Portrait of a poet

“Here within prison walls confined I tune the lute of poetry
That sorrow bursting from my heart, transmuted into melody,
May sing a song to draw forth blood – that even from captivity
I may work wonders in the world, and build a tavern for the free

Thus shall I labour hard; hard labour cosorts with
imprisonment.
Bonds shall no longer choke my voice, and I will sing my
heart’s lament.”

- Ghalib, (Translated by Ralph Russell)

I don’t know much about Ghalib. Only that he was a great poet, and he loved wine, and women, and that he wasn’t very religious. Oh yeah, just found out that he used to write in Persian and Urdu.

You never completely get the original from a translation but I guess it makes little difference to folks like me.

Lennon's World

“Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...”
John Lennon – ‘Imagine’

John woulda been pleased the other night if he went to the blogger help forum. Evidently there was a problem with the blogger’s main interface and folks from all over the world were facing a common problem, i.e., being stuck at 0% while publishing. At first I thought it was just my PC and decided to publish from home. When the same thing happened at home I went to blogger help to find out whats going on. It was a pretty sight in there, (as it is in all sorts of forums I suppose) – you got folks from everywhere – Israelis and Pakistanis, posting side by side, praying to the Blogger God. Well, I know its no biggie but for one brief moment it gets you thinking.

As it happens the blogger bug isn’t the only thing that united the people of Earth last night. I was chatting with a friend of mine in NY and she tells me its been raining everywhere. It was raining in Dhaka, in NY, In India, Canada and some other place she told me about. Could be Lisbon or Lebanon or London or some other place that doesn’t start with an L. I just cant seem to remember. :$

rebel without a clue

Last night on msn I signed in with the nick ‘rebel without a clue’. Dunno what I was thinking when I took it up. Shakia came online and laughed her ass off. Obviously she found the ‘rebellious’ me quite ridiculous. Then we debated the issue for a while. I WON. (That is I babbled way to much bullshit and she got exhausted)

Anyway, while I was at it, I remembered something I read a long time back. Here it is:

He with body waged a fight,
But body won; it walks upright.

Then he struggled with the heart;
Innocence and peace depart.

Then he struggled with the mind;
His proud heart he left behind.

Now his wars on God begin;
At stroke of midnight God shall win.

-- W. B. Yeats, The Four Ages of Man

If you feel like reading more - http://www.poetry-archive.com/y/yeats_w_b.html

To the real rebels out there, don’t let this turn you off. Just go on and do what you gotta do. Cause even if you as a person make no difference, your work may last longer than you think. If you cant seem to find a war worth finding, may be you are just looking too hard. There is a lot going on around you that the rebel in you can make better. Good luck and Godspeed.

V for Vendetta

“Remember Remember
The 5th of November
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.”

“We are told to remember the idea, not the man. Because a man can fail. He can be caught. He can be killed and forgotten. But four hundred years later an idea can still change the world.”

'V for Vendetta’, – good movie. By my standards of course.

If you don’t get that then get Crash. This one won an Oscar so wont be a total loss.

On Starlight

[So it rained a li'l]

I will not promise you,
The things I usually do,
Wonderful, beautiful, delightful little things,
Beads of pearls and emerald rings,
Nor enchanting moments, sublime dreams.
Instead I’ll be just me and you will be you,
I will, for once, keep it true.

The night is kind – its been raining.
Clock’s ticking – hour hand’s gaining
What is distance measured in miles?
But worthless data scribbled in files?
Skin on skin - still light years apart.
Pick a star my darling and give it my name.
Its yours forever – your own precious gem.

I’ll cross the seven seas, on starlight.
I shall go to thee, every night.
I’ll be one in the happy crowd – being fun and more,
I’ll be watching your feet, as they dance across the floor.
We’d smile and greet, when we meet at the door.
Some nights we’d be standing, on top of the old stairs,
And watch the skies above – layers upon layers.

Meet the pig

Heres something bout myself. I'm a pig and a happy one at that. Want proof? See below:

 

 

 

 

 

Heres another one.

Beware of labels

This is very weird. I am the type of person who is quick to label people, incidents or any other shit that comes my way. Still I hate labels more than I ought to. I think labels are misleading, deceiving and conceited. I see people running after labels all the time (including me), wearing the right cloths, assuming the right attitude and all. They work so hard on the label that they don’t have time to spend time on what the label was about. For example, lets consider poets, stereo types. They will almost always wear long hair, say stuff that may or may not have meanings, will have a weird look on their faces that’s neither here not there. Well, I guess I shouldn’t complain. They also write stuff from time to time.

Sometimes we use animals as labels. For instance, a lying, deceiving boy friend is often called a fox. Bad people are called wolves. Evil is labeled with bats. If u think about it, all those animals are quite nice. Cute too I must say. Just download pictures and see for yourself.

