Sunday, April 19, 2009

Haiku for the Diva

Girl who thinks that she
With her work will change the world
Thrives in the unreal.

Lyrical,vain dreams
Crafted from nothing;to feed
The unwritten whim.

Soliloquy is
The forte of the poet
Who forgets to write.

I fly on the wings,
And abide by the rules of
Wretched vanity.

Damsel in distress,
Scribbling to carve pictures
In white and charcoal.

Damsel in distress,
Smudging brushes with ire
To paint her visage.

P.S. - A few things you already know about yours truly.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

It Happens only in India: Snail Pace Speed Post

Even the postal department isn't immune to computerization and its many pitfalls.I had the experience a few days ago, when I wheeled into the tiny neighborhood post office to send a letter via speed post.I realize that many of you are wondering how the postal department still holds its head high in times like these.Well it does;with the aplomb and alacrity of the tortoise who outran(or out-crawled?) the swift rabbit.

I did mention the pitfalls of computerization.Yes,even the post office has to deal with constantly crashing and seldom cooperating stubborn servers.It so happens that in this particular office,there is one counter to handle speed post and money orders.Every money order has to be approved(most people who make out money orders aren't aware of the postal code of the recipient.Every search for a postal code takes a good seven to eight minutes).The heat is sweltering,the post office can be likened to a dungeon housing sacks of letters.There are people trying to jump queues and others trying to chide them for doing so.Then there is the demure clerk sitting behind the counter, her shoulders slouched and her face pallid.Irate customers hover around the counter trying to cast a cursory glance towards the monitor.They move away in resignation;shaking their heads as they say,'slow server'.A senior postal officer tells the clerk to relax and not to hurry. These words of wisdom have a visible effect on her as she continues to stare at the screen.

It took me an hour just to pay for the postage and to get a receipt.On my way back, I started to weigh the pros and cons of faxing attested documents.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

A Cup Full of Class

This entry is inspired by the sweltering yet tantalizing tea factory located on the hills of Ooty.One enters the premises and is swept away by the sheer force of the aroma of the 'ambrosial drink'.A swift tour of the factory,overlooking the machinery, culminates with a tiny cup of tea with a whiff of cardamom.There is a charming showcase with souvenirs lining shelves that are seldom touched.What struck me the most were two books; one titled 'Tea Poetry' and the other 'Tea,Scones and Cake' (I don't recall what the latter was called as I was already carried away by the former).

I asked one of the salesmen to show me the book of tea-inspired poems.I was struck by the blatant astonishment on his face. He handed me the book on scones and tea,his disbelief doubling when I insisted that I preferred the book of poems.It is quite common for people to buy tea at tea factories,rare for books to be sold at tea factories and even rarer for someone to buy books sold at tea factories.The man gently wrapped the book in a paper bag and then inside a cloth bag; giving me the bag directly instead of handing it to the clerks at the counter.

For someone who relishes wine-inspired poetry and generally uses coffee for inspiration, tea suddenly became the subtle liquor that brushes the senses lightly without much upheaval.The book carries a motley crew of poems, ranging from stiff upper lipped British reminiscence to the quaint Japanese haiku. It bears testimony of convoluted Chinese philosophy captured in Jasmine and the faint lamentations of a 'tea taster'.

If one can associate passion with wine and insomnia with coffee, one can comfortably attribute class to the delicate flavor of the so called 'Elysian' drink.How it calms the brimming soul of the fettered writer!