Fictitious friction!

Sand embraced your velvet feet,
as you lifted your wriggly skirt.
Wave by wave, you cut, to enter the ocean,
like glitters on a colorful sheet.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sticking lips on the remains of your lipstick,
coffee never tasted so brewed ever before.
Like a fireplace concealed with in me,
winters never seemed to matter anymore.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

You stood by the pavement, while I parked the car,
gazing with an assuring smile, as I rolled up the glass.
And now there is no glow, just a few lights surround,
with a diminishing warmth, a cold seat, I drive around.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

We sought each others' attentions,
with gestures frivolous, garish actions,
exchanging glances in a crowd of thousands,
eyes stuck like magnets, creating their own lines of sight.
Polarity's reversed, friends reckon,
three feet of distance or one street across; ignorance's dawned,
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sitting on a couch for one, with a bottle of wine,
sipping to eternity, raising toasts to cloud nine.
going red, beating thud, smiling to your name,
engulfed in a sound of whispers, both, silly and lame.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

I hope my words still ring like a melody in your head,
that my absence reminds you of the dreams that we bred.
Do you turn around in sleep to hear things long unspoken?
Tell me that you smile and cry in a moment of two emotions.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Now I remind myself to breathe,
to live off a breath, that was once taken.
Give a meaning to my strides,
to assert a purpose, not long back broken.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sharad Kanwar Raj
August 27, 2008

And when the lights go out!

Walking past the solo neon light,
casting suave shadows on the cobblestones,
breathing against the sound of silence,
puffs of smoke on a cold winter night.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Lane by lane, marking your footsteps,
following the scent of your body,
leather on staddles, leaning against poles,
glancing eyes, seeking a moment's loneliness.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Let you shiver in my presence,
let the fog form formations in your mind,
while you wrap around your hands,
feeling the chill of an evil around.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Silver spreads across your face,
as it beams neath the moonlight,
like splitting into halves; the night.
Lines drooping on your face,
you know the moon's fading.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Your English walk, ain't there anymore,
make-up's on the floor again, like you care,
vanishing panache, attitude; verve no more,
trembling, like a leaf, curling even more.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Sweating on snow, gulping fear,
pushed in to the blackness, you are.
Growing still, waiting for the inevitable,
you know it, you know it all.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

I wish I could hold it back; the desire,
now it speaks for me, simply taken over.
Giving in; playing in to the hands of the devil, I am.
You have played it enough, the table's turned.
And when the lights go out...........................

Sharad Kanwar Raj
August 26th, 2008

A look down the Aorta!

For people who know me well, are aware that I am passionately in love with Mussoorie. I just penned a few lines some time back, but in between applying for jobs, which I did for the most part of today, I did something that kept me going through the usual company profiles; completing these lines. Though this could go on and on, I am too excited right now to publish this. Considering that I am running a slight temperature today, I am happy with today's efforts, in terms of my work and more so, for churning out some nice lines. Hope you all like it!


I can feel the sun, heating up the floor underneath my feet!
Soft warm winds with rays fighting the printed linen, to seep.

Trees on toes, in vain; not tall enough in standing!
Streets lengthened by a red lining, shadows straightening!
May be this is what is called 'lining up the broadway"!
To me, just another day in good old Mussoorie, quaint and gay.

The Quran's being opened yet again, enchanted in reverence.
Agarbattis fill the air with the ever so recognizable fragrance!
A sound that needs no voice, a smell little insecure.
The morning namaaz in sync with the temple prayer!
Allah meets Ram, 6000 feet above the ground.

Sherpas; steel bodies, benign expressions, circling town.
Breathing beedis. True to its last stretch, a constant grin.
NewYork, Paris, Mumbai,Tokyo? Gun hill chalna hai saahab?

Winding paths, known yet unknown.
Daily nuances, mundane chores, still cause a rush of blood.
As I stroll down, steps beg to speed, eyes popped out,
Looking to see, seeking solace, for once the future is a reality.

Turn after turn, familiarity strikes, anticipation satiated.
Panditji's grocery store, Omi's sweets. I can guess it all!
A sense of security prevails, my hills intact.
People love change, I am in love with the unchanged.

