Me
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
Rememberance day-2 min silence
All locomotion should cease, so that, in perfect stillness, the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
William Faulkner
The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist�s way of scribbling �Kilroy was here� on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Wim wnders
A few moments ago,
someone probably stood on the yellow step
in front of that door,
smoked a cigarette,
flipped the butt into the hot street
and went back to work inside.
Behind the wall and its promise
of a safe way,
it was certainly nice and cool.
----Wim Wenders (Director of Paris, Texas and Wings of desire)
When the child was a child
Song of Childhood
By Peter Handke
When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.
When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.
By Peter Handke
When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.
When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Path
Path
A monk asked his Master, “After this training I have two paths to choose. Which one shall I choose?” The Master replied “If you had no path what will you choose?”
A monk asked his Master, “After this training I have two paths to choose. Which one shall I choose?” The Master replied “If you had no path what will you choose?”
Monday, October 10, 2005
Moon in the water
Moon in the water
When the nun Chiyono studied Zen under Bukko of Engaku she was unable to attain the fruits of meditation for a long time.
At last one moonlit night she was carrying water in an old pail bound with bamboo. The bamboo broke and the bottom fell out of the pail, and at that moment Chiyono was set free!
In commemoration, she wrote a poem:
In this way and that I tried to save the old pailSince the bamboo strip was weakening and about to breakUntil at last the bottom fell out.No more water in the pail!No more moon in the water!
When the nun Chiyono studied Zen under Bukko of Engaku she was unable to attain the fruits of meditation for a long time.
At last one moonlit night she was carrying water in an old pail bound with bamboo. The bamboo broke and the bottom fell out of the pail, and at that moment Chiyono was set free!
In commemoration, she wrote a poem:
In this way and that I tried to save the old pailSince the bamboo strip was weakening and about to breakUntil at last the bottom fell out.No more water in the pail!No more moon in the water!
Manjusri at the gate
Manjusri at the gate
One day as Manjusri stood outside the gate, the Buddha called to him, "Manjusri, Manjusri, why do you not enter?" Manjusri replied, "I do not see myself as outside. Why enter?"
One day as Manjusri stood outside the gate, the Buddha called to him, "Manjusri, Manjusri, why do you not enter?" Manjusri replied, "I do not see myself as outside. Why enter?"
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Tasting the world
Eyes
BlinkOpenBlinkOpen
And the world goes...
BlackFacesBlackPlaces
Ears
CalmpOpenClampOpen
And the world goes...
SilenceVoicesSilenceNoises
Nose
CloseOpenCloseOpen
And the world goes...
BreathlessSavourBreathlessFlavor
Tongue
LickCloseLickClose
And the world goes...
BitterBlandSweeterBland
Body
JumpFallJumpFall
And the world goes...
HighLowHighSlow
BlinkOpenBlinkOpen
And the world goes...
BlackFacesBlackPlaces
Ears
CalmpOpenClampOpen
And the world goes...
SilenceVoicesSilenceNoises
Nose
CloseOpenCloseOpen
And the world goes...
BreathlessSavourBreathlessFlavor
Tongue
LickCloseLickClose
And the world goes...
BitterBlandSweeterBland
Body
JumpFallJumpFall
And the world goes...
HighLowHighSlow
Frank Sinatra-----Something Stupid
I know I stand in line, until you think you have the time
To spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there’s a chance
You won’t be leaving with me
And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: "i love you"
I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies
You heard the night before
And though it’s just a line to you, for me it’s true
It never seemed so right before
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come through
But then I think I’ll wait until the evening gets late
And I’m alone with you
The time is right your perfume fills my head, the stars get red
And oh the night’s so blue
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: "i love you"
("i love you, I love you,...")
To spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there’s a chance
You won’t be leaving with me
And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: "i love you"
I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies
You heard the night before
And though it’s just a line to you, for me it’s true
It never seemed so right before
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come through
But then I think I’ll wait until the evening gets late
And I’m alone with you
The time is right your perfume fills my head, the stars get red
And oh the night’s so blue
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: "i love you"
("i love you, I love you,...")
Friday, October 07, 2005
Castaway
Castaway
It was an island with a beautiful landscape
On which subsisted a castaway lonely
Trees, birds and water were his company only
He waited day and night for an escape
He learnt to swim and readied a boat
Gathered food and water for the set off
Planned to push the boat at the wave’s trough
But the beauty of the island let him not
“Escape to the meddlesome civilization?”
The idea doesn’t seemed to be right
“Why not settle here and live a life bright?”
But his loneliness needed compensation
So, he travelled for many days till he reached the shore
He kidnapped a mother and her daughter
Fetched them to his place surrounded by water
On their arrival a monkey welcomed them ashore
A man, a woman, a girl and a monkey
Were the only inhabitants of the lonely land
From day one the mother had the escape planned
She knew, for their escape, the monkey is the key
The woman and the girl got the monkey trained
They taught the monkey all the trickery
And threw the monkey on the castaway named Hickory
Sure was he irritated and got the monkey chained
In the dark of the night the monkey ate some grapes
And in the silence of the night it meditated
In less than few moments the agitated
Army of apes arrived from the planet of the apes
The castaway was taken in their space ship
He was thrown back in to a crowded city
No body believed his story. Oh, what a pity
That is the story of a castaway and his trip.
It was an island with a beautiful landscape
On which subsisted a castaway lonely
Trees, birds and water were his company only
He waited day and night for an escape
He learnt to swim and readied a boat
Gathered food and water for the set off
Planned to push the boat at the wave’s trough
But the beauty of the island let him not
“Escape to the meddlesome civilization?”
The idea doesn’t seemed to be right
“Why not settle here and live a life bright?”
But his loneliness needed compensation
So, he travelled for many days till he reached the shore
He kidnapped a mother and her daughter
Fetched them to his place surrounded by water
On their arrival a monkey welcomed them ashore
A man, a woman, a girl and a monkey
Were the only inhabitants of the lonely land
From day one the mother had the escape planned
She knew, for their escape, the monkey is the key
The woman and the girl got the monkey trained
They taught the monkey all the trickery
And threw the monkey on the castaway named Hickory
Sure was he irritated and got the monkey chained
In the dark of the night the monkey ate some grapes
And in the silence of the night it meditated
In less than few moments the agitated
Army of apes arrived from the planet of the apes
The castaway was taken in their space ship
He was thrown back in to a crowded city
No body believed his story. Oh, what a pity
That is the story of a castaway and his trip.
He,She and God
He said,
“I am stupid. Am I?”
She said,
“I could paint the skies with it,instead I whisper, Love you as you are.”
God said,
“My child, she was your mother eighteen lifetimes ago.”
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Hand in Hand
You and me
Hand in hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
You and me
Hand in Hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
Me and You
Hand in hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
Me and You
Hand in Hand
Hand in hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
You and me
Hand in Hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
Me and You
Hand in hand
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
YouMeYouMeYouMeYouMe
Me and You
Hand in Hand
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Saturday, October 01, 2005
The Dream
Kalugin fell asleep and had a dream that he was sitting in some bushes and a policeman was walking past the bushes.
Kalugin woke up, scratched his mouth and went to sleep again and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and that a policeman had hidden in the bushes and was sitting there.
Kalugin woke up, put a newspaper under his head, so as not to wet the pillow with his dribblings, and went to sleep again; and again he had a dream that he was sitting in some bushes and a policeman was walking past the bushes.
Kalugin woke up, changed the newspaper, lay down and went to sleep again. He fell asleep and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and a policeman was sitting in the bushes.
At this point Kalugin woke up and decided not to sleep any more, but he immediately fell asleep and had a dream that he was sitting behind a policeman and some bushes were walking past.
