Straight from the Heart !

VENUS...

2007-03-16T14:22:00.000+05:30

Dedicated to: ..shuvro; who never read my posts!! :(

"I wonder whether he sat down on his knees.."
"Oh yes! He did", Jiah chuckled, "He was always like that. You wouldn't believe it, ..there were so many people at the Railway Station that day; ..and they all looked at us! It was so embarrasing!"
"What happenned next?"
"Oh nothing! I told him to be a proper fellow instead and to get me a ticket, my train was getting late." She paused. "And then I told him to cross the main roads properly while he would get back home, ..he was in a daze, ..you'll never believe it, all his chivalry vanished", Jiah chuckled again, "He nodded like a child!"

"And did you never feel bad about turning him down?"

Jiah blew a ring of smoke. "I never turned him down. I asked him to get back home properly. I never say a 'no'. It hurts people." She paused again. "And now I wonder, whether he at all knew that I smoked", she smiled, "But I remember having cried that night."

"Why?"
"You and your silly questions", she said, almost in a scolding tone, "Imagine what he would have gone through!"
"You didn't love him Jiah, did you?"
"Not at all! But how could that stop me from being a human and feeling for another? ..I never saw him again. Hope he is all right."

That was Jiah.
We had met two years ago. She had mailed me once regarding a few paragraphs of one of my short stories that had got published in a daily. And since then, she have gradually grown into a very close friend of me and my wife.
She was always there to help you out of an emotional trouble, to offer you a support whenever you needed it. ..To listen to your problems.

But she was terribly messy with her personal life. She lived alone. But almost always was attending to a thousand peoples' problems. She knew when the milkman's son would be needing money to buy his school books, she knew which girl had had a break up and how the situation could be handled, she even knew when the neighbours' cat was expecting.

My wife would laugh at the fact whenever I told her that Jiah needed to improve her lifestyle.
"Why don't you men leave us as we are?", she would laugh and remark, "You'll never understand why we are the persons we are!"
She'ld always validate Jiah's point.

True.
Who were men to understand women?
Even trying to solve Goldbach's conjecture was easier..

Maybe, women like Jiah had no anchor in their lives, ..they floated on! It was as if they preffered remaining unhooked by a commitment.

"Why don't you marry?", I'ld ask her.
"Marry whom? You?", she'ld casually remark with a wink.
"Well, ..there are so many men waiting out there for you!"
"They need a wife", she would reply, "Not me!"

"Don't you feel lonely?", I would ask.
"Oh, you see, I've so many things to do", she would jumble up her words.
And then she would suddenly grow silent and would cry...

During her solitary hours, she would sit down and dream. Her eyes would be carrying a vague, distant expression, ..signifying as if they looked at a place far from the cries of this ailing world.
She painted beautifully.
And I'd also seen her write short lyrical poems of one or two lines, in her personal diary, ..which she never showed to anybody.

When I had once asked her whether she had ever fallen in love, she looked at me and smiled.
"Well, I would have told a lie straightaway, ..but as this is you who's asking me, I'ld preffer to remain silent."

And that was Jiah.

She even slept with men.
People who knew this, called her a prostitute. But she always shrugged her shoulders. It was as if, somehow, she knew what she was doing and why!

You just had to go and ask her. You just had to tell her that you needed her for a night; ..that you needed a companion to cry to and to share your pains with.
First she would hit you back. Next she would avoid. Then she would try her best to make you understand and see reason. And finally, when you've got her convinced, she had no way out.

"I don't think you do this for personal pleasure?", I would ask.
"Oh yes. Absolutely. How can you stand seeing a person in pain? And that too because of yourself?
I am happy. And I am happy about the fact that I make others happy.
There's no rulebook to follow when you live your life, is there any?", she would sarcastically remark.

And thus she moulded herself to minimize a thousand peoples' pains; ..she gave away her lunch to a beggar, ..she carried grandma's basket to her doorstep, ..she managed to refuse a hundred marriage proposals with a sweet smile and without saying a 'no', ..she gave away her body to a hundred alcoholic men...

And thus, she was nobody.
A non-existent entity, ..lacking any defined shape; the spontaneous flow of Life, lacking any perticular direction.

But she was also the ocean to which all the rivers in this world emptied themselves; ..blue-green waters. That sucked you in and drowned you if you dared to fathom its depth.

I had slept with her, too, once!
I was heavily drunk. And was perticularly tense owing to a personal problem. My wife was out of station. And I went to her apartment to speak out my pains, ..I needed somebody who would simply listen to me.
And I never knew when I had broken down crying.
And she took me in.
I cried. At her lap.
She nursed me, all night. Without even asking what had happenned. As if, at her depths, she knew exactly what was disturbing me. And make no mistake, I saw tears in her eyes too. She was just pained to see a human being crying so helplessly!
And I never knew when I'd got physical!

The next morning, when I apologised heavily, ..she smiled and cut down my embarrasement by saying that it was all a dream that I had dreamt.

That evening, she visited my house to dine with us. She chatted the whole evening with my wife in the kitchen. And completely ignored me, due to some odd reason.
"See!", my wife would jokingly remark, when I would try and talk to Jiah, -- and she would grow irritated at that, -- "How you men disturbed us when we would care to spend time together!"
"Absolutely!", Jiah would chuckle, "All of them are so disturbing", ..without even caring to look at me!

And when I would grow frustrated at her floaty lifestyle, as she was one of my closest pals for whom I cared so much, she would cuttingly reply, "Stop penetrating at my private affairs. That hurts." And her eyes would suddenly moisten up, and she would grow all quiet.

And then suddenly, after a brief pause, she would laugh and say something like, "Actually, to tell you the truth, ..I am quite callous and brittle; ..and I am confused and indecisive too; ..in most of the cases I don't know what to do! And think about those good men whom I have brutally refused all my life...", she would gurgle up laughing..
...But never did I fail to see a shimmering teardrop, at a corner of her eye, when she ever did laugh out like that!

And thus, the list of her negatives went endless...
She knew each of them.

And what would strike me was whether this simple and apparently brittle girl knew her positives!

..that she was a perfect friend, a fantastic listener, a great nurse; ..a girl who was so blessed with such deep understanding of the human nature and its pitfalls...
..somebody whom everyone around her loved; ..a woman whom some of the most dissatisfied men in this world hated!

..the Giver,
..of Satisfaction and Happiness to a thousand Seekers,

..that she was Venus,
..the Eternal Symbol of Love, Beauty and Wisdom,

..of Tolerance and compassion;

..of The Feminine;

..that she was the eternal symbol of The Mystery.

Memories last forever

2007-03-15T20:03:00.000+05:30

In this journey of life ...you meet with so many people...some stay with you forever ...some you leave behind...some disappears suddenly......but all these people make you truly what you are.But as they say memories last forever......

When I was a kid, I had for company all the books I could possibly read then...my dreams...my superheroes....And oneday I met with this skinny girl .....she had boy's cut hair with specs ..and looked just like me...scared...She was our neighbour sort of...her maternal Grandma lived besides our apartment.Though she was 1year junior to me ,we stuck up this unusual friendship....we both of the same kind chose to visit each other's Neverland together.

I still remember they had this huge mango tree in their garden and we used to climb up that tree to show heroism to others.Everyday we used to play together.....and eventually our mothers had to literally drag us back to home....

The best thing we liked in our make a believe plays was that of Dark room- it was this abbreviated version of Haunted houses.And this was somewhere we would be best at.All we used to do act as if it was this stormy night and we two,along with her baby brother went to take shelter in a house,which would eventually turn up into a haunted house....We would be sleeping and then there would be disturbances...Ghosts would chase us...one of us (usually the baby brother would be the bali ka bakhra) would come under the spell of spirits and turn one of them...and we bravehearts would finally save him and us.This paly was so realistic that one night while playing this we really thought that there was someone in the room!!

We would be culturally inclined too and we had arranged successfully twice a Rabindrajayanti programme in our respective home.We did two plays of "Hassya koutuk"of Rabi Thakur "Chatrer pariksha " and the other's name I've forgotten but it was about stealing of eggs.we even made two little boys dance to rabindrasangeet(it wasn't Rabindra nrittya by any chance)

So we had this beautiful childhood together but somehow after I passed out from school I lost touch with her.All I knew about her that she was studying in Shikshayatan college.But a few days back,a local friend of mine told me that my first friend's life has been destroyed by a motor accident in Bangalore...she went there for reviving her life's aspirations...but it was shattered by a man made machine......she's no more now..................all that remains is the ugliness of her death...the opain ,the tears and some memories..................I wish like we played in the Darkroom game,I knew some magic to shatter the spell that has separated her from our world......

Her name was Dorothy Bhattacharya ,my first ever friend ,forever and eternity........................

Coffee talk

2007-03-15T19:57:00.000+05:30

A group of alumni,highly established in their careers,got together to visit their old University Professor.

The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life........
Offering his guests coffee,the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups-porcelain,plastic,glass,crystal,some plain looking,some expensive,some exquisite -telling them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffe in their hand ,the professor said:"If you noticed ,all the nice looking ,expensive cups were taken up ,leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.It is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves,that is the source of your problems and stress.What all you really wanted was the coffeee,not the cup,but you consciously went for the best cupsand were eying each other's cups.

Now if life is coffeeand the jobs,money and position in society are the cups.They are just tools to hold life ,but the quality of life doesn't change.Sometimes,by concentrating only on the cup ,we fail to enjoy the coffee in it.So don't let the cups drive you.....enjoy the coffee instead....."

Removing Myself

2007-03-15T10:48:00.000+05:30

I'm very sorry to declare that, I'm removing myself from SFTH...as I don't wanna be a part of this blog anymore.... I'm really running short of time for blogging these days... & I don't wanna be a passive member.....but I won't stop giving comments...

Sorry to Vivek & Subhro....

2007-02-26T21:33:00.000+05:30

Finally the blog has started working again ,
finally !

I am My Happiness

2007-02-26T10:55:00.000+05:30

Unfortunately, one of the biggest relationship mistakes also happens to be one of the most tempting things to do if you are in a relationship: Making your partner responsible for your happiness and blaming him or her when you are not!

It is a little scary to listen to many of the most popular songs on the radio. So often, the message is: You make me happy; I’d be lost without you; you are my world, or other, similar types of messages which take away all the power and responsibility to make yourself happy and put it on someone else. Wow! If you think about it, that’s an enormous amount of pressure to put on another person. It’s like saying, I can’t always be happy myself, but if you're going to be with me, you’d better make me happy!

On the surface, this concept seems rather obvious, but how many of us really do take full responsibility for our own happiness? How often do we say to ourselves, ‘Why can’t my wife be different?’ or ‘It makes me so mad when my husband acts that way’, or ‘I’m stressed because my husband works too many hours’. When you examine these (and thousands of other) very common statements and thoughts, it becomes clear that they suggest, however subtly, that somehow, someone other than you is responsible for your happiness. The thinking is like this: If only he (or she) were different, I’d be happy. They have to change. Not me, no way. It’s them! We’ve found that if you believe that the answer to your unhappiness lies in someone else’s hand, you’re in for trouble. Even if they manage to accommodate you with occasional changes, you’ll come to rely on these changes for your continued happiness. Eventually, you’ll be let down and will be discouraged. You’ll be left with that helpless and dependent ‘It’s his/her fault’ feeling.

Source: The Times of India
Date: Sunday, 25th March

Parole

2007-01-05T01:34:00.000+05:30

Every time I insinuate your head from my shoulder,
I quiver.
Parts of me juddered to a halt.
And almost immediately, I resent the insinuation.
In your lambency, I coerce my eyes to drown themselves
In the tempests of people
Far from your eyes,
Which I will not see for a few moments from now.
I filthily institutionalize my love,
That namelessly arose nascent
And slid secretly into a void in me.

It is as if
I am growing a plant of love on you.
You would take care of it, yourself;
The blood, bones and light, you’d give these all.
And yet, I believe,
As if my entirety was growing on you,
I tend it in ways that I believe will help it grow.
And when people come by,
I drape it with an opaque cloth.
I’d be scared;
What will they make of the light?

Far away,
When you and I can love without a care,
I will even marry you.
I will smother your hair with love.
Afternoons and evenings will never malinger.
There will be things to do.
I will never need to lie.
You’d never need to pucker your face.
I will even kiss you,
Even think of making love to you.
And on the trail of fluid fast,
In an iridescent, unbearably light tear,
We will paint auroras and cycloramas,
And daub our paper hearts with flimsy crayons.

Let’s go there, you and I…

Silent Nights ..

2006-12-25T10:37:00.000+05:30

One of my Favorite Christmas Carols .
Enjoy ..
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas !

ILLUSION???

2006-12-18T13:54:00.000+05:30

Once
On a evening
Indolence hold my hand
And took me
To a dark land….
It asked me to believe;
And I saw
Flowers in a dozen…
In my mind
All of a sudden…

And
I started my journey…
Leaving my root…
Behind…
So free
From mind…
But not blind…
With trust
In my heart…
With chances
Of getting hurt…

I……
Saw a spin on path
Lights gone…
Lighter…
Closed my eyes…
No roses were there
Only another twist
On the path…
I……
Left my desires
Only dreams came
With me…
On desert…
On lonely path…
In search of light……

The search did seem
Meaningless…
Suddenly…
With a fragrance
I found a pathway
With a new beam of ray…

You….
Were standing there
With stretched arms
Full of warmth…
As if you crave
All my pain
On you like rain…

That moment…
Mesmerized my thought…
When I felt no hurt…
And found my head
Resting…
On your shoulder…
So happy
Felt like dying
I couldn’t…
But crying…

City of Angels !

2006-12-14T11:22:00.000+05:30

Host is a ghost

2006-12-12T20:02:00.000+05:30

Ok guys, I'm not telling a Horror story...but this thing that I'm going to tell you is ultimately lead ro a Horror story and I know that very well.

Well we the 3rd year Psychology hons student of Gokhale college are going to do a seminar on the"Methods of Abnormal Psychology" and my dear friends wanted me to have a taste of the "bamboo" and they have chosen me as the host for the whole thing.Now my friends those of you who know me very well knows that , I've got a very bad habit of laughing all the time,as I'm in any "Great Indian laughter Challenge" ,with the most awkward bodylanguage one can have!And of all the people me being chosen as the Host is nothing but a sign that the show is either going to turn into a circus or a Laughing club!

I requested my friends so very much but they are such a "dhabba"in the name of friendship that they are unwilling!So there's not much option for the Host,but to turn into a Ghost on that day!Aye!If I find anyone just smiling at me,do you know what will happen?I would burst into a bout of laughter madness and everything would be worse than the messes made by Uncle Podger!

Oh I do hope that Mamata di saves me on that day and call for another Bandh or else .............My last rite is all that will be left!Oh do pray for me!

Salaam e Ishq ~!

2006-12-07T18:56:00.000+05:30

Lovely song with lovely pictures !
Salaam e Ishq o Meri jaan !

Surrogate Mother

2006-12-06T01:17:00.000+05:30

Come dusk,

I slither out, bloody and new,

From ruptured umbilical cords,

Thrust out of vaginal walls.

By chance,

My infantile senses

Are intact and enthused.

Naked, I am fed

With shapes, smells, sounds, swarms and sensations

From the juvenile night’s bosom.

And every sense grows

Into a child’s sense.

Prowling into the night,

My meandering feet and childish fingers

Feel the bodies

Of fellow creatures of the night;

Other moonlit children.

I search each eye,

Each body

For a similar mark.

Flaccid, I stumbled into loneliness.

Shards of pain appear in my pubis

Curled, blackened and clustered.

Char my face, in pencil mats

Muffle my voice, low as night’s humdrums.

My masculine senses

Heave windows open.

Naked bodies sway

To the song of the night,

Emanating new shapes, new smells,

New sounds, new swarms and new sensations,

A strange new dusk spawns

Inside a warm bowl.

The possibilities in a strange new dusk

Smiled on my naked body,

And upon my genitals.

Ungarbed, I quivered in the cold.

I need a bosom

And a shield of hair.

Sexually excited, I masturbate

Into a stranger’s bowl.

I masturbate.

As I unfold myself,

I shrink.

Every span of skin

Forbears growth.

Every breath coalesces.

Every tress of hair

Sprawls a tiny sheath.

I coagulate into a new, cold sperm.

Quivering in the cold,

I swim up

To a stranger’s egg

Waiting to divest myself off my senses.

By midnight,

I ripple into a stranger’s womb.

In the day,

I float in saps,

Inchoate and unmade.

My body sprawls itself

Into an unrestricted expanse

And I grow without a center.

My fetal heart feeds

On strangers’ day dreams.

I collect the waves of myself

And prime them into an infant

With new skin.

Bringshu ihare koy...

2006-12-04T20:11:00.000+05:30

Chobi dekhe bojha jaye je pete pete eto soytaani??!!

I drew this...it was hung in the school exhibition

2006-12-03T12:03:00.000+05:30

2006-12-03T11:57:00.000+05:30

Walking on the dark Side of moon

2006-12-01T10:12:00.000+05:30

"Breathe ..
Breathe in the air"

The air is thin in my moon
Its hard to breathe..

A long day of lost paradise
I live amongst you

I die in the absence of moon.
So , I keep walking on the dark side of moon..

There is more to me than you see
A eclipse of thoughts echoes through dusk

Anonymous glow beneath my eyes
A surprise gone wrong

May be , there was more to it
Than you and me walking ..

There was more to it ..
The noon may not speak anymore

But the midnight will surely do its part
Midnight moon shines on you ..

"Shine on you crazy Diamonds
Now there's a look in your eyes , like black holes in the sky"

~BACK TO MOON~

2006-11-28T19:24:00.000+05:30

Clouds
In the sky…
Floating
Mind…
A river
Flowing…
Or,
Flying high!!!

