Rush Hour Pages

She Laughs...

2009-07-27T04:33:00.001-07:00

It was that time of the year, again.
When the breeze of love touches her,
rattles through her long, widespread branches,
and makes her heart sing with joy.

And she tosses up her head,
and she laughs,
and like a moment frozen in time,
her laughter echoes,
Over the hills, on to the plains.
You can see her laughter
for miles around her,
A Red halo of Joy,
Of a new beginning, of hope.

Her red, wild tresses all over her...
Like a wild, joyous and echoing laugh...
Like a Tribal beauty,
The Gulmohur Tree Laughs...

Maithili Desai

Intentions...

2009-07-25T10:18:00.000-07:00

She pored over page after page,
Her script notes all over the table.
An unseen organized pattern
in the seemingly random mess.
she was tired, frustrated
planing a Scene and a dinner
in her head.

She got up and went to cook,
the Script on her mind all the while.
her face lined with years of fatigue,
her eyes, legends of sleepless nights,
she placed the evening's bread on the table
once fed and satisfied
the family went to bed,
leaving the frustrated woman to the kitchen.
finally, almost dead, she walked back to her Script,
waiting to find solace and familiarity
in her organized mess.

And her eyes widened
and her temper rose, breaking her taunt nerves,
As she surveyed the little pile of all her papers.
"Who" she yelled, "Dared to touch my papers?"
inwardly she cringed at the thought
of having to sort all over again...

And from the doorway
came a tiny, scared wobbly voice..
"I did"
the little girl stood, shaking in her bunny slippers
As her mother screamed at her
for what seemed like an eternity
her tiny eyes prickled with unspilt tears
and the throat felt like a lemon was stuck there

"Why!" her mother yelled "Why did you do that?
Why do you make life ten times more difficult!!"

"But mommie..." She trembled,
"you were tired, I just wanted to help.."

and a tear slid....
from two eyes, over two cheeks...
one, of a little ten year old,
the other, of a little thirty year old...

Something Stupid

2008-12-19T23:31:00.000-08:00

well, that is what this journal entry is....

i need to do something stupid once in a while to keep my brains in
good condition......

you know, you should try that too...... it really helps to give some
rest to your poor brain cells.

no really!! it is like party time for your over worked brain....

it can do whatever it wants,

play music at top notch volume, eat a hell a load of junk, see some
stupid movie and laugh itself silly over it, get totally drunk and
talk bullshit in high spirits, drunk call people and laugh as they go
up the wall, then take a book and try to read it and find that the
words are dancing all over the page, then getting tired of the jumping
letters, go over to the window and wonder at something silly, then
remember some long forgotten day from the golden days of childhood,
remember all the fun it had been and how close it felt to everyone....
no let downs, no backstabbing, no bitching, no heart breaks, just pure
fun and life!!!!, then start questioning where those days have
vanished, then weep drunkenly for those times, then see a baloon
floating around outside the window and giggle at it, and then sit up
with a start when it giggles back and sticks it's tongue out, then
feel a little thirsty and go for another drink, see three glasses of
vodka on the bar top, try to seize one and it dances out of reach.....
Damn!! try of the other.....Damn it!!! wonder who made these dancing
glasses and curse them.... then try for the third and it comes
readily.... take a thirsty gulp of the much awaited liquid, then hear
a voice coming from the bed room, like a soft cajoling call, go in to
find out who's gotten in there in the dead of the night, find no one
there but the bed, but the bed seems to be talking, it says it's been
lonely all day and wants company..'you mind??', then go and sit with
the bed on the floor and hear it talk about how boring it is to be a
bed, sympathise wih it, then tell it how lucky it is it never has to
face life, that it never has to nurse a broken heart or back stabbs,
tell it that it has a really nice life, safe and secure, well clothed
with a satin sheet, then it says that it can't get drunk, so just to
prove it wrong go and get two vodkas, offer one to the bed, it says it
dosen't have hands, so feed the bed some vodka, feel good about doing
a favor for the poor handless bed who's never been drunk before, hear
the bed giggle drunkenly, hear it say 'thank.....u...' and drift into
a slumber, smile and watch the sleeping bed, cuddle up to the bed as
best as possible, and sing it a lullaby just in case it stirs, and
then watch as someone comes and asks you to sleep on the bed, not
below it, tell them to talk softly, the bed is sleeping, they help you
to get up, bump your head....ouch!! then lay down on the sleeping bed,
slowly, in case you wake it , then feel a soft blanket fall on you,
the blanket wispers...'one hell of a head ache is gonna wish you in
the morning n u gonna need a truck load of coffee..... sleep now....
good night...', feel the blanket cuddle up to you, feel nice to be
sleeping with the bed and blanket for company.....and sleep it out
till normalcy returns like a sore head ache in the morning.........

ah well,

told you.....

something stupid.......

