घर वापसी *

PC: http://www.millenniumpost.in

 

To those campaigns of religious conversions and reconversions,
Where I am afraid if in emphasizing an identity of religion
We deny ourselves the identity of being human.

* The recent campaigns of supposedly reconverting Muslims and Christians to Hinduism are being described as "ghar vapasi" (Returning back home)

घर वापस आने को घर भी तो हो अपना !
ना ईंट-ओ-पत्तर का, ना कौम-ओ-मज़हब का,
घर होता हैं प्यार-ओ-इज़्ज़त का, दिल-ओ-दर्द का।

  ना हो घर ऐसा तो बेहाल ज़िन्दगी बेघर ही सही ।

(To return back home, one should have a home of his own.
Not that of bricks and stones, Not that of community and religion,
A home is that of love and respect, that of heart and pain.
If home is not as such, miserable life at peace being homeless!)

The killing of God

© Jorge Royan / http://www.royan.com.ar / CC-BY-SA-3.0

In the haunting memory of those children who were inhumanely shot at Peshawar

" घर से मस्जिद है बहुत दूर चलो यूँ कर लें,
किसी रोते हुए बच्चे को हंसाया जाये "

                    - लखनऊ निदा फाजली

(The Mosque is far from home, come on let us do so,

Let us bring smile on the face of a crying child.)

I re-embraced faith

For I found God

In the smile of

An innocent child.

I denounce it again

For there is a devil

In the heart of men

That kills God at will.

सच्चाई क्या हैं?

आपकी दुनिया में हम कभी आ नहीं पायेंगे
हमारी दुनिया में आप कभी जी नहीं पायेंगे
हम दोनों यह हक़ीक़त को जानते जरूर हैं ।
फ़िर भी ये दीवाने दिल एक दूसरे के लिए
धडकते क्यों हैं, तड़पते क्यों हैं?
फ़िर भी ये अश्क़ भरे आँखे एक दूसरे के
राह देखते क्यों हैं, ख्वाब बुनते क्यों हैं?
फ़िर भी मेरे हर आहट में, हर चाहत में
तेरी परछाई क्यों हैं, आखिर सच्चाई क्या हैं?

(Into thy world, never can I come
In my world, never can thou live
Both of us do know this truth.
Yet why do these crazy hearts
Go restless, beat for one another?
Yet why do these tears filled eyes
Long for arrival and knit dreams?
Yet in the whisper of every step
And in every single desire of mine
Why is there a shadow of yours?
At the end, what actually is the truth?)

मुहब्बत के दर्द

 

PC: Kotresh HR

"The loss of love is a terrible thing;
They lie who say that death is worse."
- Countee Cullen

वो जो कभी मेरी रूँह की साँस थी
आज बस एक याद की परछाई हैं।
वो जो अभी मेरे दिल की धड़कन हैं
कल बस एक खयाल ही बन बचेगी।
लेकिन जैसे तब न साँस रोक पाया था
वैसे अब दिल की धड़कन न रोक पा रहा।
गुज़रे बिन रिहा कहाँ मुहब्बत के दर्द से?

(She who was once the breath of my soul
Is today only a shadow of memory. 

She who is now the beat of my heart
Will also one day remain only a thought.
But like how I couldn't stop breathing then
I am not able to stop my heart from beating now. 
Without having undergone, how is one 

                             liberated from the pain of love?)

Sea in shades of red

As the setting Sun paints the sea in shades of red,
For a fleeting moment, its blue the sea does shed.
I realize neither is the sea blue nor the Sun red,
An awareness leaves all my false fantasies dead!

Very next moment questions raise from the dead.
If fantasies are false, is awareness ascertained?
Visions and illusions - mere loafs of the same bread.
Between fantasies and awareness is truth all fazed!

The Gardener

PC: Kotresh H R

     "Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life."  - Parker Palmer

    He must be over seventy, though I did not ask him how old he was. He played a dual role. He was the gardener and the guard of the garden. He has been so for over two decades now. He dons these roles on behalf of the appointed government employees who pay him a part of their salary and visit once a while to cater to the paper work. This ad-hoc adjustment, an innovation at the lower rungs of Indian bureaucratic machinery, has existed in varying fashions. He recounts how he has been in and out of this work depending on the preference of those who are actually appointed to these posts. His pay is at their discretion, though in the recent years he thinks he is usually paid enough to sustain himself. 

     As we sit in the shade of the trees, he has watered and nourished these trees for over a score of years now, I ask him what he feels of the career he has built for himself. I get back an empty stare. He doesn't know what a career is. How foolish of me to ask so! To him, it is life. Not career. I curse my stupid obsession with careers. I am again reminded of what Cheryl Strayed wrote - "Don't lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don't have a career. You have a life."

       While I was framing questions in my mind, he sat silent. It seemed as though in silence he had found solace. He only replied, did not speak much. I didn't know what to ask of his job, though it had very much captured my interest. I was not sure if I could actually ask him of his job satisfaction. I finally asked him if he never looked for any other job during these years or was it like he loved gardening? Again a stare! But this time, he did open up. He explained - "I did look for jobs in the early years but this turned out to be easy and also paid me to a decent extent. After doing it for so many years, it has become part of my routine. Nothing like loving gardening but neither do I have problems with it." Silence again. 

