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.
Monday, June 21, 2010
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)