Kamakhya

She danced and she turned,
She twisted and she burned,
She breathed and she swam,
Towards her inner voices...
To feel alive!

She visited her conscience,
And promised herself,
That, today she shall rise,
From the depths of murky waters,
To fight her blood thirsty demons,
And slaughter them...
One at a time.

The Prize

This is an image of a woman who stood strong especially during certain circumstances, which didn't really point north on the moral compass. But, she still stood there... She had made a choice. She accepted it. Hence, she could survive.

This poem is called "The Prize"

Day and night she stood by my side
She bore my sins and still gazed with pride
Well there was nothing to hide
She knew, her mind was clear
And her love was true
The path she chose was rough,
But she knew, how to sail through
And so, 
There was no need for a disguise
Or compromise
She knew what she was in,
As her eyes were set on the prize.  

Shalom

A Conversation: Part 13


Usman:

As I sit on the cliff's edge, and think
Of her, and her luscious lips of rosy pink
Her voice flows down the mountainside
And gently pushes me off the brink


Sai:

This one is called "Shalom"

Close your eyes and tell me,
What do you see?
Do you see a reflection of that person,
Who you used to adore,
Or a reflection of you,
Standing there just alone?

Stare for a while...
You'll see the image fade,
Right in front of your eyes.

Then maybe you'll know...
If it's the loss that makes your eyes tear,
Or if it's a blessing in disguise,
That has unleashed
Unknown tears of joy.
Shalom.


_______________________________________

Reference:

The Floating Voice: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-floating-voice.html


Here's a song that will set the mood.

For Once...

A Conversation: Part 12


Usman:

Five times today I bowed my head
Speaking the words Muhammad once said
I felt cleansed, elevated, approaching salvation
And then Nietzsche told me God is dead


Sai:

This one is called "For Once..."

For once,
Let's forget the definition of god.
Let's imagine that he didn't exist at all.

Now think...
How would the world have evolved?
How would the species have been created?
And, how would they have sprawled?

Is it difficult to imagine?
A world without its creator,
Man without its curator,
A long and lonely road without its navigator,
One without its ethical and moral indicator.

Why is it necessary to have that faith?
To believe only in one thing and doubt the other...
Is it possible that this is just an illusion?
A story that was woven,
On the basis of facts that were proven,
By ancient scholars,
Through the means of thorough observation.

Maybe their main intention was to gain order over chaos,
To teach us how to attain peace,
And how to get over loss.
To paint a mystical picture,
And create a method,
That would discipline the people,
And unite them,
To thank and be faithful,
To their "Creator - The sole initiator"...

They say that nothing can exist without a creator...
But what if, the creator is its own creator.
Which is nothing but,
A collision of matter with antimatter,
Which lead to the birth of evolution,
Through its splatter.

Now, 
The explanation of this won't matter.
For some of us have chosen faith,
While some of us have faith in scientific methods.


_______________________________________

Reference:

Revelation: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/06/revelation.html

Daughters

A Conversation: Part 11


Usman:

Red rivers rage in their monthly run
Excruciation tolerated for the birth of her son
If you have me so, God,
Kill me, don't make me a woman


Sai:

This one is called "Daughters".

She was born into this world,
Like any other creature.
She didn't know what's her gender, 
She didn't know what's her role,
She didn't have a preconceived notion,
Nor did she have a goal.

All she knew what life was.
The day she breathed her first breath.
From that day onwards,
She lived to witness multiple deaths.
Deaths, not only of her close ones,
But of her dreams,
Ambitions,
And her passionate soul.

Deaths caused by the conservative,
Gender biased,
Hypocritical society.
Who just saw her,
Judged her only by the cover,
And failed to perceive her as a whole.

They just saw her physical stature,
Her religious background,
And her parents investment in gold.

But, in this quest,
A socially charged,
Validating process...
They forgot to understand,
And peer deep into her bold character,
Which was bound by love and trust,
Based on the grounds of strong morals,
That built her very own principles,
Her terms and conditions.
Which indeed, guided her soul.

This may seem like a struggle,
But not for her...
This is her life,
And is this how we want,
The future of our daughters to behold?


_______________________________________

Reference:

Woman: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/06/woman.html

Sweet Messenger

A Conversation: Part 10


Usman:

Freedom Flies with the winged kings
Feasting on whatever providence brings
Pulling with claws of tyranny
Airborne creatures' destiny's strings


Sai:

This one is called "Sweet Messenger".

Words,
They fell from my mouth,
Into a pot of ink.
Now, 
Smeared on a piece of paper,
With emotions,
That are hidden deep within.
Brought to you in this letter,
Which will for sure make you think.

Think,
Of all the days we have been together,
Think,
Of all the fun we had together,
Think,
Of the warm summer days,
Think,
Of the cold and rough winter.

