Saturday, April 19, 2014

Kejrival slapped - apology

I have to make an exception to my resolve not to make any comment on any political event or issue. I cannot help registering my strongest sense of outrage over what happened today in that incident involving Shri Arvind Kejrival.This was unforgivable. Even from the opposing side, and even without me or anyone I represent being responsible for what happened, I feel I owe him an apology. I strongly condemn this uncivilized conduct. So must everyone regardless of his or her political affiliations.

candate for heaven

I rule myself out as a candidate for heaven.. more of it later.

tantalizingly through the soil at your feet... O winds,O breeze, O breath O tree, where is the hour you hid as you giggled like a school girl, half in innocence , half in mischief....

Oh , to be able to find the hour to toss all the twigs and stones and pebbles and sand and soil over across that pond.....and return to the one thing that alone seems to give some happiness, therefore have some meaning. That one thing: to live being oneself, all the time. Politics often threatens to take me away from my little paper boats, these paper boats in which i loaded the cargo of my dreams and set those dreams afloat on the breeze of love in the direction of nowhere from where the little whiffs of love keep blowing gently in.....As I stand here, under this tree that recognises me from me what beats in my bosom,..O tree, tell me the hour that will take me to the sound of the ripple that love causes in your leaves....Let my hour come too...let me leaves clap their hands too..let me sing with you and my soul be carried in and by the breeze that your leaves exhale...or the breeze that plays with your leaves as it does with your scrumptious mouth, kissing even the lips of your roots, exposes tantalizingly through the soil at your feet... O winds,O breeze, O breath O tree, where is the hour you hid as you giggled like a school girl, half in innocence , half in mischief....At your feet, on your bosom , in your breath lies the hour I seek. Do you know I will never come to claim it, because I know if I claim you will render it unto me as mine...and I gave it you because i wanted it to be yours. I will always come to you to reclaim my debt, but never accept it even if you give it to me a million fold with interest and more...This hour which is my bond with you will always be in your gentle finger, O leaves. This hour will always be with you because this hour is the hour of eternity of my love for you..I have other eternities to love, other loves to follow..other hours that I have entrusted to other friends, friends like the sea out there, things like the cloud that laughs and bathes with me, things like the temple bells that sing to me songs of romance while others fear them for hell and heaven....

My hour is with you and though i will seek it every hour, never shall I allow myself to find it...

Because I love you O tree, Because I love you O seas, Because I love you, you proud sky and O gentle humble earth. Because I love you. because I love......

Keep the hour. I have no time for time keeping. I have time for eternity and I will dance and sing because only dance is eternal and because only song is eternal

If I ever fall in love again......if I ever find that I have always been in love...If you who think I talk insane because I talk to you of love..

If i come and embrace and kiss you and sleep with you, O will know why I seek the hour and don't want to find it. O earth, and rivers and streams and winds and fire and the dark dark night in which my love glows...and the bold bright day which hides my night of loving sins >>>Because I love you which is because you love which is all that you and I and others know, even those who think they know not......One day, all thorns will sing too and share with the rose their pain..One day the rose will toss its head at the thorns and sing, I am a coquette, you are sages....teach me how to get all the blame silently Love you..(Dedicated to someone)

Doing the unforgivable and forgiving whats done ...

Nothing is easier than doing the unforgivable; nothing more difficult than to forgive, truly forgive.

From dark tunnel into a new dawn

What should have been yesterday by now still looks bang in the eye, unwilling to go to sleep....There was a break from work in the earlier part of tonight but it was over by the time I was able to make up my mind on what to do with it....And then the dark depression ..and finally a return to work again....Occasional departure to Fb to heave a deep breath for relief and relaxation is the only royal luxury these days....

Rehras Sahib and some more reflective readings apart, days are just a 'to do' list pasted on every wall of mind's inner chambers....

With all this, there is a deep silence that echoes a deeper silence which throws the first echo back... and the constant tosses back and forth produce the clickety-clack of a billion cosmic beats, internal rhythm of seasons dancing to the pulsating internal music of a loving heart beat ...

Thus does life create music for itself to deny hollow sounds even a temporary victory, thus does hunger turn into meal, feeding upon itself, thus does my mouth water to quench a parched throat................Bichhona dharti ko kar ke arre aakash od le.! Fare forward to the call of the work place.

The executive head and the judicary in us

Generally speaking, the world is right about us but appears wrong because the image that the world sees of us does not tally with the self-image every individual carries of himself in his heart. The problem everyone has is that no man is able to separate the executive head in heart from the judicial head who adjudicates upon the same man's actions.

Inhaling incense

This is campaign time, but I am still inhaling incense in my soul and hearkening melodies unheard.....I hadn't thought such gardens and so much fragrance spread across our inner space...

All thorns too will sing

"One day, all thorns will sing too and share with the rose their pain..One day the rose will toss its head at the thorns and sing, "I am a coquette; you are sages....teach me how to take all blame silently. "

The song in you...

Have you ever felt as if everything you have been so engrossed in, deeply committed to , relishing almost as your physical, emotional and spiritual feast was not even worth a little toss of a beautiful head and moving your fingers through "brown hair sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown" or worth a hearty, hearty laugh shared with a beggar urchin in small by-lanes, or just closing your eyes for a siesta while your mother watches with quiet love in her eyes. Have you ever felt, even as you were leading in a F1 race, like throwing it all up, grabbing a crumpled piece of paper or whatever you could lay your hands on and retire to some quiet obscure corner just to allow the song in you to strike a beat through your pen? Have you ever felt that after you secured basic bread and butter and reasonable comfort of a roof and a few clothes for you and family, its insane to go on breaking into sweat just to "ambitionise" your approach life. 

