ಓ ಕಾಲನೇ...

ಓ ಕಾಲನೇ,
ನಿನ್ನಡಿಗಳೊಳ್
ಧೂಳಾಗಿಯೇ
ನಾ ಬಾಳುವೆ.

ನಿನ್ ಗರ್ಭದೊಳ್
ಯಾವ ವರ್ತಮಾನವು
ಯಾವ ಭವಿಷ್ಯವ
ಸೃಜಿಸುವುದೋ
ಎನಗೆ ತಿಳಿವುದೇ?

ಎನ್ ದೃಷ್ಟಿಯೊಳ್
ನೀ ಕೃಪೆ ತೋರಿದೆಡೆ,
ತೋರದಿದ್ದೊಡೆ
ಹಸಾದವೆಂದೊಪ್ಪಿಯೇ
ಬಾಳ್ ಸವೆಸುವೆ.

ಬೆದರಿಸಿ, ಭವಣೆಗಳ
ನೀ ಭೋರ್ಗರೆಯೇ
ಸಹಿಸಿ ಹೋರಾಡದೆ,
ಎನಗೆ ಬೇರೆ
ವಿಧಿ ಏನಿದೆ?

ಮುಂದೆ ಮಣ್ಣಾಗುವೆನೋ
ಮಲ್ಲಿಗೆಯ ತವರಾಗುವೆನೋ
ಶಿಖರ ಶ್ರೇಣಿಯೋ ಕಾಣೆ.
ಧೂಳ್, ಧೂಳಾಗಿಯೇ
ನಿನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಶರಣಾಗುವೆ.

Garden of jackasses

"Ruined Garden in Salaano" Artist: Ludwig Michalek

"A jackass is all enough 

To wreck a green garden.

A herd of jackasses grazing,

Must be the public garden!"

ಮಂಗ ಸಂಭಾಷಣೆ

ಮರಿ ಮಂಗ: 
ಜಗವು ನೋಡುತಿಹುದಮ್ಮ, 

ನಮ್ಮನು ಜಗವು ನೋಡುತಿಹುದಮ್ಮ. 

ಯಾರು ಏನೆನ್ನುವರೋ ಏನೋ, 

ಕಾಡುತಿದೆ ಸರಿ-ತಪ್ಪುಗಳ ಗುಮ್ಮ.

ಅಮ್ಮ ಮಂಗ:

ಬದುಕ ಸವಿಯೋ ಕಂದಮ್ಮ, 

ಜಗದ ಅನುಮೋದನೆ ಏಕಮ್ಮ? 

ನಿನ್ನ ಕಾರಣಗಳು, ನಿನಗೇ ನೂರಾರು 

ಅವರಿವರಿಗೆ ವಿವರಿಸಲು ಅವರಾರು? 

ಮರಿ ಮಂಗ:

ಸಿಂಗರಿಸಿಕೊಂಡ ಜಗದ ಎದುರು 

ಕೆರೆದುಕೊಳುವ ಬಾಳ್ ನಮ್ಮದೆಂದು 

ತೋರಿ ಹೇಗೆ ಬದುಕಲೇ ಅಮ್ಮ? 

ಕಾಡದೆ ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಕೀಳರಿಮೆಯ ಗುಮ್ಮ? 

ಅಮ್ಮ ಮಂಗ:

ನವೆಯಾದೊಡೆ ಪರಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವುದೇ 

ಮಂಗಗಳಾಗಿ ನಮ್ಮ ಬಾಳ್ ನಿಯಮ. 

ಸಿಂಗರಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ನವೆಯ ಮರೆಮಾಚಲು 

ಅರಿವು - ವಿಶ್ವಾಸಗಳ ಕೊರತೆ ಕಾರಣ. 

ಮರಿ ಮಂಗ:

ಜಗವ ಮೆಚ್ಚಿಸಲು ಓಟದಿ ಜನರ ಜಾತ್ರೆಯು 

ನಾವ್ ಹೀಗೆ ಉಳಿದುಬಿಡುವುದೇ ಅಮ್ಮ? 

ಓಟ ಸೇರಿ ಮೀರಿಸಬೇಡವೇ ಮನುಜ ರಾಶಿಯನು?

