Can I go back?

Oh! can I go back, can I go there again
To that time, treading backwards in memory lane
When there was no leash on my spirits
Uninhibited I dwelt on my dreams and wishes

I walked barefoot on the dewy grass
Feeling the caress of the droplets and blades
Thoughts of bugs and dirt never crossing my brain
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

I reminisce the feel of first drops on the face
The smell of the mud, surroundings in a haze
Jumping in the puddle without a care in the rain
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

I strolled by the sea shore out-running the wavelets
Chasing the tiny crabs, looking for the conches
Lazing on the beach building castles of sand grain
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

Treading to school in uniform and shined shoes
Endless classes and the much awaited lunch breaks
Games and exams, each inflicting an enjoyable pain
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

The home I adore was livened by sister's chattering
Mother's loving care and father's stern discipline
Our dog was the prince and cat reigned as the queen
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

I yearn for those times, I long to re-live
I dream of yesterday, great joy they give
I desire to merge with memories, there my heart is lain
Oh! can I go back, can I go there again

Ode to Sachin Tendulkar

Of film stars, I have never been a fan

Models? I don't really give a damn

Saints, I like them in their heaven

Sportsperson? Yes, it's Sachin Tendulkar

And I have lived watching this little master

I was a kid and so was he

Very soon the world would see

His growth from a mere boy to a man of might

From his blade came forth many a glorious sight

I lived, mesmerized, watching him shine in the limelight

His prayers to heaven as he walks in to bat

Examining the pitch, gently giving it a pat

The fire in the eyes, the biting of the nails

His dedication and the child like enthusiasm

I lived, in love, watching his every little mannerism

'He plays like me' said Sir Don Bradman

Warne said, 'In my nightmares Sachin's the man'

A frenzied nation, cricket the religion, God this man

The country's victory dependent on his game

I lived, ecstatic, watching him rise to great fame

His shoulders for a decade carried the burden

On his small frame, hope of the people laden

His back went out, his elbow followed

The weight of expectations, too much of a strain

I lived, anxiously, watching him fight his pain

Two decades gone, he is still very much there

The oldest in the team, experience lots to share

These days his inclusion almost always a doubt

Soon the curtains may fall on the genius' game

I live, knowing, that moment my heart will maim.

Evening Enlightenment

Sitting atop the roof of the penthouse

I take a glance at the sights around me

Waiting for the sunset, tickled by the breeze

Birds flying home to nestle in their tree

The vastness of sea, the expanse of the sky

Both seemingly meet at the distant horizon

Providing a canvas for the sun and the clouds

To paint a picture that stole all my attention

Caught in the moment, I did stare and gaze

And marvelled at this colourful maze

The shifting clouds, the rays of the sun

The water, the wind, having one last fun

The exhibition ended, the night set in

The sky was dark, but stars sparkling

The ships outlined against the dark water

Quiet settling in, the need of the hour

Enlightened, I walked back into the house

My disquiet of the day being doused

If tomorrow be another troubled day

To the roof I make my way

Peace within

I close my eyes deep in thought

Wondering about the peace I sought
When suddenly, I was wandering free
And standing under this blossomed tree
The flowers so heavenly and baby pink in hue
And it's fragrance the gentle wind blew
Ensnaring my senses and ensconcing my mind
Transporting me into blissful solitude beyond
The reach of my desire and the reach of greed
The truth dawned on me, the one sought by my creed
The peace I seek is buried deep within me
And if I so will, the mind will set it free

And so it begins...

Picking up the pen, or rather, typing something other than stupid code full of bugs or a silly grocery list was the hardest thing that I have had to do till date. Well, not really. Getting married was the hardest. I have been thinking about writing for a long time now and suddenly, actually two days ago I realised that I was not thinking of acting on this thought. Some wise man once said actions speak louder than words. So here I am, using words to show that I'm finally acting on writing my thoughts, enclosing them withing the boundaries of a page, giving some semblance to an otherwise invisible entity. 

I believe I should begin by thanking the forces that helped me pick up the pen. Vikram. My brother. I admire his writing, his ability to become one with the subject and the honesty that comes forth in his writings. Admiration turned to adulation and now I am a fan trying to emulate him. Then there is Rithish, Vikram's friend or should I say his 'Blog brother'. I am a keen follower of his articles and it's amazing how he puts an interesting spin even on the most mundane activities he sees around him. Last, but not the least, there is Akshay. Another brother of mine. I wrote a testimonial for him on Orkut and guess what? He liked it and his reaction kind of slapped awake the hope of writing and I suffered a testimonial writing frenzy for quite sometime. These are the people who have inspired me and if I can continue to churn out something half as decent and interesting as theirs, I'll forever be grateful to them. Having finished with the thanks giving formality, I must state, and emphatically too, that if you find my writing intolerable, offensive, annoying or just plain torture, you now know the three who are to be blamed. 

Phew!!! Two paragraphs. Not a bad start I guess. I was scared that I would hit a writers(can I call myself that at this stage?) block even before I started. I seem to have survived the initial shaking of fingers, biting of the nails and scratching of the head. I agree I had to stop short of screaming out aloud for the lack of a topic or subject to massacre on paper (textpad actually) but, this was mostly due to the fear of being kicked out of the rental apartment on charges of excessive noise and causing disturbance to neighbours. Writing about absolutely nothing has been fun today. I'll try my hand at a genuine subject sometime soon. Until then, I'll just wait for 

my finger nails to grow back to their normal length and dream about qualifying as a (dare I say it?) writer.