Kalugin let out a yell and tossed around in his bed but couldn't wake up.
Kalugin slept straight through for four days and four nights and on the fifth day he awoke so emaciated that he had to tie his boots to his feet with string, so that they didn't fall off. In the bakery where Kalugin always bought wheaten bread, they didn't recognize him and handed him a half-rye loaf.
And a sanitary commission, which was going round the apartments, on catching sight of Kalugin, decided that he was unsanitary and no use for anything and instructed the janitors to throw Kalugin out with the rubbish.
Kalugin was folded in two and thrown out as rubbish.
-------Daniil Kharms
Kalugin woke up, scratched his mouth and went to sleep again and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and that a policeman had hidden in the bushes and was sitting there.
Kalugin woke up, put a newspaper under his head, so as not to wet the pillow with his dribblings, and went to sleep again; and again he had a dream that he was sitting in some bushes and a policeman was walking past the bushes.
Kalugin woke up, changed the newspaper, lay down and went to sleep again. He fell asleep and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and a policeman was sitting in the bushes.
At this point Kalugin woke up and decided not to sleep any more, but he immediately fell asleep and had a dream that he was sitting behind a policeman and some bushes were walking past.
Kalugin let out a yell and tossed around in his bed but couldn't wake up.
Kalugin slept straight through for four days and four nights and on the fifth day he awoke so emaciated that he had to tie his boots to his feet with string, so that they didn't fall off. In the bakery where Kalugin always bought wheaten bread, they didn't recognize him and handed him a half-rye loaf.
And a sanitary commission, which was going round the apartments, on catching sight of Kalugin, decided that he was unsanitary and no use for anything and instructed the janitors to throw Kalugin out with the rubbish.
Kalugin was folded in two and thrown out as rubbish.
-------Daniil Kharms
Friday, September 30, 2005
Syzygy
I notice headlights out the living room window
then catch the bass in a pickup as it drives by.
I am shocked to learn that doctors collected
the urine of menopausal nuns in Italy to extract
gonadotropins. And is that what one draws,
in infinitesimal dose, out of a vial?
I remember a steel wool splinter in my finger
and how difficult it was to discern, extract
under a magnifying glass; yet—blue mold,
apple dropping from branch—it is hard to see
up close when, at the periphery, the unexpected
easily catches the eye. Last Thursday night,
we looked through binoculars at the full moon,
watched it darken and darken until, eclipsed,
it glowed ferrous-red. By firelight, we glowed;
my fingertips flared when I rubbed your shoulders,
softly bit your ear. The mind is a tuning fork
that we strike, and, struck, in the syzygy
of a moment, we find the skewed, tangled
passions of a day begin to straighten, align, hum.
------ Arthur Sze
then catch the bass in a pickup as it drives by.
I am shocked to learn that doctors collected
the urine of menopausal nuns in Italy to extract
gonadotropins. And is that what one draws,
in infinitesimal dose, out of a vial?
I remember a steel wool splinter in my finger
and how difficult it was to discern, extract
under a magnifying glass; yet—blue mold,
apple dropping from branch—it is hard to see
up close when, at the periphery, the unexpected
easily catches the eye. Last Thursday night,
we looked through binoculars at the full moon,
watched it darken and darken until, eclipsed,
it glowed ferrous-red. By firelight, we glowed;
my fingertips flared when I rubbed your shoulders,
softly bit your ear. The mind is a tuning fork
that we strike, and, struck, in the syzygy
of a moment, we find the skewed, tangled
passions of a day begin to straighten, align, hum.
------ Arthur Sze
Cops and Robbers –S .Diwakar
Always
some are policemen,
others thieves.
Thieves steal the moon and hide it.
Policemen hunt for the thieves and hunt for the moon;
they catch the thieves and nail
the moon back into the sky
Thieves steal the heart of a girl.
Policemen hunt for the thieves and hunt for the heart;
they catch the thieves and take
the heart to the girl.
"I don’t need that heart," cries the girl.
But the policemen shove it down her throat,
they tell her it’s their duty.
Thieves steal the sparks from the waves
and hide them in their hearts.
Policemen hunt for the thieves and hunt for the sparks;
they catch the thieves and pour
the sparks back into the waves.
When the sparks fade, the policemen say,
"What can we do? We have done our duty."
Thieves steal whatever they can lay their hands on:
dry leaves, threads of a rainbow,
pieces of smiles, whispers of seasons,
footprints on water…
Yes, they steal whatever they can lay their hands on.
Policemen always chase the thieves.
Sometimes they catch them, sometimes they don’t.
When they don’t catch the thieves,
they sit and polish their boots,
they nail up posters everywhere
that declare, ‘Theft is evil’.
Yet, policemen cannot understand
that whatever the thieves steal
will grow back,
and whatever they snatch from the thieves
will not fit in their places.
Whoever hears of this will immediately become a thief
as some tired thieves
become policemen.
Always
some are policemen,
some are thieves.
Translated from the Kannada by Christopher Merrill
S. Diwakar is an award-winning Kannada poet and fiction writer. He lives in Madras
(Coutesy: Litlemag.com)
Love Story
On his first train journey in London he falls in love with a beautiful girl with black hair and blue eyes. While he is lost in his thoughts about the nationality of the girl and the ways to approach a new girl in a new place, the love story comes to a jerky ending when the girl gets down at a station called Euston. He continues his journey thinking how stupid his thoughts were. On his arrival at the destination he meets his friends. The friends treat him with good Indian food; discuss mundane things. Later in the evening when he is returning to his place he takes a train in which he occupies the same seat that he took in the morning. He even wonders if it was the same train and same compartment that he travelled in the morning. As the train moves in the underground piercing the darkness, a flash of bright light wakes him up to reality. The reality is the Euston station with large flashy advertising banners and loud music from a street Guitarist. While the doors of the train open to commuters to exit and enter, his small eyes widen with a great expectation. Through the rush of passengers entering and exiting the train he moves hither thither expecting a miracle.
And it was a miracle.The girl from the morning train, with the same black hair and blue eyes is back in the same train, same compartment. Strangely she sits at the same seat which she occupied in the morning. He is once again lost in his thoughts about the nationality of the girl and the ways to approach a new girl in a new place. More than anything he is excited about this coincidence, but only for a short while. As the train reaches Maidenhead, the place where he lives, he exits from the train with a heavy heart and the love story comes to a jerky ending twice in a single day.
One day. One train. One girl. One heart but twice broken. As he walks out of the railway station he walks towards his flat thinking how stupid he was.
And it was a miracle.The girl from the morning train, with the same black hair and blue eyes is back in the same train, same compartment. Strangely she sits at the same seat which she occupied in the morning. He is once again lost in his thoughts about the nationality of the girl and the ways to approach a new girl in a new place. More than anything he is excited about this coincidence, but only for a short while. As the train reaches Maidenhead, the place where he lives, he exits from the train with a heavy heart and the love story comes to a jerky ending twice in a single day.
One day. One train. One girl. One heart but twice broken. As he walks out of the railway station he walks towards his flat thinking how stupid he was.
Life
Life was a collapsed illusion
He was a witness to the disorder
Life was a war with the soul
He was a defeated soldier
Life was an unmeaning sentence
He was a person ordering words around
Life was a street with out light
He was a dark shadow in the dark
Life was a sad truth
He was an ambiguous lie
Life was a demanding logic
He was an illogical bedlamite
Life was a journey to where the end begins
He was a lonely traveller; a dead man walking
Life was a Walk through the oblivion
He was a nobody who disappeared into a poem
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Confessions of a dangerous mind
"We confess our little faults to persuade people that we have no large ones."
- Francois de La Rochefoucauld
- Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Reasonable....
…the chance of a man's finding his own Vindication, or some perfidious version of his own, can be calculated to be zero.
