Darth Vader

Darth Vader is addictive. I distinctively remember how I first met him. Angry Birds Star Wars game on the I-Pad. He suddenly appeared on my son's favourite T-Shirt also. Until then I had no clue what all those pictures of robots were. Then one day my son had to speak a few words about his favourite superhero and he chose Lord Vader. To help his frame those words, I had to do massive research on Darth Vader and discovered that he wasn't really a hero! But my son was so in love with Darth Vader and I suspected the teachers wouldn't really go into specifics. So I drafted some lines on his qualities and his life support suit and how he was brave and the usual laurels. It drew me in nevertheless.

The only solution was to now binge on all the Star Wars Trilogy

movies. Due to some divine intervention, all those movies were being shown on some channel. The catch was the unearthly hour at which it was being televised. Another divine intervention. Lord of the house was away on business. I packed kids off early to sleep. Caught a few hours of sleep. Then enjoyed my movie. I was entirely hooked. I also watched them on YouTube during the day.

Darth Vader was indeed an enigma. The bad guy you absolutely loved. His evil had the most charismatic attitude to it. The music accompanying his entry was perfectly imperial. His peculiar breathing noise. The life support suit. His unmatched telekinetic powers. He could strangle you over the video, over Skype! And yet his emotional side. His realization that he is not the Jedi he is meant to be and wants more. His fear of losing his love. His trauma over the death of his mother.

Star Wars does indeed draw you into the inter amazingly galactic picturesque universe. I and my son tried to talk in the Yoda style for a while. Go, you must. Dinner, you should eat. Milk, I don't like. Sleep, I want to. Write, a story I must.

Darth Vader is remembered every day. Playing with light Saber or I-Pad. He is part of our lives.

Here is a video I found on YouTube Anakin's transformation to Darth Vader.

Dried up words

There are some words that I have lost

Some stories faded

Music just stopped

What I had wanted to say

I cannot remember

All that is filling my thoughts

Are all bitter darts of accusations

I am different

I have my own wit

You can't trample me down

Just because you do not agree

What's my crime?

That I think or that I aspire ?

Don't stifle my voice

Don't push me into the corner of silence

I grow numb, mute

What is left, is not me

It's who you created

It may be good for you

As you grow stronger

All these things you shower on me?

Does not bring me back to life

These are things you want

I only want my voice, my dreams


National Poem Writing Month 

Cold

It's summer here. The sun is unbearable. The brightness and the heat. Mornings are pleasant. Cool breeze too. But by 9.30 the sun begins to glare with vengeance. I imagine him standing there and just fuming. At all the destruction the puny humans wreak upon his favorite child Earth.

All the heat slowly vaporizing me and my home. I am sure of it. All those things I am unable to find have vaporized. Gone up in smoke. Poof! But all this heat has not thawed the hearts so icy cold.

I see them everywhere. Cold people. I wonder what drives them on. I do not see joy of life in their eyes. I do not feel warmth of love when I sit with them. Their words do not glow my heart with hope. They go full throttle right head. With such fierceness they strive for every good thing they can accumulate. They don't waste any time. Always on the move. Always getting ahead. Sometimes their words wound. Their cold gestures make me cringe. Why do I let them have that much power over me? I could never fathom. Do I want them to like me or be nice to me? Do I consider them superior and powerful ?

You can see me shaking myself like a wet dog at times. When I encounter a cold one I do that to purge the inferiority sinking into me. It sort of gets me out the hypnotic trance. I go into a mode of regret for the job I willingly quit. I start doubting if wrestling with my two boys the whole day is the dream scenario I had in mind. They throw bricks on you and use you as stepping stones to hoist them to greater conquests. The realization of that drops my temperature. It turns me cold to the beauty of the simple haphazard unplanned adventure. I enjoy the warmth I have inside me. The wonder and magic of life is my fuel. Not the mad desire to accumulate expensive merchandise and acquaintances. May the cold never seep in.