On the water

Flashy white boats on the water,

Zipping around with no superior purpose

Than to entertain.

Helmed by monied ones leading luxurious lives

Wanting to escape worries of inequalities that abound.

Great black boats on the water

Chugging along around the world and back again,

Laden with great tons of consumable matter.

Beasts of burden, tools with the sole purpose

Of feeding the voracious appetite of this insatiable world.

Blue boats on the water,

Heading to a place of magic and mayhem where spinning wheels tell tales and twist fortunes

Wild and whimsical.

Over the years, many have come and gone

But the few who stayed on witnessed the waves of a million riches won and lost.

Red and white boats on the water,

Back and forth to just beyond the horizon.

So near yet largely unknown,

A realm of discovery for reclusive metropolitan dwellers

Hustling across the water by day, only to retreat into tranquillity after dark.

Junk boats on the water,

Brown and black, stunning red sails.

Mystical and iconic remnants of maritime greatness.

Transformed into ornate ferries

Propagating fairy-tale visions of the glorious past to myriad wanderers.

A motley multitude of workman boats on the water,

Commandeered by hard-working crew of vital skills, irreplaceable

Yet innocuous to all but a discerning few.

The best ones of them all,

Fulfilling and meaningful lives spent in virtuous isolation. 

Satyajit Venkatraman

30^th December 2017

all these years...

all these years

i told myself i was happy.

i thought i was a good man.

while life always went by

in the blink of an eye.

all these years

i felt i had a good life.

i went around the world.

always on the move

chasing new dreams and making new friends.

and all the while, i was missing

a piece of me that grew a little each day.

and all the while, time just passed by.

but how could i have known?

all these years

i enjoyed the good things

i revelled in pompous comforts

with an attitude that some considered obnoxious

while others thought was unburdened luxury.

all these years

i thought i was free spirited.

i flew over the rooftops and green fields.

fuelled by the drug of freedom

nothing could hurt me at all.

and all the while, i was missing

a piece of me that grew a little each day.

and all the while, time just passed by.

but how could i have known?

all these years

i hear magical music.

voices comfort me with soft whispers

while i asleep,

the serene slumber of happiness.

all these years

i see lucid visions

that take me to enchanted lands

and still i sleep

afloat in a sea of tranquility.

and all the while, i was missing

a piece of me that grew a little each day.

and all the while, time just passed by.

but how could i have known?

(…to be continued…)

- satyajit venkatraman
January 2012

i am...

i sing my own tunes.
no training or talent to speak of
but i create a thousand songs everyday
inspired masterpieces of art they are not
but everyone loves them.

i dance to my own rhythm.
no stage fright or anxiety perceivable,
i can perform anywhere, at any time.
at times graceful, often amusing
but always entertaining.

i march to my own command.
with no care for rules or orders
but with a determined, almost obsessive, single-minded focus.
always doing what i want, when i want to;
even so, no one complains.

i’m scared of my own shadow.
and everything that moves or is still.
on the other hand, i can be incredibly brave
and do things no one else dares to do
as if there were the simplest tasks.

i walk on my own path.
stumbling, crawling and scrambling,
i move forward as much as in reverse.
never giving up,
until i reach my goal.

i write my own story.
with peerless creativity and imagination;
using any tools and substances i can find.
so advanced are my plots,
they are rarely understood by others.

i speak my own truth.
through hitherto unknown languages and media;
lucid and insightful but never philosophical,
my theories of life and truth
are often not popular or wide-spread.

i live my own life.
away from the all the pervading chaos,
in my own imaginary land.
unaware of the ways of the world and
at peace with myself and all around.

i am a child.

- satyajit venkatraman
21st July 2011

set yourself free

what happened to the serenity of simple living?
an easy and dignified existence.
sitting by the ocean, watching ripples in the water:
endless, limitless, flowing through our minds with nowhere to go,
the waves had no objective but to be there for us to watch.
we lived our own lives, honest and harmonious;
idyllic fragments in time.
the right to be at peace was not just a law.

where did it come from – that sense of urgency?
the suspicion that all was not as it seemed.
an urge to do more consumed us,
destroying our inherent tranquility.
a deceitful call to wake up and rise above,
lying to us about everything we knew as real.
an invisible force lifting us,
coercing us to break out of our ordinary lives.

have we come too far now?
all we hear are startling echoes of our deeds.
we despair at what we have become.
like scarecrows standing in a field,
we live an endless cycle of night after day,
exhausted from trying to out-run our fate.
why did we leave our blissful lives behind, we reminisce.
must we spend our lives drowned in regret?

where do we go from here?
have we come so far that we don’t remember our past?
but surely, things can be the same again
because we see visions of laughter and contentment.
must our futures be a whirlpool of misery?
or can we save ourselves?
there must be someone out there to help us!
will we have a chance to redeem ourselves?

why must these questions go unanswered?
we can reclaim our lives as our own.
we were peaceful once.
we must refuse to be prisoners in our own hands,
and believe that the future lies in our serene past.
we must set ourselves free.
and find that place again –
where the right to be at peace was not just a law.