       I felt the conversation was going nowhere. I was about to take his leave. But he began to speak again, this time by his own initiative - "You know, most of them who talk to me talk of the garden, the plants, the flowers, the rains and so on. Few talk of me and my job. Those who do, roughly fall into two categories. One, those who say I am lucky to be in this beautiful garden, such a beautiful job. Others pity my condition. They feel I am caged and chained in this lonely place for all my life. These all do raise questions in me. If I was timid not to explore the world or if I was lucky to tend to the garden? If I was lazy to find better prospects of earning? What if I would be thrown out when the next transfer takes place and the new employee may choose not to be my employer?"

"So the questions still haunt you?"

"Not actually. Now I am at peace."

"Oh, so you did find answers to those questions!"

"No, I have realized not all questions need to be answered."

Once an ocean...

PC: http://psalmoines.com

और भी दुःख हैं ज़माने में मुहब्बत के सिवा

राहतें और भी हैं वस्ल की राहत के सिवा
मुझ से पहली सी मुहब्बत मेरे महबूब न माँग !

                                            - Faiz Ahmed Faiz

(Other pains too exist in the world, beyond love.

Pleasures too than that of the union of lovers.
Ask me not, my Beloved, for that love, I once had.)

     Once upon a time, like in those classic fairy tales, "love" happened. And then as in the stark reality of human existence, "life" happened.

     Years later when we both met, she stared into my eyes. She told me though there were traces of love, she could not find that ocean of love that I once had in me for her.

     I told her the ocean of love was for what she then was and not for what she now is.

     She corrected me when she said her concern was not if the ocean of love is still there for her, but that she could not find the ocean at all.

     I told her the ocean of love was in him who I then was and not in him who I now am.

     She asked me what happened to the ocean which was so vast and majestic.

     I told her the traces that she found now in me were what was back then the ocean.

     She was surprised and asked me how was it possible that the vast ocean of those days now seemed to be only traces.

     I told her maybe like me, she too had drowned in that ocean of life, the awareness of whose infiniteness shakes our perspectives so much so that what seemed oceans then, seem to be mere traces now.

Beautiful flower?

PC: Myself!!

Neither am I what I look, nor am I what you see!!

"The red flower looks so beautiful."

"The flower which emits red color looks so beautiful."

"It is a red flower."

"It is a flower which emits red color."

"It is because I see it in red, I call it a red flower."

"It is because it rejects red and absorbs all other colors, I call it a flower that emits red."

............

As the angel and the devil were obsessed in associating the identity of the flower to the red they perceived in different senses, a bee listening to their conversation laughed at how blind they were in calling a flower, devoid of patterns as beautiful!!

____________________________

 

Bees are red-blind. The visible spectrum, for a bee, stretches from 650 mu to 300 mu, so it can distinguish only four different colors in the visible spectrum: yellow, blue-green, blue, and ultraviolet. #

The patterns of flowers are thought to attract bees to flowers. *

#http://www.sewanee.edu/Chem/Chem%26Art/Detail_Pages/ColorProjects_2003/Crone/index.htm

*http://www.rit-mcsl.org/fairchild/WhyIsColor/Questions/5-3.html 

Spade call!!

Original Picture: Paul Reynolds (Flickr: Reflection) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

When a spade calls a spade a spade, does it realize it can possibly be staring into the mirror?

A daughter in confusion.

Picture Credit: http://wp.production.patheos.com/

Mom,
      I write this to you in a state of confusion. You have always been my never failing support system - always there for me. Especially after Dad expired, you have been both Mom and Dad to me.
      Now that I am 25 and as most Indian moms in this situation, you are busy looking at marriage alliances for me. But a thought haunts me deep down in my heart. Despite the optimism you have imbibed in me, I am cynical in this matter.

     I know most of the alliances you have looked till now have rejected us because in most cases either I am more qualified than the guy or I am professionally better placed than him. Despite all the claims of modernity of our society, we still expect the wife to be inferior to the husband in certain parameters as such. To generalize one profession to be better than another totally unrelated profession is at best ignorance. How fair to compare a doctor and a teacher and conclude all doctors are professionally better placed than teachers? Or is it actually true in a society which values professions on subjective perspectives and social opinions?
      Well, though that does trouble me, it is not the cause of the trauma that I undergo. These perspectives I hope will gradually change with the society realizing that qualifications and professions are not true measures to assess a person. Well for that matter, nothing is a precise measure to assess a person!
      The larger contradiction that haunts me is why is that only a girl has to worry about leaving behind her family and going to her husband's place? Do boys ever undergo the trauma of this thought whenever the issue of their marriage is raised? To say this is how it works in a patrilineal society is no cure to the agony of my heart.
       Every time you talk of my marriage, it haunts within me that I have to leave you - my mom, the house I grew up in - my home.... Can't I get married and yet stay back with you? Or still better, can't two entire families, as the circumstance be, come together in a marriage instead of two individuals coming together and only one of them sacrificing a lot? I agree such things do happen today, but only if the guy and the family are considerate enough. But how do we girls know if they are considerate enough? Talk to them, ask them, put your point across, communicate... Hahaha!!!
      Mom, will there ever be a day when girls like me staring into the entanglement of uncertainty will be spared of the trauma of the thought of leaving behind their families just because a decision made them part of another family? A decision that very subtly deprives girls of a lot of what is inexplicable.
Or Mom, am I just being a frustrated girl whose marriage has not happened yet and who unnecessarily thinks too much?

