My tryst with wordsmithing
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”.
After Mohan drank, I wrote a poem on which Karthik commented “Ash-ji you should have had been poet instead, high time to think over it”. Mohan’s nasha crept into me then and triggered the question in me as to who I am. Here is a creative take on it as “who am I”. Mohan got high on the bartender, I got high on the beers and Karthik enjoyed the show 🙂
Not too long ago, in New Thippasandra opposite my house was a tree lined avenue with 67 wonderful old trees. One day they were all cut to widen the road to add two bloody lanes which still continue to remain jammed everyday. Now the BBMP has its eyes on the Indiranagar BDA complex re-development and the old beautiful trees there are threatened. Activists and tree huggers protested a few weeks ago, but who knows what…