- satyajit venkatraman
15th July 2011

this is my feeble response to the mindlessness of the events of 2 days back and the endless list of similar events. And the “mindlessness” is not just limited to the perpetrators but the world in general including the government, other politicians, the media and common people like you and me who claim to be outraged and helpless but cannot (do not want to) do anything more.

what if?

what if there comes a day
when you stop learning and start forgetting what you’ve learnt?
would you be satisfied that you have spent your life learning
and have something that is yours,
even if to forget?
or saddened at not knowing all there was to learn?

what if there comes a day
when you realize that your dreams may never come true?
would you be sad, knowing that you would never
dream another dream?
or enlightened that they were meant to be dreamt
and the inspiration for everything you achieved?

what if there comes a day
when you finally have to admit that you lack the talent?
to play that awesome riff on your guitar
would you grow your hair, pierce your ears and start a garage band?
or would you enjoy the thrill
of pleasant rhythmic strumming?

what if there comes a day
when you know you’re never going to own that red Ferrari?
would you rue the fact that you were never good enough
to achieve what you had always wanted?
or look back and see
all the wonderful things you’ve seen and enjoyed?

what if there comes a day
when you realize you’re closer to the end than the beginning?
would you have lived your life the way that you wanted to
or in the shadow of another?
would you worry about the long way down?
or savour the moment, poised on the edge of the pinnacle?

- satyajit venkatraman
24th February 2011

i own the night

Dark's moon rises high
And shuts the sun from the sky.
Ever so soft, ever so inviting;
She pulls me up, towards her
Like a sunflower pulls the Sun.
The big white smile on her face
Is irresistible.
i fly to the sky, drawn by the power
Of the Dark's moon.
i feel my power, i feel my might.
"You can fly, but only if you want to";
She says to me,
"And i can make you fly, only if you want to."
i'm flying, i'm soaring, i own the night.
"No", she says, "i do!"
Too late, i see,
Its just a bait….

- satyajit venkatraman
3rd September 1998

Campaign for…

Campaign for…
Freedom of speech…for the dumb;
Freedom of movement…for the lame;
Freedom of sight…for the blind;
Freedom of thought…for the mindless;
Freedom of life…for the dead;
Where the mind is without fear…there let terror reign!!!

- satyajit venkatraman
22nd March 1999

SV Notes: sorry Mr. Tagore, no offence meant to your beautiful words...just reflects my state of mind back in those days.

The Battle

Shades of night
Melt into the shadows,
As the Mist does battle with
The Rising Sun.
The battle for supremacy
Rages on.
First the Sun, then the other;
The misty dew on the trees
Melts under the power
Of the life-giver, the Sun.
Rays of light
Streaking through the misty morning
The Mist slowly dies but
Lives to fight another day.

- satyajit venkatraman
winter 2000 (?)

SV Notes: Conceived on the bus to Infosys in Bangalore one lovely mid-winter’s morning. Unfortunately, not set down in words at the time. So the thought kind of meanders and I feel doesn’t drive home the beauty perceived.

closet insomniac

you lie awake at night
pondering all the things that might change your life,
things beyond your control,
things you cannot alter.
you cannot fall asleep, try as you might,
and leave a problem unsolved.

you hear eerie sounds
altering your train of thought.
a door shuts softly,
a wooden floor creaks.
is it a guard on the grounds
or your ears trying to keep up with your imagination?

you see a creepy silhouette
standing in the doorway
moving with uncanny elegance.
suspended in mid-air is it something
hung on the door, maybe a jacket?
or an unearthly intruder trying to steal your thoughts?

sleeping peacefully next to you
perhaps dreaming of a parallel universe,
your ever-faithful soul mate
drifts into rapid eye movement.
as if it’s something totally new
you wonder if you will ever be as tranquil?

today ticks over to yesterday
you wish you could just lay back
and relish the serene moonlight.
yearning for elusive slumber that never comes.
still awake at the first rays of dawn you have to say
there is nothing more you want than those forty winks.