Yours loving,
A daughter in confusion.

A river am I

PC: Myself!!

A river am I.

I flow, I fall.

Am on pursuit.

Not of the safe shores,

But of the majestic ocean -

The womb of the unknown!

To the darkness..

To the majestic darkness of the towering mountains        
PC: Kotresh H R

To the darkness*....

To the dusty darkness of the countryside, where
Mothers saddened by the pains of separation,
Curse their fate for being born into poverty and
Lack of opportunity that drove their children away.

To the haunting darkness of secluded valleys,
Where girls widowed by the tyranny of time,
Trust darkness alone with all their emotions
Since it blames not the living for the dead.

To the rich darkness of lonely nights, where
Virgins intoxicated by the touch of first love,
Bury the shy of daylight to discover themselves,
Knit dreams, fantasize & let reason to the winds!

To the dim darkness of metro underbellies, where
Idealists disillusioned by the refusal for reforms,
Contemplate the relevance of adhering to ideals
In a despotic system that rewards the miscreants.

To the brilliant darkness of the citadels of wisdom,
Where poets of progress decry darkness so as to
Elevate light to Utopian heights, create metaphors
And distance themselves from undeniable dark truths.

To the melancholy darkness of tangled streets,
Where Youths rendered rebellious by stark injustice
Raise their voice in protest against the opaque
Only to be silenced deep within their own darkness.

To the majestic darkness of the towering mountains,
Where travelers caught off guard on any dark night
Confess all their deep secrets and vulnerabilities to
Strangers who in the dark gain a mystic intimacy.

To the betraying darkness of broken promises,
Where theists and atheists alike bewildered by life
Beyond the reach of either reason or rationality
Seek solace in a meaningless chaotic universe.

* Inspired by Faiz Ahmed Faiz's incomplete poem 'Intisaab' (Dedication), and Rekha Bharadwaj's soulful rendition of a part of it as 'Aaj ke naam' for the movie 'Haider'

मंज़िल-ए-मौत

PC: Myself!!

मंज़िल तो मौत की होती हैं,

ज़िन्दगी के बस मोड होते हैं |

(Destination is for death to bother about,

Life is just filled with twists and turns.)

Hangs over Damocles?

Sword of Damocles, Richard Westall via Wikimedia Commons

As a child, I fell often, wounding myself.

It would bleed red, I would scream in pain,

The world around cared, rushed to aid.

Mom would tell me time heals all wounds.

As a youth, I fell, not that often, but less.

It would bleed deep within, I cried in vain,

World largely unheard, Bit of care, little aid.

Love had taught me time wounds all heals.

As an adult, I fell, but I had learnt to raise.

It would bleed? I neither screamed nor cried,

Neither did I care for the world nor its aid.

Life reasoned what time doesn't heal, it numbs.

As an old man, I know I will fall, inevitable fate.

Unexempt, bleed they all - body, heart, mind, soul.

The world, its care and aid - sins of mortal mind!

What time can't numb, it hangs over Damocles!?

Observations

PC: Myself!!

Few sympathize my tears, Few complement the sparkle.
It is only a speck of dust that has left me misty eyed.

The Angel and the Devil were out in the forest. Employing all their skills of reasoning and experience, they were noting down their observations.
One wrote - "She is too very emotional. She sheds tears in pain, unable to bear the Sun's wrath!"
The other wrote - "She is so rational. She sparkles, determined as she stands strong in the Sun!"

Flower and thorn.

PC: Myself!!

The angel and the devil were on a trip to the countryside.
"What do you see?"
"The flowers. You?"
"The thorns."
"So what do you think it is?"
"Because I see the thorns, I think it has to be thorns."
"But I see flowers, doesn't it make it the flowers then?"

किसीको फूल लगता हूँ, किसीको काँटा;

पर असल मे मैं तो हूँ बस एक पौधा।

(I am perceived as a flower by few and a thorn by few;

But in reality I am only a plant.)

सज़ा-ए-आशिक़ी

PC: Myself!!

"The reality of love is mutilated when it is detached from all its unrealness." - Gaston Bachelard

ना चाँद की तारीफ़ कर सकते हैं ,
ना चाँदिनी को कर सकते हैं हम बरदाश्त।
ये सज़ा-ए-आशिक़ी नहीं, तो क्या हैं?
ना रात गुज़रना हो मंज़ूर, ना धुंध बरदाश्त।

(Neither can I afford to appreciate the moon,

Nor is it possible for me to endure moonlight.

