Le Café at Rue de la Gaulle »

Le Café at Rue de la Gaulle »

On the right corner of “Rue de La Gaulle,”

She stands like an undisputed phenomenon.

Ethereal with a subtle  je-ne-sais-quoi,

Smelling like childhood, chocolate, and coffee.

She has an éclat of being labyrinthine.

A sovereign beauty worth every atom of admiration.

From any visible angle, she carries a celestial hue.

With the caveat of not being everyone’s cup of café.

Her stories half hidden; her lovers obsessed.

She is a trophy for celebrities, a pilgrim for the artists,

A compassionate friend for the jilted romantics, 

And a haven for the grey gaffers.

She has been living unknown for a while,

Scanning through the streets to find her oldsters.

Often, she speaks of them to her antediluvian walls.

Of their joys, their triumphs, their sorrows, their bigotry.

Their poetry, their plea, their resentment, and their silence.

We met on a Wednesday evening.

She was frail yet bright as an ambrosial fire,

I stood amazed, had my coffee, took some notes,

And penned this poem for her, my dearest “ Le Café ”

Preeti Venkateshan

The Path

One sultry summer ...

At dusk...??

Oh wait !

Maybe, at dawn…

I hopscotched my way,

Clasping the moondust…

Oh, could it be sunshine ?

Nevermind,

I trudged from the doorstep to the barn...

I was blindfolded too,

Ridiculous !!!! say the naysayers.

But, what does one do ?

The bewildered soul,

Have senses a few.

And the path must be tread,

In ways old and new…

With a virginal trust so vain,

I let my one-legged self,

Into the dreadful darkness.

Did I invite myself to suffer ?

Will this serve enough,

As a reason,

To sin ?

How do I relinquish,

The need to torture ?

When whelmed by the mist,

How do I

Peek into myself ?

While the tempter

whispers lullabies,

How do I

resist the sedation ?

I sparsely pecked on my courage

Like a frail pigeon on a diet.

Trying neither to faint,

Nor seeking anyone

To hear my complaint.

I have heard stories though...

Of the mighty and the brave.

And their legacies so great,

Of fixing the bleeding heart.

So, when my anguish calls,

May I borrow the portion

that fixed their parts that are

still unfixed in me…?

May I have,

What they are having… ?

Alas ! maybe, I could convince myself...

To share the joy

And not pervade the loss...

To wear the martyrs crown

And cast away the cross…

Because, hope is such a sweet flavor...

To beat the aftertaste of strife

To digest the blow without haste

And to gather the pith from pain.

With an acute wanderlust for life,

I packed in all the forces I could...

And set off on another trudge

From the doorstep to the barn...

Not blindfolded this time...

Two legged, parched and scarred

Brought back to life...

Humbled, stronger...

And until another moment...

In the dawn or the dusk...

When the time stops in my orb,

There shall be a perpetual sequel

Of the journey, of a wiser soul

That relentlessly espied mirth from woe...

Because, what does one do?

When the path must be tread...

In ways old and new…

CCK

Make a Wish

Thoughts detonate
In my whim...
Like a drop of light in grim.

I Flutter
with a pair of wings,
In the morning sun
and vanish...

I sulk
In the fabric of darkness,
Into which I dissolve
and vanish...

I ponder
over emptiness,
Behind those walls
of four dimensions...

I delve
deep into my roots,
The less of me
I shall ever know….

I visualize 
our trivial lives,
Flame my dreams,
beneath those fiery screams.
Swallowing the world,
and spitting out steams.

I wander,
In the realm of my past...
In the closet of my present...
In the crypt of my future...
Seen, done, battered & battled.
Fallen to resurrect
and make a wish...

CCK

Goodness... The esoteric labyrinthine.

"The majority of people spoil their lives by an unhealthy and exaggerated altruism."-from The Soul of Man Under Socialism by Oscar Wilde

Now, if I have garnered your attention, let me get one thing clear.
I do not believe in the theorems of Sir Oscar Wilde. * Happy Smiley*
Quoting famous messed up people in some way creates a hallow around the writers head.
The presumption of something good is coming by. * Confused Smiley*
Unfortunately ,I seldom know if I can offer that in my perceptive writing.
* Sheepish Grins*

I decided to write about Goodness of all the universal things under and above the orb primarily because of my rendezvous with a startling incident that happened a couple of days ago. * Just a Smiley*

After going through a mentionable clump of chicanery by the trusted ones and 25 minutes of introspection, I firmly decided that and I am done being benevolent. 
I had been taken for a ride on a mad horse. So, this was it. 
I  stood right in front of the mirror, imagined myself  as a character in a Shakespearean play and embarked on with my soliloquy . 
I said, " My dear stupid woman staring back at me from the other side; You, my honey are going to be smart, ungiving and unforgiving". 
What a major breakthrough it was.  I felt light, like I was being ambushed by a vanilla flavored refinement. * Shy away smiley*
Thus, with a new found confidence I got dressed and got my grocery list ready.