(not based on a true story)

- satyajit venkatraman
29th november 2010

what a pity! (2 sides to every story)

these poor little rich kids,
just “hanging” at the street corner.
flaunting their fancy watches and designer clothes.
they burn away their souls and waste their talents
and choose to live on their parents’ gifts.

these poor little misguided kids,
tagging along with their more fortunate “friends”
drooling over what they cannot afford
little do they know
they’d be better off on their own.

these poor little rich people,
earning their millions through "grand manoeuvres".
providing for a comfortable future,
only to find that the next generation
wipes it all away and has to start all over again.

these poor little "underprivileged" people,
scrambling to survive through their sweat and tears;
wishing for what their wealthy neighbours have,
they bend their backs and suppress their sorrows.
when they sleep at night, all they think about is tomorrow.

these poor little “third world” countries,
scurrying to please their prosperous counterparts;
vying for their attention and blessing.
if only they knew
they would do so much better if they didn’t care.

these poor little rich countries
rambling on about their "glorious past"
the state supports them all:
the unfortunate and needy to the lazy bourgeois
united, they avalanche their way to a shared gloom.

what a pity: if you think no one cares for their neighbour,
why does everyone care what everyone else thinks of them?
what a pity: if the only way up is round and around
why is everyone so busy “succeeding”?
what a pity: if the world is so full of gloom and worry
why does everyone smile at children playing in the park?

- satyajit venkatraman
15th october 2010

(derived from the realization that when i think commuters on the metro are grumpy and unsmiling, i forget that i am one of them too and someone is thinking the same about me!)

words

Words are the basis of languages
Words are the means through which we communicate
Words arranged in an stimulating fashion make poetry
Words combined with a pleasant tune become music

Words with affection become love
Words make us humans from mere beings
Words are the heart of relationships
Words are symbols of our intelligence

Words with malice become hate
Words can break a man
Words can make a man a monster
Words with an aim to hurt have no meaning

Words: the evolution from infancy to childhood
Words: a song that i hate
Words: the first song i learnt to play
Words: an enigma with the power to change the world

- satyajit venkatraman
june-october 2010

say nothing

when i was a child, minding my own life,
you made fun of my shape,
you said i was too fat and too meek,
that i couldn’t bend and touch my toes.
still i said nothing.
you took advantage of my docility
and enslaved me as “nature’s freak”,
i broke my back for you to cheat and steal and ravage.
still i said nothing.

when i was a boy, finding my way,
you made fun of my intelligence,
you called me a nerd and a geek,
made me resent my good grades
still i said nothing.
you made fun of my religion,
you said my gods were funny and weak,
questioned my motives, beliefs and philosophy.
still i said nothing.

when i was a young man, increasing in confidence,
you made fun of my lack of direction.
you said i was confused and my future was bleak,
that i would be lost in my own backyard.
still i said nothing.
you made fun of my culture and heritage,
you ignored the niche i was trying to eke,
dismissed me as a slave of my past.
still i said nothing.

now i’m a healthy adult,
you cant make fun of my success
for all the reasons you may seek.
your home falls apart around you.
still i say nothing.
your fortunes have been turned,
this is the end of your winning streak.
all alone, your old friends with troubles of their own.
still i say nothing.

in the future, i will rule the world
with all the others that you tormented.
together we will scale the peak
of the mountain you could never dream of climbing.
and i will still say nothing.
when you have failed on all fronts and lost all hope,
you will want to come by and take a peek
at our success and maybe even join us.
and i will still say nothing.

(as an allegory for India)

- satyajit venkatraman
july, 2010

illusions of reality

I. disillusion

used to see in colour
but now its only flashes of black and white.
tantalizing sensations
all that i touch burns my fingers.
used to hear you sing to me
but now its only sounds that hurt my ears.
no more sweet languages
only words that make no sense anymore.

built this fortress stone by stone
protection from the evil world.
one by one i left behind
everything that was dear to me.
but now its all gone,
even my decadent mind is not my own now.

II. despair

used to be the lucky one
but now i always draw the shortest straw.
mystifying choices
don’t know which is worse, isolation or remorse.
used to have a magic touch
but now all my spells are voodoo hexes.
my wishes have been granted
and my worst dreams have come true.

built this fortress stone by stone
protection from the evil world.
one by one i left behind
everything that was dear to me.
but now that i want to break free
i’m trapped by my own creation.


