What do I say, what I see in their eyes??

Learning experience: Children of the community 

What do I say, what I see in their eyes??
Isn't it in them, that the essence of life lies?
There is a lot to it than mere words can capture.
Pure hearts, pure souls and like pure rapture -
Flow they through life's tough terrains to conquer
The spirit of survival and savor its splendor!

Sometimes...

Picture Credit: http://farm2.staticflickr.com/1239/5120822354_cea72a07d4_z.jpg

Sometimes, I savour the serenity of solitude. 

Sometimes, I lament the lackluster loneliness. 

Sometimes, I cry in the dark - all alone, engulfed by fear.

Sometimes, I find solace only deep within the darkness. 

Sometimes, I feel I was terribly betrayed 
                             - my love never reciprocated.

Sometimes, I understand I was the one 
                             who betrayed many innocent hearts.

Sometimes, I think I have been wronged 
                            - the world has been very unkind.

Sometimes I realise I am over sympathetic 
                             to myself and harsh to mankind.

Sometimes, I break promises I made to 
                            my most loved ones and to myself.

Sometimes, I keep promises to them, 
                           whom I once considered insignificant.

Sometimes, I dance to the melody of a 
                           non existent rhythm in the noise.

Sometimes, I complain of a pseudo noise 
                           in a flawless random rendition.

Sometimes, I push myself in to that which,
                I have over the years avoided to venture into. 

Sometimes, I toil to pull myself out of that into which, 
                I once very enthusiastically plunged. 

Sometimes, I pursue that which,
                  for years I have consciously avoided. 

Sometimes, despite having arrived at the destination 
                 I passionately pursued for long, 
                I choose to walk into the wilderness of uncertainty.

Sometimes, I wonder if it is all a dream. 

Sometimes, I am reminded it is all a life.

Love: Selfish or Selfless?

The angel and devil were contemplating on the nature of love -
"Being in love is selfless," said the angel.
"Being in love is selfish," retorted the devil.
"When you love someone, you live your entire life for those loved ones and not for your own self. You give up on your individual identity."
"All during your life, you love to satisfy your own need of being loved. Striving simply to satisfy a selfish psychic drive."
"When you love, you take up the responsibilities of those you love."
"As you love, you limit your responsibilities to only those you love."
"You have never experienced true love, that's why you know not what it is."
"As if you have experienced, true love is only a perspective, never in existence."
"Come, fall in love, discover how the self looses itself in the universe as does the drop in the ocean."
"Come, fall out of love, discover how the self was blinded by its assumptions of the horizons of the universe."

Stay forever?

Before her smile, turned into laughter
She was compelled to shed a tear.
Will her innocence stay the same ever?
 
Then a smile, now in pain - a cry.
Again shall she surely jump in joy,
'Cause that is how fast time does fly.

The queue

"Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again."
                                                                           - Khalil Gibran

          The afternoons were usually bright and sunny in this part of the city. But it was different on that fateful day decades ago when I last saw the sky. As if the sharp sun rays had signed a pact not to pierce the dark clouds, the afternoon was gloomy. I entered the office enthusiastically and joined the queue of my fellow citizens. Each had his own reason to stand in the queue - land registration, rehabilitation, pension, documentation, certification. The rich and the poor, irrespective of their social standing in this modern day of civilized existence, I thought, had come to claim what was depicted their right from the finest institutionalized structure - the state.

       I stood wondering whether to rejoice being part of the greatest revolution in the evolution of political structures - the democratic revolution or simply accept that this too is a farce and our dreams of an egalitarian existence was still a dream far away. I hoped the corridors of power would reinvent themselves into cradles of responsibility. At least, that was the common dream the proponents of democracy had wished for when they placed their faith in the 'will of the people'. But on display was the most traditional abuse of power - 'to make one wait unreasonably' for what rightfully belongs to him!
       The queue stood almost static, as if a long snake lying nearly dead, only the tail restless. We at the end of the queue were told the clerk had been for lunch. And it seemed as if he took ages to have his lunch. After each hour, I asked the fellow who stood before me if the clerk had returned. He asked the one before him and the question travelled a long distance to and fro, before we got our answer in the negative.
     The quintessential clerk - he was the citizen's first point of contact with the state. To us, at the rock bottom of the social pyramid, he was the door out of misery, which never opened! Yet deep in our heart, the window of hope never closed, because we were told we lived in a democracy, which was supposedly destined to empower.
     As life came to a stand still in the queue and my eyes wandered around, I felt all that everyone and everything did there was to wait. Though the minute hand of the clock, as usual took sixty seconds to move, it felt as if the wait of sixty seconds was a wait till eternity. The desks too waited, maybe for years now, to be dusted. The files on the desk would have died long ago, but they were alive as once in a while they would be moved from one table to another. Many cabinets and cupboards waited, waited to be opened so that they could get a fresh lease of air. Maybe every thing in the office waited to get rusted and be replaced. Not much had changed, though the world outside had changed beyond recognition, it was still the same Kafkaesque world inside.
    My wait extended from days to weeks and as we waited, weeks turned to months. Though the hierarchy of unresponsive power could make us all wait, time never heeded to any power however mighty. Accustomed to make their own brethren wait, had the insiders too waited instead of reforming the system with changing times? Had time simply overtaken them all and they still stayed frozen in the past, asking us to wait till the past overtakes the present!?
     Now, the act of waiting no more seemed to be a pain, for our existence itself was a pain and a life accustomed to pain could find neither justice nor solace complaining of pain. Months had rolled into years and years into decades. The queue, I had failed to notice, changed with time. Many left the queue, few joined it. I too was told that the queue need not be the only way. There were alternate ways, each had its price. But I argued we had paid all price to bring in the revolution of democracy and the only justice was in adhering to the will of the people. In reply the watchman who monitored order in the queue told me - "Only two kinds of people adhere to the rules and join the queue - one, those stubborn foolish idealists like you, who believe in the rules and two, those who cannot afford anything else, but the queue."
       After decades of wait, I finally got to the clerk. He looked at my request and said I had applied in the wrong form. But I retorted that it was the right form, the only form of request available back at the end of the queue. The clerk, his characteristic unyielding self, informed that the forms were changed by the government when I waited in the queue and the form I submitted was no longer valid. I felt betrayed - betrayed by my own brethren, stabbed straight in my chest. The thought of getting the right form and waiting in the queue all over again terrified me. But these long years of wait had reduced me to a position where I could not afford anything else, but the queue alone.
       Frustrated at my plight, as I walked back, I wondered aloud "What is my fault? Why am I tortured to get what rightfully belongs to me? What is wrong here?"
        The watchman heard me and said - "I can answer your last question and all other questions have their answers in it."
     "Go on," I begged, " What is wrong in here?"
     With an ironic smile, he replied back with conviction - "the will of the people!"

