i tarry, forsooth

silver icing. frost on browning autumnal field.

i dare not trod upon the pristine dew,
it would sully her name - i explain.

surely the feel of bare grass under foot
is worth the initial pain?

The long drive to work

My orange -yellow tree, on the bend in the road,
is completely bereft today.

cold Autumn has him defenseless.

but he will stand through winter, proud.
and waiting.

babies

"So how's she doing, mum?

She's been an angel, doctor!

Has she been weeing and pooing, then?

Oh, my word! lots!! and its green!!! "


Thats been my morning mantra for the last few months now.

cooing, crying, cuddly, cantankerous, startled little creatures.

the kicking and screaming evokes paternal aaws and oooohs...

the gurgly gobbledygook is described gorgeous...

they regurgitation at will ... and they poo for england.


there's something magical about how she will suck at my little finger when i stick it in her mouth. it's a little trick i use to keep her occupied, while i listen to her tiny heart go lub-dub.

her little fingers grab mine in a grip that is heart rendingly needy. and she yells in reproach when i flip her over my arm to inspect her.

its the little boys that are a worry. they can aim very accurately when they wee. he ll go straight for the front of your shirt, or your face.


i love their littleness. the little fingers. the little toes. the little bat ears.the little red nose.

and then they grow up.

come spring

the birches,trembling as they remember
the snow, silver and gray

lonely wind, seeking shelter,
rattling this empty postbox

thoughts, of you: tumbling,
hurrying out of the cold

chill running down, lick,
bite, under my collar

flood rushing to my face.
you will not be so close, come spring.

going away

Let me smell you today,
as if the moment were to end.
your breath, humid,
languid, in my throat
it must last long enough
for my lips to approve.

i believe in always
when i am with you.

Shock absorber

Solitary white flower beside the gate;
stem broken by car in reverse.

I hope the sun comes out today.

You cant have roots, and wings.

Its a strange feeling, being away from home.

I'm not sure though, what i mean by home.
is it a place i know? is it the folk i love? is it a belonging?

I love the smells and the sounds of India. I miss the strange sights. And stranger still, the things you don't see. The underlying ethos, the overwhelming mass.

Where a man must fend for himself, he must survive. He expects to work hard, he strives to provide, his honour is sacrosanct, and his Karma defines him. And he is corrupt.
A woman is treated with deference; she is worshipped and revered; and also is not equal.

I am one when im home. I am king. and i am nobody.
i dont stand out. and i am banal.

These are my roots. i am entrenched. i cannot escape it.
It shapes me, and it has moulded me. and i am proud of it.

But yet, i think to myself, i love to fly.
there is a world that beckons. there are people to discover.
there are ways to understand. there are points of view.
there is different. there is new.
there is a universe of experience waiting to be asked.

I am what i am because thats who i ve grown to be.
but is that all that i'm meant to be?

You cant have roots, and also have wings, they say.
I want to disagree.
I want.

holland

You Spexy Thing!

"Well... you look like an intelligent sorts..." she said.

" Are you saying i'm not, then ???"

" No, no.. its the glasses, you see... they make you look intelligent " she exclaimed, quickly backtracking.

" I'm so sorry to disappoint you ! Maybe I should wear a warning with my glasses! 'Caution - people with spectacles may be more ignorant than they appear!' "


I have worn spectacles since i was a wee lad...
( my dad wasn't sure if i couldn't see, or if i was just the most spectacularly awkward boy! I fell over on a flat floor with absolute ease! )
Im used to people thinking i'm a nerd, folks just assuming that i studied too much, or sat too close to the television, and i've even had one auntie-ji say " So sad! he's only 6 years old and has such big glasses!"

I must protest. Really, i must.

I love wearing glasses.
I feel quite naked without them.
And i am extraordinarily ignorant ( which means I'm extra ignorant about ordinary things), but that has nothing to do with my glasses.

If I fell over while playing footie, its my glasses that i protect first.
Ask anyone who wears glasses. You worry about your glasses before you worry about your head!
This comes from a Pavlovian reflex. from all the pairs I broke when i was in school. I needed new specs almost every six months! Ask my mum!
I remember her saying, just as I was trying on the new pair... every single time... " you break this pair, Rayner Sanjay Lazaro, and you will stay blind! "

I broke spectacles while playing football, basketball, hockey, and even carroms.
( Really. I played the worst ever shot in the history of the game, and then laughed so hard, that i banged my head on the table when i fell over)

I played sports with a vengeance, you see. This was simply because I was that chap who always got picked last.
Not only did i wear glasses, which immediately puts you in a 'Nerd' category... but i was as skinny as a broomstick, and knew how to spell correctly.
( that doesn't help much on the hockey field, i learnt)
But, that made me play every sport i possibly could. And soon began to really enjoy them.