III. discovery

is my disillusion and despair real?
or a figment of my infidel mind?
was i trying to escape from my own illusions of reality?
all that colour, those tantalizing sensations;
is that my past, erased forever
or just my suppressed memories?
is everything i once loved waiting out there for me?
should i live in despair or die recovering my desire?

built this fortress stone by stone
and now i’ll break it down.
one by one i will bring together
everything i have left behind.
and now that i want to break free
will my own creation hold me back?

IV. desire

didn’t know how long it would take
or how hard it would be.
didn’t know where the road i had to take would lead
but i had to find my way out of the madness.
somewhere along the way, my illusion turned into an infinite void
and my insanity leaked into the endless ocean of delirium.
now i’m in a vast emptiness surrounded by broken stones
and a whole world of colour and undiscovered sensations.

built this fortress stone by stone
and now i’ll break it down.
one by one i will bring together
everything i have left behind.
and now that i want to break free
i know my own creation wont hold me back.


- satyajit venkatraman
29th june 2010

(inspired by “Black and White World” by Redemption)

the truth

真

理

not a storm

not a storm
of swirling waters and churning skies.
swallowing everything it can overtake
and leaving emptiness and sorrow in its wake.

not a fire
fierce and untamed, devouring all things living and dead.
raging without limit, destroying without care
not many can subdue it and if you’re in the way, beware!

just a simple man trying to live life,
to exist without much ado.
just another gloomy optimist,
there’s so many, its nothing new.

not a mountain
rising above the mediocrity.
solid and unwavering against the tumultuous world
plain for all to see, with all its majesty unfurled.

not a bird
flying free and tranquil above it all.
surveying the madness down below
but distant and always mellow.

just a simple man trying to live life,
to exist without much ado.
just another gloomy optimist,
there’s so many, its nothing new.

not a angel
or an agent of a higher power.
protecting the virtues and morals
of people who are mere mortals.

not a hero
fighting wars and saving the world.
finding miracle cures, inventing wondrous machines,
flying stricken planes, simply better than other human beings.

just a simple man trying to live life,
to exist without much ado.
just another gloomy optimist,
there’s so many, its nothing new.

not an art
with magnificent skills inherent.
flair presented with audacity
years of toil and tears resulting in a spectacle of serenity.

not a dream
of infinite possibilities without boundary.
where all is possible in a tranquil state
and the ending is always great.

just a simple man trying to live life,
to exist without much ado.
just another gloomy optimist,
there’s so many, its nothing new.

- satyajit venkatraman
may, 2010

haunted

haunted by the past;
places you’ve been and things you’ve seen,
people you’ve met, and skeletons in the closet,
emotions you’ve felt and the cards you’ve been dealt.

haunted by memories
good ones, bad ones, with you forever.
things you’ll never forget, alliances that you cannot sever,
nostalgic thoughts and beliefs that you revere.

haunted by the present
who you are, and your desires never too far
fighting to stay afloat, in this world like a sinking boat;
running a race that you never thought you would face.

haunted by friends and by family,
dear ones that cannot see that you have a vision.
distant as it may seem, its not just an illusion,
you’ve set out alone on your mission.

haunted by the future
where do you go from here, miles to go or somewhere near?
will you find your way and keep your detractors at bay?
will you be happy when you die, or was it all just a lie?

haunted by transience of life
what’s it all for? what happens in the end
to dreams and the beliefs that, through your life, you defend?
are you just another man, or a legend?

satyajit venkatraman
may 2010

identity

i’m a book that cant be read.
created from start to finish
but not written down.
i’m a song that cant be heard
composed note by note
but without a tune to play.


i’m like a bird that cannot fly.
with sturdy wings
but afraid of flying.
i’m like a lion that cannot hunt.
hunger in my stomach
but no strength to run.

i feel like a river that can’t flow.
all the water in the world
but I’ve lost my course.
i’m like a wind that cannot blow.
my force has disappeared
and now i’m just a lot of air.

i feel like a movie that cant be watched.
conceived with characters and every detail
but didn’t get around to the story.
i feel like a game that cant be played.
all the right rules and strategies
but no teams to execute them.

i’m the sun with no light.
the biggest star in the sky
but my fire has been put out.
i’m the moon in the day.
lovely effervescence within me
but no one can see me.