Unworthy
Oh you!
Says brain,

See life…
Stop
Taking pain…

Heart laughs,
“I……
Have seen pain…
Still
I laugh…
I get wet…
In rain…”

Brain laughs,
“You…
Are here
To live…
Not to shed
Bloody tear…”

Clouds
Black…
Hides sun…
It says,
“Don’t cry…
I will
Come back…”

Life
Mortal…
Possessions
Material…
What we feel
So unreal…
It is real

It’s night…
When
We dream…
We desire…
We…
Close eyes
Pain dies???

We search
Eldorado…
A journey
Never ending…
Destination
Seems pseudo…

World
A stage…
Clowns
Are we…
So free
But
Inside a cage

Distorted…
Colorless…
It’s death?
Oh you
Don’t die…
Close
Your eyes…
Fly…
There is
A sky…

Afternoon Sun…
On it’s high…
Look at it
And
Close your eye
Inside you…
See the moon
Even
In afternoon…

Duality - A reality!!!

2006-11-28T11:25:00.000+05:30

It's easy to forget failure but not hurt
and between happiness and pain, does life oscillate

i's shot when i was at my sincere best
when i wanted the freedom back i myself lost

i was wrong that i did expect
as i wanted to rediscover my space, at the most

naive was i, i have to admit
then the warmth i had felt was an illusion but

Thank god!!it's not bout hate but hurt
and the prayers and secret promises guarded a lot

else everything the blazing fire would have burnt
reducing me into ashes and everything that's a part

Luckily what does not change is past,a cold dry fact
but the river full of iife,it could not obstruct

Now that everything i have blurted out
i ve to complete it else ll be called an opportunist

never had i ever thought
hurt can also lead to fulfilment

for what lovely is a heart without any hurt
and what beautiful is a moon without the blackspot

if this little hurt can make my dead words live
and make me more compassionate and live

i would undergo many like this
and more eagerly thinking of this as bliss

but it's easy to forget failure but not hurt
and between happiness and pain, does life oscillate

Wine

2006-11-25T17:01:00.000+05:30

Pain can be incestuous; the familiarity it breeds and spouses excruciates instances of impotence. As I write this, I try and lurk in words surreally linked with penned pills. I lie prostrate on wet grass and muddy pools of water, anaesthetized; my stomach on the ground and my right temple playing drudge to a grimy piece of stone. Loud imaginings flit up the sky, like birds which wake up from sleep and gallivant to instinct, expelling dreams inadvertently, before taking to the other branches. And I pen them up; these light, floating thoughts. Heavy, deeper ones agglomerate into a murky sludge – perhaps the heaving in my stomach and the rush in my temples. The feeling dawdles. The sieved residue, black and grey, are out of the rational, and in some irrational way, they silhouette my silence and eloquently border my solitude.

Love or no love, my wedding with words is falling apart. And I fear that I have no courage to envisage such bereavement. But it is not as I wish. Eloquence takes its toll and pain drones on stinging me; it pains to salvage the cost I must pay. I’m merely afraid, afraid that my eloquence will dissolve. Perhaps I am not even maimed. I have never been beaten up. And as I write, I constantly reassure myself that there is nothing to be proved, no judgement to be respected.

I took to a long drive. Photography. Music. Arts. Women. Coffee. Cynicism. Emptiness. Blood. The fear still swivels around the winding annals of my mind. Nothing, nothing in 19 years has swiveled away that fear which grips my mind. I used to measure men with eloquence, and now as I indulge in this orgy of repetition of cumbersome spoonfuls of language, I wonder if I can stop this unlearning, this gradual evaporation, and take to a pseudo intellectual status. I wanted life anew, knowledge slit open and rendered impotent, in a rage for orgasmic freshness. And now I can no longer bear to stay adrift from my haven of words. With seared skin, empty eyes, a loveless beard and bone dry hair, I crave for a revitalizer.

How could I not be in love, now that I have fallen in love with the need to be in love? How could I unlearn words and measure familiar terrains with coffee heaps which I swore never to use?

A I read this piece to myself, I savour less and less of the emanating pain, less of the depth and the eloquence in those vials of chided volatility. I even smile at some lines. None of the exquisiteness and beauty seems to matter. Words aren’t life.

Through curtained windows, I see the child I love engrossed in play. There are days I wake up to see his face. And now, as he wipes sweat away, I laugh a happy laugh. A happy laugh of abandon. I move down to the playground, to watch him from proximity. He waves at me and I smile a smile of love. I pretend to be entangled in a book, a book that I said I love and wouldn’t mind rereading, throwing smiles, parts of which will be visible well outside the book’s geometrical life. Antithetically, I hope to ensnare; I came enchanted. Oh, how I laugh! I haven’t yet learned to love in the open. Watch the child who silhouettes my own childhood in a way not very far from how it should be done. I seem to be certain about many things when I’m around with the child. I seem to know the one way in which my childhood could be silhouetted. The one child I could ever love. A woman who claims to love me calls and I don’t attend the call. I can not slit open this moment of trance. She calls up over and over again. I switch off my mobile phone. I seem to be certain about love. Certain that she doesn’t love me, for I could certainly not love her. I must prepare an excuse to give her, for I lust her. And I don’t wish to go hunting. She fell into my cave, charmed by the little eloquence that I could conjure, and from the very beginning, I have been honest. At least in patches which matter.

The child comes to me, hardly exhausted, and asks me about my day. I do not realize if I’m saying the correct things. The child lacerates all signs of realism from in me. I hum while we walk away to our homes. There were times we’ve had brilliant conversations in the times before, but today I chose to walk silently. Even behind him. He doesn’t demur. His mind wanders too, perhaps. But now and then, he turns behind and I am enamored. I watch him as I would stay sentry to the night’s passing. Gaze up and think my own thoughts. The child connects me to fundamentally introverted parts of me which I would lose otherwise. He never asks me why I have befriended him. Why him of all people. Why this child. He never asks. He asks of trivialities which I remember as if they were facts of significance. But I have asked myself why I do love him. His rationalism, his indulgence, his bohemian self, his brilliance, his way with people, his eloquence at things which I could never quite be eloquent about, his reflection of what I must, perhaps, be, and most of all the spectacle of him talking to people, loving them with love in his eyes. I could never love people. I could never love good things and bad things alike, with whatever certainty I attach to each definition.

Or perhaps it is just that I am more eloquent than he is, generally, or with the passing of those few years that would take him to my own horizons. “Child” I call him. Perhaps it is just those few years in vacuum that I love. Those few years, which will now elapse, along with my own years. Side by side. I will live two lives.

I take him to the nearby restaurant and he doesn’t demur. I sit far away from him, asking him to make the orders, sending him of to the waiter and everything else that would create a crevice of distance. A proximal distance, from which I can watch him and live him. Once I took him to a beach and I scribbled on the sands, quite legibly, to the lady I love and the one who claims that she could never love me, one and the same, “Wish you were here”. She loves Floyd. I had him take a photo of it so I could email her that. He probably suppressed surprise and asked me for who the photo was written. I told him what I thought, without channeling my thoughts to the maze of roads my mind is. Mindlessly, I said what I thought. Perhaps it was what I felt about the woman.

Now, in solitude, I realize that this eloquence that I employ fades by the day; my marriage is falling apart and rarely do I indulge in epiphanies of this sort any longer. I would no longer be able to tell the child what I think. A kind of senility will befall me and I would stay stuck for words. Lost as I have lost so many of my material possessions. Lost from myself. But, perhaps, more importantly, I must break the child while I can. Let him discover that he will, too, lose his eloquence and his grip. Let the fear in me plague the child’s mind, hover around him and grip him, like it does in me. I must force him to unlearn, stop loving and turn placid grey. Sometimes I think this is all I do. Break people. Break children. Because they may break in a more traumatic manner, hurt physically, rendered disable and in conditions which I myself fear; fear more than anything else. Perhaps this is love. Its side effects are a cyst and resistance. End results are fleeting moments of much pulchritude or perhaps, even orgasm. Or may be my priorities are skewed; side effects end results and end results side effects. My impotent self can do nothing to slow down my divorce. I stay sentry to my own heart’s sinking, waiting to pick up the pieces and then do as impulse will tell me to.

2006-11-25T14:04:00.000+05:30

Assistant of Abu Salim

2006-11-25T13:51:00.000+05:30

Apna sapna is NOT Money Money!!!

2006-11-25T09:51:00.000+05:30

Smile

The lost threads of time asked me to wait
Amidst all the lights there was darkness around
The orchestra played the divine tune
I sat in a corner

Morning sickness had struck me
The surge of insomnia was catching up
Mystifying arena spoke nothing
Don't ask me any questions

A wry smile was stitched across my face
The devastating reality was something I hadn't expected
Give me some more time
I shall keep my promise
A promise to love you
A promise to take you in my journey

In a green forest I saw my dreams realize
The road went through them
Crush my soul , kill my soul

I lost control the moment of truth
In a numb moment I realized
I cried , I wanted to kill
But time heals every wound

The fantasy of dreams
Stoned mortals try to stand still
Trying to Remain high on hope
.... and high on dope !

My Soul is Tearing Apart....

2006-11-13T12:31:00.000+05:30

When I was going through the dark phase
You assumed I was fine
Cause I never showed you my tears
And how much my heart was aching inside

We knew things were not right
But we couldn’t help it solve
Now you hold me responsible for everything
Even though deep inside you know
But if u don’t want to acknowledge it
I cant say further… no more…

(My Soul cant Take It Anymore....There is a calmness on my face but deep within...my soul is tearing apart....)

The End

2006-11-09T12:03:00.000+05:30

There was a time
when i took interest
in loving-
in giving my everything
for that cause;
to live life at the edge of the roof...
on one hand
you can scream :
"woohoo! i'm at the top of the world!"
and on the other,
when you look down
from the sheer height,
you tremble, you fear
of falling down...
of being broken into a thousand pieces.

but now,
the world fleets by
like a movie on the silver-screen
and i
remain untouched by the subtle emotions
that used to make me
shiver, twitch, or
dance to its tunes.

sentiments make a man,
they say.
but i say...
strength makes a man
ambition makes a man
character makes a man.
it's not that i'm that man...
but i know the way
out of the miseries
is to see The End.

One who sees The End
makes his decisions more justfully.
he does not
waste his time
in the lanes that has no future
no Hope, no outcome.
he sees the Light
and goes for it...
the Light of Immortality
of Permanence.

But it is also true...
that
it is not important What one becomes in Life
but it is important How he becomes it...
some people may differ with me,
but i Believe
that no matter what you become at the end of the Day
if you do not go through the Hard Way,
you never realise its true value,
the true essence remains obscured
from your eyes.
as a result,
with the riches of a hundred kings,
you still remain unhappy, unsatisfied, unfulfilled.

in this huge world
there are very few people
who'd place their hands on their hearts
and say "I'm Happy."
everyone has a life
and also has a freedom to live it
in their own chosen way.
but when the things go wrong...
they only have their Ego to console them
of their decisions.
but in the core of their heart
they know
they're nothing but Losers.

Living life for the moment
maybe a key mantra of today's people
and most surprisingly,
they're right in the mantra
but wrong in its execution!
here is the explanation :

live life for the moment
but such
that you always know
that it goes on...
there's no use clinging to a belonging
because
nothing belongs to you,
they never did...
they just change hands,
sometimes the trump card lies in your hands
sometimes to another;
Life is not the trump card
Life is the table of the play
Life is the characters of the drama
Life is the stage where it happens.

take life as it comes to you,
without expectations, without attachments
without desires, without passions!

yes, without passions!
if you reflect properly,
you will see
that it is these passions
that drive us
from one corner to the other
like a rat in a closed room
screaming their lungs out
and sweating like a pig...
the passions elude us into the false hopes
that the earth would be our dreamland!
but the truth is
all lies in the word 'Dream'...
it is you who will have to Dream
it is you who will have to change
it is you who will attain peace
nothing will change for you
no matter how hard you try
and if you still go on
you'll end up in the lanes of despair,
of utter misery.

Rise.
The solution is in your hands.
Kill the passions!

You may argue
that it is those passions
that make us human.
i say:
i give a damn shit to being a human
if it means utter misery and pain
instead it's better to be inhumane
if it brings peace
if it brings stability
if it brings permanence.

my dear friends
you stand in a juncture of two roads...
one leads through a village-
a simple poor 'ambition-less' yet peaceful life
and the other through a metropolitan city-
a gorgeous flamboynt complex and uncertain life...
now that I've let you know The End
it is time,
you choose your destiny.

I wish you luck!

.

2006-11-06T16:18:00.000+05:30

roj rater protarona jobab debo aaj
Tor jonne modhye ratrir modopaan
Hajar Hasir ektai uttor
Tor choker udashintoi hariye jao

Chander chadni te amar bhutni
Preyoshi tar birjota
Amar shunyo akashe ekta tara
Gopon kothar amod toke ghire

Aaj bhuter rajje dui nayikar sopno
Amar bedonai shongi tui
Abar beshe aasha gondher roktokhorron

Amar ar tor mostiker odhine
Kotha r bhanje ekta heyali
Nirobotar uttor kothai ?
Ami toh chai ni aar kichu .

~BLACK~

2006-10-31T23:07:00.000+05:30

Evening sky
Depressed sun
Going down
Emerged
Into dark…

Sky is not black
It’s crimson
Colour of blood
Or, just sky?
Unsolved mystery
I cry……

Life
Blossoms at night
When
There is no light
Only
Passion is bright…

Night is rainbow
Of heaven
Or, hell?
Of passion
Or, pain?

Dark lanes
On earth…
On mind…
Earth suffocates
So am I…
Are you blind?

Your touch
Warm breath
You…
Oh hell!!!
You said,
“It’s heaven”!!!

“You are lost”
Says my brain

Creation
Or, destruction?
Pain
Or, passion?
Life
Goes on……

Night ends
Streetlamps went out
So as my shout…

I stop
My soul gets lost
Once again…
To my brain
Or, to pain?

It’s a new day
With nothing new
With another evening…
With another night…
Another fight…
Between my soul
And my mind…

I cry……

I cry
For my night…
My soul says
“Oh, save me”
I……….
Close my eyes
“Forgive me”

Photographs !

2006-10-25T21:34:00.000+05:30

From Diwali along ...

Went for a small break in Varanasi during the holidays
Here are some pictures taken by me.
Feel Free to comment.

A couple of lines :

"Alokito Sopne er majhe amar du muto shobbota
Shomay er duronto parabar e boshe abar bhabi
Jibon amar pashe jai boye
Abar hobe dekha ... dustrino parabar er sesh e "

Hidden Roses

2006-10-20T20:47:00.002+05:30

[Confessions: I am sorry. This is terribly long. And it's not worth the effort to be read. So please overlook it! Thank you.]

"Yes? So, what is it?", I swept my eyes over the items in the menucard. We had a table at a corner. The restaurat saw less people that day.
The room was dimly lit. It was the mellow yellow light that had spinned its own magical web across the air.
"I don't want to waste time", Jia's voice was firm, as if with a forced overtone, "I am saying this to you because you are his friend. You are going to tell him this."
"What?", I went anxious.
"That I am already married."

I was wonderstruck. We spent the next half hour silently eating that evening. She avoided an eye-contact.

When we had finished and she took out her purse to pay the bill, I said softly "Can I ask you something?"
She was quiet.
"Why did you do this?"
"I don't know", she hurried through her words, as if deliberately trying to project each of them on an emotionless plane, "You may think whatever you wish to. I loved to spend time with him. My husband was out of town. Now he'll be back soon. If he knows, I'll be in deep trouble. Can you ask Ronir not to disclose anything?", she looked away, "That'll be quite a favour".

She looked to get up and leave. The waiter had left with the tip.
I looked at her eyes. They were as expressionless and still as frozen water. Shamelessly outspoken.

"Jia", I almost made her stop. She was walking away. "Did you love him?"
"No", she said firmly, "Ask him to forget me. Tell him that I am sorry. Our relationship never had a future."

She left.

I walked my way home that night. Ronir was my childhood buddy. And more, he was a child at his heart. I went numb to imagine how would he react to all this.
I remebered the moments when he first showed to me Jia's photograph, three months back, trying so naively to express exactly how much he loved her! He was so overjoyed to have finally found someone so special in his life. He told me stories. We had so many glasses of beer over them.

Ronir had never asked about Jia's past. Or, who she was once; ..what she did. He knew that she lived with her parents at an apartment near Juhu and had just completed her Masters'. That was enough for him. He believed her!

I told Ronir everything. He cried his heart out. I had never seen him cry so much before. His voice chocked. He wanted to phone her once. He had some questions. But, he feared. He was in awe that his tender feelings could well be dehydrated under the merciless fire of the girl's outspoken betrayal. He was such a soft guy!

"What are you going to do now?", I asked.
"Don't know, maybe, ..leave this place". He went silent for a while. His eyes were still liquid. "Every lane of this city is going to remind me of her, ..of the moments that we had spend together. We gelled so well! We went to the movies. We went to restaurants. I had planned a large gift for her. Next month had her birthday. But it's useless now".

I held his shoulder. He had gone so weak inside. "I think, you should look to forget her", I said.
"I hope I do that someday", he said, "But you know what, I would never be able to manage that I feel. She came and touched such stupid corners of my heart that I once kept so very only for myself! They have gone lonely now. Tell me Akaash, ..if she had to go away someday, why did she at all come?"
"Don't feel pain, brother", I insisted, "The whore cheated you. She was someone else' wife already. She never was yours. Why waste your emotions over something that never was, Ronir?"

Ronir left that day. He told me that he would meet me after a few weeks. He was leaving town. He said that he needed time to think the matter over.

And it was then when I suddenly got to contact Shenaz over an online chat at somenight.

Shenaz hapenned to know Jia.