ಬೇಡವೇ ನಮಗೂ ಬಿರುದು - ಬಿಗುಮಾನ? 

ಅಮ್ಮ ಮಂಗ:

ಜಗವ ಮೆಚ್ಚಿಸಲು ಕುಣಿಯ ಹೊರಟರೆ 

ನೂರು ಮಂದಿಗೆ ನೂರು ರೀತಿಯ ಮೆಚ್ಚುಗೆ 

ಎಲ್ಲರ ಮೆಚ್ಚುಗೆಗೂ ಕೂಡಿ ಹೆಜ್ಜೆ ಹಾಕಿದರೆ 

ಕುಣಿವ ಸೊಬಗು ಸೋತು ಸಾಯದೇ? 

ಮರಿ ಮಂಗ:

ಎಲ್ಲ ಒಪ್ಪುವೆ, ಆದರೆ ಏಕೀ ಬದುಕ ಬೇನೆ? 

ಹೊಟ್ಟೆಯಾತುರ ತೀರಿಸಲು ರಟ್ಟೆ ಸವೆಯಲೇಬೇಕೆ? 

ನಿನ್ನ ಅಪ್ಪಿ ಹಿಡಿದರೂನೂ ಆತಂಕದಿಂದ 

ದಣಿದು ಸೋತಂತೆ ಬಾಳ್ ಭಾಸವಾಗಿದೆ. 

ಅಮ್ಮ ಮಂಗ:

ಕಲಿತು-ಅರಿತು, ನಲಿದು-ಬೆಂದು, ಬಾಳಲಿ ಮಿಂದು 

ರಟ್ಟೆ ಸವಿಸಿ, ಗಳಿಸಿ ತಿನಲು ಆತ್ಮದಾತುರ ನೀಗುವುದು. 

ನನ್ನ ಅರಿವು, ಅನುಭವ-ಮಮತೆ ಎಲ್ಲ ನಿನಗಿದೆ 

ವಿಶ್ವಾಸಗಳಿಸು, ಸ್ಥೈರ್ಯದಿ ಬದುಕು, ಆತಂಕವೇಕೆ?

Infidel called Life!

Picture Credit: Myself

"We complicate it. We weave a web of ideas round it, what it is and what it is not. But it is none of these things. Because it is so very simple it escapes us, because our minds are so complicated, so time-worn and time-based. And this mind dictates the activity of the heart, and then the trouble begins."
- (Why are we such tortured human beings?) 

Krishnamurti, Meditations,1969

Idealism,

That Utopian

Abstract ambition;

To attain which

At times we limit

Ourselves and our

Brethren to such a

Very narrow vision!

Reality,

A tough tyrant

Aided by human emotion,

Instinct, desire, ambition;

Corrupts the epitome of

Our imagined ideality

Which is believed and

Adored by the society.

Time,

Too good in seduction.

Life fails to see

That deep deception!

Embroiled in the traps of

Immediate and urgent,

We lose sight of the

Important and pertinent.

Despite all

Being largely beliefs

And imaginations built

Over Centuries,

The blame is typically -

"Expect not fidelity

From that infidel

Called life!"

A Conversation

"Why do you live so far away from the city?," she asked her grandfather who was keenly observing the dog drive away the band of monkeys which had sneaked into the farm.

"Because, my darling, home is where the heart is."

"But, why is your heart here? The city is the epitome of human civilization. Such harmonious living together of diverse cultures built on the unconscious cooperation of invisible strangers, Infinite opportunities - to learn, to explore and to express. Despite the one in thousand instants of tumult or insensitivity, I love the city for its magic."

"When you were a child, you used to tell me that you loved the city for its lights and colors. Nice to see your tastes evolving. Lucky that you have your home in the city, which you love and hopefully where your heart is. You too will over time understand that we can simultaneously love multiple things, sometimes even contradictory ones and one's heart need not necessarily be with what one loves."

"The more older you get, the more disagreeable you seem! What are you doing here? What meaning does your life have in rearing these dogs and chasing those monkeys?"

