37) Paper plane
I want to tell you,
What I think about you,
And then face your retort.
And I can take it
Self deprecating humor
With a smile.
Except this is no joke
At least for me,
But I can pretend.
My eyes tell the truth
But it’s a strange world,
Even black & white is misunderstood.
Maybe it’s just another game
Between two people,
The winner can just walk away.
Once I lost a paper plane,
Had aimed it too high
And in a chemistry class, I learnt
Tears are salty water drops fallen from eyes,
But there are other ways to shed,
So standing still, I waved.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
36) Once again?
36) Once again?
Cry again cry,
Try to catch fire.
Laugh again laugh,
To hide sorrowful tears.
Kiss again kiss,
Keep falling in love.
Paste together, paste
Broken pieces of heart.
Waste time, waste,
To become a poet.
Wash again wash,
To clear smears of sin.
Run again run,
To escape all fears.
Think again think,
Try to understand the world.
Wish again wish,
For a wonderful tomorrow.
Die just once die,
When you run out of clichés.
Cry again cry,
Try to catch fire.
Laugh again laugh,
To hide sorrowful tears.
Kiss again kiss,
Keep falling in love.
Paste together, paste
Broken pieces of heart.
Waste time, waste,
To become a poet.
Wash again wash,
To clear smears of sin.
Run again run,
To escape all fears.
Think again think,
Try to understand the world.
Wish again wish,
For a wonderful tomorrow.
Die just once die,
When you run out of clichés.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
35) Normal
35) Normal
I took a bath
To stop being a natures freak
Called home
With a sense of guilt.
Smiled, made small talk
For a list of friends,
In my telephone book,
I am no longer a loner.
Torn away posters, swept
Corners of my room
Hung curtains of matching color and
Wait for visitors, who talk about weather.
Painted my nails and a blank expression
Carry along in a handbag concerned voice.
‘You look respectable now’, compliments
My neighborhood shopping mall.
Now laugh derisively at my third dimension,
Whom I rejected, left behind
To be happy, to be together, and
Except for a warped shadow, I am normal.
I took a bath
To stop being a natures freak
Called home
With a sense of guilt.
Smiled, made small talk
For a list of friends,
In my telephone book,
I am no longer a loner.
Torn away posters, swept
Corners of my room
Hung curtains of matching color and
Wait for visitors, who talk about weather.
Painted my nails and a blank expression
Carry along in a handbag concerned voice.
‘You look respectable now’, compliments
My neighborhood shopping mall.
Now laugh derisively at my third dimension,
Whom I rejected, left behind
To be happy, to be together, and
Except for a warped shadow, I am normal.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
34) Night study
34) Night study
Stack of papers,
Scattered books,
Pens and empty cups of coffee,
Lie all around me.
The clock ticks faster,
The books grow fatter,
And an insect miles away,
Disturbs me greatly.
My eyes are aching,
And joints are squeaking,
Unless I rest, I know,
I’ll be taken ill, now.
But I just can’t rest,
Even for a while, stop;
Because looms large shadows,
Of teachers, parents and peers.
Stack of papers,
Scattered books,
Pens and empty cups of coffee,
Lie all around me.
The clock ticks faster,
The books grow fatter,
And an insect miles away,
Disturbs me greatly.
My eyes are aching,
And joints are squeaking,
Unless I rest, I know,
I’ll be taken ill, now.
But I just can’t rest,
Even for a while, stop;
Because looms large shadows,
Of teachers, parents and peers.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
33) New Cult
33) New Cult
I had a friend, ‘X’
Fiery and determined,
For half of us ‘X’ was scary,
And the other half thought as crazy.
‘X’ always wanted,
Every answer, ecstasy,
The clear cut path to truth,
And the eternal companion, provider, peace.
In the last three years,
‘X’ had changed,
A cross for a skull cap,
Then saffron and threads,
And many other strange motif’s.
Really, it was to stop,
A conversion attempt,
Into X’s new cult, that I gave,
A cloth covered frame and a ritual; saying,
“Whenever you want something,
Just look at the frame
And pray for its blessings,
But promise you will have to, first
Never to open the cover and peep
At the Framed God inside”;
X got immediately converted.
I had a friend, ‘X’
Who, yesterday committed suicide,
I should never have given her,
The concept of framed mirror as God,
“Oh, Mirrorgod, please forgive”.
I had a friend, ‘X’
Fiery and determined,
For half of us ‘X’ was scary,
And the other half thought as crazy.
‘X’ always wanted,
Every answer, ecstasy,
The clear cut path to truth,
And the eternal companion, provider, peace.
In the last three years,
‘X’ had changed,
A cross for a skull cap,
Then saffron and threads,
And many other strange motif’s.
Really, it was to stop,
A conversion attempt,
Into X’s new cult, that I gave,
A cloth covered frame and a ritual; saying,
“Whenever you want something,
Just look at the frame
And pray for its blessings,
But promise you will have to, first
Never to open the cover and peep
At the Framed God inside”;
X got immediately converted.
I had a friend, ‘X’
Who, yesterday committed suicide,
I should never have given her,
The concept of framed mirror as God,
“Oh, Mirrorgod, please forgive”.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
32) Neither Head nor Tail..
32) Neither Head nor Tail..
I see her the goddess of beauty..
But when I looked behind the smile ..
I saw a child's innocence and
A little sadness also covering those eyes..
Showing me that they have seen the world.
A posture of confidence
It looks like on the photograph..
