Macha................aiyoooooo.....Macha.........

Macha..thumba tired agide. Phew.The heat is killing me man,This is the worst summer I have experienced.I am dehydrated every second of the day and on top of that I am piled up with a lot of work.Now, I feel the need for ice colod water,and our cafeteria does not believe in serving cold stuff.Why?so that they can save up on the ice?or on the fridge?.I dont't feel like eating anything, because everything is so heaty..curd rice to the rescue.I have never felt so steamy. It is so humid and I feel grubby every nano second of the day.

Oh boy!!!what am I to do?I wish college allowed us to come in shorts and T-shirts.I ll be the happiest person on earth then.I love you all..bye bye

Essential Mind-Brain Mind

A brush of wild, unruly hair,
flying this way and that.
Uncombed, untamed and coarse,
so, our mind is like our hair.

The mind splits us,it swallows us.
We let it govern us without fighting back.
It swings this way and the other way,
without giving us any slack.

I dance the polka,
but the mind grooves-
to the tango, swing and waltz.
Alas!I'll never know what.

The minute vessels, the lobes,
all unified as one.
We seek the footprints of our memories,
in the scanty underground.

Catalyst

Below the valleys of civilization,

lies a dark, secret untold,

Misty like the milky white, frothy-

havens, the trees whisper in solitude.

A quick flow of the breeze,

rustling the sweet nature of things.

Men hustling, women bustling,

in the fluidity of heat.

I'd like to be a catalyst,

of sweet musings and love.

Let men be free, like the soft breeze,

that passes, full of love.

Our world needs softness,

devoid of hate and lust.

Let us be free,o lord-

like a glacier of sweet, white, frost.

Chasing the "Old"

Myths,legends,legacies.
What are they?
but our past, a vivid image-
of our ancestral spirit.

We indulge in these spirits.
In sepia forms, fading away-
in the dark mists of heritage.
We chase them,like memories chase us.

Writhing in mere restlessness,
man follows his history.
He fights,strives and battles,
for a flickering mirage,his past.

Gandhi, Washington and Mr Clause.
Our ancestral idols they may be.
Politicization,ideals and fear,
is all that; there may ever be.

Journying into Nothingness

Memories hit you in flashbacks.
They drive you into-
the myriad of the past,
Insatiable days, the sweet dusky nights alone.

I delved into many pasts,
full of secrets, sly caresses-
suicidal drama and bareness,
suddenly, it's all nothingness.

Memories o memories.
They creep into your soul,
the journey to Denver and Paris-
is brought into your dome.

Visions! Hallucinations!Adoration!
They all appear in sensitive forms,
red lilies, the sweet musings,
all vanish into nothingness in all.