Thursday, September 16, 2010

The Vacuum Cleaner Rests

Tucked away, beneath it all,
Are crumbs of bread, papad and dal.
Who put them there, I cannot tell.
Somebody’s going to burn in hell.

‘Have you been eating on my keyboard?
I asked my neighbour-in-disguise.’
“Why are you so mad?”, she despised.
“Can you not chill?” She criticized.

‘Can I beat you, and show you mad?
Why is it that you don’t feel sad?’
‘Look at what’s here … and with fear die
Look right there, bombil fry?’

‘Keep your lunch away form me.’
‘Give me freedom. To be free.’
“But then where do I go?
What do I see?
Where do I eat?
What’s in it for me?”

‘To hell with you. Your crumbs. Your life.
It’s my keyboard not our wife.
So eat at the table, you filthy pest.
Give my vacuum cleaner, much needed rest.’

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Destination

The lights come closer.
Like a distant reality.
The engine screams its name.

It's here finally, and I jump in.
I jump into this nowhere train.

It's got no destination.
Nobody on board.
It's got no purpose to serve or be served a railroad.

It's a train to nowhere. A train to nowhere.
Beware, it’s a train to nowhere.

It needs no station,
coz it ain’t kno where to go.

Stop. Start. Stop and go.
It's all a part of the plan.
Right left up down.
It's all but the same.

You won't ever recognise this nowhere train.

Monday, April 19, 2010

It happened to my guitar.

You spend a Saturday jamming with your band.
You spend the Sunday watching ‘It Might Get Loud’.
You go for Sunday evening mass in your shorts.
You comeback home and listen to some Joe Sat.
And this is what happens to your old guitar.

(In case you didn't get the point... my guitar was brown and now it's this. I'm calling it 'GRASS'Post Reincarnation.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Written when we just moved into the new office at Parel (December 2009)

The Euro RSCG office just shifted. And a bright, sunny day in this new office calls for a bright, sunny post. So, what should it be about?

Maybe it’ll be about the guy who’s so used to blasting his speakers in his own private section, that he doesn’t realise that now we all have to bear his music. Because this new office is devoid of walls.

Maybe it’ll be about the umpteen number of television sets all across this roundish office that have nothing but the cricket match being beamed out. Why?

Maybe it’ll be about the pantry that’s next to the server room that’s next to the Ladies loo that’s next to the Men’s loo, that’s situated inside a structure that looks like a cupboard.

Maybe this post will be about an office devoid of blinds. Where the sun crawls in from all directions, because it can.

Maybe it’ll be about my computer that suffering from an acute shortage of ram. Forcing me to watch videos like they were slides on a power point presentation.

Whatever this post turns out to be, I think it’s over before it even began.