When I think of thou...

When I think of thou,
Thou art an ocean -
An ocean, vast and huge, unbounded, untamed -
Home to life, home to love, home to joy and grief.
Infinitely the billows raise and fall - crust and trough,
Emotions in thy heart too peak and then go meek.
As the seasons vary so does the ocean's vagary -
Unpredictable, inconsolable, never at heart - penury.

When I think of thou,
Thou art the horizon -
The horizon, ever elusive, unattained, inaccessible -
Visual illusion, Conspicuous by its near real existence.
However faster approached, as far as it always remains,
As if within the grasp of the explorer, mythical its reins.
Contradiction of logic and reasoning, yet do eyes betray?
Or our own perception denies to get along nature's play?

When I think of thou,
Thou art the streets -
The streets, tangled but colored, crowded, confused -
Full of celebration, hue and cry, sorrow and pleased.
Hoping fortune too shall strode through them, one day
And stay trapped within their sway having lost its way!
Brimming with noise, utter chaos, silence simply subdued;
Yet along the streets is the path to the abode of the learned.

When I think of thou,
Thou art the Himalayas -
The Himalayas, that crown the earth, reach to the skies -
Mammoth in spirit, beyond life and death, unheard cries.
Snow clad beauty on the exterior, Rock hard in the interior.
At times perceived a barrier, at times realized to be a savior.
Stand tall, head held high indifferent to shower or thunder,
As if equanimity flows deep down in the heart, no wonder!

When I think of thou,
Thou art simply a thought -
A thought that pops up again and again, never ceases to exist -
One that haunts me, gives me sleepless nights though I resist.
One that anchors the way I live, the way I think, the way I love.
Though fleets and wavers, brings it to me many memories.
Some I wish would be better off buried and some cherished.
Though I call thou only a thought, what on earth is not!?

Heals and wounds.

        The angel and the devil, were philosophizing and this time it was time that had stuck between them.

"Time heals all wounds."

"Time wounds all heals."

"It wounds."

"It heals."

"Wounds.."

"Heals.."

"Wounds"

"Heals"..

......

......

......

......

        As the argument looped infinitely, time went its way, doubting the credibility of being touted the independent variable, wondering why the accusation was on time alone, while they wounded and healed each other.

बेवजह इश्क

इस चाहत के पन्ने जब नाजुक से हिलते है,
तो मैं किस हवा को इसका कसूर दूँ?
इन पन्नों पे जब दिल कि आरज़ू बयान होता है,
तो मैं किस शायर को इसका कसूर दूँ?
इन बातें जब प्यार का वो पैगाम पहुँचाते है,
तो मैं किस परिंदों को इसका कसूर दूँ?
इस पैगाम को जब मेरे चाहत टुकरा देता है,
तो मैं किस दीवानगी को इसका कसूर दूँ?
इस टुकराये दाग़-ए-दिल जब हँसता है,
तो मैं इस बेवजह इश्क को कैसे कसूर दूँ?

All of us falter.

Moments that shape our lives -

Are the same that break our lives.

We suppose our lives are settled,

Only to discover they are cluttered -

While the world around is unfettered.

All the glory that seemed to gather -

With the passage of time does wither,

Reminding every gain was just a barter!

Perceptions, notions and opinions alter

Isn't it inevitable that all of us falter?

ಮುದ್ದಿಸೋ ದೈವವೇ ಅಳುವಾಗ..