But when I held my heart and observed,
I could see the her hands on the earth,
To balance herself a bit.
Now I am able to realize
Her heart is so pure,
And she keeps it like an open door
And I feel like telling her,
It might let in joy as well as sorrow...
Yes.. Her silky smooth strands of hair..
Fly with the wind and
Dance with her thoughts,
But does that freedom mean
They know where to go as well?
And the smoothness of her limbs,
Seemed like molded in marble,
But also makes one afraid of letting
Things slip away too much, and even wonder
That they are made to admire and not feel.
And, there are two sides to a coin they say…
But I want to be the third side of the coin,
Which feels and analyzes as well;
Once in a million tosses my side comes up,
Neither head nor tail...
I see her the goddess of beauty..
But when I looked behind the smile ..
I saw a child's innocence and
A little sadness also covering those eyes..
Showing me that they have seen the world.
A posture of confidence
It looks like on the photograph..
But when I held my heart and observed,
I could see the her hands on the earth,
To balance herself a bit.
Now I am able to realize
Her heart is so pure,
And she keeps it like an open door
And I feel like telling her,
It might let in joy as well as sorrow...
Yes.. Her silky smooth strands of hair..
Fly with the wind and
Dance with her thoughts,
But does that freedom mean
They know where to go as well?
And the smoothness of her limbs,
Seemed like molded in marble,
But also makes one afraid of letting
Things slip away too much, and even wonder
That they are made to admire and not feel.
And, there are two sides to a coin they say…
But I want to be the third side of the coin,
Which feels and analyzes as well;
Once in a million tosses my side comes up,
Neither head nor tail...
more on mental health
...mental health remains a neglected area world over, and more so in undeveloped countries... but for me a favorite area. why so? that i am still trying to figure out.
anyway, there are some encouraging happenings at WHO, such as 'no health without mental health', and increased pressure to make mental health aspects part of of global health etc are occurring.
a book "donde no hey doctor", (where there is no doctor), had become a champion of poor/undeveloped parts of the world - for their health/doctor needs - similarly another book, 'where there is no psychiatrist" has come out, which another promising sign.
though when i see people putting in lots of efforts to achieve / succeed BUT neglect mental health aspects such as managing their stress and thus dig their own grave, i can't help but feel confused. many such people achieved a lot, but somehow are unable to prioritize their mental health needs appropriately.
a very good example i can think of right now is, students who are slogging to get good marks / grades in their exams. a common complaint they have or their close one's have is - he/she is good student but gets too stressed. but when stress management inputs are given, these students often tend to neglect practicing it... which is very similar to what adults do too - they complain of stress, even have fatal health problems like heart diseases or BP etc... but still start neglecting their mental health within no time of their treatment.
addictions are another aspect of health - and deaddiction (addiction treatment) falls under mental health area. tobacco addiction even though being shown to be a major killer (the biggest stoppable cause of death among humans now) is very neglected thing - and in a very 'cutting-the-branch-you-are-sitting' manner, governments tend to focus on economic benefits (short term) from tobacco industry instead.
maybe 'military intelligence' is not oxymoron, its mental-health intelligence. ;)
anyway, there are some encouraging happenings at WHO, such as 'no health without mental health', and increased pressure to make mental health aspects part of of global health etc are occurring.
a book "donde no hey doctor", (where there is no doctor), had become a champion of poor/undeveloped parts of the world - for their health/doctor needs - similarly another book, 'where there is no psychiatrist" has come out, which another promising sign.
though when i see people putting in lots of efforts to achieve / succeed BUT neglect mental health aspects such as managing their stress and thus dig their own grave, i can't help but feel confused. many such people achieved a lot, but somehow are unable to prioritize their mental health needs appropriately.
a very good example i can think of right now is, students who are slogging to get good marks / grades in their exams. a common complaint they have or their close one's have is - he/she is good student but gets too stressed. but when stress management inputs are given, these students often tend to neglect practicing it... which is very similar to what adults do too - they complain of stress, even have fatal health problems like heart diseases or BP etc... but still start neglecting their mental health within no time of their treatment.
addictions are another aspect of health - and deaddiction (addiction treatment) falls under mental health area. tobacco addiction even though being shown to be a major killer (the biggest stoppable cause of death among humans now) is very neglected thing - and in a very 'cutting-the-branch-you-are-sitting' manner, governments tend to focus on economic benefits (short term) from tobacco industry instead.
maybe 'military intelligence' is not oxymoron, its mental-health intelligence. ;)
Friday, June 10, 2011
31) Nandini
31) Nandini
From birth to four,
She was just a child like all
Cared and fussed over,
Maybe her cry was more shrill.
After four, she was tied,
From waist below, a skirt,
Without knowing what it hid,
She was made to feel, from then, guilt.
At fourteen, with a new ritual,
She was given half saree and blouse,
And told to be shy and sensible,
But still, scaring her, men began to notice.
At twenty, after usual cries,
She left home with a strange man,
Soon, felt a mother in her rise,
After the usual pain, another girl was born.
Nandini, she was named,
After The divine cow and her grandmother,
Bright eyes and free spirit she inherited;
From mother,
Who lost them, at the age of four.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
30) Moon & the cloud
30) Moon & the cloud
You don’t say a word,
Still tease…
And roll your iris
Craze, confuse, daze
Like the full moon,
That clouds chase.
