Go home and writeI wonder if it's that simple?
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.
Was reading Isaac Asimov’s Azazel last night. Recommend it to anyone who is lookhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing for some clean, honest to goodness, ‘un-perverted’ (not a word) laughs. Anyhow, in one of the stories there was a reference to the quantum physics observer effect/uncertainty principle (or something along the line) that suggests that the outcome of a phenomena kinda depends of the observer and in some way or the other, the observer’s consciousness meddles with the outcome of the phenomena and thus, shapes the reality of the universe around him.
So, it is somewhat possible that an observer with a lot of negativity can jinx the world around him. Well, in the story there was a guy who called himself a teleklutz – a person who send Murphy’s law into overdrive wherever he goes. Got me thinking,…am I a teleklutz myself?
I’m probably worse. Been feeling that way for a while now. I don’t just mess things up around me, unconsciously, God knows I’ve been messing things up with my eyes wide open, for myself, and everybody around me. Then the world around me is messed up as it is and I sometimes have this feeling that it is my fault too! (Can you believe the ego on this guy?)
Anyhow, not here to tell a sob story. I went to bed telling myself that if I could mess things up by making things wrong, then perhaps I could straighten things out by …well…by being positive. Well, when you’ve been bitter, mad, angry and felt hollowed out and dumb for long enough, you’d try anything.
So I tried to go to sleep, playing shamanic drums in my ears and budda’s smile on my lips…u know, bringing on the ‘zen’ with all my might. The drums in the head kept on missing bits and Budda’s looked kinda retarded but thankfully I went under soon enough so that didn’t really matter.
Dragged myself outta the bed in the morning and remembered everything. Determined to keep up the ‘positive vibe’ I started on the way to work with the retarded smile from the night before. Well, 400 meters from home, came the first hiccup. Forgot my wallet.
But wasn’t about to let that ruin my zen. Picked up the pieces, and made it to work (an hour late as usual). The first smoke break (approximately 25 mins after settling down in my station, realizing that I should congratulate myself for setting down at work with excellent focus), - the weather was nice, smoke buddy was in a good mood, and determined to keep my ‘zen’, I was about to make my first unintelligent remarks of the day. Guess what, the universe wouldn’t have it. It wouldn’t let me ruin http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifit for myself or my audience. Stopping me from saying stupid things – now that’s no easy feat these days. Would nothing short of a divine intervention and that’s exactly what I got.
And it came the only way it could, the intervention - simple, subtle and a bit, just a bit, smelly. It came in the form…of bird poo. Crow to be exact, right from upstairs, on top of my upstairs. (Not to worry. No meaningful or intelligible thought got hurt in the process; all of ‘em vacated the location months back.) How very...zen!
And the day went well in the end. Saw some nice pictures. (I mean really looked at them) And also found this amazing video. Especially liked the bit with the angry God; loved the bit with the tree of life. Posting it here, as a consolation prize for all who actually stayed and endured this mad rant. :S
Re-BORN / ADAM & EVE from TAKAHIRO KIMURA on Vimeo.
Time and again I’ve tried
To speak my mind
To Get ‘em out in the open, on a paper
Hoping they'd soften the blows
leave 'em trailing behind.
But the poet in me is gone and don’t know when he’ll be back
If he’ll ever be back.
So I do, what I shoulda done
I turn to them…the one’s been here and gone
Dead poets, (No, I don’t care for the movie)
b kind, send me a song.
And sure as day light
they say it right
says it all, says it clear
and Just as it was, long long ago
I hold ‘em close, hold ‘em dear.
I don't have to say a thing.
Its all been said and done.
Before it even begun.
Something hasn’t changed after all.
Something wont change... ever.
-------
Reluctance
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question "Whither?"
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
~ Robert Frost
Now I drink pain in every delight
And poison in every wine;
I never knew it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Alone, without you.
~ Hermann Hesse (Without You)
Aint nobody’s fault and sure aint mine
That I cannot tell the time.
Know that watch there works just fine.
But that damned thing was never mine.
That’s the way, and suites me fine.
What’d I care if its 5 or 9.
