trichos

Short Fiction #4

2011-05-29T01:24:00.000-07:00

The prodigal son clenched the cold hard steel and smiled as it kissed the temple. He was pondering over what felt like the most sensible splurge he had ever made.

Short Fiction #3

2011-05-07T13:25:00.002-07:00

The village folk kept wondering why the eager letters hadn't arrived like they always did. Meanwhile, the postman had forgotten the words of his favourite song.

Short Fiction #2

2011-05-07T13:25:00.001-07:00

It couldn't have been more clearer to him. The observations and insights were throwing open a plethora of possibilities. He panicked and rolled another joint.

Short fiction #1

2011-05-07T13:24:00.000-07:00

He returned from the chills of Siachen, expecting a warm embrace. But she preferred to not look him in the eye instead.

Quants

2009-09-16T11:46:00.001-07:00

numbers
unassuming numbers
mocking numbers
unassumingly mocking numbers
they square
they multiply
they differentiate
they plot
they just don't add up.

The Dark Symphony

2009-07-15T22:00:00.001-07:00

Welcome to my show,
It’s a fascinating site.
May not be where you belong,
But you’ll feel at home alright.

Don’t care where you are from,
Cuz here there ain’t no Karma of the past.
If you’ve been wicked and wrong,
Then in my den you will last.

Cause it’s the trance of the dark symphony.
Before you know it you’ll be jammin’ with me.
Might seem scary, but it’s easy really.
Just play by the rules, except there aren’t any.

Oh don’t you worry you’ll be fed
The good meal of a sinner.
There shall be alcohol at dawn
And nicotine for dinner.

You might have had a heartbreak.
You see, the noble world’s unjust.
Here you won’t be troubled by love,
But here you’ll have plenty of lust.

Cause it’s the trance of the dark symphony.
Before you know it you’ll be jammin’ with me.
Might seem scary, but it’s easy really.
Just play by the rules, except there aren’t any.

They were just playing around,
When they talked about divine happiness.
Just come on in and you’ll be surprised
To see what you possess.

Those sages did not have a clue
When they set you on a weary trail.
Come to me and you will find
All you were looking for, your Holy Grail.

Cause it’s the trance of the dark symphony.
Before you know it you’ll be jammin’ with me.
Might seem scary, but it’s easy really.
Just play by the rules, except there aren’t any.
The dark symphony.

He, himself

2009-07-13T03:57:00.000-07:00

A hopeless student
In a hapless age,
Anything but prudent,
Trying to guage
The rigours of life
In the times ahead,
As he prepares himself
To earn his bread.

He screws his papers,
He flunks his tests,
He mugs, he crams,
Scrapes through the rest.
Cusses the system
In which he's drowned;
Tries to unwind listenin' to,
Asian underground.

He's seen the ups,
He's seen the downs,
Taking all the shit
That's been doin' the rounds.
But he knows
He'll shoot & hit the next time.
Won't be content waiting in the line.

He checks the pros,
Looks into the cons
Of the ideas
That he stumbles upon,
To redeem
All the things that he's missed.
Willing to sacrifice,
Prepared to risk.

But the tides are high,
The times are rough.
Trying to act normal
While he's engulfed
By the flames of thought,
The drive to succeed
In his constant endeavour
To make both ends meet.

He doesn't give in,
He doesn't bow out.
He don't care a damn
About the thunder and the clouds
Of darkness,
That he fights and endures
To turn the table
And yell out "UP YOURS!!"

© Tridib Chowdhury 2005

Mr. Colourblind

2009-07-13T03:32:00.000-07:00

There was an artist mocked by all,
They called him Mr. Colourblind.
He made beautiful sketches on the walls,
But filled them with colours of a different kind.

The skies were pink, the trees were blue,
The waters gave a golden glare.
The purists ridiculed and scorned at him
But he simply did not care.

Then a council came to him
Seeking a reaction that they could evoke.
They demanded that he explain himself,
So then he stood up and spoke.

“If saffron & green didn’t speak of religions and hatred,
Then the law of colours I wouldn’t mind.
Bit if I’m expected to be blinded by these colours,
I’d rather be colour-blind.”

Icarus

2009-07-12T09:49:00.000-07:00

Here’s a tale of a father and a son,
Caught in the Labrinth’s cage.
Deprived of the freedom that they so craved,
It filled their hearts with rage.

Together they sat and devised a plan
To outwit the enemy’s spies.
The roads were shut, the seas were blocked.
They were compelled to take on the skies.

So Daedalus, the father. The master creator.
Fashioned huge wings with wax.
Knowing that it would take them through,
He tied them to Icarus’ back.

Then Icarus, filled with a wave of hope,
Flapped his hands with vigour.
His feet left the ground, he rose with joy
Oblivious to the ocean’s rigour.

Up he went above the roads
And the streets that were viciously guarded.
Leaving Minos looking on helpless
As Daedalus’ son departed.

Exhilirated with the fabulous flight,
Icarus’ heart leapt with desire.
He soared and soared with joy and pride
To reach the Apollo’s fire.

But the mighty Apollo’s fiery ball
Didn’t have the heart to sway.
It blazed upon Icarus’ feathers
To melt the wax away.

With the wax all gone, he was left with none.
To hold together the plumes.
Icarus saw his wings fall apart
And he knew that he reached his doom.

And though he plunged towards the thunder
Of the sea where he would die,
We remember him not for that fatal fall,
But for the fact that he dared to fly.