Once, I was leaning out the window cleaning the duster from the chalkboard in our classroom...
( which was probably the only real job of the class monitor... other than helping the teacher carry her books down to the staff room...)
And Vipin thumped me on the back to say hello...
and my glasses went sailing down three floors...
( in typical Matrix Reloaded style... slow motion... spinning gently in Tai-Chi fashion...)


Once I had Pravin run into me while we were playing football...
It was the one of those few times that i unexpectedly found myself with the ball at the opponents' goal...
( wide eyed, and dreaming of glory when i shot it...)
But Pravin, you see, was a heavy chap... ( he believed in either getting the ball, or stopping the man... as many a forward player will remember ruefully )
And its infinitely easier when the chap wears glasses... because you know you can squash him like a fly... and that, was what he did to me.
Against the goal post, i might add.
I was knocked almost unconscious.
"Are you alive?" was the question...
" Are my glasses broken?" was the question in reply.


Certain ladies will attest to the awkwardness of which side to tilt your head when they've finally decided to kiss this geek who's been so sweet to them...
Certain ladies will also attest to interrupted smooches, in order to find safest spot to place aforementioned valuable glasses...
They will advise you to carry handbag to disco, in order to provide safe spot for glasses when serious boogie is in order.
They will remember numerous conversations about whether or not glasses are tilted, in the very very slightest, to one side... " they just feel funny, babe! "


I love wearing glasses.
I actually think its funny how people think i'm smart just because i wear glasses. I shant burst their bubble.
And Clive Lloyd won twenty six tests without a defeat as captain. Those were thick glasses.

shirley you're kidding?!

So its been one of those weeks again!
dealing with the crazies... the ridiculously insane... and some just downright silly folk...
and now that i've told you about my colleagues... let me tell you about my patients...
they've been unusually quiet...they've been behaving themselves...
and i think some of them actually have begun to listen to me!

There's this 86yr old bean on my ward, who's just not doing well at all...
shes very frail and weak...and ill...and giving up...
and she refuses to eat anything!
the nurses think she's depressed...
i think she just hates the food they give her!
( this is a secret she's let me in on ;) and i ve promised to make sure they give her more carrots and peas...she likes her veggies... and white bread... none of that healthy wholemeal stuff! )
now this is the problem with medicine, i think...
everyone's always insisting on a diagnosis!
there simply must be something wrong with her...
why is it that she must be depressed?
i seriously don't know what's wrong with her!
she wouldn't eat... she wouldn't talk...
and then she just decided to talk to me about her general take on life!
out of the blue... probably just because she felt like it.
yes, she's poorly... but sometimes she's just fine.

it was really warm sunny day today...actually hot, it was...
and all the cool folk with convertibles had their tops down...
( note to self - must remember to get chainsaw and take roof off of my old toyota)
and then this evening it snowed.

this is the thing about life, isnt it?
your never quite sure what'll happen...
yes , we all listen to the weather man on channel 4...
and he did predict snow... and he knows what he's talking about...
( he could be like a weather doctor now, couldn't he?!)

but when its as warm as it was today...
(and you cant believe your good luck that its a Sunday... and for once you have the day off when its nice weather!)
...and you think to yourself... i dont care what the weatherman says...
theres no chance it'll snow.

i dont know if its because i dont believe the weatherman...
or i simply dont want to.

i have the rest of the week off...
and i wont be seeing my favourite old rita...
i ll see her when i get back...
i know i will...
cos none of the other women in my life wait eagerly to see me like she does.