But it aint nobody’s fault but mine
That this guy here aint got no time.
সেই কবে, বহুদিন আগে
বসন্ত বেলায় বেঁধে ক্ষনিকের ঘর
মৌসুমী সখী মম, দেখেছিল
সপনের ঘোরে,
আমার রূপান্তর |
ঘর লাগা চোখে সুন্দরীতমা
চেয়েছিল মুখ পানে
কাছে সরে এসে, একান্ত গোপনে
বলেছিল কানে কানে:
”আমি দেখেছি তোমায়,
সাঝের বেলায়
চলেছ আমারি সাথে .
হেটেছি দুজন, খানিকটা ক্ষণ
হাত ধরা ছিল হাতে |
বেলা ফুরোলে, ফুরোলো পথও
দাঁড়ালে নদীর তীরে
অস্ফুট স্বরে বললে কি যেন
দেখলে আমাকে ফিরে |
তারপর, কি যে হলো
পলক ফিরতে দেখি
আমার চেনা
তোমার শরীর,
এক মুহুর্তে, বদলে গেল !.
যেন এই স্বাভাবিক
এমনি কথা ছিল !”
“কোন একদিন, জানিনাত কবে
হয়ত এমনি হবে …
স্বপন নদীর তীরে
তুমি মহীরুহ হয়ে রবে |”
সুর্যের রথে চেপে সময় গিয়েছে চলে,
সময় যেমন যায়.
চপলা ষোড়শী হারিয়েছে সেও ,
স্মৃতিরা যেমন হারায় |.
সাত সাগরের পাড় থেকে
জীবন নিয়েছে তারে ডেকে |
আর আমার
জীবন থাকেনি থেমে
যেমন থামেনা কারো
হেঁটে হেঁটে গিয়েছি চলে
পথ আরো আরো |.
জীবনের প্রয়োজনে
শরীর হয়েছে পটু খাদ্য অন্নেষণে |
বদলেছে মনও, বুঝেছে সেও
বিষাদ অপেখ্খা বিস্মৃতি শ্রেয়
কল্পনদী, অবাক বৃখ্খ,
কদাচ পরে না মনে |
একদা হঠাত, বহুদিন পরে
মনের ভিতরে, গহন অন্তরে
অশরীরী আকার কারা পায়েচারী করে |
তারা ডেকে নেয় মরে, সপনের ঘোরে
জীবন নদীর পাড়ে যেথা
চিরায়ত খেলা করে |.
দিধা সকলি অবসানে
প্রাণ ফিরে আসে প্রাণে
চোখ মেলে দেখি –
জলের শরীর মোর
মিশে গাছে জলে
ঘটেছে রূপান্তর
নবজন্ম পলে |
হাজার বছরের পাড়ে
অচীন বৃখ্খ এক রয়েছে দাড়ায়ে
চিনতে পার কি তারে?
খসে পড়া নক্ষত্রের মত
দ্রূত পতনশীল
রাতের শেষ সিগারেটের
লাল আলো
অনুসরণ করে আমার ক্রমশ:
ঝাপসা হয়ে আসা
নিদ্রাতুর চোখের দৃষ্টি।
দ্রুত, অতি দ্রুত শেষ হয়
নির্বীর্য, আশাভঙ্গের সেই পর্ব|
নিঃশেষিত নিকোটিন শলাকার
নিরাসক্ত গমন পথ
ব্যার্থ হয়
কোনো নতুন ছন্দের জন্ম দিতে|
জীবনানন্দ, রবীন্দ্রনাথ, ফ্রস্ট, পো
একে একে ফিরে যান সকলে
সমভাবে ব্যার্থ হয়ে
অরন্যরোদন আর কতকাল?
অমৃত, সে চিরদিনই অমৃত – সত্য|
কিন্তু তা ধারণ করবার পাত্র কোথায়?
ভাঙ্গা হাঁড়ি তবু চেষ্টা করে যায়
আরো কিছুক্ষণ, নিজেকে জোড়া লাগাবার,
চেষ্টা করে ইতস্তত ছড়ানো
বিশৃঙ্খল অংশগুলোকে
কোনো এক দৈব জাদুবলে
সুসজ্জিত করতে,
ঘাটে ঘাটে মেলাতে.
