With My Thoughts

Alone with my thoughts, I wander

Sometimes aimlessly, at times, with purpose

Often, with thought leading on to thought

Or with action the consequence of mental amblings –

Alone with my thoughts, I wonder

At worlds unseen, the by-lanes of inexperience

Places unexplored, territories yet to be charted

And I amble on, a solitary face amidst a sea of people – 

Alone with my thoughts, I trot along

Studying the nuance in a fellow traveller’s countenance

Ruminating the possible reasons for his expressions

And I pause, hesitant; before I pursue further –

Alone with my thoughts, I cease

Trapped by the shifting tides of nostalgia

With its momentary ebbs and flow, peaks and troughs

And I counter the future, by reaching out for the past –

Alone with my thoughts, I venture

Into a landscape of future possibilities

Into the purposeful realms of ambitious hope

And I surge forward, driven by notions of success –

Alone with my thoughts, I meander

Into caves where monsters grasp and groan

At superstition, perdition, and uncertain horrors

And, I plunge, anxiously into an abyss of anguish –

Alone with my thoughts, I fly

Into and past the nebulous clouds of fancy

Creating worlds and characters, forging inventions

And, I saunter, confidently, into a future I’ve created –

Alone with my thoughts, I am the human itinerant

Probing the possibilities of my existence, and

Crafting my own chance and circumstance

As I wander on,…alone with my thoughts - 

Thoughts of a student in an examination hall

(This is a stream of consciousness attempt to empathize with students writing a tough Literature exam.)

This is tough …this word…insidious

What does it mean? Let me think…

Ah! Think? That is what I have been doing

Thinking…thinking…thinking for the last two weeks

Thinking…using my imagination

For that last English paper

Now, tell me, why would I need to write a story

If I am going to study medicine.

Think…imagine!

Thinking…using my memory

To remember that math formula

Now, tell me, is memory the sign of intelligence?

Oh no! My poor memory now hides a discerning mind.

Memory…forgotten!

Thinking…using my reason

To formulate that economics essay

I remember discussing this concept so vividly in class

But now, my writing skills….they belittle such discussion

Demand…supply!

Thinking…using my luck

Guessing the possible answer

To those tricky multiple choice questions

Where all the choices seemed the right answer

Guess? Right?

Right? Write!

O my god! See what this one word has done!

Gradually taking me on treacherous thoughts

Insidious? My mind is blank…

Let’s continue this essay anyway…Write!

Yeah, everyone seems to be writing

And look…look at that moron staring

At all of us with that smirk on his face

I wonder if he knew ‘insidious’ when he was my age

Wait! I wonder if he knows it NOW!

Anyway, that is my fate…

A future shackled by ‘marksism’

An intelligence deranged by memory

A rationale let down by writing

And choices hinging on luck.

A futile attempt this…another failure

On examining – trying to – an examination!

The Elves' Song

We are Santa’s little helpers, here today

To bring a little Christmas along your way

It’s time for cheer and for Santa, you know

Time for a little, “Ho, ho, ho!”

We are Santa’s little helpers, and here we sing

As reindeer fly and the sleigh bells ring

And we hope that wherever we sing and go

We’ll leave behind a little “Ho, ho, ho!”

We are Santa’s little helpers, with toys we come

To bring a little Christmas cheer and fun

To bring some gifts and tell you to pause

And spend some time with Santa Claus

Ho, ho, ho, little gifts we bear

Our time with you we’d like to share

Ho, ho, ho, let this Christmas be

A time of joy for you and me!

Ho, ho, ho, here’s Santa Claus

Let’s clap for him, hear the applause

For, he is, indeed, the symbol of joy

Found in the heart of every Christmas toy.

