Dust Storm (Photo credit: expom2uk)

Winds knock on our door,

Hoping to push it ajar,

Seek refuge from the dust they stirred,

Hesitant then, now so hurried,

Frantic, chased by a fearsome foe,

By their own making, a lament, a woe,

Brown tinged,  sands spin in a swirl,

From the heated hills, a horrid twirl,

The eerie cat cries, no place to hide,

From the caves, the dogs whine in fright,

Windows darkened, sound cracked,

You and me,  and hope so huddled,

We hope to wear this dusk out,

Into a long, uncertain night.

Related articles

• Yours
• I wrote a poem in the shower.
• my first poem
• Justice Stein, Concurring
• Published Poem

Several years they had rusted,

Shelved– lost, sad, trusted,

Tonight, at the crest of solitude,

With my feeble breath, I dusted,

In tenderness and in quietude,

Uncovered , unveiled, flipped,

Inside, found  flowers dried,

Now freckled, they winked ,

Your message conveyed,

That you had read,

Left but loved.

Unshed,  held back,

Still.

Save the murmur of the backwater,

Rhyming ripples in soft whisper,

A lagoon of feeling,

Deep in, hurting,

Counter flows of emotion,

Unkempt passion,

Unbridled,wild,

Yet restrained,

All I know is

I am lost,

In that droplet.

Letting Go (Photo credit: Liamfm .)

Cannot  let   you  go ,

Fond  memories,  slow,

A  spear   in the  heart ,

Plunge  deep  at  depart,

Loss, stress,  hurt, short  breath,

Passion moves past earth,

You  need  to stay long,

Belong to  my  song,

Renunciation?

Repudiation?

Refute hope ? joy ? dream?

Sorrow  heap  in  ream!

All I know for sure.-

Can’t let go:   near, far.

Related articles

• Why do we blog?

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Though the photographer is not seen in the photo, he exists.

The painter is not visible in the painting, but his brush and marks are all over.

A mason keeps on building houses he does not live in.

The author seeks a quietude that inspires thoughts.

Thoughts in him advance only if he  withdraws to self.

An orderly  retreat from attachment.

A masterly inactivity.

Detachment is ideal  to contemplate, concentrate, to be creative.

The author chronicles the times and tides, the agonies and the ecstasies.

He is in the story but has to be away.

He hears the unheard and sees the unseen.

The author’s dilemma is unless he experiences , he cannot feel

Unless he feels, he cannot write.

He needs creative silence to express.

Author’s disquietude is a natural harmony.

Related articles

• Prompt for the Promptless; Wu wei
• wu wei , do or don’t do
• Prompts for the Promptless – Ep. 4 – Wu Wei
• Prompts for the Promptless – Ep. 4 – Wu Wei
• Prompts for the Promptless – Wu Wei
• Prompts for the Promptless – Ep. 4 – Wu Wei

Kerala Backwaters View (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I sit  by these backwaters, in expectation,

Dip my hand in the coolness of brackish blue and moss green,

Small fish nibble at my toes in affectionate tickle,

Houseboats glide past waving their oars at me,

The pearl spot  fish  eye me shy, each afternoon,

Evening hours,  I sit here under the neighbor’s coconut tree,

Round the mud mound and caving bend, the four o clock boat surfs slow

As I struggle to inter- lock coconut leaves into an orb,

A substitute for my lost tennis ball,

Which my angry friend threw in a fit,

Over the wall of dried, shriveled  coconut husks,

It rolled into the water, skidded, sadly drifted away,

Mom said I might get a new one, with Dad’s next salary.

Earlier,  I  hoped  for my tennis ball  to float back,

Now, I wait for my friend to  return.

Related articles

• Vembanad – The Backwater Delight
• Kerala Backwaters

Who’s the Boss? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is a story of people management.

I was posted as a manager in a regional office of a bank. Within the organization, I had earned a reputation as a dynamic officer and was consequentially, rewarded with the charge of a regional office.  Something to be proud of for a young aspirant. I was ambitious; had a career to  look forward to; a hierarchical position to reach. I used to be a reputed disciplinarian then who insisted on efficiency, efficacy and punctuality. Set an example myself. Walked the talk. I knew that my 20 odd staff who worked in my office admired me. Internally, I was proud of myself, a young professional or ‘yuppie’.

Among the staff was Venky, a forty year old officer who had been in the office for longer years than anyone else. On the day of my reporting, I observed that he was rather casual in his dress and indifferent to me in approach. Unlike the rest, he did not seem to bother much for the new ‘boss’. There was a sense of ‘deja vu’ in his eyes. As a young , fast rising  yuppie, my ego was hurt.

Venky thus moved over to my caution list. Over the next few days, I observed Venky to be a habitual latecomer, coming in between thirty to forty minutes late every morning. The office had no arrival- departure check in; our system was built on employee trust. I felt that this habitual lack of punctuality was a breach of trust.

I tried to check up on his back office desk whether he was up to date (you may call me a ‘snoopervisor‘;  an act  unbecoming of a supervisor, but a yuppie has to have a self preservation instinct);  I found that his desk had no arrears of work. I was not satisfied with my research;  I felt that office protocol was being subjected to strain by Venky.

In two weeks,   I observed that  he left office a couple of days early- by 2 hours!. I checked up with the human resource (HR)  officer on the irregular  habits of Venky. To my assessment, the HR Officer seemed hand in glove! As a matter of fact, he stated that  Venky did come late “occasionally”. He clarified that Venky was working in the back office “Sir, we are aware of his late coming habits and have posted him in the back office to avoid any customer interactions”:. The HR officer’s answer seemed evasive and added to my irritation. ‘This HR is ‘accomodative’ , I  thought to myself.

As a young,  aspiring, manager, I decided that I had to intervene. A message had to be conveyed to all. This attitudinal problem with Venky was an opportunity. This had to be set right in larger interests of the office. I instructed the HR Officer to suitably advise Venky and to record in his file that he had advised him.

Venky had by now moved up to the top of my black list. I began monitoring his arrivals and departures. Two weeks later, he was late again. I thought there was a challenge to authority implied there.

I summoned the errant official for an official  chat. Venky seemed glazed as I sought explanation. His silence was deafening and defiant. He would not meet me in the eye. “You have been warned by HR”, I provoked. He was silent and seemed impatient to be done with. “Next time you are late, I may not appreciate it”, I continued. Silence again. My advice seemed to be gone with the wind.

Two weeks later, I noticed he was late on two consecutive days. That, I decided was my ‘Venky moment’. I called in the HR officer and ordered the Venky be issued an official warning.  The HR  officer seemed to be  uncomfortable and pleaded that this letter be withheld for a few days. He pleaded that Venky was current in his work.

” Why delay such action?” , I countered. ” We need  to  drive home to everyone that we are serious about maintaining office etiquette”. I insisted that I sign the letter the very same day. The HR  officer, reluctant though, complied. I left that evening with a sense of achievement . I had  again proved myself a strong and effective manager.

The day after

Through out the next day,  cold stares seemed to greet me. Suddenly, I seemed to have lost my colleagues. The warmth in their eyes seemed replaced by some shade of insecurity. Staff seemed even reluctant to respond to my greetings. Eyes looked away.

I called Ms Barve, my secretary to my office. Usually quite enthusiastic, even she seemed reticent to communicate. As the head of the office, I knew I had to seek reasons. I could not antagonize all. I confidentially sought reasons for this divide. Initially she was reluctant. But then someone had to tell me.

“The staff feel that action was quite hasty. You have not understood the man. You are not aware that Venky has a special needs kid. Venky takes this kid of his to the school everyday. Some days, the boy is emotional; he yells and cries and then Venky remains in school till he calms down. Some days, the boy suddenly is upset at school and he gets a call from the teacher there and he has to rush and take the kid home to calm him down… we all have normal children so we do not realise the angusih of the parent”…

That was a tanker of cold, icy water being directed at me. I knew instanteneously that I had taken an ill informed decision. In my megalomania, I seemed to have wronged him. I needed to defend myself from my guilt. So I asked Mrs Barve  ”Why did he not tell me?”.

“He swore us to secrecy not to pass this info to you. He is a man of immense self respect. He says he does not need to exploit the office on sentiments. He told the HR officer not to reveal but to go ahead and issue the memo as that is proper office procedure. He said he respected your desire to send a proper message to staff on punctuality,” she said as she left.

I stared at the ceiling.

Was Venky’s  secretive nature inappropriate?

Should the HR officer have been more transparent?.

As a task driven manager, was I insensate, callous?

Should I withdraw the letter and the warning from the file?

Should I call Venky and apologise?

Daily Prompt: Erasure

Related articles

• Daily Prompt: Erasure or Not?
• Erasure – Erasing an Incident From the Past
• Daily Prompt: Erasure
• Daily Prompt: Erasure, Failure
• Daily Prompt: Erasure
• Daily Prompt: Erasure
• Erasure
• 12:3 Daily Prompt: Erasure

Eating Alone [Explored] (Photo credit: pennuja)

Green, wet, banana leaf in colors, splashes,
Your favorite pickle, spicy flashes,

I turn away to  stare at the ashen  floor-
its ginger and – lime red in oil and more,

Think of you;  cannot eat.

Recall  that  you abetted,   as we bunked,
Bicycled , hid, roamed, ‘berserked’, flunked,

We strayed, tired, dreamt, hungered together,
Told mom sympathy tales; sought food and cover,

Ate in ‘schemed’, swallowed, quietude,
Bonded  as we pretended, hurried.

Tonight, as I sit alone,
Its all memories in stone,

Rice, curry, fish and lime.
My thoughts wish sublime.

Related articles

• So You Want a Poem?
• This Is Not A Poem
• [poetry friday] “Ordinary” – a Poem Starter
• 59 – One Chance
• Living In Houses
• In Defence of a Poet!
• I Wrote A Poem For You

Shiva (Photo credit: GraceOda)

Scale of life, of death , of time,

Thunder drum – sounds of creation,

Sun  fiery,  entangled in your locks,

Arch a  halo – gyrated,  burnt!

Destruction! Undone, balanced.

Trampling elephantine ignorance,

Serpentine  fall of unlocked  tresses,

Liberating the cosmos in hurtling bliss,

Universe rocked by your steps,

Trembling in awe at your prowess,

You rush through the space of nothingness

Dance! through this timelessness

Dispel the unseen, unheard, unfelt,

Teach me to sing, to dance, to drum

To create, to protect, to renew,

To reconstruct  from the embers.

Related articles

• Schadenfreude- a pleasure derived from the misfortune of others …