এতে সে খানিকটা সফলও হয়ত হয়
কিন্তু দিনের আলোয় সবই
ভ্রান্ত প্রমান হয়।
দিনের আলো তাই চাই না আর
মুমুর্ষ দানবের রক্তচক্ষু কটাক্ষই কাম্য।
সুসংবদ্ধ ছন্দ, ছত্র, ছবির প্রয়োজন নেই,
প্রয়োজন নেই সুষম ভাব, ভাষা, ভালবাসার
পতনশীল নক্ষত্রের নিষ্ফল আক্রোশ যদি
আজ রাতে
জন্ম দিতে পারে
একটি অগ্নিময়, নারকীয় দুঃস্বপ্নের|
Translation
[neither good nor accurate but who cares! its mine]
Like a dead star
Falling fast
the fiery red
of the last cigarette, is chased
by these two
stony, sleepy eyes.
Quickly, too quickly it ends -
The episode of sterile disillusionment.
The tracks made in space
By the careless nicotine bearer
Fails to produce
Any new beat.
Jivanananda, Tagore, Frost and Poe
All retires
Equally unsuccessful…
How long can they beat a dead horse anyway?
True that elixir of life will last all eternity
But where is the pot to hold it in?
So the cracked pot keeps at it
For a li’l while longer, trying to mend itself,
wishing for some sort of divine intervention
That’d collect all the pieces
And set them straight
they way they ought to be.
And he does it too, at least it seems that way, for a bit
Till the light of day
says otherwise.
So, no more light, no more day,
For the glare of the dying Cyclops – I pray
Rhymes, rhythms and reflections are unwanted
No need for wisdom, women or words
If tonight the falling giant
In its desperate rage
Can provide
A fiery, red, nightmare.
"How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breath were life. Life piled on life
Were all to little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought."
"The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
Quotations from Ulysses in Odyssey III.
Just the words I needed to hear.
Walking down the forest...You’ve been walking for a while; could be days, or months or years. Presently, something catches your eyes. Something like ...a pot. There,...on the ground. What is it made of? Is it shiny?
Its a clay pot. So what do you do with it? Nothing? Don’t you want to pick it up? Take it with you? No? Okay then.
It’s a shabby li’l clay pot. And you don’t even want that.
…………
Years later...
----
Didn’t think you’d be here, but here you are! Again! Through no fault or credit of your own. May be it was what they say it is. Its all written. Hell, you probably wrote it yourself!
So, how much of it did you really write you think? I mean, seriously, do you even have a clue? Tell me then, Where you are? Now? Whats that? You don't know where exactly? You don’t know for sure? LOL!
Boy, boy, boy! Wasn’t that supposed to be your 'super power'? Knowing whats what, despite the size and shape and smell or boxes they come in? Tsk! tsk! tsk! This is a little disappointing.
Painted yourself into a tight little spot. Haven’t you? Right! That we don’t know yet. Heck, for all you know, you never even picked up a paint brush to begin with. It probably doesn’t matter,...whether you’ve done it, or not. Things happened anyway. That much is true? And they happened, not just for you, but for the world around you. How is it now? Your own corner of the world?
It looks a li’l messed up. Doesn’t it? Your mind, your body, your home, your family, your friends, your newspaper headlines,…looks a bit shabby. Eh? Now, you can’t possibly be blamed! You’d done nothing. Have you? Or whatever you’ve done, your intentions were pure? I mean, as pure as anyone’s. No need to get all defensive. Noone’s judging.
Whats that? You never had a chance? Oh ho ho! You know that’s not true. You did nothing wrong? Okay, lets say that much is true. Did you do it right? Or do at all to begin with? Lol…
A lot of cleaning up to do boy. Not for you to do. But then again, it is your reality. You decide what to do. If you think it needs cleaning up, well,...you'd better find a mop. How much you can do? Well, not much of course! Probably nothing at all. Then again, it is Your reality.