If this is not the wrath of passion, what is it?

Neither do I consent the night to depart,

Nor can I bear the darkness*!)

* धुंध can mean either mist or darkness or confusion. All these meanings are intended in this context.

The closer, the farther!

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." 

- T. S. Eliot

PC: Myself!!

हम जहाँ  से भाग निकले थे, शायद उसी मंज़िल की ओर भाग चले हैं। 

(Where we raced away from, probably that very destination we are racing towards.)

       The angel and the devil were getting closer. Probably they were going farther apart.
"The closer we get, we realize how far we have arrived."
"The closer we get, we realize how far we have receded"
"The closer I get to my goal, I am able to understand it better."
"And that understanding leads me to question if this was the goal I dreamed?"
"The closer I get to my loved one, I get to know the details."
"And those details raise the question if it was this very person that I loved?"
"The closer I get to those I admire, I experience the aura they exude."
"And that short lived aura reveals their flaws and frailties, rendering that human too in flesh, blood and skin!"
"The closer I get......"
"...... the farther I remain."

The promise of adventure

Picture Credit: Kotresh H R

I know not where these steps lead to, its all dizzy.
I know not how far these steps exist, its all misty.
I know not if it is even an ascent or a descent,
Neither do these trees, nor the wind hint a thing.
Yet in this moment, the stairs lure me with a promise -
The promise of adventure, the promise of learning.
What else does an explorer need to take the flight?

How I wish...

PC: Myself!!

"तुम इतना जो मुस्कुरा रहे हो, क्या गम है जिसको छुपा रहे हो 

आँखों में नमी, हँसी लबों पर, क्या हाल है, क्या दिखा रहे हो"

- कैफी आझमी 
(That you are smiling so much, What pain is it that you are hiding?
Moisture in the eyes, smile on the lips, What state is it, what are you depicting?)


Dear friend, When you casually call me up on a rainy night
And as you ask me of my well being and assure you are fine,
How I wish my heart was deaf to your voice that trembled.
As you blabber of the joy and prosperity that fills your life,
How I wish my brain was dumb to believe all that you said.
As you laugh out loud on a silly joke that made no sense,  
How I wish my ears were blind to the tears in your eyes.
As your soul cried out in despair and shared it all unsaid,
How I wish my soul could soothe & listen to your psyche.

Destinations: Stars of the night!

PC: Dan James, http://exmoor4all.com/2013/04/10/starry-starry-night/

These destinations are probably stars of the night.

From the far earth, they seem to be shining bright!

If one makes the audacious journey all the way,

They are boulders and dust simply burning away!

The efforts, the hardships, the journey - all astray?

An ability is acquired. To fly - fly free and fly high!

Liberal candles of democracy!!

         

   

 

"Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself." - Desiderius Erasmus

      It was dark all around. Darkness was spreading at an alarming pace. The world, it was rumored, would plunge into darkness. The spirit was afraid the rumor was coming true. 

     Most candles found it wise to submit to darkness. Here and there, few candles which believed in the power of light chose otherwise.

"Why do you choose to burn?", the spirit asked.

"I choose to glow because that is what makes me a candle", it replied.

"How long?"

"As long as I can."

"What if the harsh winds that accompany darkness put you off?"

"I glow as long as I am capable."

"Like the individual liberal citizens who live by democracy!"

"What else can I do?"

"Is it not possible that the candles like you, who choose to glow, acquire the larger identity of fire?"

"What purpose will that serve?"

"So that the harsher the wind gets, the stronger the fire grows."

"But doesn't the fire burn down the world?"

25, who am I?

PC: Myself

       I remember talking to her three years ago. She had just finished her graduation in Engineering. She was my junior by a year at the college. She spoke of her plans for the future, her dreams, her ambitions. An engineer who wished to design a sustainable world, an artist who aspired to voice the voiceless through the medium of her art.
       Now when this lady claims she is the same girl, I am actually perplexed. That girl who debated with such fervor and passion for simple and frugal lifestyle is this lady who on a casual evening outing is dressed up like a burdened Indian bride on procession!? While she speaks with animated excitement of her husband's car, care and concern, I wonder where the girl, who aspired for an identity of her own, is lost. During the college days, I remember how enthusiastic and assertive she was. Eager to know, eager to understand. Has the genesis of the lady in her, killed that girl who she once was? The girl who dared to dream, who dared to question, who dared to experiment, who dared to explore avenues and opportunities.
      I have no complaints about the lady she is. It is her life, her tastes, her choices. I respect all of that. My only worry is the girl she once was. Where did that girl vanish? In which dark corner of her psyche did she bury her, if she did so? And every time she talks about her present life, why is she displaying a sense of abundance? Is she unconsciously trying to convey that the loss of her dreams is compensated by the gain of material abundance? She was an engineer, bright enough to know that the increase in y doesn't necessarily balance out the decrease in x, because they are not always part of the same equation!
     Maybe I am reading too much into the situation. Maybe it is all the pessimism within me; problem with my own preoccupied world view. I don't know the complete picture. I am probably jumping to conclusions despite lack of awareness. It is perfectly possible that her new found marital bliss and prosperity will eventually aid her dreams. Or better, maybe she can redesign her dreams. Who knows? What doesn't evolve, gets eliminated.
        But still, she was probably 23 last year, when she got married. 24 this year, about to be a mother. With due respects to the institution of marriage and the sanctity of motherhood, I can't stop wondering what would she answer herself if next year she happens to introspect - "25. Who am I?" I pray the answer this lady finds will not disappoint the girl she once was.

