How years seem longer now
They are not simple hopping of grades
and section names writen in Roman
on the labels of new books every year.
The cartoons, cars and pinkish flowers
came to be aging along with me then.
Eventually I was dissappointed
by their new avatars the next year.
Now years distend enough and give room
for lot of events making up life.
They carry with them, images of myself
in moments of varied contrasts.
I pounded coffee tables under rushing adrenalin
Learnt allusive ways to discuss sex
Formed opinions, hardened them
Became brittle, broke eventually
Tried flexibility and the associated confusion
Went to dim lit dinners in dandiest clothes
Which looking back, only a gypsy could sport.
Discussed the arbitrariness of life.
Looked back on earlier times and patted my back
that I finally grew out of myself.
Played dumb charades with my words.
Posed cryptic questions on canteen tables.
Discounted people of their years of opinions.
Got thrashed by them as my views broke like eggs.
Experienced the heaviness in heart, body and mind.
Made friends, not regretting losing others.
I read, Masters and Slaves
Of Poetry and Prose : Flying pamphlets of suffering.
I unwrapped more of the candy of life
and yes, I found poetry.
Not an eternal fount or
a Scandinavian secret spring
But a faucet of cold water
drenching me in the summer afternoon
To which destiny or its chambermaids
escorted me, after three years of merry go round.
(On May 12, 2010 this blog turns three)