A Streetful of Misery

Long time after... I wrote this for our Band @ Cisco, Firmware!

There’s a cop on his beat, making sure
The world is as should be
There’s a crook by the bank, making plans
To change his destiny

He has no doubt about
The million he can get out
If he
Could just get a gun…

Got a few dead dreams
Locked away cold
In a cellblock on the
Old jail road

Chorus

When he
dreams their death at night
he screams, inside
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

Think about it, everyday,
Think about it, everyday,
He cries in pain and shrieks aloud
Help me! Help me!

There’s a man on the street, eating mud
To fill his hungry pit.
Doesn’t matter he says, to himself
Things will change in a bit.

If there’s a heaven above,
It sure will send its love
To me
When I am dead and gone

Got a few dead dreams
Buried deep down
Under his home stone on
The pavement ground


Chorus followed by lead

(slow and silent)
Poison in equal measures
Was passed around to all
In God’s eyes all are the same
No one’s big or small

(Reprise)
Pain is good, and he could

Never
Dream of joy, nor love
Nor life, he bides his
Time to die, time to die, time to die

Think about it, everyday,
Think about it, everyday,
He cries in pain and shrieks aloud
Help me! Help me!

Where there is wall...

That scrapes through to begin well,
Doesn't need to end just so.
Some lives live half a good life
Give the other half to stupidity

To see and to ignore it still
The elephant sits in the room
Look hard and I then find
It's but a hallucination.

Lovely are the tears that are
Shed when people meet again
Is such beauty ever found
In those wasted on going away

Why ego when cogito ergo sum?
Why spite when thy neighbor love?
Why glean when to give is religion?
Why glean when share is economic?
Why learn hate when so much science unknown?
Why pray when there's no sign above?
Why borders, vasudhaiv kutumbakam... :)

Night. Life?

What stares me in the face outside the window is the absolute quite of the city... the city of Mumbai, that never sleeps. Maybe it finally gave in to this no-night-life Bangalorean and slept... Yes, it sure seems late, and yet not early enough for the paperwallahs and doodhwallas and few remaining muezzins (what with the sena) to be rustling back to life. It's the only hour, when I guess, Mumbai sleeps. And I am awake.

What do I write about? I am here to attend a wedding of a palghat Iyer (capital 'I' intended) friend with a Marathi mulgi (capital 'M' accidental). Marriages are not made in heaven I say! No, nay, negative, nopes... they are very much crafted and treasured by dexterous and trembling human hands. Gorgeous in their success, embarrassed when they fail. The hands still often do a decent job of making that one institution that provides for the lonely days. And I have a lonely night!

What else do I care for? It is difficult to be truthful when you do not want to cause pain. And is it not hard to lie and then live through it? Your people skills are best left for people you dont care for. Come on, there's still life on the planet! I got off the Andheri station and asked a building watchman directions for Juhu gully. He says, out, right thenleft. A shop owner, overhearing, called out from behind, 'Juhu Gully mein kidhar?', and based on my answer fine tuned the directions to 'out, left then right'! As I started going out, a woman with vamp thick blue mascara, passed by and offered me to walk me to there, through the market shortcuts. Would Delhites do this for strangers?

Why does Raj Thackeray want my ilk out of this city? Lets be grown-ups about this. You know, if you throw out all the Bihari's out of Bangalore, there wouldn't be any good panipuri left.

Yellow blooms

As I walk on a sidewalk, try to find my path again
I chance upon a tree of gold that is blooming in vain
Its flowers picked by few, never for love, seldom for religion.
I walk on, pray someone soon inflicts on them that pain

Before they fall like their siblings scores on the wayside
Before the wheels weighed down by humans quash
That smaller hope within small petals, tender and timid
Of being of use at least in death if not in yellow blush.

My time here...

My time here was done and over a long time ago,
And my time here, now takes flight another time
Every moment that has dared to step on my toe
Now begs forgivance from its master, yes, that's me!

A flower, was it? or rather a bloom of them
Starry eyed I look on in delight all of tonight!
Evil eyes, gentle eyes, playful eyes, just eyes
What other eyes are squinting to see the light?

I Spy with my little eye, a spark here and there
Fie! Fie! on the wicked sly, that does not still accept
Past has been, and may it rest, and never to be seen
Whats not in here but soon will be...  is there and in between!