Living Stone (The Gateway)

2008-06-16T10:40:00.000-07:00

There on the ragged ocean's edge,

stands an edifice, tall and old.

Overlooking the silver in the night,

by dusk, admiring the gold.

She is the manefestation of a dream,

a lore made immortal in stone.

The crown of a long forgotten king,

the gold of a dusty forlon throne.

From her shoulders, the cloak of Time,

falls in many a satiny fold.

Perched on Her wizened high forehead

are stone flowers, eternal. Cold.

Millions of waves have cleansed Her feet,

But age hardly crumples Her countenance.

Yet those with a keen probing eye

will see the age of a thousand suns.

For years today, She has patiently stood,

and watched as the city has grown.

Like a Mother at Her child's pyre,

Like History trapped in a living stone...

~Maithili Desai

The Epidemic

2008-06-04T12:32:00.000-07:00

Down the streets, cold and grey,
Death rides with a cold heart.
No matter where she puts her foot,
Hope and Joy, all depart.

She wipes away happy smiles,
Making place for a frown.
She pluks every strand of Life,
and tucks them in her crown.

She wraps away in her dark cloak,
some summer days, never lived...
She rattles down little country lanes,
leaving all sad and agrieved.

But then Life, in his chariot bright,
With Hope and Joy comes shining.
The Streets shine with a new vigour,
not the cloud, but the silver lining...
~Maithili Desai

For You I Cried....

2008-06-04T12:05:00.001-07:00

I watch helplessly, as the sun goes down
just like I watched you go.
But the sun I know, will come again,
Of you, I never know.

It was you I loved and trusted in,
it was you I ever thought of.
But it was you who left me stranded,
and it was me you made a joke of.

Oh! the hours I spent in loving you,
the double I spend in tears.
All the dreams and hopes I ever had,
now haunt me as my fears.

I know of love, for it lives in me.
but you will never know.
You'll never feel that joy in you,
it will never make you glow.

For love is meant for gentle souls,
not for the likes of you,
who trample over loving hearts,
and bruise them black and blue.

Of me, you need not worry,
for life is kind and just.
She helped me build myself again,
with bricks of faith and trust.

I now live contentedly,
a life that is truly fun.
You, I know, will have a nasty end.
For me, life's just begun!

I know I will live and love again,
far better than i did before.
For you, I hope, someone will come,
And leave you bleeding and sore!!
~Maithili Desai

Poetry

2008-06-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

Poetry is not the juice of a fruit,
that on squeezing it must flow.
It is like a little feather,
it’ll fly, when the winds blow.

Poetry is not for the genius alone,
or only for the ones who write,
She lives in every beating, feeling heart,
she is every living soul’s right.

Poetry is not only the words,
written on paper with ink.
It is that collection of thoughts,
that you think when you don’t think.

Poetry is not just a nib,
scratching away on paper.
It springs forth from the heart,
and reaches much deeper.

Poetry is not just a string of lines,
entwined in a touching scheme.
It is the language of the heart,
to share it’s unspoken dream.

Poetry is not a ladder or crutch,
with which you reach the top.
She is the one, who stays with you,
no matter if you rise or drop.

A poetry and a poetry alone,
can tell you what a poetry is.
If you liked and understood what you just read,
well, then a little poetry this is!!
~~Maithili desai

Timeline

2008-06-03T08:06:00.000-07:00

Never put on a jewel from someone else’s crown.
Do chase your dreams but don’t be the reason for a frown.

Look beyond yourself and learn from every sight.
Keep what’s good for you; it may become your might.

Measure every word minutely, before it escapes your lips.
For you’ll be solely responsible for every heart that it rips.