"Whatever meaning human existence has, if any. I sometimes wonder if we are like the dogs here. Assuming the boundary of a piece of land to be the territory to guard and chase monkeys there. If suppose we happen to catch a monkey, then not finding in it what we are looking for, we chase the other monkeys all over again. Maybe we are not looking for anything in the monkeys but it is simply in our nature to chase them."

"Despite the thoughts being intriguing, I can't agree with them Grandpa. "

"Then, my love, maybe we can agree to disagree."

Wish of Women's Day!

PC: http://gallerianews.com/uxx/2014/11/woman-in-shadow-pun.jpg

(On a day of wishes, I hate to be realistic. Wishes are largely Utopian and they compel us to introspect the reality. I am trying to look from a women's perspective below. No offence intended.)

       Dear father, before you wish me a Happy Women's Day and start boasting of how intelligent your grand daughter is with your acquaintances, why don't you accept me for what I am? I am a housewife who was married off in grandeur to suit your status unlike my brother who studied to be a doctor. And now that I enjoy the chores of being a housewife, do not let your modern liberal views look down on me.

      Dear husband, before you wish me a Happy Women's Day and get on your wishing spree on social media, why don't you help yourself to serve the breakfast which is all laid out on the table? Doesn't the irony cause any guilt in you that while you pose as a modern liberal accommodative of feminist views on Facebook at the dining table, I am asked to serve food in your plate? Small gestures of sharing the burden of our home could bring me a better cheer than your wish.

     Dear daughter, before you wish me a Happy Women's Day and drown yourself in celebration, why don't you pause and savour the womanhood in my company too for a couple of minutes? Why are all your intellectual ideas only for the crowds that clap and elite friends who admire? Is your concern and love only for victims of domestic violence and rape? What of women like me raped by subtle unconscious indifference? My freedom of choice governed by the interests of my family which at times are invisibly dictated to me.

Numb

"And more has changed, the gaze that would report

your gaze is gone. You see the eyes you seem

to know, but you cannot remember how,

or if it matters anymore."

- Jeet Thayil ('After')
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The verses of Sahir, Faiz, Faraz -
All seemed to miss you.
Thoughts born from their reading
Went simply unshared.
The loss of a cherished friend
Was so very bothersome,
The nights got long, lonely, silent.
A churning of my beliefs, 
Questioning of my understanding,
Slow-burning of myself.  
I was guilty of what I had put you
Through, very guilty.

Years passed by, a risk looms large.
Pain of loss is fading off.
I am afraid I am turning numb
To nuances of the heart.
There was a time when feelings
Made me cry, jump in joy.
I now make only rational arguments
The romantic is dying in me.
Urge to share, Need of company 
Gradually growing alien.
Guilt overpowered by wise(?) reason.
All feels like time's treason.

With passage of time, we are past.
And what remains of us
Is not necessarily what we were.
In contrast to Ghalib's verse*,
Where he pleaded the loved one to
Call him back, since he was
Not time, that couldn't be retracted,
I wonder if we are all like time.
Once past, there is no calling back of
What we were in the moment
That just flew by and is gone forever.
Forever, to return never.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*मेहरबाँ हो के बुला लो मुझे चाहो जिस वक़्त 

मैं गया वक़्त नहीं हूँ कि फिर आ भी न सकूँ |

 mehrbāñ ho ke bulā lo mujhe chāho jis vaqt
maiñ gayā vaqt nahīñ huuñ ki phir aa bhī na sakūñ 

- Ghalib

(Being kind, call for me whenever you wish to.
I am not elapsed time that I can not return ever)

ಬಾಳು: ಆಕಸ್ಮಿಕಗಳ ಒಟ್ಟು ಮೊತ್ತ

Picture courtesy: Myself!
 
ಯಾವ ವಯಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಏನೋ, ಯಾರೂ ಅರಿಯೆವು
ಆದರೆ ವಯಸ್ಸಂತೂ ಕಡು ಖಚಿತ ಕಾಲನ ಬೇಡಿಗಳು.

