Complainants!

 

That crowd of emotions

Emanating from my heart

Had back then fallen in love,

With that very haunting

Dark beautiful loneliness,

Which seemed to engulf you!

With the passage of time

There have been complaints.

No, not of your loneliness.

Rather, the very lack of it.

The complainants are

The crowd of emotions -

My unsatiated longings,

Longing for that loneliness

Which they killed when they

themselves fell in love with it.

Precious and lost!

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.”
― Haruki Murakami, 

("Kafka on the Shore")

"You look sad, depressed and lost, why is it so?"
"Because it is precious and I lost it."
"Then come let us go and find it."
"No, let us not find it back."
"Why? Isn't it precious enough to get it back?"
"It is precious now, only because it is lost."
"Ah! One of those which become precious only because they can't be got back."

Afraid

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."

- T.S. Eliot, Preface to Harry Crosby, Transit of Venus (1931), p. ix.

It was a gala party. So many guests, all grinning at one another, greeting with joy and at places hugging despite the envy.

At the table in a corner, we three sat boozing after eavesdropping at random tables on a lot of ludicrous gossips.

The angel and the devil too, due to the lack of coherence to discuss any interesting subject as we boozed, took to deliberate on the idea of my marriage.
"How sweet of your human friends, at each table as they greeted you, they were all concerned of your marriage."
"But how does your marriage concern them all? Seems like it is an easy, lazy conversation starter."
"Best to ignore it, we humans just tend to feed on the gossips of others' lives as we loaf around in such parties."

As we had more pegs the angel and the devil too, like those success-coaches, told me to surmount my fear and take a leap of faith.
"Maybe they were all right. You are afraid. Afraid of getting married. And hence succumb and fret your days in loneliness."
"Maybe they were all afraid. Afraid of having to live alone and succumbed to that pressure and surrendered to marriage."
"Maybe like them all, we three are also on a high and unnecessarily philosophizing another civilizational social convention which could well be followed for thousand various reasons in various cases."

ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯೇ, ನೀನೂ ನನ್ನಂತೆ ಪೆಣ್ಣಲ್ತೆ!?

ಖಜುರಾಹೋ ಶಿಲ್ಪಕಲೆ (Erotic Sculptures of Khajuraho)
I wonder if these sculptures question our perceptions and reservations on issues we often dismiss as taboo

ಮೋಹ ಕಾಮದ 

ಕಿಚ್ ನಮ್ಮೊಳತ್ತಿಸಿ,

ನಮಗೆ ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಪ್ರೇಮದ

ದಾಹವಿತ್ತಿ, ಕೌತುಕದ 

ಶೋಧಕ್ಕಿಕಿದೆ!

ನಮ್ಮಿಬ್ತನುಗಳು ಸೇರಿ

ಸಂಧಿಸಿ ಸಂಮೋಹಿಸಲು,

ಯಾರೇ ಈಡುಮಾಡಿದರೂ 

ಕುರುಹುಳಿವುದು - ನಾ ಮಾತ್ರ

ಕೌಮಾರ್ಯ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಬಂತೆ!

ಮೂರ್ಲೋಕದೊಳೂ 

ಕೇಳ್ದೆ ಯಾವ ನ್ಯಾಯವಿದು?

ಲೋಕಗಳ್ ಕಳುಹಿದವು

ಇಗೋ ನಿನ್ನೆಡೆಗೆ -

ನೀನವರ ತಾಯನ್ತೆ!

ಇದೆಲ್ಲಿಯ ನ್ಯಾಯವೋ

ಅರಿಯದೀ ಪೆಣ್ತಲೆ. 
ಪೇಳ್ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯೇ,

ನೀನೂ ನನ್ನಂತೆ

ಪೆಣ್ಣಲ್ತೆ!?

(Igniting within us the fires

Of attraction and lust

Planting within us the thirst

Of affection and love

Thou set us on the exploration

Of curiosity!