ಚಿತ್ರ ಕೃಪೆ: ethiohealthcare.wordpress.com

      ಇಂದು ಮುಂಜಾನೆ ಎಂದಿನಂತೆ ತರಾತುರಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾಲೇಜಿಗೆ ತಯಾರಾಗಿ, ತಪ್ಪಿಹೋಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಬಸ್ಸನ್ನು ಹಿಡಿದು, ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಸುಡುಬಿಸಿಲಿನಿಂದ ಅವಿತು ಯಾವ ಮೂಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕೂರಬಹುದೆಂದು ಕಣ್ಣಾಡಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾಗ ಹಸುಗೂಸೊಂದನ್ನು ಮಡಿಲಲ್ಲಿ ಮಲಗಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು, ಕಣ್ತುಂಬ ಕಾಣದ ಕಂಬನಿ ತುಂಬಿಕೊಂಡು, ಅಸ್ಪಷ್ಟ ಅನಿರ್ದಿಷ್ಟ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಅಗೋಚರ ಉತ್ತರಗಳನ್ನು ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಿದ್ದಳೇನೋ ಎಂಬಂತಹ ಮುಖಚರ್ಯೆ ಹೊತ್ತಿಕೊಂಡ ಎಳೆ ವಯಸ್ಸಿನ ತಾಯೊಬ್ಬಳು ಕುಳಿತಿದದ್ದು ಕಂಡಿತು. ಕಿಟಕಿಯ ಬಳಿ ಕೂರಲು ಜಾಗವಿದ್ದರೂ ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಕೆಂಗೋಪಕ್ಕಂಜಿ ಆ ಸೀಟುಗಳ ನಡುವೆಯೇ ನಿಂತೆ. ಮನದಾಳದ ಮೂಕವೇದನೆ ಮುಖದ ಮೇಲೆ ಮೂಡುವುದು ನಿಜವೇ ಆದರೆ, ಅದರ ಸತ್ಯಾಸತ್ಯತೆ ನನ್ನ ಗ್ರಹಿಕೆ ಹಾಗು ಕಲ್ಪನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಹೋಲುವುದೇ ಆದರೆ ಆ ಹೆಂಗರುಳಿನ ಪ್ರಶಾಂತ ಕಡಲು ಭಾವಾವೇಶದ ಸುನಾಮಿಯೊಂದಕ್ಕೆ ಸಿಲುಕಿ ತತ್ತರಿಸಿಹೋಗಿತ್ತು. ಜೀವನೋತ್ಸಾಹದ ಹಡುಗು ಬೀಭತ್ಸ ಭಯಂಕರ ಬಿರುಗಾಳಿಗೆ ಸಿಲುಕಿ ಜರ್ಜರಿತವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಆ ಸುನಾಮಿ ಯಾವುದೋ, ಆ ಬಿರುಗಾಳಿ ಯಾವುದೋ ನಾನರಿಯೆ. ಆದರೆ ಅದರ ತೀವ್ರತೆ ಅವಳ ಕಣ್ಗಳ ನೀರವ ಮೌನದಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಫಲನಗೊಂಡಂತೆ ಕಂಡಿದ್ದು ಮಾತ್ರ ಸುಳ್ಳಲ್ಲ.
       ಇನ್ನೂ ಕನಿಷ್ಠ ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತು ವಸಂತಗಳನ್ನೂ ಕಂಡಿರದ ಎಳೆ ವಯಸ್ಸು, ಆದರೆ ಎದೆಯಾಳದ ನೋವಿಗೆ ವಯಸ್ಸಿನ ಕಿರಿತನದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಕರುಣೆ, ಅನುಕಂಪಗಳು ಎಲ್ಲಿನವು? ಜಿಗಿದೋಡುವ, ಪುಟಿದೇಳುವ ಉಲ್ಲಾಸದ ಚಿಲುಮೆಯಂತಿರುವ ಯೌವನದಲ್ಲಿ ಈ ತಾಯಿಯ ಮೂಕವೇದನೆ ಅದೇಕೊ ಮನವ ಬಾಧಿಸುತಿತ್ತು. ಜೀವನದ ಕಹಿಸತ್ಯಗಳ ಸೈರಿಸಿ, ನೂವ್ನಲಿವುಗಳ ಅನುಭವಿಸಿಯೇ ತೀರಬೇಕೆನ್ನುವ ಬಾಳನಿಯಮವ ಆಕೆಗೆ ಸಂತೈಸಿ ತಿಳಿದು ಹೇಳಬಲ್ಲ ಆ ಧೀಶಕ್ತಿ ಕಾಲಗರ್ಭದಿ ಎಲ್ಲಿಹುದೋ? ಹೆಣ್ಹೆಗಲಿಗೆ ಎಳೆವಯಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲೇ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿದ ಋಣಭಾರವ ಕಂಡು ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯ ಸಮ್ಯಕ್ ನ್ಯಾಯವದೆಲ್ಲಿ ಎಂಬ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ ಕಾಡುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. "ಸರಿಯೋ ಕಾಲದ ಜೊತೆಗೆ, ವ್ಯಸನ ನಡೆವುದು ಹೊರಗೆ" ಎಂಬಂತೆ ಕಾಲಚಕ್ರ ಉರುಳುತ್ತಾ ಈಕೆಯೂ ಸಮಾಧಾನಗೊಳ್ವಳು, ಅಲ್ಲಿಯವರೆಗೆ ಈ ಭಾವಬೇನೆಯ ಸರಪಳಿ ಇನ್ನಷ್ಟು ಬಾಧಿಸುವುದು. ಇದೇ ಏನು ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯ ಕಾಲಾತೀತ ನ್ಯಾಯಕ್ರಮ!?
      ಎಲುಬಿಲ್ಲದ ನಾಲಗೆ ವಟಗುಟ್ಟುವಂತೆ ಎಡೆಯಿಲ್ಲದ ಆಲೋಚನೆಗಳು ಓಡುತ್ತಿರಲು ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿ ಉತ್ತರಿಸಬಯಸಿದಂತೆ, ಆಕೆಯ ಹಸುಗೂಸು ಅಳಲಾರಂಭಿಸಿತು. ತನ್ನ ಮುದ್ದಿಸೋ ದೈವವೇ ಅಳುವಾಗ, ಕಂದನು ತಾನು ಕೈಸೋತು ಕೂರುವುದು ಹೇಗೆ ಎಂಬಂತೆ, ಅಮ್ಮನ ನೂರ್ನೋವುಗಳನ್ನೂ ತಾನೇ ನೀಗಿಸಲು ಪಣತೊಟ್ಟಂತೆ ಮಗುವದು ಚೀರಾಡಲು ಭಾವಾವೇಶದ ಹಲವು ಕಡಲ್ಗಳನು ದಾಟಿ, ಮನಸಿನುದ್ವೇಗದ ಶಿಖರ ಶೃಂಗಗಳನ್ನಿಳಿದು ತಾಯಿ ತನ್ನ ಮಗುವ ಸಂತೈಸಲು ತೊಡಗಿದಳು. ಮಗುವೊಡನೆ ಮಗುವಾಗಿ ತಾಯಿಯು ಅಳುವ ಕಂದನನ್ನು ಸಮಾಧಾನಗೊಳಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದಳೊ ಅಥವಾ ಕಂದನು ಅಳುವ ನೆಪದಿ ತಾಯಿಯ ಎದೆಯಾಳದ ಆಕ್ರಂದನವ ಕ್ಷಣಮಾತ್ರದಿ ಅಳಿಸಿ ಅವಳನ್ನು ತನ್ನದೇ ರೀತಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸಮಾಧಾನಗೊಳಿಸುತಿತ್ತೋ ನಾನರಿಯೆ. ತಾಯಿಯ ಅನಂತ ಮನೋವೇದನೆಗಳು ಮಗುವಿನ ಆ ಸಣ್ಣ ಅಳುವಿನೆದುರು-ನಗುವಿನೆದುರು ಶೂನ್ಯವಾಗುವ ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯ ಈ ಸಮೀಕರಣಕ್ಕೆ ಸಾಟಿಯೇನಾದರೂ ಇದೆಯೇನು?

Worth of an individual.

The angel and devil loved measurements for 'measurements are the blood of Science'.
"How do you measure the worth of an individual?"
"By the work he does. The way he works, his accomplishments."
"Work alone?"
"By the thoughts he disseminates. The way he analyses, his opinions."
"Only work and thought?"
"By the behavior he displays. The way he behaves, his rapport."
"Only work, thought and behavior?"
"By the appearance he carries. The way he looks, his hygiene."
"Only work, thought, behavior and appearance?"
"Ok, by many other factors too. Give me a break. What is your take on it? You don't agree with me?"
"No, I am afraid I asked the wrong question."
"Then what is your right question?"
"Who are we to measure the worth of an individual?"

An epic verse never completed!

          The breathtakingly conceived mammoth structure, simply left abandoned was like an extraordinary piece of an epic verse composed with soul stirring passion but never neared completion. Incomplete compositions have an aura of their own because whatever is completed is comprehensible but what is incomplete throws up infinite possibilities and it is uncertainty that is characteristic of the universe of creativity. The courage to dream of constructing something that would stretch to the skies and dwarf everything that was built till then is an astounding indication of the confidence and ambition of the man who dared to dream so. Like the raw beauty who does not dazzle with decoration but instead haunts with her intense looks, the "Alai Minar" continues to haunt me.

