Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
In depths of all souls,
All talks remain incomplete.
--------------------------
Once upon a time (that is how all stories start) there was a man. He loved to dream. He would dream as if he never had to wake up ever again. He had to wake up for life demands few actions. So upon fulfilling those duties that life demanded he used to go back to his love of dreaming.
The places he visited there were beautiful, the bridges he built were master pieces. He was the creator of an entire universe.
Once in such creation he felt a nudge, a pull, a pull that ended his dream. Upon waking up he saw he had sweated profusely and in that unearthly hour of cold, the body had misbehaved.
-------------------------
The body wet and feeling strange did for sometime have some fresh breaths.
This wasn't something that man would leave it alone. He knew of a weep that he had in some of his dreams and he knew of joy in others that he keep.
A dream has to dream.
It has to have a sword.
It cannot be chased away. The dream could make him convert all his pain to his joy.
The pull then was the dream. The stone in his heart was a clay for he knew as he did breathe easy on waking up. That was the hope he smiled.
He needed help for once now outside of his dream. The nudge now never would subside till he allowed this mystic fire to burn.
---------------------------------
Then he thought he should sleep instead of dream. He could let the love in wilderness for some days. The walk in the evening was in a deep forest. There an earth worm ruled. The earth worm was no ordinary worm. It was brown and it's head blue. What brings you here, it asked the man. The man spoke to the wind and he was fine so what he had heard a worm talk.
He had in his dreams spoken to all. He knew the languages well.
He spoke about the last night.
He asked about what was the sign, the pull had made him a handicap.
He no longer wanted the wealth and would block its love even if it meant he would have to burn in hell.
Laughed the worm at the vanity of its guest. It had thought high of man. Man it thought was closest to God.
What and why had God abandoned this man?
It then asked the man to listen; it had a story to tell. It would help nothing and everything. The story was about a dream within a dream. Now listen well.
--------------------------------
Once upon a time there was a poet blind. He sang a song all day long, he sang it on the graves he wept:
Why is that it is the Joy that only multiplies?
Inner secrets are the key,
Pass the image, move further in,
The image imagines a beauty if
you do,
The beauty grants life,
It is like a spell,
But it is not,
May be a kiss,
Sometimes obscene,
And it multiplies,
Why does it multiply?
-------------------------------------
The poet blind had studied the wisdom of all markets well. He was son of a trader great. His childhood and his youth spent in streets where traders of pride and reputation dealt. Off late the rulers had feared the traders and thought of markets as a disease.
The streets changed as the rulers kept digging their nose driving all foreigners out. Corruption grew and traders weak. The poet who could see went blind. He was hence called the poet blind. He lost his father who fought the rulers well. He now called all markets graves. It is in the market he sang the song of Joy.
..............
A mad man once came to know of this poet blind. The fame of this pure heart spread wide. The mad man was also a doctor and he sang the song of this poet blind.
He travelled a distance great. The sun's bright rays and the cool of the moon guided this man to see his soul.
You have an eye and I'm a doctor so why do you call yourself blind? said the mad on meeting the blind.
Yes, the love and the honor of the streets of this market which have suffered a blow has left me blind. I now sing my song and one day would walk away. The love still holds me here for few good men still exist here.
The mad understood about love and learnt how to trade when alone with himself from the one who was blind.
It was traveling of the mind within the mind. He knew now desired to be keen and the one who he came to cure, he was himself in a spell.
About existence and how body transforms to life he understood as he was made to understand how bread transforms to flesh.
The secrets were clear and this was a market that dealt life and death. He weeped and he then laughed out loud. He bid the blind good bye.
................
All talks remain incomplete.
--------------------------
Once upon a time (that is how all stories start) there was a man. He loved to dream. He would dream as if he never had to wake up ever again. He had to wake up for life demands few actions. So upon fulfilling those duties that life demanded he used to go back to his love of dreaming.
The places he visited there were beautiful, the bridges he built were master pieces. He was the creator of an entire universe.
Once in such creation he felt a nudge, a pull, a pull that ended his dream. Upon waking up he saw he had sweated profusely and in that unearthly hour of cold, the body had misbehaved.
-------------------------
The body wet and feeling strange did for sometime have some fresh breaths.
This wasn't something that man would leave it alone. He knew of a weep that he had in some of his dreams and he knew of joy in others that he keep.
A dream has to dream.
It has to have a sword.
It cannot be chased away. The dream could make him convert all his pain to his joy.
The pull then was the dream. The stone in his heart was a clay for he knew as he did breathe easy on waking up. That was the hope he smiled.
He needed help for once now outside of his dream. The nudge now never would subside till he allowed this mystic fire to burn.
---------------------------------
Then he thought he should sleep instead of dream. He could let the love in wilderness for some days. The walk in the evening was in a deep forest. There an earth worm ruled. The earth worm was no ordinary worm. It was brown and it's head blue. What brings you here, it asked the man. The man spoke to the wind and he was fine so what he had heard a worm talk.
He had in his dreams spoken to all. He knew the languages well.
He spoke about the last night.
He asked about what was the sign, the pull had made him a handicap.
He no longer wanted the wealth and would block its love even if it meant he would have to burn in hell.
Laughed the worm at the vanity of its guest. It had thought high of man. Man it thought was closest to God.
What and why had God abandoned this man?
It then asked the man to listen; it had a story to tell. It would help nothing and everything. The story was about a dream within a dream. Now listen well.
--------------------------------
Once upon a time there was a poet blind. He sang a song all day long, he sang it on the graves he wept:
Why is that it is the Joy that only multiplies?
Inner secrets are the key,
Pass the image, move further in,
The image imagines a beauty if
you do,
The beauty grants life,
It is like a spell,
But it is not,
May be a kiss,
Sometimes obscene,
And it multiplies,
Why does it multiply?
-------------------------------------
The poet blind had studied the wisdom of all markets well. He was son of a trader great. His childhood and his youth spent in streets where traders of pride and reputation dealt. Off late the rulers had feared the traders and thought of markets as a disease.
The streets changed as the rulers kept digging their nose driving all foreigners out. Corruption grew and traders weak. The poet who could see went blind. He was hence called the poet blind. He lost his father who fought the rulers well. He now called all markets graves. It is in the market he sang the song of Joy.
..............
A mad man once came to know of this poet blind. The fame of this pure heart spread wide. The mad man was also a doctor and he sang the song of this poet blind.
He travelled a distance great. The sun's bright rays and the cool of the moon guided this man to see his soul.
You have an eye and I'm a doctor so why do you call yourself blind? said the mad on meeting the blind.
Yes, the love and the honor of the streets of this market which have suffered a blow has left me blind. I now sing my song and one day would walk away. The love still holds me here for few good men still exist here.
The mad understood about love and learnt how to trade when alone with himself from the one who was blind.
It was traveling of the mind within the mind. He knew now desired to be keen and the one who he came to cure, he was himself in a spell.
About existence and how body transforms to life he understood as he was made to understand how bread transforms to flesh.
The secrets were clear and this was a market that dealt life and death. He weeped and he then laughed out loud. He bid the blind good bye.
................
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Abandon the thoughts that
remain strangers
For the ground I stand on remains very visible
Love and it's attraction
are generous here where I stand.
Set the eyes on day and
Spare the valley left behind,
Do it daily, there is a need that
needs you today,
Return in dreams to the ground
that you find expands.
See the dust waits and
ready to fulfill all my needs,
Wings would grow too,
Yes they have to,
It waits till I become certain
Of the ground I stand.
Abandon the thoughts that
remain strangers to you.
remain strangers
For the ground I stand on remains very visible
Love and it's attraction
are generous here where I stand.
Set the eyes on day and
Spare the valley left behind,
Do it daily, there is a need that
needs you today,
Return in dreams to the ground
that you find expands.
See the dust waits and
ready to fulfill all my needs,
Wings would grow too,
Yes they have to,
It waits till I become certain
Of the ground I stand.
Abandon the thoughts that
remain strangers to you.
Friday, November 18, 2011
The beauties stripped in healing and listening,
I shared my bit,
Pain came from outside, feelings and questions were
the roses with thorns.
Roses, why did the you look for it,
The eyes never said anything of it, may be
Your friends must have taken care,
To make you suffer and make you ill.
Do you see?
Seeing is not seeing, if you
still feel a pull,
Would you let it live or go
blind to the urge.
Going blind to the pull might make
The heart cold.
I shared my bit,
Pain came from outside, feelings and questions were
the roses with thorns.
Roses, why did the you look for it,
The eyes never said anything of it, may be
Your friends must have taken care,
To make you suffer and make you ill.
Do you see?
Seeing is not seeing, if you
still feel a pull,
Would you let it live or go
blind to the urge.
Going blind to the pull might make
The heart cold.
Sleep will bring an aide,
Aide or magic,
May be a day, but
where did so many stars
disappear.
One thing leads to another,
A thing cannot lack that,
It demands action, it
can never run out of it,
The source leads to source.
Eclipses hide the sun or
The moon, the eyes,
the greatest of treasure to me see a hand trapped in a movement,
To something new.
Aide or magic,
May be a day, but
where did so many stars
disappear.
One thing leads to another,
A thing cannot lack that,
It demands action, it
can never run out of it,
The source leads to source.
Eclipses hide the sun or
The moon, the eyes,
the greatest of treasure to me see a hand trapped in a movement,
To something new.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
What I miss is what seems everyday to my eyes.
Relationships disappear first, the furniture and the colors of the wall next. The garden where I walk, the book shops that I visit too.
When did I see?
The first time?
The first time I see an object I see the appearance, compare it to the object seen before, recognize it and name it. If it requires touch, I touch it or smell or taste as the case maybe.
The first time viewing is relative, it may require a second or some time and that is the start of missing it, because of constant seeing.
Relationships too are like objects. Although they can't be touched and smelled except in poetry or romance, their immediateness of sensation is lost as the object becomes everyday.
Sleeping, waking and pursuing too are missed. The anger that gets built in, the build up of frustration that follows through because of missing the entire process of life, which after some years becomes an everyday affair of living but never ever treated as one. Some hope still lies in if this everyday affair is treated like one in its actuality.
Relationships disappear first, the furniture and the colors of the wall next. The garden where I walk, the book shops that I visit too.
When did I see?
The first time?
The first time I see an object I see the appearance, compare it to the object seen before, recognize it and name it. If it requires touch, I touch it or smell or taste as the case maybe.
The first time viewing is relative, it may require a second or some time and that is the start of missing it, because of constant seeing.
Relationships too are like objects. Although they can't be touched and smelled except in poetry or romance, their immediateness of sensation is lost as the object becomes everyday.
Sleeping, waking and pursuing too are missed. The anger that gets built in, the build up of frustration that follows through because of missing the entire process of life, which after some years becomes an everyday affair of living but never ever treated as one. Some hope still lies in if this everyday affair is treated like one in its actuality.
There are times when I wake up with a start as if the entire night was months in period and I must have slept all that period. The eyes remain close and mouth open, sucking in air. As the eyes open they see two images and they move back and forth in those images. In one they are in a process that seems to be going on for months now, and in other only objects without anything to do, a fan, a pillow and a body. In first there are pleasures or sorrows or other experiences yet unnamed. The other nothing. Perceptions wanting to stay back all the time. Responsibility then starts kicking in and that seems like a punishments sometimes.
Monday, October 3, 2011
A dog called
Radical woke up one day
Radical opened it's eyes with a feeling
From a dream of what it
Wanted to be from what it was already,
It wanted to learn to trust again,
It did not bark,
Looked around and felt that
The time had slowed down
Radical was quiet and so was
It's morning, may be
It wanted it to be slow
Radical then moved slowly
Creating as if something that
Remained of it,
The lamp post which was
Sought after for it's morning dues
Today all that image
Remained in memory.
Radical felt as if it was creating
Time,
The movement to the bush took
A lot of steps,
The flowers in bush looked
Groovy it thought,
The sky when Radical looked up
Seemed lost,
It had to function
Yet it stopped.
Radical woke up one morning
To find the time stopped untill
It wanted it created.
Radical woke up one day
Radical opened it's eyes with a feeling
From a dream of what it
Wanted to be from what it was already,
It wanted to learn to trust again,
It did not bark,
Looked around and felt that
The time had slowed down
Radical was quiet and so was
It's morning, may be
It wanted it to be slow
Radical then moved slowly
Creating as if something that
Remained of it,
The lamp post which was
Sought after for it's morning dues
Today all that image
Remained in memory.
Radical felt as if it was creating
Time,
The movement to the bush took
A lot of steps,
The flowers in bush looked
Groovy it thought,
The sky when Radical looked up
Seemed lost,
It had to function
Yet it stopped.
Radical woke up one morning
To find the time stopped untill
It wanted it created.
I could eat anything as
Lovers always do
In truth and as a parting
Friend who gets along
Or gets lost.
Maps to another faces
Living is always the problem
If none do die
Life is never the question
How, how, how,
Is what I should never ask
Only I have to love
To overcome it whatever
That snaps.
I can eat anything
And hence I never lost.
Lovers always do
In truth and as a parting
Friend who gets along
Or gets lost.
Maps to another faces
Living is always the problem
If none do die
Life is never the question
How, how, how,
Is what I should never ask
Only I have to love
To overcome it whatever
That snaps.
I can eat anything
And hence I never lost.
The old tree had always
Old fears
Old nights and
Old romance
The shore stood to
Nothingness
The world it touched
Is where it was destroyed
The clouds remained
In chance
The things around it
Created it
Without the wind it could
Not see the sun
I in an eternity
And the times are over
And done
Mystical seeing, it
Should not be called
The seagull now says
There is nothing here to love
I reply
I experience the kiss
The knowledge of it never stops
That is my point of
Contact with your
World.
Old fears
Old nights and
Old romance
The shore stood to
Nothingness
The world it touched
Is where it was destroyed
The clouds remained
In chance
The things around it
Created it
Without the wind it could
Not see the sun
I in an eternity
And the times are over
And done
Mystical seeing, it
Should not be called
The seagull now says
There is nothing here to love
I reply
I experience the kiss
The knowledge of it never stops
That is my point of
Contact with your
World.
You could always go back to your monkey, no life is short and hence indulgence makes sense, you argue. The past responsible for everything, the monkey knows all the causes. But you could go back to it tomorrow. Today you could breathe through all channels no matter what the implications.
The monkey waits till the hunger is satisfied. It can't actually but it does having no choice.
The monkey waits till the hunger is satisfied. It can't actually but it does having no choice.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Being The Silence.
A bird split the silence
The split was the song
The song of my conscious, and
Of my silence was thus
Born.
Visions of ages and brains,
In my histories and my darkness, those
Riding waves and fools,
Now seemed dead,
By my own will only
I found and kept
My song of silence.
Being the silence is never
A resting place,
It is the will in action,
It is addressed, it is in an intention,
The only purpose being to
leave all around me
Absolutely alone.
The split was the song
The song of my conscious, and
Of my silence was thus
Born.
Visions of ages and brains,
In my histories and my darkness, those
Riding waves and fools,
Now seemed dead,
By my own will only
I found and kept
My song of silence.
Being the silence is never
A resting place,
It is the will in action,
It is addressed, it is in an intention,
The only purpose being to
leave all around me
Absolutely alone.
Life in bloom and glory
Life in wars and famines
I remain still
And sleep in them both.
I was born
And I find hence a reason
Justice and injustice is my
Earths foundation, so
When I go to sleep
As all do and someday
I will too,
I will not have a soul,
Now I do, yes
I have it now and
Will have till I die, till then
I would walk, I have to walk,
For me to sleep still.
Life in wars and famines
I remain still
And sleep in them both.
I was born
And I find hence a reason
Justice and injustice is my
Earths foundation, so
When I go to sleep
As all do and someday
I will too,
I will not have a soul,
Now I do, yes
I have it now and
Will have till I die, till then
I would walk, I have to walk,
For me to sleep still.
Cannot call new new
For new then not remains new
I seek, seek to see me in me
The drive of giving voice to a voice
Marrying a voice to a voice
Is it a goal new?
Your goal comes with a seal
Blinds a me in me
Yet in me,
I remain uncluthched
Lies I say to you
About your goal and it's seal
As a captive I remain one
But I know I cannot call
What you claim as new.
For new then not remains new
I seek, seek to see me in me
The drive of giving voice to a voice
Marrying a voice to a voice
Is it a goal new?
Your goal comes with a seal
Blinds a me in me
Yet in me,
I remain uncluthched
Lies I say to you
About your goal and it's seal
As a captive I remain one
But I know I cannot call
What you claim as new.
Let the house be left
A bird and it's flocks
Hungers in lust
Smells and memories
Entangled eyes and whispers
All be left.