"How's Ronir?", she asked.
"Your friend didn't do something very correct", I typed to her, "Ronir would take months to heal his wound. Girls are girls. I hate them."
"I don't get you", she answered, "What do you mean?"

I told her everything.
And then to my astonishment, she answered "My God! This is not true. The story is something else! Jia did something very naughty, then."
"She never told me that she said all that to you and Ronir", Shenaz typed, "Though I knew that she would say something. Do you know, she wets her pillow even today, every night, thinking of him and the hurt she has caused him. What she only wants now is, if Ronir could remember her, at least for the rest of his life. Though she believes mightily that it's never going to happen. She could do nothing about it. But I never knew that she degraded her image in your eyes! She doesn't deserve that. Here, read this."

She forwarded me an e-mail.
Jia hapenned to write it to Shenaz.

It said,
"You know how much we love each other. But the situation is getting worse day by day over the last one month. Baba wants me to marry somebody out of his own choice. You know how conservative my family is! I cajoled. I cried. I threatened to commit a suicide. But Baba has stayed fixed. My mom said nothing. Lucky me, that I had suspected all this before. I never told Ronir my own details. He never asked.
You know, I so very much want him to start his life afresh. He is such a good boy! He should be forgetting me. But he loves me so much, I don't know how am I going to make him do that.
I know Akaash. He's his friend. I think I should let him know everything. But I fear that if I tell him the truth, Ronir would be crushed. More so, because he'll feel my pain. He may also rush in and create a scene. I had always kept his existence a secret to my family. He's so impulsive, you know!
I want him to rejuvinate, Shenaz. To a new life. With new dreams. He should look ahead. I don't want him to hold on to a lost past. I want to see that boyish smile of his again. It was so very filled with an innocence! I fear that I have taken it away from him, forever."

I went dead silent after I completed reading this. Jia hapenned to know Ronir better than what I knew him to be! Perhaps, that was meant to happen in love.
Shenaz asked for my thoughts on the issue. She 'buzz'ed me five times on Yahoo Messenger, that night.
I logged out instead.

I met Ronir six months later. He contacted me and asked me to come to a party at his house. He was back at his uniquely jovial and simple mannerisms.
He beamed a smile at me and said, "Hey buddy, had to tell you something. I had met this pretty thing one month back", he showed to me another photograph. "I had told her everything. She asked me to forget the bitch. You know, she said exactly what you said that afternoon -- why fret over something that never was ? These things happen in life! Not that everybody you meet in your life comes out to be all good!"
He waited eagerly for my reaction then.

I saw love in him, that evening. As if it had returned by some magical ways.
But, I thought I also saw some unerasable stains of pain, insult and regret that he so desparately tried to hide behind his cloak of superficial satisfaction; -- a secret buried too carefully, perhaps only to be identified and understood by another man!

Ronir threw Jia away. But, I thought, he failed to throw away her love. It remained in him and it was all the same. Only that this time it taught Ronir how to hate!
"Just think what happens, if the right-one comes in my life now", he reasoned, "After I had wrongly loved the wrong-one so very much?"

I looked at his eyes. I never found Jia there at her own respectable self! My eyes desparately hankered for a minimum vestige of the girl. As if, whether she found even a small space in the radiance of the man she so deeply loved.

But I never saw the roses.

Still, ..I felt that somehow they were there!
Perhaps, they preffered to stay behind the curtains. Perhaps, they were quite justified in doing so. Perhaps, selfish mortal eyes didn't deserve to see their beauty!

Jia lived on. In Ronir's hate. Ronir lived on in Jia's love.
Both of them remained! The sour memories of those sweet moments remained.

Their roses remained, hence! ...the roses that were uniquely theirs!

"Yes", I nodded, "You are right! What's this gal's name anyway?", I said.

The Welcome Itch !

2006-10-18T21:47:00.000+05:30

Check this out !!

We humans love to err, actually…
Doing a mistake,
We try to fog it up with excuses-
Excuses, that doesn’t really make any sense,
But suffice to create a fog
Where we can can hide our shameful face!

We say,
“I’ve learnt a great lesson…”
Alas! On the second next
We do it again… and suffer
From the same writhing agony.

Agony, yes… Agony, Pain & Sorrow
Seem to be our best friends!
Because,
No matter how much we suffer,
Sticking to the pain
Seems to have grown a habit…
We fall for it
Again, and again and again.

There is a subtle and sadistic joy
Even in this pain…
After a while of suffering,
It makes us forget what it is actually
And becomes an integral part of our lives.
Most amusingly,
We even find peace, a feeling of completeness
Burning in this agony!

The more it itches,
The more we scratch…
And, the more wounded
The poor bloody soul becomes;
Ironically, the more pleased we feel!
Again, it keeps up growing manifold,
Nourished by our encouragement…
Here goes the Cycle…
Until we find-
The Life is Spent,
Scratching the Itch…

A night- A Ghost- &, A Girl

2006-10-16T19:18:00.000+05:30

Blue night
Dreams come…
Dreams gone…
A dark room,
And
A small red light…

A girl…
Sleeping……
Unconscious…
Dreaming deeply…
Smiling…
For
Someone special…

Innocence…
On her face,
Her dream
Makes her smile,
She doesn’t know
It’s fragile…

She was crying
Before sleeping
Then
She slept…
Frustration
Was on her face…

Night is ending
I touched her…
Wanted
To take her
To heaven…
But…
Her soul denies…

But,
It’s crying…
For refusing…

Poor girl
Come with me…
Avoid pain…
It’s insane…

She says…

“Happiness in pain…
Hope in pain…
Laughter in pain…
These are what
She seeks…

And

She knows…
She is insane…”

She says..

“Heaven doesn’t need her
So,
She chooses hell…
It’s her journey…
She wants to go
Alone…

In the light…
In the dark…
In hells sin…

Or,
In heavens spark…”

Oh!
I’ve to go…
It’s morning…
My destiny is calling…

She wakes up…
Saw the sky
The sun is bright…
She moves out of sight…

I pray…
I pray for her…
It’s a new day…
Hope she’ll find…
A new ray…
Which won’t
Make her blind…

Secret

2006-10-16T17:00:00.000+05:30

Night.
Sounds silhouette silence.
Signs of clockwork,
Lanterns,
Cries,
Wrath,
Shackles.
All signs dissolved.
Into a bone cloaking froth.
Skin begins to sear.
Feet meander on winding roads
Craving for the mirror muffled
By a sense of emptiness.

Children sleep.
They must, or I will talk to them.
Sleep.
Wonderful sleep.
Dust ridden, sweaty sleep.
Under layers kept trim.
Fragments neatly swept under
The below.
An oblivion.

Words undulate,
Die, before they are strung together.
The gallows advanced.
Iron sooner, earth sooner.Fragments sooner.
Money sooner.
Neat, bloodless death.
Embryonic.
In the head.
Near eyes unreliable,
Hair useless,
Ears numb with silhouettes,
Bones bald, overwhelmed,
Limbs migrating.

Above, a sack of fragments
Asleep.
Above.
Passions injected,
Skin felt by skin,
Language washed out,
Eyes devouring,
Hands running over crevices,
Mouths sucking into emptiness.
Celebrating.
Bones clumped.
Blood flows.
Orderly, directed flow
And primitive rhythm.
Like children wallowing
In fresh bodies
With no memory, nor love.
Dust smiting them slowly.
Slow, like serendipity unnoticed.
Rain drenching them to the bone,
Skin yielding to the silvery percolation.
Greys intriguing.
Greys denied, loved for assumed absence.
Scars mild, camouflaged.
Wallowing in a psychedelic dream,
Almost sensual. Carnal, to the mind and body.

Lacerate my skin.
Shred my threads of order, flow and purpose.
Burn the numbness.
Singe the cysts.
Break me into a million pieces.

Litres of blood to resurrection,
Before the wake of the other psychedelic dream
Fresh psychedelic dream.

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

2006-10-15T12:45:00.000+05:30

THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST TOUCHING MAILS I HAVE READ....
HENCE I WANTED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL
I KNOW ITS A LIL LONG BUT I AM SURE ITS WORTH READING....

HAS BEEN WRITTEN BY A HUSBAND
On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.
Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so. I moved Dew's hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her.
At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.
When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.
Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more. When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I've got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?
I'm serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.

She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement, which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart.

The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember.

"You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning".
I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically. I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger.

So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don't tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this.I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart.
Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it's time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at he last minute.

I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn't notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious.She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears.

I walked downstairs and drove to the office.When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card.
I smiled and wrote,""" I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."'"""

2006-10-14T12:56:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time there lived a chicken called Pox. her body was dotted with red spots and she looked quite pretty in them. Her parents were surprised when she was born as none in her family had a dotted body. The mother thought, "Wow!! our Pox is so beautiful! She must go for the Most Adorable Chicken Prize!" Her father exclaimed, "She broke our family tradition!" Her brothers and sisters kept staring at her, now and then said, "Weirdo!"
Then one day a group of farmers saw it and thought tht the chicken must be suffering from some disease and parted it from other chickens. Pox was really very sad. She cried tht it wasnt her fault! it wasnt really...but human beings doesnt ever accept anything new as good.

A few decades later, people suffered from low grade fever with mid headache and weakness. it was very infectious as many people got the symptoms simulyaneously...Suddenly they discovered tht their whole bodies are covered with red itchy lumps! How horrible they looked! An old man who was one among the group of farmers who saw Pox, announced tht he saw a chicken once with red spots all over her body and her name was Pox. this must be the same disease. SO from then onwards the disease came to be known as CHICKEN POX!

.

2006-10-07T21:53:00.000+05:30

In darkness
A voice speaks out
The bleak image runs wild
A moment of sudden madness

To be or not to be, that is the question —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
Troubled arena claps at your arrival
Time wanted to fold itself
Around your arms

Treacherous veins flow in impure emotions
The colour is fading
Charm of piper haunts

Rattled stone hits the roof
In a tin can , I kept my treasure
Behind closed eyes

Locked in Mesmerz

2006-10-07T16:52:00.000+05:30

Locked In Mesmerz

Waking up locked within dreams;
The Incandescent irony of truth and reality
The flawless cravings of an ideal tomorrow -
Built upon the faux hope of living through death.

In the blazing fire of the monster temple -
Forced from the third floor and on to the green bed.
Waking up in the hospital from a torrential earthquake
And still wondering about the fire stealth.

Menstruating ones thoughts of recurring desires,
Of pain and trauma of overwhelming happiness.
Lost among the innumerable strands of illusions
Caressing and cursing ones own existence

Read the rest of the poem at:
http://shamasis.blogspot.com/2006/10/locked-in-mesmerz.html

...

It's Raining

2006-10-06T21:58:00.000+05:30

It’s green
It’s dark
It’s raining

Silence
Everywhere…

In mind???

One, two
Drops…
Of rain…
Of tear…

Night…
Music…
Of mystery…
Of life…
Of death…
Of dark…
Of light???

Rebirth
Or
Another journey?
Towards death…
Death of life…
Death of image…
Death of faith…

Images…
Fades away…
People…
Grew up…
Loneliness…
Becomes friend…
A new ray…
Towards life…
Towards heart…
Oh hell!!!
These hurt…

Sky
Crying…
Stupid
It’s raining…

October - Month of Celebrations....

2006-10-06T00:03:00.000+05:30

PS - Posting in suggestion given by Euphoric Dreamz..:-)))

.

2006-10-03T15:57:00.000+05:30

AwAy FrOm SuRLy BoNdS oF EaRtH....

2006-10-03T13:43:00.000+05:30

Away from surly Bonds of earth
Hoping to get new Life after death
To see the World up next
To see the space crafts moving away from Earth
Connecting places far from the Earth

But the saddest thing for me will be I wont Exist
Hoping for New life after death

To see the inventions made by the scientists
But the saddest thing for me will be I wont exist
From Ash to Ash
and there I will remain,
Only sweet memories
That will retain,
For me I wont be able to see the whole new world
As the saddest thing for me will be I wont exist
Hence hoping for new life after death

Away from this worldly stage
Leading my role and passing away
For death will lay its icy hands on me
Away from surly bonds of earth
Hoping to get new life after death.

Whisper of a Dead Soul

2006-09-24T19:39:00.000+05:30

The night
The moon
And you…

You…
Walking slowly…
Empty mind,

Alone…

So near
Yet
So far…

Don’t cry…
Stay here
To see
Worlds’ cry!!!

Crying……
Can they???
It’s death…

Itz dark,
Itz black,
Blackhole?

Itz life
Living death…
Hell?
Or just,
Not heaven…

Come here
Sit once…
Can you?

Tell me
Can you?
Only you?

I wish…
You can,
You wish
You can…
Time wishes
You can’t

Cold night…
Cold touch…
Your touch…
So cold!!!

Dreams…
Broken…

My graveyard…
White flowers…
Tears…

But you
Come here
Feel me…

Can you???

Blue night…
Winds blow…
Dry leaves…

It’s me…

Stretch
Your hands…
And…
Listen…

It says…
Something…

Listen…

It says...

My heart
Still beats…

For love…
For life…
For you…

The Nature's Rhythm...

2006-09-22T18:30:00.000+05:30

Rhythm is a fundamental property of motion. You may sometimes refer to it as Periodicity and sometimes as Music! But overall it is the same... it is anything that repeats itself and has a particular personality of its own.

Yes, Personality is the word. This may sound weird, but it is this intricate difference that makes one rythm different from the other. Take as an example, the rhythm of the waves crashing onto the sea beaches.

For the one who has been staying for a while at the beach, it becomes as close to his heart and mind as the rhythm of his own heart and breath. There's a little gap of anticipation when gradually the water collects itself, then forms a huge hillock and then with a loud impulsive, yet extensive crash it smears the golden beaches with gurgling white water... just like warm milk spilled over a toasted bread... it engulfs the bread to such an extent that for a moment the milk and the bread become One.

The waters of the sea engulfs the vicinity with such a force that it's lust for the land becomes so evident, the unbreakable relation between them is stamped with authority in this action. But when the water recedes, there's another sound... like a sublime cry... an intense passion of pain of two lovers growing apart, both of them unable to unclasp their hands and in that effort they end up tearing them apart... tearing up their souls for the cause.

Can you hear it, can you feel it... are you not getting drenched in their tears, are you not blown away by their sighs which you always feel at the beaches... well, I can. My ears are still filled up by this dual music of the sea, a part of the Nature's Rhythm.

Another instance is that of the Rain.

The Rain's difference in the rhythm lies in its frequency. Wait, dont think its haphazard... on the otherhand Rain is not a simple guy... he has a multi-dimensional personality! So much so that there are hidden layers of music in its so called fast-paced rhythm.

Rain unfolds itself to you depending upon you mindset. It's like a friend who soothes you no matter how you feel. His voice seems fiiling your heart with joy, all the things it touches makes a sound of applausal, of celebration when you're happy. It seems like the whole town is dancing with you while the jostling and merry host is the rain itself. He arranges a surprise party for you, the most enjoyable and self-less one...

And, while you're in a doleful mode, the rain not only lends you a shoulder to cry into, but like an understanding friend hides your wails from the public with the sound of its consolation. And even, if you let the rain touch you then, it will wipe off the tears from your tender cheeks with the tears of its own! I wonder who else in this whole wide world will be such a friend who serves you expecting nothing for himself. Atleast to me, the Rain has been giving the greatest emotional support over the ages...

The Nature's Rhythm is intense. But you only need to have the ears to listen to it.

~~--------------~~

This was originally not meant to be written as a post. I was just writing a lazy email to one of my friends. But I thought, "Whoa! Long time I haven't posted anything in SFTH!" So I gave in again to my laziness and just copy-pasted it from that email. So guyz, please dont mind if this is kinda cheap in the garland of the beautiful flowers of posts that you've been quite successfully composing...

10 RULES FOR A BLESSED DAY

2006-09-21T20:18:00.000+05:30

1. TODAY I WILL NOT STRIKE BACK . . .
If someone is rude, if someone is impatient, if someone is unkind, I
will not respond in a like manner.

2. TODAY I WILL ASK GOD TO BLESS MY 'ENEMY'
If I come across someone who treats me harshly or unfairly, I will
quietly ask God to bless that individual. I understand "enemy" could be
a family member, neighbor, co-worker or stranger.

3. TODAY I WILL BE CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT I SAY . . .
I will carefully choose and guard my words being certain that I do not
spread gossip.

4. TODAY I WILL GO THE EXTRA MILE . . .
I will find ways to help share the burden of another person.

5. TODAY I WILL FORGIVE . . .
I will forgive any hurts or injuries that come my way.

6. TODAY I WILL DO SOMETHING KIND FOR SOMEONE, (BUT I WILL DO IT IN
SECRET . . . )
I will reach out anonymously and bless the life of another.

7. TODAY I WILL TREAT OTHERS THE WAY I WISH TO BE TREATED . . .
I will practice the golden rule. "Do Unto others as I would have them do
unto me"- with EVERYONE I encounter.

8. TODAY I WILL RAISE THE SPIRITS OF SOMEONE WHO IS DISCOURAGED . . .
My smile, my words, my expression of support, can make the difference to
someone who is wrestling with life.

9. TODAY I WILL NURTURE MY BODY . . .
I will eat less . . . I will eat only healthy foods. I will thank God
for my body.

10. TODAY I WILL GROW SPIRITUALLY . . .
I will spend a little more time in prayer today. I will begin reading
something spiritual or inspirational; I will find a quiet place (at some
point during this day) and listen to God's voice.

Luke 10:27
He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all
your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love
your neighbor as yourself.'"

Luke 10:27
We learn three principles about loving our neighbor: (1) lack of love is
often easy to justify, even though it is never right; (2) our neighbor
is anyone of any race, creed, or social background who is in need; and
(3) love means acting to meet the person's needs.
Wherever you live, there are needy people close by. There is no good
reason for refusing to help.

Remember, today is a gift from God so treat it preciously

( I was surfing net...suddenly saw this article.....thought to share this in sfth)

Add + to ur life

2006-09-17T12:10:00.000+05:30

Positive thinking can help one very much. How? Let me explain. On the day of an examination(for e.g maths) the students are generally tensed very much. They think," oh! what would happen if i cannot answer a single question or i forget all tht i have learnt and practised! oh !!!!" well this is the way atleast my friends think beofre our maths exam. You can see how they think negative. they lose all confidence and count themselves as the worst of all. while giving the exam when they see a little tough question they get soo much frightened tht they go wrong even with the easy sums. they forget tht they have some brains too with the help of which they can ezily answer the question in the question paper. thus u see how they fail to achieve success.
The same happens in real life too. Most of us think tht we dont have any talent so we wont be able to do anything good or successful. We underestimate our abilities. We forget that Nature has given all of us the legs hands five senses and the power to think. even then only few of us are successful in our lives and are remembered for hundreds of years. Why? What's the mystery of their success? Noone is born wise, wisdom is made. then why only THEY have happiness, laughter in their lives?
one day i was reading a book of Shiv Khera and on the cover of book it was wriiten--
" Winners dont do different things, they do things differently."
This rang a bell in my head and i realized tht THIS IS THE ANSWER!!! Yes the successful see the lives in a different way. Thts why they are successful. Thts why they are different from the rest. THEY HAVE A POSITIVE ATTITUDE TOWARDS LIFE. they think they can be succesful and so they are. Our fault is tht we never think tht its us who are building our future not some unseen hands. WE are the one who choose how we would live. if we think tht i will be sad and wont be ever successful then the thoughts will prove to be true. but if we say tht YES I CAN then there is noone in this whole universe to stop us from being the WINNERS. once when we do make a mistake we think tht "see i cant do it. this is not for me. i cant do anything in life coz i have failed once and i fear tht i wont be successful again. " Hah! We are soo stupid!! Learn from ur mistakes and just go ahead. have the courage to face challenges. Dont lose the game before it even starts. Just keep one thing in mind ----

I WILL DO IT BECAUSE I CAN!

Friends

2006-09-16T11:33:00.000+05:30

TO LOVE : the journey continues...

2006-09-15T18:04:00.000+05:30

Section 6. My Last Letter to Mayaa...

Projecting love wrongly.

A delinquency done.

I never knew how to love.

The Blue of the depth, we thought our love had

And the Green of longeveity,

Mayaa,

Are fast losing their colours...

And the moonbeam now wavers

Only as a figment of my naive imagination.

"What might be a joke for you might be an object of utmost seriousness..."

My heavy eyes

Drop a few silent tears on your breasts..

My tired head resting on your bosom;

..My heart dissected

With the scissors of logical categorisations..

Can you hear me, Mayaa? ..Tell me. ..Where do I go now?

Love was always a joke to us, wasn't it Mayaa?
We laughed together. We cried together. We rested in each others' cool shadows when Time halted for a few moments, in its fast journey, by mistake..

This series was not an insult towards Love. It was just a trial to crack down the devil scientifically.
May be, there are two ways to view this world. Emotionally and scientifically. With your warm heart. With your analizing mind.

The Heart tends to integrate. The Mind wants to disintegrate.

A photographer knows that when the angle of a shot is changed, it doesn't change the object itself...

And it's not that the person who cares to take a picture from an odd angle doesn't know how to take it straight...

Love.

Was always a joke to me, yes!

A Black Humour.

..Which has always taught me....

that, ..it's all a matter of coming and going in this world, and attaching so much unnecessary importance to the days in between.

We are all going to perish one day. Why try to 'explain' an 'emotion' then? And what harm is to try and 'explain' an 'emotion' then? Everything is so impermanent. And hence, so insignificant.

Impermanent are we.

And hence, imperfect.

The Orange morning sky makes to us a promise. Onto which we cling so dearly.

Till,

The imperfect soil

Makes us understand

That it's just another of a stupid life

We look to live...

What is love other than a few hormonal secretions? What else is the heart other than a stupid, monotonous machine that continues to pump blood in and out of our lives, without any valid reasons...

Love rendered insignificant? In our hearts, does the quest ever end?

And it's just this 'practical' part that I had tried to break and peep into...
Just may be to find, that can a scientific explanation help us reduce the infinite pain we get? ..May be, just on a trial to find some answers that the heart itself has always cared us not to give.

You know, the minds had always tried to insult. And more so when it's an emotion under their scanner. Only a few experiments it observes and draws a few conclusions -- which are never right!

Science is never right.

It only models.

And modelling is, perhaps, the only way to simplify..

And there are always new, subsequent theories coming up to 'explain' wherever the previous ones go inadequate.
Quantum mechanics came like that. Einstein's 'velocity correction' of Newton was nothing but that.
Century old theories, ..Classical mechanics, Newton's laws -- thought to be correct!

"The centre of my own Universe

Am I,

Creating enchanting dreamworlds..."

"To broaden my horizon

And to take others' views in...?"

Yes. That's how Images are transformed to Reality. The Magic Realism originating from our fallibility expands to form the Ultimate Vision...

But how could such heavenly light be created, if other fellow modellers do not join in?

Many will fail. I failed. And now I know "at least one way in which I cannot make a bulb."

And someday, someway

Wouldn't an Edison care to come up to mend my broken bulb?

Would ever Love's Logic and Emotion be confluenced to take the flow path of Philosophy?

Why not start now...? Why not let us try...? ..Because each one of us holds some unrevealed stories to tell.

"Can you tell what another person is thinking? You can only assume."
: ) : ) It's only this that quantifications are always tried to be made universal.

But I forget that I had ended up with a broken bulb!

I forget that even in today's world, poets refuse to be scientists! ..Even for just a while!

May be, it's too much of a wastage of energy that I had asked from them, Mayaa...

If only repititive art-pieces could save our Love... and on 'practical' grounds...!

And all this while, what I will be left with is a few shattered pieces of my brainchild, that will always care to remind me that I didn't know how to love...

If you only could forgive me, Mayaa..!

Dream of a Girl

2006-09-14T20:49:00.001+05:30

Don’t come to me

Don’t look at me…

Why do you?

Am I going insane?

When the moon

Give rays

On earth,

On my memory lane…

The touch

I treasure…

Do I really?

Or it’s just pleasure?

Sometimes… sometimes… sometimes… we can’t control… or may be, we don’t want to control!!! Our brain and our heart both indulge in a war… a war of to be or not to be… but still everything happens… because it happens… because it is destined to happen…

The deep blue night

Two souls became one

Or, two half souls?

Is it true that when two persons love each other (as lover) they become one soul? But, the devilish truth behind this word is when two souls become one then the result is two half souls… pardon me… correct me… if you find it wrong…

Differences erased

By our brains…

And,

Our brains united…

Our souls didn’t.

I cried…

But

Then I couldn’t…

Lips locked

I’m locked inside you

My soul didn’t lock…

But your soul was screaming

“PLEASE DON’T GO!”

I sacrificed…

Everything I possess

“You are insane”

My heart says-

To my brain…

Prince Charming, Romeo, and loads…

A girl grow up… with a dream, that one day her Prince Charming will come riding a horse to take her with him…

The girl grows up… becomes a lady… a women… becomes successful… professionally very successful… but the dream is still young… as it was the 1^st day.. When she read “mills and boons”… or “love story” first time…

But … but… but…

One day she saw her dreams are smashed… she saw that her dreams are smashed… and she is sleeping with a man… a successful man… a loving boyfriend… partner… or husband… but not his Prince Charming!!!

The Slap of Reality!!!

(I apologize to everyone for this weird post... actually last night suddenly this post comes to my mind from some thing...please bother this post..or don't bother...)

.

2006-09-11T17:07:00.000+05:30

The music was divine
The moment was spootless
But where were you ?
For heavens , give a twinkle
The heavy sound
Sounded sweet
I knew you would not say ..
Sweet sensations are between us
Why did it rain ?
Why did I cry ?
I could not answer you back
I could not measure life
A spotless mind looks good
But where is the beauty of rubbish
Mistakes always happen
We are all human
I love the rhythm in your smiles
They haunt me so often
You wait for sunshine
I weep for the sunset
If it was a game
why did we play it ?
No answers
Silence haunts me
You knew I was lost
you never cared to show me the way
A selfish soul never waited for you all this days
I am wide awake in my sleep
I am searching to memories to delete
I haven't slept for a while
Wide open are the doors
refusal to look inside
Do not speak
Do not spoil the divine moment
Can I kill you ?
Like all conspiring lovers !
I will , in due time
Like a dreaded dream
I run back to you
addiction to a smile of yours hurts me a lot
Broken glasses I said could not be repaired
But I melted them and re casted them
What next ?
I answer my questions
Why don't you answers your own tragedies

Closed chapter with misplaced pages
Progress is stalled in a quite corner
Blind sarcasms are no longer funny
Call me back to the attic
Push me down
I am fragile
I am bound to break in the impact
But I shall return with an answer
If you ask a question !

TO LOVE : the journey of the human psyche from the Orange of Dreams to the Brown of Soil

2006-09-09T20:11:00.000+05:30

Successful love stories do not need psyching-outs. It's only when a love fails that you ask yourself questions.
And again, some loves fail due to misfortunes; ..due to incidents that couldn't be avoided; ..due to fate.
Leave them. They have different stories to tell.
But there are some loves which fail due to separations.
No fate this time. No third angle issues. It's just that the relationship itself failed. And it's then when you want to know more, ...that exactly what went wrong.
In Section 2, I promised to try and give an answer to the question that why our feelings do not get reciprocated when we love somebody so passionately, in many of the cases. Or why somebody lets us know, at the middle of a relationship, that he/she is not interested anymore.
And in the forthcoming section I am going to do exactly that.
To try. To try and categorise.
Categorisations in Love come when you stop using your heart. Don't ask me if it's right to do that. I am going to do exactly that. I told you this is more like a Reseach Paper on Love. Not a poem.
It's time we dissected love with our Brains, so that we don't have to go through the same pain once all over again. More so perhaps because you don't want to repeat your mistakes the second time, ..if Love ever comes to you the second time.
You can't guarantee that it will not. More so in today's world, where people have started to live at The Present.

Section 4. ...on Reciprocation of Love.
...on a search for the 'why's and 'how's.

You think you love. And the truth is you do. Passionately, sincerely... you care. And when you see your love is not getting reciprocated, you start to feel the pain. And you love more. In your mind. In your heart. And you get more pain.
(Will you come out? It's the test of your love. We will look for the 'how's and 'why's of this question later!)

Why does this happen?

Because the strength of your feelings, your carings, ..the strength of your love, .. never quite manages to reach the person. It's misdirected.

Everyone of us in this world is unique in our own way. And we love in our own ways. And very naturally, we want to receive love in the way we want to. And, ..may be it's here, ..where we go wrong.

We not only need to respect the differences that we lovers have, we also need to identify the differences. It's more tough compared to what it looks at the first glance. It's here where understanding comes in.

If we understand each other, inspite of our differences, we connect. We can see and identify when we receive love. Even if that way of love doesn't conform to our own way of loving...

It's then when you do understand, your loving energy gets a direction. And may be, the right one.

Or else, ...this fact is too true that when one does start to receive unconditional love, he/she just can't resist a desire to connect. As the bottomline of this world is: Every heart is lonely. Each wants to live with a heart that understands it and cares for it.

You give love doesn't necessarily imply that your partner receives that love.
You can only manage to bridge the gap, and mitigate the energy loss, by Understanding, ..by Connecting.

But again, what happens if the differences --which never show up first, at the start of a relationship; ..and gradually start to emerge out of nowhere.. -- are too big to live with?

You have three options then.

1. You change your lover.
2. You change yourself.
3. You part ways.

When there's a strong love between two persons, with a minimal understanding of each other, ..both of them change themselves fitting the requirements of their Love. Slowly they change. But surely.

This is called 'adaptation to the other's needs' in Love's language.

And this continues untill you conform to the same things, or at least, stop disapproving the other's habits and ways of living and ways of loving and receiving love.

It's perhaps wrong to force a change in your lover. And you just can't force it if you love strongly. You hope that things are going to work out by their own. And then it may so happen that the person who claims to love you just don't bring in those changes. Or maybe, ..he/she just can't.
Or even it may so happen that you do these things yourself.

..so many things that can happen in Love.

And it's then when you start to think whether you should 'accept' or 'come out'!

Tough question. And the answer varies from person to person.

Many couples 'accept' each others' unchangable and painful differences and move on in life! For the concern they share for each other. For the sake of their Love.

And some are too individualistic to accept these differences. They part ways. Even if it hurts and hurts hell..

It's not that they are wrong. It's just that they are different.

Everybody should be given the liberty to walk his/her own way in life. As far as they don't break the laws or social morals or ethics.
It's the life of the two of them. Why not let them decide?

Or is it the case that you fell in love, ..without a minimal understanding of yourself and your partner? ...or, with a minimal understanding of the bond you shared before the commitment started?

You might say that you didn't plan and fall in love. Hmmm. True maybe. Yes, love happens. But then again, you had a minimum basis...

You don't fall in love with a person whose ways of life and whose points of view you strictly disagree with! Was your love Orange then? Nothing wrong in that. It's only that you have more risks. ..Risks of an unsecure or uncertain future together!

But do you claim that your love was a Brown one? ..All about accepting each others' unchangable differences and moving on in life? What went wrong, then?

Section 5. ...do you see the images right?
...it's the Game of Magic Realism.

LOVE IS BLIND.

To answer such questions, we should be going deeper into human psyche;
..where 'crush'es come in; ..the concepts of 'infatuations'...

More deep...

When your lover, --that person, projects an image showing who he/she pretends to be, ...that has a heaven and a hell difference with who he/she actually is.
You don't get a chance to know him/her better untill you come too close to identify the truth.

Even more deep...

When you hold conflicting desires at the depth of your own psyche, ..or different desires compared to what you believed to have.
It's the same thing. Just the other way round.
In the process you identify yourself, feel sorry and want to come out; ..but never admit that you did something wrong!
Oh! The satire to be a human!

Or, still deeper...

When you fall in love expecting so much from each other that you just fail to bear each others' loads at the middle of the relationship!

Or, someday, someway you discover that the understanding you shared at the beginning has vanished somehow. ..You had changed!
There stands a wall. Which neither of you can cross.
Nurturing your hurt egos, you part ways.

These things happen. It's called the Rocky Road of Love.

Some cross it together. Some leave behind their partners. Some are left behind.
And some leave behind themselves.

Unfortunate.
And this is just the price you pay, if you fall in love with a person whose varying images you can't grasp or manipulate...

Be sure where you are going out. And with whom.

If possible, restrict your feelings inside.
Be patient and observe. Yes, it's tough to do, ..if not impossible, ...when you are in love.

But let your Heart love and give this job to your Brain, ..can you? Let it see and weigh the pros and cons of a satisfying and secure future.

Let it decode the images. Are they real ? Are you in love with an image, --somebody you just believe to exist, ..or ...do you really connect ? How much Orange does your Brown have?

Play the game efficiently to strip the images off. Let your Brain reveal the Real person whom your Heart claims to love...

You can at least Try, ..than to feel sorry for yourself the second time...

( I will try my best to end this gibberish in another post...)

Broken blossoms:

2006-09-09T09:33:00.001+05:30

Zareena is 12.She cannot help but excitedly narrate to others what fun school is. Words, numbers, colours, friends….she enjoys every bit. Zareena’s life was very different even a few months back. A flashback into her life will tell a story….a story that is still a reality for many more Zareena’s …..

She is the elder daughter of a poverty-stricken four member family of Sivakasi, a matchstick making village in Tamil Nadu. Inability of her factory working father and domestic help mother to make both ends meet, naturally pushed the seven year old into work. But Zareena wasn’t alone. All children of her village were employed at the matchstick factory. The day started at 4.30 AM when a bus from the factory arrived to pick up the children and take them to the factory. Here Zareena began work by placing frames for the matchsticks into racks. Following a breakfast of fermented rice and pickle, she filled boxes, labeled them and helped packing them. After a few days at the factory, little Zareena was engaged in mixing chemicals in the factory’s boiler room. The first signs of the seven year old’s health breaking down became evident. She often came home with scalded fingers and hands. Sitting for long hours in that cramped position left her shoulders. Because of incessant inhaling of hot and toxic chemicals, the girl developed respiration trouble. After almost 12 hours at work, Zareena returned home with the rest. Here too the same meagre meal welcomed her home. She had no books, colours, pictures, toys. A little sleep was all she asked for....the balm to heal her wounds and prepare her for the hard day to follow. But even that was interrupted by the screams and squeals of her mother, being bashed by his drunk father, just home from work. Tears rolled down the little girl’s eyes, wetting the pillow beneath her head.

Zareena wanted to study. Whenever she accompanied her ammi to the household where she worked, which wasn’t too often, she was awestruck. There was a complete children’s room, where the kids spoke in a language strangely foreign to her. They laughed at her when she couldn’t respond to their questions, mocked at her for not going to school……..more tears..who would listen to Zareena’s story? Ammi? She had her own tragedies to deal with…..Abba? He pulled at her plaits and beat her when anyone from the factory complained that she had dozed off for a few minutes during work.

It sunk into her system…..her life just went on and on……matchsticks, frames, fermented rice and pickle, labels, chemicals, heat, stains, burns…

Then ARUNODHAYA happened to her. True to its name, it brought into Zareena’s life, the rays of the sun. like her, many others from the village were given a new lease of life.

Education opened her eyes, and she convinced her parents that she positively wanted to attend school. Arunodhaya made sure that Zareena and the rest would not have to go back to the factory.

12 year old Zareena is the “student leader” of her class. English is her favourite subject. Clad in an old cheap salwaar kameez, she talks in a determined voice. Zareena aspires to be a doctor. She tries her best to cut down on abba’s drinking, and believes she’s doing good at it.

Zareena is one of god’s chosen children…..the right thing happened and the story of her life turned completely. But what about the rest like her? What about the lanky boy who works dangerously in the mechanic shop? What about the 6 year old, who has left her village, to come take care of your 6 month old? Will the innocent girl who works in the heat and chemicals of the glass bangle factory, ever be fortunate to adorn her wrists with beautiful bangles….

A Long Leave

2006-09-08T12:00:00.000+05:30

Well I had been on a long leave these days coz I was battling with my Part I exams....and no I'm not heaving a sigh of relief now that it's over...coz I'm dreading the day when my results would be announced!

So what was I doing these days?Well I went to Belur math one fine evening to watch the "Sandhya Arti" and that too by a river boat ride on the Ganga.Man it was awesome!Now I really do believe once in a life time you should go there to watch the arti and that too by a boat....and feel the winds caressing your face and you will feel like an uncaged bird free from all wordly meaness and pettiness!And when you will hear the"Aratric bhajan" of the brahmacharies echoing and filling in the great hall of the Mandir...you will feel closer to God like never before!

It may be so that many of you may be thinking"whats so great about it?".......but believe me once you go there ...surely you will feel like I did!

I would have loved to write down the details...but words have failed me in this case,I guess.Till then..........

Sionara!

The Fighter's Spirit

2006-09-07T08:58:00.000+05:30

(There are some very fundamental mis-conceptions of the public about the Martial Arts. Being a proud martial artist myself, I always dreamt about writing something that creates a stir and clears all the fog about this wonderful form of art. I've finally took up the effort to put it into words briefly and I hope this doesn't go in vain...)

Shakespeare said that Life is a stage where we play different characters tactfully. But more than that, I believe that life is an arena, a battle-field where we fight out each other’s existence, struggle to survive in this hostile place.

This is not only a war with each other individuals, this battle is not at all that simple… this war is against none other, but Ourselves! Yes, here we learn to fight out our intentions, we learn to control our desires, we learn to conquer the evil inside us. But, what is the target? To win in all of these battles, of course. But, the question is ‘Why?’ … Why should we fight with our natural instincts and desires that are rooted so deep inside us? The answer is: That is what makes us human. If we let ourselves go in any way that it wants to, literally, there wouldn’t be any difference between us and the barbaric wild animals. And, using our intuition we know very well, that it wont be a suitable environment to live in.

Yes, at the end of the day we are still animals, but we have a special power that they actually lack… the power to Think, the power to Analyse, the power to Dream, the power to Hope, the power of intuition, … that is, the powers of the inner Spirit!

Here I’m not talking about ‘Divinity’. I am here to show you the magnanimity of the power of the Spirit inside all of us. The mainframe of our system, which gives instructions out to our body and mind, is controlled by none other than the Will power. Infact, actually there is nothing we do that we wish not to! Anything and everything we do or think is empowered and governed by this Will.

We realise it or not, there is a fighter in each and everyone of us. Yes, I am talking to YOU … there’s a fighter in YOU too! Though it remains very dominant and passive, it is very aggressive and ferocious; it finds every other opportunity to escape the four-walls of the dungeons of cowardice and come out through our actions.

Martial Arts is publicly thought to be a sport or atleast a co-curricular activity that helps you to be physically strong and defend yourself from oppressers effectively. Apart from these, martial artists are thought to be ‘cool’ and ‘dangerous’. But now, I will tell you about the original philosophy, the actual meaning and goal behind the practice of the Martial Arts.

The origin of the martial arts, specifically the arts of Kungfu and Karate, was surprisingly from the most peace-loving communities of the human society, the Buddhist Monks. These people, who generally spend their whole day meditating, got biologically affected for remaining physically inactive for a time time. Hence several diseases and physical problems and sometimes sleep used to creep-in in the hours of self-realisation. Apart from that, there were many communities who loved to annoy these peaceful people. Hence, as a method of self-defence and also as an exercise, originated the martial arts.

The object of martial arts is not fighting, on the contrary it is used to stop fighting. I remember, when I was a kid, I was very turbulent, impatient and sometimes very aggressive and violent. But now, after 8 years of extensive training in the martial arts, I can redirect all of my negative energy for a positive cause. I am now one of the most non-violent, peaceful , soft-spoken and patient people of my group. Martial arts has taught me to live with my back straight and at the same time lower my head to my superiors. Ego, anger, impatience have got a back-seat while my confidence and mental stability have got an enormous boost. Concentration, focus, ability of resistance against all odds, the spirit of taking on any challenge, the cool mind to handle any presure… these are all the ‘side-effects’ of this pure form of art. This not only guides to be a better person, but makes you one and brings fundamental positive changes to your character and even the way you think.

Thus the point is not to struggle, but being such that you suit perfectly in the system, without even noticing it yourself. And, this arts prepares the back-stage for this performance only. The main object is not to rectify others, but to rectify yourself… realise who you are, what your true abilities are, to be a a good human being yourself.

Corruptions exist, as it always will. Thus we know about scarred people who forgot the original purpose of this lesson of life-time. Instead they think of it as a ‘course’ and boast of ‘completeing’ it. Let me tell you something, most of us think that a black-belt is the final step of mastering a style of martial arts… but here goes the truth: in Japanese black belt is called Shodan, where ‘sho’ means ‘the first step’. Thus where we think that it has ended, actually that is the beginning! And let me tell you, martial arts is never a course, it has no end. Like you cant stop building your character, like you cannot become ‘The Master’ in music or literature, there is also to stopping in martial arts. It becomes an intricate part of your life, infact it become Life itself for you when you are seriously involved. And, I’m telling this all from a first-person’s view!

But there are still some people who love to show off, they tread in the shallow depths of the ‘glamour’ and ‘cool factor’ of this art, and hence at the end of the day wear it just like an ornament, as a sport. But the ones, who embrace it to their soul, realise that it isn’t just a physical activity, but it is a Way of Life. The way to be peaceful in life, to be a person with honour, dignity and lastly security. The ornament, the glamour the individual ability, the flexibility … all wears off with old age, as it must. But the character remains. That is the target of martial arts… to gain permanence, to get incorporated into the character itself, which never wears off till Death does it apart, maybe!

Thus, according to me, a true martial artist may not be a champion in a number of national and international tournaments, but he is a champion of himself. For, he has learnt to conquer his senses, control his desires, divert his subtlest energies for a greater, nobler cause. He always wins, not little ‘skirmishes’ on a ‘builit-up arena’, but greater battles that really matter, and he also wins the heart of all the people around with his good nature, with his Love. Yes, don’t be so surprised, martial arts teaches us to love.

It takes us on a tour through the maximum hardships, treads in the boundaries of our capabilities and extend them to let us realise the unnoticed whole new passive world of extraordinary capabilities in us and ultimately reaches the Divine Soul that is within all of us and governing all our activities.

It nurtures the fighters in us and makes them Emperors, reigning upon an empire, that is Within!

The champions hold their head high in the air and say :

“Come ye trials and challenges; come life’s big waves, for I am ready…”

(Grandmaster Mas Oyama)

Thus is the meaning of Martial Arts.

.

2006-09-06T17:25:00.000+05:30

TO LOVE : the journey of the human psyche from the Orange of Dreams to the Brown of Soil

2006-09-04T22:32:00.000+05:30

( a few things to say : I do not intend to attack anybody living or dead. It's just this that by "you" or "we" in this post, I mean everybody of us; ..and, yes, including myself. I am human. I remain flawed thus. And again. This is my personal view. And neither do I expect to thrust my view on my readers. And still I wonder why I receive so many comments, when I do nothing other than to talk rubbish. I am sorry! You just may have to bear me for another 3 posts. Forgive me. And 'Thank You' for the reason that you haven't kicked me out of this blog as yet...)

Section 3. ...do we 'Understand'?
...do we know to play 'the Other'?

...ON OURSELVES.

It's this cucoon of self-absorbment, that we talked about in my last section, which we had never believed to exist in the first place.

We dream. Maybe, ..a better way to put it, ..we expect. Of course! What's life without expectations? What's life without hope?

But again.. expectations should be realistic.

Now what does being real or practical mean? Does it mean to tie yourself down to a few social, moral values? Does this mean that your desires should all be smashed to pieces just because this stupid world doesn't validate them?

(Poets do exactly that. They don't wait for the validation. They just express. And in most of the cases the world comes round ...after a hundred years... to these uttered words! But again, we are discussing on us, ..the common people, ..not on poets. Remember? ..We are discussing the love of soil, ..not the love of dreams.)

We might take a bit of help from psychology. The topic on which we would be discussing in this section is termed : 'projecting your self on another person' in psychology. It's called : "taking the role of The Other". What the hell is this all about?

It's nothing but a scientific/ statistical interpretation of the underlying word in all relationships. CONNECTION.

When you suddenly realise that the desires you hold, deep inside your heart, just don't take into account the other human beings on this planet, ... you know, that you are being one-sided!
You can't take yourself to be a broad minded person.

You CAN say : "I have the liberty to live my life.."

But again, this means that you are a very poor connector.
You don't connect with people. It's as if the others' lives, ..their problems, their constraints mean so very less to you.

i.e. you don't ... or is it 'can't'?... judge a situation, nor do you validate a desire -- placing yourself to somebody else' position. i.e. in psychological language, you just don't know to take The Other's role...

And it's then when the game of your life becomes dangerous. You play with pain. You play with fire. You have so many desires to fulfill. But then again, the world doesn't run by the wish of your wand. You stay locked up. In your cucoon. Dreaming...

And when you start stepping out, you start feeling for others.

You start to see others' emotions, others' feelings, others' constraints -- as if they were all yours.. Yours very own. And it's then when you start to understand the 'why's...

You start to know the reasons...

Your eyes open to the ever-complicated mathematics by which this world runs. ( ..because this world is supposed to contain everybody; ..not only you.)

And it is then when you suddenly realise what a baby you had once been... wrapped up in the blankets of your very own sky, ..having their very own stars. And you ask why were your dreams invalidated by reality? ..by this world? Have you thought about this world? Why would it think about you?

It's then when you start to undergo a transformation. Your desires are moulded in the new plane. And, ..maybe, ..they are rendered more right; ...more realistic.

Tell me, had you ever tried to find out why your lover left you? ..or, why he or she fights with you all the times? Did you search for his/her problems -- thinking them to be your very own?

Nobody is bad at heart.

He/she must have had some worries.. May be some unsolvable constraints.. Maybe, he/she decided not to tell you that thinking that you would never understand... Just think what a brilliant image you have in the eyes of your lover then. Whose fault is it anyway? Entirely his/hers?

No. Most of you blamed them. More of you cursed them. And maybe, lesser of you just felt dejected and drained and walked out with a heavy heart. Why? Just because your very own desires remain unfulfilled? ..See? What had I meant by 'the cucoon of self-absorbment'?

..And what do you think, your behaviour and attitude led your lover to think?

And what more do you want when you know, that your lover commited the very same mistake. ..If you only could allow me to call this a 'mistake'?

It's the game of Images, honey, that we, humans, play all our lives.

We make images. We break images.
Images grow. Images change.

But again, Real Truth always manages to stay hidden untill and unless you have the guts and strength to view something from all possible angles. ..If only you knew to take The Other's role. Then, some views wouldn't have locked themselves from your eyes for ever.

A rear camera in a soccer ground picks up a hand-ball, which was totally 'invisible' to the ninety-nine other cameras spread across the ground!

It's said that on one's point of view the world gets interpreted. To see Beauty, one needs to have a pair of beauty-seeking eyes.

And to make your desires come true, you should be able to mould your self.
"It's not the spoon, Neo", "If you look closely, you'll find that it's your mind that bends!"

All Relationships in this world run on one word. "UNDERSTANDING".
--On how well one partner 'understands' the other.
--On how well one partner moulds/ adapts himself/ herself to the needs of The Other.
..and for a relationship to stay, this must be from both the sides.

I had told you once before that nobody is bad at heart.
We are all here to love.
We just need to know how...

Most of the times, we love. But the energy gets misdirected. We end up having a fight.

And this happens because we just don't 'Understand'.

And how do we understand?

By learning to step out of our self-absorption. By learning how to play 'The Other' in a relationship.
By lending a hand of support. By lending a hand of Love.

Listen. And see. Make your mind bend, rather than trying desparately to bend this whole world.

Come out of your false cucoon. And spread Love.

It's easy...

(to be continued)

TO LOVE : the journey of the human psyche from the Orange of Dreams to the Brown of Soil

2006-09-01T15:58:00.000+05:30

Section 2. Hitting the Bull's Eye... it needs honesty to face the truth.

It's hard to avoid practicality. And it's hard to avoid this truth as well that there lies numerous Desires in our psyche which we ourselves don't acknowledge consiously. A dear friend of mine had once told me this that most of these desires, if revealed, can create high disbelieves. ..but they are there. Right there. And sometimes these desires don't go by Social Rules. And there in comes the question of holding Practical Desires. ..well, however beautiful it may be, the poem in the last section doesn't echo practicality.

Each of us dream of a fulfilling love. But almost none of us get it. Is this merely by chance.. or, is there a Paradox hiding somewhere?

Do We Get To The Question Of Questions? :

Answer yourself. Do you love to love, or do you love to receive love more?

Love starts to take shape when you start caring. When someone's smile becomes the source of your joy... when someone's pain becomes the source of your sorrow, ..when your soul starts to connect with somebody.

And who doesn't want to be loved? When there's no question asked on why you behave the way you do. When there's no request asking for a change in your attitude and individuality. When someone just happens to know the right ratio between when to care for you and when to set you free, to let you be who you are. ..when someone is always there to support you at the times of need. ..and when someone makes you feel and believe that you are not alone in this world.. you say someone has started to care for you, someone has started to love you.

And yes, it hurts, ..when we love dearly never to receive love in return. And naturally when we sit down and discuss, there pops up a question. Why does this happen? We would be looking to discuss that in my next posts. But for the time being, let's turn our attention to something, ..perhaps.., more deep.

Do we EXPECT to be loved in return when we love? ..at least do we hold such desires deep in our subconcious? ..and does this word get projected to our concious undergoing a transformation to 'HOPE'?

A question worth asking.

If the two -- loving and being loved remain forever separated in the depth of our psyche, ..tell me, why do we stop caring when we don't receive love? Though it doesn't happen all the times, most of the times this does happen. Are we lovers, then?

..not expecting godly images from our own selves, and agreeing collectively on the fact that being humans we remain very much fallible.., can we answer to our own consience something very honestly?

Aren't we DEALERS of human emotions, then?

And if all of us think in the same line, who's going to come and love us? Had we loved somebody in our own lives? ..Unconditionally? How do we expect unconditional love, then?

We claim we love. We write poems. We lose ourselves in the solitary greens amidst nature, thinking of the moments that we dream of spending together. Utopic?

Desires, desires, desires. They ruin it all.

They take us to a different world. ..Which might be suitable for writing poems, but if the whole world ran like this, ..each person lost in the dirty mazes of his own desires and utopia, who's going to step up and ask whether we need practical supports at the times of need? Who's going to care whether we are going at the right direction in our lives?

Romance serves well. But only as a topping. Without it, yes, the cake tastes bland. But sapping only cream, you end up getting impractically flabby.

The pain that you claim to get is because of your failure to taste those moments. But had you paid for that romance by caring about your love at the times when support was seeked? And are you sure that the support given then was not solely to taste those moments? Had you paid? And had you paid to buy? Sorry. Love is not sold. And do you Love? Did you love? ..just a few unnerving questions to avoid...

If everybody thought like this, the world would had come to a stand still, with every person dreaming inside his own cucoon of self-absorbment and holding impractical, colourful Desires, ..ever oblivient to the fact that they are never going to come true if they didn't venture out, breaking off that shell of self-absorbment. ..Just because, there's nobody waiting to love you outside. Because everybody happens to sleep like you, dreaming and dreaming and dreaming.

Hundreds of unfulfilled desires... enveloping this stupid world.
..And travelling round and round in circles without having any place left to go, ..always returning to its own genesis. And to top it all, sometimes there are double utopian ventures, when your love makes you believe that you are in love. ..Then it's just a question of who comes down to the brown of the soil first and breaks off this feeble relationship, that never was. And there are those couples who hold hands knowing that both of them dream, and asking each other to support their stupid dreams. And, may be, it's this love that stays.

I am going to tell you stories of a handful of real lovers, ..who loved their love more than they loved themselves. ..And how lucky had I been to meet them, face to face.

(to be continued...)

.

2006-09-01T15:17:00.000+05:30

The twisted legacy
It turned around the learned brain

The anatomy of my soul
I split it open

Thousand pieces of glass entered me
It did not hurt

Sad but strange
I forgot what was pain

I fixed my eyes on you
Ravaging options came up

It was hard to concentrate
It was early morning

Dilemma of truth
I could not accept it
I could not kill you

Cold , true , moist were the textures in my eyes
Harsh,Disbelief tones were all you saw in those dark lanes.

Life , come to me once more
I will lead you another destination

THE WALK

2006-08-28T18:29:00.000+05:30

A lonely walk
to nowhere
with no body;
with no fear......

OH ITZ DARK!!!

You came
touched me
your wand
got destroyed!!!
I am a lonely walker......
on this road
on this world......

OH ITZ SO DARK!!!

Feel me
sense me
but don't touch
I am poisonous!!!

AM I GETTING MAD???

I can't breath
the air is green;
am i walking on a dream world?
or is it poison???

AM I DAYDREAMING??? or, ????