—Jorge Luis Borges, “The Library of Babel”
—Jorge Luis Borges, “The Library of Babel”
Monday, September 26, 2005
.....
It is nobler to declare oneself wrong than to insist on being right - especially when one is right.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Whenever you find that you are on the side of the majority, it is time to reform.
- Mark Twain
Monday, September 12, 2005
Sri Sri's Adwaita
If happiness was ocean deep
If affection were skies steep
Walk the boundaries of affection we will
Swim the depths of happiness we will.
In the twinkling sounds of your fallal
In the absolute bliss of my life’s all
Multicoloured palanquins were your thoughts
Flaring fire pot was my heart of hearts
If your wishes were flowers blossoming,
If my desires were daggers on the wing
Bestow newfangled life to death we shall,
Erect ladders from earth to heaven we shall
If you were the queen of the throne
If I were the slave of habituation
My blazing agony and anguish
Your blossoming joy and bliss
Radiate akin to reeks of poison bitter
Dribble alike to drops of sweet nectar,
Scoff and mock at humanity we will,
Conquer and rule the futurity we will
If you were the spring breeze anew,
If I were the winter’s drop of dew
The bird of your life soaring
My death’s resonance roaring
In the gardens of trees spread,
In the resting places of dead
Stirring in interweaving spheres
Hollering in blazing fears
Shackle time in chains we will
Unshackle love from chains we will.
I be the pink of your lips bright
You be my future’s goddess and light
In the twinkling sounds of your fallal
In the absolute bliss of my life’s all
If happiness was ocean deep
If affection were skies steep
Scoff and mock at humanity we shall,
Conquer and rule the futurity we shall.
Sri Sri
If affection were skies steep
Walk the boundaries of affection we will
Swim the depths of happiness we will.
In the twinkling sounds of your fallal
In the absolute bliss of my life’s all
Multicoloured palanquins were your thoughts
Flaring fire pot was my heart of hearts
If your wishes were flowers blossoming,
If my desires were daggers on the wing
Bestow newfangled life to death we shall,
Erect ladders from earth to heaven we shall
If you were the queen of the throne
If I were the slave of habituation
My blazing agony and anguish
Your blossoming joy and bliss
Radiate akin to reeks of poison bitter
Dribble alike to drops of sweet nectar,
Scoff and mock at humanity we will,
Conquer and rule the futurity we will
If you were the spring breeze anew,
If I were the winter’s drop of dew
The bird of your life soaring
My death’s resonance roaring
In the gardens of trees spread,
In the resting places of dead
Stirring in interweaving spheres
Hollering in blazing fears
Shackle time in chains we will
Unshackle love from chains we will.
I be the pink of your lips bright
You be my future’s goddess and light
In the twinkling sounds of your fallal
In the absolute bliss of my life’s all
If happiness was ocean deep
If affection were skies steep
Scoff and mock at humanity we shall,
Conquer and rule the futurity we shall.
Sri Sri
Friday, September 09, 2005
Twilight plights –Sri Sri
One Evening…
Norma Shearer at Roxie or,
Kanchana Mala at Broadway!
Where to go?
Mulled over, a university student!
At a Hotel --
Sweets of almonds or,
Cakes of Vermicelli!
What to eat?
Chewed over, a government employee!
The same evening…
Thoughts of ravening creditors,
Hungry whimpers of his children!
To hang himself to death or
To jump in to the sea to die –
Contemplated, a suicidal farmer!
Norma Shearer at Roxie or,
Kanchana Mala at Broadway!
Where to go?
Mulled over, a university student!
At a Hotel --
Sweets of almonds or,
Cakes of Vermicelli!
What to eat?
Chewed over, a government employee!
The same evening…
Thoughts of ravening creditors,
Hungry whimpers of his children!
To hang himself to death or
To jump in to the sea to die –
Contemplated, a suicidal farmer!
Aw !!Sinatra !!!
She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She loves the theater, but doesn't come late
She'd never bother, with people she'd hate
That's why the lady is a tramp
Doesn't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girls
That's why the lady is a tramp
She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
She's broke, but it's o'k
She hates California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp
Doesn't like dice games, with sharpies and frauds
Won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those broads
That's why the lady is a tramp
She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She loves the theater, but doesn't come late
She'd never bother, with people she'd hate
That's why the lady is a tramp
Doesn't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girls
That's why the lady is a tramp
She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
She's broke, but it's o'k
She hates California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp
Doesn't like dice games, with sharpies and frauds
Won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those broads
That's why the lady is a tramp
Tea and Coffee
Saturday 15:01 Hrs
Can you get some tea from that take-away?
And don't forget the cookies.
Saturday 16:01 Hrs
Do we have some water to drink?
Never mind! I will bring some from the store.
Saturday 17:01 Hrs
Should I turn on the fan?
Yeah, its very hot.
Saturday 18:01 Hrs
Don't you think that this is a serious problem?
What what? These extreme weather conditions!
Saturday 19:01 Hrs
Should I wash the cups?
I will wash the dishes even after our marriage.
Saturday 20:01 Hrs
Is the film boring?
I like it, you can go read a book if you want.
Saturday 21:01 Hrs
Oh! Are you feeling sleepy?
Then make a coffee for me, darling, and I will come to lie down next to you.
Saturday 15:01 Hrs
Can you get some tea from that take-away?
And don't forget the cookies.
Saturday 16:01 Hrs
Do we have some water to drink?
Never mind! I will bring some from the store.
Saturday 17:01 Hrs
Should I turn on the fan?
Yeah, its very hot.
Saturday 18:01 Hrs
Don't you think that this is a serious problem?
What what? These extreme weather conditions!
Saturday 19:01 Hrs
Should I wash the cups?
I will wash the dishes even after our marriage.
Saturday 20:01 Hrs
Is the film boring?
I like it, you can go read a book if you want.
Saturday 21:01 Hrs
Oh! Are you feeling sleepy?
Then make a coffee for me, darling, and I will come to lie down next to you.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real—life is earnest—
And the grave is not its goal:
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destin'd end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act—act in the glorious Present!
Heart within, and God o'er head!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time.
Footsteps, that, perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real—life is earnest—
And the grave is not its goal:
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destin'd end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act—act in the glorious Present!
Heart within, and God o'er head!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time.
