Klash of the Konfessioners

February 19, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — DokSaab @ 7:30 pm

[Entries Closed]




1)Very distant; remote.
2)Abstracted; dreamy:
a faraway look.


Scribbler (120)

Newborn Mother

The brightness was blinding
When she carefully opened her eyes.
She felt like a newborn
After the veil of barrenness was torn apart.

The door opened and gave way
To her bundle of joy;
Gift wrapped in celestial white
And cradled in the hands of her soul mate.

Broken down completely in excruciating pain,
Yet she sprang up like a lil dame.
Held her angel close
And kissed its forehead.

Tear drops rolled down her cheek
Like kids on a park slide.
Her pain had strayed faraway
To a land she might not return again.

What’s left is a title for which,
persistently she had prayed.
It’s “Mother” and that’ll be her new name
Till eternity from today.


Rush.Me (119)

“…And I miss you
been far away for far too long…”

“Great!! Just when I don’t need it!! Bloody iPod!!”
She tried getting back to work, but her thoughts wandered far away… To him, his smell, his touch, which she was missing terribly now-a-days… This SELF-IMPOSED-LETS-STAY-APART-ON-TRIAL-EXILE is not working at all!!

“…Been far away for far too long
But you know, you know, you know,
I wanted you to stay…”

He never liked this song; she had deliberately put it in his iPod. But today, he hummed along. Reminded of her, her husky voice, short bouncy hair, her craziness…Everything!!
Just a matter of shedding the ego & punching 1 on speed dial…

“The number you are trying to call…..”

DokSaab (80)

It was past midnight.
I was still awake.
His images were not fading away.
Flipping like a slideshow.
Him holding her hand.
Her faking to break free.
Him squeezing her in a hug.
Her wild and gasping laugh.
Him fondling her breasts passionately.
Her biting his unshaven cheeks.
All this in my backyard,
Me watching from my window.
He was sleeping next to me.
I could feel his hand on my bosom.
But his touch was cold, moist,
and faraway.


Miracle Drug (109)

I choose not to believe in reality.
My purview of the truth is limited to the infinitude of my feelings.
The only truth I’ve ever known, is Us – The truth I watch gradually evanescing into the emptiness that’s left of my life.
I’m pounding against your walls, only to push you even further into your nook.
You were all the joy I knew – The joy I now see passing me by, waving a single finger, as if to convince me of the finality of its departure.
You’re close enough that I could breathe you in.
Yet the distance would cost me a lifetime.
Perhaps, even a life.


Tasneem Kudrati (120)

Peeking through silken high clouds,
Mushy, purpled, as dark lies upon
Incandescent among the starry sky
Each day, it grows, mounting its shine
Till fifteen, with immense luster
It spawns a charm eternally, to glow into
Playing hide and seek with cirrus,
As longing to capture it, for years to just behold
Intensely beautifying silence of night
Makes it perfect to light up the world
As denoted with being romantic, it thrills
Wanting couplet to drown into each others soul
Seductive in a manner, like moonlight touch
Falls on the ground, mystical effluent
Hush of a wind, and chimes spreading apart,
Melody voicing to show its presence
Far, high, it awakes when all asleep
I see The Moon coming in.



Mandappa KC (112)

Travel magazines and plush marketing campaigns
The world is beautiful
Lure you, seduce you, the big photographs
The clean prints and fancy clippets
The hand-made paper brochures
fancy five star resorts you’d never make it too

Stuck in my office in a single cubicle
A house that’s stuck in between two buildings
A pollution ride to go back and forth
I’m stuck so faraway.

I’m there atop the classy mountain peak
Touching snow, kissing mist
Picture perfect holidays on a backpack schedule

The comfort of a bed I can call my own
Food from mamma’s kitchen
A bath I know just right
All that’s missing from my bag

I’m stuck so faraway.


Heady Concoction (120)


Faraway…. My eyes misted. A drop trickeld down. My son has planned to settle down in California. He fell in love and married an American blonde. His accent is also all ‘firangi’. Now when he ‘visits’ his old parents, it will be as tourists, his family being more interested in the exquisite charms of India than the ailing woes of an aged couple.

Will he still have time to lay his head in my lap? Will he still want to accompany his papa? Or his demanding life, make us just a blur on his horizon?

These thoughts eerily creep through my psyche. A phenomenon vastly replicated. Then I see him…soon to be four years old. And a sigh escapes..


Chaos (72)

Weeping upon the waveless lake
My sun, I miss your restive calm
That weaves unease, solace and decline
Your other side is so weak and sublime

Slithering in my darkest hour
My moon, I feel your poetic pale
Yearning to appease a rose awake
Following every step you take

And in between layeth the blue
Beneath an endless black and white
My umbra and scarlet move astray
Your yellow plagues me faraway


CoffeeIsMyPoison (120)

ALL this and more.

A day of peace,
a good night’s sleep,
a guiltless breath,
all this and more,
seem faraway.

A satisfying career,
a decent income,
a job well done,
all this and more,
are so faraway.

A slim figure,
well fitting clothes,
appreciative glances,
all this and more,
seem faraway.

A day of abandon,
a fun filled trip,
genuine laughter,
all this and more,
are so faraway.

A happy family,
no major worries,
parcheesi before bed,
I wish I were young,
could turn back time.

My parents proud,
my sister happy,
my love at peace
all i wish to see.
Alas I wish I could,
speed up the clock…

for now,

All this and more,
seem so faraway


Tale Twister (120)

He landed at the airport. Freedom at last. Soon he will be faraway from the clutches of law. In three days he will leave Mumbai and the DC police will never find him in a random village of India. His friend will meet him in a high-class hotel, ready with the dollars he had stolen converted in Indian rupees. It was a tough scam, but success was achieved. He was rich and faraway from law. A new life awaited him ahead. He caught a cab and reached his hotel. So far so good. “Welcome Sir, your room is ready, please sign here.”

The fake passport worked. He signed the register.


The Taj Mahal Palace Guest Register


26/11/2008 – Peter Williams


Lord Summer, the Great Warhorse (116)

Once my master tied me in a stable
And went in an inn to dine
Standing there was a strange horse
Painted in the patches fine

I harrumph right away and say,
‘Dude, who the hell you be?’
And this funny guy looks up at the roof
And says, ‘Faraway, that’s me!’

I toss my bushy eyebrow,
Getting all keen,
And blurt out before I think,
‘Psst, but what does that mean?

He smiles at me oddly,
And says, ‘Buddy, what to say!’
My baby colt is growing in the woods
I want to see him play!

When he eats his first grass,
Don’t wanna miss that day,
And thus, my strong friend,
I am Faraway

Cauchy Pradhan
(Not up for kompetition)

Holmes shrugged, “When you have eliminated the impossible … “.
Exasperated, I cut him off, “Tired of hearing that”.
The anger in his eyes was visible even through the dark plumes of Turkish tobacco.
“Too many suspects”, I said. “Everybody had a motive”
With wrinkled brow and frown, he drifted into a trance, which I presumed signified the deepest of concentration.
Minutes elapsed.
Finally he with a look of resignation he said “I give up, Watson, how do we get the s***** “.
“Well, we punch the daylights out of them individually, till someone owns up”. I grinned. “Learned that in India”, I added.
An awkward pause followed.
“Whom do we start off with?” he asked.
“Anybody, at random”.




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