An evening
when Phoenix burns...
fire and fire
everywhere...
but don't scare;
look at it
Find a new life...

PERFECT ENDING...IS IT???

(***i was writing it last night..but i myself don't know why did i write this one ...itz pathetic... but still i'm gonna publish it...on SFTH...***)

TO LOVE : the journey of the human psyche from the Orange of Dreams to the Brown of Soil

2006-08-27T12:39:00.000+05:30

( nabanita has said she's not going to accept a 'thank you' under any circumstances... it's only because of her that i exist in blue in this blog... a pity that is, i can't say a 'thank you'! : ) ..but, never mind.)

1. A Few Confessions: the preface...

To cut it short, I am very sorry to state, that this is going to be a long post. This is not a story. Neither is this a poem... I give you the liberty to term it what you may. I am going to call this a "Scientific Research Paper presented on Love" ...to be published in the journal 'Straight from the Heart'.

I don't expect you to read this... I only hope. And there are some reasons why I am publishing this in this blog and not in my personal space that nabanita had so lovingly created for me... I would be dividing my post in five to six sections, which I look to publish periodically. I hope to complete within one month.

Any replies or sequels would be lovingly accepted, ..as they always are.., but only after all the five or six sections get published. But I do wonder,.. as I always do,.. that whether you would be doing something correct to reply to a post that would be utterly boring and full of tall talk!

2. Quantifying Love : the introduction...

Is it possible to quantify Love? ...And as it seems that it's tough to find an answer, let us face a less difficult question. Is it at all necessary to try to quantify Love? If Love gets quantified ever, doesn't it seem that the emotions would lose their colours, ...their essence? Wouldn't they be stripped naked ..if they get dissected under a scientific point of view?

May be: yes! But only a 'may be'! Instead, it may so happen that some of our long asked questions get answered... that we are relieved... that we don't need to lock ourselves in the unexplained, suffocating environment anymore. We may feel the light, coming out of the all-pervading dampness. ...And yes. Some of us are still suffocating... and that we are in need of some fresh air is not a lie. I try my best to provide you with an explanation. This paper comes after the long seven-year toil that I had, ..fighting continually my own psyche. And if the inferences here are derived wrong, I have no other option to suspect my sanity. Do let me know if I am sane...

Life is a mathematical function of the binary variables called Decisions. Thay take up two values. Yes and no.
And decisions in life should be taken both by the Head and the Heart.
...But sometimes we forget that Relationships are lived in the grey area between the heart and the head!

Section 1. ...from the land of Utopia : ...the heart sings a song!

"Everynight in my dreams
I see you.
I feel you."
And when I wake up to greet
Every new dawn,
I see colours...

I see you.

They say I am in love.
I don't know what I am in.
I only know
I am in You.

Twenty four hours
Flow through me,
Making your touch felt
Every moment.

I work, I eat.
I sleep, I live.
But only for the sake of it
Is it?

Life.
Its Givings and Takings.
What for?

Do I gain when it gives me something?,
Tell me,
When you are here in my arms...?
...Or do I lose something?,
When everything else is taken away from me?

It's this stupid world
Which runs on...
Questioning my sanity.

But, you know,
I laugh at them too.
Silently and imperceptively.

I feel for them...
They don't know what they miss...

Though the intensity varies from person to person, the basic principle of surrender in Love remains the same for everybody. But, yeah! A nice poem! But does these feelings get transformed to reality? Is this poem practical?

Answer me. Does your love come to you? No: 80%; Yes: 20%.
If he/she comes to you, do you remain together forever? No: 90%; Yes: 10%.
If you remain together till death, do you, at every moment, get the flavour you had dreamt of ? No: >99%; Yes: ?

What do we remain with? Maybe a handful, if at all... And why is the percentage such scary?

I had told you before that relationships are lived in the grey areas between our head and our heart...

(to be continued...)

Inactivity Warning !

2006-08-26T09:09:00.000+05:30

Some members are inactive for months and never even dropped a comment. With regret, I'm announcing that they would be removed from SFTH within 1 week's notice.

The concerned members are : lioness, Prithwish Mukherjee, sohinisircar, Anshumali, Prasun, Agarwal.

I will not deliberately email them. It is their responsibility to check out this site from time to time.

.

2006-08-25T21:09:00.000+05:30

This looks more like a dear old dream which I cant give up so easily. Do not leave alone , the ignorant faces around a thousand glimpses.The eyes that spoke nothing , leave alone the music in the air.

Aching eyes and midnight strikes as I think again.I lose some senses, a flute plays long across the river.Nightly ghosts grab me and try to kill me. I fight , I lose , I fight again and I go on.

A fire burns deep down the lane , some unknown hands warm themselves.You might burn , I say to them . They look back and say , you might die.

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

2006-08-19T18:49:00.000+05:30

kobitar chondo ta melate na mere toke dilam dak ,
ure giye bollo pakhi ta
mitthe tor ei bhajal ...hridoy,
bhanga kache e paa re ..katlam hath ...
dekhlam rokter moddhe koto ta beche thakar moshla aache ! ...

On Our Love

2006-08-18T00:24:00.000+05:30

A very pathetic sequel to the astoundingly beautiful poem "On a Moonbeam" by akaash. Hope he is not angry... And I hope I do not dash the hopes which my friend Vivek has heaped on me.

A desert run.

The radiant sun.

And I return again.

To these crowded golden sands.

Crowded with the memories of yore,

When we were together and sadness was no more.

The blue day sky,

Carries trillions of twinkling stars,

Sends me your message

But are blinded by the rays of sun from far.

It reminds me of your promise.

The sun is harsh – it scowls at me,

And it spreads its mellow to wake everyone up to see

The truth which is hidden in thee.

I wait...

Yet again...

“You fool, you have come again?”

Time remonstrates.

“The last time I met you under the purple light,

And the absent moon – you hallucinated...

You thought your dead love had come back – you insane!”

I say,

“She is not dead!

And she asks me to not to shed tears…

She asks me to not to be sad!”

“She will come from there – the stars,

From far far away

And the moonbeam would show her the light

Nonetheless, I daresay.”

“Ha!”

He laughs...

“All those relativity and rule bending are passé

Just figments of your imagination

Never is she gonna come to you

From sufferance and indignation...”

I wait.

And He laughs on.

“Look there! – Here she comes at last!”

Dressed in eternal white

She approaches,

An ethereal sight!

The sun gets dim.

The sand gets cooler.

Water arises from the desert for a thirsty dweller.

It’s your touch that I feel again.

It’s your scent that I inhale again.

He cries, “How can it happen?”

“This must be a dream!”

My heart races,

For that moment it seems

Is being packed away in tiny little cases.

And scattered.

To be assimilated again.

I can’t hear Him anymore,

Whilst she shows me the door.

Fulfilled at last,

Be it moon or sun it doesn’t matter anymore.

We are One again.

There will be no parting this time,

No promises would be forged to reunite again,

For the tears needn’t run anymore,

And no need will be for the Wish Fairies of the Holy Sycamore.

“If only you knew

How to wish…”

I tell Him.

“If only you knew

How to dream…

How to hope,

How to believe…

If only you knew

How to resurrect the grays of Reality,

With pure, innocent faith…”

“It is through my end that I start again

That I meet with my lover

And never depart in the rain.”

“Thou hast killed yourself for Love?”

“Is it really worth dying for?”

Says Time, now on His knees.

The echo of my answer lingers,

“You can’t fix a price on Love, after all...

Ain’t it?”

If only you had a moonbeam for these.

Independence

2006-08-16T10:04:00.000+05:30

Independence. Surprisingly, the word in itself carries a strange paradox. Independence is a positive concept and a very powerful one. Yet the word is grammatically negative and it has its meaning only by negating ‘dependence’ ! That means it is utterly dependent itself !

Here lies the catch. As a general rule of Nature, dependence is more fundamental than it’s opposite. That explains its prevalence and dominance over the other. We are all born and created to be dependent. We ‘fight’ for freedom. But we depend for our own ease and comfort. No preparation is required if we want to take help from somebody, but analogically to make ourselves self-sufficient and complete (though I believe no-one can be entirely complete in himself) it requires a lot of planning and hard work.

We don’t realize that we’re dependent until and unless something hits bluntly in our face and rudely refuses to comply with our wishes. For example, people go to work to earn a living. But they have personal hobbies and passions too. Who the heck wants to go to work everyday? If given the choice and the proper resources I’d rather roam about the whole world, make friends with different kinds of people… or maybe read books on the windy beaches of a sea-side and spend the nights hearing the sounds of insects and staring at the moon… instead of going to college and reading about stuff that has no connection to our daily lives by any means.

But here also, comes Habit. Habit is a characteristic of all living beings that makes them dependent unknowingly on itself. In fact, habit is the most responsible factor that makes us go in a straight, pre-determined, methodical and ordered line. As it has become our habit to earn for a living and be occupied with something, that after maybe a couple to months of vacation we want to get back to where we were, no matter how monotonous and painful it was. We would forget all about freedom and voluntarily want to be in the cage again!

But again, as all students of physics might know (Second Law of Thermodynamics), to nature Chaos is more fundamental than order.

Hence, as we see, this is one of the greatest examples of how the nature maintains its balance with the help of the opposites. On one hand it wants to be chaotic, but at the same time it remains ordered by becoming dependent on its instincts and also on the surrounding influences. Yin & Yang !

Just as light has no meaning without darkness, just as a woman finds her completeness in the company of a man, just as a vacation finds its meaning after a long period of pre-occupation and hard work; similarly independence is here only because there was dependence once upon a time. The phase of dependence is equally significant. Not only it has helped us to thrive but it has pointed out what could have been better, where the holes in the cloth are, where we actually stand.

I do not see independence just as freedom from a habit or a superior power, but I see it as a realization, a motivation, a cause that brings integrity among the diversified elements. But at the same time I also do not look down upon the earlier phase of dependence. It is the cause that brings the awareness, it is the foundation where the structure stands, it has taught us to dream. It is the other half of nature’s Divine Cycle.

Let us not be ashamed that we were dependent once, but let us be grateful that it gave us enough reasons to not to be.

Ekphota Bristi

2006-08-13T23:56:00.000+05:30

On a Moonbeam : By akaash

2006-08-10T20:22:00.000+05:30

A lagoon.
The full moon.
And I return again.
To these desolate silver sands…

The purple night sky,
Carrying trillions of twinkling stars,
Sends me your message;
…Reminds me of your promise!

You said you would come again…

The moon smiles at me,
And the violet of the night spreads…
As every night bird is sent to sleep
In their wooden dens!

I wait…

“How come you are not sad?”
Time asks me.
“She is dead! Right?”

“She is right here in my heart”,
I say.
“She is not dead!
And she asks me to not to shed tears…
She asks me to not to be sad!”

“How would she come?”
Time asks again
Pointing to the stars,
“That’s a long distance!”

“The moonlight shows her the way every fortnight”,
I cry.

“She can’t!”
Time is outraged.
“It’s my law!”

“We don’t follow your law”,
I say.
“We know how to stretch the limits…

Reality is relative too,
For those who Believe.

Look! She has come.”

Time stops.
There is a hush.
Nature draws back a few scared steps,
As the laws of Reality are rewritten again
...On these moonlit sands.

In the magical lights and shadows of the moon,
Isn’t that you?
…Dressed in the gorgeous black,
Surging my blood within?
…Your magnanimous appeal
Mocking Time,
Ever as before!

It’s your touch that I feel again.
It’s your scent that I inhale again.

We make love again.
And we are rendered Complete once more…

…As the fey Moon night watches
To keep mortals away,
We become One.

My heart beats slower,
As the thousand pieces of my Soul lie scattered
On the beach sands.
I lie lifeless…

The wind grows…

It’s the fairytale that your eyes had made me see.
Promise me, Dear,
To never to take it away…

For hours,
We sit, we talk and we love.
…It’s the wish of our tryst.

…Our wish,

…That gets fulfilled every Full Moon!

And at dawn,
As the first ray of the mild morning sun
Starts to dissipate the Night’s
Black Mystery,
We part once more…
With the promise to reunite again
Beside these transparent waters,
Whose tears carry the smile of the Moon
Every fortnight.

“It’s your Imagination, honey!”
Time spouts.

“It’s only my Wish that had come true!”
I naively sob…
“The fairies aren’t dead!”

“If only you knew
How to wish…”
I tell Him.
“If only you knew
How to dream…

How to hope,
How to believe…

If only you knew
How to resurrect the grays of Reality,
With pure, innocent faith…”

Echoes the remnants of the Night:
“If only you had a moonbeam…”

Once Again......

2006-08-09T00:49:00.000+05:30

Once again......
The flowers are blossoming
With the drop of dew......
Captured some moments in the frame
Though they are very few...
Suddenly a thought comes to my mind
Again!!!!!
I am thinking about you......

Once Again......
The sun is shining
In my mind...
I remember the day
When I wanted to become
a blind...
Coz I couldn't find myself
in your mind...
Those moments are few
And today again
I am thinking about you......

Once Again......
I am seeing the moon
I am not dreaming
Coz, I can see you
whenever I want to...
you are alwyz in my mind...
I am thinking about you......

Oneday......
My life will come to an end
Life completes itz journey
with pain and sorrow...
But I'll be happy
because
I'll think about you......

(*****may be some of my friend can object on the subject...but i writ whatever i want.....thanx for all of urs concerns...but u can't write forcefully..it just happens....so....******)

a Thought in a night !

2006-08-07T16:05:00.000+05:30

In a candle lit night ..
We sat across a river

We looked at each other
In those eyes , a river flowed

As the night went along the way
We went along a different way

It is the cause.

It is the cause, my soul.

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars.

It is the cause.

The cause is known to you and me
Yet we played different games

The eyes that twinkled
The freckled skin took turns

Do we need to continue ?
Will you answer me ?

The answer is an emphatic NO
Hypnotized by your fiery beauty

I burnt , I burnt in peace
I did not Rest , yet I was at piece.

So long, love ,
The path is shown
It is up to you to see it and cross the river.

The picture is not taken by me.
And quotations courtesy Shakespeare

SAND AND STONE

2006-08-05T13:53:00.000+05:30

Two friends were walking through the desert. In a specific point of the
journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in
the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but...without saying
anything, wrote in the sand:

TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to
take a bath. The one who got slapped and hurt started drowning, and the
other friend saved him. When he recovered from the fright, he wrote on a
stone:

TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE.

The friend who saved and slapped his best friend, asked him "Why, after
I hurt you, did you write in the sand, and now you write on a stone?"

The other friend, smiling, replied, "When a friend hurts us, we should
write it down in the sand, where the winds of forgiveness get in charge
of erasing it away, and when something great happens, we should engrave
it in the stone of the memory of the heart, where no wind can erase it."

Learn to write in the sand.

"For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father
will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your
Father will not forgive your sins." Matthew 6:14-15

PRAYER
Gracious and forgiving God, help us this day to become more like you in
our ability to forgive and forget. Amen.

*** **i was surfing somesite..& suddenly saw this article from some unknown author..liked it....so i modify something...& thought to share with u..hop u all will like it*****

The Vision

2006-08-03T23:51:00.001+05:30

When walking past those places-
where once dwelled :
a dream, a hope
a vision of a new meaning of life,
where once we held
our trembling hands and our hearts...
I do not let my tears go,
instead there comes a fire
which surges within...
it vaporises every drop of tear,
and creates a mocking image
out of the flame,
that laughs at my foolishness
and makes faces to me;
faces... familiar once
but now distorted, corrugated, ugly
or even lost in the fogs of oblivion.

yet something happens
at the back of my head
at the bottom of my heart
which makes everything seem
so dull, so empty, so meaningless
the colors hidden by the black of the canvas
tries to peep out,
to creep into my dreams
and make them nightmares
of disgust, of writhing pain.

and again
at the next moment
the blemished canvas gets burnt
by The Fire
and instead of scorching it,
it erases it...
it makes the way for a new beginning.

but, what is the use of beginning at all?
if it is all destined to end?
why make trouble to build a sand-castle
in the banks of the atlantic ocean
of desires, pain, expectations and ego?

but we have only one thing
that defies logic, defies rationality,
yet, gives strength and urges to move on...
it is Hope.

hope is the only dead-end
of the side-lanes of life,
called Failures.
some people tend to stay
in those suffocating dark and tempting lanes
and lose sight of the main road: Life;
which goes on and on and on...

if there haven't been the high walls of hope,
maybe some people wud've tried to jump over it
but instead making an premature exit from the Journey.

it is hope that makes us get back
to stroll on
and maybe this's the best way
to live life.

i wanted to live
to smell the roses
to cross the barriers
and extend the boundaries...
i did not care for the customs, the conventions;
i wud've crushed everything in my way;
but,
the only thing i needed was
A shoulder--
or maybe a warm hand to grasp
my cold trembling limbs in the blizzard...
or maybe a bosom to rest
my tired, fractured and bleeding body.

instead,
i was betrayed... used,
i was exploited... ravaged;
and helplessly, unnoticingly
left on the side-lane to perish.

i did get up
to face the sunlight again
to stitch my faults and with a new vision :

we are always alone,
the friendships, the relationships
the excitement of an outing with the sweetheart;
a lovely evening with friends,
are all futile, unreal and volatile.
everything is so fragile in the cyclone of time
that its useless to waste your energy, emotions
and yes, money
on these temporary bursts of hormones.

time spares no one,
not even the blemishless one.
all fall prey to the Time's hunger...
no matter how hard you try to be safe--
to carry a clean dress amidst the pouring rain,
all of a sudden a car rushing from the otherside
will spray you with mud and dirt.

dont take life too seriously.
let it flow like a river;
and you can float on it like a dry leaf...
unattached, and yet going with the flow.
who knows what will happen tomorrow,
so live for the present,
live life kingsize,
without any repentance
without any commitment
without the pain in the ass
commonly cliched as 'Love'.

Love – ‘Green’ed : by Akaash

2006-07-29T21:00:00.000+05:30

Our boat gradually floated through the narrow strip of blue water, that had lush green sloping banks on its either sides.

The tree-leaves above were moist with the drizzle that had just stopped and, forming a canopy over our heads, they made drops of water grow at their tips time and again which, coming through the moist and cold air thenafter, fell on the water body with a few ‘plop’s.

Our boat had almost stopped, and the small fishes peeped their heads out of the stream water, getting curious to see who had come in the long uninhabited land of theirs!

We left the boat and stalked to a tree side that had green bushes all around it, ..having lustrous leaves, yellow flowers and white butterflies.

We sat down on the wet grass and as we did, the trees above our heads dropped a few scarlet petals on our laps...

It was a peaceful afternoon and the clouds covered the sun, generating a quiet mood of understanding among all the nature elements, which sang different chords of silence in a harmony.

I plucked two grass blades from earth’s bosom and, knitting them together in a butterfly form, presented the pair to her. Her eyes desperately tried to hide the vulnerable thrill that they had in them, and turned to the distant greens.

A squirrel appeared and looked at us with curious eyes, and perhaps after realizing that we were no more than two living things, who called themselves ‘natural’, decided to bring us two nuts.

Next the rabbits came. And they grew very happy to receive those nuts from her.

A small bird suddenly stopped its flight to sit down on one of the bushes, and sang us a song then.

“They are repeating themselves!”, I exclaimed.

“Yes”, she said, “perhaps only to ask us to look at them in a different way.”

I remembered the last time we came here.

We had had a fight and though it was a small one, it took its toll on us.

We never managed to be good to each other.

The boat had jammed itself in the pond weeds and irritating water drops continually fell on our heads. We picked a spot and sat down. A few annoying moths skipped and hopped through the heavy air, disturbing the peace of the atmosphere very much. The sun was out. The grass was damp. And everything was bleak.

A squirrel had rushed over my legs and had left a few nuts on its way, at which a few rabbits looked at, with blank eyes, as they silently and carefully peeped from the greenish bushes.

…They never came to us as we were too busy thinking how to please each other. They were afraid of our Unnaturality.

The bird too flew away stopping its song midway, as if suddenly realising that it would be futile to sing to two people, who failed to understand each other, a pure song of nature that was otherwise so intangible!

…and finally, when we had got up that day, we found the scarlet petals lying withered on the ground, crushed under our own weight!

We were looking at the same direction now.

And I broke the law first and looked at her.

Her face had a strange peace bestowed upon it, and her dreamy eyes were looking at the distant greens with complete concentration.

The wisps of her hair were moistened by the still, wet air and her posture was lazy.

She turned towards me and smiled.

I smiled and dropped my eyes and said nothing.

And then she whispered to me three words.

“Green has shades!”

I cheerfully nodded.

Indeed, … green Had shades.

Every colour had shades.

Light and deep; bright and dark. And the world around us had the same shades too.

We only had to pick the right ones.

Male Friend

2006-07-28T01:01:00.000+05:30

To you.
You who are a stranger.
You who I must accept.
You who I must forgive.

We were fellow ponderers.
Wondering why the night's
Gorgeous, black hair,
Its virility, its feminity,
Never showed signs of decripitude.
An infinite sex appeal she has.
Eternal.
The two of us try
To apostrophise the night.
To confer on it our names.
To spend a night with the sea
Fondle her breasts
Make love to her
And come out alive.
(Not at the same time,
I'm afraid I don't know too many moves!
My sexual-gaucheness is not out for display!)

We were beginning to have our hair
Done badly. The comb hurts.
We have lost wieght; and yet we are fat.
But we've 20 fingers and 20 toes.
Two minds.

Why don't we talk to each other often?
I don't know.
May be it is to attach
A savage innocence
A fortunate intensity
A primordial depth
To our rarities.

Oh how expensive are things?
We'll buy them won't we?

2006-07-27T23:25:00.000+05:30

Love spoke again
The dewdy romantic nights are alive again
Blast from the past
Where to you take me ?

The shivering night
A sense of Deja Vu down the line
Drops of rain twinkled down the sky
The sparkle in your eyes

Finding nothing amidst everything
Magic with words ?
Or shear nonsense ..
La la ...la laa laa..

Singing the new tune ..
The song you taught me dear
Give a piece of cloth
I need to wipe your face

A kiss on your forehead
There is a loop in my head
A infinte one which leads only to you

Come on dear
Cant I see it again in your eyes ?
A life to kiss
A life to be close

I stepped on a thorn
Did it bleed ?
Not enough blood to shear the soil
It was already stained in curses

The connection went off
Hanged tradegy seemed meaningless
In a meaning to nothing
I made this all up.

For My Angel

2006-07-27T19:07:00.000+05:30

Its been days
days i have lost count of
when it was all over
when we ended it all

But here I am
Waiting
Waiting since forever
to hear your voice

Only one word
Just a 'hello'
Or the sound of your laughter
Just once

I pretended that I didnt care
when you called
Wanted you to beleive
that I didnt give a damn

But here i am
Waiting

The truth is
I love you
Love you since forever
Longing to see you
Counting against time
when I'm thinking of you

Never really wanted to hurt you
Just wanted to be a bit macho
Didnt know you were so much a part of me
Never imagined I would miss you so

And here i am
Waiting

The loneliness kills me
The world is cold and desolate
I feel alone
in the company of a million

Love you baby
From the bottom of my heart
Hoping you would return the love
Someday

I want you angel
Want you in my life
want to hear your voice
to see you smile

I will wait for you angel
will wait for you
even after the soul
leaves this forlorn body of mine...

----

PS: Ok, i know its a cliched feeling to write about, but still, comments please!

What a Crazy Grapic Designer Can do...

2006-07-27T16:59:00.000+05:30

The first pic is the ACTUAL one........the rest are the result of his hardwork!!

FOREVER IT WONT LAST....

2006-07-23T23:45:00.000+05:30

Forever it wont last....
Have u ever realized,
that u missed so much in life.
Do u live just to live,
just to be called alive..??

Have u ever forgotton
and let a great friendship die,
just coz u dint had time
and u forgot to say hi..

Do u realize,
u are heading so fast.
This one life u have
forever wont last..
Ever felt the drops,
the rain slapping the ground
Ever bothered to touch
and gather the moments around..??

Ever noticed the feel
on that innocent face,
all they want is a part of ur time
but u are hurried to win the race.

You often dance on the muzic,
the one playing somewhere behind,
Have u ever heard the voice,
calling u from ur inner side.

Slow down a bit,
and shower ur love to all.
Dont run so fast,
This one life u have
forever wont last....

Love Murders

2006-07-23T21:09:00.000+05:30

Firstly I would like to make some things clear. The poem below is a reply to the poem “Murder of Love” written by Vivek. It seems that I have an inherent obsessive compulsive disorder to write poems (which, truly said, is actually, rubbish prose) in reply. Please forgive my futile attempt as just what it is. I don’t mean any disrespect to Vivek or to the poem he wrote. And the funny thing is that, he seems to like this, don't know why.

Love Murders

The birds are returning to their nests –

So are the men to the concrete boxes.

The sky is holding back -

Not the rays of the sun,

But the darkness

Of the urging rising moon.

Both are the same.

Black and white.

End is near.

Its just reflection, ain’t it?

O feel! The mourning breeze blows.

They say its silent.

It just wants to be heard.

Once.

She clasps her hands onto mine,

It feels cold now.

The search is futile – nothing in her eyes can I see anymore.

Not even myself.

In the deep dark abyss of her hypnotic eyes

I drown

In the water of my own tears.

No.

None sees them.

Its all deceit I get in return.

Its open now.

No secret left unknown,

No stone left unturned.

I can feel f***ing nothing.

Yes.

Those twins are beautiful.

Like the black holes which people say exist.

They exist there,

In her eyes.

The ocean I once saw is dry now.

The salt is left.

It rubs my wounds.

Up and down.

Where is that She which was?

Not in those lustrous blade-edged eyes.

Not in the saccharine poisoned words.

No.

She is not even in the false peace of her innocent face.

Alas!

My hopes are too high.

She possessed my soul.

Consumed me in totality.

But then she left.

Threw me away like those roadside flowers when they get stale.

Ensured the end of my life.

Content I should be with what I got –

A grimace, an abuse.

A dollop of hate.

No one belongs to us.

Neither do we to someone.

Not food are we,

Neither are we ornaments.

We are just the mud that with the lotuses blend.

Through days and nights,

Through eternal sorrow,

Through death alone,

We wither.

In secret.

But put up dirty worn masks to hide the rotting within.

Countless times we run about in the Karmic Cycle.

Only to find ourselves at the same place - again.

With the knife of desires,

We are cut.

Piece by piece.

We thought we were all here to love.

Sufferance is all what we got in return.

It is long we have fallen in love.

Now let us

Rise.

Rise from the waters that intend to strangle us

And drench us in love.

Its all false.

There is no Fountain of Hope in the places you seek.

Pierce our souls with the prongs of sin.

And let us live.

Even it be through death.

If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t love.

An Eccentric Night

2006-07-23T15:40:00.000+05:30

I’m looking for tremors in that note you play.
Play that for me, will you?
The travel
From one note to the other…
What are you playing?
Slower, please.

You said you’d wear green.
Here you are
In garish blue.
What clothes! Haha.

I told you not to
Cut your hair!

Such speed!
Schubert wouldn’t like it that fast.
You must be moonstruck!

What are these! Haha.
Brown goggles!
You’re wearing a lipstick!
Extra wisps on your hair.
Ear rings!
Bah. You must be moonstruck. Haha.

And how come you aren’t saying anything!

Must this gentleman with crown grays and premature balding,
Announce over this inestimably happy occasion,
The magnum opus of his beautiful bride,
That he wishes to dine with her
After her concert finds its closure
Soon, so his eternal love
May conjure up a modest
Picture of eternity?
What now? Haha.

You are stuck to the window.
Moonstruck.
Stop biting those bars, will you?
Here, come over.
Let’s eat.

Cheers to our obscure humor.Haha.
There is much to love.
We’ll go over to the balcony
After we’ve had our food.
It’s raining.
We love the rains.

*Readers, kindly drop off comments on this. I've tried something new. Even good/bad/other single word-comments will do. Thanks!*

the slave

2006-07-22T16:52:00.001+05:30

You came in,
Came into my life
You came in
And made me fall

You changed my world
You gave me love
You made me believe
Made me lose myself

The world was bright
With pink days
And velvet nights
Life was too good to be real

I was too lost
Too lost to think
I wanted to believe
I was blind

The days passed
You made me doubt
You showed me your truth
And left me cold
Cold as ice

The reasons you gave me were right
But I couldn't believe you
I couldn't see the truth
I couldn't trust you

I was torn
picking up the pieces
I was drowning
In fumes and smoke

Nights were my shelter
Days were hell
The rain hid my tears
the shadows my wails

I survived
On smoke
Nectar

Now you are back
And I once again am your slave

I am falling again
You take away my nectar
Take away the smoke
Reveal me again
Lift the shadows

Who are you
You who make me lose to myself
You who bring me close
And then leave me to the cold again
And again

But I still do
Still love you
The slave that I am

2006-07-22T16:25:00.000+05:30

A 3d Model of my home ..created in Google SketchUp !

I'm Back!

2006-07-21T19:53:00.000+05:30

Well it's nice to be back after such along time!i had been busy all these days preparing for my PartI exams.Its still continuing ,would continue for a long time and i may not get another time to log in.So once I got a gap in between my exams I ran down to the nearby cafe,without paying any heed to my mom's warnings!I mean C'mon Yaar I had been without computer for nearly 2months!and right now my hands were really itching but now its fine,after I got the balm i.e of touching the keypads atleast!!!!!

Anyways lots of nonsense been said!But these the Pge 1 of the newspapers had been full with news on terrorist or capitalist attacks!I don't want to comment on anything else,coz our Government doesn't allow us to speak or rebel about any issues.....just want to say 1thing...all these people who are killing innocent people along with children maybe whatever ,but they cannot be human atall!No cause can be justified in the brutal cold blooded murder of innocent people!Religion doesn't ask one to kill one another,it asks one to spread the essence of brotherhood.But many people are getting provoked by some Stupid Know-alls who claim that they know everything about religion!The tragedy is that they never fight themselves,but poeple working for them die for some wrong cause...they just sit and watch the "Tamasha"!

I really do hope that Oneday all these inhuman people will get their punishments...oneday there will prevail peace everywhere...no fight for the sake of power.....money.As it's said that "with Power comes Responsibility"i do hope that these countries who claim themselves to be all powerful and the "guardian" of goodwill do understand that and act accordingly!As it's said,"There's no bad peace or good war"!
"Om Shanti,Shanti,Shanti"

Murder of Love

2006-07-15T01:41:00.000+05:30

The birds are returning to their nests --

The sky is still holding back

Desparately to the last rays

Of the reluctant, setting sun.

The woods has been gripped

By the misty darkness of the creeping dusk.

A sudden shiver makes the presence felt

Of a breeze which blows silently,

Worn by the blues of the parting day.

Her hands clasped into mine,

Intently I am drinking of her eyes,

Searching for her,

Wondering where she is –

Where I shall find

The source of eternal happiness

That is hidden in her.

Like the infinite secrets of the universe

Trembling in the distant stars of the clear sky,

I can feel the existence

Of the secret of her soul

That is behind the dark depths

Of her illusory beautiful eyes.

Gazing into them,

My self is immersed, lost

Into the fathomless ocean of her being…

Where is She?

Within her lustrous eyes?

Behind her dazzling yet shy smiles?

Or in the sweet stream of her words…

Or maybe beneath the benign peace

That pervades her innocent face.

Alas, my hopes too high!

How rash the desire

To possess her soul,

To consume her totality

In the cramped corners

Of my crowded, clouded brain…

‘Tis like picking up

A beautiful flower on the roadside,

And ensuring the end of its life.

Content I should be with what I get :

A smile, a word –

A glance, a hint of love.

No one belongs to us.

Human beings are not for food

For humane hunger, earthly desires !

They are not ornaments to wear,

To show off !

They are lotuses that bloom

For the world and its Lord—

Assiduously and secretly.

Through days and night,

Through joy and sorrow

Prosperity and Adversity

Through Life and Death

And countless cycles of seasons

They Bloom…

To be enjoyed for their scent,

And beauty and sweetness,

Or even its mere existence !

But they are not to be cut

With the knife of desires,

And expectations.

We are all here to love,

And be strong in love,

But not possess our beloved,

Not to engulf her.

Let us appreciate her presence

Enjoy every bit of it,

Without making her suffer her

For the cause of our pleasure.

‘Tis long we’ve fallen in love.

Now let us

Rise.

Let the sacred rays of love

Drench us

Not in the mire of desires,

But in the fountain of hope, of humility,

Of Life.

-----------------

Acknowledgement : Rabindranath Tagore.

(this post maybe deleted in future for re-editting and other modifications)

Too De-tailed

2006-07-04T14:45:00.000+05:30

Too detailed a picture (quality and dimension reduced). Maybe greyscale/sepia would have been better to subdue the unneeded details. But as I don't like doing digital edits, i scrapped the idea. I shud have used a red (hot) chroma filter and put the camera to "Sepia" mode!

Person in pic "Archan RoyChowdhury" (6'3" 104kgs) -- nice person!

http://www.shamasis.net/blog/

The Blue of Love : by akaash

2006-07-01T10:23:00.000+05:30

It was raining.
The drops were continuously drumming down on the tin roof.
There were others in that small, compacted room, that was full of wooden furniture. And everybody was quiet.

It was a roadside shop, near the bus stand, that sold and made cupboards, tables, chairs and likewise wooden accessories. It rained and everybody had rushed in to get a shelter .
I had gone in as well, but why I failed to remember.
Maybe to get a shelter, ... yes, but more because others were going in, and I merely followed them, … to avoid any unwanted public attention.

I tried to be one of them, …

The air in the room was filled with a strong scent of freshly wetted wood and men worked inside, … as they chiseled and hammered quietly … and tried to fit parts into one another.
I stood at the doorstep along with the others, and watched the growing rain, … that started as a few lazy drops and went on to be a downpour.

I was wet. I somehow forgot to open the umbrella I carried.

I watched the buses through the misty drops, as they took passengers from each stop and dropped them at others. That was what they were supposed to do. To take some and to leave some and to continue.

The picture was hazy. … as I tried to remember the Cause.

I had loved her. She had loved me. … And then something happened … that I don’t exactly remember, and neither do I want to. Even, I had forgotten whether I understood what had happened. What got to me was that we could no longer remain together.
As I remember, my first reaction was disbelief.
But then I saw her crying.
As I saw those tears rolling continually down her pale cheeks, … the cheeks whose Colour, I had once promised to myself, to protect, … I felt helpless. I felt I was not a man.

I felt it was Unfair, that Destiny decided to attack from the rear, never giving me a fair chance to get armed for this battle.

I felt like going to her, and taking her in my arms, … making her head rest on my chest, making her tears wet my body, soul, … making her forget every damn fear in this world, … kissing her tender lips, … saying that it was all a farce.

But I had failed to move.
I trembled inside with an unexplainable fear, … as waters flushed out from my eyes. I tried to take a step towards her wanting to show that I had Not turned weak, and she could depend on me, … that we would be finding some way out, …that we would never part.

But the way she had accepted the ‘truth’, … it seemed, … that this would only be a false consolation, … and it was as if she knew this .
… And she taught me this, that you don’t look to fight fate, as it was impossible.

I never listened to this, I didn’t believe that fate couldn’t be changed.
I still had enough willpower, but I knew, … the Only thing that I would ever fail to fight was her Tears, that glistened with truth.

