A special blog entry today
On account of Valentine's Day

One of my favourite poets who can pull heart strings
And talk about love without making you cringe

It would be embarassing for me to say
I have any authority to review him in any way
So let me just present his work
And let his words weave their charm.


For those who are waiting for love :
I am not jealous
of what came before me.

Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth
to start our life!

For those drunk in love/ or those who love their wine :
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared. More here

For in love and in denial :
I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way More Here

And finally my favourite
For those trying to forget :
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Complete Poem

Dusting my bookshelf & packing my stuff / I noted ... the past year I haven't read nearly enough

The pile of books gifted by well meaning friends
Trying to deviate me from my classic - biased trends
Next to them the unknown names
Bought on a whim one day

A rush of guilt begins to rise
Which I quickly reason with that over used line -
"I want to read but there is no time ! "
Of course that isn't valid for me
Ive been reading since when I was a little more than three !!

Ive read at night
Through powercuts in candle light
Through highschool exams
Hiding them behind text books and other such scams

Ive read my own and Ive borrowed from others
When I ran out
I'd find another

I would read in class
I would read at home
I've never kept count
But I have read tomes

I made friends in school based on their books
If they didn't read - they weren't worth another look
To this date I recall
A new girl reading a book in class-
I leaned over to see the cover
I'ver told her this , the best part is -
She still doesnt mind that at all :)

There are more - they know who they are
Who know me because of this shared pleasure

So why have I been pleading defense
In face of such heinous offense
And so I plan to read again...
No excuse will be entertained

( Wow - did you guys see
This blog is already making a better person out of me !
2 resolves in 2 posts
And none broken so far
That statistic is clearly above par !

...I'm sorry but you see

The blog can't take the analyst out of me ... )

Anyway - the new book book I began :
"Collected Writings by R K Laxman"

We must have changed the past year /And all of us scattered far far away/Are the only proof of what we were

Hidey ho dear crocodiles
Im back again - I know
Its been a while

For all my reptilian friends
Wallowing in the swampy marsh of jobs that stink ( :) )
Lets turn this bend
And tell everyone what we really think

In return I promise
I will write once - a weekly minimum
Unless data analysis and VBA inspire me
There is worse poetry yet to come

Apologies in advance
For rusty rhyme and inequal meter
But dreary corporate work
Is not a good teacher

You're all welcome to curse me
I now take feedback very well :)
And if you comment in corporate jargon
Well - that will be just swell !!

For those who were wondering
Why the hiatus
Here is a link
That explains my interim status.

ONCE AGAIN I WRITE
IN ANGER AND DESPERATION
ITS FUNNY HOW I INDITE
QUICKLY SUCH BITTER CREATIONS

This time its my MTP
Which has kicked a low blow
I thought I had results
But now they're nothing to show

Hoping to finish it quick and easy
And go home this sweltering summer
But its just not meant to be
One more month I will suffer

Coz my membrane - or thats what I was told it was
Has now magicaly transformed
And closed up all its pores
After all the experiments Ive performed !

It sure took its time
And chose the final hour
To come up with its sublime
New contour!

Just check out the pics
And you will agree
That my MTP
Was never meant to be !!

Forlorn alone depressed and dejected
My blogspace lies ignored neglected
Seeking inspiration my well meaning intention
Now awaits some divine intervention

In wait for those creative juices to flow
Right now they do not seem to budge
I believe the correct approach now
Is to be treated to some heavenly hot chocolate fudge


Dont smile or smirk
Or point fingers at me
If Kafka could use some help
So can we
And chocolate is no mean job
Its the traditional Mayan drink for the gods !

So many people saying farewell
And getting sentimental over and over and over again
It makes me feel as guilty as hell
Coz I haven’t yet started feeling the same

After a whole week of
Sulking, brooding, moonin’ and mopin’
After a whole semester of
Waiting for that nostalgia start kickin’

It seems it didn’t really come so sudden after all ..
It has slowly seeped in and settled
And manifested itself in this default mode overall
Of well lets say ... a low energy level

When everything I look at
Is with a tiny sigh
And all the words I say
Are tinged with an inky black dye.

To all my friends who may complain
Of me being stone/ tin/ hollow hearted
Or "weirdly cheerful" most of the time
Let them know
That goodbyes and nostalgia
Aren’t really verbal or sublime

Most goodbyes in life are unsaid
In these times of mails, messengers, Orkuts and Skypes
Most goodbyes are silent & unobtrusive
Unseen and unwanted ... they tip toe into our lives

Phone calls turn into chats
Chats into orkut scraps
Scraps turn into mails
And mails turn into forwards so juvenile
That soon these forwards too seem futile..

And a day of silence
Turns into a short swift week
Then weeks, months and years pass by...
And one day suddenly we look around to see ...

The room empty of that old familiar face
And the echoes of unsaid goodbyes seem
To rush into your heart and leave an ache
That is when the real goodbyes have been said

Lucky for me
I write this when friends abound
Lucky for me
I dont like to turn around

If you don't know what this is about/ Check the previous blog's comments out

Raghav's is the comment to see
This is the answer to what he asked me

I dunno if my answer "makes more sense"
But I simply went for the experience
People say this and people say that
So I went to see
Whether IIM was all that
It was cut out to be.

They say curiosity killed the cat
And now it has killed me.

I prepared for two hours flat
I still don't know India's G.D.P.
Yet these are all excuses I know that
And all I can say is that I'm sorry.

This answer deserved a separate post
Because there is a need to emphasize
It's not an occasion to be proud or boast
And use IIM calls or jobs as a prize

We are all smart
(For IIT that is the underlying condition)
There is no point
In using jobs/ calls for peer recognition

Its all too idealistic
Im sorry to be so goody goody
But in our youth
Idealistic is the thing to be! :)