I wonder sometimes how good my memory is. When I cant things i might have done a day ago. But when i recall in vivid detail, not just colour and sound, but smell and emotion, events from more than a decade ago of my short little life....


...


I remember asking permission to god to pray in English, because my Tamil wasnt very good.


I remember standing in the waters of Changi beach and seeing that Jellyfish... dissapear into the sea.


I remember sitting at Cafe Cedele, looking at the clouds at katong and realizing. I love this country so damn much.


I remember the shore temple. I remember not wanting to leave.


I remember reading Harry Potter in the JB house. And how orange everything was. And that was all that was resting on my mind. The colour. And the joy.


I remember studying at Marine Parade Library. I remember the coffee. I remember the fight. I remember my fear. I remember the night. And going home at night. And feeling happy. And feeling so damn full of happyness.


And yes. The badminton. And the confidence. And the quiet promise of the future.


And the first VCD we had bought as a family; The Lost World. And I was excited, also in the JB house...holding the CD. Thinking about watching it. Thinking about watching it.


And watching seventh heaven on sunday afternoons. And the first time I teared when watching TV. When the eldest son was punished for carrying pot though he didnt smoke it. And the pure sense of injustice that raged through me.


And that time, at marine parade, after Marc's play, with Michelle and Alfred, when we sat at the void deck and laughed.


And alot of other void decks in pasir ris. And empty streets. and beauty taking me so powerfully, by surprise.


I dont remember alot about australia. But I remember the first time I went to India. The temples. The history. The sense of strangeness that these buildings, anachronisms were here somehow, before me. And I knew that it was beautiful.


I remember fort canning. I remember how real it was. How real everything felt. When I was a scout. When I was a boy. A teenage. A lost soul. I remember the birds. I remember the silence. I remember the friends. The peace. I remember PLTC 2003, when Mr Chew asked us to think about our future.


I remember building that fire from a single match. I remember the night. I remember the sweat. the pure will and feeling of victory. I remember what Kubo told me. I remember the grass.


I remember my eyes being closed, as i could hear and feel the insects crawl around me. My hand limp, holding my bag.. waiting for that whistle. and the whistle came. and in that moment, i could see my body move, on auto pilot, without thought, without word, without haste. I saw that I was programmed to survive.


I remember holding my grandma's hand as I walked her through thaipusam. And i remember her smile as she told everyone about it, year after year.


I remember sleepless nights sitting on the roof. I remember sleepless nights putting on my skates.


I remember pre-u seminar. How surreal it felt to have everything go my way. And there was never a bad moment. And everything was pure wonder. And i was in control, and I could see myself exercise my control, without regret and haste. And I remember stephanie telling me that I would make a good house captain. And I had no words to tell her how much that meant to me, coming from her.


I remember OBS, and the certificate presentation. I remember Alex laughing. And I remember deciding to stop being a slacker and to start making the most of it all. I remember the hike. I remember playing 'mata'.


I remember Jorge and Theodore going for that stroll around the SAC field. And how the night just stretched so wonderfully.


I remember being woken up at night. And my dad holding onto my sisters arms as he dragged her, while she stood on the skateboard.


I remember locking my syblings out of the JB house.


And I remember Hwa Chong. And entering the convention hall. And this feeling I was suddenly part of something larger. And maybe my life was destined for something great. And that same feeling when I went for my cambridge interview at OWC.


I remember the playing in the playground at the civil service club. And at the arcade. and at the pool.


And i remember the first time i finished reading the horse and his boy, and what amazement I felt.


And i remember waking up on deepavali morning when I was 10 and writing a series which never got finished but sent shivers down my spine thinking about it.


And i rememer kawait and michael and joshua. And the most unforgettable sleepover of my life.


And running barefoot up and down bukit timah hill as the rain poured down.


I remember reading God of Small Things in the TJ Library as it rained.


I remember sitting down on my own in St Pat's one monday, waiting for prefect assembly to start, as I gazed at the moon. And I knew feared with all my life that that feeling that i was feeling was going to be temporal. So i relished that moment with my life.


oh.. i really could go on. but i really shouldnt.
I dont think there is anything unhealthy about sharing myself and my memories.