Oh we have survived!
Survived,
Through all this together.

Now, it's been 50 years,
Who would have ever thought,
That at one point,
We would have to be far away...
From each other.
Separated,
From one another.
Due to circumstances,
That were caused  
Cz of the ancient war.
In which, our ancestors fought... 
With each other.

Through this letter...
Let me take you,
Back to our glorious adolescent days.
Oh, our mischievous ways.
Filled with nothing but...
Pleasant songs and joyful laughter. 

Oh, come here you,
My humble bird.
The messenger of my love.
Here's a letter,
For my beloved.
Sealed with a gentle kiss.
A symbol of my,
Care and love.

Farewell,
My sweet dove.
I hope you travel well.
Carry my message,
To my dearly beloved.
For you are the only link...
That binds us together.
Forever.
Be it heaven or hell on Earth. 


_______________________________________

Reference:

The Eagle: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-eagle.html

Freedom

A Conversation: Part 9


Usman:

A ship crashes into the clouds above
Below them wings for freedom a dove
I would fly with thee, Winged One
But I am trapped here by my mother's love


Sai:

This one is called "Freedom".


Once when I was a little boy
I wished that I could fly
Fly so high like an eagle,
Soaring through the mighty sky.

How majestic that creature was,
How powerful was his glide.
He flew as if he owned the world,
As if he couldn't be confined.

Hence, he had that pride.
Which screamed,
Freedom is mine!

Ah those eyes,
Those magnificent,
Sharp eyes,
Hooked on a prey,
Waiting for the right time,
To take him by surprise.

Much respect,
I have for you.
Cz you showed me what freedom is,
And how it can be mine too.


_______________________________________

Reference:
I Would Fly With Thee: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/i-would-fly-with-thee.html?m=1

It's a Deal

A Conversation: Part 8

Usman:

You are too expensive, O damned brood

I have neither milk to give nor any food

If I were to take your life, my sorrows

Would be less than the losses otherwise accrued.

Sai:

This one is called "It's a Deal".

Let's strike a deal,

Maybe your wounds, 
Caused by the whips of poverty,
Might just heal.

I know that you have gone through a lot,
You sold all your gold,
Your horses,
And your plot.
Indeed you have lost a lot.

I know it's tough.
Tough to look back,
And think of ways,
How you could have saved all that...

All your humanly belongings,
Now, it's just a thought,
Echoing from the distorted memories of the past.
Ones that you have locked up,
And stored somewhere in your heart.

How very tragic was that.
I am sure,
You must have given this a thought...
How cruel is society,
It feeds on status, pride, and vanity.

The day you don't fulfill these necessities,
You are spat out,
And left in the gutter,
To rot for eternity.

Surprised?
How I know every detail of your life...

Don't be...
It's my specialty.
To help lost souls like you,
Look straight at reality.

It's a Deal...
I'll help you fight this cruelty,
Give me your hand,
Let me take over your soul,
Let me show you,
How different is this world,
How powerful is our goal,
How powerful is my goal...

Finally!
I have a strong hold,
I will now thrive on your soul,
Now, things will slowly unfold...

_______________________________________

Reference:

Balance Sheet: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/balance-sheet.html

My Baby, My Precious

A Conversation: Part 7


Usman:
A child lies sleeping at the breast
Drinking milk and taking rest
The mother croons to the child, "Drink
Well, for soon you must leave the nest."

The child for his part does not understand 
That he is to leave this promised land
Gleeful he looks into his mother's eyes
And around her finger clasps his little hand.


Sai:
This one is called "My Baby, My Precious"

Made from my blood and guts,
First fed from the cord,
And now from my lactating bust.
You lay there in my arms,
There's nothing but traces of calm.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

How I admired watching you sleep,
Afraid, that I could wake you up...
With just a squeak.
Now, you lay there,
So still,
Refusing to wake up,
Even when the cries ran shrill.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

With hushed tones,

I would sing you lullabies.

Now, with a heavy heart,

I'll whisper my goodbyes.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

For you have been called,

From the heavens above...

_______________________________________

Reference:

The Nest: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/the-nest.html

Speculation

A Conversation: Part 6


Usman:
Opiates, religion or just plain lies
Any port in a storm if a child cries
But if these ports continue to be trusted
The child remains a child until the day he dies


Sai:
This one is called "Speculation".

An addiction,
That makes you a victim.
A condition,
That either rips you apart,
Or binds you closely to tradition.
A relation,
That makes you forget all your past connections.
Is this love?
Or some sort of possession?
Maybe a divine intervention?
Who knows...
Whatever maybe the cause of it.
Does it really matter,
To know the start of it?
Ah, let them be...
Who are we to demarcate? 
As long as they accept,
The impact of their actions,
And see the ripples of their fate.
Until then,
We can only speculate.