Whoever nudges our bodies 

To meet in unison and

Thrive in that intimate union,

Evidence remains only to tell

Of my loss of virginity!

I have questioned in all worlds

How fair is this??

The worlds have sent me to

Thou; they all claim

Thou to be their mother!

My female heart is unable

To comprehend this justice.

Tell me O Mother Nature,

Aren't thou too a woman

Like me!?)

Feeble hope

 

The darkness of the quiet nights,

Witness to my many moans 

Of both pains and pleasures;

How I feebly hope at least you

Can distinguish between the two!

The problem

It was a typical Angel and Devil problem!
"What is the problem?"
"I am not sure if I am myself or what I think of myself"
"Then is the thought the problem?"
"I wonder if it is the urge to think?"
"Urge to think of oneself?"
"To think of oneself as one thing?!"

A romantic's plea

Allow me to be unrealistic. (PC: Myself)

Give me not 

Reason and Rationale.

I too shall one day be

Wise enough to have them. 

I too shall then quote 

From all my experience,

And justify why it 

Is best the way it is.

But till that time,

Allow me to be idealistic

Allow me to be romantic

Allow me to be unrealistic.

For the moment let me

Live my passion.

If you can, drive me crazy

Drive me utopian.

I don't want to wake up

So soon and be mature

To the reality of life.

Let me still stay immature.

As I try again and falter

And see my dreams shatter,

Broken heart soaks bitter.

But to have tried feels better.

ಮೊನಚುಮಾರಿ!

 

ಕಣೆ, ಕತ್ತಿ, ಕಠಾರಿ, ಚೂರಿ 

ಹೃದಯ ಇರಿವಲ್ಲಿ 

ನಾ ಮುಂದು, 

ತಾ ಮುಂದೆಂದು 

ನಡೆಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದವು ಮಾರಾಮಾರಿ! 

ಕಂಡು ಈ ಬಡಾಯಿ ಬಾರಿ ಬಾರಿ 

ಹಿಂಬದಿಯಲ್ಲಿ 

ನಿಂತು ತನ್ನೊಳಗೇ 

ಮುಗುಳ್ನಗುತಿತ್ತು 

ಮಾತೆಂಬ ಮೊನಚುಮಾರಿ!

ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆ!

PC: Myself!

ये दाग़ दाग़ उजाला, ये शबगज़ीदा सहर
वो इन्तज़ार था जिस का, ये वो सहर तो नहीं

- ಫೈಜ್ ಅಹ್ಮದ್ 'ಫೈಜ್' ('ಆಗಸ್ಟ್ 1947' ಎಂಬ ಕವಿತೆಯಲ್ಲಿ) 

(ಈ ಕಲೆ ಕಲೆಕಟ್ಟಿದ ಬೆಳಕು, ಈ ಇರುಳು ನುಂಗಿದಂತಿಹ ಮುಂಜಾನೆ 

ಯಾವುದರ ನಿರೀಕ್ಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾದಿದ್ದೆವೋ, ಇದು ಆ ಬೆಳಗಂತೂ ಅಲ್ಲ)

ಆಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ

ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ 

ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ!

ರಸ್ತೆ ತಡೆಯಂತೆ,

ಏಕೆಂದರೆ ಮೆರವಣಿಗೆಯಂತೆ. 

ಹೆರಿಗೆ ಬೇನೆಯ ತಾಯಿಯೂ 

ನೋವು ತಡೆದು ಕಾಯಬೇಕಂತೆ 

ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ!

ಗಾಂಧಿಯ ಪುತ್ಥಳಿಯಂತೆ 

ಅದಕೆ ಜರಿಯ ಶಾಲು ಹೊದಿಸಬೇಕಂತೆ 

ಶಾಲಿನ ಅಂಚು ಹಸಿರೋ ಕೇಸರಿಯೋ 

ಎಂಬುದೇ ಒಂದು ಕಂತೆ 

ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ!