Confessions

 

Picture Credit: Myself!!
Person in the pic: Again myself:) !!

The angel and the devil were confessing their dark deep secrets to each other.
"You ever felt love. I have"
"I too have. How about lust?"
"Yeah, that too. Empathy?"
"Not sure how often, but yes. Greed?"
"Rarely, but not that rarely also. Kindness?"
"Something of that sort, often. Selfishness?"
"Kind of guiding motive. Compassion?"
"At times. Desire to exercise authority?"
"Usually when endowed with authority. Responsibility?"
"Whenever I have understood its significance. .....?"
"............................................................?"
"............................................................?"
...............
..............
..........
......
...
..
"If we both experience all these, then why is it that one of us is the angel and the other devil?"
"Are you really sure who amongst us is the devil and who the angel?"

Kiss me back to life!

PC: Myself!

Along the corridors of curiosity,

I wish I had remained a child.

Overlooked by time, Frozen.
All those years in pure joy,
Unadulterated anticipation.
My angel, my fairy godmother,
Lead me back in time
And kiss me back to life!!

ಕ್ಷಣಭಂಗುರ ಹನಿಯೊಂದರಲಿ

Pic credit: Myself!!

ಕಣ್ರೆಪ್ಪೆ ಮಿಟುಕಿದಷ್ಟೇ ಕ್ಷಣಿಕ
ತುಂತುರು ಹನಿ ಅಸ್ತಿತ್ವ.

ಮುತ್ತಿನಂತೆ ಹನಿ ಮೂಡುವುದು
ಬರಿ ಭೌತಿಕ ಆಕಸ್ಮಿಕ.
ಮೂಡಿ ಮಿನುಗಿದ ಆನಂತರ
ಒಡೆವುದದು ಅನಿವಾರ್ಯ.

ಮೂಡುವಲ್ಲಿ ಮುಗ್ಧ ನಗುವು,
ಬೀಳುವಲ್ಲಿ ಭವ್ಯ ಬೈರಾಗಿ,
ಬಿದ್ದು ಒಡೆಯುವಲ್ಲಿ ಬುದ್ಧನಂತೆ
ಪ್ರಶಾಂತ ಪ್ರಕಾಶಮಾನ!

ಕ್ಷಣಭಂಗುರ ಹನಿಯೊಂದರಲಿ
ಚಿತ್ರಿಸಿಹಳಾ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿ
ಸಮಚಿತ್ತದ ಸಮ್ಯಕ ಚಿತ್ರಣ,
ಸತ್ಯದ ಅನಾವರಣ!

(As momentary as the blink of an eye -
Existence of the drizzling driblet.

Like a pearl, the driblet when it forms -
Only an earthly accident.

Once it is formed and sparkles bright,
Inevitable its destruction.

In its formation, exudes an innocent smile.
During the fall, a sublime mendicant.
As it falls and breaks, like the Buddha,
Peaceful, beyond brilliance!

In the evanescent existence of the driblet,
I wonder, if has painted nature
The complete picture of equanimity
Unveiling the essential truth!)

Our solace

 

On a May afternoon, at the gardens around Qutb Minar, Delhi (Picture Credit: Myself!!)

"In a world we can never decipher to the last detail, maybe moments of ambiguity and chaos are our only solace."

अनकही बातें जो अनसुने रहगये

ये इंतज़ार के लम्हे जाने कब ख़तम होंगे ?
क्या पता अशआर के मानी कब क्या होंगे ?
कभी इन लफ़्ज़ों में मुझे तुम दिखते हो
काश कभी इनमें तुझे मै भी दिख जाऊं ।

ना हो ऐसे, लेकिन अगर वक़्त के सितम में
तुझ तक ना पहुँच पाए पैगाम मेरे दोस्ती के
हे दोस्त मेरे, इन्ही अलफ़ाज़ो में तुम सुन लेना
मेरे वो सारे अनकही बातें जो अनसुने रहगये।

(These moments of wait, who knows when will they end? 

Who knows when these verses will acquire what meanings?
Sometimes in these phrases, I happen to see thou,
Wish sometimes in these, I too am visible to thou.

Hope it doesn't happen so, but if in the tyranny of time
Is not delivered to thou my message of friendship;
O friend of mine, in these very words do thou listen
All my untold thoughts, which have remained unheard.)

Meaning of it all?

       

 

        On the sea shore, lit by the moonlight of the night, sat the old man with his grand son. They were exhausted, it had been a hectic day's work on the boat. Battling the waves, they had ventured deep only to be humbled by the vastness of her majesty, the ocean. As if the serenity of the seemingly infinite vastness had sneaked into them, they both sat muted as though being personifications of silence.