'Alai Minar': The haunting raw beauty in the sunset

           The incomplete rubble which is 24.5m high is only the core of the first floor, whereas the completed Qutb Minar is five-storied at a height of 72.5m. The diameter of the base is double that of the Qutb Minar and the Alai Minar was planned to be twice as high as the Qutb!! To stand in front of it and to imagine the completed structure in place of what actually exists would be a challenge to the ability of how far we can comprehend gigantic imaginations. What miracle had its creator Ala-ud-din Khilji envisioned! That it is located within the same complex as the Qutb Minar at simply a sneezing distance from it, gives us a relative picture of what an epic it could have been if completed. Very reminiscent of the Ghaliban phrase "yun hota to kya hota?"
         Consolidating the supremacy of the Delhi sultanate over larger parts of North India and extending into the Deccan plateau, Ala-ud-din Khilji left an indelible mark in Indian history. One of the few rulers in the world to have repeatedly defended against the invasions of the Mongol Empire, Khilji is painted in history as brave, ambitious and courageous. Literature has embraced the episode of Chitoor and the legend of Padmavati, where more or less Khilji is a personification of desire and lust. Beyond the descriptions of history and literature, the man has left for posterity his architectural signature, the sheer scale of which is Herculean. An undisputed emperor once, he now lies dead in his tomb, whose roof has fallen long ago. And the tomb is no grandeur but another incomplete structure whose walls are left undecorated, never finished as if left to the mercy of time.

Ala-ud-din Khilji's tomb

          Rabindranath Tagore in his poem on Shah Jahan and the Taj Mahal, says 

"You knew, Emperor of India, Shah-Jahan,
That life, youth, wealth, renown
Float away down the stream of time.
Your only dream
Was to preserve forever your heart's pain."

But what was it that Khilji was working towards preserving? About five hundred years prior to Shah Jahan, did Khilji actually realise 'That life, youth, wealth, renown Float away down the stream of time'? The 'Alai-Minar' was supposedly his symbol of victory over the Deccan. What irony that the symbol which had to stand for the victory of the emperor stands today as a reminder of the changing times, the changing fortunes and the grand refusal of time to freeze at the foot of any mortal however strong.

           Frequently quoted as an example for the failure of over ambition, the Alai Minar incites various emotions. The inner core devoid of ornamental calligraphic work, left uncovered exposing the rough cuts, the unpolished mortar work - is it a reflection of the raw animal spirit that is inherent in each of us? Is it a reflection of how we all are crude in our core and all our appeasing outer appearance is simply a mask of transient beauty? Is it a reminder that behind every polished work of enchanting beauty lies an unpolished rough reality? Is it a time ordained message that beauty, grandeur, greatness, perfection, excellence are all patchworks masking human frailty, failure, raw reality, harshness, imperfection?
          Though the importance of a work of art is measured on the basis of its historical significance, contemporary relevance, cultural contribution among other things, a primordial measure is how many ripples of thought does it give birth to in the thinking mind. Pablo Picasso famously said "Art is a lie that helps us see the truth." Since this colossal structure triggers the thought of many truths, at least to me on a personal level, it is an extraordinary marvelous work of art. It has left me mesmerized. It has left me with a lot of questions. It has left me with a haunting feel of incompletion. It has left me with a yearning for the infinite. It has left me with thoughts of naught, from which all that exists is born.

The Watchmaker.

     

Picture credit: wikipaintings.org (The watchmaker of Switzerland - Norman Rockwell)

     He looked more like a sadist. I wonder if a smile ever crossed his face. Maybe its true when people around say he is the most unfriendly guy they have ever encountered. His is a characteristic wooden face. Neither spark nor pain in his eyes, Neither smile nor sorrow on his face. But, what do I actually know of him? Not much. All I know is he is the only one who can mend my wrist watch which is about nine years old. In this age of instant likes, a wrist watch of nine years is living past its expiry and it is a mammoth task to get it mended because the model is 'too' old and its accessories obsolete!! If nine years is being too old, then this man almost in his late sixties or early seventies should have lived for ages!! God knows why he still sits in the scorching Sun mending age old obsolete models of watches. Isn't he too old for his work? What sort of businessman is he if he has to work late into this age? Maybe he lacks awareness as to what business is, how to save for the future, how to make profit out of each endeavor. Insufficient economic education, a highly prevalent maladies in our country, I intellectually theorized.

     Today, he was with a young guy. Maybe an apprentice, I thought. As I gave him my watch, he looked at me. Maybe he was mocking at my stubbornness in persisting with the same model. He dived into the antique box of his accessories, his old eyes still had that sharpness to find the perfect accessories, however small they were. The young guy and I were perplexed at the perfect judgment as the old watchmaker picked the perfect fit without even measuring the object. Maybe expertise is the product of experience. And then those fingers were set into an act of elegance as they put together those microscopic spare parts in their perfect positions within the watch and set it in motion. No sign of any emotion on his face. I wondered how he could be so devoid of feelings. He had accomplished something miraculous because every expert on watches in the town had told me that the watch could not be mended and this man, my last resort did it with such simplicity without the aid of any of those sophisticated tools, that I was left mesmerized at the quality of his skill and how he had sustained it till this age!

     Cursing myself for not coming to this disgruntled genius initially, I asked him how much I had to pay. Never a man to speak, as always, he indicated with his hands that I pay him ten rupees. The young guy by his side was shocked. In disbelief, he asked, "You have gone crazy? Only ten rupees? You know what business is? That's why you still rot in the Sun." The first time I heard the old man speak in years - "Relationship. How do you value it? I have seen this fellow come to me as an anxious boy years ago when his first watch needed to be mended. Maybe its almost a decade and it is still his first watch and he still comes to me.  His grandfather was among my first clients. A relationship of over fifty years. To me business is relationship, business is trust, business is the best service offered, business is the effective employment of the best skill. And I don't rot in the Sun, I wait to offer the best of my skills to the service of those in genuine need of it. That satisfies me and that is my business."

     Not a faint sign of an emotion, he looked at me with his typical wooden face, again indicated with his hands that it was ten rupees. 

ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

ಚಿತ್ರ ಕೃಪೆ: www.pbs.org

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is." - Albert Einstein

ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ -

ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಾಂಡದಿಂ ಬೆಸಲ್ಗೊಂಡೀ ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

ನಲಿವಲ್ಲಿ ನೊಂದಾಯ್ತು

ನೋವಲ್ಲಿ ನಕ್ಕಾಯ್ತು

ಹಸಿವಲ್ಲಿ ಅತ್ತಾಯ್ತು

ಕಸುವೆಲ್ಲ ಕೊಟ್ಟಾಯ್ತು

ಬರಿದಾಗದೀ ಬೃಹತ್ ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

ದುಃಖ ದುಮ್ಮಾನ ದುಪಟ್ಟಾಯ್ತು

ಸೊಗ ಸಂತಸ ಸಮ್ಮೋಹಿಸಾಯ್ತು

ರಾಗ ರೋಷ ರೋಸೋಯ್ತು

ಮಾನ ಮನ್ನಣೆ ಮೀರಾಯ್ತು

ಬಂದೊದಗದೀ ಬೆಳರ್ ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

ಕಣ ಕಾಣೋ ಕಣ್ಣೆರಡೂ ಕುರುಡಾಯ್ತು

ಮನ ಮಿಡಿಸೋ ಮಾತೆಲ್ಲಾ ಮರೆತೋಯ್ತು

ರೋಮಾಂಚನ ರಸಧಾರೆ ರಮಿಸಾಯ್ತು

ತನು ತೊರೆದ ತಾನ್ ತಲ್ಲೀನ ತವರಾಯ್ತು

ಬಿಡಿಸಲಸದಳ ಬಂಧವೀ ಬಾಳ್ ಬರಿ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ -

ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಾಂಡದಿಂ ಬೆಸಲ್ಗೊಂಡೀ ಬಾಳ್ ಬೆರಗೋ!!

Ecstasy of a poem

Picture Credit: vacacionista.wordpress.com

 "The meaning and ecstasy of a poem are more in the lines which are read, than in the lines which are written."

हम क्या ढ़ूँढ़ते है?

Picture credit: www.projectfresh.com

हम क्या ढ़ूँढ़ते है, हम क्या जाने?

ख़ुशी की गलियों से ढूँढ़ते जो निकले 
जब कट्कटाये तो, वो दर्द के दरवाजे निकले,

दहलीजे पार कर महफ़िल में जो आ पहुंचे 
अपनी मंज़िल के बिदाई पे जा पहुंचे | 

Precious!!

The 'Precious' ring from the epic "Lord of the Rings"

The angel and the devil overheard a gossip that they were supposedly on the list of those who would receive the gift of God. Accustomed to arguments, they set out on another one.
"The gift will be precious. We will have to take care of it."
"What is precious?"
"That we cherish, that we value and that we cannot afford to loose."
"What if it is lost?"
"It is precious, it simply can't be lost."
"Suppose I loose it, what will be the consequences?"
"Oh no! That is unimaginable, drastic, too very painful. A highly precious possession can't be lost, it has to be treasured."
"Come on, for the moment let us consider we lost the precious possession, we lost what we treasured and cherished.  We have felt all the pain. What next? What are the consequences - the after effects?"
"Well,.... in that case,....... Maybe, we will learn to live without it."
"If so, is the precious, so very precious?"

बहता मन

San Rafael Falls, Quijos River, Amazon, Ecuador

मन ये मेरा बहने लगा.....

मिलके तुझसे कहने लगा.....

तुझ तक जो बहके आया हूँ.....

क्या पता तुझसे बह भी न जाहूँ....!?

Assessment.

The angel and devil were in mood for some food for thought.

"You are stubborn."

"Are you sure?"

"You appear so."

"To whom?"

"To me."

"So, the stubbornness is in you."

"How?"

"If not, how else would you assess me so?"

"That is a non sense argument."

 "Here is how it makes sense to me - There is a feeling in you which you define in a particular way, later interpreting few similarities between that definition of yours and few of my actions, you associate its reflection with the perception you carry about me."

"That is a complicated logic. None puts in so much effort to arrive at an assessment."

"If not much effort is put in, how can it be called an 'assessment'?"

The count of stars.

Picture Credit: http://elizabethgrothe.files.wordpress.com

       

      The old man watching the sky, tells me he has spent all his nights counting the stars. I call him foolish, and head out to sleep. In my dreams I see my future. I curse the moon as its brightness obstructs me from finishing the count of stars!

'Content' or 'Ambitious'?

Picture credit: http://theworldisurban.com

The angel and devil were both in mood for contemplation.

"I prefer to call myself 'ambitious'. And you?"

"I prefer 'Contended'."

"But give it a thought, to not desire is the first sign of failure."

"And to desire always is greed."

"Ambition is a virtue because it leads to achievement of success, progress, development and enhanced standards of living."

"Contentment too is a virtue because it leads to peace of mind, sound health and harmony in life."

"But ambitions fuel energy into our living." 

"And satisfaction is the most fulfilling experience of living."

"So, you want to stay contended with what you have instead of being ambitious?"

"No, maybe I want to be contended with what I get instead of brooding over what I could not."

"But you contradict yourself. When you want to be content, you are actually harboring a desire. The 'desire' to be satisfied. Aren't you?"

"Yes. But, is it really a contradiction. Isn't something missing?"

"Why? What do you think is amiss?"

"Well, maybe they are related as the means and end. Ambition the means and contentment the end?"

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

"Maybe I should call myself 'Confused'."

"Maybe, that's what we both are. Neither 'Ambitious', nor 'Content' but simply 'Confused'!"

ನಾ ನಿನ್ನ ಬಾಳಲಿ ಬೆರೆವೆ!

ಚಿತ್ರ ಕೃಪೆ: shannonmilholland.blogspot.com

"If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I." - Michel de Montaigne

ನೀನ್ ಹೇಗಿರುವೆಯೋ ಗೆಳೆಯ, ಅದ ನಾನರಿಯೆ.

ಹೀಗಿದ್ದರೆ ಹೇಗೆ ಎಂದೊಂದಿದೆ ನನ್ನೊಳು ಬಯಕೆ.

ತೀರುವುದೇನೋ ತಿಳಿಯನು ಆ ಒಲವಿನ ಹರಕೆ,

ನನಸಾಗುವುದಾದರೆ ಕನಸು ನಾ ಆನಂದದ ಅಕ್ಷತೆ!

ಕೈಸೇರಿಯೂ ಕೈತಪ್ಪುವ ಆ ಒಲವಿನ ಓಲೆ,

ತಿಳಿದೇಳಿವುದೇನೋ ಈ ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಮಾಯೆ.