ನೆಹರು, ಸುಭಾಷರಂತೆ 

ಅವರನು ಕೊಂಡಾಡುವ ಇತಿಹಾಸವಂತೆ 

ಆದರ್ಶಗಳ ಆರಾಧಿಸುವ ಕುರುಡುಕೂಪ 

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ವಿಮರ್ಶೆಗೆ ಜಾಗವಿಲ್ಲವಂತೆ 

ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ!

ಇತಿಹಾಸದ 'ಪರಿಶುದ್ಧ' ಪಾಠವಂತೆ
ಫೇಸ್ಬುಕ್ಕಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಪರ್ಯಾಯ ಪೋಸ್ಟ್ಗಳಂತೆ
ರಾಷ್ಟ್ರಧ್ವಜವ ವಾಟ್ಸಾಪ್ಪಿನಲ್ಲಿ
'ಡಿಪಿ' ಮಾಡುವುದೇ ರಾಷ್ಟ್ರಪ್ರೇಮವಂತೆ
ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಸಂಭ್ರಮಾಚರಣೆಯಂತೆ!

Walking in the rain...

 

"I no longer love her, that's certain, 

but maybe I love her.

  Love is so short, forgetting is so long. "

- Pablo Neruda

I walk into the downpour 

Hoping it will wash away 

Those memories of you and me 

Running down the hill of ecstasy. 

Damn this rain! It reminds me 

Of that promise I made to you - 

Every time a drop kisses the earth 

I too would kiss you with all fervor.

Dark desert battles!

Original Painting by Auguste Glaize (1807-1893)
"The Women of Gaul" - An episode during the Roman invasion of Gaul, Painting done in 1851

       It was a dark night. A stormy one. Desert storms are bad, they are brutal too. I struggled my way to the high moral ground and preached to my fellow warriors. Some cheered, some booed. That is how it is, I thought. Energized by the assumption that I had fuelled their spirits, I bravely battled the enemy all through the night.

       As the Sun came above the horizon in the early hours, I saw the landscape. A freaking sight! The moral high ground I supposed in the night was only a heap of corpses of my own men! The ground in the desert is all fleeting. As my own men stare at me and their stare terrifies me more than that of the enemy forces, it feels as if the sand flows and where I thought was the high ground in the night, now seems to be the pit of my downfall.

River of life

 

PC: Myself

There flows the river of life, 

All the way to the ocean - ripe. 

To watch her flow is a sight to behold!

At places she is absolutely silent, 

And at places she roars exuberant. 

At places she meanders through curves, 

And at places she diligently swerves.

If one day she drains herself completely 

All into the ocean, not a drop in flow

Only the silent trail of dust to show;

The gut wrenching shock of sudden loss

He is willing to bear it as this too shall pass.

He says he will miss, but not brood over her.

The splendour with which she once flowed,

The grandeur with which she once roared. 

Nor shall he sit by what was once the river,

And over her demise moan in pain or shiver.

Hardened at heart, he will continue with his life.

He will brave the unpredictability of the seasons,

Even if to negotiate despite the many treasons.

He will as always struggle to raise plant and bud,

Even if to water them through his sweat and blood.

Humans!

Human beings: Contradictory ideas and Individual character??
PC: Myself!

"What makes human beings interesting is that they continue to hold contradictory ideas together at the same time, and that mix is what constitutes the individual character." 

- Orhan Pamuk

Rare was this moment! Very rare indeed. As if it was a blue moon night! The angel and the devil were on the same page on this issue.
"An idealist, a romantic, a poet - far far away from reality!"
"An opportunist, a realist, a politician - scheming to get things done!"
"At times so courageous and bold; at times so timid and meek"
"Inconsistent. Simple in certain tastes, lavish in others."
"Kind and cruel"
"Mind and heart"
"Unreasonable, yet at times pragmatic!"
"Foolish, yet at times the spark of brilliance!"
"Why aren't they what they are?"
"Why can't we predict their behaviour?"
Taking a deep breath of exasperation, the angel and the devil in this extremely rare moment of agreement said in unison - " Probably, because they are humans!"

