So you have finally declared your love for him!
In the beginning was an emotion.
The word came later.
I re-read my scribblings and laugh.
Like the earth I seem to be rotating-
Rotating around the same topic!
“The sun and your heart are of the same substance.”
I remember sending you this SMS on a Valentine’s day.
And I laugh again at what I am doing now.
The same thing.
I rotate so much and yet find myself around you!
“The earth and my mind are in unison.”
And I believe I am perfectly placed.
If I inch towards you I will burn.
If I inch away from you I will turn cold.
The earth needs the sun.
What more can I tell you?
Yes, I can tell you that when I read that statement of yours my heart burned.
My guts were suddenly hollow.
My breath turned to sand.
Yet I smiled. You can ask the people around.
Yes, I smiled.
Now, do not ask me where I get this strength from?
I have no idea.
Like always.
I live on instinct.
A river runs between two moments. Two successive moments.
There is no difference between you and your illusion.
They are the same.
Like the sun and your heart.
Like the earth and my mind.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Another birthday and I haven’t gotten over the last!!
Its her birthday tomorrow and my mind is blank. For days I have been planning to write a poem for her. But in the midst of writing a script on a boy’s loss of innocence and an adulterous woman and her paramour, I have yet to write a single word for her.
I have not been in touch with her for more than twenty five[25] months now. Quite simply because I do not have her phone number. It is still a wonder to me that even after three years of not even having a glimpse of her, I still have an enormous amount of love for her. I often wonder if this love will consume me!
Strangely, in a sense I have moved on. I know she is seeing someone. And she is happy with him. So be it!
Five months since I have moved into my new home, I have also sort of become a hermit. I hardly walk out of the house without any reason. I spend the whole day with myself and feel happy. I watch the world from my window and meditate. The chaos outside brings an element of silence within me.
Once a while I enact a scene with her. [I know this could be termed as schizophrenia but somehow I have it under total control. I can switch it on and off whenever I want!] The scene could be anything from accidentally meeting her at a friend’s party or meeting her at a coffee shop or a premiere to even changing a past episode according to the present moment’s convenience. Strange mind games! But games that help me in my creativity.
Through out my blog, in almost all my post, there is a mention of her.In the same way, consciously or sub consciously, she has become a part of my very being in everything I do.
The most beautiful aspect of this love has been that it has opened my heart. I can feel other’s pain and sorrow and participate in it. I feel as if everyone’s pain is my own. Their happiness too. Its as if the whole world has become my family. There are moments when I get so in depth with some person’s emotions that I become them. Like feeling their loneliness. Their vulnerability. Their insecurities. Their madness. Their joy.
I live alone and I cherish my loneliness. I am at peace. I do not know how but somehow I have reached a zone . A zone where I get emotional/sensitive enough, yet at the same time there is a certain detachment.[My friend Sachin prophesized about this about me years ago. At that time I hadn’t understood him or myself.]
I do only what I must. I never force myself to do anything. I have finally found peace by surrendering. Acceptance is Godliness. Acceptance of/to one’s own nature.
So this birthday, my dear little princess, there is no song or a poem. Merely a wish that you have a great time and find happiness and solace like I have found mine.
happy birthday to you...S
I have not been in touch with her for more than twenty five[25] months now. Quite simply because I do not have her phone number. It is still a wonder to me that even after three years of not even having a glimpse of her, I still have an enormous amount of love for her. I often wonder if this love will consume me!
Strangely, in a sense I have moved on. I know she is seeing someone. And she is happy with him. So be it!
Five months since I have moved into my new home, I have also sort of become a hermit. I hardly walk out of the house without any reason. I spend the whole day with myself and feel happy. I watch the world from my window and meditate. The chaos outside brings an element of silence within me.
Once a while I enact a scene with her. [I know this could be termed as schizophrenia but somehow I have it under total control. I can switch it on and off whenever I want!] The scene could be anything from accidentally meeting her at a friend’s party or meeting her at a coffee shop or a premiere to even changing a past episode according to the present moment’s convenience. Strange mind games! But games that help me in my creativity.
Through out my blog, in almost all my post, there is a mention of her.In the same way, consciously or sub consciously, she has become a part of my very being in everything I do.
The most beautiful aspect of this love has been that it has opened my heart. I can feel other’s pain and sorrow and participate in it. I feel as if everyone’s pain is my own. Their happiness too. Its as if the whole world has become my family. There are moments when I get so in depth with some person’s emotions that I become them. Like feeling their loneliness. Their vulnerability. Their insecurities. Their madness. Their joy.
I live alone and I cherish my loneliness. I am at peace. I do not know how but somehow I have reached a zone . A zone where I get emotional/sensitive enough, yet at the same time there is a certain detachment.[My friend Sachin prophesized about this about me years ago. At that time I hadn’t understood him or myself.]
I do only what I must. I never force myself to do anything. I have finally found peace by surrendering. Acceptance is Godliness. Acceptance of/to one’s own nature.
So this birthday, my dear little princess, there is no song or a poem. Merely a wish that you have a great time and find happiness and solace like I have found mine.
happy birthday to you...S
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The triangular moon on a rectangular night
At the end of this street
As you turn towards the left
There is a tree
Or let me be more specific-
There is a shadow of a tree
On which blossoms buds of sunrays
Its fragrance can be tasted on your fingertips.
The sky has been engulfed by a single drop of the ocean.
In my tea cup floats the sun like sugar cubes made of blood.
From my balcony I look down
And observe that the day is wearing a yellow night gown
And bargaining aloud
With the fish seller
As the fish turn into stinking cunts.
In a momentous swirl of an orgy.
I brush my teeth and wash my face and forget to look at my face in the mirror once again.
I wash myself with my own semen and stick on my mask for the day and walk out of my house into an incestuous world.
I walk.
I cross the road.
I hire a rickshaw.
I put on my glares.
I have only myself now.
I get down and wait as trains prostitute themselves.
I cross the red light area as usual with a phallus instead of a face.
A fart escapes and elopes with the wind.
I try to find my eyes and find it dangling between my legs.
I then realize that I can’t see my shadow. My own shadow. I look around.
I catch a glimpse of myself on the window of a passing car.
And find my shadow.
My own shadow.
I look up and see a triangular moon on the sky.
I switch off the lights of my room.
As you turn towards the left
There is a tree
Or let me be more specific-
There is a shadow of a tree
On which blossoms buds of sunrays
Its fragrance can be tasted on your fingertips.
The sky has been engulfed by a single drop of the ocean.
In my tea cup floats the sun like sugar cubes made of blood.
From my balcony I look down
And observe that the day is wearing a yellow night gown
And bargaining aloud
With the fish seller
As the fish turn into stinking cunts.
In a momentous swirl of an orgy.
I brush my teeth and wash my face and forget to look at my face in the mirror once again.
I wash myself with my own semen and stick on my mask for the day and walk out of my house into an incestuous world.
I walk.
I cross the road.
I hire a rickshaw.
I put on my glares.
I have only myself now.
I get down and wait as trains prostitute themselves.
I cross the red light area as usual with a phallus instead of a face.
A fart escapes and elopes with the wind.
I try to find my eyes and find it dangling between my legs.
I then realize that I can’t see my shadow. My own shadow. I look around.
I catch a glimpse of myself on the window of a passing car.
And find my shadow.
My own shadow.
I look up and see a triangular moon on the sky.
I switch off the lights of my room.
Friday, September 24, 2010
On a visit to Meherabad
How many times have I visited your home?
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I have gone astray
You’ve embraced me with your loving gaze
C’mon Baba! Why do you forgive me so easily?
I, who live in a harem of temptations,
Surrounded by voluptuous desires
C’mon Baba! Don’t sit there and smile at me
That I have to close my eyes and see my ego bleed
Its painful! Its painful! Its painful!
How many times have I visited your home?
How many times have I profaned its sanctity?
And everytime you’ve made me realize
The world is merely a reflection of what one is within
C’mon Baba! Don’t tease me day and night
And remind me that the body is a mere mistress
And the soul -the eternal mate
C’mon Baba! Reprimand me once a while
Whenever I dance with the serpent
Intoxicated by the cup of moonlight
Everytime I have visited your home
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I take your leave
I realize you are the guardian of my heart.
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I have gone astray
You’ve embraced me with your loving gaze
C’mon Baba! Why do you forgive me so easily?
I, who live in a harem of temptations,
Surrounded by voluptuous desires
C’mon Baba! Don’t sit there and smile at me
That I have to close my eyes and see my ego bleed
Its painful! Its painful! Its painful!
How many times have I visited your home?
How many times have I profaned its sanctity?
And everytime you’ve made me realize
The world is merely a reflection of what one is within
C’mon Baba! Don’t tease me day and night
And remind me that the body is a mere mistress
And the soul -the eternal mate
C’mon Baba! Reprimand me once a while
Whenever I dance with the serpent
Intoxicated by the cup of moonlight
Everytime I have visited your home
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I take your leave
I realize you are the guardian of my heart.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Love unleashed
Oh! This sweet pain in my heart!
Is this what they call love?
This fire burns me
And I feel whole!
Her gaze is my clear blue sky
I find my tears smile
Words dance in harmony
With the rhythm of my soul.
This song sings on its own
I can merely feel my breath
O, heavens! Up above
Show me the way to my beloved!