ಇದ್ದೂ ಇಲ್ಲದೆ ಇರುವುದೆ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಪರಿಭಾಷೆ,

ಅರಿತು ಅದರಲ್ಲೇ ನಲಿವುದೆ ಬಾಳಿನ ಒತ್ತಾಸೆ!

ನಿನ್ನೊಳು ನಾನಿದ್ದರೂ ನಾ ನಾನಾಗಿಯೇ ಇರುವೆ,

ಇರುವಂತೆಯೇ ಒಪ್ಪಿದರೆ ನನಗೂ ಸರಿಯೇ.

ಒಮ್ಮತದಿ ಮೂಡಿದಾಗ ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಪರಿವೆ,

ಸರಿತಪ್ಪರಿತು ಲೋಪ ದೋಷ ತಿದ್ದಿ ನಡೆವೆ.

ಹೀಗಿದ್ದರೆ ಗೆಳೆಯ ನಾ ನಿನ್ನ ಬಾಳಲಿ ಬೆರೆವೆ!

ನೀನಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಈಗ, ರಾಗದಿ ಆಲಾಪದ ಕೊರತೆ;

ನಿನ್ನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಆಗ, ಋತುಗಾನದ ಸಲುಗೆ;

ಹೀಗೆ ಕನಸಲಿ ತೊಯ್ದಳು ಚೈತ್ರದ ಚೆಲುವೆ!

ಬರಿಯ ಪರಿಕಲ್ಪನೆ?

ಉಪಮೆ ಉಪಮಾನಗಳಾಚೆ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯವೂ ಬರಿಯ ಪರಿಕಲ್ಪನೆ!

ಹೃನ್ಮನದಿ ಭರದಿ ಸಾಗಿರುವ ಭಾವೋತ್ಪನ್ನ ಕ್ರಿಯೆಯ ವಿವರಣೆ.

ಎನಿತು ಸರ್ವಕಾಲಿಕ, ಸರ್ವ ದೇಶೋ-ಭಾವ ಸತ್ಯ ಸಂಧತೆ?

ಎಲ್ಲಾ ವಿಶೇಷತೆ - ಬರಿಯ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿ ವಿಶಿಷ್ಟತೆ, ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿ ನಿರ್ದಿಷ್ಟತೆ!?

Discovery of desires!

"In love, the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two." 
- Erich Fromm

     Silence speaks the most profound. My best compositions happen when I am allowed the privilege to get soaked in silence. And the beauty of that composition sinks in only if the listener too can afford silence and surrender absolutely to the composition. The market demands music that sells and I believe music is the one that heals. It was another season of work and pressure in which my work of music simply got criticised for the lack of authentic feel. I don't understand how could possibly feelings be injected into music? Sick and tired, I decided to take a break and drive away from all this chaos into the countryside where I believe time doesn't run! A clear cloudless star studded sky watched over as I drove along. At about half past midnight, to drive alone without a destination to reach, on the roads where in all probabilities you won't encounter a fellow traveler, oh, what pleasure it is! The pleasure is aggravated if you too are a girl like me whose only wish is to be winged!!
     I love to work, but I love to abandon work when it is just about to overpower me. Work is such a necessity, if not for it, insanity would have been our only option. It gives meaning to our existence, finances our extravagance and keeps us entertained in the company of foolish intellects and intellectual fools! Yet, too much of any good thing also has bad effects. So, the best escape from the pressures of work is to simply forget it for the moment. As I drove into the wilderness, I was mesmerized by the lyrical harmony of the night. In a place of immense serenity, I stopped to savour those moments of beauty, where the night, stripped off her urban glamor dazzled as the true self she was. May be the night too was happy, I could sense her joy - the joy of striking a meet with a good old friend.
     While I was getting drenched in this shower of joy, I noticed across the road, at the edge of the cliff someone staring at the stars. Who could it possibly be at this hour of night, I wondered. Maybe someone like me, out on an escape from all that which holds us under pressure! Does that person too stare at the stars with the dream to be winged and fly over to them one day, as I do dream? Overpowered by curiosity, I crossed the road and walked towards the edge of the cliff. In that moonlit beauty of the night, I found a handsome guy lost in his own world of thoughts. The ambience around, the cool breeze in flow, oh, there was melody and rhythm in the silence that pervaded.
     "Hi," my shrill voice pierced the silence, "seem to be enjoying the solitude of the beautiful night?"
     The guy drowned in his thoughts, woke up to reality and seemed surprised as he replied "How do you 'enjoy' something? I don't understand what enjoyment is."
     "Come on, every species born on earth knows what enjoyment is! You fine?", I asked as I sat by his side on the cliff.
     "Well, I was not born on earth. And this is my first visit to earth."
     "What!? Come on, What do you mean?"
    "Well, maybe I should explain. When anyone dies on earth, they are either liberated or get trapped in a world between that of earth and that of liberation. A fulfilled life begets liberation while unfulfilled desires entrap you in the world between until they are fulfilled. Once the greatest of our desire gets fulfilled, we get liberation. I am from that world of between."
    "Hey, does that really exist? I thought that was all simply thoughts of fantasy?"
     "All existence too is a thought of fantasy. Wanna make sure what I say is true? Touch me but you shall not sense me!"
     And that was the surprise of a lifetime for me! He was simply visible, but beyond my sensory feel of touch. That sent a shock down my spine. The silence now felt had a tint of horror in it. The melody and rhythm simply vanished. Mustering courage, I asked "But is not it strange that the desire that entraps is the same desire that liberates?"
     "Yeah, it is. But, maybe liberation too is a kind of trap and it is desired simply because its nature is unknown. I don't know, we only know when we have been through it."
    "You sound profound. What is your desire and how come are you on earth now?"
   "Mine is a case of complication in the world of between. Most of the inhabitants there are born on earth, they have desires and get liberated once those desires get fulfilled. Unlike all of them, I was not born on earth. My mother was. She died in her pregnancy and I was born in the world of between. She got liberated the moment I was born because they told me her desire was to give birth to me. I grew up as an orphan who knew nothing of earth, nothing of the earthly desires. Since no desire exists in me and what does not exist can never be fulfilled, I am eternally bound to the world of between. I was sent to earth to understand what 'desire' is and to 'desire' something so that I too could be granted liberation once the 'desire' got fulfilled. By the way, maybe the profoundness you find in me is simply my lack of awareness of desire!"
     "Oh! That is a complicated background. I feel sorry for you."
     "But, why sorry? I do not understand."
   "Well, you need help. To understand 'desire' you will have to understand 'emotion' and to understand 'emotion' you will have to understand 'feelings'. Like the enjoyment I mentioned early on is an emotional response to certain feelings that are born in us. Once 'feelings' arise in you, 'emotions' too will appear and 'desire' shall follow soon."
     "That doesn't make much sense. Can you help me discover 'feelings' then?"
    I was reluctant. I myself had wondered many times if I was sure of the feelings I experienced. Never was I sure, except on deciding every time that I was simply confused. Maybe every one in my age is actually just confused! Gosh, what a situation was I in! A girl yet to understand her own feelings, I was now asked to help a guy, that too a kind of alien guy, discover his feelings! I could not say no to him, as I really felt sorry for him. Or was I being sympathetic to him? As I tried all through the night to help him understand what feelings were, I kept confusing myself and the guy. As we struggled to define the feeling of sympathy that was being born in me, I slowly realized feelings actually fluctuate. We met as a result of my curiosity, I decided to help him out of sympathy and now I enjoy his company because there is born friendship. Oh God, have anyone's feelings ever found ground?
     The night was beautiful and as I explored through the world of feelings and emotions, I understood how difficult it was to define feelings in the right way like striking the right note at the right time. Maybe feelings do not have apt definitions like how the tones of music can never be aptly defined by language. They can only be experienced, I suppose. I allowed him to experience the joy of sharing someone's company, the joy of talking to someone with open heart, the joy of being your own self without worrying about the perceptions the world around harbors about you, the joy of getting lost in your own self and the joy of discovering the soul of a friend.
     It was time for sunrise and I realised I was getting late and had to leave. I asked him if he did actually experience any feelings, he could name none. I had poured my entire heart into this guy and yet he could not feel? That sounded harsh to me, yet given his circumstance maybe I was over expecting. As I bid goodbye and drove back, I was feeling lost. Once we pour our heart out to someone, maybe it is impossible to be the same again. The mesmerizing beauty of the night, the excitement of explaining feelings to the guy, I guess I had stumbled across that special melody which sets in when everything would appear more beautiful. Maybe I miss him, maybe I crave for his company. What joy was it, that made me pour my heart out to an absolute stranger? An intimacy was born over a night with the stranger and there was a feel of happiness in every sound I heard. In the chirp of the bird, in the whistle of the breeze, in the fall of the dew, in the rustle of the leaves, in the whisper of the world! Maybe I am in love! Lost in the feel of happiness that the melody of love induces, I drove into the rushing traffic of the city and jammed into the vehicle ahead.
     Before I could realise, I was dead to the earth and found myself in the world of the between. Maybe love alone has this miraculous power to excite you when you should mourn! I was dead, yet extremely excited. I could meet the guy whom my heart loved, live with him in all joy I ever hoped. I rushed in search of him. On inquiring, I learnt he returned in the morning with tears. The first time he was seen in tears. He had been to earth in search of desire but returned with a strange unbearable feeling of burden. When prodded, it was learnt it was 'the pain', the source and end of all feelings, emotions and desires. The pain which he could not define why. Well, what could define love if not pain? He too was in love, though he knew not. He desired to have his loved one with him in his world.
     What immense pleasure to know that the feeling of love born in our heart for someone is simultaneously born in theirs too! My happiness knew no bounds. And what beauty was fate, we fell in love and fate killed me to bring into his world! He must be happy too. He knew not what desire was and the moment he desired me, I am here!
     But wait, the moment his desire was satisfied, he must be liberated out of the world of between. And I desire my love who is liberated and hence I stay entrapped in the world of between forever!? The desire that liberates is the same  that entraps?

