Framing the
Fleeting Unseen

My Poetry

How Doth it Not Suffice?

My response to Wordsworth's 'The World is Too Much with Us'
In Here, Out There

A short poem about me shuffling my sight between within and beyond
Xylems, Phloems
and Fourier Transform

First-person POV from the eyes of a twenty-something year-old Kartik
On the Universe Being a Kantian Seamless Unity with an Undeciadable Ontology

A concise (perhaps, too concise) consolidation of my core metaphysics and epistemology
Double Decker Bus

Capturing an ephermeral (yet, all-consuming) moment during my daily-commute
Reminiscing with a Friend

Uncharacteristically long nostalgia piece about my childhood on YouTube
Sunset in Malta

I saw the Mediterranean and felt internally-compelled to write something
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How doth it not suffice?

To witness the verve
of heaven’s warmth
dance to the cadence
of a primordial expanse.

Yet, to see nothing beyond some
specks of light, a patch of sea.
Indeed, such is the ailment of our eye,
the sordid boon to our sight.

But might why, shall one retreat
to Milton’s shapes of old
Proteus of the Sea.
Or, hear Poseidon’s wrath
in Triton’s thunderous decree.

How doth it not suffice, to know
with concreteness of physical proof
That ethereal undulations underlying
the unlimited un-denotable, so too
underly this delightful daffodil;
eternal crucibles of our unburning heaven,
and warbling of these countryside robins
and the vastness of connections
on the manifold of this vastness
all shimmer to the same song

How doth it not suffice,
To witness the verve
of heaven’s warmth
dance to the cadence
of a primordial expanse.

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In Here, Out There

an inexplicable improbability
and out there a dry leaf

a fractal manifold,
Tracing clockwork orbit

a tear, my tear,
right before,
it became a tear

and a symphony,
of the grass,
playing the wind

my fading memories,
and their ephemeral clues

and the first storms
on the first stars

my pains and passions of mortality,
and the uncreated transcendent reality

we share the same skies

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Xylems and Fourier Transform

Bluetooth, audio codecs, bitrate
Youtube Incorporation, Xiaomi smartphone
Fourier transforms and signal compression.
And Raag Bihag - and, the tear in my eye?

Water cycle, condensation, H2O
Oceanographic simulations, atmospheric turbulence
Meteorological departments and rainfall probabilities.
And the cloud - that looks like a rabbit?

Deodar, trunk and branches and leaves
Xylems and Phloem, chlorophyll, carbon dioxide
Indian Forest Act and minerals in the soil.
And the injured pigeon - feeding its peeps?

Telecom towers, dotted with white drums
Beams and bolts and triangles
tall, many times taller than me
And vipasha’s laughter - and, the joke she found funny?

Why? What? How? When? Where?
The world, people, things - outside
Strange, confusing, beautiful
And the world, people, things - inside?
Strange, confusing, beautiful

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On the Universe Being a
Kantian Seamless Unity with
an Undeciadable Ontology

If the grapes can shelter its warmth,
must the sun still leak through the vines?
Life is no thing but beyond it
anything cannot be

Can love float like the scent of a wet pine tree
Can my toes move through a cloud - they might
But, there are no things; how can there be!
Everything must be the only thing that is

I was the dew that holds the world
upside down on a winter night
Isn’t everything within me and
yet, for everything, there is no I

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Double Decker Bus

6 years old I
told my maa
"Mumma, I saw
a double decker bus
on TV. It looked like
a building on wheels".
She smiles, "Yes.
They run in
big cities - like Bombay.
Maybe, you will too
see one in person
if you go there one day."

Maa, today I saw
a double decker bus
It looked like a
building on wheels

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Reminiscing with a Friend

night
a pillow
6.2 inches of
amoled glow
and my attention
a fragile balance

I choose my lullaby
from recommendations
conjured up
by a mathematical genie

they say the genie lives
in silicon trenches, spans the world
travels faster than word
they say not to fear though
for the genie is trapped
in realms of abstraction
many others cry
that it is the genie
who imprisoned us
in a world - that his kind now runs
Truth, if such a fantasy exists, who knows?

questions tonight, though, are simpler
'58-mins, awakening from the Meaning Crisis?'
um, maybe today is not a John Vervaeke day
'insane engineering of F22 Raptors, then?'
no, sleep sure isn't getting me in 14 minutes
and decision fatigue twice? what a nightmare
(save it for later though)

the genie understands me
he has known me for long
when I stopped being a child
and grew up to be a boy
my uncle handed me down his
white Idea dongle and a DOCOMO SIM
and my parents, they sponsored
5GBs of data per month

scenes on my fat CRT monitor now evolved
beyond minesweeper guesses and QBASIC conditionals
to Wikipedia pages on paradoxes and Miniclip mosquitos
beyond tests of patience on Paint and
typing out Roald Dahl stories on Word
to bicycle maintenance blogs and ubuntu installation guides

of course the genie was there
even when I did not know
how and how hard he worked
to fill black mirrors with
glorious 180p magic

he knew me when I learnt to fold
origami cranes and tie Windsor knots
and also when I failed at learning, on WikiHow,
how to impress girls or do a backflip
when I yearned for
infinite gold in DragonCity and
six-pack abs in 7 days

Tonight, yet again
like a reliable friend he offers
'28 mins of exurb2a, an existential recollection
of trekking through the Appalachian trails'

Third time's the charm?
'I'll take it', I whisper in agreement.

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Sunset in Malta

A storm moves through the Mediterranean
To become the breeze I breathe

The sea salt on my glasses
scatter the setting sun
I see clearer than ever.