I think I am talking crap. Signing off.

At Mid Day

At mid day the weary traveler stood on the sandy beach of Equator.
He felt tired and dehydrated from his long journey under the sun.
Presently he found his way blocked by the enormous mount Decision;
Its steep granite walls offered no entrance.

On the left lay the vast sea of Illuminati,
Its blue surface glittered under the noon sun.
The foamy waves carried a message in a bottle –
“Ardent seeker, come to me.
I shall carry you far and away.
My waves will wash the dirt off of your tired body
The sea wind will purify your heart and
The brine shall heal all wound.
If you come, I will reveal to you
The mysteries of my depths.
If you be strong come!
Ride my waves.”

The vast expanse of the sea amazed the traveler.
He wondered with awe about the secrets it hides.
But the turbulent waves frightened him.
He had not the strength to go with tides.

Then he looked onto the right.
Where the woods of Life lay green and alluring.
“Come to me tired traveler.”
My trees will shelter you from the scorching sun
And bear you fruits.
I shall give to you the sweetest nectar and honey
For your thirst.
In me you will never be lonely.
Here you shall hunt and be hunted,
You shall serve and be served.
If you can live as one, come.”
The woods thus spoke.

The offerings of Life excited the tired traveler.
He marveled at the flora and fauna,
The chirping of birds and smell of wild flowers.
But he had not the heart to live as one.

Finally, from a shadowy corner of the woods,
Called out the quicksand of Truth.
“Traveler, you must come to me.
I know you. I have what you seek.
It is I and only I who have answers.
It is from me, that you came to be,
And to me you must return.
You have neither the courage to conquer the seas of mystery,
Nor the mind to be one in the circle of Life.
Still my child you have traveled far and have endured.
And now I shall keep you waiting no longer
Come now and I’ll reveal all.”

Trembling and shaking the traveler stepped in
He was aware of the consequences
But he knew now that there never were choices
For him and the likes of him.

When the sand came up to his waist he felt comfort;
His travel weary feet hart no more.
When the sand came up to his chest he felt healed;
The sore heart bled no more.
As the black sand oozed into his nostrils and
made way into his brain he felt felt suffocated.
But he knew it was not in vain.
Finally, submerged in the dark,
There were no more noises, no more pain.
And in the silence the truth was spoken in an audible whisper.
“Sleep now my son, this is it.”
And there were no more secrets.

Droplets in the Sea

Instead of fretting over how dull things are going, and planning on skipping a trip to do something ‘interesting’ back home, it is better to go on that trip. At least the ‘interesting’ thing to do doesn’t turn out to be wondering what might have been. Long story short, I am glad I went to the Sundarbans with the office folks. It was a very good trip. Good company, good food, good view all around.
And no! We did not see any tigers, that is, except for the ones on coffee mugs, posters and the documentary footage they showed last night. Frankly, I think it is better to be disappointed than meeting one of those cats face to face, who happen to have a nasty reputation for eating people. I am happy to be writing this blog today instead of turning into dried kitty liter in some desolate corner of the forest where nobody uses a laptop.

In the morning we took the boat to explore the canals, went hiking along the shore and through the jungle and jumped like babies each time we saw a deer, a fish or a bird. Believe me, they were well worth the occasional bee stings and fly bites. The beach was excellent; by far the most fun one I have ever splashed in. I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon siestas on top deck; you’d love the wind up there.

 

 

 

 

After the sun went down we’d help ourselves to chilled beers and late at night, something stronger. The addafying went on till very late at night and everybody went to bed happy. On the last night we were a bit worried as we had almost run out of supplies but the last bottle turned out to be a god sent. We had the most amazing conversations on life, happiness, world politics, religion and what not! You know how these go; we’d go on arguing, agreeing, starting and abandoning threads and joking about the gravest of issues. The next morning I woke up with the sweetest hangover in my life and I enjoyed it with Jim Morrison, gazing at the soothing green on either side of the boat.

I was undoubtedly the happiest man that morning until I wanted to have a look at the poem I had written the second night on the boat.
Although I never got to read it a second time I was very much in love with it. It was one of those that come from the heart in the spur of the moment and you love it even if it is no good. It was one of those moments when it is not you looking for the words but rather words come looking for you and they came flowing as soon as you take a pen to the paper. I wrote it during ‘happy hours’ at night so I am sure many of the lines would have been very hard to decipher. But I loved it still and when I found that it was lost, it hit me hard. Never in my life have I felt that way about a poem, any poem at that. The anguish I felt, can only be compared with the anguish of heartbreak. Oh well, am over it now. For the record, the title was ‘Droplets in the Sea’.