Maybe never to meet,
Away from you,
Forever a part of the night,
Becoz it’s your light
Which reflects,
Makes me distinct
Maybe I will reach,
Touch, When you
Stand still in one place
And dissipate,
In a sparkling haze
In to the void space.
You don’t say a word,
Still tease…
And roll your iris
Craze, confuse, daze
Like the full moon,
That clouds chase.
Maybe never to meet,
Away from you,
Forever a part of the night,
Becoz it’s your light
Which reflects,
Makes me distinct
Maybe I will reach,
Touch, When you
Stand still in one place
And dissipate,
In a sparkling haze
In to the void space.
Monday, June 06, 2011
29) Meeting
29) Meeting
Between huge rocks,
I met her,
Wearing a sparkling
Robe all over,
She was chattering ceaselessly,
But only when I listened carefully,
Heard I the voice of her secret admirer,
The calm, cold river.
But like every first time lover,
He is afraid, and have never
Called out her name aloud,
So they have never met,
He only flows by her foaming feet.
Between huge rocks,
I met her,
Wearing a sparkling
Robe all over,
She was chattering ceaselessly,
But only when I listened carefully,
Heard I the voice of her secret admirer,
The calm, cold river.
But like every first time lover,
He is afraid, and have never
Called out her name aloud,
So they have never met,
He only flows by her foaming feet.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
28) Married man’s poem
28) Married man’s poem
My heart beats like thunder,
Only for you my dear,
I wish I could come like lightning,
To see you, my darling.
Then we will go out of town,
On our second honeymoon,
I’ll be ready with the dough,
To any place you wish to go.
Won’t you stand on the steps,
With your palm over your eyes,
Waiting for me sweetie,
Wearing that white saree.
I’ll come running,
In my arms, bags bulging,
With things, just for you,
All bearing my love, oh so true.
My heart beats like thunder,
Only for you my dear,
I wish I could come like lightning,
To see you, my darling.
Then we will go out of town,
On our second honeymoon,
I’ll be ready with the dough,
To any place you wish to go.
Won’t you stand on the steps,
With your palm over your eyes,
Waiting for me sweetie,
Wearing that white saree.
I’ll come running,
In my arms, bags bulging,
With things, just for you,
All bearing my love, oh so true.
27) Lyrics for ‘S’
27) Lyrics for ‘S’
Shaded with petals
She swings and turns around
Carelessly, as if in her mothers lap
‘A valley’.
Swaying in a way that
Sows contentment, as if after
A fest, in the middle of old friends
‘A river’.
Take a break.. to see
Such nature’s creations,
With a pat, said my friend,
And took away those two photos.
I just turned around to see
The shine of a million rainbows
Interspersed with pearly shells,
‘Her eyes’.
Shaded with petals
She swings and turns around
Carelessly, as if in her mothers lap
‘A valley’.
Swaying in a way that
Sows contentment, as if after
A fest, in the middle of old friends
‘A river’.
Take a break.. to see
Such nature’s creations,
With a pat, said my friend,
And took away those two photos.
I just turned around to see
The shine of a million rainbows
Interspersed with pearly shells,
‘Her eyes’.
Friday, June 03, 2011
26) Loner’s Song
26) Loner’s Song
City lights blinking me goodbye,
A lone star shining in the sky,
Moving with the partly hidden moon,
Praying for that Nirvana, alone.
Lonely roads that stretch ahead of me,
Through the dim colors that I can see,
Away from those scarred memories,
Broken laughter and mute cries.
Wandering birds with me fly,
Stop sometimes for mates and prey,
But walk I towards you last moon,
Praying for that Nirvana, alone.
Grass roots and the yellow leaves,
Wait for the winds of love,
But long ago, waved I goodbye,
Left them to rot and die.
City lights blinking me goodbye,
A lone star shining in the sky,
Moving with the partly hidden moon,
Praying for that Nirvana, alone.
Lonely roads that stretch ahead of me,
Through the dim colors that I can see,
Away from those scarred memories,
Broken laughter and mute cries.
Wandering birds with me fly,
Stop sometimes for mates and prey,
But walk I towards you last moon,
Praying for that Nirvana, alone.
Grass roots and the yellow leaves,
Wait for the winds of love,
But long ago, waved I goodbye,
Left them to rot and die.
Thursday, June 02, 2011
25) Laments - II
25) Laments - II
In the story of my life,
I always fell in love with
Somebody else’s girl,
In all my odysseys Pretty faces
Always rocked my boat,
And every time, my heart broke,
I cried more and more,
Still more then ever, I yearn,
Somebody to call, my own, my own.
Till death do us unite:
Waiting for the embrace of death,
Till stops beating my broken heart,
Dreaming about that heaven above earth,
Where you and me are going to meet,
Stay close to me from the start, dear,
There, there nothing will break us apart.
Unrelated:
Are you for real or a vision,
Or have I died and gone to heaven,
Wow ! there she is,
A whole skeleton,
Yes, in a poetic dream, I had been a dog.
In the story of my life,
I always fell in love with
Somebody else’s girl,
In all my odysseys Pretty faces
Always rocked my boat,
And every time, my heart broke,
I cried more and more,
Still more then ever, I yearn,
Somebody to call, my own, my own.
Till death do us unite:
Waiting for the embrace of death,
Till stops beating my broken heart,
Dreaming about that heaven above earth,
Where you and me are going to meet,
Stay close to me from the start, dear,
There, there nothing will break us apart.