      Breaking away from the spell of silence that had engulfed them, the grandson asked his grandfather - "I am mesmerized by the harmony with which you lead your life. How is it possible? Have you deciphered the meaning of it all?"

"The meaning of what all?"

"This entire existence? The highly intricate and entangled lives that we lead? The sophisticated global civilization that we are part of? The seemingly infinite tasks that we everyday engulf ourselves with?"

"I do not know what you are talking about!"

"To me, your life looks so fulfilled. It is like a divine melody flowing uninterrupted."

"It is the way you look at it."

"But still, to be able to live such a happy life, you should have understood life?"

"To live a happy life, you should live your life happily. What has understanding got to do with it?"

सवाल का जवाब

Pic Courtesy: Myself!!

चाहते तो हम चाँद को ज़रूर हैं,
लेकिन हर चाहत पूरी भी नहीं होती।
मुस्कराते तो ये फूल ज़रूर हैं,
लेकिन हर मुसकराहट ख़ुशी की नहीं होती।

अब आप चाँद हैं या फूल, 

दिल में ये सवाल ज़रूर हैं।

लेकिन माफ़ करना दिलरूबा, 

हर सवाल का जवाब भी नहीं होता।

(Certain is that I desire the moon,
But not every desire is fulfilled.
Certain is that these flowers smile,
But not every smile is of happiness.

Now, are thou the moon or the flower, 

Certainly the question does persist.

But do pardon me, the love of my heart, 

Not every question always has an answer.)

The promise of Democracy

"Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better than we deserve."

- George Bernard Shaw

I am twenty-five.

High on hopes and dreams.

Yet never spared of

My share in pains and rains.

I now wish not for wings,

As I used to in the past.

I now wish,

At least someday in the future

We shall be capable to nurture

Our hard earned Democracy

And the true spirit it enshrines.

To be able to listen,

To be able to reason,

To be able to pardon,

To be able to condemn -

All this with deserved precaution

In the interest of the nation.

Unprejudiced, Never partisan.

To be able to think,

To be able to appreciate,

To be able to criticize,

To be able to exercise

Our own judgment & discretion,

Guided by reason & information.

To stay strong despite loud propaganda,

In favor of the nation's welfare agenda.

Because like the old Zen adage

That the master appears only

When the student is ready,

Maybe the promise of democracy

Is awaiting to be fulfilled only

By conscious participation of

                "a deserving citizenry"!

(Published in 'The Hindu', here)

Blind or Crazy?

 

Street art in Berlin (Pic Credit: http://www.irishberliner.com/2010/04/street-art-berlin.html)

"In a world that would offer me only two choices - either being blind or going crazy, I would prefer to go crazy."

ಕಾರಣಕ್ಷಾಮದಿ ನಿಂತಿಹನು ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ?

ಮೂಲ ಚಿತ್ರ ಕೃಪೆ: www.pixelshooter.net

ಸರ್ವದಿಗ್ವಿಜಯಿ ಅಗ್ರಜ ಭರತ
ವಿಶ್ವಮಾನ್ಯನೂ, ಕೀರ್ತಿವಂತನೂ.
ಜಗವೆಲ್ಲ ಪಾದದಡಿ ತಲೆಬಾಗಲು
ಪಾದಕ್ಕೆರಗುವ ಔಚಿತ್ಯ ಪ್ರಶ್ನಿಸಿದ
ಕಾರಣಕರಣಿ ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ!

ಮಲ್ಲಯುದ್ಧ, ದೃಷ್ಟಿಯುದ್ಧ
ಹೆಸರಿಸಿದೆಲ್ಲ ಯುದ್ಧಗಳಲ್ಲೂ
ಪರಾಕ್ರಮಿ, ವಿಜಯ ವಿಕ್ರಮ
ವಿಜಯದ ಪರಿಭಾಷೆ ವಿಶ್ಲೇಷಿಸಿದ
ಸ್ವಾನುಭವಿ ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ!

ರಾಜಾಧಿರಾಜ ಮಹಾರಾಜರೊಳು
ವಿರಾಜಿಸದೆ ತನ್ನೆಡೆಗೆ ಸನ್ನದ್ದ
'ಭಟಖಡ್ಗಮಂಡಲೋತ್ಫಲ ಭ್ರಮರಿ
ರಾಜ್ಯಲಕ್ಷ್ಮಿ'ಯ ನಶ್ವರತೆ ವ್ಯಾಖ್ಯಾನಿಸಿದ
ಧೀಯೋಗಿ ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ!

ತನ್ನದೇ ಇಹುದೆಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬಂತಿರಲು
ಇಹುದೆಲ್ಲವನ್ನೂ ತನ್ನದಲ್ಲವೇ ಅಲ್ಲ
ಎಂದು ಅಚಲ ಸ್ಥಿತಪ್ರಜ್ಞೆಯಿಂದ
ನಿರಾಕರಿಸಿ ಹೊರಟ ಸರ್ವಪರಿತ್ಯಾಗಿ
ಬೈರಾಗಿ ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ!

