Something Amiss..

13 07 2008

As a sheer wave of nostalgia hits me in this sunny Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t help but muse on all those lovely moments of my life.. Yes, Indeed I miss

  • Those Hasty Bicycle rides to School
  • Climbing Guava and Mango trees in search of sweet temptations
  • Those Hide and Seek Games that filled lazy afternoons
  • Summer Time.. Umm.. Mango eating competitions in the village backyards.. Yummy!
  • Hosting Bicycle Championships around the village roads
  • Inventing creative reasons for missing classes
  • Those innocent dreams of Ramayan, Snakes and Shaktiman
  • Those days of ‘Chitrahaar’ and ”Doordarshan’ sans remote control
  • Bending rules with childhood pals, my partners in crime
  • Those summer rains and the lighthearted frolic on the terrace
  • The sheer joy of growing up, and the academic rigmarole

Umm.. How I long for a little drizzle of joy or a time machine… Suddenly this whole business of playing the adult isn’t that appealing any more.





The Waiting…

4 06 2008

Anticipation.. How tantalizing that anguish it is!

Counting seconds as you await the hues in the sky to bend into your will, praying in lame desperation for hours to vanish without cognition, warding the quiet despair that’s creeping into your soul with a naive faith in heart and a wry grin. Time seems to be churning its longest hour and waiting seems like the hardest part of life.

The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

– Paul Laurence Dunbar

Sometimes I do wonder why is that the longing or the waiting for something so intense a feeling than the fulfillment of the desire? Why do those yearnings for somethings and anticipation of many nothings ache so much in heart even when the conscious mind does acknowledge that the fulfillment may not lead to consummate happiness? Why is it that the sweet throb of anticipation never matches the satisfaction of the accomplishment?

Life seems to be on swirl, caught in run amidst the seeping sand in the hourglass.





The Fires Within..

18 05 2008

When Was The Last Time That I Did Something For the First Time?

I attended a dance performance by Natyalakshana, called ‘The Fires Within’ which was sponsored by Bosch Cultural Events at Chowdaiah Memorial Hall this Friday. For those who were wondering about my new found interest in traditional art forms, I have to ascribe due credit to those unconventional inspirations that result from boredom.

And how glad I was that my whim took me there. How I thanked my friends for their exotic and audacious suggestion to take me there! The show was a beautiful symphony of music, dance and art, where flying feet gave voice to age old legends. The legendary poems represented are selected verses from Rabindranath Tagore’s ‘Gitanjali’, Bharathiyar’s ‘Dikku Theriyada Katil’ and a few selection of Mirza Ghalib’s poetry in Kathak. I loved the ‘Dikku Theriyada Katil’ and Ghalib’s poetry representation, where I felt that the dancers delivered a magnificent justice to the poems.

Shama and Sanjay’s ‘Dikku Theriyada Katil’ and Hari and Chandana’s ‘Mirza Ghalib piece’ had a delicate balance of perfection and expression and they held me in rapture through out. The dance drama that followed, called Tagore’s ‘Tasher Desh’ was a little bit disappointing, but the blame rests with my expectations which reached the sky by the end of the first two performances. If I have to define the experience, words would surely fail me as I am running short of superlatives. I could never realize that poetry could be so brilliantly enticing and soul wrenching. I was swaying in a world, so out of myself and the feeling is liberating. I believe that the credit of those beautiful moments goes to those on back stage as well. A special mention for Usha Venkateshwaran, the director of Natyalakshana who choreographed and produced the dances. Simone for the wonderful sway of lights and Sri Gurumurthy and Ustad Faizal Khan for their mellifluous music.

This event did make me reflect on my opinions towards conventional art forms. For to achieve perfection in blending, a music so divine, a dance that lent life to poetry and expressions that tugged heart, it must either have been Divine’s grace or years’ practice. It did teach me a thing or two about the immense beauty that’s submerged in Indian tradition and art. Like a welcome summer rain, my heart kissed the joy and danced along enticed in the magical world of dance, music and poetry. A worthy life long memory that’s for me for keeps.

Here are the translations in English for the Ghalib’s poetry that’s recited in the Event.

“O God Thy blessings on the soul
Whose name just came to my lips.
And as I willed that it be sung,
My speech rained kisses on my tongue.

These images drawn by Thee to make
Thine grand image, this world
Stand there like supplicants bowed in prayer:
Their burden they can’t bear.

The Fire in me, it rages high,
Though I be bound in chains.
The chain rings bounce,for they are light
Like hair all curled by flame

No simile matches her playfulness
And her quick-silver, passionate ways,
For, lighting lacks, by far, her play
And her temper is hotter than a blaze.

It is the nature of love, no doubt:
A kind of freak fire, which
You cannot start just when you wish,
Nor can you put it out.

A fire is raging in my heart
On this lonely night
My own shadow doth run from me
A smoke from fire takes flight.

It is ages since my beloved’s feet
Did cross this poor threshold.
So let her, with her twinkling cups,
Light up my dark abode.

