GREY MATTER

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(Dada-grandfather)
It seemed as though Popoye and Bruto,
Raged in the battlefield of my hair!
Mother wasn’t home that day,
Dada had taken charge
And there it appeared,
A twisted tangled helplessly deformed braid in the mirror
It bore the look his knee joints have now,
Twisted tangled helplessly deformed.

I was late for school,
He propped me up on his bicycle.
He peddled the stretch of 33 kilometers,
With the look of a warrior,
The vigor of a 33 bones old new born.
Only that the stretch of his body
Is now sheathed in 33 creases.
‘’The secret out of the maze of mathematics’’,
He mentioned in an animate undertone,
Is to memorize tables till 12!

His life continues to crawl
Diving desperately to clutch a lungful
In the 12 bones of the rib-cage.
That day he narrated the memoir of partition
Reflecting on the history of each of the 26 states
That comprise of a land he lays his pride on
Today his thoughts pronounce in distorted words
Overlapping and entwined like the 26 bones of his vertebrae

The black of his hair
Has greyed like the front of his eyes
That poured that day
And not many of his 32 teeth remain
He doesn’t bring them to use as much, as it is
Grandmother didn’t last past their 32nd anniversary.

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To B in A World

(published in The Bombay Review Magazine earlier this month. http://thebombayreview.com/)
Hope you like it!

The process of becoming one among others (Medium: Water Colors)

The process of becoming one among others (Medium: Water Colors)

I’m B.

A once told me that two plus two is four,

I said five,

A said four,

I said five,

I asked A:

What is five,

A said one, two three, four, five is five;

I asked A, why not one two one two one is five?

Where is five? Why is five, five?

And thus began my journey into the world;

Breezy Buoyant B,

Saw A world so animated and funny,

They called a white furred, long-eared creature God knows why a bunny!

Beaten by realization B was now told,

That the big bright sun that rises in the west is east,

And what B believes to be east is actually west,

That father is not mother due to lack of breast,

That every vowel is preceded by ‘An’,

That this is called brown because of tan,

That the protrusions from the tree are roots,

But protrusions from head are hair not roots,

No, don’t object,

That five is five and four is four,

That there wouldn’t be any discussions no more,

But B battled to B like B was,

Bowling and strolling in a garden one day

B realized B was circumfenced in the garden of A

B doesn’t retain that spine,

B’s thoughts don’t spiral in A world of ironed beliefs,

B has been bent,

Broken,

Blasted,

B has been Aligned,

To exist in A world,

B will talk as you want B to,

B will walk where you want B to,

B believes what A calls fire,

Because B was burnt a few days ago.

….

At the End of the Rainbow

A splendid artist!

In Flow with Otto

Vaskerelven

Photography is under rapid development, as is the concept of what photography is. What it once used to be is no longer true; neither is how we once perceived photography. There is really no such thing as one truth. What we conceive as true is not absolute, is changing with changing times and changing from one person to another. Just think about the notion «a camera never lies.» Who believes in this anymore? Or the idea of objective reporting; that has long gone, too – at least for most of us.

Ever new developments in photography challenge the whole concept of photography. It opens up for new creative choices – is creativity in and of itself. With it comes a new way of seeing photography; old myths are buried and new understanding brought into life. That is what creativity means. Creativity is an act of defiance. You are challenging status…

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India

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Here’s my dedication to the land that spews color, disperses affection to make the other its own, so naturally that in all its tanned extravagance, one tends to overlook its underlying resolve in thought. Here’s to my land and its beauty unmatched. It pulls over you threads, most colors all at once. It demands of you to be accepting, most of all, adjusting. It, in its ugly ways, teaches you to amend, for the better or worse. It commands concern, for it was never accustomed to be in the shadow, the attention seeking over achiever that it is.

So when you see beyond

potholes

loud demeanor

extra and explicit display of affection

confusing to the-foreigner’s taste buds-food

and let the dust settled on your skin assist you for the day

it commands for you to make a decision

    to either Love it for what it is, or not for the same.

But, you ought to make a decision, because, as I told you, it was never accustomed to be in the shadow, the attention seeking over achiever that it is, in its own bitter-sweet way of course.