- satyajit venkatraman
march, 2010

…with my head in the sand

what lies beyond the horizon?
over the seas on the other side;
foreign lands, eclectic people, ancient cultures
but what if for me, the world ends at the shore?
my world ends in my own land,
in familiar territory.

what can be learnt from other people?
from civilizations beyond my own;
new languages, exotic lifestyles, novel experiences
but what if for me, my world is my society?
my world ends in my own neighbourhood
amongst friends and family.

what is the truth about my own land?
in my country, of my people, today.
we ruled the world in ancient times but are feeble now.
but what if for me, the present is in the past?
my world is in my own head
lost in delusional memories.

what is my goal in life?
to learn from my mistakes, and to learn from others;
trial and error, the journey more important than the destination.
but what if for me, life’s purpose to achieve perfection?
flawless people, perfect community, idyllic life,
a utopian existence.

what is the value of diversity?
people of all races, religions and beliefs;
living in harmony, peaceful and tolerant.
but what if for me, all “others” are enemies?
to be suppressed at all costs
leaving me alone in this world with only my kind.

what can be gained from pride?
in myself, my culture, my heritage;
hold my head high, live with dignity.
but what if for me, my ideal is everything foreign?
distant lands, alien cultures, unfamiliar existence
living an empty life.

with my head buried in the sand
there is nothing beyond the horizon
no learning,
reality never prevails.
life is spent in a endless pursuit of the unachievable
the world is one dimensional
in the shadow of my dreams.

- satyajit venkatraman
february, 2010

nowhere road

outside the window there’s a path,
across the mountain to the other side.
clouds all around swirling in the night,
capturing all in their velvet clutches.
leaf-strewn steps lead ahead
pines, oaks and maples everywhere its green.
a stream gushes from a source unseen
a bed of pebbles like crystal in the water.

the stream becomes a river,
down the rapids and through the falls.
yellow fields – sunflowers dancing in the wind
with no care of life or time.
rich, sweet smells in the air,
chirping birds drown out all other sound.
fertile pastures everywhere around
speak of affluence and prosperity.

nowhere road is going to take me home
with the waves at my feet and spray in my face.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where the grass is green on both sides.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where snowy mountain peaks sparkle like a million soft fragments of pleasure.

the river loses strength, the land becomes dry
and majestic waves of golden sand rise.
dust in the wind and sand in my face
covering everything around in a coat of gold.
the desert is a masquerade for gold, oil
and wealth for all alluring.
dunes shifting and ever changing
revealing richness of life and lessons from ages past.

endless sands fade into shores of a vast sea;
hypnotising rhythm of the surf, the breath of power.
a gentle, sleeping giant
preserving the immense force within.
hidden under the sheen of soothing waves
brilliant walls of vibrant coral, full of life and forever boundless.
deeper still lie dark caves, creatures ancient and timeless
tell a tale of ages past, of freedom, simplicity and trust.

nowhere road is going to take me home
with the waves at my feet and spray in my face.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where the grass is green on both sides.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where snowy mountain peaks sparkle like a million soft fragments of pleasure.

from the depths of the ocean comes a surge
of walls of mountains breaking through the surface,
the water wanes after a brief struggle
content to chip away at the surface for centuries of ascendancy.
majestic they rise above all now for all to admire,
a crest of silvery snow for a crown.
in a panorama of mountain, ocean and pastures overgrown
lies a man entranced in his dream.

nowhere road is going to take me home
with the waves at my feet and spray in my face.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where the grass is green on both sides.
nowhere road is going to take me home
where snowy mountain peaks sparkle like a million soft fragments of pleasure.

satyajit venkatraman
january 2010

...its dark outside

it’s dark outside; sharp as needles,
the cold invades layers of warm clothes.
soft drops of icy rain and snow fall
gently on sleeping roofs.

footsteps on the pavement
tread gently, exploring and unsure.
as the night’s snow turns to ice
more falls like silk from above.

cold alleys pass by
mesmerizing reflections peek out.
strange lights sparkle at every corner
many colours – red, orange and green.

the occasional sound of tyres on wet surface
tread gently, exploring and unsure.
flashing red once in a while
exploring the line between speed and safety.

the Tower is dim and the parks empty
famous landmarks lie abandoned and vacant.
no tickets on sale now
no people milling around.

now the footsteps are surer
and the stride confident.
fresh, cool breeze in the air.
making good time, but some way to go.

slowly but surely light asserts itself,
rays of sunlight through the dense shroud of clouds.
soon the houses will be empty
and people everywhere.

he must get back to the start
and begin the transformation to the routine.
solitude and peace will soon disappear
and he will blend into the millions.

for a while there was a thrill (or was it a fear?)
of being alone (but in a world of marvels).
no one to share (and no one to please)
but it was just a morning routine.

December 22, 2009
about my morning jog