"If our heart were large enough to love life in all its detail, we could see that every instant is at once a giver and a plunderer." 
- Gaston Bachelard

ನಾವು ಭಾವಿಸಿದಂತೆ ನಮ್ ನಾವಿಕರು,
ತೇಲಿ ಹೊರಟ ಹಡಗಿನಂತೆ ನಮ್ ಬಾಳು.
ಎಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾದಿಹವೋ ಯಾರೂ ತಿಳಿಯರು
ಸುಳಿ ಗಾಳಿ ಮಳೆ ಪ್ರಚಂಡ ಪ್ರಪಾತಗಳು.

ಅನಿಶ್ಚಿತತೆಯೇ ಮೈವೆತ್ತಿ ಹರಡಿದಂತೆ ಕಡಲು
ನಿಶ್ಚಿತ ಆ ವೈಶಾಲ್ಯವ ಒಳಗೊಂಡ ದಡಗಳು.
ಯಾವ ವಯಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಏನೋ, ಯಾರೂ ಅರಿಯೆವು
ಆದರೆ ವಯಸ್ಸಂತೂ ಕಡು ಖಚಿತ ಕಾಲನ ಬೇಡಿಗಳು.

ಸೀಮಿತ ಅನುಭವಗಳು, ಎಷ್ಟೆಷ್ಟೋ ಭ್ರಮೆಗಳು,

ಸರಿ-ತಪ್ಪು ಎಂಬ ನಿಖರ ನಿರ್ದಿಷ್ಟ ಪರಿಕಲ್ಪನೆಗಳು. 
ಅನುಭವ ಕಲಿಸುವ ಪಾಠಗಳು, ಬಾಳ ಪೆಟ್ಟುಗಳು,
ದೇಶ-ಕಾಲ-ಸಂಸ್ಕೃತಿ-ಸಮಾಜಗಳ ಸಾಪೇಕ್ಷ ಸತ್ಯಗಳು.

ಮನ ತೆರೆದಷ್ಟೂ ತೆರೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಾಂಡ ನಾಟಕವು 
ಅಚ್ಚರಿ-ಆತಂಕ-ಆನಂದ ಬಂದು ಅಪ್ಪಳಿಸುವ ಅಲೆಗಳು. 
ಸಂದಿಗ್ಧತೆ-ಸಂಭವನೀಯತೆಗಳ ನಡುವೆ ಈ ಪಯಣವು,

ಎಷ್ಟು ಆಕಸ್ಮಿಕಗಳ ಒಟ್ಟು ಮೊತ್ತವೋ ನಮ್ ಬಾಳು!

Judge!

PC: http://mentirasquetevoucontando.blogs.sapo.pt/

("Critic" is from Greek word "kritikos" meaning "able to judge or discern.")

"Unless we are very, very careful,we doom each other by holding onto images of one another based on preconceptions that are in turn based on indifference to what is other than ourselves.”

  - Psychologist-turned-artist Anne Truitt 

 

The angel and the devil were being critics of human actions -
"It was a good thing."
"No, it was a bad thing."
"But it was the best thing to be done there."
"It was inappropriate to be done there."
"She had the courage to stand against the mob."
"She did not heed to the wisdom of the crowd."
God who was busy playing with the stars asked them - "Why did she do so?"
The angel and devil in unison - "Maybe because...."
God - "Not your assumption of why. But the reality of why."
In unison - "How would we know?"
God - "What were her circumstances which drove her to do so?"
Again in unison - "How would we know?"
God - "Then what she did was good or bad?"
Again in mechanical unison - "How would we....!!!"

सन्नाटा

PC: Myself!

उनके इक लब्ज़ के इंतज़ार करते करते,

सन्नाटे की इतनी आदत हो गयी है की 

उनके लब्ज़ भी शोर सा लगने लगे है ।

(Waiting for a whisper of hers,

I have got so used to silence that

Her whispers too sound like noise.)

ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ....

ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.... 

ಕಡು ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ..... 

ವಿವಿಧ ಛಾಯೆಯ ಕಡು ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ....

