Skip to main content

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 will help
Us trust when we'd like to embrace the world,
Arm on its shoulder, when most of it has 
Slumped into Quasimodo-like impassiveness.
And it will help us be trusted, when most
People are subjecting us to scrutiny
Not the boring-under-a-pince-nez-kind-
More the nerve-racking 
Flitting-over-because-you're-unreliable, kind.

But I tell the truth each day, keep and build trust,
Every minute. So it becomes burnished rust
On blemished iron. When left in the open,
It thrives, but exasperates. So I wish to clean
It right off, imagine how the iron would
Look if I polished it a bit. I want to 
Stow away the Established and toy with
The Forbidden. I want to let lingering fade,
Sporadic clocks stop, and the sparrow,
Enjoy her daily song on the reeds of 
A comforting wind. 

I want to break out 
Break free
Out of the routine,
The accepted, the understood,
And traipse with ol' taboo
Until I can convince myself
(And I know it won't take long)
That unconventional is too conventional,
And so may I please return,
My sense of adventure satisfied,
My thirst for rebellion quenched,
To the Garden of Eden,
And not touch flower, forget
Forbidden fruit..

Image Courtesy: https://favpng.com/png_view/bird-bird-sparrow-silhouette-png/PN7FV55W

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What the New Year Means to Me

 What does the new year mean to me? I don't know.  I think it just means that I can give myself another chance to try, fail, succeed.   I think it means that I can spend time with family, differently this time. I think it means that I can connect with people and with myself, in new ways.  I also think that it gives me a chance to see things with a different lens. The kaleidoscope becomes a periscope. I don't know what else. Every year, I put on a new pair of goggles. Every year, I grow, whether I try, or not. Some things may work as I had expected them to, some may not. But who knows?  I will allow myself to be Novak Djokovic in my arena, who hears his name when the crowd cheers for Nadal or Federer. I will allow myself to be Rafael Nadal, who always has a plan, no matter how bleak or bright things may seem, and sticks to it. I will allow myself to be Roger Federer, who glides in, serves, plays and walks out, all in grace and style. I will allow myself to b...

(How I Wish) People Were Like Poems

Today, I wish people were more like poems.  A sad truth is dawning on me.  I can't just be. Most things just are. No proof required. No justification. Here I feel like an instance Of a class. Some kind of template  With some methods Instantiated. Many of my methods are public. Others comment on them. If I encapsulate, They pry. If I am abstract, They talk. What's going on? I'm not going to plead any more. I'll just shut all the doors. Make all the methods and variables private. Too many people tampering with the balance of it all. Our lives are not portraits or leaflets to hand out. Media often makes us feel so, but existence is way older, Authentic and organic- than the glitzy hood of social media. Human beings, like plants, need space, nourishment and nurturing To thrive. Are plants dependent on these things? Can they not stand on their own roots? They can, and they do. But you cannot neglect  The environmental variables that make them happen. So don't comment on ...

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 ...