ತ್ಯಾಗ, ವಿವೇಚನ-ವಿಶ್ಲೇಷಣ ದುರ್ಲಭ, 

ಅಂಧಾನುಕರಣ - ಭೋಗಧಿಕ ಆಚರಣ, 

ನಿತ್ಯ ಅಭ್ಯಂಜನ, ಸಹಿಸಿ ಮೂಕ ವೇದನ,

ಇಂದಿನ ಕಾರಣಕ್ಷಾಮದಿ ನಿಂತಿಹನೇನೋ
ಕಲ್ಲಾಗಿ ಬಾಹುಬಲಿ?

ಹೃದಯದ ವಿಕ್ರಯ!

ಮೊದಲಲಿ ಪರಿಚಯ,

ಸಹಚರ, ಸಂಗಡ -

ಸ್ನೇಹದ ಅಂಕುರ!

ಅಭಿರುಚಿ ಸಂಚಯ,

ಭಾವ ಸಮನ್ವಯ,

ಅಭಿಮಾನದ ಉದಯ!

ಸಾತತ್ಯ ಸಮಯ;

ಆದರೂ ಗೆಳೆಯ

ಅರಿಯನು ಎಂದಾಗಿತ್ತೋ

ಹೃದಯದ ವಿಕ್ರಯ!!

To be free is to be bound?

"To be free is to be bound.

Bound not by force,

But bound by choice!"

The angel and the devil were pitted in a duel.
"I am bound, chained. I yearn for freedom."
"I doubt if we are free only when we are bound?"
"I am bound to this daily work. No sight of freedom."
"I sense freedom, financial and social, only when I secure a job."
"I am bound to relationships. Fell in love and lost freedom."
"I sense freedom and a serene joy as I flow through love."
"I am overcrowded with information. Learn, learn, learn, when do I think for myself?"
"I sense freedom when I submerge myself in the world of thoughts. The more I learn, the better I think."
"So, what do you mean? I don't sense freedom?"
"Do you actually sense being bound?"

Walk through my dreams

Painting by Archana Sharma

Hand in hand, walk through my dreams

 And let me into the world of your dreams.

As I explore your dreams, I too evolve and

To discover my dreams is to discover me.

When we knit dreams together for the future

We shall know what one gave up for the other.

Call me neither a romantic nor a dreamer,

None is only that and none is exempt too.

I too am aware that to dream of love alone

Is to be blind to the many wonders of life.

But to not dream of love is to deny oneself

Of a beautiful ecstasy of human experience.

Not all those dreams are meant to be pursued.

Few dreams are best left only to be dreamt of,

Like distant stars, forest flowers, flawless life.

To attain them is to strip them off their magic,

Rendering them real only ruins their sparkle.

To reknit them in thy company is true miracle.

Rational or Emotional?

 
The game was on. The angel and the devil were fighting it out.
"Rational"
"Emotional"
"Rational"
"Emotional"
"Rational"
"Emotional"
"Being emotional without being rational deprives you of clarity."
"Being rational without being emotional deprives you of humanity."

ಕಾಡುಮೊಗ್ಗಾಗಿ...

 

ಮೂಲ ಚಿತ್ರ ಕೃಪೆ: http://wallpaperswide.com/spring_forest_flowers-wallpapers.html

(ಈ ಕವಿತೆ,

ಗೆಳತಿಯ ಗೆಳತಿಯ ಗೆಳತಿಗೆ -

ಸಾವನು ಜಯಿಸಿದ ಆಕೆಯ ಬಾಳೊಲ್ಮೆಗೆ !!)

ನಾನು ಬಾಲೆ,

ಸಬಲೆ ಅಬಲೆಯರ 

ಬಲೆಗೆ ಬಲಿಯಾಗ 

ಬಯಸದ ಬಾಲೆ.

ಕಿತ್ತು, ಕಡಿವ 

          ಕ್ರೌರ್ಯದಾಚೆ 

ನೀರೆರೆದು, ನೆಳಲೀವ

      ನೆರವಿನಾಚೆ

ವನವಾಸಿಯಂತೆ

ವನಸುಮದ ತೆರದಿ

ಕಾಡುಮೊಗ್ಗಾಗಿ,

ಅರಳಿ ಹೂವಾಗಿ,

ಬಾಡಿ, ಮುದುಡಿ,

ಬಾಳ್ಸಂಭ್ರಮದಿ

ಮಿಂದೋಡುವೆನು;

ನನ್ನ ಸರಿಸರದಿ ನನಗಿರಲು,

ನನ್ನ ಪಾಡಿಗೆ ನಾನು.

ನಾನು ಬಾಲೆ,

ಸಬಲೆ ಅಬಲೆಯರ 

ಬಲೆಗೆ ಬಲಿಯಾಗ 

ಬಯಸದ ಬಾಲೆ.

The wait.