Let the self be unguarded
The lover on an unknown
path whose
Self being the only source of free will
Never see it's opposite
But in silence
In diagonal vision to all outsides
The self shaved and unguarded.
Let laugh be in all kites
The skies turned on
The yes is always followed through
Millions of shades, the sky shows off
The kites in perfect match
In loops and the swings
Yet perfectly balanced
The laugh remains always in the joy
of the flight.
A bird and it's flocks
Hungers in lust
Smells and memories
Entangled eyes and whispers
All be left.
Let the self be unguarded
The lover on an unknown
path whose
Self being the only source of free will
Never see it's opposite
But in silence
In diagonal vision to all outsides
The self shaved and unguarded.
Let laugh be in all kites
The skies turned on
The yes is always followed through
Millions of shades, the sky shows off
The kites in perfect match
In loops and the swings
Yet perfectly balanced
The laugh remains always in the joy
of the flight.
Friday, September 30, 2011
The water flowed slowly, the turns and slopes were gentle. The garden built in a desert had a small pond. The heart clicked and the mind opened a door, it was afternoon and the sun high, the clock ran slow. A life was felt in the chest and a voice called out 'careful, cateful'.
There were noises, songs of the birds and from the leaves that swayed to the subtle breeze. Responses are different when the feelings feel safe, the breeze sang softly through the leaves. Open the self up sang the birds the time had always been right. The chains were always invisible, the water rippled joining them, its shivering and flowing spread a deep warm sensation to the song that yet seemed fragile.
The stars hidden in the glowing rays of sun stood still applauding this mesmerizing afternoon.
The chest now felt the pain through the simplicity and beauty of the music. Tears rolled down as they couldn't understand the light that music bought. I laughed. I felt like a fool.
There were noises, songs of the birds and from the leaves that swayed to the subtle breeze. Responses are different when the feelings feel safe, the breeze sang softly through the leaves. Open the self up sang the birds the time had always been right. The chains were always invisible, the water rippled joining them, its shivering and flowing spread a deep warm sensation to the song that yet seemed fragile.
The stars hidden in the glowing rays of sun stood still applauding this mesmerizing afternoon.
The chest now felt the pain through the simplicity and beauty of the music. Tears rolled down as they couldn't understand the light that music bought. I laughed. I felt like a fool.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
eyes when they smile, they
live and how did they get so far,
standup and tell me where
would you take them now
eyes when they smile, they
light up the works and glow
so tell me where would your
dreams take them now
eyes when they smile, they
bring rains in my whispers,
now you can tell whenever it
rains
eyes when they smile, they
play the feel of success learnt
from failures,
so now tell me would you
stop learning ever again
smile in my grips now
eyes reflecting them and
the voices of all that has
to come from all my
freedom that I have searched
live and how did they get so far,
standup and tell me where
would you take them now
eyes when they smile, they
light up the works and glow
so tell me where would your
dreams take them now
eyes when they smile, they
bring rains in my whispers,
now you can tell whenever it
rains
eyes when they smile, they
play the feel of success learnt
from failures,
so now tell me would you
stop learning ever again
smile in my grips now
eyes reflecting them and
the voices of all that has
to come from all my
freedom that I have searched
So much more
So more to do
In a paradise
The life and the love of
Life
The eyes free of running around
In time to come
In spaces to move
The heart always grows
To be young younger than
Young
In pockets where the pebbles would be
In travels where the water would be
In mind where the gold would be
So much more
So much more
I want to see
A witnessed travelor
A witnessed learner
Having fun
So much more
So much more
So more to do
In a paradise
The life and the love of
Life
The eyes free of running around
In time to come
In spaces to move
The heart always grows
To be young younger than
Young
In pockets where the pebbles would be
In travels where the water would be
In mind where the gold would be
So much more
So much more
I want to see
A witnessed travelor
A witnessed learner
Having fun
So much more
So much more
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Spread out were the sleep over an impractical waking state.
Eyes closed, eyes open. A dull ache in mind that remained open in this act of sleeping and waking up.
One day I thought or dreamt I would find me a time where I would not have to sleep or wake up.
I would then no longer register edginess or boredom and try to put myself to sleep and would not also register restlessness that often woke me up.
Would I be called weird or strange or absurd as to being one who never slept and woke up.
It was thirty past two and I felt no sleep.
Good, with all the noise in the world in the mind, a mad rush guaranteed no sleep. Would that day be today or would I be sick.
Am I asleep and thinking I am awake.
Or am I lazy taking excessive drowsiness to be a waking state.
What is this painful drowsiness. I can never hear me clearly and I keep demanding clarity all the time.
The door was closed, windows shut tight. The air from outside remained outside and so did thoughts. I was in a closed door room with windows shut tight.
How would the air in room know about their past and their future.
I thought the air must then be in some fantasy, as it was quiet and still. They were provided by some chill by the walls and the floor of the room that was big and mostly empty.
For me to touch one corner with the other took forty- five seconds and on that drowsiness that was some effort. Why was I walking at three in the night.
My feet were very sensitive to the chill of the flooring. The air kissed my skin as I walked, making me conscious then of my state.
Eyes closed, eyes open. A dull ache in mind that remained open in this act of sleeping and waking up.
One day I thought or dreamt I would find me a time where I would not have to sleep or wake up.
I would then no longer register edginess or boredom and try to put myself to sleep and would not also register restlessness that often woke me up.
Would I be called weird or strange or absurd as to being one who never slept and woke up.
It was thirty past two and I felt no sleep.
Good, with all the noise in the world in the mind, a mad rush guaranteed no sleep. Would that day be today or would I be sick.
Am I asleep and thinking I am awake.
Or am I lazy taking excessive drowsiness to be a waking state.
What is this painful drowsiness. I can never hear me clearly and I keep demanding clarity all the time.
The door was closed, windows shut tight. The air from outside remained outside and so did thoughts. I was in a closed door room with windows shut tight.
How would the air in room know about their past and their future.
I thought the air must then be in some fantasy, as it was quiet and still. They were provided by some chill by the walls and the floor of the room that was big and mostly empty.
For me to touch one corner with the other took forty- five seconds and on that drowsiness that was some effort. Why was I walking at three in the night.
My feet were very sensitive to the chill of the flooring. The air kissed my skin as I walked, making me conscious then of my state.
The four walls never slept
Never absent nor ill
Always thinking in details,
There was also a door and a window
They had to share.
Emotionally they needed an activity
A clear move perhaps and
To choose a direction
Through sensitivity of its mass,
It could sacrifice its form for
Its metamorphosis.
The other side of door
They discussed would be
A world of intelligence
A world of possibilities
New learning,
The truth they thought was always
Secured
If they could move.
Never absent nor ill
Always thinking in details,
There was also a door and a window
They had to share.
Emotionally they needed an activity
A clear move perhaps and
To choose a direction
Through sensitivity of its mass,
It could sacrifice its form for
Its metamorphosis.
The other side of door
They discussed would be
A world of intelligence
A world of possibilities
New learning,
The truth they thought was always
Secured
If they could move.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Bursting forth I see a coming
The warm of dreams
The streams I let flow
Yes, bursting forth I see a
Coming
I know you were there
Concealed to be searched by me
In mornings new mornings born
Deep inside somewhere
The warm of dreams
The streams I let flow
Bursting forth I see a
Coming
The peace always at odds
Its time to see a dream fly
All of its feeling touching the sky
I found me working
In the warm of dreams
The stream I let flow
Bursting forth I see a
Coming
The warm of dreams
The streams I let flow
Yes, bursting forth I see a
Coming
I know you were there
Concealed to be searched by me
In mornings new mornings born
Deep inside somewhere
The warm of dreams
The streams I let flow
Bursting forth I see a
Coming
The peace always at odds
Its time to see a dream fly
All of its feeling touching the sky
I found me working
In the warm of dreams
The stream I let flow
Bursting forth I see a
Coming
Observations from a mind to possibilities
That may haven't have been there or there
The meanings of imaginations or
Words that lead to stories
Of a possible me and a real you
We never know what is it
Till we only touch it true
The truth that remains to be acted upon
To deal with what exists
Hence we when we think
We don't Just think,
We think about something by default.
That may haven't have been there or there
The meanings of imaginations or
Words that lead to stories
Of a possible me and a real you
We never know what is it
Till we only touch it true
The truth that remains to be acted upon
To deal with what exists
Hence we when we think
We don't Just think,
We think about something by default.
Monday, September 26, 2011
The runs and the miles,
The faceless lonliness nights
The pleasures of love
My living for a personal love
This is the run of my life
And I can't stop it for the miles ahead
All or nothing
Shouts the mind
The runs and miles of my life
I spread my love like a seagull
And fly
Yes the flight for the spirit of
Mornings to come
The sunrise of my personal love.
Yes the runs and songs of my life.
The faceless lonliness nights
The pleasures of love
My living for a personal love
This is the run of my life
And I can't stop it for the miles ahead
All or nothing
Shouts the mind
The runs and miles of my life
I spread my love like a seagull
And fly
Yes the flight for the spirit of
Mornings to come
The sunrise of my personal love.
Yes the runs and songs of my life.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A story is what a mind wants
Story and it's telling keeps it hedged
Story of literature hence and thus came about.
Through a story
The girl child and the boy child knew
The Princess and the Prince
The gardens and the swings
The demons and the magicians.
Through a story
The maiden and the handsome knew
The love and the lovers nest
The kiss in the sleepless nights
The joy and the pain Of love.
Through a story the past looks in to
The future
Wants a future and hence desires as it wants it to be,
The storytelling like a young river in spate
Generates flames in the mind of tellers and
Listeners,
The flames nourishes the child in every being, be
it me, you, the leaves or the trees.
Story and it's telling keeps it hedged
Story of literature hence and thus came about.
Through a story
The girl child and the boy child knew
The Princess and the Prince
The gardens and the swings
The demons and the magicians.
Through a story
The maiden and the handsome knew
The love and the lovers nest
The kiss in the sleepless nights
The joy and the pain Of love.
Through a story the past looks in to
The future
Wants a future and hence desires as it wants it to be,
The storytelling like a young river in spate
Generates flames in the mind of tellers and
Listeners,
The flames nourishes the child in every being, be
it me, you, the leaves or the trees.
The hawker sold flutes,
I happened to buy one.
It is no ordinary flute said
the hawker and I smiled
at the extra I was charged for
the bamboo with some holes.
The flute was for my child who
Was left years ago on some
abandoned road.
What did I say, where was the child and how would the flute help to find it for me,
I understood now what the thinker I called hawker meant,
Yes, this wasn't an ordinary flute. Oh! I should have paid him more.
It's winds had the imagination
To carry me to the child I left
back on some abandoned road.
I happened to buy one.
It is no ordinary flute said
the hawker and I smiled
at the extra I was charged for
the bamboo with some holes.
The flute was for my child who
Was left years ago on some
abandoned road.
What did I say, where was the child and how would the flute help to find it for me,
I understood now what the thinker I called hawker meant,
Yes, this wasn't an ordinary flute. Oh! I should have paid him more.
It's winds had the imagination
To carry me to the child I left
back on some abandoned road.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
The leaf greeted me today
It sang a soliloquy about it's
Solitude, my mind it sang is always my truth, astonished,
I stood still for I heard what
was right and it came from a leaf.
I have seen you dark and blanked out and sit under this tree like a black cloud, who am I to know you may ask.
I smiled for I needed to learn more, I stood still thinking now.
The leaf was thinking and I was learning how from it the only tool to live.
Youth the leaf sang, stays like truth which can never be altered, till you don't fake your consciousness.
The walk today in the over grown grass would lead me to my
necessities, I was now an audience to the soliloquy of the leaf of me or it's.
It sang a soliloquy about it's
Solitude, my mind it sang is always my truth, astonished,
I stood still for I heard what
was right and it came from a leaf.
I have seen you dark and blanked out and sit under this tree like a black cloud, who am I to know you may ask.
I smiled for I needed to learn more, I stood still thinking now.
The leaf was thinking and I was learning how from it the only tool to live.
Youth the leaf sang, stays like truth which can never be altered, till you don't fake your consciousness.
The walk today in the over grown grass would lead me to my
necessities, I was now an audience to the soliloquy of the leaf of me or it's.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
I run,
I run no where.
I hide,
I hide a torture.
I contradict,
I contradict to reach a grave.
I ignore,
I ignore the reality by default.
SO,
Stand now,
Stand still now.
That what is reality,
Is what I am.
Use it now,
Use it for I am alive.
Indivisible,
Indivisible is what I am.
My good,
My good is my own.
My effort,
My only earn.
My earn,
My right.
My right,
My deserved.
My deserved,
My measure.
My measure,
My mornings.
I run no where.
I hide,
I hide a torture.
I contradict,
I contradict to reach a grave.
I ignore,
I ignore the reality by default.
SO,
Stand now,
Stand still now.
That what is reality,
Is what I am.
Use it now,
Use it for I am alive.
Indivisible,
Indivisible is what I am.
My good,
My good is my own.
My effort,
My only earn.
My earn,
My right.
My right,
My deserved.
My deserved,
My measure.
My measure,
My mornings.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Method lost to empty stretch
No one to teach
The time stood still
For me to sleep
A smile ran through
A pulse throbbed
A process refused to see
the empty stretch
the one to teach
the time that dared to stand still
The process fired passion
In love for ability
The man moved
To produce
A stretch that was now filled
with sunlight.
No one to teach
The time stood still
For me to sleep
A smile ran through
A pulse throbbed
A process refused to see
the empty stretch
the one to teach
the time that dared to stand still
The process fired passion
In love for ability
The man moved
To produce
A stretch that was now filled
with sunlight.
Who looked around the room
The curtains now pulled back
The sun would look the same
Or would have shifted it's sky
The curtains were heavy
The mornings ruled them
I bought them company of
my smiles
They too played the trees, birds and cars.
Stay said the bed
Dream more, but
I need to write
What I saw all night,
The day born for a purpose,
And I need to eat that cause.
The curtain knew I did
not know how to read or write,
The little me in fear looked at the bed,
It promised me a me not to see,
I started to rush across, to be caught in the
Curtains heavy, the sun then laughed
in my face, asking me to sing, till I
knew how to read or write.
The curtains now pulled back
The sun would look the same
Or would have shifted it's sky
The curtains were heavy
The mornings ruled them
I bought them company of
my smiles
They too played the trees, birds and cars.
Stay said the bed
Dream more, but
I need to write
What I saw all night,
The day born for a purpose,
And I need to eat that cause.
The curtain knew I did
not know how to read or write,
The little me in fear looked at the bed,
It promised me a me not to see,
I started to rush across, to be caught in the
Curtains heavy, the sun then laughed
in my face, asking me to sing, till I
knew how to read or write.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Hidden somewhere deep inside a
Dark heaven, a treasure and a
Storyteller,
Some butterflies swinging and
Some wantons kissing.
Hidden somewhere deep inside a
Traveller from a distant land,
A half sunk ship and a desert stretch and a hand that swings those sands to life.
Hidden somewhere deep inside a
Despair and a might, boundless Love in absolute wreck, a playground that is my classroom and eyes of my head.
The sharp ears knows of them, when
The howl of my inhale talks of them, as
The throbbing pulse knows them well,
If I should die, would they still remain
These hidden somewhere deep within?
Dark heaven, a treasure and a
Storyteller,
Some butterflies swinging and
Some wantons kissing.
Hidden somewhere deep inside a
Traveller from a distant land,
A half sunk ship and a desert stretch and a hand that swings those sands to life.
Hidden somewhere deep inside a
Despair and a might, boundless Love in absolute wreck, a playground that is my classroom and eyes of my head.
The sharp ears knows of them, when
The howl of my inhale talks of them, as
The throbbing pulse knows them well,
If I should die, would they still remain
These hidden somewhere deep within?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A voice asks, the mind
replies about a
This, that and other, we have no
time; don't ask, just do
as I say about this, that and other.
I don't want to your
This, that and other, the voice
says, Why do I have to bother about
Them, why be caught in a vicious circle
You alone are enough, I would want to
Walk without your this, that and other,
the voice continued.
Leave me some room was the reply
to the voice,
You can love and romance the walk,
But someones also got to attend about
This, that and other,
I don't know who is right, and
I have no time, but questions I have,
So please let me keep reminding us,
May be when you finish with this, that
and other you can then
go to your love, continued the reply
to the little voice.
replies about a
This, that and other, we have no
time; don't ask, just do
as I say about this, that and other.
I don't want to your
This, that and other, the voice
says, Why do I have to bother about
Them, why be caught in a vicious circle
You alone are enough, I would want to
Walk without your this, that and other,
the voice continued.