ಮಳೆ ಕಾಣದೆ ಒಣಗಿದ ಹಳ್ಳಿ ಬದಿಯ ಮಣ್ ರಸ್ತೆಗಳಲಿ

ಧೂಳೇರಿ ಕಣ್ಮುಚ್ಚಿದಾಗ ಆವರಿಸುವ ಅವಕಾಶ ಕೊರತೆಯ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ವಲಸೆ ಹೊರಟ ಮಗನ ಬೆನ್ನ ಹಿಂದೆ ಎದೆ ಭಾರದಿ ಕುಸಿದು,

ಕಂಬನಿ ಇಡುವ ಅವ್ವಂದಿರ ಕಣ್ ಮಂಜಾಗಿಸುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಏಕಾಂತ ಇರುಳುಗಳ, ಭವ್ಯ ಸ್ವಪ್ನಗಳ ನಶೆಭರಿತ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಮೊದಲ ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಮೊದಲ ಸ್ಪರ್ಶದ ಅಮಲಲಿ ಕೌಮಾರ್ಯವು 

ಹಗಲಿನ ನಾಚಿಕೆ ಹೂತಿಟ್ಟು ತನ್ನಳಿವನು ಬಯಸುವಾಗಿನ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ,

ಭಾವ ರಾಗ ಉದ್ವೇಗ ತಳಮಳಗಳನ್ನೆಲ್ಲಾ ಬಿಗಿದಪ್ಪುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಜ್ಞಾನ ವಿವೇಕಗಳ ಮೇರುಕೇಂದ್ರಗಳಲ್ಲಿನ ಆಲೋಚನೆಯ ಅಭಾವದಿ 

ಜಾತಿ ಪಜೀತಿ ಕಲಹ ರಾಜಕಾರಣಗಳ ಅಂಧಾನುಕರಣೆಯ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಪ್ರಗತಿಯ ಹರಿಕಾರರು, ಕವಿಗಳು-ಕಲಿತವರು ಸೈದ್ಧಾಂತಿಕ ನೆಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ 

ಪ್ರಜ್ವಲ ರಾಮರಾಜ್ಯದ ಹುಸಿ ಕನಸ ತೋರಿಸಿ ಮಸಿ ಬಳೆವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಒಂಟಿ ಕಣಿವೆಗಳ, ಕಾಡುವ, ಬೆಕೋ ಎನ್ನುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಕಾಲದ ಕ್ರೌರ್ಯದಿ ವಿಧವೆಯಾರಾದ ಹೆಣ್ಮಕ್ಕಳು ಮೌನದಿ 

ಭಾವನಿವೇದನೆಗೈಯಲು ಸಾವಕಾಶದಿ ಕೇಳುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ,

ಸತ್ತವರ ಸಾವಿಗೆ ಎಂದೂ ಬದುಕಿಹರ ದೂಡದ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ನಾಗರೀಕ ನಗರ ಪಟ್ಟಣಗಳ ಭೂಗತ ಅಗೋಚರ ಪಶು ಪ್ರವೃತ್ತಿ 

ತನ್ನೊಡನೆ ನಕ್ಕವರ ನಗೆ ಕಸಿದು ಮಾನುಷ ಭರವಸೆ ಕೊಲ್ಲುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಅನಾಮಿಕ ಅಪರಿಚಿತರನ್ನು ಆಪತ್ಭಾಂದವರನ್ನಾಗಿಸುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಕಳ್ಳ ಕಿಡಿಗೇಡಿಗಳ ಮೆರೆಸಿ ಗೌರವಿಸುವ ಸುವ್ಯವಸ್ಥಿತ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಸುಧಾರಣೆಗಳ ಸುಸ್ತು ಪ್ರಗತಿಯಡಿಯಲಿ ನಿರುತ್ಸಾಹಗೊಂಡು 

ಆದರ್ಶವಾದಿಗಳು ಆದರ್ಶಗಳ ಔಚಿತ್ಯವನ್ನೇ ಪ್ರಶ್ನಿಸುವ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.

ಪರೀಕ್ಷಿಸದೆಯೇ, ಪರಾಮರ್ಶಿಸದೆಯೇ ಎಲ್ಲವ ಪ್ರಮಾಣಿಸುವ 

ನಮ್ಮೊಡಲಿನ, ನಮ್ಮಾಲೋಚನೆಗಳ, ನಮ್ಮಾತ್ಮಗಳ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ.