THE NEW LOVE SONG OF ALFRED J. PRUFROCK

( Or The tragic song of a frustrated funny rabbit in a college lab)

"LAAYEGA MERE DIL KI TARAP KOI KAHAAN SE,/
SUNN NA HO MERA HAAL , SUNO MERI ZUBAAN SE." )


To the query "if I am a virgin/ "
Why talk like a moral surgeon?/

"Do I Love it cold, warm or hot?/"
I'm always wanting what is not?/


"Ugly? OK. OK. ? Or attractive"?/
Wish you were not so selective!/

"Messy? Uncouth? Ungainly? or Cute?"/
Neither balding sick, nor funnily hirsute./

"Would you up with H B hook?/"/
Perhaps, if u went beyond his look./
Will the answers leave me buried under the same dome?/
Or will they open casements on some magic foam?/

I too much discuss, too much explain./
At times with smile, but often with pain/
Why so many come to knock at my door?/
Want their data but nothing more?/
Would I always just a test rabbit be/
In the lab of a young scientific beauty?
What if on one glorious summer day/
Sizing up her curves and her mesmeric sway/
Out of her dainty fingers, I slip away?/
Or finding her alone, dare to propose/
A life where each day would be a red rose./

Will her "lab-mate",that stupid boy, be furious?/
To see the girl about my plans getting curious?/

Should I challenge him to a Russian duel?/
Hope she wouldn't think me too cruel !/

Oh, I will win her heart with a lover's song/
And we live happily, with love life-long./

Dreams will be horses for this beggar,/
Or I die, slain by the cloak that hides a dagger." /


Having known me thus for whatever I am/
Now sing me please some sweet 'nothings' Ma'am./

Will you , sitting by corpse, brush thy hair with my comb?/
Or. with your stupid guy, come and picnic at my tomb?/

Updated on Saturday · Comment ·

Hazel TRUTH AND WRITING: A THIN PARTITION see notes on fb

TRUTH AND LANGUAGE: A THIN PARTITION

"Across thin vaporous boundaries of language sits Truth, inviting, tempting but always receding as your mind advances towards it."

( Harcharan Bains on the paradoxical bonds between truth and Writing)

A writer is nothing if not God and, like God, must always remain knowable but indefinable, palpable but not expressible. Like the God-experience, the experience of writing -- and reading --- must be for ever enjoyable and for ever unknowable; forever knowable and for ever untranslatable. A writer and his reader are in a secret pact always to enjoy the vague intimations of Truth, but never Truth itself. A writer's words end up saying less than he means to convey and a reader reads more than the meaning unexpressed.

And yet, across the thin, vaporous boundaries of language sits Truth, inviting, tempting but always receding as your mind advances towards it. And it denies access not because it means you to know it the less but because it wants you enjoy it the more. If Truth stood where it first appeared, the horizons of your mind would never widen, nor your experience of joy touch the limitless.
Never belittle anything by trying to know it fully, to describe its whole truth. Everything in this universe is a God unto itself and will not yield to you the the core of its secrets. Its under no obligation to feed your petty curiosity. In that sense alone, God resides in every atom and every atom in the universe is a universe by itself, every little soul at once a part of the whole and the whole itself. The moment you focus on any single atom, it slips away and looks askance at you, reflecting the vast universe.
Writing -- like reading -- is much as love is: it binds you to your inner truth by connecting you to the outside world. Writing --like reading -- is as your sweet heart is: she would be loved without being understood. Only mediocre writing is totally understandable from only one angle. And by only one generation. Each new generation rediscovers the classics of the generations gone by. Great writing lends itself to new meanings for new generations. And thus every generation finds something entirely new in an old classic. This is how classics attain immortality.

Great writing is as spring is: it renews itself every year, bringing newer flowers of newer shades . Truth is always fresh; and it always refreshes those who receive it.