Yes, work is the greatest high for a clean soul, a worship, a passion, a romance - but only when work is done as a consecration.

But to return to the question, have you ever felt as if everything......

Paper boats with cargo of dream

"I have never allowed the child in me to stop launching paper boats from one end of the village pond and running to the other end to receive them, jumping and clapping my hands in glee as they arrive with their cargo of my dreams".......

I speak of voyages where winds dance..

"I speak of voyages where winds dance , one arm around the ocean's waist, while breeze tip-toes on sparkling curls of water, blowing kisses to shores. I, standing here on one shore, thirst even for a fleeting glance of the ships on voyage, a secret longing in my heart to board them , praying that some fellow travellers here - or pilgrims already on board - may beckon me close, stretch those dainty slender fingers my ways, or put a firm hand out towards me, hoist me on board and take me , a pilgrim among pilgrims, on a merry cruise to the horizon. They live on seas where horizons melt to the center of whirl-pools, and there, amid the roar of water grappling with water, the deep blue sings a rippling music, almost in silence.."

Of 'likes' and the attendance register

I can now confess. My students will bear me out that as a teacher I seldom carried attendance register to the class room.In fact, I would always tell my students that they needed to come to me only if they loved me enough to want to teach me and learn from me, and that if they came for fear of attendance register only, they needn't come: the attendance register would go to them and they can mark themselves present there.

I didn't want a beautiful girl coming to meet me at midnight merely because I was the local SHO. I would rather she came to me because she was in love with me. Not even out of mere courtesy or desire not to hurt, but simply out of love.

I bring it up here because I feel that many of our friends "like" what others write merely as a social courtesy or group etiquette.

This does speak highly of their culture and kindness. But I am sure all of us would want to see more than a mere like or dislike from our friends.

This is even more important when our friends happen to possess remarkable qualities of intellect and heart; one surely benefits immensely by engaging with them closely and and at length.

Kuchh samajhe bhi ke yoon hi is ko bhi 'like' kar do ge ?

Silence echoes mute grief

The silence on this page today is an echo of the mute grief within the four walls of a friend's home and heart - Sukh Arora

Words are everything

Words are everything...words and actions. Words, actions and the feeling and the thought behind them. Words, actions and the thought or feeling behind them in a world where all these have a context.All this plus how everyone else in your life views it. And then how you view the fact f how others view you. And you and others viewing each other must have some sort of emotional, psychological , physical and even spiritual backdrop. Without a backdrop, no spectacle has a character. Without character, nothing is either visible or intelligible. All this purifying panorama of mind, soul and body, all this landscape of bliss, peace and joy dispersed over all the beings of nature and all the nature of beings...What meaning would all this have without love, love that is not for this or for that, but just and overpowering force, a power, an energy that leads you forcefully yet gently, almost coyly int its kingdom without bounds where songs and music, gentle and energetic ... all this,my son, all this I pass on to you. let these words ring a music in your soul. let these words....Words are everything..

Blood dripping from my words

  I have known and experienced and lived through what worlds words can create, what worlds can words build and rebuild and what worlds can words devastate. My own words have taught me how they can turn wounds into dreams and dreams into wounds. I like to remember the dreams the words of some in my life bequeathed to me; I like never to forget the spectacle of blood trickling or even streaming down from wounds wide and deep on the hearts and minds of others that i inflicted. I seek and expect no forgiveness from those who I destroyed with my words. You , the good soul that you are, may not even know how much blood I have shed in life with words alone. You are an angel of heaven's purest glow. Therefore,my words will sound unreal to you. That is how your presence in this world defines grace. I am different.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Would I want to be born again? No, except if....

Thoughts from a brief breather from battle-field ........

Would I want to be born again? NO. I found so much love in my own heart and in the hearts of everyone I met that I wouldn't want to risk ruining even a part of it a second time. Who knows the second time may not be as good as this one. Yes, there was pain,..and Yes there was struggle ..And yes there was poverty..And the suffering I saw my mother endure quietly and with a smile and compassion for everyone..Yes, there were years and years when I was n't sure I would find a job. Yes, there were pangs of love. Yes, there was all this. But with all this, there was a magnificent backdrop of love and compassion held up by the dainty fingers of my mother to ensure I didn't lose faith in the goodness of others and of life. And there was love all the while shining through the darkest hours, even through the zones when my own petty thoughts and actions rendered me unworthy of this bliss. Yet, life's been one long call for gratitude.

But no, i wouldn't want to chance it on a second throw of dice. No I would n;t want to be born again - except if there is the same mother to uphold me against all the possible risks . And except if mother doesn't have to suffer the blows she had to in this life.

Thats the one thorn that pricks.

Plus that I wasn't worthy to be born to a Goddess.

But since that same Goddess dispelled all dark and bitter thoughts from my heart, I wouldn't want to make her labour over all this once again.

Thanks for being my mother, Ma. And sorry for the Cross you had to bear for us. The Cross that you bore with such grace it might even shamed whoever wrote the script of your destiny.

Pray for us sinners, now and at the time of our death.
Pray for us sinners."