孔子说：父母在，不远游

a soliloquy on coping

28 Sep 2011

feelings in a bottle
I can’t get them out
hands pressed against my temples
I swallowed a muffled shout

Aggression and Affection
fight for pole position
leaving space for who else but
Mr Disappointment

oh well, meditation works
but only for a while
I tilt my chin, and lift my head,
and look to God and smile

Day 17

28 Sep 2011

In the last corner of this plane,
Paul Theroux’s still cradled in my hands.
“Sir, coffee or tea?” I politely declined.

Thumbing through its final pages,
Parallel journeys of two men’s redux;
Arriving where I depart.

Come, let’s go somewhere quieter, where the
crowd has not gathered.
Withdraw to my own space where I can have
some time alone to think.
Latent energy is everywhere, the passive
aggression is simmering,
Just waiting to boil over.

I have my own ideas of how things should go;
do not bother me.
Today, I am an unique individual, just like
everyone else.
You with your signs and loud-hailers, keep your
sense of justice to yourself.
I have hope. I have anger.

Politics is personal.

Day 02

28 Sep 2011

Sipping cappuccino at a cafe,
Paul Theroux’s cradled in my hands.
The wifi is free but not abused.

Slipping into Kathmandu like I’ve never left,
Summer’s waning, the air chilly;
More familiar than I thought.

Red

28 Sep 2011

Oh frenzied day be gone! Now Sun, take rest.
On familiar red bricks a warm hue caress.
The last light dips; the day now passed.
With great relief, we’re Home at last.

The Travelling Photographer

26 Mar 2011

It was 10:18
And he was looking for the last family
To take a picture of
Before returning to his country halfway around the world across.
He stumbled upon a door half-closed
And the lights within lit a face that showed
Looks like this could be the one
Before he returns to the hotel for some rest and rum.
He had been doing this for what seemed like 18 months.

He thought “Oh great, what a beautiful light,“
And a picture of this place will be such a sight.”
So, straightening his scarf,
He vowed not to let this pass.
He knocked on the door and a girl answered.
He explained his purpose.
She told him, in the end, that it is now too late,
And he should return next morning when she and the rest will await.
Looking at his watch, he nodded and said, “That will be great.”

And he fears, never gonna take a picture of another girl.
From now, it’s only she that he remembers,
The one and only muse of a travelling photographer.
And she is left to wonder, when will he return to take another picture?
Not one to hold much hope,
But the sense of uncertainty is too much for her to cope.

He returned the next morning
And true to her words, she had been waiting.
He gave her his best smile
And took off his boots and sat down for a while.
She was a student just like him
But while he had graduated, she was still studying.
Awaiting for her results to go college,
He gave her his blessings and said:
“May good luck be with you.
And when you do make it, don’t forget that I once said you will.”

The minutes passed and the conversation was great,
So much so that he almost forgot he has some pictures to make.
Picking up his camera, he did his thing.
Posing the folks in the house within.
The girl was last and she stood straight as wood.
She has never done this before, and was quite awkward.
He let her be for her beauty was so great,
Even the awkwardness becomes a visual treat.

Just as he thought that was it
Something in his mind just clicked.
Instead of leaving things like that,
He thought he would take it to another step.
“I can spend more time here but what is the point?”
“I’d rather print this out so that you will something tangible to remember me by.”

And he fears, never gonna take a picture of another girl.
From now, it’s only she that he remembers,
The one and only muse of a travelling photographer.
And she is left to wonder, when will he return to take another picture?
Not one to hold much hope,
But the sense of uncertainty is too much for her to cope.

And he returned, just a few minutes late.
The printer had some problems which had him delayed.
Sweating like a mad dog, he handed her the prints,
And the smile she gave made him grin.
Waiting for him to take off his boots again,
But he told her that this time, he was not coming in.
She begged him to stay for lunch.
He looked at his watch and it says not enough time.
“I am sorry girl, but I must now be gone.
I have a train to catch, right on the dot at one.”

And he fears, never gonna take a picture of another girl.
From now, it’s only she that he remembers,
The one and only muse of a travelling photographer.
And she is left to wonder, when will he return to take another picture?
Not one to hold much hope,
But the sense of uncertainty is too much for her to cope.

On the train, he thought about his big mistake.
Why didn’t he gave her a picture of himself instead?
Then he realized that the best pictures of him are not made of photo paper,
But the heart and the memory of a pretty young girl.