Thursday, February 16, 2012


There you are peeping
From behind the speakers
What are you looking for?
Did the music bother you
Should I play something else
Something maybe more peppy?

Or something soft and soothing
Like a lullaby
And you can go back to slumber
From which I’m afraid I disturbed you.

Maybe you mother is anxious
And looking for you on some other desks
She too peeping
From behind the jungle of laptops and speakers

Are you not scared?
Here on this desk all alone
A little thing
Next to my booming speakers

Go home Lizzy
To where you belong
And in your lizard world
Maybe you can make your own song!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


Last night I discovered something which gave me my excitement for writing back! I was opening and going through my cartons of books packed during my last shifting. As it is, I find the exercise very nice, opening the boxes, sifting through books – some which I had thought as lost, some I would like to read again, some I had altogether forgotten I owned. Is it not the most joyful thing to swim in the pool of books and come out with new or rather old finds! The musty smell of old books, the crisp pages of new books, the oldest books with yellowed pages, their spines so soft that I find myself stroking them before I coax them open just so much that the pages don’t fall out. I even have an ancient copy of Catch – 22 (I must tell you I don’t lend it to anyone). It is so old that each and every page is separated from the binding. I have kept it in a small box and each page has to be picked, read and kept back in the cover. I am so crazy about that book that I had bought 2 more copies so that I can lend those to people who ask for Catch – 22 instead of my dear old torn one.

Coming back to my boxes, I had gone on a re-arranging spree last night which led me to opening the boxes and diving into them. And I discovered this notebook filled with stuff written in Hindi and because the note book was full, there were additional sheets of paper from some other notebook attached at the end.

It was my own Hindi translation of George Orwell’s Animal Farm. I find it hard to explain what I felt when I found that notebook. I had done this translation in 1994. I was (as compared to now) a kid then. And I had inexplicably undertaken the daunting task of translating one of the “ten books of the century” into Hindi. I leaf through the pages and see the conviction and dedication, the discipline that I claim to no longer have. And I think to myself, if back then, I could throw myself into such an activity, why can’t I do the same now? I had even translated the songs in the book and my stanzas rhymed!

I have decided to keep that book handy all the time for the way it inspires me to try yet again, to write yet again.

And I will.