Today I opened the book,
the one you had given me to bring home rain-clouds,
there I found water,waist deep.
On turning the page ,
I saw
that water gathered into a small river
and drifted afar.
On the book full of flora,
that you had once given,
I cannot take another step,
so dense the forest now.
The trees so high,
they wont let a single ray of light
to touch the floor.
That book you had given to learn fountains,
now has a waterfall ,
gushing all day long.
Even that book which held
the feather you had gifted as a book mark,
has many birds flying all over now,swimming,resting.
All those books you have ever given me,
Are now deserts and mountains
All those books you have ever given me
Are now the sun and the horizon..
But yet, today friends are coming to see my library.
Coming to see if I am well-read!
What can I show them?
How shall I face them?
(translated from a bengali poem 'Premik' by Joy Goswami)
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Cynical
Our world believes in division of work ,so the state commits rights and people commit duties.In essence,this seems to me like the old tendency of pushing labour onto the other's table.
In this push and counter push,the thankless morality task has fallen on the common man's lap.It is his daily fight to keep integrated his body and soul,keep his moral world untouched from the price rise,corruption and degradation of the state's moral world.
On the other hand,the politician and his associates (read state) are free from this inhibiting moral business altogether.
In this country,only the powerful are the deserving.Otherwise how do candidates with grave criminal charges against them (murder, rape, kidnap) have the audacity to think of fighting an election?
In any other modern democracy,a politician merely suspected of embezzlement comes under fiery scanners.
But in India,the EC wont hear of debarring candidates with criminal charges,
I wonder exactly how many ‘innocent’ victims,falsely implicated by enemy camps,will suffer if such a law was passed?
Is it really so easy to charge an enemy with murder and rape ?If charging were so easy, why then do young women find it so difficult to even file a complaint of molestation or harrassment with the police?Recall the case of model Kirtana Krishna from Bangalore.
Ofcourse it could be,that police apathy is specially reserved for the common man,while the service is specially reserved for the 'deserving' again.
We on the other hand pay for both the police and the politicians ,to ensure firstly,that we commoners are well betrayed,and secondly,that they can serve each other in their times of need.
Our fish ,we know ,is rotten from the head down.That is why,tainted ministers,while lodged in jail,can spend days reading poems without a trace of tension in their demeanor.Our political elite has set very low standards of ethics for themselves,hence institutionalized corruption for the entire state machinery.
What can we do in times like this?Can the common man's moral world expand into the parliaments ,judiciary,police systems?Can 'deserving' mean cleaner candidates instead of cash rich ones?
In this push and counter push,the thankless morality task has fallen on the common man's lap.It is his daily fight to keep integrated his body and soul,keep his moral world untouched from the price rise,corruption and degradation of the state's moral world.
On the other hand,the politician and his associates (read state) are free from this inhibiting moral business altogether.
In this country,only the powerful are the deserving.Otherwise how do candidates with grave criminal charges against them (murder, rape, kidnap) have the audacity to think of fighting an election?
In any other modern democracy,a politician merely suspected of embezzlement comes under fiery scanners.
But in India,the EC wont hear of debarring candidates with criminal charges,
I wonder exactly how many ‘innocent’ victims,falsely implicated by enemy camps,will suffer if such a law was passed?
Is it really so easy to charge an enemy with murder and rape ?If charging were so easy, why then do young women find it so difficult to even file a complaint of molestation or harrassment with the police?Recall the case of model Kirtana Krishna from Bangalore.
Ofcourse it could be,that police apathy is specially reserved for the common man,while the service is specially reserved for the 'deserving' again.
We on the other hand pay for both the police and the politicians ,to ensure firstly,that we commoners are well betrayed,and secondly,that they can serve each other in their times of need.
Our fish ,we know ,is rotten from the head down.That is why,tainted ministers,while lodged in jail,can spend days reading poems without a trace of tension in their demeanor.Our political elite has set very low standards of ethics for themselves,hence institutionalized corruption for the entire state machinery.
What can we do in times like this?Can the common man's moral world expand into the parliaments ,judiciary,police systems?Can 'deserving' mean cleaner candidates instead of cash rich ones?