Footsteps, that, perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Sri Sri
TO POESY - A RHAPSODY
Poesy O poesy
It was long long ago
It was once upon a time
I was young I was green
There was nothing to be seen
The fragrance of my hope
Clung to me like a robe
So long long ago
At once upon a time
Where were you then
Ask the far horizon
In my hope in my dream
I thought I saw your crepuscular car
How beatiful you were
How beyond my reach
Far beyond my gaze
In the days long agone
My life I loafed alone
Dedicated consecrated
To you to you to you
My life I laughed away
Seeking seeking seeking
I almost forgot
What it was sought
The intoxicated moments
Were an endless torment
And I knew not
Which was which what was what
This five-fingered magic was it you
This imitation of inspiration
This decor or rhetoric
This sylogistic illogic was it you
I knew not then
And what was your form
What sybaritic grace what wingcommanding norm
Dulcet halcyon
Eohippus celestial griffon
I knew it wasn't you
I rotted in my room
I waited in the gloom
Alive alone alone
Those days long agone
That onced upon my time
And as I chimed Drenched in the downpour of my dream
Always expectant
By my discipline putrified
By my determination petrified
With many a fiery sonata
In my medulla oblongata
Pleading Oh when Oh when
Shall the gates of creation open
As thus I waited
With my breath bated
What shouts what hetaerea what chimaerae
What parallelograms of emotions
What ultramarine exultation
What trinitrotoluene of exultation
Bursting on my head
Thud thud thud thud
How did my song come to life
What was it I had seen
Was it the midnight sky rending
The very heaven descending
In a perpetual perpendicular of rain
Blowing conch blasting drum
In the ocean's skyscraping storm
I heard that very night
In the forests intricate
Metreless but not meaningless
The noises and voices of hunger and sex
Of wild animals Leo the rex roaring
Growling tiger prowling jackal howling
And too I heard
The music of the spheres
The symphony of orchestra of the stars
The earthquake's ultimatum
Empires crumbling
Governments tumbling down
And I heard the reverberating conflagrations
Of wars and revolutions
There you are
Always everywhere
Immediate as here
Instantaneous as now
And how
Could I enumerate
All that I saw that I heard
As I thought of you
How could I construe
In so many words
All the sounds all the visions
Conjured up by my contemplation of your presence
Refulgent diamond
Flowering in a lake of fire
Ferric falcon flying
Bells of fever pealing
In the cannon's mouth of deafening choir
And more and more and more
The sights and sound galore
I saw the maternity ward the midnight birth
A young mother hugging her newborn babe
I heard her dreams describing
Honeysweet vortices in her mind
I heard the sleeping baby
Sing the singsong dingdong memories of its past
And then the vast
Magnified closeup of the patient chloroformed
In a twilight of life and death
I heard his nervestrings thrum
His blood vessels hum
And I saw the drunken bum
Immobilized in the gutter
I heard his confused shutter
Complaining to the dogs
Explaining to the stars
In incomprehensive rigmaroles
The deep sea wisdom of his inner soul
Again I heard I heard I heard again
The strained refrain of stridnet pain
Welling in the eyelids half-closed
Of the metropolitan prostitute locked in the act
Of the carnal diablerie
Trading love's counterfeit zeal
For a fee that buys her meal
I also heard
TO POESY - A RHAPSODY
Poesy O poesy
It was long long ago
It was once upon a time
I was young I was green
There was nothing to be seen
The fragrance of my hope
Clung to me like a robe
So long long ago
At once upon a time
Where were you then
Ask the far horizon
In my hope in my dream
I thought I saw your crepuscular car
How beatiful you were
How beyond my reach
Far beyond my gaze
In the days long agone
My life I loafed alone
Dedicated consecrated
To you to you to you
My life I laughed away
Seeking seeking seeking
I almost forgot
What it was sought
The intoxicated moments
Were an endless torment
And I knew not
Which was which what was what
This five-fingered magic was it you
This imitation of inspiration
This decor or rhetoric
This sylogistic illogic was it you
I knew not then
And what was your form
What sybaritic grace what wingcommanding norm
Dulcet halcyon
Eohippus celestial griffon
I knew it wasn't you
I rotted in my room
I waited in the gloom
Alive alone alone
Those days long agone
That onced upon my time
And as I chimed Drenched in the downpour of my dream
Always expectant
By my discipline putrified
By my determination petrified
With many a fiery sonata
In my medulla oblongata
Pleading Oh when Oh when
Shall the gates of creation open
As thus I waited
With my breath bated
What shouts what hetaerea what chimaerae
What parallelograms of emotions
What ultramarine exultation
What trinitrotoluene of exultation
Bursting on my head
Thud thud thud thud
How did my song come to life
What was it I had seen
Was it the midnight sky rending
The very heaven descending
In a perpetual perpendicular of rain
Blowing conch blasting drum
In the ocean's skyscraping storm
I heard that very night
In the forests intricate
Metreless but not meaningless
The noises and voices of hunger and sex
Of wild animals Leo the rex roaring
Growling tiger prowling jackal howling
And too I heard
The music of the spheres
The symphony of orchestra of the stars
The earthquake's ultimatum
Empires crumbling
Governments tumbling down
And I heard the reverberating conflagrations
Of wars and revolutions
There you are
Always everywhere
Immediate as here
Instantaneous as now
And how
Could I enumerate
All that I saw that I heard
As I thought of you
How could I construe
In so many words
All the sounds all the visions
Conjured up by my contemplation of your presence
Refulgent diamond
Flowering in a lake of fire
Ferric falcon flying
Bells of fever pealing
In the cannon's mouth of deafening choir
And more and more and more
The sights and sound galore
I saw the maternity ward the midnight birth
A young mother hugging her newborn babe
I heard her dreams describing
Honeysweet vortices in her mind
I heard the sleeping baby
Sing the singsong dingdong memories of its past
And then the vast
Magnified closeup of the patient chloroformed
In a twilight of life and death
I heard his nervestrings thrum
His blood vessels hum
And I saw the drunken bum
Immobilized in the gutter
I heard his confused shutter
Complaining to the dogs
Explaining to the stars
In incomprehensive rigmaroles
The deep sea wisdom of his inner soul
Again I heard I heard I heard again
The strained refrain of stridnet pain
Welling in the eyelids half-closed
Of the metropolitan prostitute locked in the act
Of the carnal diablerie
Trading love's counterfeit zeal
For a fee that buys her meal
I also heard
Intelligent Design.
What is your say?
Intelligent Design (or ID) is the controversial assertion that certain features of the universe and of living things exhibit the characteristics of a product resulting from an intelligent cause or agent. Though publicly most ID advocates state that their focus is on detecting evidence of design in nature, without regard to who or what the designer might be, in statements to their constituents and supporters nearly all state explicitly that they believe the designer to be the Christian God.Adherents of ID claim it stands on equal footing with the current scientific theories regarding the origin of life and the origin of the universe. This claim has not been accepted by the mainstream scientific community who argue that intelligent design does not constitute a research program within the science of biology. Despite ID sometimes being refered to popularly and in the media as Intelligent Design Theory, it is not recognized as a scientific theory and has been categorized by skeptics as creationist pseudoscience. The National Academy of Sciences has said that Intelligent Design "and other claims of supernatural intervention in the origin of life" are not science because their claims cannot be tested by experiment and propose no new hypotheses of their own. Critics argue that ID proponents find gaps within current evolutionary theory and fill them in with speculative beliefs, and that ID in this context may ultimately amount to the "God of the gaps".Both the Intelligent Design concept and the associated movement have come under considerable criticism.This criticism is regarded by advocates of ID as a natural consequence of methodological naturalism which precludes by definition the possibility of supernatural causes as rational scientific explanations. As has been argued before in the context of the creation-evolution controversy, proponents of ID make the claim that there is a systemic bias within the scientific community against proponents' ideas and research based on the assumption of methodological naturalism that science can only make reference to natural causes.Media organizations often focus on other qualities that the designer(s) in Intelligent Design theory might have in addition to intelligence, "higher power", "unseen force", etc.
What is your say?
Intelligent Design (or ID) is the controversial assertion that certain features of the universe and of living things exhibit the characteristics of a product resulting from an intelligent cause or agent. Though publicly most ID advocates state that their focus is on detecting evidence of design in nature, without regard to who or what the designer might be, in statements to their constituents and supporters nearly all state explicitly that they believe the designer to be the Christian God.Adherents of ID claim it stands on equal footing with the current scientific theories regarding the origin of life and the origin of the universe. This claim has not been accepted by the mainstream scientific community who argue that intelligent design does not constitute a research program within the science of biology. Despite ID sometimes being refered to popularly and in the media as Intelligent Design Theory, it is not recognized as a scientific theory and has been categorized by skeptics as creationist pseudoscience. The National Academy of Sciences has said that Intelligent Design "and other claims of supernatural intervention in the origin of life" are not science because their claims cannot be tested by experiment and propose no new hypotheses of their own. Critics argue that ID proponents find gaps within current evolutionary theory and fill them in with speculative beliefs, and that ID in this context may ultimately amount to the "God of the gaps".Both the Intelligent Design concept and the associated movement have come under considerable criticism.This criticism is regarded by advocates of ID as a natural consequence of methodological naturalism which precludes by definition the possibility of supernatural causes as rational scientific explanations. As has been argued before in the context of the creation-evolution controversy, proponents of ID make the claim that there is a systemic bias within the scientific community against proponents' ideas and research based on the assumption of methodological naturalism that science can only make reference to natural causes.Media organizations often focus on other qualities that the designer(s) in Intelligent Design theory might have in addition to intelligence, "higher power", "unseen force", etc.