It is upto you what kinda pot you want…or what you want to do with it. But you got to walk upto it...on your own two feet...you gotta put in the miles. You've got to find it…see it for yourself…and then, make your choice. Only then you can make for the exit,…pot in hand or not…, but you got to be there first.
Otherwise, you end up going in circles. Round and round a shabby li’l pot, never really knowing whats in it, never knowing whether to keep it, or to give it away…never knowing how to get out,...never moving on...
So, you need one more chance. You got all the chances you want. As long as you are there…you got ‘em….and then some. Perhaps you could use a little help figuring out how to make good on all that. Everyone does I suppose…and you do too.
A li’l tricky, getting help – figuring out what to ask for, who to ask…how to ask and then, how to take it. Very tricky indeed! Especially for you boy…I know. But its better if you do it, better if you do it now. Clock's ticking boy,…You gotta make good.
There is no such thing…as an original story
None of it is made up
Its all something that you’ve seen
Dreamt about
Or known all along
You’ve been there…even if you don know when.
We are gathered here to witness
The final act
The last performance
Of the play
This however, is hardly the end…
there will be other plays.
But for now, from what I hear,
You r in for a treat.
We are all here…eager to hear
The stories that were never told
Stories we knew
Before time, But for the time,
time forgot.
The world has its heroes
All 1’s and 0’s
Not sure who’se winning tho
Wonder how things turn gray
Even when the dress code is strictly black and white.
As for me, I don’t know it any better
But then again, may b I do…as do u.
Like I said, I don’t know
But guess what tho…
Sometimes…a lot of times…
It all comes together
And the contradictions rest in perfect harmony
When I sit down at tea
With the holy trinity –
The old body
The young heart
And ancient soul
It all makes pefect sense,
Even tho I got no clue
None what so ever
it takes a voodoo woman
To get me goin
O it’s a voodoo woman
Who gets me there
Its a voodoo woman
I sit up and notice
Only a voodoo woman
C’d make me care.
She’s gotta know
Gotta know,
Gotta know
know the magic right
o get it just right
Come voodoo woman
Come take my hand
I’m your magic man baby
It was me all along.
You need me as I need you
U know this much is true
Aint nobody can make it
Make it the way we do
So, Come take my hand woman
Lets c this through
come do your thing woman
do it
do it
do it
the way u only can
There is no such thing…as an original story
None of it is made up
Its all something that you’ve seen
Dreamt about
Or known all along
You’ve been there…even if you don know when.
We are gathered here to witness
The final act
The last performance
This however, is hardly the end…there will be other plays.
But for now, from what I hear,
You r in for a treat.
We are all here…eager to hear
The stories that were never told
Stories we knew
Before time, But for the time,
time forgot
The world has its heroes
All 1’s and 0’s
Not sure who’se winning tho
Wonder how things turn gray
Even when the dress code is strictly black and white.
As for me, I don’t know it any better
But then again, may b I do…as do u.
Like I said, I don’t know
But guess what tho…
Sometimes…a lot of times…
It all comes together
And the contradictions rest in perfect harmony
When I sit down at tea
With the holy trinity –
The old body
The young heart
And ancient soul
It all makes pefect sense,
Even tho I got no clue
None what so ever
“And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens. . . they will all be your friends. And, besides,
I am going to make you a present. . .
“…That is my present. Just that. It will be as it was when we drank the
water. . .”
“All men have the stars,” he answered, “but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman they were wealth. But all these stars are silent. You– you alone– will have the stars as no one else has them–”
“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night. . . you– only you– will have stars that can laugh!” And he laughed again.
“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure. . . and your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, ‘Yes, the stars always make me laugh!’ And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you. . . ”
“It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh. . . ”
~ The little prince
BB gave me this book 5 years ago. I kept it, took it with me while I was away…but never read it. That’s all right,…this was the perfect time to read it.
There is a little prince in all of us, somewhere, fallen from the stars…one that knows the way back to his rose…Its just that all the ‘matters of consequence’ keep us away from him. I recommend this book to all grown ups; might help us see what’s truly essential…things that are indivisible to the eye…
