaan se aya ?
bhej do isey vaapas vahaan...
meri muhabbat mein kya nahin paya
tumne fasaana-i-jahaan?

magar yeh saath nahi chhodey hai
duniya bhale hi munh modey hai
tumhara saath pal bhar ka hai
aur merey shok ka jeevan bhar ka hai

yeh chala gaya agar
toh meri ruhaani kalam ki syaahi
sookh kar, bikhar kar
phir mujhe banjaara kar jaayegi

rahne do "ishqa" mujhe merey gham ke sath...

unsey keh do
mere shok pe shodh na karein

THE CALLING

2005-05-31T10:55:00.000+05:30

Not quite in tune with my blog title unless you consider that I often fantasise when I have leisure, about murdering at least one of the breed of cretins that proliferate in call-centres...

When they had just started, I saw them as the small but essential miracles of a modern consumer society. You called up a number, a polite voice answered, simply oozing eagerness to help you, “Madam, would you like to jump up and down my back wearing your old juttis which have nasty nails sticking out of them?” Whatever - it was something along those lines and they actually pressed some keys on a computer and presto – you had the answer you wanted or the thingy you wanted, done.

Today I only call up the various euphemistically named helplines and customer care cells when I am feeling particularly useless or I want to shout at someone and my computer and dog refuse to be cooperative – my comp goes on the blink and my dog walks off in a huff. Of course, the only other time I call up one of these numbers is when a wild irrational hope surges in me. “These guys are there for a purpose, right? They’re supposed to help me. They will.” Right on the first count. Wrong on the next two. They are there for a purpose, sure. But it’s not to help you, you sorry piece of misery (I beg your pardon – I should say customer or client or whatever it is) They are there to make you so mad with them that you forget what you called for in the first place and the company concerned carried blissfully on, without having had to lift a finger to arrange things to your satisfaction.

You, of course, are labouring under what is a common or garden delusion.

There was the seemingly simple matter of a change of name after marriage and address in my mobile phone company’s records. This is much what the conversation was like…

“Good afternoon. This is Dum Bo. How may I assist you?”
“I’d like to register a change of address and name please.”
“Please give me your confirmation details.”
(I reel out my current address, my mother’s maiden name; my date of birth and the colour of my neighbourhood panwaala’s shirt by rote. I was impressed at the security earlier, but now, when every idiot has a phone, who would want to tamper with my records? Anyway…)
“You have to send it in writing to our head office.”
“Okey Dokey, will do. Is that all?”
“That is just for the change of address. I will put you on to the concerned person for the change of name.”
I listen to crappy music for an eternity when…
“Good Afternoon. This is Assy Nine. How can I help you.?
“I need my name changed in your records. I’ve just been married and my surname has changed.”
A supercilious silence apparently decrying all women who change their names after marriage.
“I need your confirmation details please.”
(This time I throw in my dog’s breed for good measure.)
“You will have to send an official document in your new name like voters ID card, PAN card etc.”
I tell her, gently, that all of these are registered in my maiden name.
“Hold on, please, while I connect you to the concerned person.”
While listening to more crappy music that I am convinced I will be able to hum in my sleep now, I wonder why such vast numbers of officials in the company are concerned- probably for their sanity – I conclude and wait for the next assault.
“Good Afternoon. This is Es Tupido. How can…”
(Without waiting for the niceties, I give my details and state my request. Of course, she wants the details repeated. I do so trying not to gnash my teeth.)
“You will have to send an official document in your new name like voters ID card, PAN card etc.”
I tell her, gently, that all of these are in my maiden name and tell her not so gently, that I have already given the information to Assy Nine and ask why I’m being made to repeat myself.
“I am only doing my job, you know.”
I brokenly beg her to accept a copy of my marriage certificate.
“ I am afraid we do not accept copies, Madam. You will have to send the original.”
My heart goes cold at the thought of a valuable document like that in their bumbling hands and asked snappishly, “What’s wrong with a copy? I’ll give you an attested copy. Even embassies and consulates accept proper copies.”
“We are not a consulate, Madam.”
Silence from my end as I digest this.
“Can I be of any more assistance, Madam?
I furiously think “No you darn well cannot, you bimbo”.
“Have a nice day.”
Whatever chance I had of that has disappeared into thin air by now…

