What had happened was Giggles over a picnic spread Thick layers of marmalade Stacks of thin crepes Trickles of blueberry Glasses of lemonade Under the mulberry tree Just dreams of summer Stained with myriad colors As in the winter sun I lay Thinking of you and all That you just left behind!
On a Sunday morning A summer-perfumed breeze Rocks the hammock A book cover gazes Vacantly at azure skies A fly lazily sits on the rim Of an empty flute of nectar Thoughts doze off embracing An idyllic disregard For chores and such Until a mundane morrow
In the fleeting darkness Only dreams survive On the chariot of dawn That rises from the ashes Of a horizon in cinders Lost to the dying lights Of lonely burning skies! The dark broom of night Sweeps away stardust From under the canopy Of a dazzling firmament Slowly lost in the distance
Anu Kay’s novel, Like the Radiant Sun, is an engaging tale spanning a plethora of themes. It is a thriller full of suspense with the mild aroma of a romance playing out in the foreground of a mystical, mythological drama. It has the feel of a Bollywood movie and the enticement of a well-researched and rendered novel.
Is it destined or planned that a precious, ancient text lands in the hands of an archaeologist, Rohan Sharma? He is just the man to appreciate, interpret, and preserve the words outlining a rare discipline of combat with esoteric origins. But is he also the man who embodies the physical and mental prowess to outsmart the baddies desperate to lay their hands on the Marma Kala, an ancient manuscript on martial arts?
I thought I’d survive without you But I couldn’t say goodbye For the words lay tangled At your doorstep Afraid to cross the threshold Into a life where you Would not be waiting At sundown, by the yellow lamp A book in hand, the kettle whistling Eager to tell and know Of just another mundane day
Sequined dreams In the sky As I stitch every teardrop Into the firmament For you to see when You gaze at the moon In my memory
It was a strong heart But feather-light it floated Buoyed by dreams, hopes Reaching the sky so blue; Tie it firmly with icy strings Till the cold permeates Freezes that tender love For warm and flush It tends to bleed red Staining all the world!
What colors do you see, In this unfinished portrait? It waits for blue From the waves To fill vacant eyes A contrary wind Reversed ocean To bring you back
In the hourglass of the mind Thoughts weighing us down Settle like silica at the bottom Casting psychedelic shadows On the fragile glass walls That hold the soul captive In the kaleidoscope of Silver-laced desires Golden-tinted visions Slowly trickling through Narrow passages of life Until all that remains are Fantasies and fairytales Forever trapped in time!
The glorious orb of life Has disappeared behind The smog of callous living Heavy smoke stings the eyes Blinding haze separates us, A dying earth consumes much As ashes rain, acids scald Green is now breathless gray Blue has long lost its blaze Brown is the barren land There are no pathless woods Where one can escape From gassed urban prisons; We know not were to go No cresting foliage of respite; Just black gloom sneaking in From the recesses of our minds
Comeback is a compilation of poems on the theme of bouncing back from a dire circumstance to regain a former favorable condition. The book will be available on Amazon from November 15, 2021 and features some of my poems on the theme.
While I am quite a techno-enthusiast and a fan of emerging tech wizardry, I am not keen on a virtual world as a way of existence. It’s all hep and geeky when used for specific and specialized purposes in a controlled environment. It is scary as an extension of our personal lives, infiltrating our homes.
I am all for virtual robotic surgeries or a few global corporate off-sites, maybe simulated training but I don’t want a virtual holiday or have children don avatars and hone online personas. I would rather have my son scuba-dive than wearing virtual reality (VR) glasses to “experience” the ocean world.
Technology is already out-of-hand in our social spheres. From fake news to fake videos to cyber crimes and bullying to physical and emotional consequences, how will we handle the ensuing psychological crisis? How do people, the sensitive ones, the children, navigate the thin line between reality and virtuality? The more we should be connecting with nature and the world, returning to our roots, and being grounded, the more we are rushing towards self-imposed cubicles and flights of fantasy.
Isaac Asimov feared the robots will take over humanity and it’s happening now as we become mental robots, manipulated by make-believe worlds. The threat is not from artificial intelligence but from our eroding intelligence. Aldous Huxley’s Soma is in our veins; it’s the digital dopamine. George Orwell’s exposition of mind-reading state surveillance and propaganda is larger than we can ever imagine. Every data, every bit and byte, is leaving indelible digital footprints. Dystopian fiction is no more fiction. Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale is reflected in increasing infertility, oocyte cryopreservation, exorbitant surrogacy industry, all in the name of female choices.
Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 came true long back. Reading is now forgotten past time and censorship is a more common term than ever. Now, we binge-watch web series, stuffing our mouths with popcorn and processed food, and our minds with the images created by others. Slowly, we will lose our ability to think and imagine. As we cruise at top speed to emulate the world in Phillip Dick’s Minority Report, we will succumb to the Metaverse in the culmination of all our dystopian nightmares. Taking a spin on the question by Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, will future cyberpunk generations wonder Do Humans Still Dream of a Material World!
The logo of Metaverse is the Infinity symbol. It invokes a universe that keeps us in a hyperloop. Enter at your peril for once in, there is no visible escape route.