On life and its vagaries

Archive for the ‘Life situations’ Category


leave a comment »


Startled awake in the dead of night, I sit up dazed on that rickety bed. The room was dark; my roommate a silhouette on the far cot, there was rain and the weight of the night in the air. And as I turn the lights on I see something I would ever remember in life. My friend, who boasted of the palest of skins, had turned black; there wasn’t spot on his face that wasn’t dark.

He was deep in dreams, and so I didn’t trouble him, but carried my bed outside to be discarded.

In the morning, back to his usual pale skin, he shakes me awake from my slumber on a crumpled spread of news papers on the floor.

Why? he asks

Why what?

The bed. Outside. You. On the floor.

I shudder.

Well, sheik, it wasn’t exactly like this. Yet there was the night and there was the rain……..

Terrible calamities of nature.

And you, with your face the color of pitch.

He bristles.

I am not black, damn it. I am white, but you, you envious dog, are definitely dark. And I won’t take that back.

I wasn’t talking about the color of your pretty skin, you egotistical idiot . Can’t you imagine an event where your hot skin might turn black?

He spent some time in intense rumination.

The dark could do that to me.


And my dear sis . She could paint my phiz black.

Ah, the sweetness of a sister’s love.

Love never fails son, love never fails, but why was my face (He lets out an involuntary shudder) black?

Why would you think?

Couldn’t be….. that’s impossible…. bugs?

He shivers.

Would they dare touch you?


We both spent the rest of our nights in that lodge on the bare floor and on a bed of newspapers. Those were the only lodgings we could afford on our students stipend.

We are at least making good use of words. He says sometimes

Well, make use of this one then, I would prompt:

Darkness At Mid Night

I am covered on that one pal I didn’t discover them, you did. That’s why we are on a bed of words.

The best bed ever.

Why do they hate the lovely words?

The bugs?

Who else

No idea, may be they are students of Andre Gide or Ivan Illich ?

And who ever those might be?

Distant cousins of Abelard, Peter, I think

Don’t get smart with me, now

Would that add to my smartness?

And so we would drift off to sleep.


Written by Sam

July 11, 2012 at 1:37 pm

Posted in Life, Life situations

Tagged with


leave a comment »

That I just spoke with you, isn’t quite enough
To make me trust you my friend of an evening
The bus we rode to this junction, you’ll admit
Isn’t a fit environ where likings are formed
If you see me walk away without even a nod
At you at the nearing bus station
Don’t feel bad, for you also know,
That we live in a cruel world
And it isn’t one of our own making

Your face seemed wan, and a little over tired
I had even sensed a deeper weariness
That was behind, we know sorrow
When we see it, aren’t we all human in the end

You may be in dire need of food or shelter
But one thing seemed distinct, you needed
A friend to talk to, yes, who can miss the signs,
I could have helped you there, if you were not you
A stranger I met on a ride to my home town

You wouldn’t do anything drastic I hope
That would be bad on my conscience,
And there is the law sadly to worry about.

I remember cracking a few jokes with you
On our rough ride over the country roads
(How ludicrous the actions of our leaders seem
As one suffer their consequences in life)
And the pleasant and sad smile that
Seemed natural in you, a very moving smile,
I am a little envious of that smile I‘ll admit
And the words you spoke shone curiously with
The freshness of sincere feelings that
I myself sadly seemed to lack

Yet friend, penury is a vice I can’t seen be with
It would bring me down in my mind and
In the minds of others too, that is
A terrible sin in our small world of lucky souls
So forgive me for walking away, ignoring the strange
Urge to befriend you, at this time of your peril