But the real gem is what happened while I was keying this in. I could not log onto my bank account on the Internet, so I had called up my bank call centre to rectify the error. They had cheerfully told me it would take five days to fix. 45 days later I decided to check it again. Of course it doesn’t work. Why should it considering that I had to sweat blood to get them to acknowledge the application form for internet banking in the first place? Fortunately, this time I was armed with the date of the complaint and the number, not that it did much good.

After negotiating the automated responses, I reach a phone banker.
“Good afternoon. This is Tood Aft. How may I help you?
I repeat my complaint, give my complaint point out that it’s been forty five days rather than five and could I please have it fixed?
“Confirmation details please.”
I go through the routine.
“Have you entered the username and password?”
“Are you even stupider than I thought?” I think to myself. Obviously the answer to both questions is yes.
“Hold on while I transfer you to the Internet banking department.”
I am screaming mentally, “Couldn’t you have transferred me in the first place you perverse bitch?”
“Good Afternoon, Verid Ense here. How may I help you?
I repeat myself, go through the confirmation routine – this time I add the material of my curtains for variety.
“Could I have your user name?”
I give it to him.
“When did you receive this?”
“2nd week of April.” I also tack on my complaint number, repeat the whole story all over again, anxious that he not miss any of the finer nuances and assure him that my user name and password are correct.
“Please hold on.”
I listen to the background music for my bank’s tv ad and wreck my new manicure tapping my fingers on the table.
“Your user name and password are correct.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I just told you that myself.”
“We have to follow procedure, Madam.”
“OK, OK, what are you going to do?”
“Are you sure the case is correct? The password is case-sensitive.”
I grind my teeth. I’ve probably been using computers since this fool was in short pants. “Yes”
“In that case, this is your complaint number.”
“For what? What does the complaint say?”
“It’s a request for a fresh user name and id.”
Now I shriek, “Do you take me for a congenital idiot you nincompoop? It’ll take a 100 years to get here and my great grand kids will be dialling this number to abuse you. Just tell me what I have to do to activate this lot.”
“Well,” a knowledgable pause here. “You see, your current user name and password are not working.”
Wow –that was an absolutely brilliant piece of deduction, Watson. “So what’re you going to do about it?”
“Please send a fax to our Bombay office to activate it.”
“I’m in Delhi, so is my account. Why on earth should I have to send a fax to Bombay?”
“OK – I’ll give you a Delhi number.”
Idiot couldn’t have given it earlier, of course.

Later, when I have more energy, I will deal with the matter of the fax. You see, I don’t have a fax at home, so I can send only computer generated faxes which the office won’t accept, even if it can call me back and authenticate it in a million different ways, but of course, that won’t occur to them…
Sometimes I wonder if we weren’t better off without customer service…

practising deep breathing for calm.

summer sonnets

2005-05-31T10:48:00.000+05:30

First, the Bard...

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Now, for moi

Summer, my heart, remembers thee to me
Recalling the brevity of thy love
In passion flaring like the flame on tree
Lighting a fire in the sky above

Subsiding into the laburnum sweet...
Perfumed memories kissing ev'ry turn
Fade as surely as blooms kiss dusty streets
And love dies in a slow and arid burn

Like thy love once did, the summer does fade,
I dry my heart's tears on the burnt brown grass
And possess myself to wait for the shade
Of monsoon clouds and raindrops on the glass

I shed summer's raiment of hues untrue
And bid the season a painful adieu

According to what I managed to glean, the Shakespearean sonnet (as opposed to the Petrarchan one) comprised 14 lines of ten syllables each and a rhyming scheme of either a,b,b,a or a,b,a,b for the first twelve lines divided into stanzas of 4 lines each with the last two lines rhyming...

Colour - or lack of it?

