Rat Tails and Tahrs

In the lap of the hills,
Beside a lacquered stream
Where the bison roam,
In the full moon's gleam;

Dwarfed in natures beauty
Small humans we walk,
Play and swim and climb,
Take time, 
To stop and gawk.

Stare down a haughty cliff
At water that looks like sponge
To jump, or not to jump,
Don't ask…
Close your eyes and take the plunge.

Traversing back...
As we hop, rock to rock,
Our noses sniff the air,
The smell of heaven,
Wafting from the crock.

Pancakes and curry,
And caramel treats by the fire,
Fried little fish, and
Stories by a squire...

And thus time flew,
In tranquil bliss,
In the sun's mighty blaze,
Or the full moon's kiss,

And now were back…
To a Kodi winter haze,
Longing again,
For those Tahr Camp days…

This year, the end of the hiking season was marked with the annual high school Tahr Camp for those staff and students who completed their Tahr Pin requirements.  Meticulously arranged by Barbara Block, twelve students and four chaperones headed into the Rat Tail Falls region, armed with back packs and good cheer for three days of hiking, swimming, cliff diving, scrumptious improvised meals, stories, and sleeping under the magical gloom of a full moon…

Test the Water

These days,
Rain comes hurtling
In my general direction,
Like arrows from a cruel bow.
I fend them as best
As I possibly can, but
When you join the quiver,
I am crestfallen.
My courage wanes
And tears choke me.


But my love triumphs.
For I know:


If you are the rain,
Then I am the lake.
You make me who I am,
You are a part of me.
Whether you are
Warm and gentle,
Or harsh and heavy,
Or sleet and hail,
My body will always
Embrace you as you fall.
For without you,
I would not be me.


And together,
We are sublime.

Breath and Fog

As I rest my warm cheek

On the cool pillow,

I imagine it is your bosom.

I trace my fingers and

Imagine it is your arm,

Goose bumped by the cold

And my breath on your ears.

You let out a soft groan

As you squirm and shift

And I bury my face deeper,

Inhaling deeply your scent.

I kiss you and you sleepily

Push my face away

Crooning my name.

Then your hazel eyes open

And you stare at me mysteriously;

And I wonder

How can I not help but

Be in love with you?

My Favorite Place

Of your mind, your face,

Your panache, your grace,

The crook of your neck

Is my favorite space.

It tastes so true

Striking the root of my base,

That when you’re gone, I feel,

Damn, I really miss that place…

Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?

There’s the great pita,

There’s the great white,

One you eat,

The other eats you,

If you haven’t figured that out,

You’re not too bright.

Swaying

In the gentle breeze
And a soft drizzle,
With smooth polka sunlight
Streaming through the foliage,
You and I,
In a red cocoon,
Entangled in an embrace,
An approving twang rang
As our lips touched.
Thoughts and questions?
What need have we for these?
All is bliss, all is bliss.

Peylooshe [1]

It was the penultimate day,
The day before the end,
When we were all,
Destined to cease.


Then
I caught your eye,
And we were lost
In a cascade
Of hair and arms and backs;
In the joy of being
One.


Sounds drowned
People stood still.
We lived a lifetime
Between heartbeats


In that moment.
Freedom didn’t
Come at a price
You waited for me
In the valley of Death
And I gladly rode to my doom
Into your arms.


The world exploded
Around us
But Mother held us in the
Palm of her hands
The world ended,
But we were quite calm
For together
There is no fear,
Just the warmth of a
Peylooshe.


[1] Peylooshe is defined as a state of being in a permanent, warm, comforting, and loving embrace.

Weather-Shether

My room 
Is completely dark at noon,
Massive storm clouds
In the horizon loom.


Are they what
My mind has wrought?
Controlling the weather?
I think not.


For what reason should I
Want my sun be blot?


The earthy smell
Of the rain.
Washes away a
Very human pain.


Pitter, patter
Pitter, patter
All your shackles,
I’ve come to shatter.


The rain you see
Is really me,
It’s only my arms,
That will set you free.

The Gloom of the TV

In a dark, empty room

There is only

The gloom of the TV.

It is late,

But I write because

Sleep escapes me.

A happy memory and a

Half-filled thought,

Reminds me how

Your face would look,

Bathed in,

The gloom of the TV.

And if you heard me

Say these words,

Your eyebrows would arch,

And your lips curl,

I would melt,

And all would be right.

By The Horns

See me,
Let me see you,
Make the world
In our heads real.


