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Showing posts from March, 2017

The Whole Nine Yards - 3

Six Yards of Simmering Svelte



I am planning my outfit for a friend’s twins' meet-and-greet luncheon and a soft silk with an exquisite multicoloured Bandhini looks perfect. It promises to be a sweltering Indian summer’s day and though classic Chandheris or comforting MulMuls are tempting, my darling mother’s exclusive collection has entrapped my heart. I find it hard to find such designs easily today, and have decided to gradually usurp her entire wardrobe, starting with this one.  
If the Indian loom is renowned for anything, it is for the plethora of Saris gifted to world fashion. There isn't a fabric invented yet that the garment has not embraced and there isn’t a nook on the globe that the Sari has not trot upon. It naturally follows that many design houses have sported a Sari line. Very few are yet to dabble with the six yards in any form – the trepidation, if that, is understandable because the Sari does evoke such reverence as to demand a very sound creative faculty to jus…

On World Poetry Day

Stand up and take a chance -
leave no glimmer without a glance.
There may be a pothole,
there might be a ranch -
you'll never know for sure
till you reach out and branch.

Never say never,
the Sun will always shine.
If yesterday was yours to keep,
tomorrow could me mine. 
Fear the thought of fear itself -
conquer what it stalls.
Life brings us sprouts anew
with every rain that falls. 
The wizened tell of daring feats -
listen to what they say.
Their ghosts won't come to change our fate -
their wisdom, though, will stay.

Trust, but keep the blindfolds off,
see what lies ahead -
For every brilliant light you see
there is a shadow shed.  Fret not the shadow that evades
your quest for what you seek.
Fret neither the time delays -
in your own time, you'll peak. 
In verse, I speak my piece today -
it's poetry's own good day.
And while I labour, still at it, I have but this to say:
Try, strive and give it your all;
when opportunity strikes, say, Hey!
I am not old, but t…

Wicked Game

Video for representation only. Courtesy YouTube. What is this curse
that your beauty shall not be seen
by those who know not to seek it?
Your fragrance fills nocturnal light
and your vision mesmerises sight;
yet before dawn you beat it.
Which immortal wish fulfilled
makes your magic rare?
Why do you hide, consort of one night?
What latent sorrow will you not share?
Why are you shy of the Sun, Earth's own star?
What unspeakable secret do you bear? Why do you tease the longing few?
Why do you make us wait?
And when we rejoice upon your blooming gait
why do you never stay?
Or is it your wait for that elusive mate
which makes you glow so bright?
Is it those wondrous dreams you weave,
which unrequited, leave you sedate?
Could it be too that you get what you seek?
That rare, unseen, in a moment so tender,
your glorious face gushes with grace ...
and spent and content you surrender?
Beauty is selfish. I have heard them proclaim
that it appears, and leaves, so it is yearned for.
Are you …

Light unseen

It takes a while to understand
that dark is light unseen.
All it takes is a moment
if you're really keen.
Tell me why the Moon is bright
and still sports a darkish side.
Why do shadows seek to speak
behind a luminous peak?
Why does the Sun shine its time
only to shortly hide?

Is it the way it's meant to be
or do we fail to see?

It doesn't really hide, does it?
It's we who turn away...
We turn our backs to fact,
to a reality, led astray.
It is us, and not the Sun
that ceases then to shine.
It is us and not the Moon
that rides a lofty tide.
It is us and not the truth
that will not stand a test.

It is us, always us,
longing, at Dark's behest.