Sonnet18
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
22
Emily Dickinson
I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way
The value might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this my purchaser suspect,
The daily own of Love
Depreciates the sight;
But, 'til the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie.
At least, 'tis mutual risk,
—Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life,—each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.
Emily Dickinson
I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way
The value might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this my purchaser suspect,
The daily own of Love
Depreciates the sight;
But, 'til the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie.
At least, 'tis mutual risk,
—Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life,—each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.
Tagore
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
Pablo Neruda.
And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddledwith arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starryvoid,
likeness, image ofmystery,
I felt myself a pure partof the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddledwith arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starryvoid,
likeness, image ofmystery,
I felt myself a pure partof the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
An excerpt from Language Truth and Logic by Alfred Ayer.
The criterion which we use to test the genuineness of apparent statements of fact is that criterion of verifiability. We say that a sentence is factually significant to any given person, if, and only if, he knows how to verify the proposition which it purports to express – that is, if he knows what observations would lead him, under certain conditions, to accept the proposition as being true, or reject it as being false. If, on the other hand, the putative proposition is of such a character that the assumption of its truth, or falsehood, is consistent with any assumption whatsoever concerning the nature of his future experience, then, as far as he is concerned, it is, if not a tautology, a mere pseudo-proposition. And with regard to questions the procedure is the same. We inquire in every case what observations would lead us to answer the question, one way of the other; and, if none can be discovered, we must conclude that the sentence under consideration does not, as far as we are concerned, express a genuine question, however strongly its grammatical appearance may suggest that it does.As the adoption of this procedure is an essential factor in the argument of this book, it needs to be examined in detail.In the first place, it is necessary to draw a distinction between practical verifiability, and verifiability in principle. Plainly we all understand, and in many cases believe, propositions which we have not in fact taken steps to verify. Many of these are propositions which we could verify if we took enough trouble. But there remain a number of significant propositions, concerning matters of fact, which we could not verify even if we chose; simply because we lack the practical means of placing ourselves in the situation where the relevant observations could be made. A simple and familiar example of such a proposition is the proposition that there are mountains on the farther side of the moon. No rocket has yet been invented which would enable me to go and look at the farther side of the moon, so that I am unable to decide the matter by actual observation. But I do know what observations would decide it for me, if, as is theoretically conceivable, I were once in a positions to make them. On the other hand, such a metaphysical pseudo-proposition such as “the Absolute enters into, but is itself incapable of, evolution and progress”1, is not even in principle verifiable. For one cannot conceive of an observation which would enable one to determine whether the Absolute did, or did not, enter into evolution and progress. Of course it is possible that the author of such a remark is using English words in a way in which they are not commonly used by English-speaking people, and that he does, in fact, intend to assert something which could be empirically verified. But until he makes us understand how the proposition that he wishes to express would be verified, he fails to communicate anything to us. And if he admits, as I think the author of the remark in question would have admitted, that his words were not intended to express either a tautology or a proposition which was capable, at least in principle, of being verified, then it follows that he has made an utterance which has no literal significance even for himself.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
How do I love her?
The sun asked me,"
How do you love her?"
I answered him,
"Like the way you shine within a clear blue sky".
The wind asked me,
"How do you love her?
"I answered her,"
Like the way you carry a cool summer breeze".
The trees asked me,
"How do you love her?
"I answered them,
"Like the way you grow tall on the huge mountains".
Then you asked me,
"How do you love me?
"I answered you,
"Like the way you love me".
The sun asked me,"
How do you love her?"
I answered him,
"Like the way you shine within a clear blue sky".
The wind asked me,
"How do you love her?
"I answered her,"
Like the way you carry a cool summer breeze".
The trees asked me,
"How do you love her?
"I answered them,
"Like the way you grow tall on the huge mountains".
Then you asked me,
"How do you love me?
"I answered you,
"Like the way you love me".
Naked In the Rain
-----He loved her
And
She loved the rain.
He wanted to read his favourite book,
Sit at the old fashioned chair near the window,
Put his feet on the antique pine wood table
And Read aloud his favourite lines.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to drink a glass of wine,
Lie down on the couch in the corner of the room,
Play comfy music on the record player
And watch the rain through the misty wine glass.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to light a cigarette,
Stand out under the sunshade in the balcony,
Listen to the sound of rain beating the world,
And watch the cigarette die out.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to write a new poem,
write her name on the paper boat,
Fill the buckets with the fresh rain water,
And dedicate the poem to her.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
-----He loves her
And
She loves the rain.
-----He loved her
And
She loved the rain.
He wanted to read his favourite book,
Sit at the old fashioned chair near the window,
Put his feet on the antique pine wood table
And Read aloud his favourite lines.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to drink a glass of wine,
Lie down on the couch in the corner of the room,
Play comfy music on the record player
And watch the rain through the misty wine glass.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to light a cigarette,
Stand out under the sunshade in the balcony,
Listen to the sound of rain beating the world,
And watch the cigarette die out.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
He wanted to write a new poem,
write her name on the paper boat,
Fill the buckets with the fresh rain water,
And dedicate the poem to her.
Instead....
He stood naked in the rain.
-----He loves her
And
She loves the rain.
Rahul and I
He was unaccompanied in the room. Without delay I hurried in to the room. I was hanging around the room from two days to see the baby’s face intimately. From past 48 hours there was always someone watching the kid. The newborn was very cooperative with the people who came in to visit him all the times except for some flimsy moments.
It was an accident. Some fat aunt of Rahul took the baby into her lap. She said, “He is cho chweet” and was trying to kiss him. Ssssss…like the fountain in the garden, the Sweetie kid pissed on her face. She threw him instantly on the bed and started cursing for making her costly saree wet. It took two hours for the guests and relatives to calm down the kid.
Now the little one is alone. People left him thinking that he was sound asleep. He woke up and was looking intently at the ceiling fan. I looked around to confirm that there is no one around and moved silently towards the baby’s face. He saw me and now his gaze shifted from the ceiling fan to me. I tried to perform some feats in the air, just to amuse him. He seemed to show no interest in all that. While I moved around the room he was trying anxiously to fix his eyes on me. I stood still in the air making it easy for him to grasp a clear view of me.
The room was noiseless except for the occasional screeching sounds from the fan above. For five long minutes I stood motionless in the mid air and the baby was looking at me with out a blink. It was a moment that I will cherish for an eternity. I moved closely towards his face, it was almost a replica of Rahul’s face, charming and tender with large black eyes.
Suddenly I felt cold and blue. I felt like crying, but controlled my grief, lest the baby boy will start crying with me. But when I thought about it for a second time I thought it was just an illusion
This is the last day here for me. This day passed, life will be like hell in heaven. “One more chance!” I thought, would God grant me the wish for just one more time. I knew it would be impossible to persuade God this time. He was constantly liberal in granting my wishes, but I knew that it couldn’t go on like this, forever and a day. This time He firmly told me that this would be the last time I will be visiting this planet.
Many a times I thought of not returning to the heaven but I could never do it. I knew it was by God’s wish alone I could stay here. This made feel bad about Him many a times. I dare not to get angry at God’s stance towards me, for he was the One who constantly allowed me to visit planet Earth year after year for the last twenty-seven years, to be precise twenty six years. I lived here for one year and for the next twenty-six years I used to visit this planet once in a year for Rahul’s Birthday.