Never bring home a stolen broth, even if it means hunger.
Don’t touch the hem of luck’s cloak, but hold on to faith’s finger.

If you can’t climb to the top, don’t pull down the other climbers.
Walk; strive on to your ends even as the world slumbers.

Because remember, till today,
Every word you ever spoke, every step that you ever took,
Have been neatly recorded in time’s little note book.
~ Maithili Desai

The Ideal Land

2008-06-03T08:04:00.000-07:00

There is a land,
Somewhere beyond the rainbow, where it is all peace.
All is as calm as the unhurried notes
flying from a piper’s pipe.
Some words don’t exist there.
Words like ‘hate’, ‘war’, ‘revenge’……
Words which we use here everyday,
with ease and fluency.
There is the perfume of love
In the air, constantly.
bubbling laughter graces every street.
And smiles line every by-way.
No tongue has learned
To be insulting or injuring.
No hand has ever even thought
of inflicting pain on a fellow being.
Yet, a myriad of colours exists there,
Together, complementing,
Not competing.
It is so beautiful….oh this place,
it seems like a bit of paradise….
If it could only be brought here…
~Maithili Desai

Of peace we talk

2008-06-03T08:03:00.001-07:00

Of Peace We Talk…
We talk, in our plush living rooms,
Of things like world peace.
We talk of it as we would,
Of the moon or the sun
or other things of space,
which exist but far away.
As if it doesn't affect us,
Not in the slightest manner.

As if, we become wise men
in our homes and talk of these phenomenon
like astronomers do about the stars.

But unseen by our self-blinkered vision,
Peace is slipping away every hour,
Like grains of sand from a lax fist.
And soon, when all is lost,
We won't have
the wise men’s rooms any more,
to hide into and pretend
that it is not happening to us,
but to someone
who is far from connected to us.
~Maithili Desai

Call For Return

2008-06-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

Wait!!
Hold it right there, I say to you.
Loosen your hand on that scabbard.
Sheath that sword you have drawn.
Vacate the barrels of that gun you hold.
And,
Cleanse your mind and heart
Of the hate you’ve polluted it with.

Now lay down all these corruptions
and look beyond,
at that child playing in the street.
At that youth, with his dreams.
At that mother as she watches
Over her children as they play.
And at that maiden,
Who shines with a requited love.
And at those million men and women,
Who each day live,
In the hope of seeing many such days.
Now look in their eyes,
And you will find,
An ocean of love, of joy,
Of life.

Now again I say,
Lay aside your gun and hate,
For they have made a stone of you.
Cast them away and come to us,
For with open hearts and arms,
We welcome the Lost Sheep,
If only the sheep seeks to return…
~Maithili Desai

What went wrong....

2008-06-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

A sheen less moon,
weeps silently as she watches
over the red rivers that swallow
the Earth whole
wondering, what went wrong…
How did this happen…

The sun from a distance,
frowns as he watches the plight,
as the last bits of life,
crumble and fall.
He wonders what went wrong…
How did this happen…

The stars try to twinkle
and look in vain towards the earth
to see a speck of it’s former life
but are looked back at, by Death.
And they wonder what went wrong…
How did this happen…

They had all been witnesses,
to how Destruction, had unfurled his wings
and made their Earth burn, hell like.
But yet, now as they join
the funeral procession, they wonder…
What went wrong…
How did this happen…
~Maithili Desai

I Wish...

2008-03-20T23:16:00.000-07:00

To play and run with me,
To help me climb trees,
Oh! I need for me a brother,
Who’ll bandage my skinned knees.

To encourage, boost and praise me,
Whenever I feel low,
Oh, I really need a brother,
To help me learn to grow.

Oh, I really want a brother,
Oh, I do, with all my heart,
To be my sun in stormy skies,
And tear the dark apart.

To assure and pacify me,
That the world is on our side,
I do so want a brother,
From I have nothing to hide.

To be strong and wise and helpful,
When my world is falling apart,
I wish I had a brother,
To hold me to his heart.

Someone I can lean on,
When my feet seem to give way,
When there is no trace of light,
And the dark looks ‘here-to-stay’

With me, to watch a rainbow,
When the storms are all over,
I long for an elder brother,
To be my lucky clover.
--Maithili Desai

Sunrise...