Leave me some room was the reply
to the voice,
You can love and romance the walk,
But someones also got to attend about
This, that and other,
I don't know who is right, and
I have no time, but questions I have,
So please let me keep reminding us,
May be when you finish with this, that
and other you can then
go to your love, continued the reply
to the little voice.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A drop that made me a sky
The dust that made me an arm
Within me the whole that came about
The head that then rolled
The sorrows and the care
A limited adjunct could be
dropped
The mind now rested on the top
The child in it restless and its
love wet like a lake
The voice was silent
So silent, when the drop
that made me a sky.
The dust that made me an arm
Within me the whole that came about
The head that then rolled
The sorrows and the care
A limited adjunct could be
dropped
The mind now rested on the top
The child in it restless and its
love wet like a lake
The voice was silent
So silent, when the drop
that made me a sky.
Friday, September 9, 2011
"and he shouted" she too shouting imitated him while standing on the porch, she was excited and the eyes seemingly would have popped out.
"I was thinking, no, wondering why you never returned my call, so you were with him again, and me Megha..... me, ME?", shouted Sneha,
" I know I'm sorry Sneha, no, I did think, but I was, you understand na?", laughed Megha as she flashed her ring and cried in joy.
She would have died, the ring would have then to go to grave with her, never to be removed by anyone and especially by fate.
FATE
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FATE - A point of birth to a point of death.
The body shivered as the nurse smiled saying, it's a girl. Wrapping her arms around the new born wet and warm she noted the time down. It was 2.45 am.
"your mother sleeps, you too will get to see her tomorrow" the nurse whispered as she left the labor room and headed to the baby room. She was tagged and the foot prints were taken, with a warm cap that would keep her head warm, she was all set for the world to come
Death - could it be an experience as birth.
Birth - was it as subtle as death now looks.
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Birth - was it as subtle as death now looks.
Sister Nancy in her late forties could never sleep the nights. Most of the times she worked the nights, rest she spent in the church. That night Jesus glowed and she cried.
Although she tagged the baby as Number 24, she thought of a name and asked Jesus to take care of her. She had helped delivered more than six thousand babies in the last 20 years of her service, but she knew this one was special.
"Nancy, Nancy," the nurse from the night shift called out as she entered to resume her duties, " that mother of Number of 24 did not survive the night, Dr. Meeta is waiting for you, I have to rush, you know I have to cook the meals for my husband, bye, rush, don't stand there, what's wrong, are you ok?"
"Yes."
Life - What would define it? Words?
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.... Life - If destruction can be observed, creation has to occur there.
It was Sunday and Nancy wasn't attending her church in a very very long time, in fact never had she missed the Sunday church. She was eager, something she hadn't been in years, she could now bring up baby Number 24 and she had bought a new house. It was built simply and just right for her and the baby, although a little far from the hospital and church, but it needed no further investments.
Her friends and the senior doctors would be coming in very soon for the naming ceremony, but she had already decided to give the baby and the house the same name - Megha.
It was the baby's mother's name and that is all that was known of Megha when she registered her own self for the delivery. The advertisements in all urban and semi-urban cities for Megha's relatives had yielded no results. This small town which had hardly any population had no orphanage too.
So Megha was born in this naming ceremony to understand someday from where had Megha come from.
Hinduism - It can't be a religion.
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Hinduism - A Bazar of sorts. But the bird here can fly.
"This would be very hard for me Father," Nancy spoke calmly, for the very first time in her life she was in a confession box, dark, cold .
"I would want her to grow as a Hindu, I mean can I?, I pray Jesus gives me strength, and I hope I won't,"
"No, no, my child, The Lord watches your intention, Nancy my child, go home, raise her as a Hindu, The Lord, the compassionate one has chosen you as her angel, go."
Being a nurse, delivering babies and being a parent were very very different, and then she was a single parent.
"you have energies coming in from planet venus," mocked Biji.
Biji had raised three children and was teaching Nancy about how to let Megha cry for atleast 15, 20 minutes before picking her up, and how to recognize if the cry was because of pain or otherwise.
"It's not like that Biji, you have known me since I started working night shifts in twenties, I could hardly sleep the nights that I was off on, so now its fine if Megha wakes up midnight,"
"I know, I know, so you are learning about Hinduism, I mean all these books there?"
"yes."
Freedom - It never comes or goes.
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Freedom - A spirit Re-Discovered.
The Shiva temple was very old, a very small door through a dark corridor ended at a bare Shivalinga.
Moortijee the caretaker was in his seventies, stood tall and was very thin, his diabetese had made him partial blind, but his voice had love that needed no language.
"I know it Amma," he spoke while holding Megha in his thin arms, "even a child has the voice that comes from heart and it can be understood irrespective of the language it speaks," he laughed.
"Come sit," called out Shyamala, Moortijee's wife, "I know you Nancy, I mean I have heard of you, will you have coffee?"
"Me, about me, how?"
"Thats not important, what is, is that you now sit in the boat to sail yourself, till now you left people, hmmmm, mothers on the river banks and went back, for first time you yourself stepped in to the boat," she laughed, " here take your coffee."
"Shyamala is a very old spirit, much much older than this temple too Amma," smiled Moortijee to Nancy,
"devotion is the most important, more than what you are and what you have, it is the spirit that re- discoveres freedom."
Nancy sat there the whole afternoon quietly, Megha slept too in the chambers of Shyamala.
Their wants were so few thought Nancy as she cooked a light meal and boiled the milk for Megha.
The peace she felt unnerved her, astounded by the ease of how she handled the few chores of that evening. Her diary waited for her to know all that happened today.
Flower - When it comes out of earth, one knows nothing here is lost.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flower - Flowering is a radical transformation. A happening.
Biji was on the floor laughing, splitting up, " it was like 2 am or somewhere there, and for some reasons I was tired and sleepy," Nancy spoke without being interrupted by Biji's laugh.
"And I'm waiting for her to finish her potty, after a while I guess she did, so I picked her legs up and was cleaning her bums, are you listening and what are you laughing so much, get up, I must've pressed the legs against the stomach, the spurt of creamy that came out was very fast. It took me whole of two hours to clean the bed and put the blankets to wash."
"you should've have called me, next time, hope you don't press her stomach the next time, ok, ok, but just call me."
"Look how the angel sleeps now."
"Oh, I forgot, look these are some clothes of Saina, you could use them," Biji placed the bag in the cupboard, " and I've made some kheer for you, warm it when you have it, ok?"
"Biji, you have been such.."
"when are you joining back?" Biji cut Nancy half way, she knew she couldn't handle a thank you from Nancy,
"soon",
"ok."
For next couple of hours Biji spoke about Saina. Her love was now pouring out in tears. Saina was married and would visit Biji once every two years. She was happy, but Biji missed her the most.
"Children just grow up very fast Nancy and especially daughters, I don't know why or how,"
"I hope and pray to Jesus for this child in every breath of mine, I hope I raise her well."
" You will, we will."
Body - How it supports itself on liquids alone.
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Body - When not hungry loves to discuss theories.
Question and answers form a large part of growing up. Nancy indulged in a lot of question answer session with Megha, talking to her sometimes while washing clothes too. The gagas and gigis of Megha assured her she hadn't toppled herself on the bed while she cooked or washed.
A small town is often at mercy of rickshaw transport, Nancy did knew a few of them, but when they weren't available, traveling became a tough ask. Rickshaws here could actually take part in Formula One Racing she thought.
As she stood that day with Megha in her hand and an appointment with a child specialist on her wrists who visited town once a week, she found no rickshaws. She cursed herself for not arranging a rickshaw a day before.
Suddenly a car stopped on the other side, she saw someone wave out to her, she couldn't make out who, but the car then moved again to take a U-Turn to come to her.
It was Lata, her school friend, she had changed, "Nancy?"
"Lata, oh! you, here, when did you come?"
"Come in, sit, where are you going?"
"a child specialist, but you, you carry on wherever you were going,"
"no, sit", she was firm, "I will drop you to the hospital and catch up with you, I would be leaving for France tonight, so come in, lets catch up."
Nancy and Lata had been bench mates in school, shared everything for ten years. Lata then was sent abroad for studies. They did continue writing for five odd years and then stopped, the last letter of Lata informed her of Lata's interest in the ideals of Karl Marx, Lenin etc., and the debates she had in the higher circles. Nancy thought of her being close minded then.
"so, Nancy, how has it been, you look the same, it still seems the summer of 74', and how's your husband? and this, what?
"This is Megha, and you have changed a lot, except your non stop talking,"
Nancy explained about how of and when of Megha, the questions from Lata kept pouring in, and Nancy thought that the traffic had increased or there was something wrong with the driver, he drove the car very slow.
"So are you still in to Marx?"
"Oh, no, not at all, why?"
"Well, your last letter said so,"
"those ideals were discussed over five course meals Nancy, in expensive diners etc., then once I was prisoned in Yogoslavia for three days, because I mentioned something very casually. Those three days of hunger killed all my ideals," and she laughed.
"Giving up something never feels good,"
"Yes, but if there is a huge bonfire lit inside of you, then there is or are no feelings left inside" Lata sighed and continued, "their teachings resulted in violence, while they spoke of peace and equality."
"So now?"
"so now what, married, two great kids, with one expecting, so now a grand kid for me, that's it,"
"and what made you come back here,"
she looked away, "pain, I guess, I could never lie to you, you know that."
Man - It can always see the two ends of all spectrums by default.
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Man - Expression of Existence in search of it's own self.
"I don't know why I called Lata for dinner, but now I want you to come too Biji, I can't handle her on my own."
Biji agreed and hung up.
"auntijee all the potatoes are fine, you need not check," said Ravi, who sold vegetables on the neighborhood, "you can ask all your neighbors about my father, we have provided fresh vegetables and fruits for many years now."
"Have you been to school?" asked Nancy still choosing potatoes irrespective of Ravi's assurances.
"yes, upto seventh grade."
"why did you stop then?"
"I failed thrice."
"So?"
"My father thought he would teach me how to buy and sell vegetables, and I would never fail here."
"Do you want to start again?"
"I don't know, is that it, want some fresh spinach, mangoes too would be coming soon, want me to book some for you?"
"no, no, how much for these, hope they are enough for today's dinner, how much?"
Lata arrived half seven, her face wrenched as if she had already gone through the entire conversation in her mind.
"this is Biji, and Biji Lata and I shared ten most loving years," Biji was arranging the chairs in verandah, she smiled and asked Lata to sit.
"Biji has been my jacket, God bless her, she has been such a great solid friend to me, very instrumental in bringing me in this quiet and peaceful neighbor."
"Don't bother what she says Lata, she drinks innocence of Megha all day long, what will you have to drink?"
"same as what Nancy has, Megha, ha ha,"
"there she sleeps now, might wake up in an hour."
"a coke or plain soda, anything would be fine, thank you."
"I don't want to be married anymore, I thought to myself, I was in two passionate relationships, and both had their quirks which made me uncomfortable. I wanted to simply run away from Paris." Lata's spoon hung in mid air as she looked lost, " I wanted to run and yet could not turn my back, I remember experiencing psychosomatic morning sickness, fever, rashes and all, then as the day progressed it subsided, the thoughts hid in my work, then in nights they resurfaced again."
"Did you see a doctor, you could be carrying then?" broke in Biji.
"No, surprisingly both couldn't get me pregnant, I don't know why, but yes to think of it , they couldn't. I was overwhelmed to be the bread provider to a painter and a struggling actor, both of them stole or I allowed them to steal my precious years, I was existing just as they were."
"You ok, need some more soda?" asked Nancy, "sssh Nancy," Biji whispered, "then?"
"I met Atul, Atul worked in the Indian Embassy, actually he helped me out, I was detained for carrying some pills that damn actor was addicted too, Atul bailed me out, we became friends and then how it goes, I eventually married Atul and settled, I was happy after a very very long time, Nitin, my first baby in my first year of marriage completed me, and life was full of laughter and traveling etc."
God - It never promises Justice or Revenge.
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God - It cannot have roots, it cannot know eternal.
"May be I was a woman caught between a child-me and an adult-me, always, marriage did not break that for me too. Atul was rationalist, pragmatic, me emotional, and Nitin our balance, I say the life was spectacular, the diners, the power play and the new places to visit. But somewhere I was becoming a drifter too, sometimes stubborn, leave me alone became a line that came out of my dreams too. Nitin was shifted to boarding school, I don't how that casual drinking became a regular drinking. So till I sobered boarding school for Nitin was the best, it was tough, real tough. Atul was very supportive, but his travels increased and I wasn't energetic enough to accompany him. A paradise that was once to me that which seemed eternal was a lonely place now. Emptiness, it cannot exist, it consumes you or you consume it."
Megah's cry grounded the three, and they rushed to her room, while Nancy prepared to feed her Biji made some coffee for all. It was nearing 10 pm, " so what time is your flight?" asked Nancy, " I'm not going tonight may be Monday night now, I came for my school leaving certificate and they said or asked me to come on monday now, I'm divorcing Atul next month."
Metaphysics - What is second hand? Love, bliss, emptiness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Metaphysics - Men Stray.
"Why don't you stay back here till Monday?"
"Why do men stray, Nancy, I had a bad phase for three years, but with birth of Simi, I was happy again, we bought Nitin back too. Simi and Nitin must have taken away all of time, may be that's when Atul strayed, I have always blamed myself for it, I still am not sure of it, why."
Nancy could not believe on Tuesday that Lata had delayed her flight back on Monday not because of school leaving certificate, that she acquired on Saturday afternoon itself, but because she wanted to open a fixed deposit account in the joint name of hers and Megha in the local bank. Megha now had an fixed deposit maturing after eighteen years of Rupees two lacs, that would be enough to take care of her studies etc, when she would be eighteen.
Nancy sat alone in church that afternoon praying for Lata. Her tears would not stop as the tree that held the strings on which she and Lata used to swing stood still as if they had never let the girls go outside their shade.
The girls were still there laughing, swinging, singing.
She sat there for a long time.
"Where were you," Biji was stroking Megha to sleep,"she has had her fill and has been washed."
"sorry, got carried away in memories, the child in us may be asleep, but it never leaves, when it wakes up, it never lets us sleep."
Memories - Always zeroes itself to tell you about the child in you.
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Memories - Knowledge.
The Sacred Heart School was vibrating in excitement. The results of the state-level interschool arts competition were to be announced.
The seniors sat ahead for they were the most tensed, the competition always threw surprise winners and the tension had gripped the auditorium.
The primary grade sat behind, some with their parents. Nancy sat with the first grader Megha in the second last line of the auditorium.
The first four grades took part in the internal school competition amongst the first four grades.
They all had to wait till the results of the inter-state competition was announced.
The auditorium suddenly went into pin drop silence, the Principle and the arts teacher had taken their place.
The Principle understood that he needed to delay the report, the silence was beautiful.
"The Sacred Heart School my dear students has had an history of excellence, our corridors are now packed with our achievements. There were 257 schools in competition compared to 235 schools last year. Here inside this envelope are the finalist, the runner ups and the winners of the competition. This year our school shall earn a special place in history."
"and Biji she slept the entire afternoon in my lap, the Principle kept talking, reading the prize winning essays and Megha comfortably slept in my laps, ha ha"
"and her painting?"
"she did get two stars for it and tomorrow would be their poetry saying competition in class."
"its too much to include the first three graders in this function, right?"
"we never had all this and yet we produced great artist and scholars, times have changed now, very competitive, ambition driven environment has been pushed to extremes. The other day I was reading Megha the Arjun's story in the Mahabharata , she had so many questions."
"lets take a day trip somewhere, Megha would love it,"
"that's a nice idea, lets do it on Sunday."
"there is a temple some 65 kilometers from here, with a bakula tree, it's very beautiful and in the mornings the ground is covered with fresh flowers fallen from the tree."
"okay, sounds nice."
Culture - It maintains its continuity.
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Culture - Break-Away is possible.
The ring did not let Megha sleep, she did not let Sneha sleep.
"Arun, Arun, Arun, I'm bored Megha, you have told me about his proposal six or five times now, stop it,"
"coffee then?" giggled
"but aren't you going back to UK to continue your job?"
"no, I'm settling down, I will quit, marry Arun, would have kids, and shop and just chill for the rest of my life."
"I don't like Arun."
"I know, I love him. And I'm twenty-six and I have known him from childhood Sneha."
Megha in her third year graduation had now known Arun from seven years now. Their relationship had seen break- ups and patch-ups. Arun was in the families construction business having left college in second year itself.
Dominant, rude and brute is what described him. Megha liked and disliked his being hard on himself and others.