Is this what they call love?
This fire burns me
And I feel whole!
Her gaze is my clear blue sky
I find my tears smile
Words dance in harmony
With the rhythm of my soul.
This song sings on its own
I can merely feel my breath
O, heavens! Up above
Show me the way to my beloved!
To Meher Baba, with love
The song in Hindustani:
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Zahan mein zinda ho tum suba-O-shaam
Meher, Meher mere meherban…
Sukoon hai mujhko kyon ki tere aagosh mein hoon
Har daar ko mitta kar dil se khule aakash mein hoon
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Har aas mein,har saans mein bas tera naam
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Bhoola bhatka raahi main hoon rehunuma tum ho
Parampujya parmesh parmatma tum ho
Meher, meher mere meherban
Aeshu tumhi,tum hi Rahim tum hi Ram
Meher,Meher mere meherban
Zahan mein zinda ho tum sub-O-shaam
Meher, Meher mere meherban.
The translation in English:
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
For living in my consciousness,day and night.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
I am at peace ‘cause I am in your protection
Without a fear in my heart I feel boundless as the sky
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
In all my hope,in my every breath, there is you.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
I am a wayfarer, you are my guide
You are divine,sublime,supreme
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
You are Christ, you are Rahim, you are Ram
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
For living in my consciousness,day and night.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Zahan mein zinda ho tum suba-O-shaam
Meher, Meher mere meherban…
Sukoon hai mujhko kyon ki tere aagosh mein hoon
Har daar ko mitta kar dil se khule aakash mein hoon
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Har aas mein,har saans mein bas tera naam
Meher, Meher mere meherban
Bhoola bhatka raahi main hoon rehunuma tum ho
Parampujya parmesh parmatma tum ho
Meher, meher mere meherban
Aeshu tumhi,tum hi Rahim tum hi Ram
Meher,Meher mere meherban
Zahan mein zinda ho tum sub-O-shaam
Meher, Meher mere meherban.
The translation in English:
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
For living in my consciousness,day and night.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
I am at peace ‘cause I am in your protection
Without a fear in my heart I feel boundless as the sky
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
In all my hope,in my every breath, there is you.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
I am a wayfarer, you are my guide
You are divine,sublime,supreme
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
You are Christ, you are Rahim, you are Ram
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
For living in my consciousness,day and night.
Meher, my Meher, thank you for your grace
Friday, September 17, 2010
man re tu kahe na dheer dhare...
Mann Re Tu Kaahe Na Dheer Dhare
O Nirmohi Moh Na Jaane Jinka Moh Kare
Man Re Tu Kaahe Na Dheer Dhare
O my dear one have control over yourself; You don’t understand the worldly desires which you try to seek.
Iss Jeevan Ki Chadhti Dhalti
Dhoop Ko Kiss Ne Baandha
Rang Pe Kiss Ne Pehre Daale
Roop Ko Kiss Ne Baandha
Kaahe Yeh Jatan Kare
Man Re Tu Kaahe Na Dheer Dhare
Why do you put so much effort and waste your time & energy in understanding the ups and downs of worldly things. Every thing happens with Gods will. O my dear have control over yourself.
Utna Hi Upkaar Samajh Koi
Jitna Saath Nibhaa De
Janam Maran Ka Mel Hai Sapna
Yeh Sapna Bisraa De
Koi Na Sang Mare
In this world every thing is temporary our friends, relatives and near & dear ones. They all play their roles and part away with time. The life which we live is like a dream, where nothing is permanent. We come alone and leave this world alone; no one comes along with us.
O Nirmohi Moh Na Jaane Jinka Moh Kare
Man Re Tu Kaahe Na Dheer Dhare
O my dear one have control over yourself; You don’t understand the worldly desires which you try to seek.
Iss Jeevan Ki Chadhti Dhalti
Dhoop Ko Kiss Ne Baandha
Rang Pe Kiss Ne Pehre Daale
Roop Ko Kiss Ne Baandha
Kaahe Yeh Jatan Kare
Man Re Tu Kaahe Na Dheer Dhare
Why do you put so much effort and waste your time & energy in understanding the ups and downs of worldly things. Every thing happens with Gods will. O my dear have control over yourself.
Utna Hi Upkaar Samajh Koi
Jitna Saath Nibhaa De
Janam Maran Ka Mel Hai Sapna
Yeh Sapna Bisraa De
Koi Na Sang Mare
In this world every thing is temporary our friends, relatives and near & dear ones. They all play their roles and part away with time. The life which we live is like a dream, where nothing is permanent. We come alone and leave this world alone; no one comes along with us.
This is AWESOME!!!
This is awesome ... read on....
Letters 'a', 'b', 'c' & 'd' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 99
(Letter 'd' comes for the first time in Hundred)
Letters 'a', 'b' & 'c' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 999
(Letter 'a' comes for the first time in Thousand)
Letters 'b' & 'c' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 999,999,999
(Letter 'b' comes for the first time in Billion)
and
Letter 'c' does not appear anywhere in the spellings of entire English counting
Letters 'a', 'b', 'c' & 'd' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 99
(Letter 'd' comes for the first time in Hundred)
Letters 'a', 'b' & 'c' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 999
(Letter 'a' comes for the first time in Thousand)
Letters 'b' & 'c' do not appear anywhere in the spellings of 1 to 999,999,999
(Letter 'b' comes for the first time in Billion)
and
Letter 'c' does not appear anywhere in the spellings of entire English counting
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
LAST NIGHT
It was a moonlit night
A few moments ago
And now it rains-
Did anyone hear the heartbreak
Of silence?
The tiresome day had gone off to sleep
Listening to the lullaby of dusk
The night tiptoed
With her intoxicating
black tresses.
The crescent moon and the north star
Flirted in the garden of clouds
The wind was dozing off
In the company of silence
Whose heart murmured a song.
Did anyone hear the song?
Did anyone hear the outburst
Of a forgotten emotion?
Did anyone see the blooming
Of the first tear in that corner of the heart?
The rains took the clouds by surprise!
For it originated in the heart
The eyes too weren’t ready
As the song floated
In an ocean of nostalgia.
Probably the cry was deafened
By its own echo
Has anyone ever heard
The heart of silence
The cry of silence?
A few moments ago
And now it rains-
Did anyone hear the heartbreak
Of silence?
The tiresome day had gone off to sleep
Listening to the lullaby of dusk
The night tiptoed
With her intoxicating
black tresses.
The crescent moon and the north star
Flirted in the garden of clouds
The wind was dozing off
In the company of silence
Whose heart murmured a song.
Did anyone hear the song?
Did anyone hear the outburst
Of a forgotten emotion?
Did anyone see the blooming
Of the first tear in that corner of the heart?
The rains took the clouds by surprise!
For it originated in the heart
The eyes too weren’t ready
As the song floated
In an ocean of nostalgia.
Probably the cry was deafened
By its own echo
Has anyone ever heard
The heart of silence
The cry of silence?
Monday, September 6, 2010
Stray thoughts in an idle mind...
We spend our whole life in an orgy of the senses. Death is the final orgasm.
I am in complete control of my demons. Its my angels I am worried about. They get so easily tempted. I have put them on a leash.
If the truth is that the whole world is an illusion then doesn’t truth itself become an illusion?
Am I God or am I the devil? The clarity and deliberateness of my thoughts and actions have created this illusion!
Everyman has the same destiny. You are born. You suffer. You die. To be born again. One has to lose one’s kingdom to gain His kingdom. To win one has to lose. A good loser builds his kingdom with all the love and beauty so that when the Winner takes it all, he knows that he can look into the Winner’s eyes without shame and with pride. That’s spirituality. Everything else is bullshit.
Everything in life is a gain. There is nothing to lose but life itself.
The opposite of life is not death. Its “waste”.
Those who love you betray you. Judas was the real Christ.
Do not trust me. The only person I am loyal to is myself. Do not let my demeanor fool you. I am the great pretender. I am playing God with myself.
The devil is the other face of God Himself. Or let me put it this way…”Which is The Face, which is The Mask?”
I am in complete control of my demons. Its my angels I am worried about. They get so easily tempted. I have put them on a leash.
If the truth is that the whole world is an illusion then doesn’t truth itself become an illusion?
Am I God or am I the devil? The clarity and deliberateness of my thoughts and actions have created this illusion!
Everyman has the same destiny. You are born. You suffer. You die. To be born again. One has to lose one’s kingdom to gain His kingdom. To win one has to lose. A good loser builds his kingdom with all the love and beauty so that when the Winner takes it all, he knows that he can look into the Winner’s eyes without shame and with pride. That’s spirituality. Everything else is bullshit.
Everything in life is a gain. There is nothing to lose but life itself.
The opposite of life is not death. Its “waste”.
Those who love you betray you. Judas was the real Christ.
Do not trust me. The only person I am loyal to is myself. Do not let my demeanor fool you. I am the great pretender. I am playing God with myself.
The devil is the other face of God Himself. Or let me put it this way…”Which is The Face, which is The Mask?”
Friday, September 3, 2010
Wandering Thoughts
There is no difference between my life and a dream. I have dreamt my life. My life has been a dream.
Also today, I sort of understand the meaning of what Sachin always tells me-“You are the most successful man I have met.”