My bustling crowd of desires
Each took my breath away!
Though I could quench many, many of them,
Yet millions remain un-slaked.





Happy New Year..

1 01 2008

Cheers to a new dawn, to a new beginning, and to another chance. I loved the gay festive mood the new year bought, with loads of lovely wishes floating around as it offered a wonderful reason for celebrations, resolutions, experimentation and prayers. Wish you all a wonderful time ahead.

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“What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of a year.”

-Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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In The Spirit of Silent Music..

8 12 2007

In a Blue Evening, Clear and Chilled,
Stilled in the Silent Chords of Music..
I sighed at the sight of soulful melody..

Music is a feeling and not sound,
How content I am, I can’t place in words,
As the joy of living is only sung and felt..

As the touch of resonating notes breath life,
And evoke the gentlest rhythms in my cold being,
I lay thawed there in spent emotions..





Dream Merchant Strikes..

15 10 2007

Though a piece of fiction, this is a beautiful composition so I thought I would share it. I fell in love with it when I read it over a mail. I am not sure of the author to acknowledge (as I guess both these poems are written by different people and are connected by someone), yet kudos to him as he laces words beautifully to create a fairytale. Now don’t you dare wonder whats with me and horse riding metal guys! I just happen to like that idea! 🙂

****************

She dreams of her knight and longs for companionship. As her thought shapes into an expression, the words sway like this.

“In this world full of hurt and pain,
I need someone who would help me through the rain.
To comfort me when Im sad,
Doing everything just to make me glad.

In this world I need a Brave Knight,
Who would never give up any fight.
A knight who would dry away my tears,
Telling me to overcome my fears.

A knight who loves me for who I am inside,
With him there’s nothing more I need to hide.
A person who will still be standing strong,
Even though everything has gone wrong.

I need someone who is willing to give me more,
Someone I can call my Knight In Shining Armor”

And the Knight muses on and fills all his love to pen his promises which flow this way..

“Love is a many splendored thing, they say,
And I believed it when you looked my way,
Out of the blue, things seemed to happen
By chance or destiny, is the question.

Living my life so long, without knowing your existence,
Then came a day we felt each others presence,
Guess what’s meant to be will always find a way,
Love creeps into hearts and decides to stay.

A love so exquisite, yet so intricate,
In a world of only “you and I”
A love we can’t even demonstrate,
A secret we have to keep for life.

I love you, honey, and it’s from the bottom of my heart,
I would wait for the day when you say “I Love you” back,
You make me fly without wings,
You make my heart wants to sing.

Every moment I spent with you,
Is every one of my dreams coming true,
More than words, I want to show you how I feel,
Someday, some place, sometime, I will.

Love is a journey for two,
Step by step, me and you,
The future we can’t see,
Let love lead the way for you and me.”

Their dreams connected and as the fate choose to unite them under the blessings of heaven. And then they lived happily ever after.

*****************************************

Note: Now you may wonder why its titled Dream Merchant? The story rings so good and runs like a dream, yet I want to be connected with the reality that not all verses are true and not all stories end up with happy endings. There are times when life plays the dream merchant, be braced for that. There is a thin line between truth and fantasy. How much ever we wish we want our wildest dream to be true, life will have different plans.. The best way to brave it is to greet the situation with a big smile and savor moment by moment with no expectations. Tough call indeed! I wish u all the best!





He Who Forgets..

28 09 2007

This poem by Walt Mason serves a humorous admonition to all those forgetful people. I count myself as one in that gang too. At times I feel that absentmindedness happens on those issues which we don’t deem as important. I remember reading this at IMDR and thought of sharing it today, after two years!
*******************************

The merchant said in caustic tones:
“James Henry Charles Augustus Jones,
Please get your pay and leave the store
I will not need you any more
Important chores you seem to shun
You’re always leaving work undone
And when I ask the reason why,
You heave a sad and soulful sigh
And idly scratch your dome of thought,
And feebly say,” Oh, I forgot!”
James Henry Charles Augustus Jones,
This world is a poor resort for drones,
For men with heads so badly set
That their long suit is to forget.

No man will ever write his name
Upon the shining wall of fame,
Or soar aloft on glowing wings
Because he can’t remember things.
I’ve noticed that such chaps as you
Remember when your pay is due;
And when the noontime whistles throb,
Your memory is on the job;
And when a holiday’s at hand,
Your recollection isn’t canned.
The failures on life’s busy way,
The paupers, friendless, wan and gray,
Throughout their bootless days, like you,
Forgot the things they ought to do.
So take your coat, and draw your bones

James Henry Charles Augustus Jones!”





Frozen Dreams!

26 04 2007

Kudos to Paul Laurence Dunbar, for he says

“What dreams we have and how they fly
Like rosy clouds across the sky;
Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,
Of love that comes to cheer and bless;
And how they whither, how they fade,
The waning wealth, the jilting jade —
The fame that for a moment gleams,
Then flies forever, — dreams, ah — dreams!”

Life for some is living a dream, and for some, its outliving them! There is always a time, a space when I am my idealistic best and strive for what I dream.

