Reminiscence of life

Victory… triumph
I have …I have won
Over my enemy.
Who either was kept cold
In three feat six feat below soil or
Burnt like a camphor; but
For residue, to solute in river.

What ever may it be. I have
And I have won over him.
We both had tussled in the
Tug of business. What if he
Had won then. But now… I have
I have.

A tear flows out now
When I hear his name , as had
Not he been there; I would not know
The flavor of victory. Agony has
Filled my heart now.

Its not that I will not have enemies
Any more. I will still fight with this
Soul. But I have lost a chance of ‘one’ win over him.
Now tell me have I won or…

Pavan kumar.H
02 may 07

Separation… ya the word separation, Hundreds and hundreds of types with hundreds of people, with less intensity or more feelings, separation is separation. I am a victim and a culprit. Why? Let me explain.
Looking at me now you will hardly believe that, I too had life to laugh, to leap with joy forgetting the peg of venom in heart. I had bunch of hearts, which symphonized with my beats. The melody of that reminiscence, give the fullest joy.
Only few people can reach my heart. Not cause there is dearth of front row seats, but with the fear that I may not be able to take care of so many properly.
Ujire is miniature heaven for me. The nature, the cluster of life lead, the college, the climate and the friends made it no less to heaven.
Leaving out every thing that is admirable, I shall state about the ‘creatures’ that I loved there. My roommates are an irreplaceable part of the story. They are my biography. Mahesh, Rajeev (Raj), Karthik (Kavi), Rahul (hybrid elephant). We summed up an entire lifetime in those there years of larva stage. Right from teasing Mr. Shankri to sharing the top secrets of our love stories.
All started at the Kanumane… Shankari’s resident. Mahesh, Rahul and I were roommates for a large part of our first year life. Karthik shifted out from our room and, Rajeev was in a different room in same mess. From the day one of “ Being together”, we synced in one color. We shared the same passion and thought for the hostel life.
Mahesh is the soft-spoken guy, but his close up smile would fetch him only one thing from us: Seal your lips and tongue!! Karthik is a well-read man and has some serious chemical imbalance in his head. His work justifies it all. Uncountable matured poems followed by a non-talkative film and documentary.
Ankura was the common thread in which we all were interwoven. Ankura (our first child) was the practice journal that we brought out regularly on an irregular basis. The fight, the struggle and the idea that was put into it are a matter of pride and nostalgia. Raj’s commitment for the journal is indeed commendable. Seven members were involved in its genesis but only one remained till the end and still he never lost hope. You all might know the story of the poem enterprise… the same happened to us too.
Outside the room, the first person that became close was Charithra (Chari). A strange kind of friendship blossomed between us. For all the ‘things’ I wanted from a friend, she was there and for what ever she wanted from a friend, I was not there. Hopefully she has realized that I am not the prefect friend. A small misunderstanding has resulted in we turning into cats and dogs. She wished to be a friend again but I am not worth it… I neglected her approach.
Mata alias Mahesh (not the same one in my room), was another black precious pearl in my ornament of friendship. A tough guy who with his determination did what most of us just kept dreaming about. Now he is a master-ate student (English) of some Bombay college. One more person who stood with me in all those ‘happy days’ was Sandesh. I can never forget the day both of us were about to get a cane on the hips from the Police, the midnight walks and Chicken Bhiriyani will be the trademark for his remembrance.
Next in line and the most and most important creature in my life so far has been ‘my teacher’. She is not the literal meaning of teacher; she is my best friend and taught me English literature in college. A cute village girl, who is yet to see the world and its odds and evens. Now to explain this Angle… I may really need one encyclopedia and nothing less than that. So it is ideal not to make you read all that now, hence wont divulge into details.
There was another important person; they may not feel good about this. Still, this is a tribute to what they were to me. I have named them as Inspiration, for the simple reason that they were the inspiration to most of my poems. (Writing any thing else would reveal their identity so a full-stop to this Para.)
Last but the not at all least by any means- Supiritha, A live wire of action… a devilishly innocent sister. There was hardly any day when we both had not fought. Such was my life at Ujire.
But why did I say all these to you… because
I miss all of them so much… The cold weather in Bangalore has made the tears into ice and my heart aces to get back to that heaven… the paradise…yes all means the same and that is MY UJIRE.

Like me

The new moon pretended

To smile even after losing

Its better half.

Like me

The Grape pretends to

Please others,

Even after fermenting itself.

Like me

The tall ‘oak’ tree

Stood bold even after

Its beloved creeper died of age.

Like them, what else

Could I do, than to suffer and


I Muted my Heart,

Which shouted in deep agony.

Her reminiscence slaps

My thoughts, like the over-excited

Waves racing to the beach.

And the scar carved by that diamond

Will remain forever on this

Stoned heart.


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Bangalore, Karnataka, India
Has not excavated fully. There are half baked feelings, desires and ambitions. But a heart to complete and compel.

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