Your Eyes..!!

The choicest of letters
only fetters
the ineffable that 
Your Eyes are.


The ineffable that
Your Eyes are
betters
the choicest of letters.

I am a mystery to myself. I am the devil; I am the saviour; I am the victim; I am the beast; I am God. I am the story behind each story; the untold, the fabricated, the within, the without; the fuel, the discard. I am the candle that fades away in the sun, the darkness that is visible; I am the unshaped before the mirror, but what shapes everything. I am the deepest desire that cannot be desired. I am the Mysterious Dr. Ramsey, within you!

That Tight Hug

The gentle breeze

           The starry night,

   Have all the charm

                      With you in sight.

The leaves, they swayed

                                       My mind, not made

        Your hand, I take?

                                                            Or hair I rake.

The gentle breeze, the starry night,

The leaves that swayed, But you in sight

brings order.

They barked, they ran

But surely did fan

The gentle breeze, the air.

You shiver, and hold

my arms, and fold-

I feel your hair.

That tight hug.

That tight hug?

No, the world.

It unfurled

The fury of joy,

And an alloy

Of you and me –

Now we.

These Newer Times................

A sense of something being amiss marks my days. I am leading a very busy life but am not sure what my life is leading me to.

Despite my calm, or rather, enthusiastic demeanour, a storm, threatening absolute anarchy and chaos, is brewing within me.

There is a state of Anomie, of utter normlessness, that I am existing with. And normlessness, not because of the absence of values, of ideas, but because of there being too many of them. I am, in a way, lost in the woods, but all the same, unsure of the paths that seem to present themselves. The sense of a lost glory overcomes me as I traverse the path that is most accessible, or in mediocre parlance, the most travelled.

I REGRET............

This piece was written on the background of a very important event that took place during my stay at Ranchi. It was one of those moments where a feeling of guilt overpowered me. But nevertheless, this incident taught me a lot. More details to be given only on personal contact.

Evenings ‘ll call the Night, Night urge the morrow,

Months turn to years, yet my cup of sorrow,

Shall I sip – uncomplained; that look of yours,

That grieved, yet calm look, had opned the doors,

For storms, ‘th intent ravage, ‘n shelter they took,

At Eden Gardens; my conscience was all shook;

My love’s candle, yet, doth not flicker, it burns,

Ah! You’re my flame, leading me through turns;

In valleys dark would I be,

Bereft of you my flame,

All challenges you help me tame,

So light my candle – my earnest plea.

Sonnet 3

No people stopped, nor time did wait,

At my love’s – my poor. dear love’s – fate;

For those seconds, do I repent,

In deep mourning, which I had spent

When, without much ado, she returned,

My heart, till then, for her it burned;

A wise man’s words, they let me see,

That tears futile, and I was free;

Time flew by, her memories lost,

Seldom our paths, since then have crossed;

Reset priorities had I,

The limit being, the deep blue sky;

Yet grieves my heart, to see how swift,

They fall in love, and out of it.

Sonnet 2

Wants know no limits, resources do,

Is it reason enough, for wants to subdue?

A bit of cash in hand, by means not so fair,

Ah! That you can forget, offering a simple prayer;

Prices of things, are doubling all too quick,

For your dreams to be shaped, you have to play a trick.

In silk is when your mistress clad,

And children with their gadgets, so glad;

On you will they shower, their love, so shammed,

It’ll grow, this love, marking your pockets crammed.

Things for which, will people skirmish,

Will be at your feet, the moment you wish.

For peace of mind, it’ll fall short, though,

And fraudulence won’t give, your face any glow.

Sonnet 1

You may have the courage, the art or the skill,

To search for gold, in the land you till;

To turn the tide, when typhoons blow,

But death comes knocking, and there’s nowhere you can go.

Death is a leveller, I’ve heard people say;

No matter how far, you’ve gone on your way,

It brings you back, one fine bright day,

Mocking o’er powers, on which you held sway.

The king and the pawn, in the same box they rest,

No matter in the game, who gave his best.

In its inevitability, lies death’s fear,

The tick of the clock, and it comes but near.

