NY memories:

Clubbing scenes, dirty streets, late night escapades, kati roll and sweets, cold stones, central parking, jammed parking, miniscule dogs barking, lombardi’s, puk, zanzibar, Lesouk, pipa, faluka, 3 AMs but still bhuka, afghani, rice to riches, beautiful piers, but no bloody beaches, karaoke, Ethiopian, crazy people on the streets but thankfully egalitarian, chika on a day off, then movie in AMC, Saravanas or chennai garden?, better than cheesy serendipity, Chinese mirch, bowling alley, chelsea beers!, the taste of mango lassi, maritime and rooftop bar, underground, lotus, and “subway” not London underground, analyst events, cruise around the city, no dinner and its freaking 2.30!, khyber pass with the closest 2, mughlai food obsession, and golfing but no bloody participation!, work soups at hale and hearty, plaza terrace with times square view, hampton chutney fusion, café lalo with a chosen few, glass, sheesha with fuss, max brennars!, boathouse but no veggie food for us, world cup soccer on the beach, FIFA soccer on the xbox, crazy car drifting game, yet no cable for the idiot box, wireless blues, visits from babsonites, cooking spree, traveling with samsonites, cooking spree with yum kadhee, iron chef gowns, kantaben’s excellence but indiscipline, halloween clowns, jaiya thai, pam real, CFA beard, honey bunch cereal, disappearing grocery stores, run by the westside highway, megu with colleagues, walking people uttering, ‘get the f out of my way’, byrant park performances, hand in hand in times square, remembering torta, demonstrations about tiananmen square, taking lovely to la lanterna, cityseach all the time, poker nights, getting tempted for a gamble some times, atlantic city plans, vegas plans, cape cod plans, and then some unfulfilled plans, blonde moments, procrastinating champ, erratic pundits, starbucks in hand, financier find, duane reade visits, new york public library, trailers at lowe’s and other youtube snippets, gmailing on 17astuds, crazy good time at kush, bhai-bhabi’s trip, dave and buster’s and me khush, Macy’s confusion, thanksgiving day parade exclusivity, 25 broadway office, client office proximity, statue of liberty, empire state, highline with work folks, trips to DC, NH, MA states, exciting thursday nights, exhausted Fridays, worthless Saturdays and then anxious Sundays, imaginasian, MOMAs and METS, Lincoln tunnel, queer looking pets, bar hopping, yet abstinence, nagin dance, coffee handi, drive on FDR, chipotle, taco bell and finally 24G and 17A . . . .

A piece of poetry is a manifestation

Of the self in a form

Unadulterated by realities

And unrestricted by pretences

Old Stories. .

Are we writers or actors, you and I?
I guess it’s like an opening act
Of every play, we were introduced
But ourselves we crafted each scene
With patience and tact.

Did we crumble the paper each time?
We just inaudibly brainstormed
An embryonic idea, we quietly refused
The ordinary or unexceptional but chose
The one that was majestic and splendid.

Did we follow the plot as directed?
I guess we just played our part
Like the sailors at sea, workers in a factory
Soldiers at war or citizens by a decree
Eternally in sync from the very start.

Were we separated or together?
Writers don’t depart from their story line
But all is not blissful and cheery
Sting is released onto the actor’s life
“Part of life”, they say, “It will be fine.”

Did we bring our panache into the act?
Like natural actors and their flair
Embodiment of the tragic and heroic
Story is there for readers to read
But splendor we bring

- Niral

...to be continued . .