I am only human
I have students waiting at home

Written by Sam

July 8, 2012 at 6:56 pm


with 2 comments


Listening to bird
Calls at night, I remember
Not to forget

Written by Sam

July 1, 2012 at 6:13 pm


with 2 comments



I saw, by chance, a
Smile on a sad face; why seek
Peace in futile words


The rudder seems new,
The Boat, about to take off,
What ails the slow breeze


The skies remain veiled
After a day of dogged rain.
Mirrors seem to cloud

To An Unknown Friend

with one comment

To An Unknown Friend

Stay a while, my friend and stranger
The day is still meandering, and there’s still time
Those drinks you had, how are they faring
Does the mind tell you where I am now, near or far
The disheveled hair on your head, is it painted
Or are you yet young at heart to outgrow the Time
The way you walk, never steady and in control,
Does that affect you in what you see
How does the world look, flat or round
Does it look twisted or covered in glamour
When do you sleep my friend, or do you not
Is there a sleep that helps you dream

The world is passing us, the children laughing
Horns honking, footwear grazing the side walks
There isn’t a thing still, all are moving

While we sit here, on this lonely bench
By the side of this antediluvian road
There are flowers blooming, lots emptying
Pans frying, fans whirling and some even hooting
Things are ever frantic, let us be not like that
Let us sit here, till the close of day
Why are you drooping, hold your head steady
We aren’t done talking, my man, you and I
That stain on your shirt, does that sting friend
Did the potion spill into your soul
Is that why you are looking at me fearfully
Don’t be frightened, I am not your darkness
I can be the light you were seeking in your nights

This drizzle, it isn’t from heaven, it’s the tears
That you and I shed together, may be not here
Nor anywhere, but still we shed them together
For we aren’t divided, we, you and I, are ever together
That sagging chest holds a thousand terrors
The drinks can’t still them, they garrote the drink
Don’t get up, you can’t yet walk, I am here my man
Though I don’t even lift a hand to make you steady
I am here still, with you all the way

Stop looking at those happy faces, embraces, and kisses
They aren’t real friend; they are off a passing show
You had partaken in that show once, as I had
They are bland, at least to us sitting here
You are now muttering assent, I see your lips move
Don’t wipe those dribbles off; they are droplets of your pain
You aren’t wagging your head to the music now
Are you, the music stall across is what this is all about
Noise, more noise, there isn’t a lapse to the noise
It blares day and night, winter and summer, burial and birth

She could be your girl, the one approaching
I see I was right, she isn’t happy with me
And is abusive towards you, you are doing great, old girl
He is drowning in your love; we were having a nice talk
About just that and he was doing good
Now you cart him away, with bitter looks at me

Fare thee well my friend, you can’t drink
This sorrow away, for it has claws of steel.


with 4 comments


Denizens of the underworld rooting for his life is a dormant psyche’s mistaken and muted wail.
Before hand
By a mind tortured to the extreme by inner conundrums -with the imprint of harsh reality on fantasies and ever reducing the zest to live, combating gips were being thrown out in the guise of barely fine-spun imagery.
Those were gruesome, and never ever were handsome, aiming to center on the not so winsome. Quips created to while away the ever ascending OF terrors of life.

By the macabre purchase of quaint expressions brave the world?
By and by that domain was overtaken by inanition.

Crossing A River

with 5 comments

The Original Story


“Two mendicants, having taken a vow of celibacy

 Were about to cross a river


A pretty lass was about to do the same

But was looking with fear at the rushing waters


The young mendicant suggested that

 One of them carries her across


The old guy said:


Son, we have taken a vow

Of celibacy, we can’t do such things


The other Said:


We have only taken

A vow of not marrying, not one of Not Carrying


The old guy Said:


 Do what you will


The three got across and went their ways


After a while the old guy grumbled:

Yet you shouldn’t have done that:


The young one responded:


I deposited her on the shore itself

Strangely you seem to be still carrying her!”




( This was the old tale. Yet what happened was this):


The Real Story


The old guy

Seeing the younger one quite set on carrying her across

And grasping the dangers of bodily contact

Volunteered to carry her saying:


 Just watch our rear, when we are in the waters


They proceeded thus to the other side

The girl turning her head to look at the boy often

And the boy blushing when their eyes met


Water being a fine conductor of nervous energy

Their rapport was instantaneous


At the far side, after thanking the old man

They both took off together


The old guy, watching them disappear

In the distance, mused:


When you carry something precious

You either don’t put it down

Or you make sure that it stays yours

Before doing so