A step and a leap!!

To my mom,

What have been small steps to me,

Have always been giant leaps to her!

PC: Myself

Captured at the HortPark, Singapore

ಹೂವು - ಪ್ರೀತಿ

PC: Myself!

ಗಿಡದಿ ಕಣ್ಸೋರೆಗೊಂಡಂತೆ ಅರಳಿ, 

ಸುಗಂಧ ಬೀರಿ, ಮನ ತಣಿಸಿ, 

ದೇವರ ಅಲಂಕಾರದಿ ಸೊಗಸೇರಿಸಿ,

ಅಥವಾ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯಕ್ಕೇ ಪರ್ಯಾಯವೆನಿಸಿ

ಸುಮನೋಹರ ಚೆಲುವೆಯ ಮುಡಿಯೇರಿ

ರಂಗೇರಿಸಿದ್ದು ಮಾತ್ರವೇ ಹೂವಾಗುವುದೇ?

ಕಾಡ್ಮೊಗ್ಗಾಗಿ ಎಲೆಮರೆಯಲಿ ಅವಿತು,

ಮುಂಜಾನೆಯ ಮಂಜ್ಹನಿಯಲಿ ಮಿಂದು,

ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯ ಬೃಹತ್ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಾಂಡ ನಾಟಕದಿ

ಕ್ಷಣಮಾತ್ರಕ್ಕೆ ಅರಳಿ ನಗೆ ಬೀರಿ ನಲಿದು

ತನ್ನಂದದಿ ತಾನೇ ತಣಿದು, ಯಾರ 

ಕಣ್ನೋಟಕ್ಕೂ ಸಿಗದೆ ಬಾಡಿದ್ದು ಹೂವಾಗದೇ?

ನೀನೊಪ್ಪಿ ನನ್ನ ಮನದಿ ಅಂಕುರಗೊಂಡ

ಭಾವಕ್ಕೆ ಒಪ್ಪಿಗೆಯಿತ್ತು, ಅಪ್ಪುಗೆಯಲ್ಲಿ

ತನು ಸೇರಿ, ಪ್ರೇಮೋನ್ಮಾದವ ಹೀರಿ;

ಸಮಾಜ-ಸಂಸಾರ-ಪರಂಪರೆಯ ಮೂಲಕ

ಸ್ವೀಕೃತವಾಗಿ, ಒಂದೇ ಸೂರಿನಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ

ಸಾಮಗಾನ ಹಾಡ್ವುದೇ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯಾಗುವುದೇ?

ನಿನ್ನ ಗುಣಲಕ್ಷಣ ಲೋಪದೋಷ ನಡತೆಗಳಿಗೆ

ಪ್ರತಿಕ್ರಿಯೆ ಎಂಬಂತೆ ನನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಗೌರವಾಭಿಮಾನಗಳು

ಚಿಗುರೊಡೆದು; ಅಸಮ್ಮತಿಯೂ ಆಗಾಗಲೆದ್ದು,

ಕೋಪ ಕಸಿವಿಸಿಯ ಕಣ್ನೋಟದಲ್ಲೇ ತೊರೆದು-ಸೆಳೆದು,

ಒಡಲಾಟದಿ ಸರಿ-ತಪ್ಪುಗಳ ತೊಳಲಾಟವ ತೊರೆದಿಹ

ಸಮಾಜ ಅನುಮೋದಿಸದ ಭಾವಾಭಿವ್ಯಕ್ತಿ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯಾಗದೇ?

The perfect shot!

camera obscura: The dark chamber!! (PC: Myself)

"Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still." 

