Baking : the sheer joys of batter licking.

  Let's be honest, most of us, all of us, live to eat. Even my most determined girlfriends, swearing on a papayas-only diet, you take a look at that fluffy,gorgeous brownie, that silky fondant adorning it, and you have to have it. BROWNIE COME BACK HERE. There. I think I've made my point. Cake spreads the lurrve like nothing else. Stick around pi-r-cube during lunch and you'll see half a dozen groups of big and small people, screaming orgasmically and throwing cake onto each others faces, hair, nostrils, you get the picture.( I am strongly against this. Happy Birthday to you. Got any cake left? Some of us like to eat it too).
So why wait for birthdays for a bite of paradise? Here I give you fun new hobby : Baking.
You will need : An oven. Or your neighbor's oven. No can do without that. Sorry.
                       A couple of hours(for most recipes). C'mon, you're not tha-at busy.
                       The will to get off your butt and move around.
Once you've got that oven, you need a recipe. If you're holding that stirrer for the first time, I strongly recommend you don't attempt the 8 layered upside down cake you watched on Masterchef. A simple sponge-cake tastes great too.Call up that aunt you've always avoided, for her recipe. Or maybe just Google.
Once you've picked something mouthwatering enough (and doable) walk to supermarket (Yes, walk. You're going to be stuffing that cake down your throat in a few hours). Gather your supplies, and its time to get your hands dirty.  Now I wont pretend to be a proficient baker here and give out sophisticated advice, but stir, stir and stir. No lumps. That's the secret to a good cake. As simple as that. Pre-heat your oven and get your cake in. And the best past, the remains of the batter on your mixing bowl, go ahead, taste it. You made that. Tastes even better now doesn't it? And your cake is baking away and that aroma is swimming around you and you're drowning, drowning in the glory of your produce. Sigh. Bliss. Warning : Take care not to burn the cake while you're in dreamland.
 So don't be lazy, don't wait for someone to come knocking at your door with a pretty basket of cupcakes (lovely as that would be, such things seldom happen). Lets see(and taste) some of your brownies, cookies, maybe cheesecakes too. Boys don't be shy, we all know you've got that baking talent too, and just so you know, the ladies love that *wink wink*.
 Here's to a Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year and to the start of something beautiful.

Eggless sponge cake by yours truly

Creation of my friend Nandini, she's almost professional

Real

Real

I know you aren't real

But I'll put on my new purple scarf

(I've told everyone its a gift from you)

And trail these large footprints

Still fresh on last night's snow

And I know this snow isn't real

(It doesn't snow in the tropics, does it?)

But I don't need to wear gloves to save 

My half-blue fingers because soon you'll

Hold my hands and we'll kiss

As the fireworks tumble across the horizon

(They aren't real, but you know that)

Like in all those movies we watched,

But didnt, and then criticized.

And your scent is teasing my hair like 

The prelude to an invisible snowstorm

And I know your scent isn't real

(Am I the predator darling, or are you?) 

Ha, you think I'm still oblivious.

This sheet of fog I'm running through,

Don't let it clear yet, let the cold shred me 

To smaller bits tonight, so i can diffuse into

This breathtaking lie

That is you.

Rapunzel

Rapunzel

Don't sit shuddering by that damp, wasted fireplace

Strike some stones together and burn your ache.

Don't take orders from that green nailed witch.

There is no glory to your bloody tears, punch her on the face.

The world is wider than the square picture on your wall.

You are stronger than your dainty fingers and silken hair.

Don't just spend your nights singing songs for the doe-eyed prince

He could take too long, or could turn out to be a blithering idiot.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair?

No.

Drool

Drool.

Its only just past midnight,

I could seduce you now (of course I could)

I just cant decide how.

I'm hazy( even with my one track mind)

Everything

From the roots of my hair to my stiff toes,

Is stern but excitable

Like the edge of a raised whip.

I could be forward, cheeky,

Stride up to you like the secretary in glasses,

From those cheap erotic novellas, selling on footpaths;

And just eat out your face (There. Sigh).

Or do I have to measure out big words

And write you a fancy poem

To tell You what I need?

Or I could sit back, and play your

Innocent, aloof princess, tucking hair behind her ear,

Like in those Oh-so-phony music videos, that always make me 

Cringe and splutter and change the channel. 

And have you come to me, and eat out my face (sigh).

Or do I have to look up the big words I've learnt,

And write you a fancy poem

To tell You what I need?

These clumsy words, that drool down my tongue

These traces of kohl, dragged under my eyes

Are all I have, to tell You what I need.

Burn

Burn

Everything I've known is burning.

My style,my work, my rhymes, years of practice.

The remains sit there sloppily, like those posers at rock concerts.

Like their pretentious t-shirts that I once coveted, all blah-blah.

Its burnt, all of it.

Yes? Yes, b'bye.

My tears burn before they fall to the ground.

This house I built for you, for us, with those wild violet flowers 

Growing into the window; We never did find out what they were called. 

The cold fire dances so fluidly, oh, I'm so hypnotized, I cannot cry,

I cannot think, I cannot love, I cannot hold you back.

Its burnt now, all of it.

No, please? Yes, b'bye.

The tears come too late, and burn before they touch the ground.

Then the fire swims to my feet and stops, waiting.

I jump in mechanically, headfirst, and don't feel a thing.

I'm all burnt, anyway.

 

If only we knew.

If Only We Knew

How loud is silence?

As loud as the thump of a plump toad

On the sickeningly moist forest floor.

As loud as the thunder in your eyes

Between kisses that we thirsted for before.

How bright is darkness?

As bright as the night of the crescent moon

Grinning vainly, against the indiscernible blue.

As bright as the sweet sweat glistening on your

Neck, smiling, as I turn around to face you.

How shallow is depth?

As shallow as this singed mountain lake, with

The embers of dead fish floating steadily to the shores.

As shallow as your words when we lay blissfully on

The covers, soaking in the laughter of yesterday's desires.

Nobody Home

Nobody Home

Friday night, smoky skies

Distant stars wane.

Cigarette butts strewn 

On the balcony floor send

Signals to them in vain.

Nobody, nobody home.

Saturday morning, cozy and bright.

The closet door falls ajar.

Unkempt dresses hang down

From scores of blue steel hangers

Which clink to say 'here we are'

But nobody, nobody home.

Monday afternoon, crackles of sun

The postman rings twice

To be sure. The electric blue

Bee, buzzes and withdraws. Strands of hair

Criss-cross with stands of sunlight

While the silken shroud billows...

..Under morbidly red rose petals, that she'd hoped would mourn.

Because the clouds were still white, and there was nobody, nobody home.