Monday, July 11, 2011
Cupid's Coffee (Part 3)
There is something about loneliness that reminds her of him.Or perhaps he sends loneliness her way so she never forgets the runaway prince?
Our princess often visited coffee shops.In this distant land,she sat alone at some quiet coffee table for a while before retiring to her chambers for the night.Here in summer,the sun shines till late.After her duties were done for the day,she stole a moment or two to walk by herself or spend it over a cup.
Most days,she read colorful magazines ,watched the crowd through the glass windows of the shop,gazed at the pretty young waiters and waitresses and idly heard the boys arguing at the next table as she drank the hot stirring liquid.
But even as she looked kindly at a yonder couple kissing,she could hear her prince whisper into her ears from another time'Princess,I'll be your genie,your guardian angel.'
'That's a tough promise to keep.You will have to be at my beck and call'she had said to him,and they had both smiled.
She had believed in that promise,held on to it for comfort.It still kept her warm in those spells of solitude.And yet she knew in her heart,she would never call him,neither in her times of distress nor to test his veracity.She did not have the courage to see it proved to her,that she had meant nothing to him.
In truth,she knew,this was not love.Only a melodic theme of a prince and a princess ,though far away from each other, and busy in a thousand ways in their own world with other people,who were strongly under each other's enchantment of love.
Our princess was either a romantic,or too attached to her captor.
Our princess often visited coffee shops.In this distant land,she sat alone at some quiet coffee table for a while before retiring to her chambers for the night.Here in summer,the sun shines till late.After her duties were done for the day,she stole a moment or two to walk by herself or spend it over a cup.
Most days,she read colorful magazines ,watched the crowd through the glass windows of the shop,gazed at the pretty young waiters and waitresses and idly heard the boys arguing at the next table as she drank the hot stirring liquid.
But even as she looked kindly at a yonder couple kissing,she could hear her prince whisper into her ears from another time'Princess,I'll be your genie,your guardian angel.'
'That's a tough promise to keep.You will have to be at my beck and call'she had said to him,and they had both smiled.
She had believed in that promise,held on to it for comfort.It still kept her warm in those spells of solitude.And yet she knew in her heart,she would never call him,neither in her times of distress nor to test his veracity.She did not have the courage to see it proved to her,that she had meant nothing to him.
In truth,she knew,this was not love.Only a melodic theme of a prince and a princess ,though far away from each other, and busy in a thousand ways in their own world with other people,who were strongly under each other's enchantment of love.
Our princess was either a romantic,or too attached to her captor.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Hurray!
When film stars and obscenely rich businessmen along with their wives, wave the tricolour from the VIP boxes,I cannot help but wonder what their India is like.
Imagine,you live in a palace,step out in designer clothes,donning large dark sunglasses into the most luxurious expensive cars,temperature suited to your comfort,driven by courteous chauffeurs,or into your private jet served by your staff.Here,you are king(or queen),and a king can do no wrong.You will never need to slip a 500 rupee note into the greasy hands of a traffic police or queue up behind hundreds of cars to fill yours,before gas stations call an indefinite strike,or worry about your kids admission or sweat over your new venture,or wait for months before you get that call for a job interview.
You wave your hands and the crowds cry out in thousands,you smile at them before vanishing into your hotel guarded by your men.At other times,when you feel too bored to wave,you order your guards to shoo the large crowd away.
When you wish to have a quick ride to your meeting venue,across the city,your managers and advisors call up the 'right people' to ensure your car is not held up at some traffic congestion.Will you even have the time to think of another man,who may be battling for life inside an ambulance held up for too long?The country you were born in,loves you, and of-course ,you love it back.
You spend millions and buy a cricket team to show your love,and you open retail chains in sprawling shopping malls so common people can improve their taste in clothes and food ,jewelery.
You build schools,where the hapless returning NRI ,Senior Executive, Media mogul, Entrepreneur,or Politician parents,who suffer anxiety at the thought of the company their children gather at those public schools,can finally,peacefully send their kids!So,when they declare you a true visionary, and when newspapers call you reformer,you are glad to see your patriotism recognized.