Great writing is as spring is: it renews itself every year, bringing newer flowers of newer shades . Truth is always fresh; and it always refreshes those who receive it.
Great writing is as God is: it always contradicts itself, and in doing so it looks at all the contradictions of life and reality. Consistency is a mediocre virtue and does not measure up to the astounding paradoxes of nature. It is a virtue in a moralist but a vice in a genius. There is no such thing as a consistent genius just as they is no such thing as an inconsistent moralist. Consistency comes in handy where goals are narrow and targets low. But a genius rises to dizzy, unseeable heights as much as he plummets to shocking depths. His inconsistencies are inexplicable as the contradictions of God and nature are. A great writer has no use for pedestrian virtues like consistency for he has to traverse vast zones full of extreme opposites, travelling through continents of scorching summers and freezings colds.

Hazel the Himalayas planted in a cemented skydome or in in a down town plaza , or the Garden of Eden walled in with a barbed wire

by Harcharan Bains
I have found that you are like a natural stream flowing through an artificial city, with cemneted embankments and skyscrappers lining around it. The stream dances its way with carefree abnadon through the narrow confines of its artifical definitions , and it is so lovely. made even lovelier by the contrast that a nature afire with spring provides a jungle of concrete. It is like having the Himalayas planted in a cemented skydome or in in a down town plaza , or the Garden of Eden walled in with a barbed wire. The jungle of concrete is the quality of people you meet these days. But , worry not, because they serve only to add to the optical thrill and wonder of your speed, like that of a jumbo which suddenly seems to gain speed as it lands, even though in fact it is at its slowest at that point. The unexciting stillness of the surroundings of the airstrip add to the visual speed of your craft. So it is with people who, who by trying to slow you down, actually serve to highlight your speed and thrill.

hazel :PONDS AND SKIES

I have never stopped launching my paper boats or flying my kites into the loving skies. The sky has always waited for my kites as my village ponds had waited for my boats. The ponds have become trasn-continental now but my boats dance as playfully on the waters' bosom as they always did when I bunked school to see my ...ships carried to the far end by the wind's gentle push of love.

HAZEL : I LOVE BECAUSE I HAVE NO CHOICE

I BREATHE BECAUSE I HAVE NO CHOICE. i LOVE BECASUE I HAVE NO CHOICE. And , LOVE AND BREATHING,...the day one of the two does not come to me as naturally as the other, I will be gasping in the throes of death. Let me not live if I have to "make an effort" to do either.

ਮੈਂ ਉਜੜੇ ਪਿੰਡੋ ਤੁਰਿਆ ਸਾਂ ਕਿ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਚ’ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਵੱਸਾਂਗਾ, /

A POEM BY AMARDEEP

ਮੈਂ ਉਜੜੇ ਪਿੰਡੋ ਤੁਰਿਆ ਸਾਂ ਕਿ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਚ’ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਵੱਸਾਂਗਾ, /
ਮੈਂ ਹੰਝੂ ਮਾਂ ਦੇ ਵੇਖੇ ਨਾ ਕਿ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਚ’ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਹੱਸਾਂ ਗਾ; /
ਉਹ ਰੋਈ ਸੀ ਕੁਰਲਾਈ ਸੀ ਤੇ ਦਿੰਦੀ ਰਹੀ ਦੁਹਾਈ ਸੀ, /
ਉਸ ਜਿਗਰ ਨੂੰ ਚੀਰਾ ਦਿਤਾ ਸੀ ਮੇਰੇ ਮਥੇ ਦਾਓਣੀ ਲਾਈ ਸੀ, /
ਮੈ ਦੂਰੋ ਹਥ ਹਿਲਾਇਆ ਸੀ ਉਹ ਬੜੀ ਦੂਰ ਤੱਕ ਆਈ ਸੀ,/
ਮੈ ਪਿਛੇ ਮੁੜ ਕੇ ਵੇਖਿਆ ਨਾ ਮੇਰੇ ਅੱਗੇ ਮੇਰੀ ਕਮਾਈ ਸੀ ,
ਉਹ ਬੈਠ ਬਨੇਰੇ ਰੋਂਦੀ ਰਹੀ ਮੇਰੀਆ ਰਾਹਾਂ ਵੇਹਦੀ ਰਹੀ , /
ਮੇਰੇ ਪੁੱਤ ਦੀ ਚਿਠੀ ਆਵੇਗੀ ਉਹ ਡਾਕੀਏ ਨੂੰ ਏ ਕਹਿੰ ਦੀ ਰਹੀ , /
ਫ਼ਿਰ ਡਾਕ ਕਦੀ ਨਾ ਆਈ ਸੀ ਉਹ ਮੌਤ ਨਾ ਮੱਥਾ ਲਾਉਂ ਦੀ ਰਹੀ,/
ਇਕ ਆਸ ਦਾ ਦੀਵਾ ਬਾਲ ਕੇ ਮਾਂ ਮੇਰੀ ਸ਼ਕਲ ਨੂੰ ਲੌਗ ਚ’ ਵਹਿੰ ਦੀ ਰਹੀ /
ਮੇਰਾ ਪੁੱਤ ਆਇਆ ਤਾ ਦੇ ਦਵੀ ਇਕ ਗੁਥਲੀ ਧੀ ਨੂੰ ਦਿੰਦੀ ਰਹੀ ;/
ਮੈ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਦੇ ਵਾਸੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਈਆ ਮੈ ਰੋਂਦੇ ਹਾਸੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਈਆ ,/
ਹਰ ਆਸ ਬੇਆਸੀ ਵੇਖੀ ਮੈ ਸਭ ਖਾਲੀ ਕਾਸੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਇਆ , /
ਹਰ ਪਾਸੇ ਹਸਰਤ ਰੋਦੀ ਸੀ ਮੈ ਸਾਰੇ ਈ ਪਾਸੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਇਆ /
ਮੈ ਭੁਖ ਤੋ ਡਰ ਕੇ ਦੌੜਾ ਸਾਂ ਉਥੇ ਵੀ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਇਆ/
ਇਹ ਝਾਕੇ ਦਿੰਦੀ ਦੁਨਿਆ ਨੂੰ ਦੌਲਤ ਦੇ ਝਾਕੇ ਵੇਖ ਆਇਆ /
ਜਦ ਗਿਆ ਸਾ ਸਿਖਰ ਦੁਪਿਹਰ ਸਾ ਇਕ ਠਾਂਠਾ ਮਾਰ੍ਦੀ ਲਹਿਰ ਸਾ ਮੈ/
ਸੂਰ੍ਜ ਦਾ ਪੈਂਡਾ ਵੇਖਿਆ ਨਾ ਜਦ ਮੁੜਿਆ ਆਖਰੀ ਪਹਿਰ ਸਾ ਮੈ /
ਮੈ ਚਾਨਣ ਅੱਪਣਾ ਵੇਚ ਆਇਆ ਅੱਜ ਬੜਾ ਹੀ ਘੁਪ ਹਨੇਰ ਸਾ ਮੈ /
ਮੇਰੀ ਵਕਤ ਨੇ ਹਰ ਸ਼ੈ ਖਾ ਲਈ ਸੀ ਹੁਣ ਖਾਲੀ ਪਈ ਚੰਗੇਰ ਸਾ ਮੈ /
ਮੈ ਦੇਰ ਬੜੀ ਹੀ ਕਰ ਆਇਆ ਹੁਣ ਚਾਰ ਦਿਨਾ ਦੀ ਦੇਰ ਸਾ ਮੈ /
ਉਹ ਪਿੰਡ ਹੁਣ ਮੇਰੀ ਥਾਣ ਨਹੀ ਸੀ ਉਹ ਵੇਲ਼ਾ ,ਸਮਾਂ ਨਹੀ ਸੀ /
ਸਭ ਸੜ ਕੇ ਪੱਤੇ ਝੜ ਗੇ ਸਨ ,ਹੁਣ ਰੁੱਖ ਦੀ ਕੋਈ ਛਾਂ ਨਹੀ ਸੀ /
ਉਹ ਸਾਰੀ ਬਸਤੀ ਬਦਲ ਗਈ ਉਹ ਦੁਨੀਆ ਉਹ ਜਹਾਂਨ ਨਹੀ ਸੀ/
ਮੈ ਜਿੰਦਰਾ ਵੇਖ ਕੇ ਮੁੜ ਆਇਆ ਉਸ ਘਰ ਵਿੱਚ ਮੇਰੀ ਮਾਂ ਨਹੀ ਸੀ/
ਮੈਂ ਉਜੜੇ ਪਿੰਡੋ ਤੁਰਿਆ ਸਾਂ ਕਿ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਚ’ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਵੱਸਾਂਗਾ, /
ਮੈਂ ਹੰਝੂ ਮਾਂ ਦੇ ਵੇਖੇ ਨਾ ਕਿ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਚ’ ਜਾ ਕੇ ਹੱਸਾਂ ਗਾ; /
ਉਹ ਰੋਈ ਸੀ ਕੁਰਲਾਈ ਸੀ ਤੇ ਦਿੰਦੀ ਰਹੀ ਦੁਹਾਈ ਸੀ, /
ਉਸ ਜਿਗਰ ਨੂੰ ਚੀਰਾ ਦਿਤਾ ਸੀ ਮੇਰੇ ਮਥੇ ਦਾਓਣੀ ਲਾਈ ਸੀ, /
ਮੈ ਦੂਰੋ ਹਥ ਹਿਲਾਇਆ ਸੀ ਉਹ ਬੜੀ ਦੂਰ ਤੱਕ ਆਈ ਸੀ /
ਮੈ ਪਿਛੇ ਮੁੜ ਕੇ ਵੇਖਿਆ ਨਾ ਮੇਰੇ ਅੱਗੇ ਮੇਰੀ ਕਮਾਈ ਸੀ ./