2008-03-08T12:25:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, life looks mean. Everything looks like it is on its last mile. The sun of joy sets before your eyes. Nothing seems right. All the dreams that you ever saw lay shattered before your eyes. Tears and sorrow look like sticky room mates; they never leave you alone. All that you ever seem to be doing is brood into the distant nowhere. Your thoughts run around your head in depressing circles within the walls of your skull. Your heart grows heavy with the thoughts you prefer not to recall. The sun is up but the rays don’t touch you at all. Questions on questions pound your head, but answers never make their way to you. No hope….. No glimmer of joy……
And just when you feel that your dark tunnel will never end, there is pounding on your door……………….
“Hey dude!! What’s up with you?”
It’s your pals.
“Cummon up!!!!!!! Join us!!! We’re gonna party out tonight!!!!!!!!!!!”
And up comes the sun!!!!!!!!!!

My Messenger

2008-03-03T23:01:00.000-08:00

Into the bag by my side,

my blood it flows steadily.

On its way to save a soul,

leaving my veins readily.

To my blood as it dances away,

softly I murmur a plea.

"Go now, and prove your worth,

of great use to some one you may be.

Go and rescue some poor soul,

flow in veins other than mine.

when someone has lost faith,

you flow with the hope divine.

Yet as you leave on your mission,

remember to take with you,

all those things i am proud to possess,

Love, Joy, Courage and Sensitivity too.

Fill your new home t the brim,

with a love eternal and pure.

Warm that heart when it gets cold,

make those quaking steps feel secure.

Dance in their heart, unabashed,

with life's warmth and bliss.

Lift their spirit when they feel low,

in a cold winter, be Spring's kiss.

Don't forget, on your long journey,

that you are compeled to teach,

how to love beyond barriers,

how distant hearts to reach.

Go now, and run to the aid

of a soul that needs you the most.

Go and spread my word of love,

before it is forgotten or lost.

Go now, with my eternal love,

I believe in its sacred might.

Iknow the world lies in hate's clutches...

Go now, and join the fight...

~ Maithili Desai

Broken....

2008-02-11T09:04:00.000-08:00

The rough pillow is the only one who heeds my tears.
All the smiles that had rained on me,
today turn back and lash at me as frowns
Anger and Pain, with their jagged knives
jab at my sides,
till the wounds of yester years
bleed afresh,
the earth the only cotton for them.
Hope and Faith have dropped from me,
like autumn leaves from a tree,
leaving me bare,
naked..
Mellow sunshine dodges away from me.
The scented breeze keeps its distance.
Joy, who had once danced with me
today looks back sullenly.
The dead soles of my feet lie leaden,
too dead to moan in pain.
like my soul that lies lifelessly,
somewhere.
My lips have been sewn with fine threads’
and they ask me why I don’t answer.
Frozen I lay, with a frozen world within
waiting for the impossible warmth.
But cold hands hold me,
in a lovelessly passionate grasp.
Like a hungry boarhound, tied by a leash,
Misfortune growls at me, threateningly,
eager to sink its daggers in my flesh
My broken dreams lie in a shimmering heap,
too far away for me to see.
Were they ever there?
My flight lays at my feet,
Her wings clipped,
Did she ever soar?
Love, having danced her illusion
has now gone ahead for another prey.
I had once faced the world arms wide open
to take on anything it gave.
But today, I wail noiselessly,
at the grave of My Little World,
Unconsoled,
Unheard,
Unloved,
Unknown….

From Green Lips...

2008-02-06T08:39:00.000-08:00

"I don’t want to serve you,
nor do I want to be served.
I just want to love you,
and in turn by you be loved.

I don’t ask any questions,
nor any answers do I seek.
I just love with all my heart,
the strong as well as the weak.

I wish you you would realize,
how painfull it is for a mother
to watch and weep helplessly,
as one beloved child kills the other.

It’s not easy, trust me
to be this hard on you.
To make you see the right way,
to make you see what’s true.

But I know as your mother,
it’s important that you learn
It may, sometimes be the harder way,
but it may help you to return.

Return to what I had made you like,
return from what you’ve done wrong
Return close to me, my child,
return to where you belong."
~~Maithili Desai