Mr. Kumar, Megha's father was in business of semi-precious stones, traveling most of the time with offices in Germany and Libya. He had no blood relatives and few distant friends in Delhi, they hadn't been in touch for years. He still preferred India for Megha than Germany, Libya was out of question, but it was Libya that bought him a lot of money.
Megha was pampered and all her wishes fulfilled before even asked for. At twenty Megha needed no caretaker in the bungalow and she lived all by herself. A river down the road was where she spent most of the time with Sneha talking about traveling the world like her Papa. She had decided to do her post graduation in UK in finance.
Arun never wanted her to study and this led to many of the fights.
She wasn't talking to him now rather never, he had forced himself on her and she wasn't ready. She had slapped him and now wanted to leave for UK mid- term. Arun too left for some distant site for work.
"no Papa, I want to study in UK, I am dead sure of it, make it possible for me and when are you coming back?"
"soon..." the phone went dead.
Money - Provides incredible support.
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Money - Earn it or marry it.
Kumar could just go back packing anytime. Strongly built with a square face he decided to leave for Brazil instead of leaving back for India. His father had warned him if he did not return back he would severe all relationships with him.
The heat on the streets of Rio was killing and the nights hot. The nights as the day always had people on street participating in something or other. Carnivals he had heard were worse, noisy, loud, bright and colorful. He stopped by the corners absorbing the sound and colors.
Woman walked with clothes clinging to the curves, the heat in their eyes glowed.
"Rose, and you?',
"Kumar, you from India?"
"No Germany, but ancestors yes from India."
"Vacation?",
"yes and a no, with my parents, dad whose on work and my mom attending some circus, me utilising his hard earn."
Her thighs slipped off the stool and the cigarette fell on her linen skirt that barely covered her thighs, she was already drunk. Kumar just managed hold her and got the cigarette before it could make a larger hole.
With the stick between his lips he held her strong and she laughed.
She threw him away and managed to sit back still laughing. The hole in the skirt disgusted her, Kumar's eyes looking at it made her more angry, she took it off and ran towards the water.
"you up, look outside see how beautiful the morning is Rose, coffee? aspirin?" her mom spoke softly, " your dad was furious last night, but I guess you don't remember any of it, and who is this Kumar, where did you meet him and fall in love with?"
"kumar?, ah, aspirin and some coffee and my cigarettes,"
"no cigarettes, you got some guy with you yesterday night called Kumar, you were semi-naked, drunk, and said that you wanted to marry Kumar then and there, we knew you were drunk and so was Kumar, he sleeps in the next room, your dad checked his passport and some other documents in his back pack, he says Kumar has just finished his MBA in US and at present talking to his parents in India."
"I don't know who this Kumar is mom serious, I need my cigarettes, CIGARETTES PLEASE or I will die now."
"how's she?"
"on sleeping pills as regular, but milder ones today, what did you find of the boy?",
"his father has disowned him, he hung before I could ask him anything."
"the cops said he saved Rose, he seems to be ok to me'"
"I think he is up, will speak to him soon."
Rose was up again by afternoon, feeling heavy with pain all over, she walked up to the corner where her purse hung, she took out a cigarette and lit it.
She walked slowly towards the kitchen, as she passed her father's room she saw him in conversation with a man.
She went near the door and could now hear then discussing Lebanon and the political situation there. Boring she thought and was about to leave when she heard her father calling her.
"Rose?, you ok, come here, sit, you know Kumar, he saved you from drowning yesterday,"
Kumar seemed to look away out somewhere in infinity, not even listening what the old man was saying to Rose.
"whatever dad, I'm going for a swim behind, see you later."
did you eat?, your mom left some eggs and toast for you, she would be back soon,"
"damn."
The love, he felt for her last night intensified with the job offer to run a new office in Lebanon fired Kumar. She was there on her back floating on water, her slim body with her beautiful long legs stopped him in his tracks.
"swim?"
"no, I'm good,"
"smoke?"
"your face is never expressionless, something about you that kills me inside'"
"ha ha ha, never heard that line before, so what did you trade with my dad?"
"my freedom for your hand."
Thoughts - Perpetuate on their own.
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Thoughts - The dog often chases it's own tail.
The day trip excited Nancy and it showed on Megha too. After a very long time she thought. She had never attended the picnics with her hospital colleagues, always stayed back.
Seasons bring in happiness she thought and every life in it's life must have four seasons. The play of five elements that she read in one of the spiritual books that she had bought for own self had intrigued her.
The sunshine filled the veranda and there was Biji waiting for her, "Biji and and her sandwiches, ready to sail maam,"
shut up, good morning, just give me five minutes and I will be with you."
The drive was halted by many small breaks, some for photographs and some for Megha.
Finally the smell in the air changed, "that is Bakula in the air Nancy, hmmm."
The temple sat on a brick path and the backyard had this huge landscape with a deep valley, the bakula stood proud in the right hand corner, the flowers had weaved a carpet around it.
"Biji this is beautiful, very refreshing, you must have come here before,"
"no, I wanted to but my husband, forget it.... but now I can do and be what I want."
"Megha, stop, don't run fast"
" Mommmma," her small thin voice sang, "look."
"that's a squirrel my child."
Biji had a sweet voice and she could sing too, Nancy too learned a great deal about Biji that afternoon,
she said something that went on repeating in her mind all the way back to house and through the night, "how could God invent eternal, when I live this day, I live because moments aren't eternal, if my husband wouldn't die, I wouldn't be here free."
House - The walls exist on the outside too.
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House - A concept that is overrated.
'Reward and punishment are tools of economics, dealing with the reward or punishment is the science of economics. So much has already been said, written and studied about it. How the living deals with it is what takes the studies further, is what helps remove contradictions from existing theories.'
The auditorium applauded as Megha paused to sip some water.
'Are the stakes solely responsible for cheating? Individual representatives of state or individuals that form government of a country can cheat the summits and the organization they belong to depending on their own individual stake or collective stakes. History has time and again proved how trade unions have cheated the cause they fought for. This aspect of economics forms the greater part of game on the countries where trades decide the future of the strength of their respective currencies. I would like to end my speech with a thought that was inspired by my late grand father - Cheating has to be understood first hand so as to not to become a skeptic. However paradoxical this may sound, it is not so. ThankYou.'
Nottingham school of economics was discussing the Globalization and had invited the students to speak. Megha's speech unnerved a few teachers there, others thought it as a simple need to present contradictory ideas to show oneself off.
Dr. Morgan was impressed and waived Megha to meet her after the session.
Arun harassed Megha for first six months in UK calling her from India and writing letters. She thanked God for Arun's financial condition not allowing him to fly to Nottingham.
Here she lived in an apartment with three other girls. They would not see each other as all would remain locked in their respective rooms, sometimes bump each other in kitchen and would return back to the room till the one who occupied finished her work in kitchen. One of them was a Chinese and she had her boyfriend in her room all day long. Disgusting she thought and complained about her to their land lady who promised to speak to the Chinese about it.
Harish had a tough time in Nottingham, his financial condition back home made him think even to buy bread which when he converted in rupees seemed very expensive. He would sleep often with a slice of bread and cold water in his stomach. The determination held on his face used to motivate Megha but she use to hesitate to approach him. She knew a smile would end up in affair.
'Mr. Morgan, can I come in?' knocked Megha,
'please do, come in, here sit.'
'thankyou,'
'give me a minute please, we are expecting one more student, would you care for some tea?'
'later, who are we expecting?'
'Harish, you know him, don't you?'
Plum - When it falls the palms must be stretched out.
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Plum - Prunus Mume
Dr. Morgan was fifty-five years old man. His reading glasses were big for his face thought Harish. He sat there in the professor's chamber unsure of the project that he had to complete with Megha.
Six months lost he thought.
"sorry, did you say anything?" Megha asked.
Harish shrugged. "No."
Could she read minds or did he think aloud he thought.
" Anything bothering Harish?" this time Dr. Morgan asked from behind the piles of his books.
"No, just that," he sat gazed, looking at the notes in his hands given by Dr. Morgan.
"yes,"
"just that, hope I generate enthusiasm for this line of work."
"Don't worry, you will, so you and Megha will assist me with the field work and gather as much statistics you both can from manufacturers, distributors and bankers."
Megha left without saying a goodbye, probably she wanted nothing from me thought Harish.
The field work was carried out as messengers would carry out a delivery. The statistics would or would not benefit anyone was a question that often filled Harish's mind.
"Lunch?" asked Megha in one of their field trips.
"No, not hungry."
"You could sit with me, till I have mine."
"I have to finish my reports."
"Will help you later, lets have lunch." She knew he was hungry and after some prodding and provoking he did order a sandwich for himself.
"Tell me about you, where do you come from etc, etc, or whatever you like."
"Nothing much, I'm the only son, my father is a credit manager in a bank who wants to see me heading a branch of a foreign bank one day."
"hmmmmm, you sound like my father before he met my mother."
"what did you say, I could not follow you."
"nothing, just said I come from a luxurious background and my father had a vague idea of where I am."
Later while walking back home he broke the ice for first time and asked,
"are you concerned with what happens with you?"
"No, but right now I want to do this, hence I'm doing this." She went right close to his face and wished him goodnight.
"Belief and questioning go together," said Megha to Dr. Morgan, " right Harish? Till you ask you aren't certain, once you are, you have no questions."
"I may stop asking out of fear too," replied Harish.
"yes, but a true economist only observes, the observation is the conclusion."
"Brilliant Megha." Dr. Morgan smiled.
Restlessness - It has a source.
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Restlessness - Energies that bubble like Lava.
"I haven't been able to make friends Megha and its been like eight months now, I know this is not your first time alone in the world but for me, who never stepped out of his small town, it is." Harish turned and was about to get up when Megha pulled him back on to her, "you have me."
"Yes and this too was because you..." her fingers stopped his breath, then she kissed the remaining air out of his lungs.
Megha had a brilliant mind, she even excelled in the quiz contests. Her visual memories amazed a lot of people. She had many friends and her alertness was always discussed by the teaching staff.
Harish and she never exchanged any talk in the campus. Harish had managed a part time job from the field visits he had made during the project work of Dr. Morgan.
His restlessness was a great high for Megha, she could feel it in his muscles and his breaths, almost like an addict she had to go to him for her fix. For him his liberty for expressing his desires and being himself without any inhibitions the high.
Memories operates almost differently for all thought Megha, amazed at her father and Arun and how her's operated. Mr. Kumar spoke only when Megha called, mostly for money transfer. Arun's complete stop of letters and calls to her got to her now. She did feel guilty for being angry and agitated when Arun wanted to get close to her and here she was with the releases she felt through Harish. Every act with Harish bought Arun closer to her.
The letter to Sneha was more about this understanding, this need for clarity about her memory than about Arun. Sneha had no clue about Megha and Harish and in her innocence she got in touch with Arun asking him about his wellbeing and letting him know about Megha's concern, obviously she exaggerated. A casual question about Arun's whereabouts was mishandled by Sneha.
She knew she had made a wrong move.
Ignorance - Born from feeling Bad.
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Ignorance - One can live of it by choice.
Lebanon had always fired Rose's father Mr. Patel's imagination since 58'. Beirut was always talked about in his circles. His present offices could not offer him the luxury to start something there. The 60's was very vibrant for Beirut. He made a lot of tours there with young Rose, who fell in love with French there. Mr. Patel was in love with the heaven called Paris of the middle-east.
It was by 65' by which Mr. Patel got a shot at his fixation to own an outlet there. As Kumar left for his honey moon to the Swiss, he left for Lebanon.
Kumar was late again, his flight to Lebanon was at 12 noon, he would meet Mr. Patel there. Rose wanted to stay back as their two month long honey moon had exhausted her nd she had to get back to her friends, so it was Kumar flying alone to his first ever job, his first ever office to be run by him alone.
The overwhelming humidity of August made Kumar remember Porbunder and the first night of his in Beirut was spent in flashes of his journey from a small sleepy town to a fashionable, fast moving and a very friendly city.
He picked up Arabic and french in no time and his letters to Rose were now in french asking her to join him soon. He could work without taking a break Mr. Patel had claimed proudly and this had disappointed Rose a lot, she was now in no mood to go. Rose's mother did know of their violent fights during the honey moon as they stayed in a friend's chalet there. She never mentioned it to Mr. Patel as he was busy investing money for Kumar. There was a night she had spent in a hospital with a minor head injury, the cause mentioned was a slip on stairs, but she knew it wasn't so. She was more than happy to have Rose with her. The heat of August in Beirut was a good excuse for Mr.Patel and Kumar. She knew behind Rose's 'all being well' exterior loomed a madness.
Masochist - They have to be cultivated.
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Masochist - The body in which the head is detached.
Kumar was always demanding from the body, his body. He drove it through fast cars, alcohol, drugs and sex.
Mr. Patel knew of his escapes but kept quiet for Kumar's running the office was more than perfect. He was also fine with Rose not disturbing him.
"Is he developing his body or destroying it?" Mr. Patel one night after a couple of drinks thought aloud to his wife.
"ha ha, he swims in your soul dear, why does it bother you?, anyways Rose is leaving for Beirut next week."
The beginning of seventies was changing the streets of Beirut. Skepticism ruled the man on the street. Kumar too felt the heat as sales dipped. He use to come home early to only find Rose slashed, drunk crazy.
The telegram announced Mr. Patel's death, a massive heart attack he suffered in the bathroom while he showered, the office and shop were closed for the first time in four years.
"He has no head Mom, only a body that demanded sex all the time, if I was drunk he used to leave me alone, but then offlate he used to rape me."
" You walk out on him Rose?"
No, I see my body as a thing too now mom, addicted to his dangerous moves."
Mrs.Patel was very sick now and Rose pushed her frailty through her talks. She wished to be left alone and thought if Rose was driving herself to madness who was to stop her.
The extreme entertainment finally got the universe to plant a story in her womb. She hid it from Kumar till she knew she had developed cancer.
Kumar took both the news with the closure of his first office because of violence on the streets of Lebanon with more liquor. He pushed himself harder, the fire burned like hell in him, swimming in the success of business.
The fishes in Rose swam dead.
Megha was born to a very sick and spiritual Rose. She was sad and yet connected to Megha in the Gulf of Mexico.
Megha never understood the bald head of Rose, she was asking questions to God in her diary.
Healers - A million prayers brings one to you too.
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Healers - A way to be human again.
Nancy was happy to see her swing. Little Megha would sit on the swing and twirl it round and round till it was all tightened up to rotate back to it's original state.
Her stance in the kitchen when hungry was like a stalk with little just about to bloom flowers.
Sometimes she would walk in a drunken state, never at a place, from here to there like some butterfly.
"You lose a great deal if you don't observe children in this age, it's an education for us." Biji spoke while cooking curry.
"I can't take of my eyes from her. my father would have done the same, may be," relaxed Nancy in the soft rays of setting sun.
"You had to know or hear my mother speak of me with sand, me in sand and sand in me, she said this for all children, how and what sands do to us in that age, pity we have no beaches here."
"Could we watch a movie, some movie about sea and beaches or oceans, or this summer we could go somewhere?" Nancy got up and raced to the kitchen.
"Yes, yes." laughed Biji.
"The other day as I came out of bath, she was standing by the door, waiting for me to finish and step out, her face full of questions, pale and she might have had shrunk too, she held my hand and took me to the veranda and showed me a pigeon that was lying still, I touched to find it being dead and she ask me where is the bird, I was surprised by her question, she might have been occupied with what was happening, she might have seen it in movement and then it going still, so she wanted to know what happened, and I was wondering how could I explain her."
"yes how could one explain it being alive or dead to this age."
"Sometimes all these books how about teaching children are all lies, I threw all the books out," laughed Nancy.
"How did you manage?"
"managed it, but all my answers made her ask , then momma where did it go? her eyes never left my eyes."
Opposites - Anything we know of it is speculation.
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Opposites - Everybody understands in bits.
"They are promoting me, seems like work trouble, I guess more of paper work and management issues," Nancy seated herself besides a sleeping Megha, she took of her glasses and continued, "I have to sort this out."
She did think of quitting the job but was afraid to act. Her concern for Megha and giving her a hundred percent attention was the cause behind the fear.
Megha had now some friends in the neighborhood and she spent the evenings with them. Biji would always accompany her and never leave her out of her sight.
" Hug Biji and she won't be hurt anymore." Nancy smiled to a pale Megha.
"No hugs, no kisses, she knows very well she can't hide behind you."
"then bring me my own dog, I want it," Megha suddenly threw a fit.
"this all your fault Nancy, look she is turning in to a brat now; and she was fine actually, the minute she saw you, she knew she had a cover." Biji winked at Nancy and kept the voice cold and stern.
" listen to BijiMa Megha, you cannot play with street dogs, they can harm you."
"I know tili from when she was a small pup momma, BijiMa saw it only today," the voice was now flowing in tears, "ok, ok, we will see about it tomorrow, now come here, let moma get fresh, she has just come back. Come here, are you hungry?, want some noodles," Megha came out and followed her BijiMa.
"Can I have a small pup of my own BijiMa?"
Much later in the evening as Nancy sat drinking coffee she pondered and smiled, "Remember Biji her potty training took so much time, she refused to let go off the diapers."
"yes, yes but I guess the diapers are an addiction of sorts, they provide safety to the falls, the child senses it can fall when ever and it does not hurt; and the child feels dry all the time, they cost a lot too, in our times we had almost fifty small cloths hanging all over the place, drying." laughed Biji, "I know, the diaper packs wouldn't even last a week," said Nancy while stroking the neck of Megha who was deep in some fantasy dream. She smiled in her sleep.
Pets - At a certain age they are always around.
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Pets - Unrestrained Moments of Joy.
"It's a fawn colored Labrador retriever puppy, female, I checked with the owners, they seem to be good people." Biji had called up Nancy during lunch hours.
"How much?"
"Eight thousand rupees Nancy."
"Expensive?",
"yes, but one look in her eyes and you don't won't to look anywhere,"
"you won't show it to Megha before buying it Biji?"
"You want me to, actually it isn't necessary."
"May be you should."
"Okay, I guess the owner has had a litter of eight puppies."
Megha named her new friend Leesa. Leesa was in her seventh week and had black button eyes that wouldn't leave Megha's eyes. The head use to twist and Megha would know Leesa wants to be carried.
Leesa would run all over the place, tumble at will and keep staring Megha. She was proud and the friends that spent the evening with her and Leesa as their center of attention would thrill Megha. Every evening she had a story for Nancy, Leesa did this, Leesa did that, her oratory resembled Biji a lot.
"Momma look BijiMa and I made a box house for Leesa, she can now sleep near my bed."
The corrugated box house lasted only for one night, the next day Nancy hunted for a carpenter to get one simple box made for Leesa.
Every morning there was a new tantrum of taking Leesa to school too. Every evening Nancy thought she had gone back in to past when she bought Megha home. Medicines, what food to give, what not to give filled all the spare hours.
"Biji, all your fault," said Nancy one night completely exhausted."
"Mine, look who's telling me this." and she burst out laughing,
"she was trying to make her sit and shake her bums, Oh Nancy! you had to see it to believe it how hilarious it was."
Therapy - Try A Puppy.
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Therapy - The indeterminate perception is always attributive by default.
Rose one morning happened to read Megha's diary titled 'Letters to God'.
She was touched by her innocence. She thought may be some people lose everything, the loss takes away the imagination to see the future. The loss is not because of some speculation in market or some trust issues or because of arrogance, not because of losing a limb or a lover. The loss has to happen in the corridors of minds, that individual's mind.
Megha was starving she thought. 'I have no right to take her away from Kumar,' she wrote in her letter to her aunt, 'I see here people staying in the premises of the churches, amongst them some barely live human existence, wire fences marks the limitation of their world. Then there is this human spirit that asserts itself which I realize reading Megha's diary. She sometimes does play with those children along the barb wires, laughing and singing. In me I see a new leash of surviving and being resilient, for Megha at least.'
The letter was never posted.
Megha was very humble, the teachers and Nuns called her human touch very striking. She was open and vulnerable.
She was later to understand the definitions of good and bad fortunes and their disadvantages and advantages.
She trusted the guardian after the death of Rose to return to her father in Germany.
She kept her self open in the fire that burnt her soul, the sun rise she saw from the window of the plane she flew would bring her more troubles she knew. She was eight and she knew somehow the value of hope.
Work - It is what that has to be DONE.
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Work - Each cognition depends on past perception.
Kumar had lost sense of chronological time. His traveling made no sense of day and night. He often found himself in an isolated tunnel losing himself for hours together.
The last he remembered of Rose was a pale face in pain asking for a medical diagnosis, he had left her lying in the hospital as he had a flight to catch.
Today he waited with bare walls for his daughter. He had no clue what and how he would welcome the child.
He hired a care taker and saw to it that he renovated a room and filled it with toys.
"Of course I forgive you, Mumma asked me to do so and the Sunday- Church class I attended always taught me forgiveness," Megha replied softly to Kumar's question of forgiving him.
"but your photo that Mumma showed me looked different from you," she concluded to sit without talking to Kumar for the rest of the drive back home from airport to house.
Megha couldn't sleep for most of the nights, she laid awake having lucid visions, which seemed to be more real than reality.
She first made friends with a cat, she called her cheenu. Cheenu purred and meowed and filled Megha's days with laughter. Cheenu used to watch Megha from breakfast to dinner, when she bathed, till she tucked herself in bed. Sometimes Cheenu disappeared for hours together and Megha as the time passed used to become sure of her not returning back. She would come back to the sobbing Megha, who then for next couple of days tie her and sleep.
Kumar had now changed three care- takers, he could not handle her passive-aggressive behavior. Always saying yes to all her demands, he again took Megha as work unable to crank up any emotions inside of him. The only thing that comforted him was Megha looked and walked like him. Her being quiet for hours together would not hurt him, but now she had to join a regular school. He decided to send her to India, and put her in a boarding school.
Megha was happy to be out of that place but she pleaded her dad to let cheenu come with her.
The next morning she got up to find Cheenu missing again but this time she never returned.
Notes - They have to contain a life.
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Notes - Whatever is there is your own personal travels.
The boarding school seemed strange to Mehga, nobody spoke to her. The ceilings were so high, they seemed too dark in corners. She had a confidence in her walk and wanted to be the best in class. She asked Kumar to buy a small house and stay there instead of the school in her letter. Kumar agreed but from the next term and that if she fared well in this term. She kept her promise and so did Kumar.
Sneha walked in to where Rose had left Megha. Sneha became her only friend. Sneha's parents visited the school often and when they took Sneha out for lunch, Megha accompanied them too. Sneha's mother liked Megha's long black hair, she use to sit with her and before leaving them back at hostel give them both a nice head oil massage.
She finally thought with Sneha around nothing bad will ever happen to her and from now on everything would be fine, her dad had already promised a small house near the school after the term and then she and Sneha would stay together there.
Kumar was surprised with the stack of letters on his deck when ever he came back home from Megha, some of them were blank pages, some had a lot to say. He knew Megha could read herself from inside and the best way to avoid her would be to keep reminding her that he had lot of work.
Mornings - Omnipresent.
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Mornings - Melodies from skies.
"The driver won't take Leesa and the watchman in school too, so Megha you can't take her," Nancy's voice now going cold.
Megha's voice still had a song in her requests, the mornings were filled as usual with Megha asking Leesa to accompany her and Nancy refusing her till Megha actually boarded the bus. The culprit thought Nancy in a very funny way was Leesa too, the way she looked at her when her voice went cold on Megha.
The next hour passed in smiles and tears from the inner most depth of her being.
Megha was growing, changing, like a pure source, she was music to ears. She was developing amazing capacities for music.
"I know it Nancy, I see her, may be my dreams, may be those will be hers tomorrow, but the girl can sing." Biji sounded in a distant voice. Nancy was busy with the sweater, it was almost complete and before November Megha would have a fawn colored sweater same as Leesa's fur. Biji was half asleep and knew Nancy had already dreamt for Megha.
Nancy's imagination sometimes questioned God's gambling attributes and other times she used to remain in tears thanking God for Megha. The days and nights were all one, they were simply glorious.
The town planners were thinking of building a lake, the news paper head lines spoke about it and how then everybody could enjoy a full moon night by the lake. " Good for us, finally something constructive from our government Nancy," Biji sighed and gave the papers to Nancy, "Biji maa what is lake?" asked Megha.
"You, my child, you are a lake." replied Nancy.
"A big, very big puddle of water," laughed Biji looking at a very confused Megha, "Don't listen to Momma."
"Can we take Leesa there then?" Leesa too looked at Biji.
"yes, yes, yes," laughed Biji hugging Megha.
Past - It is all over your body.
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PAST - Where are you from.
Dr. Morgan often alone in his chambers was lost in his thoughts about Megha. He was an alcoholic who was now sober from past ten years, but off late his unconscious mind dreamt of liquor.
The cause for his wants of liquor primarily being thoughts and writings of Megha. They bewildered him. Her past he thought had to be known, for in it were the cause for her views and her clumsy brilliance about an economical utopia.
Although he rejected her idea in class by a wave of a hand, he longed to discuss them alone with her. Her initial reports claimed about how she wanted to participate in times to come about international trades and exploit her journalistic abilities to uncover trades that affected crimes and political turmoil in countries.
As a writer he knew she had to know all aspects of morality and ethics and all their echoes that were now surviving to maintain a conflict free trades for world.
His own alienation came about in his younger years. His insights that he kept to himself was the reason for his growing up as an introvert.
One of Megha's passages that he read and re read and the reason being he thought was not to interpret it.
He feared his interpretations more than Megha's unspecified ideas, unspecified ideas he thought were again according to him alone.
Megha defined economics by stating that objects bought the human life in a cyclic and a mechanical cause and effect chain. A chain that chained the human beings now.
The finest passage according to Morgan read:
' If no right or wrong is where mind functions, a country whose governance pushes weapon production and specialization in arms trade would obviously do little to rationalize racial discrimination. Value to value, what would remain would always be a zero sum game. Do odds lead a productive life? Do odds lead a productive civilization? Why are we now thinking and worrying about fundamentalism, when we know about its causes. The cause is what now decides the stakes and stakes decides the morality of trades."
Megha he thought needed guidance. He decided to meet her father.
Gambler - Borders on transcendental causes.
"I was thinking, no, wondering why you never returned my call, so you were with him again, and me Megha..... me, ME?", shouted Sneha,
" I know I'm sorry Sneha, no, I did think, but I was, you understand na?", laughed Megha as she flashed her ring and cried in joy.
She would have died, the ring would have then to go to grave with her, never to be removed by anyone and especially by fate.
FATE
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FATE - A point of birth to a point of death.
The body shivered as the nurse smiled saying, it's a girl. Wrapping her arms around the new born wet and warm she noted the time down. It was 2.45 am.
"your mother sleeps, you too will get to see her tomorrow" the nurse whispered as she left the labor room and headed to the baby room. She was tagged and the foot prints were taken, with a warm cap that would keep her head warm, she was all set for the world to come
Death - could it be an experience as birth.
Birth - was it as subtle as death now looks.
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Birth - was it as subtle as death now looks.
Sister Nancy in her late forties could never sleep the nights. Most of the times she worked the nights, rest she spent in the church. That night Jesus glowed and she cried.
Although she tagged the baby as Number 24, she thought of a name and asked Jesus to take care of her. She had helped delivered more than six thousand babies in the last 20 years of her service, but she knew this one was special.
"Nancy, Nancy," the nurse from the night shift called out as she entered to resume her duties, " that mother of Number of 24 did not survive the night, Dr. Meeta is waiting for you, I have to rush, you know I have to cook the meals for my husband, bye, rush, don't stand there, what's wrong, are you ok?"
"Yes."
Life - What would define it? Words?
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.... Life - If destruction can be observed, creation has to occur there.
It was Sunday and Nancy wasn't attending her church in a very very long time, in fact never had she missed the Sunday church. She was eager, something she hadn't been in years, she could now bring up baby Number 24 and she had bought a new house. It was built simply and just right for her and the baby, although a little far from the hospital and church, but it needed no further investments.
Her friends and the senior doctors would be coming in very soon for the naming ceremony, but she had already decided to give the baby and the house the same name - Megha.
It was the baby's mother's name and that is all that was known of Megha when she registered her own self for the delivery. The advertisements in all urban and semi-urban cities for Megha's relatives had yielded no results. This small town which had hardly any population had no orphanage too.
So Megha was born in this naming ceremony to understand someday from where had Megha come from.
Hinduism - It can't be a religion.
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Hinduism - A Bazar of sorts. But the bird here can fly.
"This would be very hard for me Father," Nancy spoke calmly, for the very first time in her life she was in a confession box, dark, cold .
"I would want her to grow as a Hindu, I mean can I?, I pray Jesus gives me strength, and I hope I won't,"
"No, no, my child, The Lord watches your intention, Nancy my child, go home, raise her as a Hindu, The Lord, the compassionate one has chosen you as her angel, go."
Being a nurse, delivering babies and being a parent were very very different, and then she was a single parent.
"you have energies coming in from planet venus," mocked Biji.
Biji had raised three children and was teaching Nancy about how to let Megha cry for atleast 15, 20 minutes before picking her up, and how to recognize if the cry was because of pain or otherwise.
"It's not like that Biji, you have known me since I started working night shifts in twenties, I could hardly sleep the nights that I was off on, so now its fine if Megha wakes up midnight,"
"I know, I know, so you are learning about Hinduism, I mean all these books there?"
"yes."
Freedom - It never comes or goes.
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Freedom - A spirit Re-Discovered.
The Shiva temple was very old, a very small door through a dark corridor ended at a bare Shivalinga.
Moortijee the caretaker was in his seventies, stood tall and was very thin, his diabetese had made him partial blind, but his voice had love that needed no language.
"I know it Amma," he spoke while holding Megha in his thin arms, "even a child has the voice that comes from heart and it can be understood irrespective of the language it speaks," he laughed.
"Come sit," called out Shyamala, Moortijee's wife, "I know you Nancy, I mean I have heard of you, will you have coffee?"
"Me, about me, how?"
"Thats not important, what is, is that you now sit in the boat to sail yourself, till now you left people, hmmmm, mothers on the river banks and went back, for first time you yourself stepped in to the boat," she laughed, " here take your coffee."
"Shyamala is a very old spirit, much much older than this temple too Amma," smiled Moortijee to Nancy,
"devotion is the most important, more than what you are and what you have, it is the spirit that re- discoveres freedom."
Nancy sat there the whole afternoon quietly, Megha slept too in the chambers of Shyamala.
Their wants were so few thought Nancy as she cooked a light meal and boiled the milk for Megha.
The peace she felt unnerved her, astounded by the ease of how she handled the few chores of that evening. Her diary waited for her to know all that happened today.
Flower - When it comes out of earth, one knows nothing here is lost.
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Flower - Flowering is a radical transformation. A happening.
Biji was on the floor laughing, splitting up, " it was like 2 am or somewhere there, and for some reasons I was tired and sleepy," Nancy spoke without being interrupted by Biji's laugh.
"And I'm waiting for her to finish her potty, after a while I guess she did, so I picked her legs up and was cleaning her bums, are you listening and what are you laughing so much, get up, I must've pressed the legs against the stomach, the spurt of creamy that came out was very fast. It took me whole of two hours to clean the bed and put the blankets to wash."
"you should've have called me, next time, hope you don't press her stomach the next time, ok, ok, but just call me."
"Look how the angel sleeps now."
"Oh, I forgot, look these are some clothes of Saina, you could use them," Biji placed the bag in the cupboard, " and I've made some kheer for you, warm it when you have it, ok?"
"Biji, you have been such.."
"when are you joining back?" Biji cut Nancy half way, she knew she couldn't handle a thank you from Nancy,
"soon",
"ok."
For next couple of hours Biji spoke about Saina. Her love was now pouring out in tears. Saina was married and would visit Biji once every two years. She was happy, but Biji missed her the most.
"Children just grow up very fast Nancy and especially daughters, I don't know why or how,"
"I hope and pray to Jesus for this child in every breath of mine, I hope I raise her well."
" You will, we will."
Body - How it supports itself on liquids alone.
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Body - When not hungry loves to discuss theories.
Question and answers form a large part of growing up. Nancy indulged in a lot of question answer session with Megha, talking to her sometimes while washing clothes too. The gagas and gigis of Megha assured her she hadn't toppled herself on the bed while she cooked or washed.
A small town is often at mercy of rickshaw transport, Nancy did knew a few of them, but when they weren't available, traveling became a tough ask. Rickshaws here could actually take part in Formula One Racing she thought.
As she stood that day with Megha in her hand and an appointment with a child specialist on her wrists who visited town once a week, she found no rickshaws. She cursed herself for not arranging a rickshaw a day before.
Suddenly a car stopped on the other side, she saw someone wave out to her, she couldn't make out who, but the car then moved again to take a U-Turn to come to her.
It was Lata, her school friend, she had changed, "Nancy?"
"Lata, oh! you, here, when did you come?"
"Come in, sit, where are you going?"
"a child specialist, but you, you carry on wherever you were going,"
"no, sit", she was firm, "I will drop you to the hospital and catch up with you, I would be leaving for France tonight, so come in, lets catch up."
Nancy and Lata had been bench mates in school, shared everything for ten years. Lata then was sent abroad for studies. They did continue writing for five odd years and then stopped, the last letter of Lata informed her of Lata's interest in the ideals of Karl Marx, Lenin etc., and the debates she had in the higher circles. Nancy thought of her being close minded then.
"so, Nancy, how has it been, you look the same, it still seems the summer of 74', and how's your husband? and this, what?
"This is Megha, and you have changed a lot, except your non stop talking,"
Nancy explained about how of and when of Megha, the questions from Lata kept pouring in, and Nancy thought that the traffic had increased or there was something wrong with the driver, he drove the car very slow.
"So are you still in to Marx?"
"Oh, no, not at all, why?"
"Well, your last letter said so,"
"those ideals were discussed over five course meals Nancy, in expensive diners etc., then once I was prisoned in Yogoslavia for three days, because I mentioned something very casually. Those three days of hunger killed all my ideals," and she laughed.
"Giving up something never feels good,"
"Yes, but if there is a huge bonfire lit inside of you, then there is or are no feelings left inside" Lata sighed and continued, "their teachings resulted in violence, while they spoke of peace and equality."
"So now?"
"so now what, married, two great kids, with one expecting, so now a grand kid for me, that's it,"
"and what made you come back here,"
she looked away, "pain, I guess, I could never lie to you, you know that."
Man - It can always see the two ends of all spectrums by default.
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Man - Expression of Existence in search of it's own self.
"I don't know why I called Lata for dinner, but now I want you to come too Biji, I can't handle her on my own."
Biji agreed and hung up.
"auntijee all the potatoes are fine, you need not check," said Ravi, who sold vegetables on the neighborhood, "you can ask all your neighbors about my father, we have provided fresh vegetables and fruits for many years now."
"Have you been to school?" asked Nancy still choosing potatoes irrespective of Ravi's assurances.
"yes, upto seventh grade."
"why did you stop then?"
"I failed thrice."
"So?"
"My father thought he would teach me how to buy and sell vegetables, and I would never fail here."
"Do you want to start again?"
"I don't know, is that it, want some fresh spinach, mangoes too would be coming soon, want me to book some for you?"
"no, no, how much for these, hope they are enough for today's dinner, how much?"
Lata arrived half seven, her face wrenched as if she had already gone through the entire conversation in her mind.
"this is Biji, and Biji Lata and I shared ten most loving years," Biji was arranging the chairs in verandah, she smiled and asked Lata to sit.
"Biji has been my jacket, God bless her, she has been such a great solid friend to me, very instrumental in bringing me in this quiet and peaceful neighbor."
"Don't bother what she says Lata, she drinks innocence of Megha all day long, what will you have to drink?"
"same as what Nancy has, Megha, ha ha,"
"there she sleeps now, might wake up in an hour."
"a coke or plain soda, anything would be fine, thank you."
"I don't want to be married anymore, I thought to myself, I was in two passionate relationships, and both had their quirks which made me uncomfortable. I wanted to simply run away from Paris." Lata's spoon hung in mid air as she looked lost, " I wanted to run and yet could not turn my back, I remember experiencing psychosomatic morning sickness, fever, rashes and all, then as the day progressed it subsided, the thoughts hid in my work, then in nights they resurfaced again."
"Did you see a doctor, you could be carrying then?" broke in Biji.
"No, surprisingly both couldn't get me pregnant, I don't know why, but yes to think of it , they couldn't. I was overwhelmed to be the bread provider to a painter and a struggling actor, both of them stole or I allowed them to steal my precious years, I was existing just as they were."
"You ok, need some more soda?" asked Nancy, "sssh Nancy," Biji whispered, "then?"
"I met Atul, Atul worked in the Indian Embassy, actually he helped me out, I was detained for carrying some pills that damn actor was addicted too, Atul bailed me out, we became friends and then how it goes, I eventually married Atul and settled, I was happy after a very very long time, Nitin, my first baby in my first year of marriage completed me, and life was full of laughter and traveling etc."
God - It never promises Justice or Revenge.
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God - It cannot have roots, it cannot know eternal.
"May be I was a woman caught between a child-me and an adult-me, always, marriage did not break that for me too. Atul was rationalist, pragmatic, me emotional, and Nitin our balance, I say the life was spectacular, the diners, the power play and the new places to visit. But somewhere I was becoming a drifter too, sometimes stubborn, leave me alone became a line that came out of my dreams too. Nitin was shifted to boarding school, I don't how that casual drinking became a regular drinking. So till I sobered boarding school for Nitin was the best, it was tough, real tough. Atul was very supportive, but his travels increased and I wasn't energetic enough to accompany him. A paradise that was once to me that which seemed eternal was a lonely place now. Emptiness, it cannot exist, it consumes you or you consume it."
Megah's cry grounded the three, and they rushed to her room, while Nancy prepared to feed her Biji made some coffee for all. It was nearing 10 pm, " so what time is your flight?" asked Nancy, " I'm not going tonight may be Monday night now, I came for my school leaving certificate and they said or asked me to come on monday now, I'm divorcing Atul next month."
Metaphysics - What is second hand? Love, bliss, emptiness.
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Metaphysics - Men Stray.
"Why don't you stay back here till Monday?"
"Why do men stray, Nancy, I had a bad phase for three years, but with birth of Simi, I was happy again, we bought Nitin back too. Simi and Nitin must have taken away all of time, may be that's when Atul strayed, I have always blamed myself for it, I still am not sure of it, why."
Nancy could not believe on Tuesday that Lata had delayed her flight back on Monday not because of school leaving certificate, that she acquired on Saturday afternoon itself, but because she wanted to open a fixed deposit account in the joint name of hers and Megha in the local bank. Megha now had an fixed deposit maturing after eighteen years of Rupees two lacs, that would be enough to take care of her studies etc, when she would be eighteen.
Nancy sat alone in church that afternoon praying for Lata. Her tears would not stop as the tree that held the strings on which she and Lata used to swing stood still as if they had never let the girls go outside their shade.
The girls were still there laughing, swinging, singing.
She sat there for a long time.
"Where were you," Biji was stroking Megha to sleep,"she has had her fill and has been washed."
"sorry, got carried away in memories, the child in us may be asleep, but it never leaves, when it wakes up, it never lets us sleep."
Memories - Always zeroes itself to tell you about the child in you.
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Memories - Knowledge.
The Sacred Heart School was vibrating in excitement. The results of the state-level interschool arts competition were to be announced.
The seniors sat ahead for they were the most tensed, the competition always threw surprise winners and the tension had gripped the auditorium.
The primary grade sat behind, some with their parents. Nancy sat with the first grader Megha in the second last line of the auditorium.
The first four grades took part in the internal school competition amongst the first four grades.
They all had to wait till the results of the inter-state competition was announced.
The auditorium suddenly went into pin drop silence, the Principle and the arts teacher had taken their place.
The Principle understood that he needed to delay the report, the silence was beautiful.
"The Sacred Heart School my dear students has had an history of excellence, our corridors are now packed with our achievements. There were 257 schools in competition compared to 235 schools last year. Here inside this envelope are the finalist, the runner ups and the winners of the competition. This year our school shall earn a special place in history."
"and Biji she slept the entire afternoon in my lap, the Principle kept talking, reading the prize winning essays and Megha comfortably slept in my laps, ha ha"
"and her painting?"
"she did get two stars for it and tomorrow would be their poetry saying competition in class."
"its too much to include the first three graders in this function, right?"
"we never had all this and yet we produced great artist and scholars, times have changed now, very competitive, ambition driven environment has been pushed to extremes. The other day I was reading Megha the Arjun's story in the Mahabharata , she had so many questions."
"lets take a day trip somewhere, Megha would love it,"
"that's a nice idea, lets do it on Sunday."
"there is a temple some 65 kilometers from here, with a bakula tree, it's very beautiful and in the mornings the ground is covered with fresh flowers fallen from the tree."
"okay, sounds nice."
Culture - It maintains its continuity.
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Culture - Break-Away is possible.
The ring did not let Megha sleep, she did not let Sneha sleep.
"Arun, Arun, Arun, I'm bored Megha, you have told me about his proposal six or five times now, stop it,"
"coffee then?" giggled
"but aren't you going back to UK to continue your job?"
"no, I'm settling down, I will quit, marry Arun, would have kids, and shop and just chill for the rest of my life."
"I don't like Arun."
"I know, I love him. And I'm twenty-six and I have known him from childhood Sneha."
Megha in her third year graduation had now known Arun from seven years now. Their relationship had seen break- ups and patch-ups. Arun was in the families construction business having left college in second year itself.
Dominant, rude and brute is what described him. Megha liked and disliked his being hard on himself and others.
Mr. Kumar, Megha's father was in business of semi-precious stones, traveling most of the time with offices in Germany and Libya. He had no blood relatives and few distant friends in Delhi, they hadn't been in touch for years. He still preferred India for Megha than Germany, Libya was out of question, but it was Libya that bought him a lot of money.
Megha was pampered and all her wishes fulfilled before even asked for. At twenty Megha needed no caretaker in the bungalow and she lived all by herself. A river down the road was where she spent most of the time with Sneha talking about traveling the world like her Papa. She had decided to do her post graduation in UK in finance.
Arun never wanted her to study and this led to many of the fights.
She wasn't talking to him now rather never, he had forced himself on her and she wasn't ready. She had slapped him and now wanted to leave for UK mid- term. Arun too left for some distant site for work.
"no Papa, I want to study in UK, I am dead sure of it, make it possible for me and when are you coming back?"
"soon..." the phone went dead.
Money - Provides incredible support.
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Money - Earn it or marry it.
Kumar could just go back packing anytime. Strongly built with a square face he decided to leave for Brazil instead of leaving back for India. His father had warned him if he did not return back he would severe all relationships with him.
The heat on the streets of Rio was killing and the nights hot. The nights as the day always had people on street participating in something or other. Carnivals he had heard were worse, noisy, loud, bright and colorful. He stopped by the corners absorbing the sound and colors.
Woman walked with clothes clinging to the curves, the heat in their eyes glowed.
"Rose, and you?',
"Kumar, you from India?"
"No Germany, but ancestors yes from India."
"Vacation?",
"yes and a no, with my parents, dad whose on work and my mom attending some circus, me utilising his hard earn."
Her thighs slipped off the stool and the cigarette fell on her linen skirt that barely covered her thighs, she was already drunk. Kumar just managed hold her and got the cigarette before it could make a larger hole.
With the stick between his lips he held her strong and she laughed.
She threw him away and managed to sit back still laughing. The hole in the skirt disgusted her, Kumar's eyes looking at it made her more angry, she took it off and ran towards the water.
"you up, look outside see how beautiful the morning is Rose, coffee? aspirin?" her mom spoke softly, " your dad was furious last night, but I guess you don't remember any of it, and who is this Kumar, where did you meet him and fall in love with?"
"kumar?, ah, aspirin and some coffee and my cigarettes,"
"no cigarettes, you got some guy with you yesterday night called Kumar, you were semi-naked, drunk, and said that you wanted to marry Kumar then and there, we knew you were drunk and so was Kumar, he sleeps in the next room, your dad checked his passport and some other documents in his back pack, he says Kumar has just finished his MBA in US and at present talking to his parents in India."
"I don't know who this Kumar is mom serious, I need my cigarettes, CIGARETTES PLEASE or I will die now."
"how's she?"
"on sleeping pills as regular, but milder ones today, what did you find of the boy?",
"his father has disowned him, he hung before I could ask him anything."
"the cops said he saved Rose, he seems to be ok to me'"
"I think he is up, will speak to him soon."
Rose was up again by afternoon, feeling heavy with pain all over, she walked up to the corner where her purse hung, she took out a cigarette and lit it.
She walked slowly towards the kitchen, as she passed her father's room she saw him in conversation with a man.
She went near the door and could now hear then discussing Lebanon and the political situation there. Boring she thought and was about to leave when she heard her father calling her.
"Rose?, you ok, come here, sit, you know Kumar, he saved you from drowning yesterday,"
Kumar seemed to look away out somewhere in infinity, not even listening what the old man was saying to Rose.
"whatever dad, I'm going for a swim behind, see you later."
did you eat?, your mom left some eggs and toast for you, she would be back soon,"
"damn."
The love, he felt for her last night intensified with the job offer to run a new office in Lebanon fired Kumar. She was there on her back floating on water, her slim body with her beautiful long legs stopped him in his tracks.
"swim?"
"no, I'm good,"
"smoke?"
"your face is never expressionless, something about you that kills me inside'"
"ha ha ha, never heard that line before, so what did you trade with my dad?"
"my freedom for your hand."
Thoughts - Perpetuate on their own.
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Thoughts - The dog often chases it's own tail.
The day trip excited Nancy and it showed on Megha too. After a very long time she thought. She had never attended the picnics with her hospital colleagues, always stayed back.
Seasons bring in happiness she thought and every life in it's life must have four seasons. The play of five elements that she read in one of the spiritual books that she had bought for own self had intrigued her.
The sunshine filled the veranda and there was Biji waiting for her, "Biji and and her sandwiches, ready to sail maam,"
shut up, good morning, just give me five minutes and I will be with you."
The drive was halted by many small breaks, some for photographs and some for Megha.
Finally the smell in the air changed, "that is Bakula in the air Nancy, hmmm."
The temple sat on a brick path and the backyard had this huge landscape with a deep valley, the bakula stood proud in the right hand corner, the flowers had weaved a carpet around it.
"Biji this is beautiful, very refreshing, you must have come here before,"
"no, I wanted to but my husband, forget it.... but now I can do and be what I want."
"Megha, stop, don't run fast"
" Mommmma," her small thin voice sang, "look."
"that's a squirrel my child."
Biji had a sweet voice and she could sing too, Nancy too learned a great deal about Biji that afternoon,
she said something that went on repeating in her mind all the way back to house and through the night, "how could God invent eternal, when I live this day, I live because moments aren't eternal, if my husband wouldn't die, I wouldn't be here free."
House - The walls exist on the outside too.
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House - A concept that is overrated.
'Reward and punishment are tools of economics, dealing with the reward or punishment is the science of economics. So much has already been said, written and studied about it. How the living deals with it is what takes the studies further, is what helps remove contradictions from existing theories.'
The auditorium applauded as Megha paused to sip some water.
'Are the stakes solely responsible for cheating? Individual representatives of state or individuals that form government of a country can cheat the summits and the organization they belong to depending on their own individual stake or collective stakes. History has time and again proved how trade unions have cheated the cause they fought for. This aspect of economics forms the greater part of game on the countries where trades decide the future of the strength of their respective currencies. I would like to end my speech with a thought that was inspired by my late grand father - Cheating has to be understood first hand so as to not to become a skeptic. However paradoxical this may sound, it is not so. ThankYou.'
Nottingham school of economics was discussing the Globalization and had invited the students to speak. Megha's speech unnerved a few teachers there, others thought it as a simple need to present contradictory ideas to show oneself off.
Dr. Morgan was impressed and waived Megha to meet her after the session.
Arun harassed Megha for first six months in UK calling her from India and writing letters. She thanked God for Arun's financial condition not allowing him to fly to Nottingham.
Here she lived in an apartment with three other girls. They would not see each other as all would remain locked in their respective rooms, sometimes bump each other in kitchen and would return back to the room till the one who occupied finished her work in kitchen. One of them was a Chinese and she had her boyfriend in her room all day long. Disgusting she thought and complained about her to their land lady who promised to speak to the Chinese about it.
Harish had a tough time in Nottingham, his financial condition back home made him think even to buy bread which when he converted in rupees seemed very expensive. He would sleep often with a slice of bread and cold water in his stomach. The determination held on his face used to motivate Megha but she use to hesitate to approach him. She knew a smile would end up in affair.
'Mr. Morgan, can I come in?' knocked Megha,
'please do, come in, here sit.'
'thankyou,'
'give me a minute please, we are expecting one more student, would you care for some tea?'
'later, who are we expecting?'
'Harish, you know him, don't you?'
Plum - When it falls the palms must be stretched out.
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Plum - Prunus Mume
Dr. Morgan was fifty-five years old man. His reading glasses were big for his face thought Harish. He sat there in the professor's chamber unsure of the project that he had to complete with Megha.
Six months lost he thought.
"sorry, did you say anything?" Megha asked.
Harish shrugged. "No."
Could she read minds or did he think aloud he thought.
" Anything bothering Harish?" this time Dr. Morgan asked from behind the piles of his books.
"No, just that," he sat gazed, looking at the notes in his hands given by Dr. Morgan.
"yes,"
"just that, hope I generate enthusiasm for this line of work."
"Don't worry, you will, so you and Megha will assist me with the field work and gather as much statistics you both can from manufacturers, distributors and bankers."
Megha left without saying a goodbye, probably she wanted nothing from me thought Harish.
The field work was carried out as messengers would carry out a delivery. The statistics would or would not benefit anyone was a question that often filled Harish's mind.
"Lunch?" asked Megha in one of their field trips.
"No, not hungry."
"You could sit with me, till I have mine."
"I have to finish my reports."
"Will help you later, lets have lunch." She knew he was hungry and after some prodding and provoking he did order a sandwich for himself.
"Tell me about you, where do you come from etc, etc, or whatever you like."
"Nothing much, I'm the only son, my father is a credit manager in a bank who wants to see me heading a branch of a foreign bank one day."
"hmmmmm, you sound like my father before he met my mother."
"what did you say, I could not follow you."
"nothing, just said I come from a luxurious background and my father had a vague idea of where I am."
Later while walking back home he broke the ice for first time and asked,
"are you concerned with what happens with you?"
"No, but right now I want to do this, hence I'm doing this." She went right close to his face and wished him goodnight.
"Belief and questioning go together," said Megha to Dr. Morgan, " right Harish? Till you ask you aren't certain, once you are, you have no questions."
"I may stop asking out of fear too," replied Harish.
"yes, but a true economist only observes, the observation is the conclusion."
"Brilliant Megha." Dr. Morgan smiled.
Restlessness - It has a source.
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Restlessness - Energies that bubble like Lava.
"I haven't been able to make friends Megha and its been like eight months now, I know this is not your first time alone in the world but for me, who never stepped out of his small town, it is." Harish turned and was about to get up when Megha pulled him back on to her, "you have me."
"Yes and this too was because you..." her fingers stopped his breath, then she kissed the remaining air out of his lungs.
Megha had a brilliant mind, she even excelled in the quiz contests. Her visual memories amazed a lot of people. She had many friends and her alertness was always discussed by the teaching staff.
Harish and she never exchanged any talk in the campus. Harish had managed a part time job from the field visits he had made during the project work of Dr. Morgan.
His restlessness was a great high for Megha, she could feel it in his muscles and his breaths, almost like an addict she had to go to him for her fix. For him his liberty for expressing his desires and being himself without any inhibitions the high.
Memories operates almost differently for all thought Megha, amazed at her father and Arun and how her's operated. Mr. Kumar spoke only when Megha called, mostly for money transfer. Arun's complete stop of letters and calls to her got to her now. She did feel guilty for being angry and agitated when Arun wanted to get close to her and here she was with the releases she felt through Harish. Every act with Harish bought Arun closer to her.
The letter to Sneha was more about this understanding, this need for clarity about her memory than about Arun. Sneha had no clue about Megha and Harish and in her innocence she got in touch with Arun asking him about his wellbeing and letting him know about Megha's concern, obviously she exaggerated. A casual question about Arun's whereabouts was mishandled by Sneha.
She knew she had made a wrong move.
Ignorance - Born from feeling Bad.
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Ignorance - One can live of it by choice.
Lebanon had always fired Rose's father Mr. Patel's imagination since 58'. Beirut was always talked about in his circles. His present offices could not offer him the luxury to start something there. The 60's was very vibrant for Beirut. He made a lot of tours there with young Rose, who fell in love with French there. Mr. Patel was in love with the heaven called Paris of the middle-east.
It was by 65' by which Mr. Patel got a shot at his fixation to own an outlet there. As Kumar left for his honey moon to the Swiss, he left for Lebanon.
Kumar was late again, his flight to Lebanon was at 12 noon, he would meet Mr. Patel there. Rose wanted to stay back as their two month long honey moon had exhausted her nd she had to get back to her friends, so it was Kumar flying alone to his first ever job, his first ever office to be run by him alone.
The overwhelming humidity of August made Kumar remember Porbunder and the first night of his in Beirut was spent in flashes of his journey from a small sleepy town to a fashionable, fast moving and a very friendly city.
He picked up Arabic and french in no time and his letters to Rose were now in french asking her to join him soon. He could work without taking a break Mr. Patel had claimed proudly and this had disappointed Rose a lot, she was now in no mood to go. Rose's mother did know of their violent fights during the honey moon as they stayed in a friend's chalet there. She never mentioned it to Mr. Patel as he was busy investing money for Kumar. There was a night she had spent in a hospital with a minor head injury, the cause mentioned was a slip on stairs, but she knew it wasn't so. She was more than happy to have Rose with her. The heat of August in Beirut was a good excuse for Mr.Patel and Kumar. She knew behind Rose's 'all being well' exterior loomed a madness.
Masochist - They have to be cultivated.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Masochist - The body in which the head is detached.
Kumar was always demanding from the body, his body. He drove it through fast cars, alcohol, drugs and sex.
Mr. Patel knew of his escapes but kept quiet for Kumar's running the office was more than perfect. He was also fine with Rose not disturbing him.
"Is he developing his body or destroying it?" Mr. Patel one night after a couple of drinks thought aloud to his wife.
"ha ha, he swims in your soul dear, why does it bother you?, anyways Rose is leaving for Beirut next week."
The beginning of seventies was changing the streets of Beirut. Skepticism ruled the man on the street. Kumar too felt the heat as sales dipped. He use to come home early to only find Rose slashed, drunk crazy.
The telegram announced Mr. Patel's death, a massive heart attack he suffered in the bathroom while he showered, the office and shop were closed for the first time in four years.
"He has no head Mom, only a body that demanded sex all the time, if I was drunk he used to leave me alone, but then offlate he used to rape me."
" You walk out on him Rose?"
No, I see my body as a thing too now mom, addicted to his dangerous moves."
Mrs.Patel was very sick now and Rose pushed her frailty through her talks. She wished to be left alone and thought if Rose was driving herself to madness who was to stop her.
The extreme entertainment finally got the universe to plant a story in her womb. She hid it from Kumar till she knew she had developed cancer.
Kumar took both the news with the closure of his first office because of violence on the streets of Lebanon with more liquor. He pushed himself harder, the fire burned like hell in him, swimming in the success of business.
The fishes in Rose swam dead.
Megha was born to a very sick and spiritual Rose. She was sad and yet connected to Megha in the Gulf of Mexico.
Megha never understood the bald head of Rose, she was asking questions to God in her diary.
Healers - A million prayers brings one to you too.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Healers - A way to be human again.
Nancy was happy to see her swing. Little Megha would sit on the swing and twirl it round and round till it was all tightened up to rotate back to it's original state.
Her stance in the kitchen when hungry was like a stalk with little just about to bloom flowers.
Sometimes she would walk in a drunken state, never at a place, from here to there like some butterfly.
"You lose a great deal if you don't observe children in this age, it's an education for us." Biji spoke while cooking curry.
"I can't take of my eyes from her. my father would have done the same, may be," relaxed Nancy in the soft rays of setting sun.
"You had to know or hear my mother speak of me with sand, me in sand and sand in me, she said this for all children, how and what sands do to us in that age, pity we have no beaches here."
"Could we watch a movie, some movie about sea and beaches or oceans, or this summer we could go somewhere?" Nancy got up and raced to the kitchen.
"Yes, yes." laughed Biji.
"The other day as I came out of bath, she was standing by the door, waiting for me to finish and step out, her face full of questions, pale and she might have had shrunk too, she held my hand and took me to the veranda and showed me a pigeon that was lying still, I touched to find it being dead and she ask me where is the bird, I was surprised by her question, she might have been occupied with what was happening, she might have seen it in movement and then it going still, so she wanted to know what happened, and I was wondering how could I explain her."
"yes how could one explain it being alive or dead to this age."
"Sometimes all these books how about teaching children are all lies, I threw all the books out," laughed Nancy.
"How did you manage?"
"managed it, but all my answers made her ask , then momma where did it go? her eyes never left my eyes."
Opposites - Anything we know of it is speculation.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Opposites - Everybody understands in bits.
"They are promoting me, seems like work trouble, I guess more of paper work and management issues," Nancy seated herself besides a sleeping Megha, she took of her glasses and continued, "I have to sort this out."
She did think of quitting the job but was afraid to act. Her concern for Megha and giving her a hundred percent attention was the cause behind the fear.
Megha had now some friends in the neighborhood and she spent the evenings with them. Biji would always accompany her and never leave her out of her sight.
" Hug Biji and she won't be hurt anymore." Nancy smiled to a pale Megha.
"No hugs, no kisses, she knows very well she can't hide behind you."
"then bring me my own dog, I want it," Megha suddenly threw a fit.
"this all your fault Nancy, look she is turning in to a brat now; and she was fine actually, the minute she saw you, she knew she had a cover." Biji winked at Nancy and kept the voice cold and stern.
" listen to BijiMa Megha, you cannot play with street dogs, they can harm you."
"I know tili from when she was a small pup momma, BijiMa saw it only today," the voice was now flowing in tears, "ok, ok, we will see about it tomorrow, now come here, let moma get fresh, she has just come back. Come here, are you hungry?, want some noodles," Megha came out and followed her BijiMa.
"Can I have a small pup of my own BijiMa?"
Much later in the evening as Nancy sat drinking coffee she pondered and smiled, "Remember Biji her potty training took so much time, she refused to let go off the diapers."
"yes, yes but I guess the diapers are an addiction of sorts, they provide safety to the falls, the child senses it can fall when ever and it does not hurt; and the child feels dry all the time, they cost a lot too, in our times we had almost fifty small cloths hanging all over the place, drying." laughed Biji, "I know, the diaper packs wouldn't even last a week," said Nancy while stroking the neck of Megha who was deep in some fantasy dream. She smiled in her sleep.
Pets - At a certain age they are always around.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pets - Unrestrained Moments of Joy.
"It's a fawn colored Labrador retriever puppy, female, I checked with the owners, they seem to be good people." Biji had called up Nancy during lunch hours.
"How much?"
"Eight thousand rupees Nancy."
"Expensive?",
"yes, but one look in her eyes and you don't won't to look anywhere,"
"you won't show it to Megha before buying it Biji?"
"You want me to, actually it isn't necessary."
"May be you should."
"Okay, I guess the owner has had a litter of eight puppies."
Megha named her new friend Leesa. Leesa was in her seventh week and had black button eyes that wouldn't leave Megha's eyes. The head use to twist and Megha would know Leesa wants to be carried.
Leesa would run all over the place, tumble at will and keep staring Megha. She was proud and the friends that spent the evening with her and Leesa as their center of attention would thrill Megha. Every evening she had a story for Nancy, Leesa did this, Leesa did that, her oratory resembled Biji a lot.
"Momma look BijiMa and I made a box house for Leesa, she can now sleep near my bed."
The corrugated box house lasted only for one night, the next day Nancy hunted for a carpenter to get one simple box made for Leesa.
Every morning there was a new tantrum of taking Leesa to school too. Every evening Nancy thought she had gone back in to past when she bought Megha home. Medicines, what food to give, what not to give filled all the spare hours.
"Biji, all your fault," said Nancy one night completely exhausted."
"Mine, look who's telling me this." and she burst out laughing,
"she was trying to make her sit and shake her bums, Oh Nancy! you had to see it to believe it how hilarious it was."
Therapy - Try A Puppy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Therapy - The indeterminate perception is always attributive by default.
Rose one morning happened to read Megha's diary titled 'Letters to God'.
She was touched by her innocence. She thought may be some people lose everything, the loss takes away the imagination to see the future. The loss is not because of some speculation in market or some trust issues or because of arrogance, not because of losing a limb or a lover. The loss has to happen in the corridors of minds, that individual's mind.
Megha was starving she thought. 'I have no right to take her away from Kumar,' she wrote in her letter to her aunt, 'I see here people staying in the premises of the churches, amongst them some barely live human existence, wire fences marks the limitation of their world. Then there is this human spirit that asserts itself which I realize reading Megha's diary. She sometimes does play with those children along the barb wires, laughing and singing. In me I see a new leash of surviving and being resilient, for Megha at least.'
The letter was never posted.
Megha was very humble, the teachers and Nuns called her human touch very striking. She was open and vulnerable.
She was later to understand the definitions of good and bad fortunes and their disadvantages and advantages.
She trusted the guardian after the death of Rose to return to her father in Germany.
She kept her self open in the fire that burnt her soul, the sun rise she saw from the window of the plane she flew would bring her more troubles she knew. She was eight and she knew somehow the value of hope.
Work - It is what that has to be DONE.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Work - Each cognition depends on past perception.
Kumar had lost sense of chronological time. His traveling made no sense of day and night. He often found himself in an isolated tunnel losing himself for hours together.
The last he remembered of Rose was a pale face in pain asking for a medical diagnosis, he had left her lying in the hospital as he had a flight to catch.
Today he waited with bare walls for his daughter. He had no clue what and how he would welcome the child.
He hired a care taker and saw to it that he renovated a room and filled it with toys.
"Of course I forgive you, Mumma asked me to do so and the Sunday- Church class I attended always taught me forgiveness," Megha replied softly to Kumar's question of forgiving him.
"but your photo that Mumma showed me looked different from you," she concluded to sit without talking to Kumar for the rest of the drive back home from airport to house.
Megha couldn't sleep for most of the nights, she laid awake having lucid visions, which seemed to be more real than reality.
She first made friends with a cat, she called her cheenu. Cheenu purred and meowed and filled Megha's days with laughter. Cheenu used to watch Megha from breakfast to dinner, when she bathed, till she tucked herself in bed. Sometimes Cheenu disappeared for hours together and Megha as the time passed used to become sure of her not returning back. She would come back to the sobbing Megha, who then for next couple of days tie her and sleep.
Kumar had now changed three care- takers, he could not handle her passive-aggressive behavior. Always saying yes to all her demands, he again took Megha as work unable to crank up any emotions inside of him. The only thing that comforted him was Megha looked and walked like him. Her being quiet for hours together would not hurt him, but now she had to join a regular school. He decided to send her to India, and put her in a boarding school.
Megha was happy to be out of that place but she pleaded her dad to let cheenu come with her.
The next morning she got up to find Cheenu missing again but this time she never returned.
Notes - They have to contain a life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes - Whatever is there is your own personal travels.
The boarding school seemed strange to Mehga, nobody spoke to her. The ceilings were so high, they seemed too dark in corners. She had a confidence in her walk and wanted to be the best in class. She asked Kumar to buy a small house and stay there instead of the school in her letter. Kumar agreed but from the next term and that if she fared well in this term. She kept her promise and so did Kumar.
Sneha walked in to where Rose had left Megha. Sneha became her only friend. Sneha's parents visited the school often and when they took Sneha out for lunch, Megha accompanied them too. Sneha's mother liked Megha's long black hair, she use to sit with her and before leaving them back at hostel give them both a nice head oil massage.
She finally thought with Sneha around nothing bad will ever happen to her and from now on everything would be fine, her dad had already promised a small house near the school after the term and then she and Sneha would stay together there.
Kumar was surprised with the stack of letters on his deck when ever he came back home from Megha, some of them were blank pages, some had a lot to say. He knew Megha could read herself from inside and the best way to avoid her would be to keep reminding her that he had lot of work.
Mornings - Omnipresent.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mornings - Melodies from skies.
"The driver won't take Leesa and the watchman in school too, so Megha you can't take her," Nancy's voice now going cold.
Megha's voice still had a song in her requests, the mornings were filled as usual with Megha asking Leesa to accompany her and Nancy refusing her till Megha actually boarded the bus. The culprit thought Nancy in a very funny way was Leesa too, the way she looked at her when her voice went cold on Megha.
The next hour passed in smiles and tears from the inner most depth of her being.
Megha was growing, changing, like a pure source, she was music to ears. She was developing amazing capacities for music.
"I know it Nancy, I see her, may be my dreams, may be those will be hers tomorrow, but the girl can sing." Biji sounded in a distant voice. Nancy was busy with the sweater, it was almost complete and before November Megha would have a fawn colored sweater same as Leesa's fur. Biji was half asleep and knew Nancy had already dreamt for Megha.
Nancy's imagination sometimes questioned God's gambling attributes and other times she used to remain in tears thanking God for Megha. The days and nights were all one, they were simply glorious.
The town planners were thinking of building a lake, the news paper head lines spoke about it and how then everybody could enjoy a full moon night by the lake. " Good for us, finally something constructive from our government Nancy," Biji sighed and gave the papers to Nancy, "Biji maa what is lake?" asked Megha.
"You, my child, you are a lake." replied Nancy.
"A big, very big puddle of water," laughed Biji looking at a very confused Megha, "Don't listen to Momma."