But I need to sleep. Ive lived a wonderful life. My name is Rishik Menon. The Rishik comes from the name of Krishna, and is not an adaptation of the word 'Rishi'. This is my last post for the year. I hope I can break my addiction to coffee.


goodnight.

i will rule the world

Two more short poems. lets go.

---------------
life of mythic proportions

by rishik menon



and shes so quiet
and shes twilight
and i am every star
that i could wish to name
to fight the sun
of listless calm
that shakes
to brighten each and
everybodys day
---------



A matter of Pure timeliness
by Rishik V. Menon



A gift of no reasons
a gift of all seasons
a gift free from
colour or rain.
No worse than pure treason
giving such gifts a reason
so remember
the present's not sane
---------------

an ode

and now an ode. In thanks of all those feel good pop-rock songs that defined the transitional years of my life.


In too Deep by Sum 41
Fatlip by Sum41
Middle by Jimmy eat world
Right Now by SR71
The Anthem by Good Charlotte
Anthem Part 2 by Blink 182
Rockstar by Smashmouth


yeaps. that will do for now. Haha. sigh. "Right Now" is soo stuck in my head.


and so im off.

only to return again. next time.

what i did was wrong. but what i said fell so right on.

Because nothing says Crime Prevention like sharp metalloid implements.


Have a safe merry christmas everyone. I hope I will.

First and foremost

First and foremost...


Happy belated anniversary to my parents.
You know i love the two of you, and am always grateful.

-------
Its not Misogyny, dammit
by Rishik Menon


When you see the moon, do you see perfection?
An orb, illuminant, a sideless sphere?
Or do you see diana? The beauty of woman
captivating from afar, corrugated when near.

----

Its not quite why we dont engage in postcard showdowns

by Rishik V. Menon

I sit down on tiled slides in midnight playgrounds
and wonder if the first world is all its made out to be
and if there is any lace of irony
in that idea, thought out by me
in my black Pierre Cardin shirt and pants
as i sip down a cultural statement of green tea and vodka.
there is no denying the universality of youthful rebellion.
but this relativity of visions for my future is
taking my westernized mind frame by storm
as I ricochet between disparate lives
resting on dissimilar clouds that risk
to rain on this personal parade of my hopes and dreams.
why was i feeling troubled by the distance
that lay between the movies and my home?
how have i resisted this enchantment of
snow and suits and business meetings at coffee joints for so long
when the star dust from which I was made from
now seems compelled to align to that constellation.
what had gone wrong, and who was that little homunculus inside me
to pass that value judgement in me to say it was wrong in the first place?
was i not satisfied with the cold smooth slabs of
void deck chairs and tropical twilight winds
which would wash our face in a spray;
always saltwater, ever fresh.
I certainly wasnt. I was more than satisfied. I was enthralled.
I loved the quiet buzz of cicadas (not crickets)
as we rolled from tableau to tableau of still coffeeshop life
which could have come from any of the past 4 decades.
I revelled in the orange hue of streetlights, in the uncover of night
where obsolete police cars roamed absurdly,
as if on a documentary, where we were the natives.
But somewhere along the yellow lines
between the parks and race tracks
where the smell of motorcycle diesel
led our way from fishing points to 7-11s
we got lost. or at least i did.
and the pine scented fresheners are clouding
that unpleasant odour of prawn in my tackle box
and i cant find my way home.
I know its night, and I know its wet.
I know the night is young and all but yet, yet
I just dont have any idea where the hell I am heading,
or if thats a head on which Im sitting.
So i continue to ponder, and soon i start to wonder
if the moon seen from our starless skies,
and safe glass-domed nights is the same moon
that reigns from the view of a Boston apartment
a london skyline or a Parisian bar.
And maybe im cracking my head over nothing
and maybe this slide is getting the better of me
as my toes feel intoxicated from the ethereal dew on
the granular sand of this unromantic land.
..Well... I do know its the night, and i Do know it is wet
and too late to think of a fight, and yet and yet,
maybe dreams are dreams by virtue of the fact they dont come true
and maybe the moon will not help me reconcile
my hopes and dreams of the two.

i admire that!

"Its nothing to do with you. its ME. Its not you who feels your not attractive enough, its ME."


Haha!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syXC5N8Q51I

Yes you know what this means. go watch.