Unrelated:
Are you for real or a vision,
Or have I died and gone to heaven,
Wow ! there she is,
A whole skeleton,
Yes, in a poetic dream, I had been a dog.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
24) Laments - I
24) Laments - I
Dream girl:
A philosopher woman, with a beautiful face,
Can feel pity and confuse it with love,
God must have made one,
But there are too many fools.
Don’t know what draws me toward you,
Don’t know why you remain aloof,
But don’t change, I am used to it,
Living alone with a broken heart.
I have nothing else to offer,
So I’ll have to throw it away,
It has become a burden,
Oh ! love so pure.
Beautiful eyes, don’t stop me,
Mesmerizing smiles, don’t fool me,
Entrancing words, don’t make me your prey,
Because I want to finish, alone; this journey.
Dream girl:
A philosopher woman, with a beautiful face,
Can feel pity and confuse it with love,
God must have made one,
But there are too many fools.
Don’t know what draws me toward you,
Don’t know why you remain aloof,
But don’t change, I am used to it,
Living alone with a broken heart.
I have nothing else to offer,
So I’ll have to throw it away,
It has become a burden,
Oh ! love so pure.
Beautiful eyes, don’t stop me,
Mesmerizing smiles, don’t fool me,
Entrancing words, don’t make me your prey,
Because I want to finish, alone; this journey.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
22) Indecision
22) Indecision
Racing thoughts bewitch me
And my lost soul bemoans,
Lack of decisiveness
And lost opportunities.
Ran I through life so far,
Like a horse –
Whose tied in front,
In a stick, temptation.
Caught up with I’ve many,
But countless are they,
Care not now, I for anything,
Cause come to realize, I have,
Contain they nothing; but emptiness.
But confounds it me, still
With one last dilemma,
Kill I should myself, or not,
Can you please decide, for me?
Racing thoughts bewitch me
And my lost soul bemoans,
Lack of decisiveness
And lost opportunities.
Ran I through life so far,
Like a horse –
Whose tied in front,
In a stick, temptation.
Caught up with I’ve many,
But countless are they,
Care not now, I for anything,
Cause come to realize, I have,
Contain they nothing; but emptiness.
But confounds it me, still
With one last dilemma,
Kill I should myself, or not,
Can you please decide, for me?
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
21) In Bollywood
21) In Bollywood
When I am with her
She’s every star
I ever dreamed of.
Things transform to
A perfect location
The week’s top
Love song plays.
She smiles when my breath
Caress her face,
And shampooed hair bounces,
Faultless skin shines.
And then she leaves, a tragic
Scene after a dream sequence
Everyone is waiting, munching
Popcorn, for the ending.
When I am with her
She’s every star
I ever dreamed of.
Things transform to
A perfect location
The week’s top
Love song plays.
She smiles when my breath
Caress her face,
And shampooed hair bounces,
Faultless skin shines.
And then she leaves, a tragic
Scene after a dream sequence
Everyone is waiting, munching
Popcorn, for the ending.
Monday, May 09, 2011
20) Ideals
20) Ideals
I wanna girl like my morning dreams,
Who laughs at life and philosophize,
Crazy and searching for true love,
Sad and trying to find out who she is,
A girl like me.
If you always carry in your eyes,
The searchers look and child’s laughter,
Don’t let me walk past you,
I don’t know you, Don’t know myself,
Come and tell me if you feel the same way,
Oh, a girl like me….
Afore we meet in lovers paradise,
May bring us together, chance wanderlust,
Am keeping my heart closed, till then, hey girl,
For a girl like you..
I wanna girl like my morning dreams,
Who laughs at life and philosophize,
Crazy and searching for true love,
Sad and trying to find out who she is,
A girl like me.
If you always carry in your eyes,
The searchers look and child’s laughter,
Don’t let me walk past you,
I don’t know you, Don’t know myself,
Come and tell me if you feel the same way,
Oh, a girl like me….
Afore we meet in lovers paradise,
May bring us together, chance wanderlust,
Am keeping my heart closed, till then, hey girl,
For a girl like you..
Sunday, May 08, 2011
19) Heart’s Song
19) Heart’s Song
Oh ! he doesn’t show,
Yeah ! how much he love,
But I am his heart,
And know the truth,
Don’t be a fool, he loves you girl.
Every time you meet,
I feel the ache,
And every time you part,
I hear his tears, falling on the floor;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
When ever he faces you,
Talks he with only eyes,
And a thousand love words,
Have died on his lips;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
Worships he from a distance,
You like a true goddess,
Keeps he deep hidden,
Love sign and roses;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
Oh ! he doesn’t show,
Yeah ! how much he love,
But I am his heart,
And know the truth,
Don’t be a fool, he loves you girl.
Every time you meet,
I feel the ache,
And every time you part,
I hear his tears, falling on the floor;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
When ever he faces you,
Talks he with only eyes,
And a thousand love words,
Have died on his lips;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
Worships he from a distance,
You like a true goddess,
Keeps he deep hidden,
Love sign and roses;
Don’t be fool, he loves you girl.
a song lyrics translation: from Tamil to English
translation of a Tamil song lyrics into English:
(disclaimer - Tamil is not exactly my mother tongue, so this is an novice attempt
only - i got this song on the net, and wanted my non-tamil speaking friends to appreciate it, that's why i dared to do this translation)
......info regarding this song (as i found on a website):
Song : Nee Ninaindhal
Genre : Carnatic/Devotional/South Indian Classical
Raga : Jonpuri/Darbari Kanada.
