The train..again

A most beautiful yawn, interrupting blissful slumber
A subtle silent twitch, a silent moan
And back he went to his coveted reserve
Five kilos of pure peace treats my eye
Tucked cosily in a warm woollen drape
And an even warmer mother’s bosom
(Wait I already hear an Awwww...)

Cuddly, carefree and...crying?
Oh, the baby is awake
Did my supposedly powerful stare
Excite him from ground state?
Nay! Its jus time for him to cry
It’s a baby thing..they sleep n they cry.
And then sleep again..

They don’t bother if their bib matches their shirt
Or don’t stare at me wondering if I get paid more than they do
And no they don’t care if India wins the test match
And no he’s not guessing the model of my mobile phone.
Babies..I understand "bliss" now

How I wish I were a baby..
Hmm I’ll never be that again
But neither will he.
The one thing everyone on earth does together.
Get old.

The baby forced me to write today.
The train .....again

Cradles most of my ideas
Baby distracted me
I write on ..giving in to my pen
And its meandering ways

I’ll take a break and walk along the train.
It’s my favourite pastime
Second only to stargazing and may be meeting people
Not to forget reading
Okay..I walk when I’ve nothing else to do.
I reach the door and let the wind blow through my hair
While I still have some.

The stars taunt me from their eternal perch.
I turn away from the threshold before it breaks mine.
I move onto the next bogie through the vestibule,
Hmm I always had a fascination for them..
They have this ...oh my god here we go..
I’m jerked to reality from verses about vestibules
By a bang on my head against the responsibly rolled shutters
At times like this, and those when I get a side berth allotted
I wish I could lose a foot or two from the six I have.

I let the train sound take me through the bogies,,
I met many people, guessed things about them
About their work and their minds..pure or perturbed
I’m mostly right. I’m not being judgemental.
I just read them .like books from their covers.
Give me a meeting with anyone,
I’ll tell u most things about them
Give me two, and they’ll tell you about me.

I return to the berth, always upper.
And get lost in the babies antics.
Do they get these eyes made?
Where does the sparkle go when they grow up?
It’s a sparkle born out of ignorance and equipoise.
No wonder it dims later in life.,but all babies have it., they do.
And before I know it, I tucked the little devil to sleep.
(The noun intended as revenge for making me change my shirt)

So I stare at the totally unergonomic fan alignment,
And wonder how the design can be optimised.
Oh I’m a geek at times.
Then I notice how my feet are just shy of overhang
And curl myself to sleep.
I wake up and it’s time to go home.

An ode to my queen

Yet another fun day at work
I’m returning home to Base
Most of us are catching up our forty winks
I find myself on the forecastle deck,
Doing what I do best and most.
Gawking at the brimming, unabridged oblivion.

Why is this turbulence within me ?
For once, I’m feeling lonely even by the sea.
The moment is lacking, I’m missing someone.
I rummage around for distractions.
Your voice rings in my head.
“You must write. It would be a sin if you didn’t.”

So I start to put the pen to the paper,
And the sea roars in refutation.
It ails her when someone is being loved more than her,
(Did I say ‘more’? Na..the sea did it and she knows the truth
She juddered the ship once as caveat.

Her question was crystal: If I continue to ink the paper,
It will mean more than just writing
She‘ll no more be second to none.
She quavers my hand in vain, hoping to change
What I’m penning, in her favour.
Yet I write this ode to my queen.

As I write, I hear sea gulls at a distance
I’d been taught, that meant land was near,
But today I learn, maybe that’s how the sea cries.
Now again, all this may appear as aggrandizement.
When it comes to the sea..
I’ve always been a romantic fool.

You made me smile more often.
Many a time you were the reason for it.
You made me write.
Believed in me more than I did myself
You made me ME again.


With you, I didn’t have to worry
About being strong or hard shelled.
Nor be conscious about my actions, nor pretend.
Like waves against rock, I could crash.
You gave me space, you gave me wings.
Freedom, despite my uniform.

I look up for a moment from the papyrus.
Only to lose myself to the stars.
I stop to speculate, twice.
Once, All this time I didn’t even notice the stars
And second, even when I do I’m reminded of you

Irony, I observe, the sky and the sea.
From here, they seem of the same ether.
They harmoniously blend into each other
Uniting at infinity.
They are eternally together
The horizon itself a mirage,
Their melange, abstract

A paradox inviting.
So near yet so far,
Closer you look, farther they seem.
There! A shooting star blazes past.
A flash of eternity, in the blink of an eye.

It’s September, I remember.
Orion should be right overhead.
The hunter is our messenger.
Whenever I see him, I leave a message for you.
Ever sure that you’ll be seeing him too.

my first love

I‘ll tell u about a friend

I shared my childhood, grew up with her

My dad had known her, so had his dad.

She must be pretty old, I guess

But never looked a day older than I was

I used to visit her everyday

‘Coz in her lap, I found unfailing solace

I’ve laughed, cried, and even been mad at her

Despite my mood swings, she always had an ear for me.

Sans words, she read my thoughts.

Her outward tranquility is deceptive,

She can get annoyingly loquacious at times.

Mind the Lady’s attitude, her notorious temper.

She forewarns you of her impending ire

But if you don’t have the ear to heed,- ACHTUNG!!

Her touch is magical, her embrace an elixir.

Her beauty is intoxicating, yet sanctimonious.

Her Neptune’s courtyard has enchanted me more than any fashion ramp

Or the cats that walk on them.

She is unfathomable poetry, only without words.

Then, destiny separated us

Providence made me rediscover her here.

She’s dubbed Cherai here though.

Back where I am from, we knew her as Marina

I bumped into her in Mumbai and called her Juhu

I chose the right service

The Navy will always keep me close to her.

Wordsworth was rightThere is indeed bliss in solitude.

But by the SEA, you are never alone.-