Skip to main content

Celebrating Differences





Why is it, O Nature,
That you decided against making replicas.
Off the same note that start and at the same note which end,
O why a different canvas.

Why did you choose to keep a few things characteristic,
I wonder why there couldn’t be a precise simulation.
Why did you deter from a canon,
That if stuck to could have aided civilisation.

Why did you paint such a lot of pictures,
Could have gone to Gates and he’d have told you about copy-paste.
Why did you need to innovate to sculpt,
Perhaps you thought against the haste.

Why did you take the bother,
Couldn’t you have taken it with a pinch of salt.
Hadn’t you ever looked at a looking glass,
If you had on civilisation why did you arrange this assault?

Why is it that even if I go years globetrotting,
I won’t see another ‘so-and-so’?
Why doesn’t to a doctor’s sight appear a retina or a fingerprint,
That’s already occurred in their record before?

Why does my anticipation of finding a pen of identical efficiency,
To the one I hold get shattered?
Why when I hope to do it with comparative precision,
Do my dreams fall in tatters?

A painter painted o so lovely a portrait,
Another in town suppressed his amazement to plainly state that he could do the same.
But efforts in vain, he ended up with a piece of art,
Whose segments in a number were distorted and the colour choice a shade too tame.

Why does the light fall on this wall and not that one too,
Distinguishing between the similarity of the colours that have so adroitly been brushed across.
Why can one not write with such uniformity,
That it’s not required to manoeuvre a cross?

The world, I realise is meant to be
A place whose confines don’t hold more than one somebody.
Someone who can draw, someone who can dance,
Someone who can do somersaults and prance.
Someone who can sing, someone for whom ‘Swing’s the Thing’,
While the pen gets going for the creative kings.


Waking up from bed, swirling is the head,
With the name of an idol ‘so-and-so’.
But the mind’s clogging gets unclogged, when I give myself the prod,
That the best person to be is me, and lo!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Clandestine

Sometimes we wait too long, To speak our minds. We let lingering truths linger, We let sporadic clocks, chime.. We allow patient seams to fritter away Like a sparrow does with the timber of the tune That she was shrouded by; shrill words tearing  Ears, each word she utters, careful, today. While the first day it was a free reign, until Some unctuous winds carried to her, criticism. Just the same way as copper utensils in a house Of steel, are anyone's delight, until bronzed,  With wear and use, both are the victims Of sundry needs and glances. Just the same way, some things, Are stowed away in careful pockets Because they have borne a lot of perusing When kept in the open.  Like love. Like hurt. Like envy. Like silence. Trust and truth are two things I can list, That are given, that are l'habitude. I tell the truth because it is, it exists, It is what I perceive, it is what I've lived.. And I keep your trust, because I've learnt That it'll help you keep mine, it wil...

The Tree Says 'Hi'

  The tree says Hi! My balcony was briefly an arboretum. Windswept leaves splayed over the floor  Like champion specimens -parts of a fine species- Careening into a welcoming sanctum That is otherwise empty- save for clothes on stands Or people on feet. When this tree paid its timely visit Luckily, there was nothing, no-one. It probably seized A rare chance- when it was out of anchor, fit and fine, In form- and the tiled floor bare. No sign of occupation. It bore its way past the metal rails that serve to Prevent our falls, but here cushioned the tree's. It rested its somber branches easily on the rail, Which is mighty strong and sturdy, as I can now discern. It snooped its slender branches threateningly over A cauldron of leaves. Green cauldron, green sorcerer. When I woke, there it was, unshakeable, unmovable. Oh, it was mobile alright. It'd have moved of its own will. It was merely enjoying its soiree in a forbidden land, Like we all do. But it just stared at me, with compo...

Predictability Plays Spoilsport

"Comfort's journey from the familiar to the unpredictable..." In the age of AI, if you are an AI Engineer like I am, you would swear by predictability. It's indispensable. We will find patterns in your genetic tree. We'll find them even in your whim of a Gulab Jamun or Barfi. We'll try to connect dots that are distant by miles. Yet, I'm here to tell you that we cannot afford predictability today. Sounds crazy and totally contradictory right? But I can be weird.   I'm here to tell you about randomness. I want you to experience it too. Well, you're smart people, readers. I may not be as smart. You know why we can't enforce patterns.   Someone will read them. Someone will exploit them.  Someone will feed them to an AI (Tool) and figure out what to do with them. You see what I mean? I'm being random. Randomness is not entirely useless.  I want to be equally random. I am stupid, gullible, naive and I'm wandering... You can say that I can be ...