Tala : Adi
Lyrics : Periasamy Thooran
Performers : Vandana Iyer, Vidhya Iyer with Shankar Tucker
links:
http://slogasintamil.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky9SatRoyCY&feature=share
song lyrics with translation:
1st stanza:
Nee ninaindal agathadu undo
(if you wish nothings impossible)
(Nee=you, ninaindal=wish/think, agathadu=impossible/not happening, undo=is there)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
(lotus petal eyed, mahalakshmi)
(neeraja=lotus flower, dala=petal, nayani=eyed/having eyes like, Mahalakshmi=name of a godess from hindu mythology)
2nd stanza:
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam
(in human life, there's happiness and sadness)
(maanida=human, vazhkayile=life, inba-tumbam=happiness-sadness/+ve -ve
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
(these changes/ cycles are your doing only)
maari=change/alternate, varuvadum=happening, un=your, seyal=doing, anro=is
3rd stanza:
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
(even if all things/luxuries are there, though)
ella=all, perumaingalum=luxuries/things,irundalum=to have, athu=though
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
(without bowing to you, they wont remain)
unnadi=to you, vanangamal=bowing, nilai=stay, perumo=remain.
stanza 4:
unnarul parvai illada varku
(those who dont have your blessing/benevolence)
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
(have no way to live in this world, Amma)
ulagile=in this world, vazha=to live, vazhi=way, ethu=which/how, Amma=Mother- here the Godess Mahalakshmi is addressed as Holy Mother.
..... wrote all this for friends who wanted to sing along with this song, even though they didn't know Tamil. of course, for them to sing along, the whole song lyrics, as its sung in this song, (repeated at times):
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(2)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
maanida vazhkayile inba-tunbam(1)
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam(2)
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam (3)
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
unnarul parvai illada varku (1)
unnarul parvai illada varku (2)
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
unnarul parvai illada varku
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
.......that's it ;) (and this but a rough translation, Mind it ;)
(disclaimer - Tamil is not exactly my mother tongue, so this is an novice attempt
only - i got this song on the net, and wanted my non-tamil speaking friends to appreciate it, that's why i dared to do this translation)
......info regarding this song (as i found on a website):
Song : Nee Ninaindhal
Genre : Carnatic/Devotional/South Indian Classical
Raga : Jonpuri/Darbari Kanada.
Tala : Adi
Lyrics : Periasamy Thooran
Performers : Vandana Iyer, Vidhya Iyer with Shankar Tucker
links:
http://slogasintamil.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky9SatRoyCY&feature=share
song lyrics with translation:
1st stanza:
Nee ninaindal agathadu undo
(if you wish nothings impossible)
(Nee=you, ninaindal=wish/think, agathadu=impossible/not happening, undo=is there)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
(lotus petal eyed, mahalakshmi)
(neeraja=lotus flower, dala=petal, nayani=eyed/having eyes like, Mahalakshmi=name of a godess from hindu mythology)
2nd stanza:
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam
(in human life, there's happiness and sadness)
(maanida=human, vazhkayile=life, inba-tumbam=happiness-sadness/+ve -ve
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
(these changes/ cycles are your doing only)
maari=change/alternate, varuvadum=happening, un=your, seyal=doing, anro=is
3rd stanza:
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
(even if all things/luxuries are there, though)
ella=all, perumaingalum=luxuries/things,irundalum=to have, athu=though
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
(without bowing to you, they wont remain)
unnadi=to you, vanangamal=bowing, nilai=stay, perumo=remain.
stanza 4:
unnarul parvai illada varku
(those who dont have your blessing/benevolence)
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
(have no way to live in this world, Amma)
ulagile=in this world, vazha=to live, vazhi=way, ethu=which/how, Amma=Mother- here the Godess Mahalakshmi is addressed as Holy Mother.
..... wrote all this for friends who wanted to sing along with this song, even though they didn't know Tamil. of course, for them to sing along, the whole song lyrics, as its sung in this song, (repeated at times):
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(2)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
maanida vazhkayile inba-tunbam(1)
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam(2)
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam (3)
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
maanida vazh-kayile inba-tunbam
maari maari varuvadum un seyal anro
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
ella perumaigalum irundalum athu
unnadi vanangamal nilai perumo
unnarul parvai illada varku (1)
unnarul parvai illada varku (2)
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
unnarul parvai illada varku
ulagile vazha vazhi ethu, Amma
nee ninainthal agathadu undo(1)
neeraja dala nayani, mahalakshmi
nee ninainthal agathadu undo
.......that's it ;) (and this but a rough translation, Mind it ;)
Saturday, May 07, 2011
18) Guilt
18) Guilt
Move afar, can’t you smell,
The wolf that sniffs,
It’s sharp nails,
Will tear your body.
Keep silence, can’t you see
The bear that wakes,
It’s huge hands,
Will crush your body.
Don’t touch, can’t you feel
The snake that crawls,
It’s poisonous lips,
Will burn your body.
Run away, can’t you hear
The hoof beats of ram,
It’s upturned horns,
Will bruise your body.
Stay away, can’t you imagine,
The conditioned mind,
It’s guilty thoughts,
Will scar your memory, for life.
Move afar, can’t you smell,
The wolf that sniffs,
It’s sharp nails,
Will tear your body.
Keep silence, can’t you see
The bear that wakes,
It’s huge hands,
Will crush your body.
Don’t touch, can’t you feel
The snake that crawls,
It’s poisonous lips,
Will burn your body.