For the time we
Won't have tomorrow,
Make today,
Eternal.

The City Burnt Brightly

Raging towers of inferno

Swirled in an ashen night sky.

Trees looked angry as smoke

Bellowed from their fiery crowns.

Buildings crumbled,

Engulfed in columns of fire.

The billowing ash made the moon

Seem cold, blue, and distant.

Scorched earth and hot sand

Burnt the naked soles of my feet.

The city burnt brightly behind me

As I waited for you at the pier.

Panic swept across

The ordinarily serene harbor.

People ran frantically.

Men and women and children

Families, friends, and lovers

Dashed to the nearest boats

To rescue their

Hopes, dreams, and fantasies.

I waited for you at the pier

With nothing else,

But the memories of us together.

As the boats began to fill,

Mad men threw themselves

Into the murky toxic waters

To swim for the distant shore

I watched in wonder and

Lamented their fall, and

I stood there waiting at the pier,

Wondering where you are.

What lengths we go to escape?

Fight the choking hand

Of Fate and Destiny we might.

But there is no relief

From this mortal coil

If you are not here tonight.

All the ships had sailed away

And I still waited for you at the pier

I stood there alone

As the city burned brightly behind me.

You never came,

But I still waited for you at the pier

Hoping you’ll rescue me,

As the flames danced in closer.

A Fool's Voyage

I will sail my ship

Against the raging sea.

I will steer between

Scylla and Charybdis,

Battle one-eyed demons

And challenge night terrors.

I will fight sea monsters

And seductive sea nymphs.

I will dance with danger

And risk against my instincts.

All to come back to you;

So I can drown,

In your harbor.

Come With Your Sorrows

Come with your sorrows.

Your back hunched

Bearing the weight of this

Dire and wicked world.

Come with your pain.

A contorted face,

So small, dry, and weak,

Tired of the masks you wear.

Come with your jaleb.

A soft ringing laugh

That echoes around,

Long after you purse your lips.

Come as Yourself.

With a pocket of dreams,

And all your misgivings.

I will still be here, always.

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

I will squeeze your hand
When you are scared.


You will feel my touch
Even when I am not there.


I will stand beside you
But cast no shadow.


Don't be afraid of the dark
I will be your Jesus.


I ask for nothing in return
But your love...

The Folly of Wearing Neckties

by James Head

Every time I tie a tight and twisted tie
about my throat
I cannot help but laugh and cry
at such an action, such a rote,
for though I know that it's for a show
no longer to protect the coat
or shirt it still seems rather pert
for something once designed for dirt.

And so I use a handkerchief
when messily devouring beef;
Spaghetti sauce is often lost
and ruins silken cloths embossed,
and so I bring a baby's bib
should I decide to try a rib.
I roll up my sleeves and pin my cuffs
trying not to soil my ruff.

And it seems so absurd to me
that possibly - in a century -
humankind may live to see
a tissue (made not to be used through
normal means of wiping a face)
assume a prim and proper place
upon the necks of well dressed gents
who drape some dreary barber's capes
about their napes in order to collect
the wayward contents of their p(a)lates.

(The necktie was actually invented in Coratia as a means to stop food from falling on your shirt while eating...)

Puzzles

Just in case,
If you're the queen of California, baby,
LittlePrince, wat a nite,
Screw aristophanes.

What's there to do in Champaign?
Smoke pot, listen to floyd and phish,
They say if you love something let it go...
If it comes back it's yous...if it doesn't...shoot it!

Tu Me Queries,
Planning to take the world by storm, watch out!
Anger is a gift,
Because i am a devil without a cause.

Franky just thinks he's Irish,
God...I love you
Israfel is gone,
*insert wise crack here*.

La belle dame sams merci,
Life is a waste of time,
Only fools rush in... sigh,
So, it's over?

I have a black-hole where my creativity should be,
Some people say I'm insane, so I kill them.
Still goin on...and will never stop,
Tally ho what, what?

The world is a blister but i'm ok with it.
All my bags are packed,
I'm ready to go,
Time to fade in black.

