God, do you exist?

God, do you really exist?

Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Krishna...

are you really there in people's hearts,

do you really control all what they say you do,

or am I misinterpreting the whole thing?

I have questions, doubts and more,

are they all fragments of my imagination

or do they come from segmented thoughts

all jumbled in a space, they call the mind,

or in my case, the heart.

Social Learning! is god there because of that?

Or is he or she embedded in people's hearts

even when they are floating in ambrosia.

Thousands of people pray, they worship god,

it is surely a humble experience.

But there is also the mindless bloodshed, bloody sacrifice,

and the horrendous bombings, all to 'appease' the gods, some say.

This is what taunts me, nags at me,

day in and day out.

Belief is a choice, or a compulsion for mankind,

but how far is that belief justified?

I am tormented by these thoughts,

the answer, well it plays hide and seek.

Will I ever know?

Will all this ever make sense to me?

I wonder out loud each day,whether I'd run out of time, and never know...

Set Dhosa, Queen and lumberjack rantings.

I was sitting in Sri Raghavendra Cafe, and having a hot milk coffee and set dhosa for dinner. I was listening to Queen the whole time, and it was strangely a very soothing companion for those few minutes that I was eating. There was a vegetarian mix curry and coconut chutney, which I devoured. It is quite fascinating how good music makes even the most routine task like eating, a pleasurable one.

I was walking back, breathing in the cool night air, looking at the rather cloudy sky, feeling the cool wind brush against my skin, the music lulling me, to a hazy state.

I entered through the grilled gates, to the place I now call home, which again will be only for another 5 months and then out I venture again. I was still listening to music.

I unlocked my door, I was still listening to music...

I entered, removed my wallet and phone from my pocket, I was yet listening to music...

Here, I sat in front of my computer, again, music in my ears...Don Mclean this time.

Wherever I go, there is music. My soul replenishes it self, my body finds energy in the music I listen to, it is embodied in my mind. My father played the guitar and sang for me when I was floating in amniotic fluid, and thereafter, a major part of my life, it was all music.

Music... It lives in me, it nurtures me.

A Beckoning Call

A child, I lay

In waters warm,

the outside world,

feeling small.

Two beautiful souls,

with love they pledge,

a secret long gone,

a mystery, it’ll remain.

Red sparking water;

splashing around me,

as I am yanked out,

realms of destiny.

A daughter of lies,

a child of sorrow,

in a brown coir sack

knot tied, I am thrown,

into rivers of doom,

floating, drowning and swirling,

I land up on a distant shore,

yearning for love, a warm close hug,

a mother, to say ‘Amma’ to.

High stone-faced walls of dread,

grilled gates of unacceptance,

pulling me back, from my little world,

now they bring only chocolates, ‘eat my little girl’.

They don’t want to play, no touch, no saying,

a simple hello, or an I love you,

I am left to wither and wallow.

I am a child, a girl, a daughter, of mother HIV.