Run away, can’t you hear
The hoof beats of ram,
It’s upturned horns,
Will bruise your body.
Stay away, can’t you imagine,
The conditioned mind,
It’s guilty thoughts,
Will scar your memory, for life.
Friday, May 06, 2011
short story 2- engineering student
Engineering Student
All engineering students smoke cigarettes, told my Mech. Roommate,
handing me a long, white one. ‘Haven’t you seen around?’ Till then I
had tried smoking only once, my uncle’s foul smelling bidi. But now
in this hostel room of my engineering college it seemed alluring. I
did regret accepting that fag, as I learned the slang for cigarette,
which made me cough and tearful and an amusing story for my roommate
to spread around about his ‘ghati’ (again a slang for naive or
unsophisticated) roommate. Yes, that was me, the first one from my
family to pass 10th standard exam and 2 years later get admission in a
far away engineering college.
I was always a loner. In my village, shunted because I was far ahead
academically there and in here because I am far below in
sophistication and coolness. I am also falling behind academically;
everything is becoming more confusing. I am unable to understand what
my classmates do to manage so many activities together. During
daytime it’s bunking lectures and hanging out in the canteen and at
night going out with girls wearing shockingly short and tight dresses
or partying in somebody’s room and keeping awake half the hostel.
For the first time in my life I started hating my slim, wiry frame,
my dark colored skin. My lousy clothes and white rain shoes which I
thought as hip when I bought them from the town Parnala, near my
village turned traitors and pointed me out for every one as the crude
village idiot and sneer at. And money, it haunted me day and night.
After two terms in college I could have faced all the ghosts in my
village together, but everyone in my family at village refused to
understand my plight, they had remained as village idiots all their
life and also force me to remain one. “You are not supposed to talk to
elder’s like that” or “is this why we sent you to the college?” was
their final statement. By the end of my third term, I was almost
crazee trying to find ways to earn some extra money decently, so that
I won’t have to borrow a few puffs from my hostel mates or have a
peaceful drink at least sometimes.
Things turned when news came from village that my grand uncle is
seriously ill. I left for village immediately as I knew this will
spark few fights for divisions, as most people in my village died
without leaving a will. He was dead and burned by the time reached my
bullock-cart village. There was already tension regarding division of
land etc. And I sensed opportunity and did my best to bring about a
division. After all, I have reached age of legal maturity. I missed
my third term exams, but didn’t miss out on the land deal, though so
many of my uncle’s were selling land after the division the price’s
had gone down. It fetched me a decent amount and I returned to hostel
as a hero. Now I had enough money to enjoy the tid -bits of life.
When you have money then it’s amazing how easy you can deal with
practicals, journals and exams. I always found a bar more soothing
than library to cool off during my next two term examinations and the
waiters were so understanding. But now my backlog was a total mess.
Even though I got one of my journals written by paying a student to do
it, nobody could help me to fill my term admission form as I didn’t
know which subjects I had opted and should opt for. My department
head was also pestering me and I decided to take a break from college.
I had enough of that dreary place, same old faces, same old nervous
freshies, and these days everyone seems so intense and sincere. There
were no fun people anymore out there.
Outside world was like a fresh breeze for me, I found my own room
near the town and I had more privacy, no nosy wardens and no headaches
of college. By now, I had cut off all contacts with my family
members. But living out of college also meant higher living expenses.
Soon I had to leave the town as the people who I owed money started
pestering me.
The new town was bigger and more expensive. But getting a motor bike
was so easy. I could own one by paying a fraction of the actual price
and pay the rest in installments. Zooming around in my bike like the
hero’s I had seen in movies; those were the best days of my life.
But one night that stupid bike slipped and fell, and my leg got
fractured and I had to stay in hospital for a month. The police
troubled me and tried to extract every penny for not charging me with
drunken driving and finally left me alone when I told them I am all
alone and broke and don’t mend spending time in jail. And there was
this one physiotherapist who tried to talk me out of addictions and
prodded me to do all those painful exercises to make my leg better. I
would have listened to him had he not told me about joining his cult,
whose members I had seen enough for a lifetime during my hostel days.
If the ward attendants there couldn’t have smuggled in the stuff I
needed every night I would have crawled out of that filthy place. It
was the longest month in my life.
My inheritance had disappeared so quickly. I had to look for cheaper
housing and I ended up in a hutment area where the rent was cheap and
cheap liquor plenty. Even at those cheap rates just after 23 days of
living in that hut, I was completely broke. Again, my clothes and
appearance became my enemies when I tried to borrow money. People
generally tend to be rude to a person whose appearance is shabby. I
had grown a bear and had only shabby clothes to wear. I had stopped
spending on all non-essential things and on top of that, my accident
had left a live scar and a limp. Now people started treating me like
a cripple. I couldn’t control myself if I didn’t have a drink or two
now and then. Finally, I decided to look for a job.
The only job with dignity, which offered to me, was that of a trainee
mechanic. But I had to take it, as could easily get petrol to drink
if I didn’t have money for alcohol. My engineering background helped
me to learn about repairs quickly. But sooner or later, one of my
drinking spells would be too much for my boss to bear and I would
start looking for another job. My reputation as a good mechanic and
worst drunkard grew quickly. But by now, I had mastered the art of
shifting from one town to another. It was my third town that year; I
had found a very good place to work. It was a large junkyard and a
huge garage. I had found a girl to stay with me also. Though
everyone called her crazy idiot, she could cook well and asked me no
questions and was very comforting during my crying spells when ghosts
from past came to haunt me, even alcohol couldn’t stop them and they
substituted for my violent spells. The crying spells were much better
because nobody hit back or fired me for that. For the first time in
my life, I had started saving up money for the future. But the past
was something I couldn’t do anything about. Those wasted chances to
make it big in college; it seemed I was condemned to live with people
who always want to remain idiots all their life.