Yet, alas.. I wake up to greet every rising sun with a realistic gleam expecting a predictable rhythm.. Masquerading as a practical, rational entity!

I only have to look in myself to find those frozen dreams inside.. Hanging suspended in the isolated vacuum of my demented mind.. Yet, I hold fast to the dreams, for life is a barren desert if not for them!

One changes with time and dreams change too. As I grow with life’s experiences, my definitions change. Reflecting upon, I realize a new tone of tolerance in life, and a fresh perspective to things. And I retire to every dusk for a new set of dreams..





Bilbo’s Last Song by J.R.R. Tolkien

14 02 2005

Day is ended, dim my eyes,
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell, friends! I hear the call.
The ship’s beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to west of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar,
I’ll find the heavens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star above my mast!





A Poem with a Soul!

29 01 2005

Just read about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning’s love story and got to understand the meaning and sense in this poem.. I read it aloud and felt the experience of love! Really its a poem with a Soul..

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

By Elizabeth Barret Browning





Sonnets from the Portuguese

16 12 2004

Elizabeth Barret Browning is my goddess of romantic poetry. Why do I love her Sonnets from the Portuguese? Its because she gives me hope and puts a twinkle back in my eye! 😉 Her poetry is for keeps and I treasure most of those 42 sonnets by my bedside.

Why this poem moves me? Why it touches my heart like a gentle breeze? Why I feel moved by the intensity of these emotions? Never could answer that. I hope you will enjoy this the way I did…

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love’s sake only. Do not say
‘I love her for her smile–her look–her way
Of speaking gently,–for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,–and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry,
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love, thereby!
But love me for love’s sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning





Bounceback!!! … Getup and Win the Race!!!

12 12 2004

This is a forward which I have received just now. I really loved the passion and persistence which strongly comes out in this poem. I loved reading it, I hope you will enjoy it too!

THE RACE

“Quit! Give Up! You’re beaten!”
They shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now.
This time you can’t succeed!”

And as I start to hang my head
In front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by
The Memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene;
For just the thought of that short race
Rejuvenates my being.

A children’s race–young boys, young men
How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear;
It wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope’
Each thought to win the race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.

And fathers’ watched from off the side,
Each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went!
Young hearts and hopes afire.
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular
Whose dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field
Across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself
His hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope
He couldn’t win it now–
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up
And showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said:
“Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done.
Behind a bit, that’s all–
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself
To catch up and to win–
His mind went faster that his legs;
He slipped and fell again!!

He wished then he had quit before
with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now;
I shouldn’t try to race.”

But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face.
That steady look which said again:
“Get up and win the race!”

So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last–
“If I”m to gain those yards,” he thought
“I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had
He gained eight or ten
But trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!

Defeat!! He lay there silently
A tear dropped from his eye–
“There’s no sense running anymore;
Three strikes: I’m out! Why try?”

The will to rise had disappeared
All hope had fled away;
So far behind, so error prone;
A loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought.
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” and echo sounded low.
“Get up and take your place;
You were not meant for failure here.
Get up and win the race.”

“With borrowed will, get up,” it said
“You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more,
And with a new commit
He resolved that win or lose
At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now,
The most he’d ever been–
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
Three times he rose again;
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner
As he crossed the line first place,
Head high, and proud, and happy;
No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster
crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer
For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last
with head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,
“I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said.
“You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”
They still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says:
“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”





Poems and Poems..

8 09 2004

Author: Laurie Picotte
Poem Title: Leaving
Poem:

Leaving is the hardest thing I ever had to do,
but what hurt the most to me was having to say goodbye to you.
Will be still the same the next time that we meet,
or drift apart and change like two strangers on the street.
Time can only tell us what will lie ahead,
but will time fill my vacant heart just like when we met.
The tears finally fade and my feelings disappear.
If anything at all, this I have always feared.
Now that I’ve left you, will I ever learn,
Always knowing deep inside, that I can never return.

Author: Laurie Picotte
Poem Title: STRANGER

Poem:

Each day that passes by I come closer to the end
The time when we will say good-bye to what we had back then.

What I thought would make me happy is breaking up my heart
It’s a battle of emotion that’s tearing me apart.

I made a promise to myself that I intend to keep,
but how can I go on with this pain that is so deep.

It was hard to get to know you and I’m still not sure I do;
but one thing is for certain I really do love you!

Through all these times of trouble we came upon this place
the path where we will have to part and choose our separate fates.

Guided in our journey by the Angels from above,
We will meet again someday; my dear sweet lost love!

Author: Laurie Picotte
Poem Title: WILL YOU BE THERE

Poem:

When time comes to a stand still and the world come to an end,
will you still be there for me from now until then.
When the moon never beams and the sun no longer shines,
will you still love me more and more as days go by.
The way I feel about you the world cannot compare,
please don’t ever leave me I need you there.

I got these poems from onlinepoetry.com. I am touched by the depth of emotions they portray.