Success means how assessable you are to your soul. One’s life belongs to the soul. Just like man belongs to the earth. The earth does not belong to the man.
It does not take much to live a life. Financially.
Its never enough to fulfill a lifestyle.
Lately I have been wondering-“ Seclusion suits me.”
I go without talking for days together and find myself not missing a thing.
And when I do go out and meet people they do not find anything missing in me.
I still can talk like before.
Even ABCD said with total faith is prayer. In the temple of your soul words can’t enter.
I do talk a lot of bullshit. They don’t mean a thing. Sometimes I feel like telling the people around that all these talks don’t matter. But then I realize that even silence wouldn’t matter to them. One hardly listens to what is being said. One only hears what one wants to hear.
Silence can be deafening.
Always maintain the dignity of one’s conscience.
Its only the fragrance of love that can banish a stinking intellect.
Love and intelligence can’t go together.
There is something bigger than this earth. A man’s ego.
Spirituality is as much an inventive word like God. Also as much misused.
One doesn’t need to move an inch and yet conquer the world. Alexander was a fool.
We remember some people more when they are dead than when they were alive. Its as if they are more alive now.
Do people really die or do they get geographically dislocated?
Like say, he/she used to live in Bandra but now lives in my heart! [lol]
You feel that person is closer and you understand him/her better now.
You may live with someone a whole lifetime and yet not know him/her.
You may live a whole lifetime by yourself and yet feel a stranger.
I laugh in my heart when I hear someone say-“ I would like to know you better.”
“ Ask her if she knows herself well. Tell her it would be more pragmatic if she takes that kind of interest in herself.”-My heart whispers to me.
Its hardly the thing you would want to say to a woman when there is a bloodrush towards your libido.
Also today, I sort of understand the meaning of what Sachin always tells me-“You are the most successful man I have met.”
Success means how assessable you are to your soul. One’s life belongs to the soul. Just like man belongs to the earth. The earth does not belong to the man.
It does not take much to live a life. Financially.
Its never enough to fulfill a lifestyle.
Lately I have been wondering-“ Seclusion suits me.”
I go without talking for days together and find myself not missing a thing.
And when I do go out and meet people they do not find anything missing in me.
I still can talk like before.
Even ABCD said with total faith is prayer. In the temple of your soul words can’t enter.
I do talk a lot of bullshit. They don’t mean a thing. Sometimes I feel like telling the people around that all these talks don’t matter. But then I realize that even silence wouldn’t matter to them. One hardly listens to what is being said. One only hears what one wants to hear.
Silence can be deafening.
Always maintain the dignity of one’s conscience.
Its only the fragrance of love that can banish a stinking intellect.
Love and intelligence can’t go together.
There is something bigger than this earth. A man’s ego.
Spirituality is as much an inventive word like God. Also as much misused.
One doesn’t need to move an inch and yet conquer the world. Alexander was a fool.
We remember some people more when they are dead than when they were alive. Its as if they are more alive now.
Do people really die or do they get geographically dislocated?
Like say, he/she used to live in Bandra but now lives in my heart! [lol]
You feel that person is closer and you understand him/her better now.
You may live with someone a whole lifetime and yet not know him/her.
You may live a whole lifetime by yourself and yet feel a stranger.
I laugh in my heart when I hear someone say-“ I would like to know you better.”
“ Ask her if she knows herself well. Tell her it would be more pragmatic if she takes that kind of interest in herself.”-My heart whispers to me.
Its hardly the thing you would want to say to a woman when there is a bloodrush towards your libido.
The sun shines through...
Finally a sunny day
After days of rain
A thought train
Ponders at bay
Someone exists
For everyone
Life is a fun
Hard to resist
Where is she?
My beloved
Lying in bed
alone- is no glee!
“The sun never sets
Ask the moon”
A pleasant afternoon
A pigeon jests
The pond reflects
The smiling sun
Son of a gun!
See the effect!
The patient wind
Listens to vehicular chaos
Like “riyaaz”
Rewinding in the mind
A clever crow
Eyes a baby pigeon
Stealing is religion
Life – borrowed.
After days of rain
A thought train
Ponders at bay
Someone exists
For everyone
Life is a fun
Hard to resist
Where is she?
My beloved
Lying in bed
alone- is no glee!
“The sun never sets
Ask the moon”
A pleasant afternoon
A pigeon jests
The pond reflects
The smiling sun
Son of a gun!
See the effect!
The patient wind
Listens to vehicular chaos
Like “riyaaz”
Rewinding in the mind
A clever crow
Eyes a baby pigeon
Stealing is religion
Life – borrowed.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Matheran- In Retrospect
Four years later I am traveling to Matheran. To scout locations for my short films. I woke up at 4 30 in the morning and got the 5 40 train to Churchgate. It was at around this time it suddenly flashed to me that I would be going to Matheran after a gap of four years. “She had cried then…over the phone!”- I remembered and found myself smiling.
Four years. And it seemed like a moment ago as is often the case with her memories. They never seem distant. There are times when I have to remind myself that I am living my life and not “her memory”.
She killed me. She resurrected me. She made me.
There are even times when I jokingly tell myself-“ Rajiv…you are nothing but a figment of her imagination!” As if one fine day, she would get amnesic and I would cease to exist. LOL!! But the human mind can play tricks as we all know by now.
The heart is the eternal prankster. Notches above rationality!
I catch the train from Dadar to Karjat[which incidentally starts with a S, I wonder why?] after buying a ticket to Nerul from Andheri which is where I had asked P to meet me and where I had a breakfast of “kheema pav” with hot tea in an Irani restaurant.
For that time being she did escape from my mind. A drunken friend of P was there too, at the restaurant and he was feeding his own ego.
Four years! In four years it seems nothing has changed. And yet everything has. I have finally grown up. Grown up …back into a child.
Somewhere in the pursuit of “success” I had lost the connectivity with myself. I was a mausoleum in the graveyard of ambition.
She had entered my life at its nadir. And then taught me to fly.
That hug, that kiss, those words of kindness had given me wings. And her final stroke of indifference had become the wind beneath those very wings.
“ If you open your heart you can touch the sky.”
At the station, we meet a man called Shinde who works as a cashier in a bank. He is, he tells us, traveling further than Nerul to a place called Khapoli.
“ Seven hours of my everyday is spend traveling to and fro between office and home. ”
He had been doing that for the past 10 years and had no plans to change the pattern as it would disturb his son’s academic career.
“ Ten more years…and then I retire.” He is in his fifties.
Sacrifice.
Sometimes I do wonder[ you must all be thinking that “wondering” is all that I do by now! LOL] whether she had sacrificed me for my own evolvement!
A woman is God.
The devil is a woman.
As the train stops at Nerul, I feel my cellphone in my pocket and wish it rings. Like it had four years ago. Then G had waited for me after we had hired a cab as I sat down on the platform bench to pacify my crying princess. He waited for twenty minutes.[Its another story what those twenty minutes did to his mind!]
“They” said she looked for me when she arrived at the editing studio.
“ How long does it take from Matheran to Mumbai?”- She had asked me when I did return. She was serious.
“ Two hours…two and a half hours…”
She had “hmmmmed”.
Four years later as I stand and walk on that platform, I can feel her tears in my smile.
Four years ago mobile signals were not that good in Matheran. I remember walking miles to tell her – “ you can now bake your cake!”
She wouldn’t get to eat it. The director had made sure of that. How an associate director could pull the rug from under the feet of a director is something I am still trying to analyze.
He blamed me for making it her film. He had asked me to be in charge of her and then how can I be punished for a job well done???
My professionalism was mistaken for my love.
She was my life. The film was “a work”.
As I click pictures of prospective location spots for my shoot, I sort of narrate the whole episode to P.
It had rained then. Now, there is a heavy downpour.
My work is my love.
She is there in all my work.
No mistakes there!
Four years later I am in Matheran.
It takes a longer time to reach than the two-two and a half hours I had told her.
Four years ago.
My phone has fallen silent. She has a new number.
The waterfall seems to be still. But the mountain across the valley is singing a song. And the clouds seem to be floating in the river. The rains smell of freshly roasted corns.
For the time being I am free from her memory. And I cease to exist.
Four years. And it seemed like a moment ago as is often the case with her memories. They never seem distant. There are times when I have to remind myself that I am living my life and not “her memory”.
She killed me. She resurrected me. She made me.
There are even times when I jokingly tell myself-“ Rajiv…you are nothing but a figment of her imagination!” As if one fine day, she would get amnesic and I would cease to exist. LOL!! But the human mind can play tricks as we all know by now.
The heart is the eternal prankster. Notches above rationality!
I catch the train from Dadar to Karjat[which incidentally starts with a S, I wonder why?] after buying a ticket to Nerul from Andheri which is where I had asked P to meet me and where I had a breakfast of “kheema pav” with hot tea in an Irani restaurant.
For that time being she did escape from my mind. A drunken friend of P was there too, at the restaurant and he was feeding his own ego.
Four years! In four years it seems nothing has changed. And yet everything has. I have finally grown up. Grown up …back into a child.
Somewhere in the pursuit of “success” I had lost the connectivity with myself. I was a mausoleum in the graveyard of ambition.
She had entered my life at its nadir. And then taught me to fly.