2005-03-04T11:48:00.000+05:30

the ebon of morning after
smudged kohl in my eyes
long tresses snaking out
to ensnare your bed

the poetry of Punjab
...the black garden
kaala bagh - rich with desire
heavy with longing

flirtation - in a little black dress
numbers - in a little black book

wiccan dreams
sufic screams
of separation and want

relief - from blinding clarity
sin - in chocolate and silk garters

sinking into velvety oblivion
black is union...

on marriage, separation and beyond

2005-03-04T11:43:00.000+05:30

a chance meeting in a chat room
passionate discussions overflowing
TolkienMarleyChailDelhitraffic vroom
spinning into a meeting, growing

into a friendship and more...
the sacred fire overcomes
family opposition and furor
life begins anew - the drums

of heaven sound and all's right
a long parting follows
but e-mail and chat are bright
spots in the gallows

of despair till he returns
oh joy! oh life! oh light!
my candle burns
at both ends with delight

it burns too fast
fierce flame won't last
and four years past
my ship's mast

breaks. i mend it
with tape and spitand sail on...

open eyes

2005-03-04T11:42:00.000+05:30

Since I lie dead
I will not do you
Out of your feed

Come, O Scavengers
Feast on my body
My full breasts,
My slim waist…

But leave mine eyes a while
For they wait, open still
For a glimpse of blue

He may not come
But still my eyes wait
Forever…
To fulfill their fate

kanha

2005-03-04T11:40:00.000+05:30

"I watched as she approached the abyss
Her full skirts trembling with anticipation
Her ektara thrumming to the beat
Of the velvety dark chasm

I could hear her heart pounding
Feel the heat of her gaze
Directed at the inky-blue depths

She walked up as I watched
She jumped in
Blue arms reached out
And pulled her in

Left me there
Struggling…
With reason, intelligence, rationality…

I screamed,
Tore out my brain
Dashed it to the ground
And ran to the edge
Wanting to jump

Till tendrils of sanity
Snaked out from my brain
Wrapped themselves
Around my throat…

The blue arms waited
A peacock feather floated
Up – mocking me, my ripped heart
As I walked away
Cradling my crazed sanity in my arms

I am not like you Mira I cannot have my Kanha."

shringar karne do...

2005-03-04T11:32:00.000+05:30

Shringar karne do

log hanste hain meri sooni sej dekh kar
kehte hain sab mujhe bechaari
agar aa nahin sakte toh dey doh khaaq-i-dar.
us merey surmey se tull jaayegi rusvaai...

khoon-i-jighar naseeb na ho toh kya hai
tumhaare paan ke chheenton se yeh maang sajegi
dulhan ka joda naseeb na ho toh kya hai
Tumhaari raat ki chaadar meri laaj ki sakhi banegi

choodiyan in haathon ke liye nahin bani
apni mohabbat ki zanjeerein hi de do
mohabbat nahin toh beniyazi hi sahi
unhin bediyon mein meri paayal khanakne do

nikaah pe aa na sake na sahi
rajput toh talwar bhejte thhey
tum ik chhota sa khanjar hi sahi
bhej do 'ishqa' visaal-i-yaar ke liye

translation:

"let me adorn myself"
people laugh at my lonely bed
look at me with pity
if you can't come to me
give me some dust from your doorstep
with that for kohl, I will escape shame

if the blood of your heart is not in my fate
give to me the drops after you have chewed the betel leaf
I will decorate the parting in my hair with that*
If the bridal outfit is not in my fate,
the sheet you slept in last night
will be a friend to my shame

bangles were not made for these wrists
give me the chains of your love.
if not love then give me the chains of your indifference
I shall wear them as my tinkling anklets.

If you cannot come for our wedding
it does not matter
Rajputs would send their sword#
Send a little dagger to "Ishqa" so that I might unite with you

*vermilion powder or 'sindoor' is a symbol of the wedded state for a Hindu woman
#Rajputs, a proud warrior clan in western India often married by proxy in this manner

"Ishqa" is my "takallus" or pseudonym