The Ballad of the Unknown

a beautiful meadow that once was
lies now barren and hollow
what happened here, oh my
seems there's so much sorrow

never was there purer love
then they fought over trifles
once they spoke without words
now they talked with rifles

when one shot the other
oh! did he gasp in pain
why oh why couldn't he stop
tears falling like rain

another shot was fired
took his own life
life became useless
because of aimless strife

will they find redemption
beyond the shadow of the night
will they be judged fairly
by time in all its right

what can we learn from this
bickering battering fools
in our petty hatred
we drown in bloody pools

maybe we should all think twice
before firing the first shot
remember its the one who left
who suffers most of the lot

if we could only forgive each other
remember were all out of place
we could all try again
make this world a better place

Lemon Sunrise

didn't drink, didn't party
didn't get down to anything nasty
but your still head hurt, hungover

didn't scream, didn't shout
didn't even go all walkabout
but your feel that your life is over

got tired of making lemonade
wipe that smile off your pretty face
i'm waiting for the lemon sunrise

didn't know life sucked but hey
didn't know it any other way
but your still here anyway

oranges and lemons are stupid poetry
all we want to say is love me love me
and it still good, though a lemon sunrise

Tomorrow

too many dreams, too many hearts to break
some sleep at night some before daybreak

floating in the clouds or the depths of song
flying blinded by the sun and sirens song

meeting the angels in their candy houses
keeping the fire burning in their hearts

dog eat dog today, howling yelping thunder
tomorrow will be my day i think i wonder

Onward

You are gone now
And I never really knew
One of the few sparks
Lingers on

A faint impression
A little shared
Whatever might have been
Passes on

Will there be tomorrow
Before its too late
Outrun life itself but it
Catches on

Meaningless in meaning
Feelings but fleeting
Skip a breath but time
Marches on

Cold Escape

He looked back for the first time since he had run away. Made sure that the airlock behind him was shut, an impenetrable barrier  between him and the ship he was now fleeing. He felt surprisingly calm, his heart making the only sound in the cylinder the size of a small closet. His mind was calm now, it had to be, he was going to do something he'd never done before, but it was his only chance.

He checked  the small object in his hands, a tiny thing the size of a pocket watch. He had to make sure that the internal cooling mechanism wasn't damaged, so he removed his glove and felt it in his bare hands. Boy! the cold sent a shiver up his spine, but he felt good about it. His thoughts turned to the present as he realized he had 5 maybe 10 minutes before security found him and chased him down. The next step was to wear the spacesuit,  there always was a spacesuit in airlocks, regulation R138-5 if he remembered  correctly.

Wearing a spacesuit  isn't like wearing any other suit, there is only one large thing to  get into but 20 little things to adjust and make sure are fitted and  working. Unlike evening dresses however the downside is not a fashion  faux pas but certain death, he thought about it and smiled, given what  he was about to do next, risking death was hardly a worry. He tucked the thing in a pocket in the exoskeleton of the spacesuit and said a small prayer; he didn't pray much, at all really but now was not the time to spite the Gods. He steeled his mind as he wore his helmet and  snapped it shut. Whoosh began the sound as he hit the switch to open  the airlock doors.

Poem: Sunrise

The hare left her silent trail
On the grassy bank bare
Hopping across the wind
She floats into the sunset

There will always be a sunset
As I sit watching here
In my hands cold comfort
As I stand rooted in yesterday

And while the sands of tomorrow
Are chiseled rock still
Seeing past the sunset blinds
Binds us to the dark of night

And we fail to see today
The shimmering sunrise

Very Very Special

The recently concluded test between India and Australia at Mohali was a classic. It had great individual performances, enough drama and all three results were possible until the final day. The final minutes had no less melodrama than a Bollywood movie and like such movies, we got a happy ending.

VVS played yet another special knock which he seems to capable of producing on demand against Australia, but this post is not about that. I would scarcely add anything new to the accolades so richly heaped on him and his innings. I am also not going to talk about how Laxman now averages 50 in the second innings of a test match, or how he averages 51 batting down at 6 in the order, or why he has only converted 16 of his 62 50+ scores into hundreds.

What I am going to talk about is how test cricket remains alive, despite it being "old", falling viewership and despite only 4 countries who really play cricket at test standard (India, Australia, SA and England), 5 if you count SL and NZ at their home grounds respectively, 6 if Pakistan turns up.

T20 showcases skills. Big hitting, clever flicks into vacant areas, scampered runs, lots of slower/faster balls, doosras, carrom balls, electric fielding. It fun while it lasts, however like having too many tequila shots I'm afraid for younger players who will wake up with bad hangovers someday when they realize that never really became great students of the game.

Test cricket can often be boring but often it is not, it is however rather subtle and often not amenable to immediate enjoyment. This is where a shout has to go to all those people (like my dad) who took young and clueless guys like me to games and explained all the intricacies, it is truly a priceless gift.

The fact that it’s more than just the skills, but also the mental aspect makes it truly a "test". Test cricket pushes players and viewers alike to their very limit and then some. The notion of a draw, I think is also very important to the essence of test cricket. Most other games demand that there be a winner, but that's a simplification that life does not afford and therefore neither should test cricket. There is something romantic about a hard fought draw that artificially forced tie-breakers do not have. Bowl outs might be fun to watch, but give me a final over 1 wicket to take situation any day.

C.L.R James once famously asked "What do they know of cricket who only cricket know”. I'm quite sure he was referring to test cricket here.

An ode to Water

Three tiny atoms dancing
Forever joined at the hip
All dissolving crystal clear
So much of me is you

You are life, you are death
You are both health and wealth
When you rain down, I find
The world washes its pain away

When you are not there
Lost, I see mirages
Shivering in a dark place
You hide, I embrace you

I've taken you for granted
But you're there even when I cry
All I know that if you leave
The world will say goodbye

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Poem: Not You

The sun shines though
The clouds are escaping
You are not here
As I lay thinking

The perfume I smell
Is now wet earth
Damp with morning dew
Everything looks fresh

A faint sound far
A lonely bird chirping
This silence is more than
Talk of matters exciting

Nothing to do today
No one to be but me
Failing to be perfect
For you now I'm free