#deepak menon

The feast is laid, and the multitude dines,

On the Finest of foods, and the choicest of wines

But I, alone amongst the revelling crowds,

Thirst unquenced, still yearn for Old Times

  SONNET NO 14

By Deepak Menon

The age of reason had dawned and slowly given its right of way

To the age of treason which scattered thorns for those who were true

Then came the age of planning where programmers spent the day

Re-laying new paths for mankind’s zombies to find the ultimate hue

Of the colour’s which would cover the earth till the final day of rest

For the last of the labourers who built this world into what it is now

But history directs the planners to what they know would be the best

To strive for perfection without knowing what it is, will be or how

And the planners saw a bewildering sea of ripples rise and spread

Clashing with the sea of non conformists who still would arise

Scientists, Thinkers, Traders, Artists, Philosophers raised their head

And added to the cacophony of those striving for the ultimate prize

...Summating efforts, merging voices into a single colour on a Rack

I just reflected on how the Continuum of Time and Space creates Space Warps and thank's to the ingenuity of Nature, even though one remains materially rooted to the spot ... the mind warps back to The Good ol' Times of Yesteryears we thought had vanished into the past ne'er to be seen again! BUT HERE THEY ARE - including the Time Warps I have experienced this PAST YEAR OR TWO....

This ALBUM contains photographs of Me (Nickname Tiger as well as Jimmy) and my friends of about 35 Years ago when we were studying in the DAV College Jullunder (Punjab, India) and I was staying in Kapurthala - 18 KM from Jullunder. We had formed a little society - the Society of All Voices Lovers (SOAVL) and there were about 9 of us - and suddenly after all those years - we have been able to contact some - every moment with them has been a defining moment in my life - every moment of the glorious days we spent together - just laughing and playing and joking and being mischievous all day long was what our lives were. Studies had no role at all in our lives. Some years ago when my daughter Serena was studying in Class 11 in the Ryans International School, her teacher - Anjana - asked her if Deepak Menon had studied in Jullunder. Serena said yes. So she asked her to ask me if I knew one Ajay Prasad - her husband. I knew he was my friend - nick name James - of yesteryear immediately! And we met ! Some years passed and then one day I received a message on my Mobile - which said - At last I have found you - and lo and behold it was my friend Mashinder - Kundi was his  nickname in the good old days - and he told me that he has migrated to Germany 30 Years ago!! And he told me the contact number of my friend Bhupinder - Nick Name - Phungla - and I rang him up and we talked and talked and talked .. laughing all the way. Yesterday James and his wife came for dinner and told me that they had brought on of their guests for dinner. I said a casual hello and called them in - till finally James said - "Have'nt you recognised Manoj Gandhi - another wonderful ,member of the SOAVL - nick name at that time "KOTA". I think I was so thrilled recollecting every moment we spent together and talked and talked and laughed hysterically all through the evening. Kota's wife is Manju and it was really wonderful to see our three wonderful wives - Abha, Anjana and Manju together. Abha cooked some amazing dinner and Anjana had brought an even more amazing Dessert which she had made at home - which explains the little paunch James has now ha ha.

AND THE REST, GENTLY TO SLEEP LAY

.                     By Deepak Menon

Can meanings, we, from words glean?

Words that are meant to let us know,

What we can never hear or dream,

Words meant to raise or lay us low,

What we can see, of intents unseen

From words uttered not to let us know,

Is but a fragment of a forgotten dream

Words wrapped in magic gowns of snow,

Lily white in nether worlds so dark

Showing glimmering rivers of feelings,

That words like crawling maggots park

In minds deep recesses,with meanings,

That silently reverberate with truths

We think we know but are not sure,

For words are carriers of those truths

And themselves the beckoning lure,

Concealing meanings in shimmering hazes

Compelling reason and ignorance,

To lose themselves in speakers mazes

Of meanings construed as deliverance,

For, meanings from words we do derive,

But in a parochial, limited way,

We hear what we need to survive

And the rest must always hidden stay,

So let's not peer too deeply into the meanings,

Of words we hear along life's way,

Lets glean what we desire to sooth our feelings!

Smoke swirled around your figure

Swaying like a misty wraith

Amongst the nameless crowd of souls

Dancing their Dance of Faith

Faith in the future they believed in

The future born in the dim past

When fought they battles, couldn't win

And were into destiny's cauldron cast

To flutter like trembling leaves in the wind

Frantically dancing the Dance they made

A Dance they made to make them forget

The games of love they once had played

When into their midst your timeless shape

Had burst in like a flash of light

Banishing the shadows, the smoke and dark

Scattering all fear into headlong flight

And you danced the Dance of Hope

While stars sparkled in your lovely eyes

And your body sang a Song of Hope

Stilling the multitudes hopeless cries

And they watched with riveted gaze

Your swirling limbs, your haunting face

Your radiant smile, your tossing hair

Your twinkling feet in frantic race

And they knew you danced for me

They watched and wondered frozen in time

While your eyes saw only me

Radiating your love - true, sublime

And they knew that they had seen

Eternity in your sparkling dance

A love so true, so pure - so strong

It left them speechless and askance

And from the mist there appeared

He who wooed you like no man

Took form and swept you far away

Into the Forever Sunshine land

Dear Friends – Perfect or Imperfect, Tall or Short, Fat or Thin, Fair or Dark, Big or Small, Boys or Girls, Serious or Frivolous, Holy or Unholy Joe’s or Jane’s, or what ever other way you choose to describe yourself,

