Literatures

I was sitting at the corner of Cowper and University, when a red Corolla pulled in, windows down A black man shouted, "Yo, where's EPA, man?" I looked into his eyes, ignoring his smirk. Where's East Palo Alto? It's in your face. It's in the dents of your car It's in the backseat where you're clothes are Because some yuppies bought your house for a rent that's twice your monthly income. Where's East Palo Alto? It's in the jails of this country, It's in the blood on the pavements It's under the sheets in the morgue. Where's East Palo Alto? It's behind the counters at the ice cream shop, It's in the old eyes of the young girl who hasn't slept in days To pay the bills of an education loan that promised a job but didn't. Where's East Palo Alto? It's 9-5 in the corridors of your office. PM to AM. When you can't see their faces, and the abuse they face. Where's East Palo Alto? All I could say was, down the road, The one all of us are on. To which, he replied, I know man, just playing with ya.

It's a Friday evening, when you hear, the careless whispers Looking around, bewildered, you see but a cat's whiskers Turning 'round the bend, to find a voice you swear you'd heard, The street is empty, save for a fence and its lonely lonesome bird Walking solemn, walking slight, a crackling cackle gives you a fright Yet, behind you there is naught a sight? Turn around, whence you came, sprint a sprint, for walking's lame, And as you stop to catch your breath, there's only silence upon your wreath. Shut the door and door the shutters, no more will you be troubled by its stuttering stutters. And when the night is nigh, beneath your covers, sigh a sigh. In your dreams you'll see the truth, and make believe what was, was for sooth! What made the murmurs murmur, was just the zoo's giant le(r)mur And the mumbling mumbles, oh, a baby with the grumbles Only one thing could've made those cantankerous peals, the laughter, it must've come from the circus seals! Now that that's been put to rest, it's time this mattress was put to test!

With neither a whimper nor a bang, but the steady accumulation of "stuff" Encroaching on all things. With a pang, surrounded on four sides, we cannot rebuff and must accept at long last: A marriage is happening and is already almost past. For the joyous occasion of my brother’s marriage.

Hark ye the fall! And minutes drop from high They twirl and twang as they gently settle and quietly amongst their friends rustle and remember till winds blow them aside.

These white shoes were a terrible idea; they didn’t stay white for long. Look, how mud encroaches from the sides, advancing its hidden campaign every day. Soon, I will be surrounded, and with no Russia in this young rubber to keep wear at bay, it’ll be an easy victory. But while they last, these shoes feel good. And they came cheap. 4 minutes into this run and I can already see the future. It happens as I caress the soft dirt below me, feeling the slightest undulations through my thin soles. Life is full of ups and downs, what matters is how you approach them. Am I tilted forward at the right angle, or are my priorities askew? I should have bent my knees there; it’s easier for me to land through the heel but ten years from now, I’ll regret taking the easy road. I am my harshest critic and most intimate confidante at once. With every step, the ground brushes against the crystal ball at my feet, and all that I will yet feel is laid bare before me. ...

(Dedicated to a Monsieur Le Coq) You stand here, solemn, silent, by my side, Whispering softly of a time gone by; The waves of could’ves flow in with the tide, The wind murmuring should’ves with a sigh Somewhere in time, unknowing, unheeding, uncaring, it was I who jumped ship, making instead, a choice of warmth temporary, more comforting then than this, the narrow river of reason you tread. Your lines were sharper, your principles ever more principled in a singular face. Mistaken, was I, that they our thread would sever, while forgetting all those decisions misplaced. ...

There is, bubbling inside me, Something I must tell you. But you seem busy; I’ll wait, no worries, It’s just a matter of timing, you see, And patient waiting is no stranger to me. What needed doing is finally done, The ships have set sail. In the twilight, You seem tired, justifiably so. I’ll wait, no worries, The bubbles can bubble over - Nothing I haven’t handled before Waves come of the morning tide, Wash ashore dead wood, left at sea; In your eyes, distress I see, Tell me of the distant shores As I push you adrift knowing, One day, you’ll come back for me ...

“Is it not love that knows how to make smooth things rough and rough things smooth?” – Vikram Seth, An Equal Music Honestly, I never imagined reading Vikram Seth - I’ve had a lot of people, including my mother, criticise him, particularly for “Suitable Boy”. Luckily, Amrutha Whatsherlastnameits convinced me otherwise, and I’m rather grateful for that. I can’t remember a more beautifully written book. The following does have some plot spoilers, but that takes little away from the beauty. ...

Let me admit that I have somewhat of a crush on Haruki Murakami. I so wish I were capable of writing this review in his metaphorical meter and cast upon you such a spell that you would be compelled to question your existence without having read Murakami. He is simply a fantastic story teller, and even though his stories have no real point, no true conclusion, you are drawn in and captured. He never preaches, there is no stated moral, yet, at the close you find yourself certain that there was something profound you missed. In searching, you take a meaning that is truly yours - perhaps there is no other true path to profundity but self discovery. And that is Murakami’s magic; he writes a story in the surreal, in a crazy way that can never be part of our lives, yet that connects on a deeply personal level. And so, the stories stick, floating around in some metaphysical way. ...

Many would have probably either seen the movie, or the animated series on TV (I loved both); the book is slightly different, but totally worth reading (I have to thank Sir Varun Joshi for the recommendation). Written by an ex-army man, this is a thrill ride in book form. Packed with good comraderie, honour, heroism and all the other good stuff, the book is an excellent stimulant, and will leave you “on the bounce”. ...