That hug, that kiss, those words of kindness had given me wings. And her final stroke of indifference had become the wind beneath those very wings.
“ If you open your heart you can touch the sky.”
At the station, we meet a man called Shinde who works as a cashier in a bank. He is, he tells us, traveling further than Nerul to a place called Khapoli.
“ Seven hours of my everyday is spend traveling to and fro between office and home. ”
He had been doing that for the past 10 years and had no plans to change the pattern as it would disturb his son’s academic career.
“ Ten more years…and then I retire.” He is in his fifties.
Sacrifice.
Sometimes I do wonder[ you must all be thinking that “wondering” is all that I do by now! LOL] whether she had sacrificed me for my own evolvement!
A woman is God.
The devil is a woman.
As the train stops at Nerul, I feel my cellphone in my pocket and wish it rings. Like it had four years ago. Then G had waited for me after we had hired a cab as I sat down on the platform bench to pacify my crying princess. He waited for twenty minutes.[Its another story what those twenty minutes did to his mind!]
“They” said she looked for me when she arrived at the editing studio.
“ How long does it take from Matheran to Mumbai?”- She had asked me when I did return. She was serious.
“ Two hours…two and a half hours…”
She had “hmmmmed”.
Four years later as I stand and walk on that platform, I can feel her tears in my smile.
Four years ago mobile signals were not that good in Matheran. I remember walking miles to tell her – “ you can now bake your cake!”
She wouldn’t get to eat it. The director had made sure of that. How an associate director could pull the rug from under the feet of a director is something I am still trying to analyze.
He blamed me for making it her film. He had asked me to be in charge of her and then how can I be punished for a job well done???
My professionalism was mistaken for my love.
She was my life. The film was “a work”.
As I click pictures of prospective location spots for my shoot, I sort of narrate the whole episode to P.
It had rained then. Now, there is a heavy downpour.
My work is my love.
She is there in all my work.
No mistakes there!
Four years later I am in Matheran.
It takes a longer time to reach than the two-two and a half hours I had told her.
Four years ago.
My phone has fallen silent. She has a new number.
The waterfall seems to be still. But the mountain across the valley is singing a song. And the clouds seem to be floating in the river. The rains smell of freshly roasted corns.
For the time being I am free from her memory. And I cease to exist.
Friday, July 9, 2010
My Birthday Wish
I would love to live in a world without languages. San words. In a world resonating with the silence of love. Where a mere glance, a smile would reveal a man’s true nature.
I would love to live in a world where the only road is the road that connects two human beings. Walking on their feet. Where vehicle horns are replaced with laughter. A world without flyovers and subways. No shortcuts.
A world without ideologies and philosophies. No government or bureaucracy. Where people can live and breathe as free individuals. I would love to live in a world where there is no expectancy other than to lead an honest life.
I would love to live in a world where there is no discrimination between the sexes. Or color. Where “we” the humans and “they” the animals can live in peaceful harmony.
In a world where there are no currencies. A world without banks and credit cards. ATM’s and debit cards. I would love to live in a world where I don’t have to prove my identity at every nook and corner. No passports. No PAN cards. Where when two people meet they can rub their noses and exchange kisses. And embrace without fear.
I would love to live in a world where no man feels lonely. Where one can accept a complete stranger as a gift of the moment.
I would love to live in a world where I can wake up every morning like a fresh dew and see the sun “rise” and every evening sing a lullaby like the waves of the ocean and cradle the “setting” sun. A world where flowers would love to bloom and woo us with its fragrance. A world where the flirting breeze can sweep us off our feet.
I would love to live in a world where I can call out to God and hear its echo deep in core of my own being.
I would love to live in a world where the only road is the road that connects two human beings. Walking on their feet. Where vehicle horns are replaced with laughter. A world without flyovers and subways. No shortcuts.
A world without ideologies and philosophies. No government or bureaucracy. Where people can live and breathe as free individuals. I would love to live in a world where there is no expectancy other than to lead an honest life.
I would love to live in a world where there is no discrimination between the sexes. Or color. Where “we” the humans and “they” the animals can live in peaceful harmony.
In a world where there are no currencies. A world without banks and credit cards. ATM’s and debit cards. I would love to live in a world where I don’t have to prove my identity at every nook and corner. No passports. No PAN cards. Where when two people meet they can rub their noses and exchange kisses. And embrace without fear.
I would love to live in a world where no man feels lonely. Where one can accept a complete stranger as a gift of the moment.
I would love to live in a world where I can wake up every morning like a fresh dew and see the sun “rise” and every evening sing a lullaby like the waves of the ocean and cradle the “setting” sun. A world where flowers would love to bloom and woo us with its fragrance. A world where the flirting breeze can sweep us off our feet.
I would love to live in a world where I can call out to God and hear its echo deep in core of my own being.
In Memory of a Fairytale
The soul is a circle
Within a circle
A mirror-reflects.
Suffering is an eternal fire to burn the body.
Burn! Burn! Burn!
For the glory of the soul.
A fairytale is the truth a child forgets
When he enters adulthood.
And then-
Truth becomes a fairytale
Always beyond the grasp
Ever wondered-“ Wasn’t it just yesterday that I could hold the entire sky in my little palm?”
The moon sheds its skin
A man his whole lifetime
To unveil the image.
A man is but
The God’s shadow
Illuminate! Illuminate! Illuminate!
Within a circle
A mirror-reflects.
Suffering is an eternal fire to burn the body.
Burn! Burn! Burn!
For the glory of the soul.
A fairytale is the truth a child forgets
When he enters adulthood.
And then-
Truth becomes a fairytale
Always beyond the grasp
Ever wondered-“ Wasn’t it just yesterday that I could hold the entire sky in my little palm?”
The moon sheds its skin
A man his whole lifetime
To unveil the image.
A man is but
The God’s shadow
Illuminate! Illuminate! Illuminate!
Monday, June 21, 2010
7 40 pm 18/06/10
O’ the drenched stars
Falling upon me from the heavens
“ I love my little princess…”
I whisper to the moon
who has taken shelter
in the warmth of my eyes.
MY WHISPER THUNDERS!
ECHOES
“ I love my little princess…I love m…y li..tt..le…pr..in.c…..”
and a trainof lightening ruuuuuuuuunsssssssss throooooooouugh my VEINS.
The earth around me has turned into an ocean of stars
And more stars fall upon those stars
Incessantly.
And as the ocean rises
I find a new depth within me
Farther
Than the horizon
And yet
I traverse the distance-
in a breath.
At the abode of the soul I meet her.
Falling upon me from the heavens
“ I love my little princess…”
I whisper to the moon
who has taken shelter
in the warmth of my eyes.
MY WHISPER THUNDERS!
ECHOES
“ I love my little princess…I love m…y li..tt..le…pr..in.c…..”
and a trainof lightening ruuuuuuuuunsssssssss throooooooouugh my VEINS.
The earth around me has turned into an ocean of stars
And more stars fall upon those stars
Incessantly.
And as the ocean rises
I find a new depth within me
Farther
Than the horizon
And yet
I traverse the distance-
in a breath.
At the abode of the soul I meet her.
A Pain in the Arse
Only a capitalist will condemn the Maoists. A communist understands the significance of the color red. They also know the value of blood whether their own or those of the innocents.
No revolution is possible without violence. Try bringing a change in yourself and you will know. There is no self realization too without a massacre!
My heart is with the Maoist. Whatever their philosophy might be, the history of mankind has been the history of survival. I have heard stories from my friend,G, about the negligence and the atrocities the people in these region[north-east] face from the Indian government and the Indian army. Let’s admit at least now that we have treated that part of India like a pariah. Or until now.
Now we realize the potential of this region what with all its natural resources! So now the government wants its piece of cake. But what about the people. A country is not merely about economics.
Its very easy to sit in one’s home in a metropolis and condemn them. What else can we do except that with our social impotency! How many people are we going to dislocate in our march towards consumer supremacy? Does anyone in the city care how many villages have to go without electricity so that our malls can be lit up?
Its so easy to condemn a loser. But trust me, finally the loser will take it all. For the next big war is going to be a war from within. Between the rich and the poor. And the poor has nothing to lose. Even their own death will be a gain.
Capitalism is the byproduct of Christianity. They both function with the same fundamentals. [Go figure that out.] A crucified Christ is nothing more than a good advertisement conceived by a scoundrel of an emperor called Constantine. He knew that the public loves a “sacrifice”.
We are still the same. There is no difference between the Romans who accepted the “sacrifice” of Christ and our condemnation of the Maoist killings. We condemn what we cannot justify.
Who the fuck are we? And what’s this whole bullshit about charity and kindness? Who are we fooling here but ourselves! I find more cruelty in the kindness that we practice than in those bullets that kill a traveler/bystander.
P S : A painful boil on my arse made me think about the insignificance of our inflated ego. We are as important as a worm in the architecture of this universe. Nothing more.
No revolution is possible without violence. Try bringing a change in yourself and you will know. There is no self realization too without a massacre!
My heart is with the Maoist. Whatever their philosophy might be, the history of mankind has been the history of survival. I have heard stories from my friend,G, about the negligence and the atrocities the people in these region[north-east] face from the Indian government and the Indian army. Let’s admit at least now that we have treated that part of India like a pariah. Or until now.