Three Bad Poems

Stephanian Winter
In the concrete Serengeti, the meeting season had begun.
The day was marked by raucous calls of prospective meets.
They fell on deaf years.
At night, little Timmy relieved himself by the lamppost
And sniffed a stray burning Navy Cut butt.
He had to be fast, the dew would extinguish it soon.
The Ritz at one end of town, bustled.
There were no seats left – you had to book yours.
The Oberoi had lost a lot of business lately.
Ski-masked terrorists lurked in dark corners.
The cold had taken a toll on them.
Their heaters blew the fuses. Darkness. Time to strike.
Lazy men sat in wasted old-age homes
Drinking vodka without caviar.
That was the thrill of it…
Jokers in dark suits, boots and ties were laughed at.
The jokers laughed when the act was over.
They stopped laughing when they had to pay the taxi bill.
A white Esteem rolled out of the gate at night.
The crowd screamed in delight:
Elvis had left the building!



Rickshaws in Europe
Rickshaws in Europe
Is that too much to ask for?
Their frail axle is susceptible
In the moon surface of Kamla Nagar:
You bounce, jump and jiggle in your seat.
Suspension, non-existent…
The roads of Europe are smooth and clean –
Smooth as a Basu’s head.
You don’t need a fishbone suspension
Rickshaws are perfect for Europe.


Sad Boredom
Sitting alone in a stupid stall selling ‘study abroad’ advice
When there’s hot music to chill to on the dance floor.
Sitting alone in a room sulking and hearing
Heavy rock emanating through your window.
Sitting alone in a rave party stone cold sober
Watching others dance to the DJ’s bad Punjabi music.
Feeling guilty to have fun because you’re worried about the future.
It’s sad…

Love At First Byte

The Sunday morning was bright and clear,
When she entered his life;
He had named her ‘Daisy Dear’,
And wanted to make her his wife.

Love at first byte was the case,
But it lacked reciprocation;
He loved her from his magnetic core
But she refused the relation.

My capacity for love is boundless
My pixels leave others dumbfound;
Resolution, class, perfection,
In me, SVGA, abound.

“Don’t get fresh,” qouth Daisy,
“ You vain son of a screen,
I already love another
One who is to you supreme.

Don’t grovel at my base,
Or slobber my print head with kisses,
I cannot answer your love
So save your swears, groans and hisses.”

But VGA remained undaunted,
He made one final attempt,
To woo the one he loved,
And overcome her contempt.

He grabbed a light pen from the desk,
And etched it onto his chest,
In bright red the eternal words –
‘I love you with all my zest.’

But before he could enter his tale of love,
Into his permanent memory,
Load-shedding came and took away,
His precious thought – his treasury.

When the lights came on again,
SVGA’s screen was blank,
Where once were sights of life and love,
Was void, cold and dank.

He had forgotten the emotions he felt,
When his eyes had fallen on Daisy;
The incident had removed the last traces
Of the affair, so one sided and crazy.

Daisy was relieved and overjoyed,
To see this madness end.
And just as he was in the beginning
Lay SVGA, at the end.

This tale thus ends where it began,
Reminding us that love is hard;
A machine needs not circuits and memory,All it really needs is a heart.