I follow water, down stream, trickling as it does.
Only it shares my exuberance, my passion, my love.
We communicate with our characteristic giggling,
holding virtual hands, it dodges its bumps, while I evade mine.
New waters, old friends, race to the finish this is, with two winners.

Eggs buoyant on boiling water, topped with salt and pepper when done,
Corn, coated in lime, honey and spices, freshly charcoaled, blackened.
I scuffle my coat, for a 2 rupee coin, Sun's beaming on Doon Valley.
Got to hurry up! For I know I have to bargain, before I catch a glimpse.
Telescopes don't rent out cheap, on a fine bright Summer morning.

Bauji, calls out the rifle shooting vendor. Haanji sir, yells the horselender.
Authoritative in my voice, I reply with a chosen dismissive response, local.
Persistence vanishes in to the thin air. The rest, as they say, is history.
I move on, with my hands in my pockets, city walk, amused, triumphant.

I realize relativity. No trace of speed of light around, but for my thoughts.
Engaging me in a seamless motion; stretching perspectives, contracting times.
The will to see life in a second, and all you have is a bunch of emotions.
I assort them, frantically. Time's of essence, yet another life's to follow.

Stopping intermittently, smiling profusely, childishly tapping the barricades,
I retrace my steps to 116 Landour bazaar, my ancestral home.
Bowing with folded hands against every alternate shop, is Kawarraj's puttar!
Sharing second glances, second greetings, but rejuvinated warmth.

Tandoor awaits at its harshest temperatures, to be fed yet again,
hands clapping against it, flour's been cast into a holy shape yet again.
I totter my way up the steps, comforting my demanding stomach.
Engulfed in an aroma of maa ki daal, yelling "Beeji, Rajma chaul banaye ne ?"

'Shot' of glory!

I think we all know of the news about a fairly simple bloke winning the first ever individual gold medal for India. Indeed, a moment to be very happy! Congrats and thanks, Abhinav!

What you reap is what you sow- It's true!

I agree with the title to a great extent when we talk of the current state of terror in India.In the wake of the current bombings, and the subsequent advent of these so called Indian Mujahideens, who have claimed the responsibility for the same, it may mark the beginning of a new face of reckless killings. I think the outside hand can only fan the proceedings, and glorify these misguided youth as martyrs. We may need bofors on our borders, but we definitely need some compassion with in our territories. I don't think this post is complete as I would like to add on to the ideas that I have tried to express..Let's see if I actually manage to add a few lines later.

Why blame the gun, when we supply the bullets!
Why blame the dead, when we didn't spare the coffins.
Outside hands, with strings attached; operating puppets!
On a podium of their extinct families, showcasing talents.

Let a few more scream their last,shed blood in indispensable blasts.
Let a few more perish, while you count your votes!
Spare none; send out your hounds, to immoral grounds.
Let them have a feast with cops, in government rounds.

Post the bombings,I know you invented a few terrorists.Kill them.
Suleimaan may be 12, Aashif 13. Did I mention they are Indians?
Nevermind! Threat's a threat, more so, if it gets you a medal.

Wipe them all off, before 'they' get you.
So what if you are oblivious to who 'they' are.
Rage demands no logic, mob's uniquely cogent.
Your sword demands blood, and that it shall have!

Did you rape, loot, floor a dozen?
Hurry up, don't you wanna join the CM's kaizen!
Gandhian state, Gandhian ideas, with essential mutations.

Respond, to whistles from both sides on the border.
You count the heads, while diplomacy tackles humanity.
You shall have your share, like it was taken.
Do as is told, oblige to the call of the Satan!

This game's fun. A Colosseum, you provide, we execute.
We scar, you train. Favor returned.
Poverty's rampant, trendy is unemployment.
Life's priceless! Guess what, it earns you a few cents.

I will do my time in hell. For you, let me ensure the the same.

Sharad K Raj,
August 6th, 2008

Paradoxically receptive nature of humans!

One moment, we gaze up, wondering why it should ever pour,
The very next, we sail out our boats in a puddle of mud!

-Sharad
August 5th, 2008