My right to dream!

Picture credit: Elisa Ursalas Photography

No, not again.

Spare me this overdose.

Not again, someone else's dreams.

I do not want it.

I can not live with them.

Not again, someone else's dreams.

Burden me not.

Sick and tired, am I,

Of living someone else's dreams.

Thou, are older,

Agreed I lack your experience,

But yet, your dreams need not be mine.

Thou, are younger,

Agreed I lack your enthusiasm,

But yet, your dreams need not be mine.

Thou, are sharper,

Agreed I lack your intelligence,

But yet, your dreams need not be mine.

If thou can, please do

Help me discover my own dreams,

But no, not again force your dreams on me.

If thou can, please do

Help me analyze my own dreams,

But no, not again force your dreams on me.

If thou can, please do

Help me criticize my own dreams,

But no, not again force your dreams on me.

I too have dreams, I beg,

Thou value my dreams as you do yours,

Because my dreams are as mine as yours are yours.

Yes, this is indeed a prayer.

A prayer to restore my right to dream,

Because I too have sown the seeds of dreams.

And would love to live

On the fruits of my dreams, however bitter,

Because they are mine and always taste best to me.

Eyes: Windows to heart!

"The eyes are the windows to the heart", believing thus, the angel and the devil looked into each other's heart through the eyes and were surprised to find that deep in the heart of the devil, there existed an angel and deep in the heart of the angel, there existed a devil!!

Life - on the shore.

Picture credit: etsystatic.com

Life is all lived on the shore,

Waves strike one after the other.

A wave of pain, a wave of pleasure.

A wave of joy, a wave of sorrow.

Strike they, none know, in which order.

Nor does any of them remain for ever.

Fleeting are the waves, fleeting are thoughts.

They are bound to fleet, else they cease to exist.

Like the waves which wash and shape the pebbles,

So do these thoughts wash and shape our actions.

Life is all lived on the shore,

Waves strike one after the other.

ಸ್ನೇಹಕ್ಕೆ ಪ್ರೇಮವೇ ಅಪಚಾರ!?

ಮೋಡದಂಚಿನಿಂದ ಮೂಡಿ ಬರುವ ಚಂದಿರ

ತರುವ ಆ ನಿನ್ನ ಜೊತೆಗಿನ ನೆನಪು, ಅದೆಷ್ಟು ಸುಂದರ.

ನಿನ್ನ ನುಡಿಯ ನೆನೆದರೆ ಇಂದಿಗೂ ಕೋಗಿಲೆಯ ಇಂಚರ.

ಗೆಳತಿ, ಏಕೆ ನೀನಿಲ್ಲದೀ ಬಾಳು ಇಷ್ಟು ಬೇಸರ?