It had rained in that night of December 31st and dampened the New Year
festive spirit of many. I had gone to work as usual. Most of my
co-workers were sleeping off their hangovers after the New Year
drinking spell. It was a good opportunity to scourge the junkyard to
see if I could find something small and valuable. It was tedious
working in the rain soaked piles. After some futile searching I saw a
funny type of wire structure with a working digital clock attached to
it. But the clock was not showing time but the date, month and year.
I tried to pull out that contraption but it was all mingled up. I
started prying it out but slipped and fell down into the mass of
wires. I was shocked-literally as electric currents started flowing
though the wires. A pad of lighted switches slid out from the digital
clock. My curiosity over came the mild current and confusion. I
fiddled with the lighted switches, and the date, which came out in the
digital clock, was the first day of my engineering college. Tears
rolled down my eyes and another crying spell started… How I wished I
could go back to that day again. My body writhed out of my control as
it happens during my spell and I fell unconscious as I received a big
jolt of electricity.
When I came to my senses it was night and I was in a strange railway
station. No, it was early morning and the railway station was the one
near my old engineering college. Somebody offered me a coin. I was
too shocked to refuse. After some time, I felt my senses coming back
to me, and I walked to the nearest book shop and bought the newly
arrived English daily. Now people started watching me curiously. I
read out the date and day first and couldn’t believe it. I had gone
back in time and it was exactly the first day of my engineering
college. According to the time shown on the huge station clock, I had
reached my hostel room and would have finished unpacking. My brain
began to race. I sat down near the station entrance, put the unfolded
paper in front of me and started begging...
It took me more than a week to get enough money for decent second
hand clothes so that I can walk in to even a college campus
unobtrusively without everyone staring at me. That one week also gave
enough time to plan what I should do. I went to my hostel room in the
afternoon, and without hesitation knocked loudly. There he was!! The
younger me opened the door apprehensively and after one look at me
started reciting the hostel anthem. It was the ragging season and I
still knew the whole anthem even now. My other self forgot the anthem
in the middle of a swear word and stared stupidly at me. I entered
the room and closed the door and told him to relax. Fortunately, his
room mate was out. It took me around an hour to explain him the
things. I knew he would believe; I would have in his age.
I started working in a garage nearby and we started planning together.
Teaching him about coolness was the toughest part, that it was
nothing but how you feel about yourself and nothing about what others
think. His insecurity and lack of confidence made me to forcefully
change him. I knew it was just a question of time for him to learn
about it himself, but I didn’t have that much time. By the third term
he was prepared and had improved dramatically from his awkward
appearance, academics and my leg and our English improved. We had
long discussions as how to invest the money he received from his
family inheritance. I also knew that a first class or 60% every term
is the margin set by some multinational company’s who come for campus
selection to filter out the crowds, so we would do a lot of
discussions on that but I couldn’t help much in the way of giving him
old question papers as I had forgotten about them. It was the hard way
out for us, and we slogged together. I could help him to understand
to some extend the practical side of theory thanks to my experience as
a motor mechanic.
It was New Year again, after the long wait of four years. It had paid
off. He passed out with flying colors and grabbed a lucrative job in
a big MNC with a car and a flat. Today we are going to inspect the
flat together. I had already made some inquiries at few furniture
shops. But somehow I feel a little uneasy as my other self was not
very enthusiastic about taking me along to the new flat in the posh
housing blocks the company had built recently. But this New Year’s
Eve I am going to celebrate opulently with peace of mind in my own
house, come what may...
It was the first day of another year and Major Balram was standing on
the door of his train and enjoying the rush of air. The train was
slowing for another signal. Major looked around the familiar
territory. He was shocked to see the new building complex with a huge
logo of big MNC come up in one year. These MNC’s thought major sadly,
change things too fast. They were the grounds where he had learned
first lessons in martial arts, and it had become his passion and in
the army had made him a legend. “Major Balram can name a person by
looking at his shadow”, his superior had told while recommending him
to the chief commanding officer. Major shrugged those thoughts aside
and looked angrily at those jutting buildings. Two shadows fighting
in one of the few lighted flats caught his eye, this is a fight which
will end only at death, thought the major and he started betting with
himself.
As the Major watched, some thing confused him, the style and body
movements of the two shadows were so impossibly similar. Major was
sure that not even identical twin brothers could do that. Because of
the similarity the fight went on and on, both seemed to sense the
other person’s movements. The Major observed anxiously but the train
started moving away...
All engineering students smoke cigarettes, told my Mech. Roommate,
handing me a long, white one. ‘Haven’t you seen around?’ Till then I
had tried smoking only once, my uncle’s foul smelling bidi. But now
in this hostel room of my engineering college it seemed alluring. I
did regret accepting that fag, as I learned the slang for cigarette,
which made me cough and tearful and an amusing story for my roommate
to spread around about his ‘ghati’ (again a slang for naive or
unsophisticated) roommate. Yes, that was me, the first one from my
family to pass 10th standard exam and 2 years later get admission in a
far away engineering college.
