Colors

Did I ever dream of a life less colorful? A life in monochrome? Or in color-accent? A life like "Sin City"?
Colors are tickling of Neurons,
Or waves that emblazon,
The flowers are pretty and the sky adorns-
My glass of reddish heavenly drops.
But my life is still filled with color droplets. Who says the dreams are mundane, colorless display of electro-chemical neurotic events?
I live the colors of life-
My colors are blue in pain-
And red stains like blood-
on a white soul. And yellow-
in honey-dipped gold-
Green in trees and faces in refreshing siesta.
Black is glorious in space and perfect in elegance and grace.
I am gifted with a life not less ordinary, colors are my mirrors of joy.

The girl from tomorrow

A poem inspired by "The solitary reaper" and "The girl from yesterday"---

They went through the same way-After a long night,
And they left nobody behind.Till there was light-
Enough to shadow the darkness,They called out her name,
The moment she looked at my eyes-And evening came-
Through the trees of the dark forest,Over pale green Highland-
Where small creeks ran silver,Then she waved her hand-
She left all her neighbours,She left all her friends,
She left the lights and highland shades,She left the trees so dense.
She lent me her eyes-Through them I saw the greens,
I saw the cloud - golden and proud-And the the sky that leans-
To kiss her hand that holds horizon,And she looked at my eyes-
And they called out her name again-And she left to see the sun rise-
In some other part of the landscape-With eyes soaked in sorrow,
And she left the highland vale-The girl from tomorrow.

Bangalore-it's a (s)pity

Why do people in bangalore spit so much? Is it because of the paranoia that their oesophagus is always filled with dust and filth and they want to get rid of it by mixing it with the saliva and spitting it out? Is it because they are always disgusted about the traffic condition? Is it because they want to settle the dust on the road by drenching it in saliva? It's difficult to fathom. But it's very very annoying to see someone continuously spitting on the roads, be it an auto-driver or a cab driver or a common man or an industrialist.

When I start for office every morning, I really get irritated to see loads of spit on the roads. It looks like the whole dusty road is marked with dark spots. I really have to look at the roads and walk so that I don't step on somebody's saliva which he/she has indifferently donated to the outside world in an effort to reduce the dust in the air (perhaps). When I was a kid, I was tought in school that people shouldn't spit on roads because it might carry germs of infectious diseases which might transfer through air. I wonder whether people here get the same education in schools as I have seen so many parents walking along the street holding hand of their offsprings and spitting randomly on roads. I might be a little bit sarcastic in this statement, but it is a serious issue. I don't know the solution.

Might be the Government should take possible steps to change the habit of the common people. I have seen inside the software office campus and inside the movie theatres boards with "Do not spit" written on it. May be the same thing could be done in all the places and in hoardings and signboards by the side of the roads (it might degrade the image of the city a little bit to the foreigners, but still better than a foreign citizen experiencing the actual incident). Government can arrange some awareness sessions and enforce some law and fine if somebody spits on the road. Perhaps the Government is too busy in building 9km long flyovers (useless?) and decorating the boulevards. The image of the city and it's citigens is at stake.

A hole in the Wall

When I sit inside a centrally air-conditioned room in a cubicle before a 2GB RAM, LCD monitor, wireless optical mouse system and drink capuccino from a vending machine free of cost, do I really think of the outside world? Outside my cubicle, outside my building and outside my office premises? This very thought sounds very cliche, I know, because whenever people who do not work in software industry, criticise techies, their first weapon of attack spits fire with similar questions. But if I really think of such an issue with an unbiased mind, I can see the wall. The wall is everywhere, in every aspect of life.

When I was a small kid, I used to go to the common market with my father where the shops were merely a torn piece of jute bags on which the shopkeeper used to sit, a sheet of tarpoulin supported by two bamboo sticks and piles of vegetables and fruits infront of the shop. My father used to do a lot of bargain with the sellers and I used to be happy to see both the faces of my father and the seller smiling after a fair bargain. I don't get the same feeling in the supermarkets of Reliance Fresh, Spar or Foodworld where the shops are meant to be customer friendly. The wall is clearly seen. The techies don't bargain in their day to day life. May be because of a lot of money in their hand but an immature mind to spend it wisely or may be because they lack the skill, but it is a fact that they interact very less with the people outside their known world of cyberspace and ostentation. Even if the Autowallah is asking for an unfair price, they feel helpless and throw the money on the face of the person rather than interacting with him unabusively and making him understand that the techies are also normal people who are not meant for spending money unwisely. From a cofeeshop to the workspace, a wall is intentionally erected to distinguish the software professionals from the other people of the society. Sounds like a conspiracy theory?

The world outside is much bigger than our cubicles and still we like to fight over 10% increments is salary, night shifts, a career in management and promotions to a fictitious level which has got nothing to do with the common people of the outside world. We are confined to a monotonous lifestyle, routine works, self-inflicted pompousness and seclusion from the society of good and bad people, honest and dishonest people, known as the common people. The wall is built and we all are the bricks of it. Pink Floyd wrote it in a different context but the main aim is the same, but we won't learn. Time to drill a hole in it.