HAZEL: "I love not men the less, but women more"

"A woman looks beautiful in all her loving moods, but never more so than when her eyes linger over the movements of her child. God would have been immensely more acceptable and popular if 'HE' had been a 'SHE'; then, no Jesus would have to mount a Cross to remind us whose children we are."

MOTHER'S DAY? WHICH DAY IS NOT? EXISTS THERE A DAY WHEN HER LOVE DOES NOT RUN IN YOUR VEINS?

Shyamli Trived wrote to Harcharan Bains:.. do u really think so.... the people who crucified Jesus.. actually tried to kill the belief that he had ... not the gender or the physical human... or else if it had been the case ... they could have easily kill him without making it such mass event ...i believe ... believe in something is far beyond the gender... or else in country ... See Morewere kaali and durga are worshiped , and considered as a goddesses of power.. the women of that would not have been suppressed to that extent where we would have to think about "women empowerment"...its just the human weakness that needs image and idols to believe rather than believing something that is beyond this physical stuff.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Harcharan Bains @ Shyaml Trivedi: No, I didn't mean it as a gender thing. I merely used the Jesus symbolism to drive him my point that a woman can achieve with compassion what men try to achieve through what most men call "practical power" and what i call " muscle power". Also, if you look closely at all great men , poets and prophets, you will notice a strong feminine streak in them. Jesus is great becasue of his compassion; Guru Gobind Singh not because he was a great soldier but because he was a saint and a poet-visionary first, whose message even after all those bitter wars and sacrifices was "Jin Prem Kio tein he prabh paayo". . You find certain motherly qualities in all great men who have loved humankind and have suffered for its welfarre.Even Napolean Bonaparte, who loved his mother and his lady Josephine like he loved nothing else, had this streak in him. Again that is not about biological feminism but about symbolism of feminism as expressive of certain well defined traits. I am aware that even all women are not paragons of these qualities, but you must also have noticed that we generally speak of such women as devoid of feminine grace or compassion and gentility. Feminism as symbolism is what I am speaking of, and this has nothing do with the bilogical fact of being a man or a woman.But yes, bilogically also , there is one experience that we men can never have; the experience of being a mother. And the psychological implications of this bilogical factor are immense.But Jesus and Kabir and Nanak and Farid arouse feelings in us which are akin to those which our mothers arouse.Incidentally, all Sikh Gurus and many mystics like Bulle Shah and Shekh farid often described themselves as "sohaagan" and "woman in love" and "maidens" and "Mehla" and Kamini etc in thier verses,and God as their male. . Is there any symbolism they are trying to use to convey something that can not be conveyed through ordianry human language. But yes, I am self-confessed lover of womankind and strongly believe that if there were no women in life, this life would hardly be worth living anyway. Call it my icorrigible romanticism, but that is another matter. To misquote Byron, I love not man the less, but woman more.

"HAZEL: THERE IS A POET IN EVERY RIGHTEOUS SOUL, AND A JOURNALIST IN EVERY SELF-RIGHTEOUS MIND

""The righteous is essentially a lover, the self-righteous essentially a preacher. The righteous is a healer, happy to help; the self-righteous is essentially a critic, content to condemn and criticize."


"WHAT IS RIGHTEOUSNESS and how does it differ from self-righteousness? Why do most of us prefer self-righteousness over righteousness? And why the self-righteous are generally arrogant and contemptuous while the righteous are full of humility and modesty? Why the righteous generally take others to be equally righteous while every self-righteous person seems to believe he is the last ( if not the only one) of the kind on God’s assembly line, and that the world is full of thieves and crooks.

Ordinarily, you can tell the difference between the righteous and the self-righteous by what each one of them leaves you feeling after a few moments with them. The righteous leaves you feeling good about yourself and about the world in general. A meeting with the self-righteous would generally leave you feeling either guilty or angry or outraged, or all three together. The righteous are like a cool breeze on a hot midsummer day; the self righteous are like ice piled on a pneumonic in the dead of December. The dominant feeling after meeting a pious and honest soul is one of an inexplicable well-being and happiness over just about everything ;a meeting with the other kind leaves you feeling you are living in a hostile and evil universe.The pious and the righteous believe that love and trust beget love and trust; a self-righteous person is by himself a proclamation that love is a failing and trust a folly. A pious man’s response to hatred is more love; a self-righteous man is wary of love and believes that hating others is safer option since most of mankind does not value love.

The righteous will always be happy and would seem to be smiling where the self-righteous would see nothing to smile about.

The picture of a saint as a miserable soul who suffers because of his saintliness is the creation of a self-righteous imagination. To the pious and the enlightened, a saint is a blessed creature who sings songs of unheard-of happiness and dances in ecstasy over finding a window to truth.

The righteous is essentially a lover, the self-righteous essentially a preacher. The righteous is a healer, happy to help; the self-righteous is essentially a critic, content to condemn and criticize.

There is a poet in every righteous soul and a journalist in every a self-righteous mind. (With due apologies to the Fourth and the most powerful pillar of society!) A self-righteous man always “knows” that there is some secret selfish design behind every act of goodness; equally certainly, the righteous person “believes” that there is some secret and noble cause behind every seemingly evil action of others.

The chief difference between a cynic and a saint is this. A cynic knows that goodness simply does not exist, and it is his self-assigned mission to expose the “fraud and hypocrisy” behind any act, deed or conduct that appears to radiates nobility of character and intent. A saint on the other hand takes nobility, piety and love as natural conditions in this universe and proceeds to explain how even a sinner has a case for forgiveness.

Both the self-righteous cynic and the righteous romantic have a common virtue: their unswerving faith in and commitment to their respective vision of reality. Both believe that there are minor, negligible aberrations in their ‘perfect world-view’: Light to one and darkness to the other is that minor aberration. To the righteous and the pious saint, sin and selfishness are minor structural flaws in human mind, there perhaps to allow his self-correcting mechanisms to be operationalised . To the cynical self-righteous crusader, protestations of love and truth and caring are tools which the hypocrites use to mislead others. At best, these sentiments ( protestations !) are mere exceptions, there merely to test the rule.

Finally, who or what would you rather your children be? Self-righteous cynics, cautious and practical in their approach to life, the world and the people? There is a clear advantage in that position: your children would never be cheated because they would never trust. Or would you rather your child be a dreamer, a romantic idealist who would come home cheated of the small coins in his narrow pocket but not of the great love in his large heart?

Would you be proud that your child outsmarted everyone including his teachers by inventing the most innovative and original lies for evading honest hard-work and instead achieved the desired result through dishonest short-cuts?

Or are you among a handful of those dreamy-eyed “truth driven” romantics who believe that they can match the feats of the noble Gurus and prophets and saints , and who would rather have their children come home defeated through defraud rather than as conquerors through cunning, Would you rather your child came home defeated but decorated with the halo of truth and honesty; or would you rather he returned victorious through wily untruths but disgraced because of his deceits?

It pays to be a cynic; you can always afford that stupid victorious grin on your face.

But it pays more to be able to come home and look your parents in the eye and humbly say: “Mamma, your son did nothing wrong or bad today. And Papa, your son is an honest man.”As for the argument between the rational and the romantic, here is Dr. S. Radhakrishanan: “ The cool, calculating people, careful of appearances, will never fall grievously low; but they will never soar high. Only the deeply sincere can afford to make fools of themselves.”

HAZEL: NOTHING WILL BE ACHIEVED BY WINNING ARGUMENTS; WIN HEARTS. IF YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO WIN HEARTS, LOVE AND BE RIGHTEOUS ANYWAY.

IF YOU ARE RIGHTEOUS AND NOT POPULAR, YOU WILL STILL BE LOVED BY THOSE WHO SHOULD LOVE YOU. BUT IF YOU ARE POPULAR BUT NOT RIGHTEOUS, IT SIMPLY DOES NOT MATTER WHO LOVES YOU . NOTHING WILL BE ACHIEVED BY WINNING ARGUMENTS; WIN HEARTS. IF YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO WIN HEARTS, LOVE AND BE RIGHTEOUS ANYWAY.



(TO MY SON, IN PUBLIC) )

"WHEN EYES ARE BLOODSHOT ........

"If you react angrily, or at least least with rude truthfulness,you are arrogant. if you react with humility, you are diplomatic, honey coated. if you dont't react at all, you have nothing to say. If you point to people cringing for small favours before the very people they criticise , ( not for " for getting justice, but for seeking small favours") well, you are defending the people before whom they are cringing. . if you , who are not even powerful , are asked to grant the same favours and you do not do it, ( as you certainly would not ) then you are not willing to use your position for others' benefit. If you use it, you are misusing your authority to promote favourites . And you have no right to see any good in the person you are working with and you must be guided by other people's opinion of him Do your job, if you must, of promoting the person some others dislike , though they declare they do not know him enough --do your dirty job, get paid, shut up and get lost. If you happen to love the man you work with, keep it to yourself.

If you find any contradictions in what others , especially those more learned than you , say, then just remember those charming lines:

'Naaz-o-andaaz se kehte hain ke jeena hoga/
Zehar bhi dete hain to kehte hain ke peena hoga./
Gar main jeeta hoon to kehte hain ke marta bhi nahin/
Gar main marta hoon to kehte hain ke jeena hoga./

"And if you venture to engage in a polite discussion with the learned, be ready to be asked questions from those who have already pronounced the judgement , closed the issue and declared that they have already said all that there was to be said on the subject. And yet you will be required to answer the questions. And be ready to be told you are defending the corrupt because you are with the corrupt.If you are not corrupt and nobody can prove you are and you can prove that you are not, worse is your misfortune. No questions asked , and no answers sought . Don't protest too much, anyway. When confronted with angry opinions, do not inisist on data or evidence in support of those opinions, because opinions generally are autonomous, soveriegn creatures, data is the last refuge of the unsure and the insecure. If you know something, why do you need pedestrian tools like evidence or data to prove it to others? And why must you ahve to prove it to others anyway? Is your knowing something not enough of a reason for others to believe in it ? If it is not, do you really think your data will succeed where you have failed? Weaker the reason and evidence, stronger the opinion.

This, my son, is one way to respond to the world. This can win you an argument.

But there is another. And this is a path followed by those who dare to love. This can win you hearts.