We sat in silence.
For an hour, … maybe. … I don’t exactly remember.

And then she got up.
… and came to me.

Her tears had dried up, though their creases could still be made out on her cheeks.

She looked at me and smiled.
I trembled inside, I wept inside, but something in her smile made me stand up with a belief that a miracle must have happened.

I looked at her with a blank, helpless stare. I could not speak.

She held my face in her two little hands and looked into my eyes.
I once again felt the warmth of her body.

… and then, … we forgot everything, … and Kissed .

We knew that it was the Last One we would ever have.
But it seemed like the Ultimate One.

… it seemed to be the answer to all my questions.
… and it seemed to be the Answer to All the Questions in this world.
We drank and ended each others’ infinite pain.
We reassured each other that Nothing had actually happened, …that No Universal Laws could separate us; … irrespective of what this world thought, … irrespective of what Laws Of Humanity or Conventions said, … irrespective of whether we would meet again, …
… we would remain each others’ forever.

… and then, with closed eyes, and with the essence of the other in our souls, we separated.

Tears were still rolling down from my eyes.
But the rain had stopped.
And the Sun shone brightly.

It was a new beginning.
… not for Me, but for the person inside me, … as I remembered happily that I had successfully ‘left’ Myself to her, … and that I would be Safe in her Heart,
.. forever.

I now smiled the same smile that she had once baffled me with.

and I stepped out of the furniture shop and decided to walk …

On Love

2006-06-30T11:58:00.000+05:30

This is a post by Akaash in reply of The Nameless One's post "The Paradox that is Love".

Due to some blogger account difficulties, on his request I publish this post in a form of ebook. I hope you do download and read it. He will be most eagerly waiting for your comments.

Thank you.

Read the ebook.

Makes you think... Isn't it?

2006-06-30T00:15:00.000+05:30

www.shamasis.net

The Eye

2006-06-29T23:41:00.000+05:30

Sighs swarm in;
Some muffled, some expressed.
So do unheard silences.
The eye came…
Bathed in blood and fluids.
Two whacks on its butt.
Swathed in ignorance,
A legacy of some unknown beauty.

Oh how he is instructed!
A pencil sketch
Of a battle scene.
Blood white, sweat triangular,
Almost invisible
To the infant eye.
As if war was the only living entity.
Life was a background.
Like some black blob
On a clean paper.
Throwing the paper
Into an abyss of unimportance.

Oh how it is instructed!
A bottomless well
Ornate with algal habitation
And framed pencil sketches.
Green silhouetted over red bricks…
So ostentatiously new
As if it was made
After the eye was born!
And yet, the ambience
Old…
As if the well espoused the eye
In his previous birth.

And the instructions echo…
The eye must learn
To see, retain
And do nothing more.

Other things would pose
A risk.
Of vulnerability,
Of adrenaline,
Of probable randomness,
Of its probable incompetence,
Of other eyes,
Of a random life.
But how could the eye know?
Would a cardinal rule not be broken?

One day, cynicism will die.
It will.
There, throw your passionate glance
On the sky.
You don’t need a listener.
The sky is sufficiently beautiful.

…

When he grew older,
I don’t quite remember when,
He looked at himself
In a pool of water.
Hazel branches leaping into
Perfectly spherical expanses.
Red rivers and grey silt
Strewn around.
Black adornments.
Skin, face, body.
An invisible, beautiful mind
Basking in the glory
Of such alarmingly precious endowments,
As if it had a premonition,
And knew, perfectly, how to react.

…

If u can, and will,
Speak of all that transpired.
Speak of life all this while.
Speak of progress.
He’s grown ears.
Maybe they’ll heed.

The Bridge

2006-06-23T11:49:00.000+05:30

2006-06-21T11:50:00.000+05:30

I liked this song :

Dil Se Mere, Door Na Jaana
Dil Se Mere, Door Na Jaana
Tum Meri Zindagi
Tum Meri Ho Khushi
Dil Se Mere, Door Na Jaana...
Kyoon Hain, Ye Dooriyan
Jaane Tum Ho Kahan
Kyoon Hain, Ye Dooriyan
Jaane Tum Ho Kahan

Main To Hoon Wahan
Tum Raho Jahan
Tere Sang Main Rahoongi Sadaa
Tere Sang Main Rahoongi Sadaa

Meri Nazar Se Na Palkein Jhukana
Meri Nazar Se Na Palkein Jhukana
Tum Meri Zindagi
Tum Meri Ho Khushi...
Teri Bas Ek Nazar
Kar De Dil Pe Asar
Teri Bas Ek Nazar
Kar De Dil Pe Asar

Main To Hoon Idhar
Kyoon Ho Bekhabar
Tham Lo Tum Mujhe Humsafar
Tham Lo Tum Mujhe Humsafar

Dil Se Mere, Door Na Jaana
Dil Se Mere, Door Na Jaana
Tum Meri Zindagi
Tum Meri Ho Khushi..

An Observation

2006-06-15T16:45:00.001+05:30

the day i spotted her was a late fall afternoon,under the bright orange of the setting sun....its long slant beams filtered through the long sprawling branches of the banyan tree under which stood the shiv mandir decorated heavily with flowers that day..........her tattered clothes and dishevelled appearance looked so mismatched against the backdrop of our posh locality.....i wonder whether i would have noticed her on any other ordinary day.....but today was altogether different, there was a huge commotion surrounding her, while some welldressed ladies from some ritzy appartment screamed and shouted at the top of their voices looking like they are about to burst.....it took me sometime to analyse their gibberish speech and i could make out the problem....it was a shivaratri celebration and the ladies had offered packets of sweets for prasad...and apparently the packets have gone missing.......And now i noticed the frail little creature.....younger than me but hard to assess her age from her undernourished appearance.....her eyes quite bright stood out amongst her features...and yet she looked scared.....clutching her dress against her chest.....trying to escape with her dear life.....

i wondered whether she had actually stolen the sweets.....i also wondered whether she knew that the constitution had provided that kids her age ....my age are entitled to foursquare meals a day.......would it be right to blame her even if she had actually stolen a sweet or two out of sheer hunger..........i still wonder..........

MYSTERIOUS NUMBER

2006-06-15T15:54:00.000+05:30

A Truly Remarkable Number

step 1>Enter 999999 in your calculator

step 2>divide it by seven.

The result will be a mysterious number!

step 3> randomly pick a number from 1 to 6 and multiply the result by the mysterious number.

step 4>Arrange the digitsof the product from lowest to highest from left to right to forma six-digit number.

What is the number?

Music

2006-06-14T02:04:00.001+05:30

I
Reverie

Your maddening fragrance…
It is night now,
Warm and windy.
I’m half naked
And exhausted
From all the heat
In the mine.

But I have with me platinum.

It reminds me of you,
(It’s yours, of course.)

Oh, I am coming.

But let me remember you-
Haha. Alright, let me imagine?

You are the ambience
In my beach, deserted.
You are its pulse,
Its constant throb.
In the white powder of light
From the light house,
You lurk, flaunting your
Quasi flawless body
To the rustling of the mangroves
So short and stout, I laugh.
Jobless bitch.
(I’m laughing of course, my love)
And now are you in
The fisherman’s boat,
Rolling lazily about,
Against the rough wood
Your watery being.

I saunter now,
Here and there, round and round.
A dog barks at me at
This hour in the night.
I hum a tune
In madhuvanthi.
I try wearing
Fewer wisps on my hair,
So you’ll make some.

II
Walk

I cross the road.
I’m half-naked, sweaty
And scared. (Stop laughing)
I walk fast.

People sleep here too,
Between me and you, our havens.
On the road.
Their children naked, malnourished,
Sleeping blissfully,
The womenfolk badly clothed,
Inside makeshift tents,
The men, fast asleep,
With palms closed on their chests.

I’m scared.

I hear you…

You’re so permanent.
The same.
You, my love, are
My purpose- constancy.

I walk across the bushes.
I sweat profusely.

I’m scared of snakes.

But I can hear you…
Psychedelic rhythm…

III
Tryst

I’m here, the sands are cold…
Ah…
The wind now…
I rub my spectacles clean.

I look back.

Reddish sky, (it’s about to rain, eh?)
Black silhouettes of coconut trees,
The bushes behind.
The lighthouse.
The boats.
Nothing else.
Eh? Haha.
Everything behind me.

I’m here.
With my reverie
And a gift.
In your haven.

I breathe air so moist,
I’m mad, with my reverie,
And I can see you
Complying gracefully.
I can hear your pulse.
I stay here, still.
I need to hear you
For some more time.
I can see you.

The moon is yellow tonight,
The sky, a milky purple,
With thick, grey clouds.
I kick my slippers off…

IV
Love

Hear me breathe?
Feel my sweat?
Why must you be here?
Why must I be there, parched
All day, in the mine?

Perhaps, (I smile) dearest,
Our lore is what we run our lives on,
A fuel we love,
The only thing we love
More than ourselves.

The process, darling.
Of dreaming, being,
Feeling, thinking,
Drawing, Singing,
Reminiscing, Hankering.

Perhaps this circle
Sublimes into the link
That we seek.
You seamlessly surge and ebb,
On this shore…
And I,Toil in the mine.
We procreate platinum, love,
For ourselves.
We must, for we are.

Here, the gift.

What is it to make love to you?
I can never remember.
You brackish being
Permeate through my skin…
My hair frenzied…

We talk. For hours, endlessly.

V
Sleep

I’m exhausted.
I walk back.
A day’s pain
Enmeshed in pleasure.
I sleep a dreamless sleep.

Confused? No.

2006-06-14T00:37:00.000+05:30

I didn't have wings,
I ne'er could fly,
My life was mine then :
Not a lie.

I was never a free bird,
Already caged -
In your love,
And charm I raged.

My life was divided...
I couldn't breathe.
I didn't have it all,
Even the tear of my greed.

I want to burn you now...
With the loving burning touch,
That you gave me once
And took away again.

My heart is like a glass...
Yes.
Prone to break.
And with its shards I shall tear,
My nerve and your face.

Not the one you carry about -
But the one you left in my mind.
I will die.
Yes.
But that won't be enough.

It is also true.
My heart is not like glass.
That it would shatter,
And give you pin-pricks,
Since all I have is actually with you
Even the blood that the wounds lick.

I thought I found my dream in you...
But you proved me wrong.
Left me in the mud and blackness,
With just a song.

A song that I couldn't utter
That played like a loop...
Drived me so crazy,
That I died even without dying.

I fell in love with you once.
Atleast thats what I thought,
You left me though.
And bred in me hatred and other putrid stuff.

Yeah.
I know what you all will say.
I am a mad crazy guy.
Don't know what love is.
That real love stays always unfulfilled.
Thats what I want you to believe.

My heart is aching within...
No.
I didn't commit any sin.
Just gave you a piece of mine once,
Which you took away
And never returned.
Pierced it with voodoo thorns.
Just for having loved you.

What am I to do?
I know.
What you sow, so shall you reap.

It isn't a reply to any poem
As you might have wrongly guessed.
Its just my POV.
Yes.
Love looks quite sick from this side.

I know this is a stupid poem
And it seldom does rhyme
But this all I wanted to say.
This is what I liked.

Ain't confused anymore.
No more blind.

Reality isn't sweet.
I hate love.

Confusion of a confusing mind!!!

2006-06-10T22:39:00.000+05:30

I burned my wings
Like a Phoenix in the flame...
Unable to live
It's very life force no more brings...

If yet I have not all thy love
I shall never have it all...
I can't breathe one other to sigh
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall...

I wanna burn myself
By your loving burning touch
I do want you to know...
I'll alwayz love you...

Heart is like a glass
Prone to break...
If I should break it now
I'd still die...
Images of you in my head!!!

I found the man of my dream in you...
You are one I've searched all my life
And everyday more and more
I'm falling deeply in love with you...

My heart is aching within
Did I commit any sin?
I did no wrong
Other than simply loving you...
No notion how to handle this...
What am I to do?

A Reply

2006-06-07T12:39:00.000+05:30

Well today as I opened the account I found some comments written for my last topic "About Reservation".I want to make one thing clear to my friends that I'm against any kind of castism...nor I have any kind of enemity with the so called lower castes!If I have any problem that is regarding the way governments are run in our country(the so called "largest democracy").as I wrote in the previous post that in a democracy the government is "by the people,of the peoplle and for the people".So it's the duty of the Govt to value our thoughts and feelings.

A recent incident happened which made me disturbed again.......the recent controversies of banning films!!It would be an understatement to say the all the movie-bluffs were eagerly waiting for the release of the films-"Fanaa" and "Da Vinci Code".But suddenly our so called secular UPA Govt started raising issues about the release of "Da Vinci Code" because some christian minority groups had started protests against it.My question is that the book had been released about 2years ago...then there was no protests by those groups...when the movie was about to be released all of a sudden they started their outcry.It makes me wonder was it really for Jesus or for their own publicity?

Though "Fanaa" had no religious contents in it......still it managed a banning because the lead actor chose to spoke about rehabilitation which became a political issue.Naye it was a conscious effort to accuse the people of Gujarat!!!!!That was what it was made to be!!!So this film was banned under the support of the BJP Govt in Gujarat.......I mean how dare one speak about a political issue!!!!Its only the corrupt politicians who can dare to tread in the arena of politics....the rest of us are mere fools!!!!!!

As if we common people don't live nor own this country.......we make a Nation.....but we can't speak no evil against the political parties!Political parties through out the world look down upon "Talibanism".......but this is nothing less than that!!!!!This is the same as Fascism,Talibanism,where people lose their rights!!!!!

I'm no learned on all these topics but yes they make me troubled!As a young voter of the Nation it makes me wonder about the real state of our nation.I mean we are the future of the Nation ...if we don't pay any heed to all these things happening throughout the country ........then its better we stop calling ourselves an Indian.

With the hopes of seeing our Nation as the"Sare Jahan se accha"......................................................

Banner

2006-06-06T10:11:00.000+05:30

The Letter

2006-05-29T23:37:00.000+05:30

This is to notify that The Collage, official partner of SFTH, has completed its first complete story: The Letter. We from SFTH heartily congratulate them for their debut achievement and wish them a bright future ahead. We will look forward to them for some great stories with fabulous shows of talent.

Read The Letter

THE MEMORIES REMAIN

2006-05-27T12:56:00.000+05:30

THE MEMORIES REMAIN…- Rreena Sharma

Times have passed by
Little do we realize?
We have dumped our past
Somewhere deep inside,
But then on certain occasions
We shed those dried leaves outside,
And try to gather them
With joys and tears and loving smile.

Today the time has come
When you sit back and recall the times,
The times when we all used to be together,
Having all the fun and frolic,
Which we knew, would not be forever.

So what, today we all are not together
The times do change and so does the weather,
But one thing that will never change,
i.e., the love and warmth – which are the only treasures.
The treasures, which mean to me more than gold,
With its price untold,
Therefore can never be sold,
Only shared with few more people and
Enjoyed as the moments get unfold.

But once again the chapters of past will be closed,
Waiting for another time to reopen.

FRIENDZ FOREVER

2006-05-25T21:37:00.000+05:30

Dark has become
Frequent in my life
I struggle
I fight
With difficulty and strife

I wanna heal the pain
I’ve felt so long
I get lost in my own soul
Can’t remember
Where do I belong???

Everytime I think of you
I melt
Itz like a burn
I’ve ever felt…

I’ve become strong
Become silent…
Life taught me to accept
I was wrong…

Itz the moments
I do possess
Past has gone
Future not reached
Today is the time
To confess…

Today
My poetry becomes real
My passions, my gift
My heart becomes open
The dark shadow lift…

I want to meet you
To talk face to face
But fear for our friendship
My heart remains in itz place…

I shall always be there
No matter where you are
Any turns come to us
We shall be
Friendz forever…

About Reservation

2006-05-25T19:16:00.000+05:30

Well,friends over the last 1 month there had been a great deal of discussion and cry regarding this reservation issue.Though I'm not so wise or learned to comment on it,but I thought being given the Right To Freedom of Expression(I read about that in Pol.Sc class xi),I may write something which I feel!

There's been a whole nation wide protest about both pro and anti reservation.I'm not here to justify anyone...I know too little to do so......But I seriously feel that the UPA Govt instead of making sucjh a fuss about reservation in the IITs IIMs and Medical colleges should rather concentrate on the issue of primary education in our country.Apart from Kerala which can boast about more than 90% literacy, none of the states can do so!actually literacy rate in India haven't improved that much since independence.

Hence I feel that the Govt should rather concentrate on Primary education...If there they try to help the backward castes by quota...that would be better.After all if the base is right and strong ...given equal oppurtunity then they will be able to compete with everyone in the long run.I seriously believe that there should be no reservation when it comes to higher studies.

Even if the Govt feels they can arrange for scholarships for the backward castes.And also what about the poor but meritorious students...will they suffer because they are born with a trademark of general category?This seriously makes me believe that all these are really for nothing but increasing the vote bank...else there are so many issues which should be sorted out too like Witness protection,Women's Bill etc etc.

I don't know what you people feel about it...but in a democracy where the Govt is by the people,of the people and for the people ...the Govt is answerable to its people!Its time they answer Us..............

Blood smears the sun

2006-05-24T16:19:00.000+05:30

Blood smears the sun
In the eve of the dusk

Anonymous glimpses fade
Shadowy evening begins its journey

Unknown is the future
Narrow road moves forward

Heart beats
Eyes blink

Music plays on ..
Damp air flows into my lungs

Do I see it coming ?
Has the end arrived ?

Look , give us the past
We will purify the future

Try giving us the reason
Try giving us the answer

Drop by drop
Smoke by smoke

We conquered the cliff
Hang on

We have some words left to say.