Pic Credit: Kotresh H R

The angel and the devil were staring into the seeming infiniteness of the path.
"How long should we wait?"
"I don't know."
"You think we will have a reply?"
"I hope so."
"Do all questions have answers?"
"I don't know."
"Does God know the answer?"
"I hope so."
"Are answers actually necessary?"
 "I don't know."
........
.....
"Does he really exist?"
"Maybe she does."

The plight

   

     The angel and the devil look into each other's eyes and realize none has an answer yet. So they dive deep into their ocean of thought. They ponder and wonder, yet fail to render an adequate response. They shake heads in disagreement with themselves.

     Again, they look into each other's eyes and realize none has an answer yet. So again they dive deep into their ocean of thought. They ponder and wonder, yet fail to render an adequate response. They shake heads in disagreement with themselves.

     Again, they look into each other's eyes and realize none has an answer yet......

.........

.........

     Such has been their plight since they were posed the question - "If I consider myself as non-judgmental, am I not actually being judgmental?"

Farce

Guy Fawkes mask: Truth, Protest or Farce?

Is it all a farce?
What seems is not what is
And what is, is not what seems.
A veil, a mask or skin -
How do I decipher?
Is it already deciphered?
What were once believed to be foundations,
Now I find myself question their existence.
All I perceive is chaos and only confusion.

I wish I could travel back in time,
Be the child I once was -
Jump in joy and sing in rhyme,
Aloof of truth and false,
Away from all this farce.

दरिया-ए-दिल पे अश्कों के अंगारे !

Pic Courtesy: http://31.media.tumblr.com/d57276a1f75b927066f02a5b42413fe2/tumblr_mqzdp7XoMY1rsqn0qo1_400.jpg

"We cry not because love is over.

But because, though it is over, it still lingers."

रंग-ओ-राज़ के थे लम्हे, जब महफूज़ थे हम

               मोहब्बत के खयालों में।

बेबस, बेखुदी थी, जब मिला तौफ़ा-ए-ग़म

               बे अश्फ़ाक़ आशिकी में ।

बदल गया आलम, गुमनाम बनके रहगए है हम

               वक्त के सितम में ।

हाल हमारा आजकल बेउल्फ़त बेज़बान सी हैं

               मगर बेज़ार नहीं ज़िन्दगी से,

यादें बीते लम्हों के जैसे शहद के छत्ते 

               न छेड़ना कभी गलती से ।

न तड़पता है दिल हमारा अब बनके सहरा

               आपके एक झलक के वास्ते,

फ़िर भी न जाने क्यों आते है आप कभी कभी

               हमारे ख्वाबों के किनारे ?

मन ही मन कांपते है हम, कही फ़िर न बरसे

               दरिया-ए-दिल पे अश्कों के अंगारे !

(Moments colorful and secretive, when I was safe
Lost in thoughts of love.
Helpless was passion when I received the gift of pain
In love devoid of kindness.
World has changed, now I live almost anonymous,
In the tyranny of time.
These days I am more in silence, more in solitude,
But not in regret with life.
Memories of moments past, are like beehives,
Never to irk even by mistake.
No more does my life yearn as if like a desert,
To catch a glimpse of you.
Yet I know not why at times you pay a visit
To the banks of my dreams.
Trembling within, I am afraid if again will rain
On the river of heart, flames of tears.)

I see light

I see light
Not at the end of the tunnel,
But deep down in thy heart.

I see light
Not in the sparkle of distant star,
But in the gleam of thy eyes.

I see light
Not across the mountains where Sun rises,
But in the spirit with which thou fight.

I see light
Not in the far off invisible divinity,
But in the hope of thy humanity.

I see light
In thou my brother, thou my neighbor,
Thou my beloved, thou my friend.

Battle does persist?

 

Pic Credit: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2202574/Missionary-photos-early-1900s-life-China-years-imperial-rule.html
Serene: A boat sails down a river in the Jiangsu province of China in 1946. The placid scene belies the rebellion, occupation, civil war and natural disasters of the previous half-century

Though have passed by, these moments of the distant past
Linger at times, entwined on the streets of my heart.
Neither do I lament over the loss; nor do I regret.
Yet they creep in, reminding me the impossible retreat!

Maybe some battles can neither be won, nor forever lost.
Emotive and shattered would I used to be haunted by thought.
Am I victorious? Indifferent, least bothered now to resist.
Or are the visits still on; deep within the battle does persist?

हमारे चाँद पे, दाग़ है खून के*

हमारे चाँद पे, दाग़ है खून के
ये फ़साने नहीं, किस्से है ज़िन्दगी के.....

तब तो साथ थे आँगन हमारे,
हम जीते थे एक दूसरे के सहारे ।
छूट गए वो किनारे, खींच ली लकीरें,
अब रोज़ तडपाते है मौत के इशारे ।

हमारे चाँद पे खून के दाग़ है,
सुन सको तो माँ की लोरी में चीक है ।
मत पूछो हमसे कब से ये दाग़ है?
डरते है हम, कही दिलों में अब भी आग है...

*The title of the poem and the thoughts in it are inspired from Rahul Pandita's brilliant book "Our Moon has blood clots: The Exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits"