Temple Erotica

Why did our ancestors choose to
Mix the profound with the profane
The sensual with the sublime
To adorn their temples with erotica
- Blue films on stone?


Because they said
This is your body, your flesh
Composed of the five elements
And this is the vista of pleasure
Base, carnal yet pure
That it can offer


Recognize it, know it, accept it
And then shake it off-
Water from a lotus leaf


Then and only then
Enter the portals
Of the sanctum of your soul
And search for your Creator.

SELF IMAGE

1.

a

person of

no significance

a tireless ant, crawling

up, down , sideways, twisting, scurrying

with a headload along the pathways in the

corporate anthill, thinking this is the universe

this is the cause. And the wages of this exalted

drudgery and glorified, coveted slavery - tolerable existence.

2.

Small town boy

don’t you feel lost

amidst the glitteratti,

the shimmering chandeliers,

the shining silverware,

the starched napkins,

the polished cutlery,

the almost silent footfalls,

the stilted conversation,

the tinkling laughter.

Did you remember your lessons?

Fork in your left hand and

knife in your right.

Or was it the other way round?

3.

What am I?

Sensitivity, a sense of fairness

- Bengali genes , I guess.

Upper class/caste machismo,

typically Hindi heartland,it is a put on)

- almost entire life spent in Bihar,

rites of passage to manhood retained.

Ability to make decent conversation

In tolerable English (accent varying from ersatz-BBC to New Delhi doublespeak),
depending upon the listener and a veneer

- Jesuit education in the formative years and

What else but BBC!

Analytical, logical, expressive and assertive

- professional training and experience.

Abrasive, rough-grained and aggressive

- school of hard knocks and growing up in a rough mohalla in a small town,
where fists and tongue go together. 'Been there, seen it' -

that's simply smart-ass attitude,

I guess!

So, what am I?

An incurable optimist.

4.

Physical frame

Optimistic 5'8"

65 kilograms, down from 70

slightly squat, lifetime of exercise and peasant genes

recently touched by hyper-thyroidism

eating away at assidiously collected pectorals, biceps and triceps,

receeding hairline, more salt than pepper beard

nose bent during boyhood foray in to boxing,

missing tooth- motorcycle accident in misspent youth,

on the whole a used face.
Used, abused, misused by life

too many cigarettes

too many long nights

too many books.

I was aiming at larger than life, till

Life cut me down to size.

5.

A sense of ennui,

Tiredness, scepticism if you like
Creeps in insidiously

When one takes stock

Of the things achieved

Against the price paid

Do not simply add up.

The question just keeps on popping up, time and again.

Is it all worth the pain?

What happens if one just gives up

And let's go?

We ask a great deal of life

Thank you Virginia Woolf

As you so succinctly put it.

I ask for:

- life to be fair

- life to be just

- effect to follow cause

- efforts to culminate in results

- the good, honest to be rewarded

- the bad punished

- love to beget love

- good behaviour to be reciprocated

- politicians to be honest and politics clean

- bad things not to happen to good people

Now, that's a tall order! I am indeed

Asking a great deal of Life!

Proposition

The present me


As defined by the mental frame-


I am the product of millions


And millions of incidents, accidents,


Circumstances and impulses.


A thousand cross-currents


Have tagged me along.


A smile, quirked eyebrows,


Pouting lips, a pointing finger,


An upraised hand, a frown,


A smirk, sighs and


Coos of approval


Each


Has moulded, bent, deviated,


Eroded and formed me.


So, take me


For what I am


And not what I should have been,


And I'll do the same too.

Forget the rearview mirror, forgive

Craftily it proclaims,


“OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR MAY BE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR”


(it’s a blatant lie!)


Preying on your fears of your past chasing you


Magnifying, establishing its place in your life.


The rearview mirror


Seduces you with the backward glances,


The pleasure-pain narcotic;


Leaves you wallowing in self-pity


And self-recrimination.


Sucks you deeper in to the whirlpool,


Of a past-centric life.


Takes your eyes away


From


The vistas unfolding


Future-present-future………


The possibilities.


Wrests control of your life and


Gives the future to your past.


In the ultimate analysis


You are unable to


Forgive others


Forgive yourself


And carry forever the baggage of your past.


You become a rearview mirror