Three

Thank you, Asha, for tagging me with this.
i havnt done something like this since i left school!
but it should be fun... and so here goes.

three things that scare me -
... roaches - i once was camping and woke up with a gigantic, crawly, extra crackly roach on my face. i lay awake for a few seconds that seemed like eternity, before it crawled.... and my skin crawled with it.
... being alone - i know its the nightmare that every kid wakes up screaming to... but i had a dream that recurred when i was a kid, where i woke up and couldnt find anyone... i was alone in my classroom in school... and i ran through the building in mute silence... desperately looking for my friends.
... drowning. i cant swim. and i've tried.

three people who make me laugh...
... manny - he's my golfing buddy... meaning really that he's taken it upon himself to teach me how to be snobbish and sophisticated on a proper English golf course... no bloody indians allowed!
... victor - he has this natural way about him that's incredibly slapstick... he can just be himself, and its funny... in a very jerry lewis way... in a very christ -college mad-ads team kinda way... in a strange i-want-to-strangle-him-with-my-bare-hands kinda way.
... nyles crane - i know he's fictional... but he's funny... he's genius... and i love the geek in him!

three things i love...
... poetry - emily dickinson, john donne & the rest of the metaphysicals
( Tell the truth... tell all the truth... but tell it slant - emily dickinson! )
... chocolate mud-pies - icky, gooey, and oozy.
... the smell of freshly baked bread - it reminds me of christmas at home.

Three things i hate...
... people who cant be nice - impolite, look-down-their-nose-at-you, selfish people.
... bigotry. patriots/liberals/militant/conservative/orthodox/asian/black/white/christian/muslim/hindu/low caste/male... these are terms that are bandied about much too wrongly.
... what we're doing to the earth. (yes, yes, i get all militant about it )

Three things i don't understand...
... practised stupidity - Paris Hilton type clones... the ones with the incredibly empty existences, shallow daily needs, non existent brains... but people want to give them lots of money to stay that way.
... why Titanic won awards.
... why people want books on CD! The Lord gave us fingers to turn pages with, eyes to read with, and imaginations to allow us into a different world. Read!

Three things on my desk...
... a calendar with all the bank holidays, and even every weekend , marked with smileys. long weekends and annual leave get gold stars with moustaches!
... my imitation Darth Vader light saber -with a red light that goes from laser to disco!
... a packet of wholesome, nutritionally valuable, vitamin enriched food pills disguised as Malteasers.

Three things i'm doing right now...
... planning an Italian Job type heist - so that i can retire to a life of leisure on a beach in the Caribbean.
... trying to stop using exclamation marks!!!! It surely is a sign of insanity.
... growing up.

Three things i want to do before i die...
... go diving off the great barrier reef... because i'm terrified of the ocean.
... finish that book that i started to write about my life - it ll be funny. i promise.
... convert car into batmobile!

Three things I can do...
... laugh - at almost anything. myself, mostly.
... cook a mean chicken curry that will knock your socks off.
... dream - fantastic, next to improbable, almost tangible dreams. usually less clearly when im not asleep.

Three things you should listen to...
... that voice in the back of your head
... your mother - when she tells you not to put that pea up your nose
... thermal and a quarter

Three things you should never listen to...
... expert advice on hidden weapons of mass destruction
... my brother's excuses about why he's late. again.
... lily allen, pop idol winners, boy bands, a voice of reason just before you jump bungee.

Three things i'd like to learn...
... how to Tango. now that, is sexy. it makes jiving and salsa look amateur.
... how to play the saxophone.
... how to read what women are actually saying. or not saying. are they waiting, welcoming, warning, waxing, waning, or are they just looking past me out the window?!

Three favourite foods...
... chocolate mousse, chocolate mud pies, panacotta, cheesecake, the M&S brownies... you get the drift.
... lasagne
... good ol' desi food. the spicy, chicken tikka masala kind of creamy, rich, curry. i miss my mum!

Three shows/books i watched/read as a child...
... star trek
... batman comics
... the sherlock holmes series

tossed salads and scrambled eggs

So yesterday i was driving to work, and i was in a bad mood...
( now you must see, that this is not unusual when one is on one's way to work )

i was cussing the chap on radio -2 ...
( normally, i talk to myself... but people who notice me tend to think i'm mad... so i've resorted to singing to myself... that way people just think i'm an idiot... hence the need for the radio... still doesn't explain why i was talking to the radio...but, hey... )

you see, he was being very silly... he was being annoyingly upbeat...
( now that in itself is not irksome... but it tends to grate when i'm not feeling cheerful myself... which does happen... a few times... per day...)

here i was stuck in my car... it was a cold and gloomy day, and it was raining...
( now again, this in itself, is not a reason to bring up any bile... and it would not be remiss to moan about the dark, dank, cloudy, unwholesome, depression- inducing weather... no... this is England! )

and i was late getting to work...
( this too, is totally accountable... considering the weather conditions, the fact that it was a monday, my car is an old beat up jalopy that was resuscitated from a scrapyard, the roads were frosty, and the woman who lives next door listens to Take That all the time and hence causes my delicate constitution great harm )

all this was pretty much routine... but this chappie on the radio had a really girly giggle, and he talked non-stop, and he was being oh so sweet, and he was giving away prizes to these prize morons who had nothing better to do than call in to his show - about Love.
( Good Grief !! )