Yet Tis’ the kings who reign, his statues we mould,

And songs sung for those, who find their gold.

................To The Creator...................

( Written for Vinay Bhaiya )

The yellowish tinge of the rising sun,

Hiding ‘tween hills, as it begins its run,

But neither this, nor a hundred roses,

Or gentle prophecy of the Muses,

Do I find as pleasing, as voice of yours,

Which unlike the sun, can open all doors;

A glimpse of yours, lets me not stray,

And sight does drive, sorrows away.

As gems are priced, no gem you are,

Nor roses too, they go not far,

‘ A legend ‘ some say, some opine,

Your godly face, they see to shine.

I fail, yet try, to be like you,

Its tough you are, as pure as dew;

Words too, they fail, to speak of you,

I promise though, to have all through,

The flame of love, for you which burns,

For all my life, by all the turns.

.......................PAIN........................

Fields, would bear not crops,

Being bathed in water drops,

And in the sun so bright

Alone; tis’ needed all right,

But plough’s pain, its sting,

This in reality does bring,

Sweet success : to eyes this is seen,

Through pains which it has been,

Lose remembrance, all too soon,

They are though, the real boon.

Imparters of zeal, and of vigour,

These traits it does trigger,

In souls having known,

The pleasure of pain, and grown.

Like snowflakes on a mountain top,

Pains eventually do drop,

In valleys of oblivion, they lie.

But if you did, or did not try,

Etched for perpetuity, it stays,

For the your life, your nights and days.

Honeyed be every path we cross,

Pleasure would lose its charm, its gloss,

But buttered bread, after starving nights,

Tastes better ‘an all the pleasurely bites.............................................................

THOSE TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are times I wonder. Wonder if anything matters. Does my wondering matter? Do I matter? Star Trek wanted us to believe that space was the final frontier. So, do frontiers matter? And if they do, why would Mr. Kane utter a ‘Rosebud’ symbolising his sleighing days as the happiest, when he was dying? It might appear from this analogy, that, perhaps ‘being happy’ matters. But does it, really? I have an unflinching faith that since this was the simplest answer mankind could find, it has stuck to it. Were you not HAPPY when you chatted for hours with your first love? But does it really matter, now that you are treading paths as different as they could be and you having a very strong hunch she’s chatting away those very same hours with some other of your kind? Were you not happy when you went on that vacation with your family? But you always had to come back to your abode, now very much dusty, and clean it up. The romance always fades; the honeymoon always ends, doesn’t it? But you have SWEET MEMORIES, I hear you say!!! So what do you do of those? Go into a trance? Use them as a bulwark against bad days? As some sort of a rosy view for difficult times. Wouldn’t they BIAS you for INACTION? Wouldn’t you be better off shedding off that slumber and delving into the problem?

I am a believer in the value of relationships, but at times as these, I even wonder about the futility of these. In contemporary times, where individuality is celebrated, are these but traps for a more comfortable and less stressful existence? Does love matter? In the early days of my first romance, I didn’t quite agree with Harivansh Rai Bachchan when his poems asked people not to mourn too long on the loss of a close aide and as FASTRACK now tells us to move on. But experience and reason have made me reason better now. You lose a loved one, well, numerous people do, each day, each moment. Does it change the universe one bit? It changes your universe, huh. Well, how long then? And do you not adapt yourself to your newer environment? You do, of course, commemorate the moment of the loss, but there are numerous other moments when you don’t, when it matters not one bit. And various worthy beings (who do matter, partly if not as a whole) have even faded without ever getting a favoured response to their love. I could very much relate to Vijay’s character in Pyaasa, when he questions the sort of people who ever got love. It might sound remarkably hedonistic but I often wonder if we value love, as much as we do, only so that we can escape the pangs of loneliness or have a companion to share experiences or bad times. And if it is so, does it really matter if one has the love of one or the other, few or many, or perhaps none at all?