"When eyes are bloodshot, vision is narrow, said someone. Inspite of this, forget the bitterness and avoid sarcasm, that sore which pleases as it slowly kills. Just respect the opinionated. And above all, my son, don't give up on patience and hope in the ultimate sanity of human species. Do not give up on love, because it is your thing and has little or nothing to do with those you love. Persist with your faith in the eventual triumph of truth which transcends geogrraphical boudnaries and does not allow any monopolistic , properietary rights to an country, India or the USA. Girls will be raped in India as well as in Ameria and Paksitan and elsewhere. Do not be heartless enough to reduce it to a matter of statistics --more in one country less in the other. A rape is a cosmic trauma -- and to one has to take it. ANd to her, it is small consolation to know in which country it happens less and by what by what percentage. Ditto for murders, corruption, dishonesty. There will foddergates in India and watergates elsewhere. Presidents and Prime Minisiters will use their postions to sexually abuse their secretaries in Dubai or Delhi or Detroit , on Jan Path or in houses famous for their whiteness. Don't be misled by numbers. Sin and virtue are not about numbers. It is about how strongly your mind revolts against these. It is not about proving a point; it is about being senstivie to the pain and horror of untruth and injsutice and suffering and pain. Does your heart cry out in pain at the sight of injustice and suffering, or do you merely reduce to one more argument in your pet thesis. And do your hands and legs obey your angusihsed heart and run to help those who need it, or do you merely tabulate it into data for the next seminar or TV talk show?

Look carefully within yourself, for that is the only place from where all answers come. If there is love in your heart, and compassion and the willingness to get up and do something to change what you don't like , you will hear a voice within your heart answering all your questions with single loving gesture. Instead of merely soothing your conscience by criticising others for what you find unacceptable in the world, you will get up and start an effort, however small or weak, to change it.

And nothing will be achieved by winning arguments; win hearts.

HAZEL: STINK IN MY SOUL - FROM DELHI '84 TO GUJRAT; FROM KASHMIR TO BENGAL AND THE TAJ MUMBAI

STINK IN MY SOUL - FROM DELHI '84 TO GUJRAT; FROM KASHMIR TO BENGAL AND THE TAJ MUMBAI

" Hatred in my heart is a worse and more dreadful sin than blood on my hands. Murder is loud, unpretentious and much less prevalent than hate; hatred is ubiquitous,a surreptitious hypocrite and a parasite:it kills the heart it flatters. But neither will spare the marrrow in your bones, blood in your veins and oxygen in your heart. Murder is mothered by hate."



Nazar woh jo dushamn pe bhi meharbaan ho/
Zubaan woh jo ik piyaar ki dastaan ho.

Dear Amrita, let me take you back to my Gujrat Golden Jubilee note which is only about the show. I was at pains even to underline that as for as Modi is concerned, everyone has an opinion and everyone can be right, because truth is never unidimensional. In any case, i was not -- and am not -- making a statement on Modi. But why do you say "whatever he might do", you would still not tolerate him? After all, millions of people have opted for him over and over again. And that option has to do with their destiny, so they should know what they are doing. But if you are referring to the massacre of Muslims in Modi's state, I also believe that , alongwith the massacre of Sikhs in 1984 and the killing of innocents by terrorists , that remains a stink in India's soul. There is no question of not agreeing with you on howone must react to the perpetrators of this outrage against humanity. But why don't you have a similar sense of outrage against the father and mother of Rahul Gandhi who openly justified the 84 massacre? Do you hate Rajiv as much as you hate Modi? Do you think that one killer , for whatever reason, is less of a killer than the other? No, I am not advocating hatred towards ANYONE. Far from it, I am just making sure that you are not being partial. You can not seek human rights norms for Kasab and a "hang by the nearest tree" verdict for Modi. For me, Gujrat, Delhi, Kashmir and Mumbai (The Taj!) stand in the same que and their script writers must be shot or forgiven togehter. But personally, I am unable to hate the criminal and downplay the crime. If I hate, I must hate both with equal intensity. I look at it this way: Hatred in my heart is a worse and more dreadful sin than blood on my hands. One is likely to commit murder far less often than indulge in hatred, and therefore, hatred is more dangerous and cleverer enemy than even murder. Murder is loud and unpretentious; hatred is a surreptitious hypocrite and a parasite -- it kills the heart it flatters. But be equially watchful against both because neither will spare the marrrow in your bones, blood in veins and oxygen in your lungs and heart.

MURDER IS MOTHERED BY HATE.