Then the camera turns at the ordinary stands,where 'the crowd' paint their faces and wave placards ,jump up and down,shout and cry.I cannot see individual faces here,but a field of heads and shoulders.But I look more carefully today,I try to spot a friend who has bought a ticket from the 'blackers' at thrice the value,almost his entire biweekly pay.I think I did spot him,fervently swinging his tricolour at every direction,wasn't that him in a blue shirt?One cannot be too sure though!
My neighbour's son,who is quite a few years younger than me,practices the game religiously.He can answer any quiz on the game,now isn't that something?He cannot watch today though,there has been a power-cut in their row of houses since last night.So he keeps peeping from across the boundary wall to catch a glimpse of our TV.
The man who runs a tea stall just opposite where I live,has been saving up for the last few years.Finally he has bought his first TV just before the matches started,though he had to loan a few hundred bucks from his friend,the bus conductor.They both are watching the game over cups of tea and frenzied shrieks.Not too many customers came to drink his tea,today.Less sales ,means he will walk home ten miles on foot,to try and cover the day's losses.
The bus conductor,is a school dropout.He had to drop out after his brother,the only bread earner in his family,met with an accident and died.He was hired by the same transport company his brother worked for.
That company is run by a aging man who lives nearby.He has a tough time keeping the wheels moving,given the rising fuel costs and deteriorating conditions of the vehicles and the equally disparaging roads and traffic conditions.Today he has given the day off,so his 'boys' can watch the game.Most of them are at his place watching it on his colour TV,while his wife serves them chai and snacks.
The wife is a cheerful little lady who needs very little to keep her happy.Indeed she has very little left after her son has left for USA to finish his education.Her parents had left her a little piece of land and some gold which had to be sold off little by little, to pay for her father-in-laws expensive surgery and to buy her son's dreams.
Her son is a diligent boy,works hard and will surely make his parents proud.
Today,she missed him,he loved watching these games and played well too!He was a top class player,"he can go upto the state levels in a few years"the school coach had said.
His middle class parents were not overjoyed,they knew the probability of an assured paycheck even for a talented player like him,could be slim,since he had no contacts,no godfathers or billions to influence anyone,studies would give him a better chance!
Suddenly the thoughts are interrupted by cheers in the parlour.India wins the game.Everyone shouts out "hurray"!
Imagine,you live in a palace,step out in designer clothes,donning large dark sunglasses into the most luxurious expensive cars,temperature suited to your comfort,driven by courteous chauffeurs,or into your private jet served by your staff.Here,you are king(or queen),and a king can do no wrong.You will never need to slip a 500 rupee note into the greasy hands of a traffic police or queue up behind hundreds of cars to fill yours,before gas stations call an indefinite strike,or worry about your kids admission or sweat over your new venture,or wait for months before you get that call for a job interview.
You wave your hands and the crowds cry out in thousands,you smile at them before vanishing into your hotel guarded by your men.At other times,when you feel too bored to wave,you order your guards to shoo the large crowd away.
When you wish to have a quick ride to your meeting venue,across the city,your managers and advisors call up the 'right people' to ensure your car is not held up at some traffic congestion.Will you even have the time to think of another man,who may be battling for life inside an ambulance held up for too long?The country you were born in,loves you, and of-course ,you love it back.
You spend millions and buy a cricket team to show your love,and you open retail chains in sprawling shopping malls so common people can improve their taste in clothes and food ,jewelery.
You build schools,where the hapless returning NRI ,Senior Executive, Media mogul, Entrepreneur,or Politician parents,who suffer anxiety at the thought of the company their children gather at those public schools,can finally,peacefully send their kids!So,when they declare you a true visionary, and when newspapers call you reformer,you are glad to see your patriotism recognized.
Then the camera turns at the ordinary stands,where 'the crowd' paint their faces and wave placards ,jump up and down,shout and cry.I cannot see individual faces here,but a field of heads and shoulders.But I look more carefully today,I try to spot a friend who has bought a ticket from the 'blackers' at thrice the value,almost his entire biweekly pay.I think I did spot him,fervently swinging his tricolour at every direction,wasn't that him in a blue shirt?One cannot be too sure though!
My neighbour's son,who is quite a few years younger than me,practices the game religiously.He can answer any quiz on the game,now isn't that something?He cannot watch today though,there has been a power-cut in their row of houses since last night.So he keeps peeping from across the boundary wall to catch a glimpse of our TV.