This year was special. God was lenient this time. This time being the last time I was permitted to be here for an entire week, Sunday included. It’s not Rahul’s Birthday this time, it is the arrival of his son on to the mother earth. The birthday was two days back. It was a normal delivery but Rahul’s was a caesarean
.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It was December 29th; 1977.That was the day of Rahul’s arrival. It was not announced, not even anticipated. Rahul’s mom Veena was watching a film in a cinema hall. She was heavy with the child in her ninth month of pregnancy. It was after a lot persuasion the in-laws of Veena have allowed her to watch the film.
Veena’s favorite hero was dancing with red denims and white shoes on the screen. She was very fond of him. She never missed watching her most wanted hero’s film on the first day of release. This time too, she didn’t want this film to let pass.
She was moving uncomfortably in the seat. She was not paying attention to the superhuman stunts performed by the hero on screen.
Suddenly from the mid of the packed theater everybody heard a cry, it echoed like the train screaming through the tunnel and seconds after the auditorium was soundless again. Everyone, in the hall was almost sure that the cry was not from the screen.
“Labor pains!” Exclaimed Veena’s cousin who was sitting besides her. Veena was already in a state of unconsciousness. The lights were turned on and the film was rolling uninterrupted. Soon the ambulance was called for; Venna’s parents and husband were informed.
I was right there when all this happened. That’s how I knew it in such a subtle detail.
The ambulance was on the road to Sri Venkateswara Maternity Hospital. I followed them to the hospital. None of my co-travelers in the vehicle were aware of my presence. They had worried expressions. In fact I was secreted on the top of the ambulance.
From the beginning I was intrigued by the cycle of birth and death. At all times I had this unauthoritative outlook of human beings in relation to their sensitive understanding and enjoyment of the splendor of nature and the beauty around them.
More or less my friends used to be in agreement with my theory. But when I meet them occasionally in the gardens of paradise they look at me like some foreign being that does not coalesce in beliefs with them.
The fretful drive came to an end. The ambulance halted in front of the hospital. The nurses and the ward boys were already waiting for the ambulance. Veena’s husband anxiously rushed in to the vehicle along with the ward boys. She was rushed into the operation theatre.
I was still sitting there on the vehicle top, stunned by the hue and cry made by Veena’s friends and relatives waiting in front of the Hospital. It was very difficult to translate the feelings in their faces. I never had seen any such feelings in my life. I knew only two mutually exclusive feelings. I was either in high spirits or felt miserable.
***** ***** ****** ******
The front hall was nearly vacant. That was the first time I have seen a hospital’s premises so close. I waited for sometime and slipped in to the hall making sure that there was not much movement around. A lean woman was sitting and yawning at the reception counter. The restlessness was screening her face. I thought that she wouldn’t become aware of my admission. She noticed me but did nothing to stop me.
I roved around for a moment or two only to realize that, I have lost the way. I did not know where to find Veena and all. I found them on the top floor. Everybody was waiting anxiously waiting outside the operation theater. Entry was restricted into the operation theater. I was hanging around the corner of a wall when I saw a nurse coming out of the theater. In a split second I was in. I felt extremely blissful. It was like a dream come true. I watched Rahul’s arrival, I listened to his opening cry and I saw his first smile. I noticed the twinkles in his eyes when the first light pierced into his beautiful eyes.
Half of me was dancing with ecstasy for all that I have experienced but half of me was trembling with fear and pain for what I have seen in the course of the delivery. Her body was cut into parts to bring out the child. I never expected that the dawn of a life would be so agonizing.
My mom never talked about any pain or thing like that with reference to my birth. Later when I asked her she didn’t express any thing excluding a quiet laughter. But what amused me the most was the endurance Veena demonstrated. The instant she reclaimed her consciousness hastily she examined the room and found Rahul in the arms of her husband. In a flash all her pain seemed to have vanished. She laid a hand on the baby’s fore head and with an immense effort moved to the edge of the bed and kissed him delicately on the cheeks.
Once again I felt certain about my theory about human appreciation of beauty around them. After two days of careful nursing by the hospital nurses and a bulk payment to the hospital by Rahul’s father, Rahul was taken back to his home. He didn’t have a name then. I didn’t have a name too in all my life. He was named on the 4th day of his birth.
It was a bit controversial.
It was a secretive dream of Veena to name her son, as Rahul, it was the name of the character of her much loved actor in her favorite film. None of the family members knew about it but still they had an objection. Rahul’s father said that name was too posh. Like most of the times, Veena didn’t find any point in her husband’s disagreement .He wanted to name him as Ramu in fond reminiscence of his grand father Rama Rao.The controversy was solved after most of the family voted in favor of the stylish name than the conventional one. So the kid was baptized Rahul.
Since that day on I was a steady company to Rahul till the day death took me away from him. In the flesh I was missing but was an itinerant spirit watching scot-free Rahul.
******** ******** ******** **********
It was a really good morning. The sun was very bright. The flowers were shining bright in the morning sun. I have decided to visit Rahul earlier than my habitual plan.
It was after a one-hour journey I discovered that I was going nowhere even though I was traveling from long. When looked around I was sure that I was in a place alien from top to bottom. There were roads, not single, not two, but hundreds, each one crossing each other. There were no traffic lights; not even the cops at the signals. There seemed to be more and more people coming in and out from nowhere.
The place was like a huge room. It had doors that would never open but walls that you can walk through. There were mountains many and so many mountain climbers. I saw them reaching the top so easily and from there on they were struggling to climb into the emptiness.
I asked a fellow soul,”What lies behind the space?” .He answered me with a simple smile.
For some time I have thought that I was dreaming. But I was not told that I was dead and the place is called heaven until I met my mother once.
It was a bitter feeling to know that you are dead and cannot do what you wanted to do. Deep with in my heart was the longing for the land of my dwelling place and the love for Rahul, I cried silently for days and one day I have decided to have a one to one dialogue with the Supremo him self.
“Where is God?”
I made inquiries but none of the souls around could answer. I thought I would go mad.
I met Him one day in the paradise while I was just wandering about the place. I was frantic to ask him all the questions. He seemed to be familiar with my upset feelings. The opening item of our discourse was the inquiry about my feelings and attachment towards Rahul. To my greatest surprise he also knew about my theory about human appreciation of nature. The discussion started off very well. It was more of a debate than a discussion.
“What is troubling you?” God questioned.
“My response might not make much variation” .I have replied back strongly.
He was little annoyed .I was unsure about his moods, but I felt that He must be feeling bad for being the Supreme and being questioned by a tiny little soul. In spite of everything He has given to me, I thought, He would never be able to answer my questions.
Like an unexpected explosion, the Almighty prompted:
“What Questions?”
I replied him angrily saying:
“You made me, sent me to a place, made me love the place and life around me and then suddenly with no fault of mine and with no choice given you brought me here in to a place called heaven. Why? Why did you do this to me.”
It was the outbreak of all the hurt and distress in me.
God spoke and said, “My dear friend, simple questions does not necessarily mean that simple answers. I cannot answer your questions. But in turn shall I ask you a simple question?”
And I answered Him with a nod.
“Would you be delighted to go back to the place you loved?”
I wanted to jump to the utmost achievable altitude and come back, but with a little pause I responsed,”YES”.
That’s how I was allowed to visit planet Earth year after year. And I remember God warning me about the ridiculous human behavior. Never did I care.
*********** ********** *************
For twenty five years I watched Rahul grow up from only just a kid to a father of another only just a kid. From time to time I had a feeling of certainty that Rahul on no account knew about my existence. But there were those tender moments of his babyhood etched in my mind that hang back in my mind. May be for that same reason I have been coming back year after year to see him grow up into an adult.