"Can we take Leesa there then?" Leesa too looked at Biji.
"yes, yes, yes," laughed Biji hugging Megha.
Past - It is all over your body.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PAST - Where are you from.
Dr. Morgan often alone in his chambers was lost in his thoughts about Megha. He was an alcoholic who was now sober from past ten years, but off late his unconscious mind dreamt of liquor.
The cause for his wants of liquor primarily being thoughts and writings of Megha. They bewildered him. Her past he thought had to be known, for in it were the cause for her views and her clumsy brilliance about an economical utopia.
Although he rejected her idea in class by a wave of a hand, he longed to discuss them alone with her. Her initial reports claimed about how she wanted to participate in times to come about international trades and exploit her journalistic abilities to uncover trades that affected crimes and political turmoil in countries.
As a writer he knew she had to know all aspects of morality and ethics and all their echoes that were now surviving to maintain a conflict free trades for world.
His own alienation came about in his younger years. His insights that he kept to himself was the reason for his growing up as an introvert.
One of Megha's passages that he read and re read and the reason being he thought was not to interpret it.
He feared his interpretations more than Megha's unspecified ideas, unspecified ideas he thought were again according to him alone.
Megha defined economics by stating that objects bought the human life in a cyclic and a mechanical cause and effect chain. A chain that chained the human beings now.
The finest passage according to Morgan read:
' If no right or wrong is where mind functions, a country whose governance pushes weapon production and specialization in arms trade would obviously do little to rationalize racial discrimination. Value to value, what would remain would always be a zero sum game. Do odds lead a productive life? Do odds lead a productive civilization? Why are we now thinking and worrying about fundamentalism, when we know about its causes. The cause is what now decides the stakes and stakes decides the morality of trades."
Megha he thought needed guidance. He decided to meet her father.
Gambler - Borders on transcendental causes.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Pages turned to one
way street
Satisfied a learned
Found a knowledge
Contemplated ignorance
And saw all objects in their
home
Only you
a fundamental simple living
You were are and would always
be the master key
Always ready to go
A potent life
About to explode
So much to do
And as much to risk
For laughter to come
For laughter to come.
way street
Satisfied a learned
Found a knowledge
Contemplated ignorance
And saw all objects in their
home
Only you
a fundamental simple living
You were are and would always
be the master key
Always ready to go
A potent life
About to explode
So much to do
And as much to risk
For laughter to come
For laughter to come.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Something goes on
Some strings vibrating
Thoughts come up
And "ON" again naturally
Come on all we need
is very small amount of
energy
For what we do all through
our day
Whatever it is.
Zero your search
To Nothing could be wrong
Ever at all with me
As I could never be the other
with the witnessing, if that was left
alone.
Something goes on
Some strings vibrating
Yes, all alone again
naturally.
Some strings vibrating
Thoughts come up
And "ON" again naturally
Come on all we need
is very small amount of
energy
For what we do all through
our day
Whatever it is.
Zero your search
To Nothing could be wrong
Ever at all with me
As I could never be the other
with the witnessing, if that was left
alone.
Something goes on
Some strings vibrating
Yes, all alone again
naturally.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Introspection
Reflection is never liked
a trait that is so subtle
that it seems I am
ignorant by choice
I am never empty of it
I continue seeing it
even if it is in compassion
it is the same,
It is a reflection
A self that I see in you
A conditioned state that I see in me
Trouble must be brewing there
If light be put on that
the sadhana can be seen
clearly
of how so many concepts have
been fabricated by the mind
Just seeing can never happen
reflection is always tagged along
with it
yet if this is somehow seen
an unburdening happens
yet and yet and yet
introspection are reflections
and hence nothing happens
a trait that is so subtle
that it seems I am
ignorant by choice
I am never empty of it
I continue seeing it
even if it is in compassion
it is the same,
It is a reflection
A self that I see in you
A conditioned state that I see in me
Trouble must be brewing there
If light be put on that
the sadhana can be seen
clearly
of how so many concepts have
been fabricated by the mind
Just seeing can never happen
reflection is always tagged along
with it
yet if this is somehow seen
an unburdening happens
yet and yet and yet
introspection are reflections
and hence nothing happens
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Meditation
I am
are they just words that flow
out of a body or
Before they flow
there has to be a thought,
a thought that always existed in thoughts
Hence what flows out
is always
this what I say
I am that
is different from what is
before the thoughts of I am
There has to be beginning of knowing
Where the pleasant memories
or otherwise with day to day living
that is observed.
There in that sorrow
a feeling of ending is born
That I am that flows out is
in the framework of time
and hence becoming a product of the object
from existence,
Existence by itself requires no change,
but concepts born through
the I am that change all the time
All I want to know is
why is the I am
which is always free of
all problems
cannot live without one?
are they just words that flow
out of a body or
Before they flow
there has to be a thought,
a thought that always existed in thoughts
Hence what flows out
is always
this what I say
I am that
is different from what is
before the thoughts of I am
There has to be beginning of knowing
Where the pleasant memories
or otherwise with day to day living
that is observed.
There in that sorrow
a feeling of ending is born
That I am that flows out is
in the framework of time
and hence becoming a product of the object
from existence,
Existence by itself requires no change,
but concepts born through
the I am that change all the time
All I want to know is
why is the I am
which is always free of
all problems
cannot live without one?
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Expanding My Fixations
Went about my business
looking for a thought
as usual came back with thoughts
and that they belong to me
Realized I could never get to
know a thought
And found myself with loads of
thoughts and a thinker me
My imaginations bonded
an imaginary entity
and hence I found myself going
in and out of convictions
expanding my
fixations
of being somebody and not me
with divisions of me and mine.
looking for a thought
as usual came back with thoughts
and that they belong to me
Realized I could never get to
know a thought
And found myself with loads of
thoughts and a thinker me
My imaginations bonded
an imaginary entity
and hence I found myself going
in and out of convictions
expanding my
fixations
of being somebody and not me
with divisions of me and mine.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Stories within stories
like when
sugar on my tongue
tasted good and
after I experienced the sweetness,
I wanted more and more
In extremes
More and more insights
changed impressions and
inspirations came about
and poems were composed
a rationality of disharmony
that opened a window
when the sugar was experienced
like when
sugar on my tongue
tasted good and
after I experienced the sweetness,
I wanted more and more
In extremes
More and more insights
changed impressions and
inspirations came about
and poems were composed
a rationality of disharmony
that opened a window
when the sugar was experienced
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What I find from my own experience is
the truth for me now and
that then
could be different from yesterday
I have to depend on past to solve
any problems that I face now
Past then always stay and has a
purpose to come to
conclusions now
The bottom line is
that investigations cannot happen
without the past in play.
the truth for me now and
that then
could be different from yesterday
I have to depend on past to solve
any problems that I face now
Past then always stay and has a
purpose to come to
conclusions now
The bottom line is
that investigations cannot happen
without the past in play.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The dimensions have to occur in me
Through
Perceptions though
I see a history in me
I see a definition in me
That is my conditioning
That is me
All that I will ever see
I see that me
that is a dimension too
I see all play
of all dimensions
Conscious of it
without a name
Looking at a name
the family, the inheritance, the culture,
in an objective sense
of magnificence
A relationship that I have had
born through memories.
Through
Perceptions though
I see a history in me
I see a definition in me
That is my conditioning
That is me
All that I will ever see
I see that me
that is a dimension too
I see all play
of all dimensions
Conscious of it
without a name
Looking at a name
the family, the inheritance, the culture,
in an objective sense
of magnificence
A relationship that I have had
born through memories.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A Permanent Presence
Everytime I write, a new me is born. That brings in a thud.
That thud is a byproduct of learning. All dimensions are such byproducts.
Head banging thud.
Why?
My presence was always permanent.
What remains or goes is associations. Hence Sprouting is root concept.
That sprouting is happening, I am watching that, that is the happening.
Doesn't this happening establish the consciousness as an axiom? This question needs no answer or talking.
The individual happens only after. Identification is the part of that.
Find me a Raj inside of Raj or outside of it? This is not intuitive, it is reducible from what is happening.
First nothing then plenty and only then infinite. Apply.
That thud is a byproduct of learning. All dimensions are such byproducts.
Head banging thud.
Why?
My presence was always permanent.
What remains or goes is associations. Hence Sprouting is root concept.
That sprouting is happening, I am watching that, that is the happening.
Doesn't this happening establish the consciousness as an axiom? This question needs no answer or talking.
The individual happens only after. Identification is the part of that.
Find me a Raj inside of Raj or outside of it? This is not intuitive, it is reducible from what is happening.
First nothing then plenty and only then infinite. Apply.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Some Day
Before the question
I was born
yes, before the answers.
A field now in dynamics
I observing all the degrees
The powers that how one
should live,
"I have an ace up my
sleeve"
is what all teachers call.
A road twists to it's
fullness
waits for me to leave me home
that road
not bothering of me and
my attitude
which shouts I don't trust me,
I don't trust life.
Should I let go of
this idea of stop and test
this pretension of knowing
that there is a power waiting
to be unleashed,
That it is simple to lie to me,
willingly I do that
I drive me not to relax
As I trust there is
no free lunch.
After the question,
I was dead,
yes, before the answer came.
I was born
yes, before the answers.
A field now in dynamics
I observing all the degrees
The powers that how one
should live,
"I have an ace up my
sleeve"
is what all teachers call.
A road twists to it's
fullness
waits for me to leave me home
that road
not bothering of me and
my attitude
which shouts I don't trust me,
I don't trust life.
Should I let go of
this idea of stop and test
this pretension of knowing
that there is a power waiting
to be unleashed,
That it is simple to lie to me,
willingly I do that
I drive me not to relax
As I trust there is
no free lunch.
After the question,
I was dead,
yes, before the answer came.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
A Quick Look At My Life
A time came
when I felt no
one understood me
I was called a young fella
There were advices that came in fast
and mentors walked my earth
freely
I was inspired to make
me difficult
to them
Never careful, no discipline
I was super-imposing
a convenient predetermined
answer
"you did it too, or how would you know"
Then a time came where I
became a seeker and asked
this bought responsibility
and a seriousness
and answers that kept changing
with life that kept teaching me
I fell
fell bad
then got up, limped
and then walked
Externally our lives
are the extensions of what
we do and want to do
I related to the world with
the action I created
Sometimes in contradiction
other times in a dichotomy
Then at times I was
Sure of me and then at other
pondering over my mistakes
If you think I was
singing my song
think again
for you lived exactly the same
to rest in wisdom
when I felt no
one understood me
I was called a young fella
There were advices that came in fast
and mentors walked my earth
freely
I was inspired to make
me difficult
to them
Never careful, no discipline
I was super-imposing
a convenient predetermined
answer
"you did it too, or how would you know"
Then a time came where I
became a seeker and asked
this bought responsibility
and a seriousness
and answers that kept changing
with life that kept teaching me
I fell
fell bad
then got up, limped
and then walked
Externally our lives
are the extensions of what
we do and want to do
I related to the world with
the action I created
Sometimes in contradiction
other times in a dichotomy
Then at times I was
Sure of me and then at other
pondering over my mistakes
If you think I was
singing my song
think again
for you lived exactly the same
to rest in wisdom
Phew! what a world
In IPods and launches
Of IPads
Twitter and blogs
Training a lifestyle
In web of 3.0
A status on my fb
Updating me and what
I have to do
Can't even depend on my
memory
I have flash drives
And hard drives
Working on technology
Or
It working on a ghost
called me
Can you now plug the
TV on
I need to take my mind on
wander
I'm piling up on me
This work
For which I created
my world of giga & mega
In IPods and launches
Of IPads
Twitter and blogs
Training a lifestyle
In web of 3.0
A status on my fb
Updating me and what
I have to do
Can't even depend on my
memory
I have flash drives
And hard drives
Working on technology
Or
It working on a ghost
called me
Can you now plug the
TV on
I need to take my mind on
wander
I'm piling up on me
This work
For which I created
my world of giga & mega
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The High Note
anger brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
movements are on automatic
choices in this automation
happen only when I
burn my rice
like a corridor that never
stops climbing
I spread my life where ever I stop
to mend my staircase in that
twisted corridor
a want, a desire brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
active is thinking
that promises recognition
and imparts itself in flesh
to help us survive in this twilight
of sad voices
a street light here
a broken glass there
that is why I stop
to unify that lamp for me to walk
further
for you to walk so that you can see
the texture of your existence
a canvass in my mind
brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
How I refused to move till
I could move where I could
move clean
I closed this end
I opened some other eyes
I made myself some coffee
That was more truth to me
than the promise of the pill
of my ancients
a sorrow that lifts brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
movements are on automatic
choices in this automation
happen only when I
burn my rice
like a corridor that never
stops climbing
I spread my life where ever I stop
to mend my staircase in that
twisted corridor
a want, a desire brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
active is thinking
that promises recognition
and imparts itself in flesh
to help us survive in this twilight
of sad voices
a street light here
a broken glass there
that is why I stop
to unify that lamp for me to walk
further
for you to walk so that you can see
the texture of your existence
a canvass in my mind
brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
How I refused to move till
I could move where I could
move clean
I closed this end
I opened some other eyes
I made myself some coffee
That was more truth to me
than the promise of the pill
of my ancients
a sorrow that lifts brings in a stop
a stop that is the high note
of consciousness
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Within the dream
that I call when I am not awake
a unique me and
the all that fuzzy world
in it's three dimensional
is all spiced up
to entertain a
uncommon world
Going further deeper
then some more
actions and reactions
making more unique me
in more uncommon surroundings
they keep coming
and beliefs or
question of beliefs within the
dreams are never felt
even it is one is not known
the waking state becomes insignificant
somehow I know a feeling
I call it the waking up
identifying this by that
one on a journey
and the other on the ground
that I call when I am not awake
a unique me and
the all that fuzzy world
in it's three dimensional
is all spiced up
to entertain a
uncommon world
Going further deeper
then some more
actions and reactions
making more unique me
in more uncommon surroundings
they keep coming
and beliefs or
question of beliefs within the
dreams are never felt
even it is one is not known
the waking state becomes insignificant
somehow I know a feeling
I call it the waking up
identifying this by that
one on a journey
and the other on the ground
Monday, January 17, 2011
Complicated movements in mind
as if eyes knew not what it
recorded
so so many stories running each other
down
years on years the faculties
of my being took down notes
one by one
what I called my consciousness
which rolled everywhere
springs and new clothes
smelled so nice
they feel nice too now so
tell me my mother
why do i still ask about death or
what is there to learn of death
The teachers punished me
so did my habit not to learn
in memory of my teacher
who never gave up on me
I would write an ode
this I promise
as if eyes knew not what it
recorded
so so many stories running each other
down
years on years the faculties
of my being took down notes
one by one
what I called my consciousness
which rolled everywhere
springs and new clothes
smelled so nice
they feel nice too now so
tell me my mother
why do i still ask about death or
what is there to learn of death
The teachers punished me
so did my habit not to learn
in memory of my teacher
who never gave up on me
I would write an ode
this I promise
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The dances lasted all night
and that night lasted a life time
Knives in heart
I was taught to salute that knife
Living on a prayer
I was told my soldier
would fight
come hail or storm
He had to protect our dances
as we danced to the preachers song of peace
and harmony
The earth now cut in to
brilliant pieces
with sharp knives they called
with pride their wrinkled flags
screaming and falling
to live
we all died
and that night lasted a life time
Knives in heart
I was taught to salute that knife
Living on a prayer
I was told my soldier
would fight
come hail or storm
He had to protect our dances
as we danced to the preachers song of peace
and harmony
The earth now cut in to
brilliant pieces
with sharp knives they called
with pride their wrinkled flags
screaming and falling
to live
we all died
Can I feel a father I spoke
and Can I a son said he
the father and son
at conflicts
as centuries swung by
A tired step
and that look from him
A deep voice talking of
his pit falls and victories
telling me I may walk my walk
but I have a finger to help said he
I knew I was free
in my muteness I expressed
let my mind rise or fall
for I wanted to be all by me
and hence I was blind to the finger
you rose
I know you thought exactly as I spoke
before you crossed this tunnel of age
hence can I feel a father
who was once a son that he felt
and Can I a son said he
the father and son
at conflicts
as centuries swung by
A tired step
and that look from him
A deep voice talking of
his pit falls and victories
telling me I may walk my walk
but I have a finger to help said he
I knew I was free
in my muteness I expressed
let my mind rise or fall
for I wanted to be all by me
and hence I was blind to the finger
you rose
I know you thought exactly as I spoke
before you crossed this tunnel of age
hence can I feel a father
who was once a son that he felt
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