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Monthly Archives: September 2009

Desire….

Raindrops on the window pane,
Remind me of your first touch;
The chillness in the car,
Reminds me of the warmth you gave;
I glance at the next seat,
And wish I could hold your hands when lightening strikes;
I scroll my fingers through the seat next to me,
And wish I could hug you whenever thunder strikes…

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Posted by on September 23, 2009 in Heart Felt (Poems)

 

Travelogue

Would ya go a little farther baby?
Would ya just gimme some space,
I am crumpled beside your frame baby,
I am compressed by your tummy,
There are tiles allotted for your feet,
But mine is hanging in the air,
Oh, don’t get that streak of hair out baby,
Don’t get cruel with your neighbor,
Don’t ya think love can still prevail baby?
Don’t ya think you should care for me a little?

Hey guys, wassup, …oye wait a sec…do you think this is a romantic poem, oh please, not again. Uff uff, please read it again and again, it’s my “haalat” in the local every day. L So here I am (again) with a post on “Me and my thoughts”. To begin with, every Mumbaikar likes (probably I think so) the transport called “local train”, but I love it for the sheer joy of observing people, new faces- lousy, drowsy, sleepy, irritated, angry, disappointed, bored, confused, happy, chirpy, etc etc and best of all, the look that says-Where am I? (This is the look on the face of first timers in the local) 😉 And every character looks as if she is straight out of some tele soap…especially the ones under the tag – aunty and college chick. There is one such lady I remember from my college days, she used to have a big gang, all Maharashtrain aunties, singing songs and rejoicing the journey. But the “X” factor of the team was this particular aunty who had a laughter like a, hmm… to be precise…Rakshas..that’s what other commuters used to call her. There are a few others, high class ones, who are like the touch me not plant, and their big mouths open for only aah uuuh auch…jagah kahan hai..thod haat hatayiye…etc etc…and these lines (or punch dialogues) are always without the magic words. Generally one will encounter a typical Kandivili, Borivali, Bhuleshwar crowd, (Mumbaities understand this Sarabhai slang) who know only to push, pull, grown, scold, yell, beat/hit, pull hair, kick (seldom), etc etc. But my favorite one is this lady who gets into the train in Vikhroli. Looking at her bulky frame and sweet smile, one would wonder – What harm could this innocent creature do to anyone on earth? Since looks are deceptive, I could explain. I will try to read her mind, as she may put it – I am a warrior, I would never give up till yamduth stares at me. By hook or by crook I will get to the opposite door, since I need to get down at Kurla. When on the battlefield I am like that horse, which doesn’t see, right or left, just straight and hit or kick whoever comes in between. Though I know this poor girl who boards at Bhandup bears the brunt of my violent streaks, but I believe “A warrior of light who trusts too much in his intelligence will end up underestimating the power of his opponent.” Hence all said and done, I am always on the right track, and war is war.
That’s enough I believe, do comment with your experiences if any, and if there is a person bullying you, contact Miss.Warrior, Vikhroli.

 
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Posted by on September 16, 2009 in Thats Me and my Thots