The Pauper And The Princess

And the poetic naan-sense continues :P


Was it all a mistake, or was she indeed his life-saver?
How could he think of someone as ethereal as her!
The pauper can only dream of palaces beyond;
But alas! For him, there is no magic wand.

Her beauty was exquisite, her elegance resplendent,
A commoner’s praise could only be an affront
As she waved out to the thronging multitude;
He stayed away from the plaza, self-curfewed.

Blighted by the force of the stream, he flowed on,
What is ephemeral is not there, ‘twas long gone
Beyond the borders, the shadows lay waiting;
His plight, their opportunity; they tried baiting.

He took a pledge of not falling to the dark side,
He’d be the soldier, the person whom to confide
Honor and integrity would mark his actions;
He’d be strong and deep like the canyons.

Come rain, storm or hail,
He’d remain there for her
The rock to build on, the friend to call;
I’d be there for you.

Faces and Names

I'm feeling particularly poetic aajkal for some godforesaken reason.
Here goes the next poem then (hopefully won't be a torture):


In the nights, someone calls out to me,
I shout ‘Hark!’ Who may you be?
The face is new, the name is old;
And I am left standing, cold!

The gates open, memories flood in,
I’m moving on, is looking back a sin?
Why do past and present entangle;
Do complicate matters, my mind they mangle!

The shadows chase me, calling out my name,
I cower, hiding in the shadows, behind my shame
Wanted posters mock me, crying foul;
Making me wonder; am I human or ghoul!

Faces without names and names without faces,
They cross over without leaving any traces
I fight a battle that is lost, one that is futile;
I must complete the sentence, my solitary exile.

My Swinging Carousel

The lights have been turned down,
I’m the only one left in circus town
The neighbors revel in their carousal;
While I drive my swinging carousel.

People come, ride and go,
Giddy with adrenaline, they stagger out
While I prepare for the next show;
Bound by the dream that lies without.

The stars in the distance fade away,
As the dark night turns into day
The clowns troop in pantomime;
The show starts again, leaving me begrime.

The end of the day, the clowns are gone,
The lights dim again, waiting for the next dawn
One light remains, maintaining a lone vigil;
Driving my life, my swinging carousel.

Arbit goes to the Movies - Part Uno

One fine day, Arbit decided to watch an English movie dubbed in Hindi. For what reason, I have no idea. It's almost like committing movie-suicide. Imagine going to watch Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. The auditorium goes dark. The credits roll. Lo and behold, you are watching 'Khoonkhar Sherni'!

I still remember when Arbit had dragged me to watch Spider-man first day first show. Now, there were no shows in English. I'm one who belongs to the school of thought that thinks movies should be seen in their original languages. IF it's incomprehensible, we can always use subtitles. But there was no such luxury for us back then. So we hunkered down to watch a high-adrenaline tale. Lights dimmed, the numbers rolled back, and we were subjected to Makkad Man. Pavitra Prabhakar gets bitten by a spider, becomes makkad man, romances Meera Jain, and earns the jealousy of his erstwhile friend, Hari.

Now, all this is fine. But I don't fathom why you need to change the names of the characters! It takes away from the effect. And then there were the dubs from across the border. Some studios in Pakistan released dubs of movies in Punjabi, funny on purpose. I recommend you check them out. Spiderman and Shanghai Noon are particularly brilliant.

So, I just shuddered as Arbit went in. I could only wait for the next 2 hours.

Arbit-Lee

A few days ago, Arbit decided to learn martial arts. For self-protection, he said. With all that increasing crime rate, it would be good for him. The next day, he went and enrolled in the Chung Lee School of Martial Arts. I was not impressed.

Cynical, do I hear you say? Now, Arbit is hardly the fellow you associate with mind-numbingly high levels of concentration or dedication. In fact, he once decided to go exercising. The first day, he called me up. 'Dude, I feel amazing. I ran for 2 Kms, then did some crunches in the ground and came back home. I feel energized. Bring on the world, I say!' Two days later, he had quit. ('I'll pick it up after my metabolism increases. Otherwise I'll over-strain myself.')

So you can now see the reason for my skepticism with Arbit's new plan. Anyhow, he started going for Kung-fu classes daily. Now, real Kung-fu warriors can be very scary people. I remember that anecdote (which I believe to be true BTW) about two Kung-fu masters who were talking about their prowess.
"My reflexes are such that you will not believe," boasted Master Yo, drew his sword, sliced at a passing fly, which promptly dropped dead in two pieces. "That's nothing," said Master Da. Drawing his sword, he made two deft cuts at another passing fly. Master Yo was highly amused. "What are you talking about?" he sneered. "That fly is still flying." "Ah yes," replied Master Da, "but now it can never have children." That's a tough guy.


Arbit on the other hand, is not. So it was no surprise that when Everyone was Kung-fu fighting, he picked up a injury and rolled out of class. We were having cold coffee when he decided to unleash another round of his jokes.
A: 'Why doesn't a married man take his in-laws to a kung-fu session?'
M: 'So that they don't get hurt, or in your case, don't want them to see him get beat up.'
A: 'Nopes. Otherwise they could impose martial law.'
M: 'Shut up dude.'