...the reason i was so upset, was that i had run out of cereal that morning!
i mean... what a horrible thing to happen on a monday morning!!
( you must understand... that chunky nut honey cornflakes are ludicrously tasty... as anyone knows... they are vitamin-enriched, iron-fortified, low-salt, golden flakes with peanuts and honey... and a lack of sugar just means that i am not able to tolerate the prissy secretary who manages my clinic! )


now these are the times that i stop to complain about my life...
these are the times when i cannot be bothered to smile at my fellow man, shrug off the weight of third world debt, take in my stride the dying throes of our planet, be generous to people who only care about themselves, turn the other cheek to people who monger hate and terrorism...
and all those other things that i'm supposed to dislike.


And then i met Fran...
this lovely 94 year old lady...
who came to my clinic with her daughter...
because she was having memory problems.

She waddled in using her Zimmer-frame...
she looked at me very sceptically...

" they brought me to see you because they think i'm mad, doctor "

" but i'm not. I've had a good life... a long one... and it's been full "

" i worked as a cherry-picker on a fruit farm, i served in the army during the war, i was a nurse-volunteer for the Red Cross, i've had three daughters, twelve grandchildren, and many great grandchildren"

" I dont remember names... but i remember the first time Michael and I held hands... i remember my first kiss... i remember hearing on the news that the great war was over... i remember the first christmas that my daughters bought me a present...a red scarf... and i remember what a pain this daughter was, both coming out of me, and ever after! "

" I've had a full life. Can i go home and carry on, please?"



I discharged Fran.
I walked down the road and bought myself a lamb doner burger with extra mayonnaise.
I'm going to change radio stations.
I'm going to try find the rest of my life.

the memory of you, dying

Perfume seeping into blackness
Death has me in a gasp -

the rustle of your gown, brushing
quickly against my reaching fingers

must let your argument out,
i hear it bouncing off my thoughts

the ache lingers deliciously,
the taste metallic

in flashes of life
i see you,
i'm cold
- numbed

homer sapien

homer simpson is a hero.
actually, he might even be a superhero.

homer is a klutz.
yes. so?
he knows he's clumsy. he may blow up the nuclear power plant at any moment, agreed... but he isn't ever malicious. which is more than i can say about a lot of people i know. he actually shows up for work ( which is more than i can say for myself on a bad day! ). he's actually loved by his mates and colleagues ( alright, alright, i'll admit i get on with a few of mine).

homer is a loser.
or so they say. things are always going wrong, yes. but i think he's the classic underdog. the guy who's not 'good' at anything. he's the guy that makes 'mere mortals' feel good about themselves. so he isn't the absolute epitome of intelligence, he's not the paragon of virtue, he's not the poster boy for baywatch, and he's not the CEO of the nuclear power plant that he's constantly trying to blow up.
but he makes second best seem alright. in fact, he makes being a nobody seem positively cool. im tired of winners. the constant pressure that people are under to "achieve". the rats who are so busy running the race, that they dont care anymore to stop and smell the cheese.

homer is a crazy dad.
he cant remember his kids' names, he's constantly in a fit because of bart, always forgetting lisa even exists, and calls maggie mini-lisa! ( my dad still gets victor and me mixed up! ). Supernanny must be bursting vessels every time she watches homer trying to deal with his kids. psychologists must think that those kids are headed for a dysfunctional adulthood ( its always your dysfunctional childhood to blame, isn't it? ). but most parents start off that way. there is no "right way " to bring up your kids, is there? he loves them. and does his darndest. worked with my parents didn't it? ( well, alright, bad example. but im not totally kooky. i swear. its only the weekends)

homer is good for nothing.
he sings in a quartet. 'the be sharps' ( i love the punny ones. especially when they win grammy awards! )
he met bono. and spoke at a U2 concert. as Commissioner of Springfield Sanitation.
he fell over aerosmith at moe's. so he can claim to have close personal contact with steven tyler.
he's been capital city capitals' baseball team mascot... and run onto the field during a game.
he's been an astronaut, car designer, blackjack dealer, internet entrepreneur, town crier and inventor.
i must say that these are all things i ve wanted to be at different times in my life.