My walk to the department store was flawless, I mean my cerebral walk.  * Wink smiley*

During that entire 5 minutes and 28 seconds I was plotting my shenanigans and spot on reflexes towards people who were not so kind to me. * Angry Smiley*

I reached the store, picked things on my list and before I could move to the billing section, I met a well dressed middle aged french woman.

She was blonde, impeccably dressed in knee length black skirt, a beautiful white semi formal top, neat flat shoes. She had a thin glittering chain around her neck. Her brown eyes were deep and seemed in pain. * Sad Smiley*

She was watching out for the rest as if she had stolen something. 

I was wondering what was wrong with her and then I saw her moving towards me like a tortoise ( I meant the speed, not the posture).

She said something in French. I replied to her that I was incapable of making a conversation in french, all that I knew was Bonjour and Je m'appelle Preeti .. * Sheepish Grin*

Surprisingly, she spoke to me in English. She said " Could you please lend me some money, I need to buy Milk'.

In a couple of seconds my mind did a lot of maneuvering ... * Enlarging eyes Smiley*

A) She is from the FBI and all that drama was because I caught her in the mood.

B) She is a terrorist trying to insert a bomb in the milk section.

C) She is trying to poison the Milk section.

D) She is a journalist working for a top Production house of the Government, questioning public's social responsibility and if I refuse to help, the whole of France will spit on my grave.( Good gracious, I am going to be on TV ) * Excited Smiley*

E)She is going to loot the store at gun point and her gun is in the milk section.

F)She is cheating people and

G)She is honestly hungry and penniless.

Ps- For some odd reason I count in alphabets ….

I quickly got back from my smart thinking... while she was looking at me oscillating between the counters. I walked towards her and said " I can pay for the milk, do you want anything else'

She had tightly clasped a small packet of half eaten cheese. 

It just seemed that I had to pay for the cheese too.

I asked her what else do you want.. She replied, "Some water"..

All of a sudden a flock of people charged towards the milk section and the lady sprinted away.. Everything happened so soon; I could not fathom anything.

I was standing there for a while and could not get a glimpse of that lady.

Hence I came back to the billing section with my back turned towards the milk counter.. * Funny scene*

Just before my turn I saw her moving swiftly with a lot of goodies in her hand... I ran towards her and offered to pay.

The lady politely declined and moved towards another section.

I presumed someone helped her but it was unlikely as there was a certain level of capriciousness in her body language which made it obvious.

Anyway, I just waited for a couple of more minutes, paid and left.

 On my walk back home, I was trying to analyze what had just happened. 
My tenacity to be ungiving had failed me. 

The fact that the lady had declined my help troubled me so much that all the anger that was piled up in me, evaporated... My mind was steaming with guilt.
I was questioning myself why am I so hung up about being kind, being generous or for that matter being Good.

What is goodness ? How does one define it ? Why does being good involve an amount of sacrifice?
I know of many people who work honestly, who are diligent, who abide laws, who are loyal to their family and friends; however ,they do not help people in need. 
It is ironical that they are not considered as good people.

I know of people who are none of these but have sacrificed their life for the common good and surprisingly they are celebrated as the epitome of goodness.
An Individual works hard, makes a lot of sacrifices earns a good living but if he refuses to help a beggar on the street or a person in need why is he considered a bad person. He did not steal nor was he rude.. he is just not willing to share his hard earned money.
What surprises me is a politician who was running a line of liquor shops in a vicinity used to donate food to a lot of people. The fact that he was responsible for supplying liquor to many was off people's mind.. the food he donated made him the best man in the town.
What is good and bad? Do they really exist... who defines it and by what parameters?

Goodness is complicated... The likes of Buddha, Gandhi, Mandela, Mother Theresa...
Would you , a common person ,love to have a parent like the aforementioned....? Someone who would have absolutely no time for you but just for the common good? The ones who give up on their family to improve the world...?
Why does my mind shriek... * when each one takes care of himself the world will be a better place*
But how practical is this with such huge disparities and implementation challenges?
Our human mind is dichotomous .
Being Good is what each one wants... but the complication drives people away from it.