Of course there were those days when I had firm idea of not coming back to see Rahul. From an innocent squeaky-clean kid to a shrewd acquisitive adult, I saw him loving and being loved, caring and being cared, hating and being hated. I never could take in the transformation from innocence to remorse. Year after year I have seen the fading smile on Rahul’s face as he grew up. Uncertainties, doubts, fears, worries and suspicions seemed to be the steady companions for Rahul. Each birthday made him a year older but also more secluded from friends and family.
It used to upset me very badly when my theories sounded too weird for myself. Rahul never seemed to remember the days of his childhood, the days of beautiful sunrises, flower filled gardens and colorful butterflies. As years passed on all that he was interested in were more bundles of paper that he fondly called money.
Back in paradise friends, acquaintances and even my mom used to mock at me for being in so much love with Rahul.On no account I had the tendency of getting irked by their derision. I thought one day he would change and that would be the answer for everything. But that day appeared to be far from actuality.
That’s how I knew Rahul.
****** ********** *************
The kid smiled at me and I waved at him playfully.
God knew that I was not so happy about my visits to this planet. He always wanted everyone to be happy and for the same reason he instructed me that this trip would be my final trip. This year being a special one welcoming another new soul, I desperately wished to be here.
The guiltless smile on his face brought in the previous recollections to my mind. For Whatever reasons I loved watching human beings as kids and children. Today being the last day for me all that I wanted to do was to watch the kid peacefully.
Suddenly I heard a sound out side. It was my long time friend Rahul.I did not want him to notice me and tried to hide my self in a corner.
He saw me while he was leaving the room but has left the room with no reaction on his face and left me puzzled.
I thought that those are the final moments that will bear his face in my mind. It was already getting dark and I considered leaving the place forever.
“THUD”
Suddenly out of nowhere I heard a sound. For a moment I was traumatized. The next moment I realized that Rahul was trying to kill me with a thin little pad.
A sense of immense pain hit me. It wasn’t physical pain though. I tried to laugh at him for a moment at his act of trying to kill a ghost.
All my rigid theories about human beings started collapsing on my self. It was very difficult for me to comprehend. But everyone out there in paradise warned me of the same thing happening to me someday. At that instant I rushed out from that house and never even looked back and flew back to Paradise.
************* ***************** **************************
Now when I think about all that I hear someone inside me mockingly laughing at me.
God was true. It was a clear fault of mine. I could not see the truth.
I went and met the Almighty and thanked him for making me realize the fact that there is none in the universe like the vindictive human being.
When I took leave from the Almighty I heard him mumbling with in himself.
“Hm…The eternal tragedy of relationships and expectations…”
He was right.
What a tragedy! I am just a small little philosophical dead butterfly. What use of me for the human beings.
************************************************************************
THE END
He was unaccompanied in the room. Without delay I hurried in to the room. I was hanging around the room from two days to see the baby’s face intimately. From past 48 hours there was always someone watching the kid. The newborn was very cooperative with the people who came in to visit him all the times except for some flimsy moments.
It was an accident. Some fat aunt of Rahul took the baby into her lap. She said, “He is cho chweet” and was trying to kiss him. Ssssss…like the fountain in the garden, the Sweetie kid pissed on her face. She threw him instantly on the bed and started cursing for making her costly saree wet. It took two hours for the guests and relatives to calm down the kid.
Now the little one is alone. People left him thinking that he was sound asleep. He woke up and was looking intently at the ceiling fan. I looked around to confirm that there is no one around and moved silently towards the baby’s face. He saw me and now his gaze shifted from the ceiling fan to me. I tried to perform some feats in the air, just to amuse him. He seemed to show no interest in all that. While I moved around the room he was trying anxiously to fix his eyes on me. I stood still in the air making it easy for him to grasp a clear view of me.
The room was noiseless except for the occasional screeching sounds from the fan above. For five long minutes I stood motionless in the mid air and the baby was looking at me with out a blink. It was a moment that I will cherish for an eternity. I moved closely towards his face, it was almost a replica of Rahul’s face, charming and tender with large black eyes.
Suddenly I felt cold and blue. I felt like crying, but controlled my grief, lest the baby boy will start crying with me. But when I thought about it for a second time I thought it was just an illusion
This is the last day here for me. This day passed, life will be like hell in heaven. “One more chance!” I thought, would God grant me the wish for just one more time. I knew it would be impossible to persuade God this time. He was constantly liberal in granting my wishes, but I knew that it couldn’t go on like this, forever and a day. This time He firmly told me that this would be the last time I will be visiting this planet.
Many a times I thought of not returning to the heaven but I could never do it. I knew it was by God’s wish alone I could stay here. This made feel bad about Him many a times. I dare not to get angry at God’s stance towards me, for he was the One who constantly allowed me to visit planet Earth year after year for the last twenty-seven years, to be precise twenty six years. I lived here for one year and for the next twenty-six years I used to visit this planet once in a year for Rahul’s Birthday.
This year was special. God was lenient this time. This time being the last time I was permitted to be here for an entire week, Sunday included. It’s not Rahul’s Birthday this time, it is the arrival of his son on to the mother earth. The birthday was two days back. It was a normal delivery but Rahul’s was a caesarean
.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It was December 29th; 1977.That was the day of Rahul’s arrival. It was not announced, not even anticipated. Rahul’s mom Veena was watching a film in a cinema hall. She was heavy with the child in her ninth month of pregnancy. It was after a lot persuasion the in-laws of Veena have allowed her to watch the film.
Veena’s favorite hero was dancing with red denims and white shoes on the screen. She was very fond of him. She never missed watching her most wanted hero’s film on the first day of release. This time too, she didn’t want this film to let pass.
She was moving uncomfortably in the seat. She was not paying attention to the superhuman stunts performed by the hero on screen.
Suddenly from the mid of the packed theater everybody heard a cry, it echoed like the train screaming through the tunnel and seconds after the auditorium was soundless again. Everyone, in the hall was almost sure that the cry was not from the screen.
“Labor pains!” Exclaimed Veena’s cousin who was sitting besides her. Veena was already in a state of unconsciousness. The lights were turned on and the film was rolling uninterrupted. Soon the ambulance was called for; Venna’s parents and husband were informed.
I was right there when all this happened. That’s how I knew it in such a subtle detail.
The ambulance was on the road to Sri Venkateswara Maternity Hospital. I followed them to the hospital. None of my co-travelers in the vehicle were aware of my presence. They had worried expressions. In fact I was secreted on the top of the ambulance.
From the beginning I was intrigued by the cycle of birth and death. At all times I had this unauthoritative outlook of human beings in relation to their sensitive understanding and enjoyment of the splendor of nature and the beauty around them.
More or less my friends used to be in agreement with my theory. But when I meet them occasionally in the gardens of paradise they look at me like some foreign being that does not coalesce in beliefs with them.
The fretful drive came to an end. The ambulance halted in front of the hospital. The nurses and the ward boys were already waiting for the ambulance. Veena’s husband anxiously rushed in to the vehicle along with the ward boys. She was rushed into the operation theatre.
I was still sitting there on the vehicle top, stunned by the hue and cry made by Veena’s friends and relatives waiting in front of the Hospital. It was very difficult to translate the feelings in their faces. I never had seen any such feelings in my life. I knew only two mutually exclusive feelings. I was either in high spirits or felt miserable.
***** ***** ****** ******
The front hall was nearly vacant. That was the first time I have seen a hospital’s premises so close. I waited for sometime and slipped in to the hall making sure that there was not much movement around. A lean woman was sitting and yawning at the reception counter. The restlessness was screening her face. I thought that she wouldn’t become aware of my admission. She noticed me but did nothing to stop me.