homer is lovable.
homer is the underdog who we're always rooting for.
homer stands for all the guys who try.
and all the loser ones. and all the ones who think they have no friends.
and all the ones who dont believe romance is for them.
if marge can love homey, the way she does, then all those cliches about love and romance must be true.
it must be what's inside that counts. cos pizza stained, burpy, beer guzzling slob did alright.


but, then again, is he my hero?
are we backing him just because we are too afraid to try and better ourselves?
do we condone his slobbish laziness because it makes us feel better in comparison?
and is he the role model we want to emulate?
is this the perpetuation of the great equalizer that mediocrity is?

i do love homer.
and i think the writers are geniously funny.
and i dont quite know if he inspires me to be better, or gives me an excuse to laze.
am i like ned flanders, apu nahasapeemapetilon, marge simpson, or barney gumble?
am i good & caring, focussed & workaholic, loving & true, or just a lazy slob?
personally, i find myself like lisa. foolishly idealistic. but trying, all the same.

and you thought this was just another show that you watched?

why i loved being a kid

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

i loved being a kid..... i loved not having a care in the world.....
i loved sleeping like a baby....
i loved being lost in my own world of ghosts, goblins, elves and the ent people....
i loved being able to see things in my own weird, special, strange, inexplicable way.
The trees trusted me with their ancient secrets.... clouds reached out their spindly fingers to beckon me to the other side.... the smell of rain, and running out in into puddles as soon as they formed..... i miss being a kid.

i always wonder if this is whats wrong with us. us, humanity, i.e.
i wonder why people want to grow up... i wonder if we realize how much we change when we grow up. and always for the worse.

i was much nicer as a kid. i actually washed my hands before i stuck them into my food. or anyone else's. while they were still eating it.

i was much kinder as a kid. i did laugh at people. but only when they slipped down and fell. especially when they slipped on the mess i'd made on the floor. by squishing toothpaste and ketchup...just to see if it looked good. or tasted good.

i was much smarter when i was a kid. telling right from wrong was easier. probably cos there were no gray areas. i didn't rationalize. i knew it was wrong. i didn't justify. i said i was sorry. i didn't avoid. i said i didn't know. i didn't make excuses. i told stories.

and oh, i could tell stories. i dint tell them like tony blair does. i dint lie, like george w does. i knew they were stories. everyone knew they were stories. but thats what they loved. that they were honest tales. very tall. very colourful. very fantastic. full of the stuff that exists only in your head. but they were truly, honestly, made up. i loved telling stories. i loved the expressions of incredulity and fright and curiosity on a listening face. it gave me a buzz. we lived in a world where we believed. we questioned. but only to know more. we imagined. in a very lennon way.

i wish i could go back. not a care in the world ( other than homework. and whether natasha would let me copy it from her again! ). i made friends easily. and they stayed for life. the gang from school are still the closest friends i have. they'll always be. of course, i still finish the ice cream lolly before they come, so i dont have to share it with them. but then, the point is, that they didn't mind eating what was left of my half-eaten, licked-all-over-lolly.

i just dont seem to make the effort anymore with people i meet. you just know its going to be short lived. they might move, i might move, they might get in a new relationship, i might get a new dog, they might have personal issues, i might have pups. theres always things that come up. i understand that. and accept it. i just feel sad that i dont let myself get close to people anymore.

i was a lot less inhibited as a kid ( now i need a whole pitcher of beer ). i really did run out and splash in puddles when it rained. completely soaking wet. and completely, idiotically happy. the last time i did that was a couple of years ago. abrupt downpour in april, when the rain is warm, the weather stormy, the smell nostalgic and the puddles dirty brown. victor, bruce and me. three "grown lads" splashing around in the middle of the street, and in the middle of the day ( i should file that away as one of those "happy places" to go to when i finally have my nervous breakdown ). but what i also remember, is the number of people that made enquiries of my mum later. asking if i really was a doctor. if i was ...uh... maybe... "slow"?

i cling to the child in me. perhaps its strange. perhaps morbid. but it keeps me from getting too cynical and disappointed. disappointed with the world in general, and what we've done to it. i do my bit too. i use less electricity. by not taking showers too often. or eating out of the cereal box ( saves water - no dishes to do ). i try not drive too much ( but there's a limit to how often i can bunk work ). less telly. more comics. see? comics will save the world, i tell you.



He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!