- Dorothea Lange

      In the snow laden valleys when we would all sleep wrapped in the dark cold nights, she would stay awake. Shivering in the cold, she would wait for inspiration to strike her. Though she was smart, we thought she was eccentric since in the absence of light no photographer could capture any picture but this lass would stay up all night with her age old camera as if to capture a miracle. We would ask her often what was it that she intended to capture and with a sheepish smile she would say "the perfect shot". We even joked among ourselves that she was an occult mystery.

      The camera in its Latin origins - "camera obscura" means the dark chamber, where in all the action happens only by trapping light. Ambrose Bierce once called photograph as "a picture painted by the sun without instruction in art." But this lass stayed up in the dark nights, where darkness loomed large with increasing cold and there was meagre light if any, and for the sunlight, there was none. How could she ever capture light in its absence? And we were bewildered at her audacity of calling the absurd as the perfect!!
        This was the every night usual drama for us. Until, one fine night, she decided to call it a day! We were all surprised. How could this stubborn lass give up her pursuit of the 'perfect shot' over a night? She was hell bent on capturing the perfect shot and had doggedly battled all of us, the naysayers for so long! But then she had decided to abandon her pursuit on that fateful night of torrential rainfall. On insisting why she had made the decision, she showed us what she had captured. A bright shot of the valley. But in the midnight, at the exact strike of lightning! The timing was so perfect that until we were told of it, none of us could recognize it was captured in the midnight and not in the day! There was no sign that could tell us that it was a picture clicked at the precise moment of flash in almost pitch darkness. Nothing that hinted at her persistence; absolutely no clue of her perseverance. To the onlooker, it was just another picture of the valley. Nothing less, nothing more!
      Was it the irony of perfection that disillusioned one of its striving champion from its earnest pursuit? Or was it that she had found in her pursuit of perfection such profoundness that we weren't able to grasp as we had failed to appreciate the timing of the "perfect shot"!?

ದುಗುಡ ಕಡಲು

PC: Myself!!

ಕರಗಿ ಹರಿಯದ ದುಗುಡ ಕಡಲಿದು
ಹಾಡಿ ಕುಣಿದರೂ ನೋವು ಸಾಯದು!

ಆಸೆ ತೀರಲು ಬಯಕೆ ಮೂಡ್ವುದು
ಎಷ್ಟು ಸಿಕ್ಕರೂ ಮನಸು ನೀಗದು!

ಎಷ್ಟು ಚೆಂದವೋ ಕನಸು ಅರಳಲು
ಸತ್ಯ ತಿಳಿಯಲು ಕುಮಲು ಕುಂದದು!

ಸೊಕ್ಕು ಸೊರಗಲು ಸಮಯ ಕಾಯದು
ಕಾಣೋ ಸಬೂಬ ಕುರುಡು ಒಪ್ಪದು!

ಕರಗಿ ಹರಿಯದ ದುಗುಡ ಕಡಲಿದು

ಹಾಡಿ ಕುಣಿದರೂ ನೋವು ಸಾಯದು!

(It is the frozen ocean of sorrow that refuses to melt and flow;
Though I do sing and dance, pain refuses to wilt and die!

Once desires get fulfilled, there do arise more fancies;
How much so ever is got, the heart is never contented!

How soothingly beautiful it is when dreams do blossom within;
But as and when reality starts biting heartache diminishes not a bit!

Time neither pauses nor waits for the ego to be tamed down;
Though glaringly visible are proofs blindness never sees any of them!

It is the frozen ocean of sorrow that refuses to melt and flow;
Though I do sing and dance, pain refuses to wilt and die!)

A view of the room....

PC: Myself!!

The half smoken cigarette buds

The unfinished bookmarked books

The cloth strewn bed of mine

The unwashed colored glass of wine

The forgotten fruits that rot and stink

The worn out shirts with stains of ink

The damp socks too old, plenty of mold 

The dusty boots waiting for the cold

The laptop running short of power

The mobile that got wet in shower

The speaker booming in loop since long

The router overused, hence gone wrong

The camera lens washed only by rain

The gift I got for her, that waits in vain...