Now we realize the potential of this region what with all its natural resources! So now the government wants its piece of cake. But what about the people. A country is not merely about economics.
Its very easy to sit in one’s home in a metropolis and condemn them. What else can we do except that with our social impotency! How many people are we going to dislocate in our march towards consumer supremacy? Does anyone in the city care how many villages have to go without electricity so that our malls can be lit up?
Its so easy to condemn a loser. But trust me, finally the loser will take it all. For the next big war is going to be a war from within. Between the rich and the poor. And the poor has nothing to lose. Even their own death will be a gain.
Capitalism is the byproduct of Christianity. They both function with the same fundamentals. [Go figure that out.] A crucified Christ is nothing more than a good advertisement conceived by a scoundrel of an emperor called Constantine. He knew that the public loves a “sacrifice”.
We are still the same. There is no difference between the Romans who accepted the “sacrifice” of Christ and our condemnation of the Maoist killings. We condemn what we cannot justify.
Who the fuck are we? And what’s this whole bullshit about charity and kindness? Who are we fooling here but ourselves! I find more cruelty in the kindness that we practice than in those bullets that kill a traveler/bystander.
P S : A painful boil on my arse made me think about the insignificance of our inflated ego. We are as important as a worm in the architecture of this universe. Nothing more.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
WITHIN[15/09/2007]
I miss you and find
Something missing within myself
Missing that heartbeat
That once waltzed with yours
That night on the terrace
To the strains of-“ Hmm…hmm hmm hmm…”
The night was cold
And you burst upon me
Like the twinkling star that you are
“ I got something for you.”
And you disappeared much to my astonishment.
And arrived ten minutes later
With a smile.
Music brought us together.
Tonight is warm
Like sweet memories
Remember the puppy that you wanted to bring home?
Or for that matter the ballad we sang in freezing cold?
“ Sometimes I think of you as if you have been made for me…”
Or for that matter the ballad we sang on another freezing night!
“ You, take me anywhere without telling me…”
Music got us together.
The night is silent
Holding a secret within its heart
You say nothing and yet
I understand you.
And I understand myself.
You are the cleanest mirror I have ever looked into.
And I saw the beauty within the beast.
How I wish I could have been that mirror to you too!!!
How I wish !
I was impure.
Hence you could not see yourself.
You were always right.
And I have always been the late bloomer
A dweller of nostalgia
A traveler of dreams
An absentee of now.
Something missing within myself
Missing that heartbeat
That once waltzed with yours
That night on the terrace
To the strains of-“ Hmm…hmm hmm hmm…”
The night was cold
And you burst upon me
Like the twinkling star that you are
“ I got something for you.”
And you disappeared much to my astonishment.
And arrived ten minutes later
With a smile.
Music brought us together.
Tonight is warm
Like sweet memories
Remember the puppy that you wanted to bring home?
Or for that matter the ballad we sang in freezing cold?
“ Sometimes I think of you as if you have been made for me…”
Or for that matter the ballad we sang on another freezing night!
“ You, take me anywhere without telling me…”
Music got us together.
The night is silent
Holding a secret within its heart
You say nothing and yet
I understand you.
And I understand myself.
You are the cleanest mirror I have ever looked into.
And I saw the beauty within the beast.
How I wish I could have been that mirror to you too!!!
How I wish !
I was impure.
Hence you could not see yourself.
You were always right.
And I have always been the late bloomer
A dweller of nostalgia
A traveler of dreams
An absentee of now.
Friday, May 7, 2010
A Home For The Cloud
The French window makes the perspective more than obvious. A spread out concrete jungle and a clear blue sky on which white rudderless ships that float around. Some five hundred yards away there is a gulmohar tree in full bloom. And three roads meet. Somehow everything seems to be in motion. I can even sense the rotation of the earth. Strangely, for God knows what reason, I am not surprised for something within me whispers –“ The only permanent thing is change.”
Is a being a gypsy a physical journey? Definitely, any dictionary in the world would tell you it is. If that’s the case, I am done. But then , as I have throughout my life observed, words do not have a definite meaning at all. Some of the most profound lessons I have learned have been from sentences/words that at first encounter have sounded or looked banal.
The problem is we use too many words and talk too much to render all of it meaningless. Words create confusion. [Now! Where am I going?] Yes, so my gypsy days are not over though everyone around wants to believe so. I can understand their desire to shackle me. “ How is it possible that he can float like a cloud when we all are grounded.” Settling down is as much a herd mentality as anything else we adhere to since the advent of civilization. The world is ruled by slaves who fear freedom. The gaol is a safe place.
So finally, I am a prisoner too. I searched and bought my own cell to live in, finally. I even planned how it should look like! Everyone around is happy and in a celebratory mood. Why deny anyone a tinge of happiness in a world filled with misery? Probably, I have sacrificed the physical aspect of wandering but then I have been more of an emotional traveler than a physical one. Mentally too, I have been more inward than outward.
You can’t change the properties of a cloud. You can ,maybe, grasp him for a while but finally the cloud knows its destiny.
Is a being a gypsy a physical journey? Definitely, any dictionary in the world would tell you it is. If that’s the case, I am done. But then , as I have throughout my life observed, words do not have a definite meaning at all. Some of the most profound lessons I have learned have been from sentences/words that at first encounter have sounded or looked banal.
The problem is we use too many words and talk too much to render all of it meaningless. Words create confusion. [Now! Where am I going?] Yes, so my gypsy days are not over though everyone around wants to believe so. I can understand their desire to shackle me. “ How is it possible that he can float like a cloud when we all are grounded.” Settling down is as much a herd mentality as anything else we adhere to since the advent of civilization. The world is ruled by slaves who fear freedom. The gaol is a safe place.
So finally, I am a prisoner too. I searched and bought my own cell to live in, finally. I even planned how it should look like! Everyone around is happy and in a celebratory mood. Why deny anyone a tinge of happiness in a world filled with misery? Probably, I have sacrificed the physical aspect of wandering but then I have been more of an emotional traveler than a physical one. Mentally too, I have been more inward than outward.
You can’t change the properties of a cloud. You can ,maybe, grasp him for a while but finally the cloud knows its destiny.
Monday, May 3, 2010
HABIT
“ Tears over crosswords…..” That’s how it began. Can’t remember a word beyond that. Ten days of my life that changed everything. It had started with a declaration. And then, the tears. Then came the hug that I can still feel after all these years. And then the kiss that sealed my fate. And finally a marriage.
These ten days have a lifetime of it’s own.
There has never been a day since, when I haven’t relived those ten days. And after thirty months of invisibility and twenty months of silence, it is amazing that these memories are still afresh. Its seems like a moment ago and it seems like millenniums ago! the architecture of my heaven is made of these memories. The landscape of her smile spreads out to the horizon. Her “hello” echoes like the primal word across, from horizon to horizon. Her song runs through my veins.
I wake up everyday with her thought and go to bed thinking of her. And then there are the prayers. I go through all my motions imagining her around me. Am I schizophrenic? Aren’t all lovers? Thankfully my schizophrenia is under my control. My mind, in fact, is totally under control unlike my heart.
My heart is a habitual offender at pulling strings. Keeps on pulling the strings of my emotions. That spring in my walk, where did I get that from? It also makes me become her once a while. Like last night I was out for dinner. And I suddenly felt I was her. Every expression, every gesture, every movement I made was hers. For a while I was even lost in it. I could touch her soul wherever she was. It’s a strange out of body experience where I could see myself as her!
Normally my heart delights in doing this when I am alone. But last night, it happened in front of people. I somehow survived it with a smile. Later that night, back home, I laughed my self to sleep.
These ten days have a lifetime of it’s own.
There has never been a day since, when I haven’t relived those ten days. And after thirty months of invisibility and twenty months of silence, it is amazing that these memories are still afresh. Its seems like a moment ago and it seems like millenniums ago! the architecture of my heaven is made of these memories. The landscape of her smile spreads out to the horizon. Her “hello” echoes like the primal word across, from horizon to horizon. Her song runs through my veins.
I wake up everyday with her thought and go to bed thinking of her. And then there are the prayers. I go through all my motions imagining her around me. Am I schizophrenic? Aren’t all lovers? Thankfully my schizophrenia is under my control. My mind, in fact, is totally under control unlike my heart.
My heart is a habitual offender at pulling strings. Keeps on pulling the strings of my emotions. That spring in my walk, where did I get that from? It also makes me become her once a while. Like last night I was out for dinner. And I suddenly felt I was her. Every expression, every gesture, every movement I made was hers. For a while I was even lost in it. I could touch her soul wherever she was. It’s a strange out of body experience where I could see myself as her!
Normally my heart delights in doing this when I am alone. But last night, it happened in front of people. I somehow survived it with a smile. Later that night, back home, I laughed my self to sleep.
Friday, April 30, 2010
GRACE
Truth is a fairy tale. It’s has taken me some time to figure that out. Its occurred with that sudden twist that I cannot discuss here. [One is as much as one conceals as one reveals.]
The old man is definitely the best script writer ever. You can never be sure what your next moment is going to be like. “The twist” as I call it.
This twist is a bit too close for comfort. I can understand His sense of humor though it’s a bit hideous. The joke is on me and am still smiling for if that is His will then why come in His way.
It’s an incestuous world. Trust me. However much we may think otherwise, we are all blood brothers/sisters. And all of a sudden I look at my life and realize that it looks like a Manmohan Desai blockbuster. So much happening with your knowledge and so much without. The only consolation is that I know it will end well. All his films do.
I think over the past one year I have become an extremely good actor. The Director’s actor. I have left everything in His hands and am performing brilliantly. I do exactly what he dictates. Never question Him. And if I have a doubt, I ask Him. He doesn’t say much but suddenly I find my answer within that question!
So, she is alive and kicking I understand. And thankfully it’s not my butt. Four years down the lane and its seems like eons have passed. Did we last meet at The Last Supper?
I am sure she would be the only person who would understand that subtle nuance.
I am surprised that I haven’t missed her though. I believe her absence was essential for acquiring a certain wisdom. The good old Ghalibsaab[Assadullah Khan Ghalib,the Urdu poet] stated famously-“ Ye ishq nahin asaan bas itna samajh lijiye..ek aag ka dariya hai aur doob kar jaana hai.” He was right on target. Love is a fire that burns you. If it doesn’t then, trust me, it is definitely not love.
Four years after she said those words that still keeps my fire burning; I have finally learnt to love. The test was sometimes a journey through hell [ though am not that sure about what hell is like!] but today I can say with honor that I have passed it with flying colors. I have earned the privilege to love. It is definitely my greatest achievement. A pride that swells up my chest.
He smiles. He always does. And from Him I have learned to smile too. He keeps on telling me that I give Him too much credit but then as I told Him the other day who else can I give credit to. The way to bliss is through the door of acceptance. Surrender, as I have mentioned before somewhere, does not mean defeat. Sometimes it’s the victory that you are seeking all your life.
And this lesson is something she taught me. My absentee teacher.
The old man is definitely the best script writer ever. You can never be sure what your next moment is going to be like. “The twist” as I call it.
This twist is a bit too close for comfort. I can understand His sense of humor though it’s a bit hideous. The joke is on me and am still smiling for if that is His will then why come in His way.
It’s an incestuous world. Trust me. However much we may think otherwise, we are all blood brothers/sisters. And all of a sudden I look at my life and realize that it looks like a Manmohan Desai blockbuster. So much happening with your knowledge and so much without. The only consolation is that I know it will end well. All his films do.
I think over the past one year I have become an extremely good actor. The Director’s actor. I have left everything in His hands and am performing brilliantly. I do exactly what he dictates. Never question Him. And if I have a doubt, I ask Him. He doesn’t say much but suddenly I find my answer within that question!
So, she is alive and kicking I understand. And thankfully it’s not my butt. Four years down the lane and its seems like eons have passed. Did we last meet at The Last Supper?
I am sure she would be the only person who would understand that subtle nuance.
I am surprised that I haven’t missed her though. I believe her absence was essential for acquiring a certain wisdom. The good old Ghalibsaab[Assadullah Khan Ghalib,the Urdu poet] stated famously-“ Ye ishq nahin asaan bas itna samajh lijiye..ek aag ka dariya hai aur doob kar jaana hai.” He was right on target. Love is a fire that burns you. If it doesn’t then, trust me, it is definitely not love.
Four years after she said those words that still keeps my fire burning; I have finally learnt to love. The test was sometimes a journey through hell [ though am not that sure about what hell is like!] but today I can say with honor that I have passed it with flying colors. I have earned the privilege to love. It is definitely my greatest achievement. A pride that swells up my chest.
He smiles. He always does. And from Him I have learned to smile too. He keeps on telling me that I give Him too much credit but then as I told Him the other day who else can I give credit to. The way to bliss is through the door of acceptance. Surrender, as I have mentioned before somewhere, does not mean defeat. Sometimes it’s the victory that you are seeking all your life.
And this lesson is something she taught me. My absentee teacher.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
LOVE
My friends hate her. And they get more agitated when I defend her. “She betrayed you.” “ She played with your feelings.” “ She cannot be trusted.” Their perception of her is of someone who is my enemy number 1.
I defend her all the time. Sometimes it even makes me wonder why? Everything that my friends say did happen. Then why am I so protective of her? If I let my head rule my heart, will I see her like my friends do?
So one day I put her in the witness box and let my head prosecute her. And every time I did that my heart would come up with a brilliant defense. After a while I simply ended this futile exercise. I understood there was no way my head could win over my heart.
I remember one of my friends asking me a few days later-“ What were you thinking Rajiv when you fell in love with her?”. My answer surprised me too.
“ I wasn’t thinking at all.” –I said.
We continued drinking but my mind was busy trying to find the source of this answer. In the last three years most of my conversation about her has happened within me. For after a point my friends understood that she was not a topic to be discussed with me.
“ It’s a waste of energy, waste of time, too many words…” – They said.
The answer to my answer came to me many days later. It was simple. And I felt a tear smiling in my eyes.
“ She is my purest expression of love.” I gave words to my thought. “ As pure as I was before my umbilical cord was cut off.”
I found myself smiling in a mall. My uncle wanted to see the new house I had bought and I was waiting for him there.
“ She doesn’t even remember you.” – A friend had said to me a couple of days earlier.
“ Love and memory are two different things.” – I had replied.
And frankly it doesn’t bother me if she remembers me at all. After all she is human and not my PC!
I defend her all the time. Sometimes it even makes me wonder why? Everything that my friends say did happen. Then why am I so protective of her? If I let my head rule my heart, will I see her like my friends do?
So one day I put her in the witness box and let my head prosecute her. And every time I did that my heart would come up with a brilliant defense. After a while I simply ended this futile exercise. I understood there was no way my head could win over my heart.
I remember one of my friends asking me a few days later-“ What were you thinking Rajiv when you fell in love with her?”. My answer surprised me too.
“ I wasn’t thinking at all.” –I said.
We continued drinking but my mind was busy trying to find the source of this answer. In the last three years most of my conversation about her has happened within me. For after a point my friends understood that she was not a topic to be discussed with me.
“ It’s a waste of energy, waste of time, too many words…” – They said.
The answer to my answer came to me many days later. It was simple. And I felt a tear smiling in my eyes.
“ She is my purest expression of love.” I gave words to my thought. “ As pure as I was before my umbilical cord was cut off.”
I found myself smiling in a mall. My uncle wanted to see the new house I had bought and I was waiting for him there.
“ She doesn’t even remember you.” – A friend had said to me a couple of days earlier.
“ Love and memory are two different things.” – I had replied.
And frankly it doesn’t bother me if she remembers me at all. After all she is human and not my PC!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Mother [incomplete]
I was born out of my mother’s tear
Not out of her womb
Born into a waiting ward
Where everyone awaits a train
That will take them back home.
My grandmother watched my mother’s labor pains
And rejoiced!
She was obstinate that I should be born in that very house
Maybe I might have been freed within her womb
But for the intervention of an elder sister of my mother.
I was born in a hospital.
The doctor who brought me into this world too was pregnant.
She gave birth to a daughter a week later.
I know what happened to her.
For I know what happened to me.
I know what happened to my mother.
I know what happened to us.
I know nothing happened.
And yet…
She brought me into this world and meted out what her mother had meted out to her.
We are all abettors of death. Each other’s deaths.
We rejoice at birth knowing that here is one more that has to live in this world.
We rejoice at the tribulations to be faced.
We rejoice at all the desires that will swallow him.
We rejoice –“ Ok, so we are not alone in this misery!!”
What does a child know?
Memory is yet to be installed.
There is always one foolish sperm that gets left behind.
A sperm that is born into an illusory world.
A sperm that believes there is more light in that outside world than inside.
We are all but nothing more than an overgrown sperm who believes that there is a bigger universe out there.
What is naked to the eye is the veil that shrouds the truth.
I was reared in the womb of melancholy.
I reared myself in a world of melancholy.
All that is beautiful in me is my pain.
My pain is my strength.
I accept all the gifts of sorrow with grace and gratitude
For what am I minus my pain?
All my happiness come from it
For I have accepted God as “Sorrow”.
The sorrow from which we all run from
The sorrow we want to avoid at all cost
The sorrow we turn a blind eye to
That sorrow is Him.
For He knows it’s the last thing we will ever want in our lives.
There is no Holy Grail but the tears of one’s own soul.
He who has the courage to drink it is welcome to God’s Kingdom.
The true prayer is the music in your breath
The only word is the silence between one’s heartbeat
You are the mother of your parents
Like you would be the son of your own child.
I was born in the womb of my daughter.
I was born from the sperm of my son.
I was born before my death
I was dead before I was born.
I was born before my birth
Like I was dead before my death
I was alive in my death
Like I was dead when I was alive.
What is a lifetime if not the interval between two breaths?
And if there is a God then we are all immortals.
Not out of her womb
Born into a waiting ward
Where everyone awaits a train
That will take them back home.
My grandmother watched my mother’s labor pains
And rejoiced!
She was obstinate that I should be born in that very house
Maybe I might have been freed within her womb
But for the intervention of an elder sister of my mother.
I was born in a hospital.
The doctor who brought me into this world too was pregnant.
She gave birth to a daughter a week later.
I know what happened to her.
For I know what happened to me.
I know what happened to my mother.
I know what happened to us.
I know nothing happened.
And yet…
She brought me into this world and meted out what her mother had meted out to her.