I am just like the donkey who can see my food to self actualization somewhere.. I see a pile of entwined tunnels... the tunnels of the perceptive good and bad... what do I choose and how, is something I am endeavoring to explore... I go see a block, come back and start again.. I find my way , I presume I am going to reach my goal soon but again I see a block and I return.

Pardon my too many 'I' 's but the realization that the road to satiation is about the journey and not about the end of the labyrinth ,sinks in pretty late.
There is nothing wrong in being selfish, keeping what you want for you but make sure that when you are in need that is the kind of people you are likely to meet.

I went back home, stared back at the mirror and said, " My dear stupid woman staring back at me from the other side; You, my honey are going to be smart, giving and forgiving". 
I just broke through my breakthrough to refine myself.

The road to happiness is how you define it.
My request to people who read this is,
Introspect, talk to yourself more, evaluate your perceptions and listen to your voice.
Travel the labyrinthine of Goodness...make that tiny little sacrifice when you can..... you may reach somewhere , maybe not a place you like.. but the journey is worthwhile.

If any civilization is to survive, it is the morality of altruism that men have to reject- Ayn Rand

I presume I have garnered your attention yet again... Ah!!! the power of messed up people ! * Teethy Smiley*
For the ones who have read the first and last lines, just like how I read my textbooks.. Trust me you have no clue what this piece of rambling is all about.

Never mind.. nothing really matters * Blank Smiley *

CCK

A vague song of an estranged marrow

She paused; she heard a moan of pain throttling her uvula.

Should I struggle or be content?  Should I stay or perish, she asked.

Again, she paused; a stifled sob slipped out stealthily.

Long silence followed, ­then again, her voice, the putrid dusk stirred.

She wrenches her arm with aimless vigor and shrieks like a feline phantom.

Gliding along the vermilion walls, she murmurs words that rhyme.

Come to me, beckons her haunted memories bedecked in silver geranium.

I cannot come my love, she says, for I fear dark blankets and Chime.

The ineffable prophecy of my sorrow tells me I yet have the inner swarm,                                                                                                        

Like a soft spot on a ruthless man, like a desolate widow’s lone revelry.

If only I could cede my delusion, as if it was a cavernous storm,

My undying hope shall not be nugatory as a fleeting reverie.

Untangling her frizzy hair with fingers brown, Some tears of feign she shed.
The tears that fall unfelt, forging truth with perennial guile. 

Her love does not revive mirth anymore; her fear touches none with dread.

Her sorrow cuddles none with pain; her life embraces none for a while.

 
There were moments when her amour was hourly heard as hourly spoken.

When the long, sunny days of bliss, sparkled like a gleaming beacon of hope.

Where the moon juiced out all its light and filled her cup of faith unbroken
Her sparkling three winks of time, Still never dreaming of the two- faced strop.

But again how could she refrain from slipping into the vicious scheme of dubious life.

To bruise round her fallen utopia, that drops feigned tears upon her barrow
She cares no longer and desires to leave, where she can rest her inward strife.
But, before she goes by, she sings a vague song of an estranged marrow.

CCK

Ps- The picture displayed is not my personal property.

 

New Woman

Blast from the past.
Year- 1997, Poem- New Woman !!!!

Oh Beautiful ! 

You are the woman who has risen,

From the fettered graves of slavery.
Guiding your pain 

Through the closed walls of your inner horizon.
You have nurtured a tempest 

With the ashes of your cindered reverie.

Pioneering a path where you shall never return
To the mourning realm of your heinous past.
The awakening of verve could seldom be deferred.
You had to move places as the dice was already cast.

And now,
You are empowered to swallow freedom in your ravenous trap.
And to carve the words which were stifled from being spoken.
Incinerating the cultural norms and sacrilegious scrap.
You have scorched the rules meant to be broken.


CCK

One of my favorite painting Artist- Amrita Sher- Gil

Amrita Shergill, an eminent Indian painting artist, a stunningly beautiful woman with amazing talent. Amrita's art has influenced generations of Indian artists and her depiction of the plight of women has made her art a beacon for women at large both in India and abroad. A classic artist who flawlessly imbibed the complexities of her life within her beautiful paintings. The beauty about her work is the intricate yet innate marination of modern sensibilities with traditional values.
Of all her beautiful paintings, I liked this one.. It is a self painting nevertheless there is something about the picture and her expression that makes me want to look back a million times.

Mirth and Mystics...

Druthers abound
Almost bewildered
Take a chance
To paint my love
Beyond the confines
With mirth and mystics’
Sire magic on my canvas
With the crayons of my dreams
Every hue every shade
Ah, life is precious


CCK