This is an UPDATE on how time has passed ever since I was laid on the bed as a result of my allowing my inflated ego determine my prowess and  thereby forgetting that my tremendous strength rested on my brawny arms and shoulders, and that thick globe I carry on my shoulders full of some dense woody substance they call my brain which can be better described by Abha who knows the extent of it’s thickness and density better than everyone, I leaped out of bed early one morning a couple of weeks ago, awakened by the sound of a Gas cylinder being knocked around, so I leaped up and rushed to the Kitchen, hysterically admonishing ABHA for attempting to perform a task better suited for one endowed with superhuman strength like me and certainly not meant to be done by a member of the delicate tender fairer sex like her, and then pushing her aside I bent and lifted the Gas Cylinder to insert it under the slab where the Gas Stove was lying, and since the stupid architect who had designed this flat for the State Bank of India under the generally ridiculous guidelines of the Premises Department of the Local Head Office many decades ago, with lots of angles at every intersection or joining of any two wall resulting in there not being even a single room which is either square or rectangular – the house is a jigsaw puzzle enthusiasts delight – and that architect has also put his special touches to the area under the kitchen slab by building a silly 6 inch high ledge on the floor which makes it impossible to push the Gas Cylinder under the slab and neither can it be put under the kitchen slab upright, and so it has to be lifted up 6 inches, and inclined at an angle of about 23 Degrees and then put inside which means that if one is not so particular about bending ones back 23 degrees everything is alright, except when one is trying to insert a full cylinder of Cooking Gas into the aforesaid space below the kitchen slab, because I have discovered to my horror that while the Gas Cylinder slipped in quite well, there is something called a disk or disc or whatever which is placed between ever set of two vertebrae in the spine of every living homo sapien, and that silly disc thing slips out the moment that Gas Cylinder slips in, and the tirade I was under process of delivering to Abha turned into a loud strangled shriek because the disk thing between some L-5 Vertebrae in my spine chose to slip out and attacked my spinal cord  which I later got to know is hanging around a few millimeters away and give a huge electric shock kind of severe pain in all the nerves of the lumbar area similar to what happens to lumberjacks when they try to ignore their brawny arms and try to lift a fallen tree using their backs instead – needless to say Abha has the habit of closing her eardrums   -something like the film that snakes or frogs can suddenly generate to cover their eyes with to block out the sight of any obnoxious creature like a mongoose if it ventures into the compass of their vision - so she did not bother to respond like a good Pavitra Hindu Nari wife should have done by bursting into tears and screaming with terror, but instead she went about whatever she was dong, till my specific comment that something has cracked in my back jerked her out of her stupor – and she came and after helping me straighten out, wasted the entire drama of the moment by NOT bursting into tears and screaming with terror like she should have done, but instead she told me to get into the bed and lie flat and she brought out the Chinese TIGER balm as I kept repeating that I had a sprain in my back, and those of you who have had occasion to use that Tiger Balm  thing  will understand how hot it made my back  as well which quite cooled the heat in my head -  so I remained in Bed and before leaving for office, she put the Laptop next to the bed and a big tray full of sweets and biscuits and a thermos of the super tea she makes etc etc and with the remote control of the TV as well as the AC also with my eBook and Lots of novels which I had been planning to read but did not get time to, so I had a great time in the bed and believe me this kind of luxury happens only once in a while so if you get a chance, then really enjoy yourself!

Since I hate going to the Doctor, I have an inflated ego, and also think that I am like the INCREDIBLE HULK,  I thought that it will get all right in a short while, I resisted going to the doctor and when it did not improve even after 10 days, finally Abha put  her foot down heavily on the floor, got me whining and cribbing into the Car and took me to the Doctor Bones a couple of kilometers away, and he gave me such a penetrating and piercing glare of approbation, that I had no courage to even try to sidestep his directive to admit me to his hospital IMMEDIATELY, so I succumbed and there I remained for 5 full days with nurses more like dragons attending to me and lots of chaps dropping into the room every half an hour to stretch me by hanging weights from my torso or turning me on my stomach and giving electric shocks to my spine or using some heating pads which almost burnt my remaining pride to ashes etc etc – so I remembered my friend Donald and while bearing the imprisonment as well as all the bruises to my huge ego, I said what he always said – “What to do?”.

To cut a long story short I am now back to the luxury of the 5 star home which Abha has kept just right for me with all the afore said luxuries and glad to say that so shall I remain for the next couple of weeks till I get the clearance from Dr. Bones to walk – though, between you and me, I do get up sometimes in between to go to the bathroom etc (Remember that all that is hidden behind that little word ‘etc’ will never be revealed so don’t even try to ask ha ha).

I would have written more details for the more inquisitive amongst you, but it is rather tiresome to lie in bed flat on your back and write a long letter so I am keeping this short, of course I think that a short letter like this is better than clicking on the ‘like’ icon on Facebook ha ha. Just remember to avoid lifting Gas Cylinders or even Big Bank Ledgers from the floor while sitting on a chair as my good friend Cherian told me just now when he rang up from Abu Dhabi where he is located, because he did that many years ago and faced the same slip of the disk and found out that it is different from a slip of the tongue, though in the business of banking, both may have horrific consequences ha ha.

Love to all of you and yours from Abha and I