Me and my mask collection

I am one person
with one heart
with one soul
but many masks.

When I stand in front of the mirror
I ask myself which mask should I wear today?
For I have many
Masks for each occasion.
Masks for each location.
Masks for each situation.

So which mask am I supposed to wear today?
For masks can take you to places
physically, not emotionally
For the face is attached to the soul rigidly
and I cannot fool my emotions.
But I can hide them, bury them...
And wear a plastic mask of happiness covering the sadness underneath
My beliefs hidden behind the mask.

Life is all about juggling between different masks.
The faster you juggle the better the day turns out.
For life is all about masks.

Finally at the end of the day,
when I have said everything I need to,
when I have done everything I have to,
when I want to be myself,
my hand automatically goes for the masks
I think I am addicted to them.

But I have hope...
Little by little answers will come
One day there will be no more masks for me
One day my beliefs will be known
One day this mask will be no more.

I thought I should publish this one in spite of my busy schedule. But I personally think this is one fine poetry piece of mine.I took that photo too at a shop in kodaikannal..:)

Only God can create trees.

There stands the tree,
proud and tall
wise beyond all.
Has seen many changes,
many unexpected,
doing as expected.

Rooted to the ground
He wants to leap and bound.
So he grows into the sky,
hoping to touch the sky some day.

With patience in his leaves
perseverance in his branches
Longer he breathes
and hope to be free some day.

Looks at God all day
and lifts his leafy arms to pray.
His devotion, the purest.
constantly, he prays.

I have never seen
a poem lovely as a tree.
Poems are made by fools like me.
But only God can create trees.


I wrote this poem inspired by the majesty of trees on a vacation to kodaikannal a hill station in Tamil Nadu. The photo is also shot my me.:)

Dreams of freedom

Sometimes I wonder what it is like to be free
Like monkeys swinging from tree to tree
Like eagles that soar in the skies
Calling to each other with joyful cries.

Oh! Free like the water in falls and rivers
 Free from suppression and captivity
Never staying in one place
Never looking back

To be free and without a care
Not to live in bondage and constant care
To live each day and spread my wings
To be forever untouched by negative things

Cry of a puzzle piece

They told me of a puzzle with a missing piece
No one told me of a piece with a missing puzzle
It's frustrating
when you can't find the puzzle, only the unfitting pieces
when there is no acceptance, only the stony refusal.

It pains me
when the puzzle complains,
when the pieces cry.
The pieces cry in vain though,
they are trying to fit into a puzzle they never can.
And end being pushed and hurt along the edges
They are worn out with the struggle.

They pretend to be another puzzle piece
Force themselves into the puzzle.
But it pains them
and they cry for a release.

They will soon be doomed
of this tiresome roam.
They search in vain
for a place to call home,
a place to fit into.

Their sweats and tears
will go futile,
Until they acknowledge
their perspective
the host's refusal,
Until they declare
"I am a puzzle on my own"
And learn to be content being alone.

Living among time bombs and land mines

Living among time bombs and landmines

The gang rape incident of the 23 year old has instilled a fear in me like it had with other women. Shop keeper, vegetable vendors, bus driver - these are the people we come across in our daily life. But we don't know what lies beneath their mask, a little scratch would reveal it. The thing that scares me the most is the inhuman face of terror, of brutality, of cold blooded cruelty that lies behind the mask everyone wears every day.
It is not a rape, it's a violation of humanity, of womanhood and of God himself.

The Delhi incident, Connecticut school massacre, the NewYork subway incident all shows that the world and humanity did come to an end in December 2012 as per Mayan calender.These incidents are just an extreme manifestation of a problem that has been with us for a very long time just waiting for the time to explode in our face. If you scold the student for getting low marks he kills you, if you tell off someone for hitting your car and he whips out a gun, you protest when a man teases you takes that a license to stalk you. We are all living with time bombs and we don't know when they will explode. There are human land mines that you have to be careful not to step on. Lest you trigger off an explosion that kills you.
But surely the educated ones don't explode in this terrible manner. At least this is what I hope. That is where education, culture, spirituality and greater consciousness comes into the picture.

But of course these people involved in Delhi, Connecticut and NewYork are indeed wired differently, with a really sick mind. But however sick they might be if they did,'t think they would get away with that they could have at least thought about it twice. The law should be made stringent enough that they should fear to do something like that in future. And we have to be very alert when dealing with people and be quick to get help or tackle it ourselves since we are living among time bombs and landmines.....

Butterfly Women LOST

A black leather wraps her.
She huddles up in the shadow
shouting out her presence.
She is hidden.
They will not find her
 untill she appears.
They will not perceive her
 untill she breaks out.

She searches herself and found
courage and strength.
She collected them.
Collected every iota of them
And waited for the flee.

She hardened her body and soul
to cope up with the cold world.
The moon and stars are already out
to watch her debut.
Now it's the cocoon that she has to break

Her ugliness is gone.
Her fatness of youth is gone.
Her gluttony of the past life is gone
The blemish of her former life has metamorphosed

Now she is clean
a new being with a hardened skin
a new being with a hardened soul
 is born.
Her fear is lying there
shattered as her cocoon
memories of that past will soon be cast off

Shouts erupt from below.
Bright beams to highlight her
She stands multicoloured
Beautiful
With translucent wings
that filter the light.

The winds dried her wings of all the past.
She flapped her wings absorbing the music in the wind.
To fly
To sail
To flutter and glide.

But.
She
F
E
L
L

in the twisty nets and wires laid by men
to trap her
ensnaring and scratching her hardened skin
Translucent wings of freedom torn in the brawl.

Now she can't walk nor crawl
nor fly high in the sky
She struggles and fights for freedom....
and perishes among the nets and wires

Thought she could fly
High in the sky
Fly past the past
But.
She perishes in the twisted net....

How many butterflies
yet to be perished
in the nets of men?




I wrote this poem in memory of the Delhi gang rape victim. I wouldn't get out of the depressing news even now......

Written By

I am searching through my thoughts
For a little spark to write on
a little spark to help me dream on
to give this life a reason
And
here I am scribbling away the thoughts
that refuse to come alive

Try as I might
words are struggling to come out
They are neatly bottled up inside
causing a traffic jam

And with all these things inside....
my pen refuses to write
warns me of the dangers of letting my thoughts out
And I struggle to pen the words

While I am struggling to write I ask
what's the reason that forces me to write?
It's my heart that compels me
whispers "write it down, write it down"
along with the beats
The truth has to be out
who but you to do it.

So I continue to write
even if the words fail me
even if the rhyme fails me
even if my pen refuses
I will continue to write....
The truth has to be out somehow....