Dosco Expelled

You join school you leave school too young too late.
You play games and read books and wait and wait.
It’s all books and balls, balls and books but wait! Wait, or otherwise cook!
Sit and treat. We wanna eat! What? No meat no sweet so no treat! Then hey! Beat!
You don’t wanna treat? Then serve. Serve!
Serve - yourself - your - head - your - own - and - the - rest - of -your - house!
But always remember serve the shouts.
[Server!] [Server!] [Chapats?] Run get chapats. Cold!
Must get chapats! Everything else... hold!
Hold up your head, serve it first.
Once the bell rings, sit, eat, and savour your thirst.
You’re always thirsty and always late.
Toyetime! Playtime! Everytime late! Classes, P.T., what’s-the-time? “Late!”
Change-in-break! Change your books! Wrong books!
“Sorry Sir, I’ll just...” “Uh-Uh! No excuses! Hey, where are you going? Stop! Wait!”
Can’t go back to my house now?
Under your breath, you swear.
“Can’t go back to my house”,
What’s this place coming to?
You think and suddenly hear a bell.
The class just got over, you think oh well... swell!
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter; all the scopats windows I have to shatter, says the rain.
You’re wet, you’re cold. No umbrella no bag no plastic
Books-wet, CDH-wet and cold and finally you make it, slish-slosh to stare at your windowpane.
Then your friend shouts, “Arre...yaar change up fast, we’ve got a game!”
Game: Ball! Big ball small ball hard ball bouncy ball,
Suddenly you remember oh my god you had to make a phone call!
Phone call means chit: chit! Phone chit! Outing chit!
Store chit cog chit book chit good chit bad chit. How...!
Books! What about them! Notebooks Rough books.
Only wanna read library books but can’t. But, why?
No study now, read later! Learn now, why later?
But no. They why can’t you study now and pay later? You cry.
Learn? (Sob) study? (Sob) now (sob) why (sob)
“WHY? I’ll tell you why. For getting into a good college you blob!
But you only need four! Sir, best four. Don’t need to count the rest?
Their marks don’t count and why? Why the rest? What is the rest?
The ‘rest’ was very relaxing and short and nice and is equal to ten schools a week
1800 minutes a month 240 hours a year minus extra classes!
And - it - doesn’t - even – count.
Armed with education minus rest the college gates you shall mount
Forward backward but onward into rain. Rain.
Mist, breath, smokes rain. (Bell)
Bath! What? Now? Have you seen the time? Are you insane?
Hmm...You say rub out the sleep and step out.
Rain mist breath smoke! Chappals towel soap dish –
Ammunition You step out!
Cold. Very cold. Brrrr.!
You shiver and try to come back in but... bang! bang! bang!
It’s me, let me in. It’s damn cold out here bang bang bang Please I don’t wanna have a bath. (Pause) ok don’t!
FINE!
You borrow shampoo from the next room and inquire about your old friend time.
Ohhh my god, ooh my god has the bell rung?
Yes! someone shouts back its rung!
Damn you time, some friend you are!
You deserve to be hung.
Run! Run after your food before it gets cold.
Open up! I’m late aah! It’s open.
But where’s my... Form-mate won’t wait can’t wait or he’ll get late,
Some mate or he’ll get late. Late for dinner... so that makes you a...? Sinner!
Everyone angry with you. Cater-er, Headmast-er, serv-er,
Makes you wanna commit murd-er.
But how? Knife? Banned! Gun? Banned.
Wife? Banned! Tuck?... I repeat Tuck-your-shirt-in-and-pull-up-your stockings
The way you’re going there Ain’t gonna be no stopping
And change those awful shoes! How many times do you have to be told
Can’t you follow rules? Fit in with the mould?
Rules? Who rules?... and us?... Fools?
What are we here for? What do we do?
You learn, study and enjoy yourself now shooo!
Enjoy? How? By studying? By standing? “No!”
Its sunday stupid! Arre watch the 2-5 show!
Oh yes! Its sunday and there’s a movie but why can’t you go?
You’re gated! So stick here, study and do so and so and so.
Watching the cricket match you say “I’ve heard the new movie...”
“CATCH IT!” You’re interrupted and the fielders go up. The ball goes up, up! up! Up in the air
So if you were fielding at 3rd man you wouldn’t just stand and stare
You’d go for the catch... You’d jump over the wall after the ball.
But you’ve been warned. Take heed!
But you still go for the catch, you do
And you succeed... but......oooo
Well done! Congratulations! You’re caught! You’re healed
You’re school life is over, another letter is sealed.
Howzzat! You listen as the batsmen shout.
You glance at the umpire he shrugs- up goes his finger I’m sorry you’re out!
Out, out! out from the field, out from the gate... you’re finally leaving.
But one second, hold it now, wait!
Where’s your gate pass? Where? It slipped through which crack?
But then you remember you won’t be needing it cause you’re not coming back!
You don’t need to walk, the gate walks towards you,
It looks different like a spare,
Then you see the chowk and think,
“Aah, atleast he’s still there”
“Namaste bhaiya...” you want to continue but your vision and eyesight suddenly blurs.
He’s a collector like you... you collect cards but he... he prefers signatures.
So you think you’ll give him one not another’s like last Sunday’s but yours.
Your very own... and so you ask for the book and you feel its bark.
You open it sign and leave your mark.
You pick your bags and suddenly you’re out... Check mate!
You look behind you but he’s already,
Shut the gate.
Too late again... again too late.
The game’s over! You’ve won! And don’t you feel great?
No more boring classes. No more form-mates.
No more coffee and noodles. I guess you call it fate!
You’ve been expelled... but sadly it came too late... for had it been sooner and as much as you hate yourself for admitting it... you stayed on just long enough to get that lethal taste!
What taste? You wanna know what taste?
That taste which lingers and connects you to dust!
That taste which makes you enjoy your last bust!
That taste which like steel survives even rust!
That taste which is so sweet that return you must!
That taste which hits true and when it does, goes straight to home base!
That even you can’t help admitting, “Damn, I’m gonna really miss this place.”

Apurv Chandola at his best in 1999