My Little Log Book

I was walking home from school Running along, skipping along Playing hide and seek In the deep jungle trails Loving their many secrets Chasing the dappled shadows The bag on my shoulders My meagre notes and books Forgotten in my wonder world A smile on my lips As I went hush hush after a squirrel ...Stepping on a twig Was the noise very loud? What did I hear? Was that more twigs breaking? Foolishly, still unconcerned As I spy the squirrel again, But not for long... They creep up Trample the mossy bed Chase away the sun's rays And give a howl of laughter So I know they are near With no place to go, No place to hide Have you seen hyenas Hunting sniffing playing with their prey I am the prey The bloody boots finally leave With my smile... hunger satiated Over my trodden bag, broken body That was not the end My halting story uttered Hunted, haunted, deserted My tale twisted, my virginity plundered Many times over I was a pariah, thrown...

I don't think any subject can aspire to be as aspiring or as all comprehensive as architecture. People think architects only learn to make plans. No. They are taught to have an eye for colour, rhythm, pattern, taught distinctive styles ranging from the medieval to modern, taught climatic conditions and what type of built environment suits each one, taught about materials, old and new, learn about construction and structural techniques ranging from stone, bricks, steel, concrete to present day  new age materials. History, sociology, botany, a bit of geology all form a part of what they need to know. Truly, botany? Right! They need to understand plants and know which types provides what kind of shade and goes with which type of environment! Plus obviously they learn drawing plans, elevations, sections to represent all that they know. Wait. They don't just sit at a computer and start drawing plans. They spend a couple of years practising drafting on a drawing board. Then th...

Of Many Colours I wore blue today. Royal Blue That is how I feel when I step out under the winter sky Bluebells on the hedges, blue bougainvilleas with their fluttering dry paper leaves Ice cold blue with blue bangles You had better keep your distance from me So they don’t offend you, my blue veins that stand out Getting up in the morning, taking my bath at dawn Washing those left over dishes And drying those cold clothes I wore blue today To feel the glitter in my blue eyes, for I am tired of feeling grey Is pink my colour? It gives the colour to my cheeks When my husband brings me a gift But more often when my in laws point out my mistakes I can hide under my pink lips, bangles and ribbons The blushes turn to anger soon Again that is pink and can be kept under wraps Like my pink dupatta which hid my embarrassment From the repulsive maulings Of a revered teacher or a co-passenger or a kin So I wear a brighter pink To hide behind...