sillycon wordsmith
“Word-smithing”
Painting with words (poetry) & pictures (posters )
My second language was Tamil until 5th standard and when we moved to Bangalore, I was forced to take Hindi. Learning a-aah-e-eeh at 5th standard meant I was in a perennial catch up mode all the way until 10th. And the ICSE board meant proficiency in Hindi was expected to be of highest standard. When I stepped into the final year of school, I was filled with mortal fear. One lady ensured that I did…
In my neighbourhood an old man in tattered clothes driving a dilapidated truck is the one who comes daily to collect the garbage. Know what, he wishes me and smiles too, and does his job well. Sad that BBMP does not equip them with modern hygienic tools. Have you pondered as how it would be to live in his shoes? My creative schizophrenia continues as “I am a garbage collector” now. (#219)
I hate the bikers of Bangalore who violate every traffic rule to rule the amazing roads of Bangalore. And then is when the Aha moment occurred on “how they rule the roads”. So I set out to become that person and creatively pen down as to who I am in “I am a biker”.
Have you been stood up by a cab driver at a critical juncture? Have you experienced the taxi swerve when the cabbie closes his eyes momentarily? Have you seen bottles strewn in the neighbourhood overnight? Have you been quietly studied in the front mirror? Here is my creative take on the life of the new age Indian cab driver as “I am cabdriver”. Note : I am suffering from creative schizophrenia and here is…
In response to the poem “I am a biker” Sampath Iyengar requested me to “write one dedicated to all those rich and highly educated parents who ride the bikes to drop their kids to school to get ‘educated’ but violate every rule in the book”. Here is it as “Hollow parenting”. (#217)
Continuing my multiple poetic personalities it is now the turn of being a bus driver. Yes, we hate their pompous driving attitude, but just imagine yourself in their seat for a short while. Here is what I felt creatively, as a poem titled “I am a bus driver”. (#218)
The meaning of sacrifice is : “An act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy.” (Courtesy Oxford English Dictionary) Am truly disturbed by the senseless killing of birds/animals in the name of sacrifice, which sadly is not. One of the mindless customs that we practice without realising “that God is life and Life is God”. “All I can do is to vent by shedding poetic…
My dear friend Mohan a wonderful cyclist who after a hard brevet in the mountains of Spain who after having a few beers at a Spanish bar posted “Best cocktail ever had with beautiful bartenders at your service….” Could not resist penning a quick one for you dear Mohan ! Cheers!
The zillion hanging wires that are the bane of modern India seemed one day to communicate to me something profound which I have penned creatively as “wires” So the next time, when you see the terrible tangle in your neighbourhood, don’t be upset, learn from them!
Don’ts and Do’s so that “the heat of momentary infatuation is not confused with the warmth of lasting love, creatively expressed as a poem “growing up”.