The First Shower

The feel of cool breeze over unwiped sweat

The first drop of rain that slides down the temple all the way to the neck

The tongue reaches out to lick the trail of hot chocolate

that has drooled down the corner of the lower lip

The leftover drops and mist on the window annihilates photoshop.

With strands of curls dripping down wet

She moves like the trail of the first shower

Slithering in and out of the undulating tar

The setting fire of the senses catching her glimpse from the door ajar.

The smudge of kohl around her eyes

Rivals those floating masses in the sky

The rumbling thunder is belittled by

the melody of the trinkets on her bare feet.

As the puddle fills up, so does my heart

Saturated with desire ready to burst

Ah the agony of holding back.

In wait I sit, for her to come and rain

Come and rain upon me

Till eternity.

Describing the colour red to a blind person

It feels like blood, slithering down

It is sometimes hot, sometimes warm.

Acrid maybe, or a pungent smell,

Once recognised, it isn’t hard to tell.

It could burn your tongue; or be completely sweet,

It is festive and happy, like a child’s treat.

You can hear it rushing, like a city bus,

You can hear it soaring in a robin’s flight,

The sign of danger, cautioning your tread,

This is how it looks, the colour red.

To The Only One That Was

It has been the finest era

You helped create, brick by brick.

You converted a mere game

Into the lifeblood that made every Indian tick.

Sixteen years is all you chose to give us,

Leaving us asking for more…

Not another man has the game produced,

That we could so much adore.

You’re not gone, you never will be

You’ll continue to live in the memories of all,

Thank you for the sheer delight, thank you, ‘the Wall’.

After Hearing ‘God’s Channel’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdIPrMPKO8Q

I was asked by some one very close to me to close my eyes and listen to this song. The following was what I felt:

When the song began, I could see a vast open area as if on the top of a hill. It had tall grasses that came up till my chest. The time was sunset, so all around it was bathed in orange colour. There was a strong breeze in which the grass was swaying. The point of view was mine, and I saw another girl, a young child a little away from me. She was wearing a plain white sleeve-less knee-length frock. She had open hair till her shoulders which was also blowing in the wind. She was fair and had a big wide smile, and her mouth was open in happiness. She was ahead of me, wading through the tall grasses, parting them and making way for herself with her hands. She would pause from time to time and look at me.

The scene then shifted to a beach scene. The same girl and I are in water that's till our chest. The waters are very calm and there are no waves. The time is the same, sunset, with everything orange in colour. I am, as usual, scared being in water, at the same excited. But the little girl is not scared at all and is enjoying herself.

Next scene I'm lying on a completely white surface. There is a very soft blanket-like plain white cloth under me, which I have kept on my lap and I am bending down to lie with my face on it with my eyes shut. The white cloth cannot be differentiated from the whiteness around. I feel very calm and relaxed and I am falling asleep.

When that part of the song comes, where the guy is saying something, I am still lying on the white cloth; but I feel I am hearing those voices from above me, as if there are people walking on the ceiling.

The overall feeling I got from the song was a feeling of suffocation, like the exact kind of feeling when you are chest-deep in water and there's that slight fear of drowning. That's why I was in water that was chest deep, and grass that was tall till my chest. In both the first scenes, I was scared, because of that feeling of suffocation, but looking at the little girl so care-free and enjoying herself, I derived confidence from her and felt safe that everything's ok. The orange colour all around me was soothing, but the strong breeze was a little uncomfortable.

I felt weightless throughout, and when I was lying on the white cloth, I felt my body going numb. 

When I actually opened my eyes after hearing the song, my hand had grown numb.

Analysing the cover of The God Of Small Things

I have wondered about it quite a bit and each time got lost in the beauty of the cover...I don't associate it with anything negative like death...though I agree with Hope..the lotus flower is one of the eight auspicious symbols or 'ashtamangala' in Tibetan Buddhism in which it represents purity of body, speech, and mind, floating above the muddy waters of attachment and desire; represents the full blossoming of wholesome deeds in blissful liberation. The flower, as you know, blooms out of dirt and mud; so the allusion could be the pure love of Ammu and Velutha blossoming out of the dirt of caste system and untouchability. The plant also has leaves which repel water, which could symbolise the same thing - their love repelling the dirty waters polluted by the likes of Baby Kochamma and her family members. I personally liked to fancy the lotus as Velutha himself - the beautiful man with a "dirty" background...the man with "a leaf on his back, who made the monsoons come on time"....the one who dared to "make the unthinkable thinkable, and the impossible, really happen".....The many layers of leaves and their various shades of green could also hint at the depth of the story, the multiple meanings and the various perspectives....The presence of several leaves of various colours, with a tiny blossom in the center, appeared to me as if, we all are the same (leaves) but are different, whether in caste, colour or religion (colours), yet our needs are the same (the pink blossom) - love, togetherness and happiness. {Ah..this last interpretation is perhaps reading too much!! ;) }
Finally, the placing of the tiny blossom in the middle of those big, broad leaves could also be telling us to focus upon the Small things that the book talks about.

Describing a tree to a blind man (using the 5 senses)

It’s a beautiful day and I can’t see

But today I wish to know a tree.

I walked barefoot,

As he led me by my hand

To nature’s lap,

Which he called magic land.

A sudden roughness I felt, as I touched,

Jagged edges that seemed quite much.

“The bark”, he said, was the name,

“The colour of your eyes looks much the same.”

Alarmed I was, to hear a sudden “knock-knock”,

The woodpecker, he said, was building a home in the block.

Made to reach out and feel something round,

Mango – the fruit was what I found.

The smell was different, when I put it to my nose

Not like burnt paper; neither the fragrance of a rose.

He asked me to bite, and it was then,

A juicy nectar transported me to heaven…

So today it was the mango-tree

That he helped me to feel, to taste, touch and see.

His Eyes

(Poem in hundred words comprising of only monosyllables)

His eyes are black

As black as night

They give a light

That lights my life.

Long of lash,

Thick of brow

I saw them then,

I see them now.

When he sets them on me,

I smile in glee

I feel the blood in me rush,

And my cheeks start to blush.

I so wish to stand and stare,

I try to peep from my hair

But I feel so shy,

Don’t know why.

I so wish to lock eyes with him;

But guts I lack, and it stays a whim.

His eyes it is that I am drawn to,

Get close to them, I do want to.

His eyes which are black

As black as the night

They give a light

That lights my life.