Stasis to Metastasis

1. Stasis : from Greek στάσις "a standing still"
Also known as Stasis (pronounced /ˈsteɪsɪs/), or hypersleep, is a science fiction concept akin to suspended animation.

2. Meta : from Greek: μετά = "after", "beyond", "with", "adjacent", "self", is a prefix used in English (and other Greek-owing languages) to indicate a concept which is an abstraction from another concept, used to complete or add to the latter.


3. Metastasis:  the spread of a disease from one organ or part to another non-adjacent organ or part.

The unheard

Saw the movie Dhobi ghat... and as the movie came to an end, this is what came to my mind..

Yes, sometimes,
just a single string
than a full chord
is enough to touch and sting

A solo, rather than
a choir of noises;
a single silencing finger
among cacophony of noises

Lingering whispers
to move your world
where money, power, strength
lose their worth

But at times,
amongst all the zest;
what moves you most
is when Silence speaks best.

Dear God

Just gonna stand there 

and watch me burn?
Well that's alright 
because I like the way it hurts

Just gonna stand there 
and hear me cry?
Well, that's alright
because I love the way I die. 

I love the way I die.

High

Days of thirst, hunger
No sleep
Cursing all along
But thats not all bad
Thats the stuff
I get high on.

Molten fire is what
Runs in these veins
Creeping up the spine
About to explode
Each moment ticks
But everything is fine

Shrieks fill the air
This is one nightmare
With no dawn
But thats not so bad
Coz thats the stuff
I get high on.

Still remember
How my face looked
That night
Pain searing through
Ripping in two
Against myself I fight

Bleed, till no more
Need, till no more
Shaking, still holding on
Oh yeah,
Thats the stuff
I get high on.

The Toll

The car screeches
A sudden halt
the Toll needs to be paid.
The ten rupee note passes
from the drivers hand
into another.

An unnamed, faceless hand
mechanically stretched
from a hole in the wall
to offer a ticket in exchange.

Who is the owner of the hand?
What does he live for?
What kind of family does he have?
What does he do,
When he is not here?
Does he like his job?

Don't ask me
I only saw his hand.
But if you want
I can paint a picture grand.

In this world
He is Narayana
He is the caretaker
of the Land of Toll gates
No one passes, not a single one
without an appropriate offering.

The picture ends, for now I hear
The bell telling me to move on
It tolls not for me,
But the cistern, that holds me.

A Happy New Year To You

Returning on a rickshaw
a scene caught my eye
Kids celebrating new year:
Rebellious moves
Dancing bare feet
Barely seen through
the sheet of kicked up Dust.
Joyous, yes it seemed
Is this how
the New year's gonna be?
Like the kicked up dust
Animated into shapes?
Will it be like
the dust as it is now
mingled and settled on the ground.
Or will it be
Brushed away
Under the carpet of tomorrow
just like your
New year resolutions?
Or will it be
worth the memory;
Etched in your mind
with the ink of happiness,
success, creativity
Even perhaps humanity?
Whatever it may be
We wait and grow
with bated breath.
Light up your face
with a fresh smile,
Yell "Happy new year to you!"
Begone days
I bid thee, adieu.