We are all abettors of death. Each other’s deaths.
We rejoice at birth knowing that here is one more that has to live in this world.
We rejoice at the tribulations to be faced.
We rejoice at all the desires that will swallow him.
We rejoice –“ Ok, so we are not alone in this misery!!”
What does a child know?
Memory is yet to be installed.
There is always one foolish sperm that gets left behind.
A sperm that is born into an illusory world.
A sperm that believes there is more light in that outside world than inside.
We are all but nothing more than an overgrown sperm who believes that there is a bigger universe out there.
What is naked to the eye is the veil that shrouds the truth.
I was reared in the womb of melancholy.
I reared myself in a world of melancholy.
All that is beautiful in me is my pain.
My pain is my strength.
I accept all the gifts of sorrow with grace and gratitude
For what am I minus my pain?
All my happiness come from it
For I have accepted God as “Sorrow”.
The sorrow from which we all run from
The sorrow we want to avoid at all cost
The sorrow we turn a blind eye to
That sorrow is Him.
For He knows it’s the last thing we will ever want in our lives.
There is no Holy Grail but the tears of one’s own soul.
He who has the courage to drink it is welcome to God’s Kingdom.
The true prayer is the music in your breath
The only word is the silence between one’s heartbeat
You are the mother of your parents
Like you would be the son of your own child.
I was born in the womb of my daughter.
I was born from the sperm of my son.
I was born before my death
I was dead before I was born.
I was born before my birth
Like I was dead before my death
I was alive in my death
Like I was dead when I was alive.
What is a lifetime if not the interval between two breaths?
And if there is a God then we are all immortals.
Friday, March 12, 2010
12th March-one liners
1- children are god's true angels.growing up is "clipping the wings".
2- i ve moved on & yet find myself within her realm.love's a merry-go-round!she returns once you move on.she departs when you are ashore :-)
3- growing older simply means gathering more memories.when there is more to look back than to look forward to.
4- twinkle twinkle little star...how i wonder where you are??? i look up at the silent sky and heave a deep soulful sigh!!!
5- reconnecting with my childhood.again.that's the only way i can keep my sanity in this adult world.
2- i ve moved on & yet find myself within her realm.love's a merry-go-round!she returns once you move on.she departs when you are ashore :-)
3- growing older simply means gathering more memories.when there is more to look back than to look forward to.
4- twinkle twinkle little star...how i wonder where you are??? i look up at the silent sky and heave a deep soulful sigh!!!
5- reconnecting with my childhood.again.that's the only way i can keep my sanity in this adult world.
Monday, March 8, 2010
A Birthday Present on Woman's Day
A Birthday Present-Sylvia Plath
What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is what I want.
When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking, I feel it thinking
'Is this the one I am too appear for,
Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits and a scar?
Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules.
Is this the one for the annunciation?
My god, what a laugh!'
But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me.
I would not mind if it were bones, or a pearl button.
I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.
I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,
The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!
It must be a tusk there, a ghost column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.
Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed--I do not mind if it is small.
Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
Let us sit down to it, one on either side, admiring the gleam,
The glaze, the mirrory variety of it.
Let us eat our last supper at it, like a hospital plate.
I know why you will not give it to me,
You are terrified
The world will go up in a shriek, and your head with it,
Bossed, brazen, an antique shield,
A marvel to your great-grandchildren.
Do not be afraid, it is not so.
I will only take it and go aside quietly.
You will not even hear me opening it, no paper crackle,
No falling ribbons, no scream at the end.
I do not think you credit me with this discretion.
If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.
But my god, the clouds are like cotton.
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide.
Sweetly, sweetly I breathe in,
Filling my veins with invisibles, with the million
Probable motes that tick the years off my life.
You are silver-suited for the occasion. O adding machine-----
Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece purple,
Must you kill what you can?
There is one thing I want today, and only you can give it to me.
It stands at my window, big as the sky.
It breathes from my sheets, the cold dead center
Where split lives congeal and stiffen to history.
Let it not come by the mail, finger by finger.
Let it not come by word of mouth, I should be sixty
By the time the whole of it was delivered, and to numb to use it.
Only let down the veil, the veil, the veil.
If it were death
I would admire the deep gravity of it, its timeless eyes.
I would know you were serious.
There would be a nobility then, there would be a birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.
What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is what I want.
When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking, I feel it thinking
'Is this the one I am too appear for,
Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits and a scar?
Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules.
Is this the one for the annunciation?
My god, what a laugh!'
But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me.
I would not mind if it were bones, or a pearl button.
I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.
I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,
The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!
It must be a tusk there, a ghost column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.
Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed--I do not mind if it is small.
Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
Let us sit down to it, one on either side, admiring the gleam,
The glaze, the mirrory variety of it.
Let us eat our last supper at it, like a hospital plate.
I know why you will not give it to me,
You are terrified
The world will go up in a shriek, and your head with it,
Bossed, brazen, an antique shield,
A marvel to your great-grandchildren.
Do not be afraid, it is not so.
I will only take it and go aside quietly.
You will not even hear me opening it, no paper crackle,
No falling ribbons, no scream at the end.
I do not think you credit me with this discretion.
If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.
But my god, the clouds are like cotton.
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide.
Sweetly, sweetly I breathe in,
Filling my veins with invisibles, with the million
Probable motes that tick the years off my life.
You are silver-suited for the occasion. O adding machine-----
Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece purple,
Must you kill what you can?
There is one thing I want today, and only you can give it to me.
It stands at my window, big as the sky.
It breathes from my sheets, the cold dead center
Where split lives congeal and stiffen to history.
Let it not come by the mail, finger by finger.
Let it not come by word of mouth, I should be sixty
By the time the whole of it was delivered, and to numb to use it.
Only let down the veil, the veil, the veil.
If it were death
I would admire the deep gravity of it, its timeless eyes.
I would know you were serious.
There would be a nobility then, there would be a birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Tagore & I
Finally found the lyrics to the first ever rabindrageet i learned. yesterday. some guy called Chatterji[i don't remember his first name] taught me the song in his out of tune voice. he was just a guy in my class, not a friend. or maybe he was. in retrospect everyone seems to have been one. in one way or the other.
there was this bong girl in my college i was infatuated with.and it was to "patao"[woo] this girl that i decided to learn a bangla song. the best way to get to a woman's heart, i had learned by then, was through her ears!!
well, i did accomplish what i set out for. and today she is married with three kids & settled. her husband i hear is a naval officer.
am still single. but thanks to her i fell in love with rabindra sangeet.
and here is the lyrics of the song i have never heard but in my own voice.
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
tai diye mone mone...
rochimomo falguni
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
kichu polasher nesha
kichu ba chapai mesha
tai diye shure shure
ronge rashi jaal buni
rochimomo falguni...
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
jetuku kachete ashi khoniker fake fake
chokito moner kone shoponer chobi ake
jetuku jaire dure bhabna kapai shure
tai niye jai bela nupurero taal buni
rochimomo falguni...
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
tai diye mone mone rochimomo falguni
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
In love I learn.
there was this bong girl in my college i was infatuated with.and it was to "patao"[woo] this girl that i decided to learn a bangla song. the best way to get to a woman's heart, i had learned by then, was through her ears!!
well, i did accomplish what i set out for. and today she is married with three kids & settled. her husband i hear is a naval officer.
am still single. but thanks to her i fell in love with rabindra sangeet.
and here is the lyrics of the song i have never heard but in my own voice.
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
tai diye mone mone...
rochimomo falguni
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
kichu polasher nesha
kichu ba chapai mesha
tai diye shure shure
ronge rashi jaal buni
rochimomo falguni...
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
jetuku kachete ashi khoniker fake fake
chokito moner kone shoponer chobi ake
jetuku jaire dure bhabna kapai shure
tai niye jai bela nupurero taal buni
rochimomo falguni...
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
tai diye mone mone rochimomo falguni
ektuku chowa lage
ektuku kotha shuni
In love I learn.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
4th October text on mobile
Is that the rain gods r having a blast on her bday or is this the echo of my yearning heart?
A mere whisper of her name can fill up an ocean of sound.
Her memory shines brighter than the brightest star!
Tonight either my loneliness will kill me
Or I will die of happiness
A mere whisper of her name can fill up an ocean of sound.
Her memory shines brighter than the brightest star!
Tonight either my loneliness will kill me
Or I will die of happiness
More Thoughts
Thank God for my insanity or else I would have been a dead man by now!
Thank God for the betrayals for I learned to love through them!
Thank God I understand His mother tongue
A silence that resonates with in the length of every breath!
And thank God that we all die to be born again
Thank God for my forgetfulness so all that my soul remembers is Him!
Thank God for making me live in hell so that I learn to value my inherent goodness!
Thank God for the betrayals for I learned to love through them!
Thank God I understand His mother tongue
A silence that resonates with in the length of every breath!
And thank God that we all die to be born again
Thank God for my forgetfulness so all that my soul remembers is Him!
Thank God for making me live in hell so that I learn to value my inherent goodness!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wonders Years
Three drinks down and a lousy movie later I am about to get into a deep slumber. My cell phone rings. The time 01 41 am. An unrecognizable number. A deep voice at the other end reminds me of G, my first love. It’s the voice of an old school friend returning from a music concert. He tells me the music reminded him of me. Memories flood up my eyes and run down smiling. G. I say a silent prayer for her well being and realize how fortunate it is to love. I thank God for G. And thank Him for the music.
A good love story has no ending.
A good love story has no ending.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A FAVOR
What is there to gain? What is there to lose?
When the only way to heaven is through hell
Be warned! Whichever path you choose
Everyone have the same story to tell
We find our very own reasons to cry
When we have every reason to smile
Give yourself a chance; give yourself a try
Life is just a step not a tiring mile
We all live like a man with two women
One in the head and one in the heart
And the journey has just begun
At every bend make a fresh start
Lesser the baggage more comfort
You got to give up to enjoy
Every breath you take is a resort
So feel the road ; embrace your joy
Do this favor to yourself ; you are on your own
And be grateful to the strangers you meet on your way
For when after the dark nights you step into the dawn
You will realize that they too were made of clay.
When the only way to heaven is through hell
Be warned! Whichever path you choose
Everyone have the same story to tell
We find our very own reasons to cry
When we have every reason to smile
Give yourself a chance; give yourself a try
Life is just a step not a tiring mile
We all live like a man with two women
One in the head and one in the heart
And the journey has just begun
At every bend make a fresh start
Lesser the baggage more comfort
You got to give up to enjoy
Every breath you take is a resort
So feel the road ; embrace your joy
Do this favor to yourself ; you are on your own
And be grateful to the strangers you meet on your way
For when after the dark nights you step into the dawn
You will realize that they too were made of clay.
Valentine Musings[To S]
When are you ever away from me?
Your heartbeats touch me through the rays of the sun
And I meet you every night when I look up at the moon
I can smell your tresses as the winds sway
And feel your smile whenever I smile
When are you ever away from me?
Your heartbeats touch me through the rays of the sun
And I meet you every night when I look up at the moon
I can smell your tresses as the winds sway
And feel your smile whenever I smile
When are you ever away from me?
To S [on Valentine's day]
How do I get to u?
How can I hold myself back from going astray in the maze of tranquil memories?
Before your phantom captures my soul
& makes a home there
Show me a sign so that I can reach out to u
Do me a favor
Please give me the privilege to love u
For the moon has to reach out to the sun
Allow me too
To just reflect
In the illumination of your never ending love
Let me b your faithful shadow
Let me b that piece of burning wood that will keep u warm in your winter nights.
I ask nothing in return.
Not even a momentary gaze
Just let me be
Please let me lie around in some
Unwanted corner of your life
Like a silent forsaken dog.
I need to reach out to u to reach me.
Please help me to re discover myself.
Do me this favor.
And I promise to fall silent.
Forever.
How can I hold myself back from going astray in the maze of tranquil memories?
Before your phantom captures my soul
& makes a home there
Show me a sign so that I can reach out to u
Do me a favor
Please give me the privilege to love u
For the moon has to reach out to the sun
Allow me too
To just reflect
In the illumination of your never ending love
Let me b your faithful shadow
Let me b that piece of burning wood that will keep u warm in your winter nights.
I ask nothing in return.
Not even a momentary gaze
Just let me be
Please let me lie around in some
Unwanted corner of your life
Like a silent forsaken dog.
I need to reach out to u to reach me.
Please help me to re discover myself.
Do me this favor.
And I promise to fall silent.
Forever.
SOHNI
I sit sipping my cup of hot tea. Listening to raag “Sohni”. As I drown deeper and deeper-
She emerges like a goddess from the oceans of love.
I sit. My eyes closed.
Eyes obstruct vision. Just as words veil eloquence.
I drown deeper and deeper. At the bottom I find that the first note of music is not “sa”.
Just a “hmmm” that reverberates from the bottom of ones own soul.
She smiles. She always does. Like the sun that never sets.
Only that her smile is like a bouquet of a million smiling suns!
That reveals the universe
In all its abundance.
Somewhere between the intervals between two breaths a heartbeat of mine does an “aadaab”. Her eyes return the favor with warmth.
Our breaths meet. And burn like the eternal fire that sanctifies the profanity of desires.
Two lovers. And they love without desiring each other.
Like the two banks of a river that holds the river together.
I get up. My tea cup is empty. And slowly the song fades out.
I emerge with my eyes open and drown within me.
She emerges like a goddess from the oceans of love.
I sit. My eyes closed.
Eyes obstruct vision. Just as words veil eloquence.
I drown deeper and deeper. At the bottom I find that the first note of music is not “sa”.
Just a “hmmm” that reverberates from the bottom of ones own soul.
She smiles. She always does. Like the sun that never sets.
Only that her smile is like a bouquet of a million smiling suns!
That reveals the universe
In all its abundance.
Somewhere between the intervals between two breaths a heartbeat of mine does an “aadaab”. Her eyes return the favor with warmth.
Our breaths meet. And burn like the eternal fire that sanctifies the profanity of desires.
Two lovers. And they love without desiring each other.
Like the two banks of a river that holds the river together.
I get up. My tea cup is empty. And slowly the song fades out.
I emerge with my eyes open and drown within me.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
a taste of french poetry at its best
The Landscape-ROBERT DESNOS
I have dreamt of loving. I go on loving but love
Is no longer that bouquet of lilacs and roses
Imbuing with their fragrances the forest
Where a flame lies at rest at the end of undeviating pathways.
I have dreamt of loving. I go on loving but love
Is no longer that storm whose lightening lays
Its funeral pyres on castles, disorientates, distorts,
Illumine as it vanishes the parting of the ways.
It is the spark of flint beneath my footsteps in the night,
The word no dictionary in the world has translated,
The foam on the sea, that cloud in the sky.
In growing old all things become rigid and luminous,
Boulevards without names and ropes without knots.
I feel myself stiffening with the landscape.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD [a excerpt from his poem "Farewell"]
Sometimes I see in the sky beaches without end covered with white nations of joyfulness. Above me a great golden vessel waves its multi colored pennants in the morning breezes.
I created all festivals, all triumphs, all dramas. I tried to invent new flowers, new stars, new flesh, new tongues. I thought I was acquiring supernatural powers. Well! I must bury my imagination and my memories. An artist and storyteller’s fine fame swept away!
I! I who called myself mage or angel, exempt from all morality, I am returned to the earth, with a task to discover, and wrinkled reality to embrace! Peasant!
Am I deceived? Could charity be, for me, the sister of death?
To round things off, I shall ask pardon for having fed on lies. And let’s go.
I have dreamt of loving. I go on loving but love
Is no longer that bouquet of lilacs and roses
Imbuing with their fragrances the forest
Where a flame lies at rest at the end of undeviating pathways.
I have dreamt of loving. I go on loving but love
Is no longer that storm whose lightening lays
Its funeral pyres on castles, disorientates, distorts,
Illumine as it vanishes the parting of the ways.
It is the spark of flint beneath my footsteps in the night,
The word no dictionary in the world has translated,
The foam on the sea, that cloud in the sky.
In growing old all things become rigid and luminous,
Boulevards without names and ropes without knots.
I feel myself stiffening with the landscape.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD [a excerpt from his poem "Farewell"]
Sometimes I see in the sky beaches without end covered with white nations of joyfulness. Above me a great golden vessel waves its multi colored pennants in the morning breezes.
I created all festivals, all triumphs, all dramas. I tried to invent new flowers, new stars, new flesh, new tongues. I thought I was acquiring supernatural powers. Well! I must bury my imagination and my memories. An artist and storyteller’s fine fame swept away!
I! I who called myself mage or angel, exempt from all morality, I am returned to the earth, with a task to discover, and wrinkled reality to embrace! Peasant!
Am I deceived? Could charity be, for me, the sister of death?
To round things off, I shall ask pardon for having fed on lies. And let’s go.
Quintessential Night
Schubert plagiarizes Beethoven
And creates an original masterpiece-
Serenading the moon
Hemingway reads Faulkner
Over a bottle of whiskey
Bespectacled
Headlights flicker over jammed flyovers
Leading to nowhere
Horns sermonize
The silent mass of dreamers
Snoring
horses running in a derby around the moon
Floating like a paper boat
Christ kneels and touches the heavens!
For the resurrection of mankind
As dawn breaks there will be billions carrying the Cross.
And creates an original masterpiece-
Serenading the moon
Hemingway reads Faulkner
Over a bottle of whiskey
Bespectacled
Headlights flicker over jammed flyovers
Leading to nowhere
Horns sermonize
The silent mass of dreamers
Snoring
horses running in a derby around the moon
Floating like a paper boat
Christ kneels and touches the heavens!
For the resurrection of mankind
As dawn breaks there will be billions carrying the Cross.
The pane of dreams
I sit with my eyes against the pane of dreams
Observing your invisibility in the shadows of the dark night
Illuminating your absence like the hot summer sun
That I see you at ten fingers breadth back from the heart.
I seek you beyond myself.
I live not by the breath that flows in and flows out.
I live as a reflection of my own memory of you.
I seek you beyond the Self.
Observing your invisibility in the shadows of the dark night
Illuminating your absence like the hot summer sun
That I see you at ten fingers breadth back from the heart.
I seek you beyond myself.
I live not by the breath that flows in and flows out.
I live as a reflection of my own memory of you.
I seek you beyond the Self.
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