_______________________________________

Reference:
A Child is Crying: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/a-child-is-crying.html

Blasphemy

A Conversation: Part 5

Usman and I generally text on whatsapp. While we were conversing, our topic suddenly changed and we started writing poems about religion/God. So when I finished writing the previous poem, I sent it to him. It was delivered to him almost after 12 hours! At one end, I was eagerly waiting for his reply/feedback while at the other, he was completely unaware that I had already sent him the poem. So this digital malfunction inspired me to write another poem. It's called "Blasphemy".

The flow of my thoughts...
The seed of my mind, 
Is still not sown.
A text that was sent yesterday,
Has still not flown.
The cause of this digital malfunction is not yet defined.
Maybe he was at play,
And he wanted the message to be confined.
I think this has happened,
Cz blasphemy was on my mind.

My Addiction

A Conversation: Part 4


Usman: 
Heaven is merely an illusory veil
Created for those minds that fail
To accept the cruelty that is life
And thus for salvation desperately flail.


Sai:
This one is called "My Addiction".

The veil that I have put on,
Is the symbol of my purity.
A fragile shield,
To protect my dignity.

You may think...
My method is faulty,
Which keeps me away from the reality.

But, what if...
It's my mental drip,
Prescribed to me and injected in me,
So that I can get a grip,
And face the mind-wrecking trip of the reality.

For you it maybe opium,
For me it's my religion.

As you say...
A perpetual state of oblivion,
A perfect sign of escapism.

So now try to distinguish this,
As we both know,
What does the trick.

From one junkie to another.

_______________________________________

Reference:
The Veil: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/the-veil.html 

Catharsis

A Conversation: Part 3


Usman:
Okay. Have you ever experienced the feeling when you are in a train and every single person is staring at you for absolutely no reason.

Sai:
This one is called "A Stranger".

Eyes, those naked strange eyes,
Looking through me,
Peering through my clothes,
My Skin,
And my soul,

What is so new about me?
Is there something that you have been told?

With those eyes you have scrutinized me,
For what?
A reason that no one knows.

Stare as deep as you like,
For I know,
How hollow is your soul.

_______________________________________


Usman:
Hollow soul,
Your hallowed goal must be to seek salvation.
Will you enlighten yourself or be resigned to damnation?

Sai:
This one is called "The Reason".

The fear of being damned doesn't eat him,
A glass of wine would hardly please him,
Attaining salvation is something that he doesn't seek,
Lustful salivation is arousing him and getting him at his peak.

_______________________________________


Usman:
What Zenith can he reach, he of lowly mind?
He who can think naught but his daily grind.
A cycle he rides to work, a cycle his life become
More cruel rider than God he will not find.

Sai:
This one is called "Catharsis".

God the divine creator,
Created him too.
With those same hands,
and the same mud he was formed too.

He, now has become the leech of the society,
Nibbling and draining the blood and life of this lady,
Who is no less than a deity.

How is it fair?
To be raped and murdered by his grotesque stare.

Well, this makes me question,
Does the divine creator even care?
Aren't we your obedient puppets?
Simply put in a state of despair.

This too shall pass...
So have you told
Yes, M'Lord...
This too has passed.

Now, I'm standing at your door.
With torn clothes and broken bones.

Now would you weigh my sins,
With my ethical and moral wins?

And let me know if I'm welcomed in your mighty...
Splendid,
Magnificent,
Divine,
Abode.

_______________________________________

References: 
Grind: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/grind.html 
Hollow Soul: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/hollow-soul.html

Nicotine

A Conversation: Part 2

Usman:
Lungs filled up with swirling smoke
Heart beats dimmer with each stroke
Life drains out of me and yet
Each puff finds me more awoke

Sai:
A puff that borrows breaths from the future...
One moment at the cost of many
You may as well rejoice, strive, and die at that moment
Than to live with faith and be fed by hope... 

_______________________________________

Reference: 
Awakening: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/awakening.html

A Conversation

It started with these words and then there was no looking back. I made a pact with my friend, Usman. According to the pact, we can only reply to each other through poetry. And that gave birth to this "conversation". Traces of which you would see in the upcoming posts. So watch this space for more!

Vintage Boy Toys

Look what I found at work, miniature vintage Chevrolet. 


Chevrolet Corvette, 1957

Chevrolet Nomad, 1955 - 1957

I wish I owned them... maybe some day! some day!

The Harley Davidson Concert

Finally I found my pendrive! It had the pictures of the Harley Davidson concert, which I had attended in October, 2013. 

Now, you can finally see the glimpse of that awesome night! Better late than never.


This is how it began...

Then came Junkyard Groove: Ameeth Thomas

And then, in the end, there was Shaa'ir and Func.

Monica Dogra

Randolph Correia

Rohit "PMAN" Pereira