The man who runs a tea stall just opposite where I live,has been saving up for the last few years.Finally he has bought his first TV just before the matches started,though he had to loan a few hundred bucks from his friend,the bus conductor.They both are watching the game over cups of tea and frenzied shrieks.Not too many customers came to drink his tea,today.Less sales ,means he will walk home ten miles on foot,to try and cover the day's losses.
The bus conductor,is a school dropout.He had to drop out after his brother,the only bread earner in his family,met with an accident and died.He was hired by the same transport company his brother worked for.
That company is run by a aging man who lives nearby.He has a tough time keeping the wheels moving,given the rising fuel costs and deteriorating conditions of the vehicles and the equally disparaging roads and traffic conditions.Today he has given the day off,so his 'boys' can watch the game.Most of them are at his place watching it on his colour TV,while his wife serves them chai and snacks.
The wife is a cheerful little lady who needs very little to keep her happy.Indeed she has very little left after her son has left for USA to finish his education.Her parents had left her a little piece of land and some gold which had to be sold off little by little, to pay for her father-in-laws expensive surgery and to buy her son's dreams.
Her son is a diligent boy,works hard and will surely make his parents proud.
Today,she missed him,he loved watching these games and played well too!He was a top class player,"he can go upto the state levels in a few years"the school coach had said.
His middle class parents were not overjoyed,they knew the probability of an assured paycheck even for a talented player like him,could be slim,since he had no contacts,no godfathers or billions to influence anyone,studies would give him a better chance!
Suddenly the thoughts are interrupted by cheers in the parlour.India wins the game.Everyone shouts out "hurray"!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
To Gogo
Mr.Gogo little dah'ling
Climbs a big tree
without falling
Higher up ,up.
Mr Squirrel takes the lead
Gogo follows
with great speed
To the green town
at the top.
Four baby sparrows
were home alone.
One nibbled away
at a small plankton
They were playing
hide and seek
their sweet chirping
sounds all Greek.
But little people
can convey
heartfelt words
in their own way
So,Little Gogo knocked the door
shook his hands with all four
promptly joined them
in their game,
just then he heard mommy call his name.
'Come down now,or I'll wring your ear!'
'But I am just playing Mommy dear!
said little Gogo from his perch.
Alas!
Mommy's orders are too staunch
Down came Gogo
to eat his lunch.
But,whenever,like it, he felt,
Alone,lost
or boredom smelt
quietly climbed up
where his four friends dwelt.
To play with them
or share a munch.
and Mommy never has a hunch!
Climbs a big tree
without falling
Higher up ,up.
Mr Squirrel takes the lead
Gogo follows
with great speed
To the green town
at the top.
Four baby sparrows
were home alone.
One nibbled away
at a small plankton
They were playing
hide and seek
their sweet chirping
sounds all Greek.
But little people
can convey
heartfelt words
in their own way
So,Little Gogo knocked the door
shook his hands with all four
promptly joined them
in their game,
just then he heard mommy call his name.
'Come down now,or I'll wring your ear!'
'But I am just playing Mommy dear!
said little Gogo from his perch.
Alas!
Mommy's orders are too staunch
Down came Gogo
to eat his lunch.
But,whenever,like it, he felt,
Alone,lost
or boredom smelt
quietly climbed up
where his four friends dwelt.
To play with them
or share a munch.
and Mommy never has a hunch!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A Movie review
Actually this is not a really a review,I am a movie buff alright,and so is my little sister.This is a pie of our discussion yesterday,and a continuation of that talk with those of you who have watched it.
We went to watch 'Guzaarish' yesterday,me and my baby sister.
For us,going to a theatre isnt merely walking into a mom-n-pop store in our pyajamas.Only after few friends have recommended a movie,we plan in advance,look up the newspapers for a suitable show timing,tell parents we wont be home for dinner on that evening,dress well,and set out in our car.Its our day out.So,of-course,just the act of going for a movie would mean having fun together.
And when spirits are as high,benevolence is in the air and it is difficult to detect subtle defects.