It might sound like the tragic vision of Ancient Greeks about humans being fated to die without knowledge of any world transcending purpose. Well, I meant it to. It is indeed the greatest tragedy of all times. Countless men have come and gone, deeply immersed in shallow water of ignorance (read BLISS for them). Countless men will come and go, worried just about a beautiful wife, pension and SOCIETY. Such a colossal waste on immaterial issues!!!! In such times of fury, I am willing to accept no Martin Hansen-like consolations of ‘nobody wins’ and sort and neither that wisdom comes with age and that time is the answer. Bentham supposedly read the History of England at age 3, a seemingly implausible attainment. We are being told for ages now that you are just an actor in this world, which is but a stage. All you need to do is play your part well and not worry of the consequences. There is a higher power to take care of such intricacies. You can just hope for a final union with that higher power. But this is leaving too much in hands of fate. So much not in control of your life. Is it not better to take control then? I sincerely believe that if we pursue harder enough and longer enough, we could make it matter.

Remember Guy Pearce in Memento. Creating puzzles for himself in order to give his life some sort of a purpose and direction. Are we all, not in the same league? Whatever we do, whatever we aspire to attain, is it all just to give some purpose to life. It might be like taking NIHILISM to the extreme, but would we not be better off in quest for the purpose of life, instead of giving a purpose to it????

I am not always this critical and judgmental and do take use of a lot of crutches to support my life. These thoughts are of those times I wonder. I do not know if I will succeed in getting a single answer, but back to square one, I am certain that I MATTER and undoubtedly those times matter, THOSE TIMES THAT I WONDER.

THIS IS MY BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A brief introduction about the blogger might be necessary at this point of time. But another question also deserves to be answered. Why blog?? To vent out anger, or to take refuge in it when sad? No, that’s not me. I am a man of ideas. So for their furtherance? Probably. But also because I found a vital difference between keeping ideas within you and presenting it to someone. I found that once you present it to someone, the idea gets even more embedded in your system. You can then, live and breathe, what you previously just felt. And since an audience is difficult to find in this busy world, you need to create one for yourself. And moreover, words are too powerful a tool to be used just as a refuge from bad times; they have such power as to form relationships and even break them, to mould opinions and what not. They might even be a last resort for a lover hoping to bring back his beloved. So I would rather use words in their form in which they are mightier than swords than to seek their help only in times of distress.

But I would make it amply clear that THIS IS MY BLOG. This is not some place where I would say what people want me to say, or what I am expected to say. There are few people who live life by their own terms; they are the luckiest. I may not be in their league completely but most certainly wish to have some space for myself. So no Gail Wynand-ish tricks to make it Banner-like, thus not giving the readers what they desire but what I truly feel. It might sound Charles Foster Kane-ish if I go on to put up my Declaration of Principles now, so I would only declare that I will try to be as original as I can and never ever compromise on my principles.

I dedicate this space to my Ego. But I also dedicate it to the reader’s worthy of it. Self confidence is good, but self-confidence coupled with an unwillingness to change can be destructive. That is where the worthy reader’s come in. I would be grateful for their comments and consider them if they can make me see something new.

Coming back to the question I started with, I would like the reader judge for themselves and form an opinion about the blogger. Some basic information about me would include me being deeply irreligious. I feel at odds to believe in a superpower just to have the feel of an elder brother who will take care of all your worries. I despise such an attitude and will deal with it in some blog. This is a natural fallout of me being a Rationalist. I believe in the value of back-breaking work and feel that it is the easiest thing to do as it requires no help from another’s side. Only then can you be truly self-reliant. I believe in forming relationships rather than networks in today’s purposive world. I try to be different. I try to be good. To be great, maybe. Some questions did get raised on me trying to be all such things and not inherently being those. But I can, without batting an eyelid, still stand by my words. Maybe I was not fortunate enough to be born with such traits. But I take immense pride and my ego overflows with a feeling of joy when I think that I am atleast making an effort, atleast moving forward in my quest to be myself. I most earnestly believe that underneath all of us lies excellence. Beneath all of us is a ROARK, the ideal, and all we can be is a Dominique Francon and seek that ideal, that utopia, that perfection. So why be shy of pursuing it?????????