Christmas Glee

It’s not Santa Claus, his deer and sleigh

That make a great Christmas day

It’s not wrapped presents under a Christmas tree

That fill hearts with warmth and glee

It’s not a lovely cake or a glass of wine

That makes Christmas morning shine

It’s you and I, the things we do

That make Christmas sing right and true

It’s you and I, the things we share

The love we have, our trust and care

           

It’s you and I, the things we do

That makes another Christmas shining new

It’s you and I, the love we feel

That cause Christmas bells to chime and peal

It’s you and I, your actions and mine

That fill our hearts with feelings fine

It’s you and I, what you see in me

That make Christmas so full of glee

It’s you and I, the moments we share

Trusting each other with emotions bare

It’s you and I, in our work and play

That make it a great Christmas day.

It’s not just Santa Claus, or a Christmas tree

But you and I, that make Christmas glee!

THE TWIN IMPOSTORS

Victory is not simply a trophy in the cabinet

It is the recognition received for achieving one’s potential.

Victory is not just a medal around one’s neck.

It is the pride that comes from recognition received.

Victory is not simply a certificate in one’s hands.

It is the satisfaction gained from knowing one’s worth.

Victory is not just a plaque on the wall.

It is the knowledge that efforts exercised were worth it all.

Defeat in not the end of the road.

It is the origin for ventures new.

Defeat is not disaster in the making.

It is an assessment of what comes next.

Defeat is not wallowing in despair.

It is a test of our strength and depth of character.

Defeat is not about giving up.

It is about going on despite dull disappointment. 

Be it the victory we savour

Or defeat we bitterly endure

May we learn lessons for life

And rules for living

From these “twin impostors”

May they create character and destroy doubt

May they teach us what the journey of life is all about. 

What's without?

I watch you walk, with a cheerful grin

But does it truly reflect what’s within?

You seem to saunter, a relaxed stroll

But does it truly reflect a smiling soul?

Your grin, your laugh, that lively smile

Are they meant to mask intentions vile?

Your words, your actions, that confident pose

Are they meant to mask secret woes?

Yet, what’s within, and not without

Isn’t that what we are all about?

Yet, it’s what without that tells the story

While what’s within shares the glory

Of the many diverse roles we play

With their uniquely distinct shades of gray

As we strut within the grand theatre of life

And shout out lines that run riotously rife

With the tales of our inhumanity

While we don the mask of humanity. 

Another Mother and Child

He takes her in his arms, looks her in the eye 

Whispers in her ear, lays her down with a sigh 

He then sits down beside her, tickles her toes 

As he caresses a brow that has absolutely no woes 

Innocence-laden, she breaks into a sweet, little smile 

That seems to ask, “Dad will you be quite a while?” 

He then moves to the door, gives his wife a little kiss 

And thus completes this picture of pure domestic bliss. 

Now in his shed, a few quiet blocks away 

On a makeshift table, all his equipment lay 

Polished and ready for his mission that night 

For the role he would play in his cause, his fight 

Which would ignite a panic, so chaotic and wild

That would engulf the lives of another mother and child.

The Tazara

I am sitting here on a beach in Dar-es-Salaam, working on a school project with the lapping of the waves a rhythmic stimulant for rapidly evolving thoughts. However, should I need a break, a momentary thoughtful pause away from my laptop, there is another source of inspiration, distraction, sorry: a glowing sunrise from across the Indian Ocean!
For Simba school is soon forgotten and my camera tries to capture the full glory of Phobeus’ diurnal blessings upon us mere mortals. And as I try different angles, hoping innovation might make up for the limitations of my camera, the mind churns again and I recall how, when and why I got here far away from a Ndola that is somnambulantly getting through yet another August.
With a family steeped in the culture of the railways, albeit Indian, with a wife whose adventurousness is definitely not worthy of derailment by mere travel sickness, with a son who enjoys all forms of transport (but has a special affinity for Thomas the tank engine), with daily stimulants from the travel channel and with an innate spirit of intrepid adventure, Mr and Mrs and Master Renaux, accompanied by stand-by babysitter, Miss Renaux, decided to take the Tazara from Kapiri Mposhi to Dar-Es-Salaam.
My regular travel agent shrieked at my suggested itinerary, a former resident of Zambia gave me the thumbs down on Facebook and a present student suggested that I might be the only one on the train. Looking back, I smile at such universal misconception and disdain for Zambian infrastructure!
Yes, the toilets had no running water – even in first class, but there were staff at hand to ensure that there was always a bucketful around to do the job. In fact, our first class coupe – compartment on the Tazara – was spacious, clean and each berth was provided with two blankets, a sheet and a pillow. The mandatory bottle of mineral water that had been allocated to each berth did not pitch up, but that did not prevent us from sorting out or packed meals and readying ourselves for a long but comfortable journey. Yes, the train did shriek to halts and jerk to starts and it did give us some bouncy moments, but it also inspired little Calvin to come up with a ditty titled, “Bouncy, bouncy train.” It also offered us stunning views of undulating mountains and we even spotted giraffe, wildebeest, elephant and antelope as we chugged through the Selous game reserve in southern Tanzania. Yes, a forty-two hour journey eventually lasted forty-nine hours, thanks to a local strike in Mbeya, but we took that opportunity to chat to strangers from different corners of the world and to learn a bit of Swahili as well. The delay also meant I could digest another Safari or two before we entered the chaotic hustle and bustle of yet another commercial capital – and experience anarchy on the roads of Dar es Salaam.
But most of all the Tazara will also be an enjoyable memory because on it, we exchanged gifts and even ‘adorned’ our coupe on the occasion of our fourth wedding anniversary. And, no matter which corner of the world we might find ourselves many years from now, we can always say we had a truly interesting African adventure.