Coming to 'Guzaarish' now,I liked it.Hrithik and Ash were charming as usual,also,the aloo-chaat we ate at the theatre was delicious.
The movie was about the world's greatest magician Eethan Mascarenhas who had filed a petition for euthanasia,twelve years (or was it fourteen) after an accident which had left him paraplegic,and how he lost the case but won people's hearts.He also made a devotee of a student,who had come to learn his trade secrets.Finally,his beautiful caretaker nurse Ashwariya offered to grant him his wish of death and he offered to marry her before dying.'Guzaarish' has a liberal garnishing of melodrama and emotional scenes,a little bit of conspiracy,bit of villainy,song music and dance sequences,a fiery romance.Everything needed for a movie to do well.
After it was over,we were thinking if the movie could be a little shorter.
It could have probably got over when the roof of his mansion,leaked over Hrithik on a rainy night.Unable to move,he lay drenched in his bed the whole night.That could have killed the protagonist from pneumonia or something.My sister added,that, after he died,the disciple could have pulled the bedspread from under his feet,and that could have been the last shot..Which would have meant,a last grand shot,where the protagonist,who was 'the world's greatest magician' , lay dead with a light smile on his lips while his disciple,and all those watching,would be surprised by the last magic act,the endless length of white bedspread being pulled from under his dark brown bed-cover.
Would it not be a sheer visual delight?!
Just a little tighter editing and shuffling the scenes a bit,could probably have cast a stronger spell.
We went to watch 'Guzaarish' yesterday,me and my baby sister.
For us,going to a theatre isnt merely walking into a mom-n-pop store in our pyajamas.Only after few friends have recommended a movie,we plan in advance,look up the newspapers for a suitable show timing,tell parents we wont be home for dinner on that evening,dress well,and set out in our car.Its our day out.So,of-course,just the act of going for a movie would mean having fun together.
And when spirits are as high,benevolence is in the air and it is difficult to detect subtle defects.
Coming to 'Guzaarish' now,I liked it.Hrithik and Ash were charming as usual,also,the aloo-chaat we ate at the theatre was delicious.
The movie was about the world's greatest magician Eethan Mascarenhas who had filed a petition for euthanasia,twelve years (or was it fourteen) after an accident which had left him paraplegic,and how he lost the case but won people's hearts.He also made a devotee of a student,who had come to learn his trade secrets.Finally,his beautiful caretaker nurse Ashwariya offered to grant him his wish of death and he offered to marry her before dying.'Guzaarish' has a liberal garnishing of melodrama and emotional scenes,a little bit of conspiracy,bit of villainy,song music and dance sequences,a fiery romance.Everything needed for a movie to do well.
After it was over,we were thinking if the movie could be a little shorter.
It could have probably got over when the roof of his mansion,leaked over Hrithik on a rainy night.Unable to move,he lay drenched in his bed the whole night.That could have killed the protagonist from pneumonia or something.My sister added,that, after he died,the disciple could have pulled the bedspread from under his feet,and that could have been the last shot..Which would have meant,a last grand shot,where the protagonist,who was 'the world's greatest magician' , lay dead with a light smile on his lips while his disciple,and all those watching,would be surprised by the last magic act,the endless length of white bedspread being pulled from under his dark brown bed-cover.
Would it not be a sheer visual delight?!
Just a little tighter editing and shuffling the scenes a bit,could probably have cast a stronger spell.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Drifted and Proud still
I set out on an evening,
quietly,
closing the door behind.
To travel far and wide,
alone.
I craved for water.
One cannot pluck others,
for this quest,
from their chores
They do not thirst.
So they are never led astray.
They do not drift
in the treacherous wild,
with a burning throat,
clueless,
starved and hoping,
till the very end.
And I fled
from the jeers,
of the pragmatic
and the boasts
of the boffo,
quietly closing the door behind.
quietly,
closing the door behind.
To travel far and wide,
alone.
I craved for water.
One cannot pluck others,
for this quest,
from their chores
They do not thirst.
So they are never led astray.
They do not drift
in the treacherous wild,
with a burning throat,
clueless,
starved and hoping,
till the very end.
And I fled
from the jeers,
of the pragmatic
and the boasts
of the boffo,
quietly closing the door behind.
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