ನಮ್ಮ ನಡುವಿನ ಸ್ನೇಹವಾಗಿತ್ತದೆಷ್ಟು ಶಾಂತ-ಸುಮಧುರ,

ಮೋಹ ಕಾಮದ ಛಾಯೆಯಲಿ ನಲುಗಿ ಹೋಯಿತದು ತತ್ತರ.

ಸುಲಲಿತ ಸುಮನೋಹರ ಸ್ನೇಹಕ್ಕೆ ಪ್ರೇಮವೇ ಅಪಚಾರ!?

ಗೆಳತಿ, ಏಕೆ ತಂದೆವು ನಮ್ಮ ನಡುವೆ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ವಿಚಾರ?

ಹೂವೊಳಗಿನ ಹಣ್ಣಿನಂತೆ ಇಹದೆ ಸ್ನೇಹದೊಳು ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಆಗರ?

ಸದಾಶಯ ಸದ್ಭಾವನೆಗಳ ಸ್ನೇಹ - ಪರಿಶುದ್ಧ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಅವತಾರ,

ಆದರೂ ಸ್ನೇಹ-ಪ್ರೇಮದ ದ್ವಂದ್ವ ವಿಷಮ ವ್ಯೋಮದ ಶ್ರೀಕಾರ.

ಗೆಳತಿ, ಏಕೆ ಸಿಲುಕಿದೆವು ವ್ಯೋಮದೊಳು? ತಿಳಿಯದು ಪರಿಹಾರ!

Sachin, Jaane ki zid na karo...

          
     Ever wondered if truth is actually a dream? Ever found yourself in a position where you desperately wanted the fact to be confirmed false and simply kept waiting for it to happen, defying all logic? Yeah, we all would have experienced these in our childhood. But I found myself in similar situations over the past month. Not that my childhood is over, I am still a child in his 3rd decade!! But despite the fact of Tendulkar's retirement from ODI, it took almost one month, and an entire India-Pakistan series for me to half heartedly accept the fact.
       With the retirement of Tendulkar from ODIs, a part of my childhood is at jeopardy. He set his foot into ODIs in 1989, the year I was born. His first ODI century was hit in 1994, the year I entered schooling. And from then on, there has been no stopping. All my schooling in cricket was watching Tendulkar. Watching him hit those straight drives with wide open eyes, has to be one of the most cherished moments of my childhood. To me, Tendulkar resonates with my own dreams of victory and now I am anxious if my dreams will be orphaned?
      Our only family TV show back then, was when Tendulkar held fort. Mom and Dad, though were not cricket crazy, simply stopped in front of the TV screen to catch a glimpse of the phenomenon that brought life and joy to millions of sports lovers the world over. The agile Tendulkar, though short was fast and smart enough to fox the fielding side to pick a single though the ball remained within the crease. This one fact was something that always left my dad awe struck.
       I vividly remember that World cup Indo-Pak encounter in 2003. My Dad, never cricket crazy, got a call and he replied he could not come till Tendulkar stood strong in the crease! That innings was magical. That six into the stands set up the successful Indian chase. We talk of chases and we don't talk of that mammoth chase against Australia! He stood like a Gladiator that day, anchored the entire Indian batting line up and to every cricket fan, that was a victory in defeat! Chasing 350 against one of the finest teams in contemporary times, Tendulkar scored a legendary 175(141 balls) and proved why he was the master of the craft. Who in India will forget the first 200 in ODIs?
      Why only the milestones? Moments of exuberant cricketing genius fill my memory. That daring attempt to direct the ball over the slip cordon along its way to the fence, that ability to play lofted shots along the spin over the bowler, that flick of the wrists to guide the ball on the leg side, and my personal favorite - the straight drive. Oh, what maturity in that batting of his! That movement of his eyes as he read the ball pacing towards him, that sweet sound when the ball was hit from the middle of his bat, that humility in his celebration and the agony in us when the ball knocked off his stumps - Nahi boolunga mein, jab tak hai jaan, jab tak hai jaan!
      The tragedy of cricket in our country is that it is not a sport. As they say, it is more of a religion - a religion which thankfully remains above communalism. But is prone to most of the flaws that religions are subject to in India - extreme admiration, unreasonable loyalty, baseless beliefs, illogical expectations, bigotry. Every admirer of sports knows victory and defeat are inevitable to any mortal. But to most Indians, Tendulkar was always looked up as an exception. To us, he was the God of Cricket. Every time he took guard, we wanted him to score another century. If anyone has betrayed Tendulkar the most, then it is we, his own country men. We denied him any concession, at least those chances of failure, every mortal is entitled to. Yet, the great man was the most unlikely to loose cool and kept us entertained and educated us with his skills on field and behavior off field. We mounted such immense pressure on him that one single measure of his greatness lies is his composure, the finest among any contemporary sportsmen.
        Sachin's game was not one of passion, but of vigorous passion. There was energy to it, enthusiasm in it and over all a child like eagerness in it. He too has had his failures. The nervous nineties were something very characteristic of Tendulkar. He holds the record of maximum 90s too! At times, we have seen him being too edgy and scratchy. Maybe the 100th century will be best remembered for how scratchy an innings it was. Lean patches occur in the careers of the finest of the finest and Tendulkar too was no exception. The law of averages did catch up with the God of Cricket, I wonder if the supreme God himself is actually exempt from it? 
        Maybe the statistics and record books will paint varied pictures of the legend that Sachin was, but to a true sports lover it is not the number of records that bear his name against them, but it is some of the finest moments of cricketing joy that Tendulkar has given us to cherish that make him the legend we adore. In Indian mythology, it is believed that the only instance when time stopped was at the beginning of the Kurukshetra war when Krishna preached the Bhagavad Gita to Arjuna. The late Peter Roebuck wondered if there have been more of such instances because time stopped in India when the little master held fort in the peak of his form.
       Now, that he has announced his retirement from ODIs, I find my heart singing to him, one of Urdu poetry's finest poems pleading the loved one not to insist on leaving -

Aaj jaane ki zid na karo 

Yoon hi pehlu mein baittey raho
Aaj jaane ki zid na karo....

Tum hi socho zara Kyoon na rokey tumhe

Jaan jaati hai jab utt ke jaatey ho tum

Tumko apni kasam, jaane jaan

Baat itni meri maan lo....

Aaj jaane ki zid na karo

Yoon hi pehlu mein baittey raho..

(Don't insist on leaving tonight
Just sit by my side
Don't insist on leaving tonight...

Give it a thought, Why should not I withhold you?
My life departs as you rise to take leave of me
My love, swear by me
This small request of mine, agree to it...

Don't insist on leaving tonight
Just sit by my side....)