FAMILY INFORMED

A sheet of paper; a telephone call
Family informed.

Breaking news; MOD confirms
Family informed.

Anonymity uncovered; soldier named
Family informed.

One happy life ends, a sad one begins:
Family deformed.

An old room is emptied, a new grave now filled:
Family deformed.

A soul rests in peace; a parent, the spectre of torment:
Family deformed.

Family informed:
Casual: rather matter of fact, indeed.

Family deformed:
Reality: the fact of the matter, in deed!

MY HUMANITY

A time machine
You took me to another day, another age
Where I mingled with kings and rode into battle
A time and place where the sun beat down
On jungles as yet unspoilt by man.

A stamp on my passport
You allowed me entry to diverse countries
Where I could trek mountains pristine with snow
To lands remote and neighbouring where the moon rose
To an ambiance of delicious delights.

A chord on my conscience
You played tunes I had never before heard
While I grappled with feelings that you slowly stirred
As the music of humanity passed me by
While I stood alone in a crowd of faces

And held you in my band
- The anthology of a humanity I despise -

A tutor to my intellect
You explored the contours of my mind
While I analysed tenets that you dared me question
As the messages of past generations beckoned me
While I stood in museums that told the story of man

And pored over your bounty
- The treasury of a humanity I admire –


And held you in my hand
And pored over your bounty

As I enjoyed the vicarious pleasures that only you can offer

A book

To which I owe my humanity.

Success...Failure

SUCCESS…
…FAILURE

Failure is not the lack of success
Instead, it is the effort of trying
But of not getting there.

Success is not the lack of failure
Instead, it is the efforts of overcoming
Hurdles placed along the way

Failure in not the face of defeat
It is, instead, a battle against
An opponent who we have yet to better.

Success is not the visage of victory
It is, instead, a conflict against
An opponent we have managed to overcome.

Failure is not the depths of despair
It is, instead, a lesson that has
Yet to teach us the meaning of success.

Success is not the zenith of achievement
It is, instead, an education in
The trappings of failure.

Failure is not always a foundering fiasco
Just as
Success is not always a triumphant tale

For, contrary to popular belief
Failure isn’t the opposite of success
They are , in fact, two sides of the same coin

For they go together, hand in hand
Mates from whom we should learn

That the greatest success
Can take root
In abysmal failure

Companions from whom we should learn

That the greatest fall
Can plummet
From the pinnacle of success.

The Pillar

THE PILLAR

Weak,
You burst into tears

Fragile,
You break into pieces

Faltering,
You stumble along.

Tottering,
You trip over yourself.

Yet,
When it matters most

You
Remain upight

The pillar
On which this world

Stands:
You,

Sturdy and Unrelenting:
The Human Spirit