Teetering

Laying back, looking at the ceiling.
Emptiness festers, as I come to terms with this feeling.
Flailing, helpless, off the railings
Sitting with a busted deck, unaware, who's dealing?

My wants gather, hungry once more.
Caged for long, now coming to the fore.

As ambitions turn to dust
& ennui blankets thirst
Intelligence wanes & wit slowly rusts.

I look into the mirror & it looks back sneering,
The buffoon slowly teeters on the edge, slowly veering
To a disaster with nothing but wilting scars & guts
Accompanied by his fears & loneliness, his old buds.

Apogee of Self

A slippery chasm filled with spears,

A construct; housing wrath & tears,

A Mausoleum; keeping hopes & fears

& An Index; recording enemies & peers.

Sometimes, it moves to inspire

others; to ruin.

Sometimes, it works to conspire

yet even more; to triumph.

A shelter from the rains of dissuasion,

A pit to wallow in self-disgust,

An ally to channel some grit & determination

A foe to sow paranoia & distrust.

Through bouts of depression,

I take it to be a Lance of Light

Through objective introspection

I deduce it to be a dagger of avarice.

But its experience that makes me wonder

whether I am its only muse

or its greatest Sacrifice.

Fiends of a Spiteful Construct

Fiends of a Spiteful Construct

Shaking off the rust, I pick the instrument again.

Not from inspiration, rather an urge to pen my woe.

As the brouhaha boils over & politicos spittle,

My sanity wanes & sensibilities dive a new low.

Shocked at first; still disgusted,

It has been on my mind but still undigested.

To see this fall from grace, this degradation,

championing for the Seditious

while brave hearts bleed bare for this nation.

Dividing the gullible demographic with lies and false propaganda.

Insidious fiends set on furthering their own agenda.

I feel ashamed that these are the people I call my own.

While my blood brothers and sisters get martyred protecting these hellspawn.

Vouching for the guilty, set against the current regime.

They are blinded by their incompetence and resort to being philistines.

Shouting about freedom of expression and their right to dissent,

conveniently forgetting their duties to respect the liberty and act decent.

This is what we have devolved into,

 a mindless vociferous mob,

that panders to traitors and terrorists alike,

 by acting as self righteous slobs.

Instinctively, I feel the urge to descend into a state of violence.

To answer their calls and indulge in a pogrom,

dying the streets red much like the fall of Byzantium.

But with great restraint, I hold back & keep this silence.

Knowledge is power and cold facts will slay this Gorgon,

Free thinking, detached research would hurt more than shells of Titanium.

For too long have we been credulous, easy to lead astray.

Influenced by narrative of Caste, creed or religion have we been divided.

Time has come to develop pragmatic faculties that they dread; & stand united

Resolute to their manufactured opinions, no longer under their sway.

We unite under one banner and take a solemn pledge,

that we may be few, our attempts seen as trite and callow.

They are the Goliaths, their words resounding and hallowed,

But we are all David, we'll slay them at their game and clear the dredge. 

Bajirao - A great potential; squandered.

The latest offering by Mr.Bhansali promises a lot and I had high expectations going into the theatre. In recent years, I admit I haven't seen much of the works by the veteran director but memories of his last epic were still fresh in my mind. 'Black' was as much a piece of art and storytelling as it was a yardstick, for me to judge the Indian cinema.

I was thrilled about the premise, the actors and the man behind the lens hoping that the promise it showed will be given full justice. For the uninitiated, this is the story of perhaps the greatest man we Indians don't know much about and his second wife. A true mirror of the troubled and sometimes widely polarising history that this nation has suffered under various regimes and empires and with all this talk and nonsense about how intolerant we are becoming, it is a testament to the fact that true love can transcend boundaries.

In the main roles we have Ranveer Singh, a man who is slowly but surely creating a niche for himself with superb roles that suit his somewhat mercurial and ephemeral nature and his mischievous persona which may or may not have been creatively constructed. He plays Peshwa Bajirao - I, the man, the myth and the forgotten legend. To tell you how badass this man was, here are some cold facts. He became the Peshwa (Prime Minister) to Chhatrapati Shahuji Bhonsle of the Maratha Confederacy at the age of 19 and till his death from an unfortunate heat stroke at the age of 40, this man was undefeated. In an era filled with war both petty and massive, he was known as 'Rann Mard' or 'Man of the Battlefield'. He remained undefeated till his death, spearheading 41 battles, 41! and the Maratha Confederacy grew an alarming 945% with him at its helm. He is considered the greatest of the nine Peshwas and rightly so because his record in battle has never been equaled ever after. The great General Montgomery who was instrumental in establishing English firmly in India, described him as a man who would incite fear in the enemy even when they knew they held the advantage, such was his prowess and charisma. And to a point Ranveer does justice to the lionheart.

His rendition is playful and moving at the same time. He portrays a man with such raw intensity that even when he stares at the audience through the screen, you flinch a bit from his virulent stare. But, Bhansali to my dismay squanders such a beautiful portrayal by sticking to his trusted tragedy and love plot. At points, the film feels much like Devdas but on a grander scale and with more expressive actors and a central character who isn't a drunk wimp but the underlying formula is the same. A dragged out, insipid narrative of tragedy and starstruck lovers. He also creates an aura around the Peshwa making a caricature out of him. Bajirao can do everything, and not only at a regular layman level but at an expert level. He's the surgeon, the midwife, the negotiator, the general and the superman rolled in one and it is my only qualm out of the brilliant rendition of the character.

This also sets up the next character which is affected even more by the director's dilemma. Mastani Bai, the princess of Bundelkhand is the love of Peshwa's short life but is she fierce warrior, a superb courtesan, a mesmerizing dancer or a risk taking braveheart, the director is confused. Which means that even though Deepika Padukone has ample screen time she fails to deliver a solid impact on the viewer. I feel for the character a bit as the story progresses but I am still not immersed in it like I am with the Peshwa. The romance and drama are played up a lot more than what could have been a war tale with a love story thrown in.

But, all is not lost because we have a gem hidden in the rough. Despite much smaller screen time, Priyanka Chopra delivers the knockout as Kashibai, the Peshwa's first wife. Her love for the Peshwa is not returned equally but her devotion is so strong, that throughout the film you feel sympathy for her rather than the main heroine in question. As the main lady of the house, she starts as a young klutz enamored by the love of her life and slowly grows into a resolute and tough badass which conveys her sorrow through her silence. As the film rolls on, her performance only grows more enderaring and moving and by the time, the main climax hits I am sitting there feeling bad for her character rather than the two star crossed lovers.

In closing, I would like to say that by all means go and watch the film, its a good entertainer but if you are a history nut like me, prepare yourself for a bit of disappointment. This is not Bhansali's greatest but still much better than the regular Friday night crap out there.

3/5 stars.

Shandaar - A Cute, Clean Comedy

A light comedy, set at a quick pace and a welcome change from the loud & sleazy form of humor that we have got accustomed to. It were the situations that brought out the laughs and giggles and every character seemed to be hiding a small mischievous streak inside them. What was really gratifying was the nuanced implicit bits that brought out the best out of humorous situations, the characters, Mr. Pankaj Kapur in particular, lead you into some great moments with his finely honed craft that certainly shines through.

If at all, I'd say that the trailer had involved a bit too many of the comedic moments that the story seemed a bit short but all in all, it was better watching a happy two hour movie than a stretched out and nerve-grating gag that leaves you more irritated than anything.

The highlights were the main cast and for once the lead seemed to match the lofty stride that the elder Kapur set. Both Alia and Shahid were vibrant and spontaneous. Their chemistry sizzling and delivery intuitive and at no point the fun got stale or sleazy.

All in all, it was a hark back to the clean comedies of the 80s, the 'Jane Bhi Do Yaaron' and 'Golmaal' and a welcome change from the uncouth comedy that the current breed has devolved into. I felt entertained and happy, enjoyed many moments and easily looked over cliches for a good time.

In Closing, I would add that Shandaar is not a laugh riot or the edge of the seat, stomach splitting comedic tale but it'll put a nice & bright smile on your face and sometimes, that's all one desires from a movie. A good time.

- T

Gods and Guns

Back from the daily grind,
I lean back & try to relax my mind.
When a print catches my eye
of the summary of the week gone by.

Stories interesting and insipid
are flashed around like snippets
A few invite and few revile
of plots both disgusting and instigated with guile.

I stand, a mute witness to acts of morbid atrocities
Sometimes a Genocide & sometimes a Kamikaze.
Perpetrated by individuals mislead and misguided
in God's name.
By those who take on the guise of God's men
& act as his bodyguards on this plane.

Nauseated and Shaken, I question this all,
of the false pride of few and their gall
To think that the glorious one will need 
to indulge in something so obscene.

He whose presence is eternal,
wouldn't like his name forced down another's throat
This entire premise is banal
a god doesn't need to gloat.

Surprising, that the texts preach fraternity,
it has been a cause of such mondegreen
that many of its agents work to chop at the roots of unity;
like the steadily depleting evergreens.

With their message of hate and splenetic rage
they corrupt the innocent and keep them engaged.
They hand them guns when all they need is a book,
they hand them false sermons and make them into crooks

Engineering machines that are servile 
to their suggestions & outlook.
They wage war on each other enjoying
their knights and bishops toppling the other's rooks.

Through ages, we say that we evolved
yet the change seems invisible.
For each new interpretation is still scorned
a different faith is still impermissible.

The ones inciting hatred and spitting vitriol still shine bright
Guns & Gods don't mix is the message lost in this plight.
Does it matter if my god sings & your doesn't
or your drinks and mine doesn't.

Isn't faith a personal, continuous voyage of finding belief.
Enabling us to find strength, shun sorrow and find relief.
So why has it been a vehicle of constant grief
When the solace of finding your place in this world 
is the message of every religion in brief.

Time and again the tree of fraternity is ravaged
by enemies blinded by dogma; zealous and savage.
To nurture its rebirth the youth have to unite
fostered with their energy to win over the dynamite.

Lost Innocence (Of Perjury and Injury)

Sitting by myself, I answered the call
hearing on the other side a barely audible, muffled bawl
of a dear friend, in an abysmal situation
for prejudice towards gender was used as a tool of persuasion

Summoned to answer, to undergo trial by fire
accused of misgivings and assumed a liar
Funny thing this Rhetoric, grave is its error
It rationalizes sympathy to one and traumatize the other.

Though history is steeped in one side's favour
Justice shouldn't be blinded and facts be savoured
Though the situation is dire and efforts are required
A lopsided system does little than a few wrong shots fired.
Like an incomplete skeleton with dangly bits and portions
hijacked easily and made a tool for extortion(s).

Yes the change is needed but each case is different
 The call is for equality and laws to be deterrent
Though many monsters are dressed in hides of men, that much is indictive
But give the other side unadulterated power and they'll be equally vindictive.

The fight is not for a gender but for a mindset
To think along that convoluted line would bring only guilt in hindsight.
The evil is not a gender but mentality of abusing,
To trounce one's right with an assurance of eluding
the wings of justice that are easily duped
by false evidences and riding the sympathy so hard to dispute.

----------

Note: A short piece on special request. Hope you find strength in your trials, mate. My wishes and hopes is for truth to prevail.

No light in Sight

Note: This is a continuation to the calm diatribe (Hard Answers) I made an year ago. While the media has conveniently forgotten, my helplessness prompts me to just rage at the white screen and pour my thoughts.

This is not just about Badaun, this is about all the tragedies that have continued unhindered since that nerve wracking incident of December 16. As of now, I am unable to extend my help to all of those who have suffered but my spirit is burdened by your plight and I hope those in power take notice and help.

---

Turning on the set, I sat there dumb
then came across a chilling piece that left me numb
as I read and saw the reactions later in the night
I felt helpless, angry and saddened by the plight.

As the major media circus died, with electoral hubris quenched
I read the reactions of important people reeking of foul stench
Reports of Rape, molestation were coupled with others and treated the same
Though my face stared the screen, my mind was heavy with shame

Fearless, unabashed, intent on brutality
Repugnant little lowlifes who have forsake their humanity.
Our so called leaders rubbish this as a triviality
I look on shell shocked; at this unfolding insanity.

I offer no condolence, no regard, no lip service
I don't pretend that I stand beside you to face this injustice
Channel this rage within, awaken the inner Kali
for before you are monsters more reprehensible than descendants of Bali.

Take to the streets again, let your disgust be known
do not cower when you are right, you have to fight this alone
that month of December that left the whole country shocked
when masses flooded the streets and the nerve was raw
now is just a frozen memory that'll need a titanic effort to thaw
The silence has lost its purpose, as the help won't reach
for justice to prevail, your rage should beseech

The solutions professed are both vapid and trite
the funds and new laws won't do when the offenders aren't contrite
The media too has degenerated, numbed, searching for just juicy bytes
this dark tunnel of hopelessness just lingers with no end in sight

Shed this reticence and begin to shout
for truth to triumph you have to trounce these louts
with tools both physical and mental and strength resolute
Establish the fact that your honor is absolute

Assure yourself that you aren't the one in the wrong
It is the time these hooligans see that you are strong
The need for another Roy, Vidyasagar is ripe
To resurrect the forgotten values and respect with an Iron gripe.

This sick mindset and political maneuvering should be thrown
You my brothers! come forth and let your support be known
Show your will & back our sisters to remain driven
I don't want development in a nation that doesn't respect its women.

Cleaning a few mythical rivers of slime
won't make for a better case to the divine
It is the filth of vitiated minds that needs to be wiped
and a protective embrace for the feminine to make my India shine.

----

The Grody God

Swallowed by rage,

The wolf is out of sage's hide

signalling to the great slide

of the dawn of a new age.

Riled from unanswered heeds

unfettered; this abominable fiend

incessant on making gods bleed

with those who sell this trade,

the men of cloth conducting this mindless charade.

Snivel up and grovel at his feet

for the sake of their forsaken lives which feed,

his raging soul ignited by their creed

Why the righteous are trudged and smashed?

Why the good belittled and bashed?

Why the punctilious considered pushovers; trash?

Why is faith manipulated to be an eyesore; a rash?

Is there no justice, no godly scheme,

No fellowship, no Utopian dream.

If men are a reflection of god,

then is he too a sadist, a slipshod.

Reveling in other's misery 

residing in decadent opulence

while his believers toil in penury

misled by men who sell superstition with influence.

as he remains ignorant and in leisure

watching his sheep slaughtered for his pleasure.

Fight Or Flight

Brimmed with hardships & failures each turn,
constant defeats with nowhere to run
contemplating endgame and trying to agree
on a way to go with unfulfilled legacy

no matter the counsels of friends; family
now there is a corpse on a tree dangling
of one who tried to be free by hanging
to run from voices and reasons in his head; banging

no more seasons of perpetual autumn
nor reason for silence; solemn
hoping for freedom, joy & glee
searching salvation to a considerable degree

It's not easy to let this cowardice slide aside
why give up the battle and choose suicide
Running is easy when things get breezy
when life kicks you to ground
beaten, battered & thrown around

Many chicken out & quit
many more are winded from constant hits
But true men toil with resolve & grit
Taunting the gods to write a tougher script

Bearing it all without a wince or a frown
knowing that it's minim to slow them down
Fate is relentless and has considerable might
But Iron character is forged in furnace of a tough fight

So stand up son and ignore your plight
Battle on and claim the night
For day may seem lost
with failure up in swell
But the night is still young 
For you to create your own hell.


P.S: In response to a report I chanced upon highlighting the trend of growing suicides in ages 15-35 among Indian youth. 

Hard Answers

A tale of battered pride,
of mistreated mother,sister and bride.
unsure of what triggered this slide
and how to bridge this gaping divide.

Those with sources and sweeping powers
hide behind words and high towers
while we helpless, watch our trampled flowers
brimmed with anger and shame in their troubled hour

Is this borne out of apathy or ennui
is the solution singular or prorate
A product of detail or an attempt desperate.
A 'caille en sacrophage' or a simple 'ratatouille'

A revolution is only as strong as it's root,
like a bard is nothing without his Lute
a melting pot of all walks; rich or destitute
capable of swaying even when mute

Grounded in tragedy and the subsequent demise
of a braveheart who struggled, but hijacked by bourgeois
Candles won't do where stones suffice
The Nation's open nerve is the premise

Fooled repeatedly by smug fiends
who forsake all to further their needs
when demanded to come good on their deeds
they indulge in politics of terrorism, caste and creed

A solution is needed, furthered by political will
Something extraordinary yet run-of-the-mill
avoiding another showdown like Raisina hill
something that prompts the gaping hole to fill

Harsh punishments to adult or juvenile
like death or castration to render sterile
more sensitivity in police rank and file
to treat the victim well and with a smile

Time to wake from slumber and slouch
to come good on principles that our forefathers vouch
a revolution can't be carried from the comfort of a couch
To be heard, You have to heave and shout.

Heartbreak

Hey Jane,
Standing by the window pane,
why you so glum and plain
messed up and in disdain.

Hey Jane,
Rise from all this strife
you don't have a need for a knife
get a hold on your disrupted life
The season for love is ripe.

Hey Jane,
quit wearing this mane
its driving me insane
to watch you fall again
i know life's a pain.

So dear Jane,
hear me out this time
you are in your prime
so let go of agony and taste divine.

PS: Happy Diwali to all, Its my tiny gift for my rock-loving brother. Country rock if such a thing exists.

A Recruit's Predicament

In the aftermath, lying there shattered
of a war well fought but all bruised and battered
the soul jaded and blood all splattered
on the walls of freedom where it all mattered

chosen by fate or fluke
to start a new fiefdom
or be the new duke
would the welcome be popular
or the response be luke.

Answering the sermons like an unobstructed devout
unsure of his potential to wield his god's power or his clout
on the podium where attention is on every action and word spout
would he rile the old guard or bring them about.

the test is not the selection
but maintenance of poise 
to lead through rambles 
and obtrusive noise
would he be tradition's bête noire
or be the part of the bourgeois

brimmed with misdeeds
poisoned by corruption
guided by not principle
but by insurmountable greed
no longer the steel frame 
but a carrion on whom many feed
to satiate their addiction
for money, favors and unquenchable needs

hurt and discontent and disillusioned from this surmise
hapless and agitated but optimistic for a surprise
that may placate the rising fires
and end this turmoil.

God's Paradox

Story of an unknown being with little to loose; nothing to gain.
Traveling through various kingdoms; lying in vain
wars,scandals & betrayals have all driven him insane

He has tried for equilibrium but failed to his disdain
has traversed the world & witnessed technology's birth from human brain
has seen all emotions & interests that drives someone to drain
the wealth of beauty and intelligence on this mortal plane

He has been there & beyond many parallel domain
observed the vicious circle of power corrupts absolutely  but very hard to explain
as to why man leaves his fellow men stranded to go search for his personal gains
those who voiced against this were branded lunatics & inane
fading into the mists of time, forgotten time & again

He is wise but still fails to explain
what drives his ultimate creations to such atrocities to protect their own mane.

The Elusive Road...

Flummoxed was the shark,
for everyone but her could climb the trees.
Forgotten, she truly had, her ability to rule the seas.

Perplexed was the eagle,
'cos everyone but her could peck at fruits & flies.
Buried, she had, the reality, that she is the countess of these endless skies.

Riled was the lion,
for everyone but him could feed on grain.
Bygone, had the thought, that he was the overlord of this terrain.

Don't be disheartened,
if you can't toil amidst the dirt & mules.
For you my son, were prophesied to rule.

If the times are hard, persevere.
If the challenge is tough, persist.
For yours be this world & the one where legends exist.

The Doom-bringer (Revisited)

Feasting on the blood of my foes,
Heads on a pike put up for show.
Diabolical ; omen like a raven,
Spawn of hell in a form sinister than kraken
here to steal souls & corrupt safe haven
of spirits perished, crushed & overtaken
this ain't an empty threat so don't be mistaken
'cos the day of reckoning beckons when the juggernaut awakens

ripping everything to pieces & tearing all asunder
there's no retreat & no surrender
I am the punishment for your blunders
wrath of gods is but a tickle against this thunder.

Everyone falls against the sheer might
darkness spreads engulfing the light
no chance for a beacon to burn bright
resolve extinguished & cowardice surfaces to everyone's surprise

All Heroes have fallen making the last stand
but the vile monster stands unfazed
wiping blood of his hands
His vengeance complete
Successful in making courage obsolete
the reign begins, with fear as a favored weapon
No brood spawn from fate could challenge this malevolent demon.

Percieved Reality

Just a face in the crowd,
donning simplicity's shroud.
Don't be astound
in the metaphysical thereabout,
for the savant cautions that this might get loud
don't be bogged down, be proud
overcame the toughest to take a look around....



don't take this seriously,
just a random spill of a mind's meander.
sifting through the strands of whats seen
and whats hidden there under.

Pursuit

I want to be,
The one who has walked to the edge of reason,
seen & experienced the nuances of trust & treason.
an unperturbed mountain braving the seasons,
the one to have walked with kings & peasants,

I want to,
Experience absolute power, still be incorruptible,
be an enigma but be explainable,
be impossible to challenge & yet scalable,
be omniscient but remain intangible,
be unique & yet sociable
be a portrayal of brevity but palpable,

I want to,
touch the extremes, still keep sane,
achieve everything & yet be vain
be adroit, still be plain,
be a mortal & yet capable enough to transcend this plane
an advocate of nihilism but perceived moderate,
be the finality of destination & the fun of promenade

I know the road is arduous & the mountain tall
I will not embrace slumber rather, fight & fall
I would like to achieve this for once, for all
Neither be cowed by failures nor think small

I hope,
to have enough time to achieve this feat
find my tempo & my beat
be able to carry on even with bloody body & feet
be able to see through cunning & deceit

I am in pursuit of these lofty goals
the process of forging Diamonds from Coal
Conjure, the very essence of my soul
This longing for actualization to become whole

Here.... I rest my pen for a brief succor.

The Dilemma

Blessed are the blind to not see this apathy

blessed are the deaf to not hear it

but none blessed among us, to not feel it

The self righteous rapacious power

hidden behind benign facades

busy with mindless resplendent plunder

of the downtrodden for decades

Those surviving in penury and in deep fear

is this the burden for Ram, Allah and Christ to bear

Propagating the quixotic view of fraternity and global brotherhood

dismissed by those in power as a utopian falsehood

Standing on a mound of countless dead and prepared for further carnage

of Trust, beauty, coexistence, reason and Tolerance

left with nothing but a false pledge.

Torn by this dilemma should we try and reason or sit in torpor

should  we fight for principle or fill ourselves with rancor

cursed to be in an age that belittles Sympathy

born out of inaction and feigned Empathy

Should we steady ourselves and start from what is little and late,

to rebuild our world with a clean slate.

Or yet again embrace Otiosity and curse the fate.

The Mercenary

He dances to his beat,
marches on his hymn.
Hired by others for war
but works not on their whim.
On the field of battle he is,
a figure of grace and deathly poise
he wades through hordes
without a glimmer or noise.
Those unlucky to cross his path
know of his relentless wrath

His blade is no judgment of righteousness
nor the fangs of viciousness
he favor neither good nor evil
fights on both the sides of God & Devil
An Embodiment of war and Nemesis
the one who fuels the cogs of Ragnarök and Genesis
Fighting for neither pride nor wealth
nor honor nor valor nor vengeance
Just for some deep rooted Sadistic pleasure
from the putrid smell of rotten flesh and decadence

Legend talks of a fabled Apothecary
who'll alleviate the world of its misery
Rebellion grows with each passing hour
and hopes it to be The mercenary
They know his skill and his peerless strength
they silently chant his name at length

Hoping that he's the key that triggers the avalanche

that ultimately delivers their fitting revanche.