I roved around for a moment or two only to realize that, I have lost the way. I did not know where to find Veena and all. I found them on the top floor. Everybody was waiting anxiously waiting outside the operation theater. Entry was restricted into the operation theater. I was hanging around the corner of a wall when I saw a nurse coming out of the theater. In a split second I was in. I felt extremely blissful. It was like a dream come true. I watched Rahul’s arrival, I listened to his opening cry and I saw his first smile. I noticed the twinkles in his eyes when the first light pierced into his beautiful eyes.
Half of me was dancing with ecstasy for all that I have experienced but half of me was trembling with fear and pain for what I have seen in the course of the delivery. Her body was cut into parts to bring out the child. I never expected that the dawn of a life would be so agonizing.
My mom never talked about any pain or thing like that with reference to my birth. Later when I asked her she didn’t express any thing excluding a quiet laughter. But what amused me the most was the endurance Veena demonstrated. The instant she reclaimed her consciousness hastily she examined the room and found Rahul in the arms of her husband. In a flash all her pain seemed to have vanished. She laid a hand on the baby’s fore head and with an immense effort moved to the edge of the bed and kissed him delicately on the cheeks.
Once again I felt certain about my theory about human appreciation of beauty around them. After two days of careful nursing by the hospital nurses and a bulk payment to the hospital by Rahul’s father, Rahul was taken back to his home. He didn’t have a name then. I didn’t have a name too in all my life. He was named on the 4th day of his birth.
It was a bit controversial.
It was a secretive dream of Veena to name her son, as Rahul, it was the name of the character of her much loved actor in her favorite film. None of the family members knew about it but still they had an objection. Rahul’s father said that name was too posh. Like most of the times, Veena didn’t find any point in her husband’s disagreement .He wanted to name him as Ramu in fond reminiscence of his grand father Rama Rao.The controversy was solved after most of the family voted in favor of the stylish name than the conventional one. So the kid was baptized Rahul.
Since that day on I was a steady company to Rahul till the day death took me away from him. In the flesh I was missing but was an itinerant spirit watching scot-free Rahul.
******** ******** ******** **********
It was a really good morning. The sun was very bright. The flowers were shining bright in the morning sun. I have decided to visit Rahul earlier than my habitual plan.
It was after a one-hour journey I discovered that I was going nowhere even though I was traveling from long. When looked around I was sure that I was in a place alien from top to bottom. There were roads, not single, not two, but hundreds, each one crossing each other. There were no traffic lights; not even the cops at the signals. There seemed to be more and more people coming in and out from nowhere.
The place was like a huge room. It had doors that would never open but walls that you can walk through. There were mountains many and so many mountain climbers. I saw them reaching the top so easily and from there on they were struggling to climb into the emptiness.
I asked a fellow soul,”What lies behind the space?” .He answered me with a simple smile.
For some time I have thought that I was dreaming. But I was not told that I was dead and the place is called heaven until I met my mother once.
It was a bitter feeling to know that you are dead and cannot do what you wanted to do. Deep with in my heart was the longing for the land of my dwelling place and the love for Rahul, I cried silently for days and one day I have decided to have a one to one dialogue with the Supremo him self.
“Where is God?”
I made inquiries but none of the souls around could answer. I thought I would go mad.
I met Him one day in the paradise while I was just wandering about the place. I was frantic to ask him all the questions. He seemed to be familiar with my upset feelings. The opening item of our discourse was the inquiry about my feelings and attachment towards Rahul. To my greatest surprise he also knew about my theory about human appreciation of nature. The discussion started off very well. It was more of a debate than a discussion.
“What is troubling you?” God questioned.
“My response might not make much variation” .I have replied back strongly.
He was little annoyed .I was unsure about his moods, but I felt that He must be feeling bad for being the Supreme and being questioned by a tiny little soul. In spite of everything He has given to me, I thought, He would never be able to answer my questions.
Like an unexpected explosion, the Almighty prompted:
“What Questions?”
I replied him angrily saying:
“You made me, sent me to a place, made me love the place and life around me and then suddenly with no fault of mine and with no choice given you brought me here in to a place called heaven. Why? Why did you do this to me.”
It was the outbreak of all the hurt and distress in me.
God spoke and said, “My dear friend, simple questions does not necessarily mean that simple answers. I cannot answer your questions. But in turn shall I ask you a simple question?”
And I answered Him with a nod.
“Would you be delighted to go back to the place you loved?”
I wanted to jump to the utmost achievable altitude and come back, but with a little pause I responsed,”YES”.
That’s how I was allowed to visit planet Earth year after year. And I remember God warning me about the ridiculous human behavior. Never did I care.
*********** ********** *************
For twenty five years I watched Rahul grow up from only just a kid to a father of another only just a kid. From time to time I had a feeling of certainty that Rahul on no account knew about my existence. But there were those tender moments of his babyhood etched in my mind that hang back in my mind. May be for that same reason I have been coming back year after year to see him grow up into an adult.
Of course there were those days when I had firm idea of not coming back to see Rahul. From an innocent squeaky-clean kid to a shrewd acquisitive adult, I saw him loving and being loved, caring and being cared, hating and being hated. I never could take in the transformation from innocence to remorse. Year after year I have seen the fading smile on Rahul’s face as he grew up. Uncertainties, doubts, fears, worries and suspicions seemed to be the steady companions for Rahul. Each birthday made him a year older but also more secluded from friends and family.
It used to upset me very badly when my theories sounded too weird for myself. Rahul never seemed to remember the days of his childhood, the days of beautiful sunrises, flower filled gardens and colorful butterflies. As years passed on all that he was interested in were more bundles of paper that he fondly called money.
Back in paradise friends, acquaintances and even my mom used to mock at me for being in so much love with Rahul.On no account I had the tendency of getting irked by their derision. I thought one day he would change and that would be the answer for everything. But that day appeared to be far from actuality.
That’s how I knew Rahul.
****** ********** *************
The kid smiled at me and I waved at him playfully.
God knew that I was not so happy about my visits to this planet. He always wanted everyone to be happy and for the same reason he instructed me that this trip would be my final trip. This year being a special one welcoming another new soul, I desperately wished to be here.
The guiltless smile on his face brought in the previous recollections to my mind. For Whatever reasons I loved watching human beings as kids and children. Today being the last day for me all that I wanted to do was to watch the kid peacefully.
Suddenly I heard a sound out side. It was my long time friend Rahul.I did not want him to notice me and tried to hide my self in a corner.
He saw me while he was leaving the room but has left the room with no reaction on his face and left me puzzled.
I thought that those are the final moments that will bear his face in my mind. It was already getting dark and I considered leaving the place forever.
“THUD”
Suddenly out of nowhere I heard a sound. For a moment I was traumatized. The next moment I realized that Rahul was trying to kill me with a thin little pad.
A sense of immense pain hit me. It wasn’t physical pain though. I tried to laugh at him for a moment at his act of trying to kill a ghost.
All my rigid theories about human beings started collapsing on my self. It was very difficult for me to comprehend. But everyone out there in paradise warned me of the same thing happening to me someday. At that instant I rushed out from that house and never even looked back and flew back to Paradise.
************* ***************** **************************
Now when I think about all that I hear someone inside me mockingly laughing at me.
God was true. It was a clear fault of mine. I could not see the truth.
I went and met the Almighty and thanked him for making me realize the fact that there is none in the universe like the vindictive human being.
When I took leave from the Almighty I heard him mumbling with in himself.
“Hm…The eternal tragedy of relationships and expectations…”
He was right.
What a tragedy! I am just a small little philosophical dead butterfly. What use of me for the human beings.
************************************************************************
THE END
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