I was always a loner. In my village, shunted because I was far ahead
academically there and in here because I am far below in
sophistication and coolness. I am also falling behind academically;
everything is becoming more confusing. I am unable to understand what
my classmates do to manage so many activities together. During
daytime it’s bunking lectures and hanging out in the canteen and at
night going out with girls wearing shockingly short and tight dresses
or partying in somebody’s room and keeping awake half the hostel.
For the first time in my life I started hating my slim, wiry frame,
my dark colored skin. My lousy clothes and white rain shoes which I
thought as hip when I bought them from the town Parnala, near my
village turned traitors and pointed me out for every one as the crude
village idiot and sneer at. And money, it haunted me day and night.
After two terms in college I could have faced all the ghosts in my
village together, but everyone in my family at village refused to
understand my plight, they had remained as village idiots all their
life and also force me to remain one. “You are not supposed to talk to
elder’s like that” or “is this why we sent you to the college?” was
their final statement. By the end of my third term, I was almost
crazee trying to find ways to earn some extra money decently, so that
I won’t have to borrow a few puffs from my hostel mates or have a
peaceful drink at least sometimes.
Things turned when news came from village that my grand uncle is
seriously ill. I left for village immediately as I knew this will
spark few fights for divisions, as most people in my village died
without leaving a will. He was dead and burned by the time reached my
bullock-cart village. There was already tension regarding division of
land etc. And I sensed opportunity and did my best to bring about a
division. After all, I have reached age of legal maturity. I missed
my third term exams, but didn’t miss out on the land deal, though so
many of my uncle’s were selling land after the division the price’s
had gone down. It fetched me a decent amount and I returned to hostel
as a hero. Now I had enough money to enjoy the tid -bits of life.
When you have money then it’s amazing how easy you can deal with
practicals, journals and exams. I always found a bar more soothing
than library to cool off during my next two term examinations and the
waiters were so understanding. But now my backlog was a total mess.
Even though I got one of my journals written by paying a student to do
it, nobody could help me to fill my term admission form as I didn’t
know which subjects I had opted and should opt for. My department
head was also pestering me and I decided to take a break from college.
I had enough of that dreary place, same old faces, same old nervous
freshies, and these days everyone seems so intense and sincere. There
were no fun people anymore out there.
Outside world was like a fresh breeze for me, I found my own room
near the town and I had more privacy, no nosy wardens and no headaches
of college. By now, I had cut off all contacts with my family
members. But living out of college also meant higher living expenses.
Soon I had to leave the town as the people who I owed money started
pestering me.
The new town was bigger and more expensive. But getting a motor bike
was so easy. I could own one by paying a fraction of the actual price
and pay the rest in installments. Zooming around in my bike like the
hero’s I had seen in movies; those were the best days of my life.
But one night that stupid bike slipped and fell, and my leg got
fractured and I had to stay in hospital for a month. The police
troubled me and tried to extract every penny for not charging me with
drunken driving and finally left me alone when I told them I am all
alone and broke and don’t mend spending time in jail. And there was
this one physiotherapist who tried to talk me out of addictions and
prodded me to do all those painful exercises to make my leg better. I
would have listened to him had he not told me about joining his cult,
whose members I had seen enough for a lifetime during my hostel days.
If the ward attendants there couldn’t have smuggled in the stuff I
needed every night I would have crawled out of that filthy place. It
was the longest month in my life.
My inheritance had disappeared so quickly. I had to look for cheaper
housing and I ended up in a hutment area where the rent was cheap and
cheap liquor plenty. Even at those cheap rates just after 23 days of
living in that hut, I was completely broke. Again, my clothes and
appearance became my enemies when I tried to borrow money. People
generally tend to be rude to a person whose appearance is shabby. I
had grown a bear and had only shabby clothes to wear. I had stopped
spending on all non-essential things and on top of that, my accident
had left a live scar and a limp. Now people started treating me like
a cripple. I couldn’t control myself if I didn’t have a drink or two
now and then. Finally, I decided to look for a job.
The only job with dignity, which offered to me, was that of a trainee
mechanic. But I had to take it, as could easily get petrol to drink
if I didn’t have money for alcohol. My engineering background helped
me to learn about repairs quickly. But sooner or later, one of my
drinking spells would be too much for my boss to bear and I would
start looking for another job. My reputation as a good mechanic and
worst drunkard grew quickly. But by now, I had mastered the art of
shifting from one town to another. It was my third town that year; I
had found a very good place to work. It was a large junkyard and a
huge garage. I had found a girl to stay with me also. Though
everyone called her crazy idiot, she could cook well and asked me no
questions and was very comforting during my crying spells when ghosts
from past came to haunt me, even alcohol couldn’t stop them and they
substituted for my violent spells. The crying spells were much better
because nobody hit back or fired me for that. For the first time in
my life, I had started saving up money for the future. But the past
was something I couldn’t do anything about. Those wasted chances to
make it big in college; it seemed I was condemned to live with people
who always want to remain idiots all their life.
It had rained in that night of December 31st and dampened the New Year
festive spirit of many. I had gone to work as usual. Most of my
co-workers were sleeping off their hangovers after the New Year
drinking spell. It was a good opportunity to scourge the junkyard to
see if I could find something small and valuable. It was tedious
working in the rain soaked piles. After some futile searching I saw a
funny type of wire structure with a working digital clock attached to
it. But the clock was not showing time but the date, month and year.
I tried to pull out that contraption but it was all mingled up. I
started prying it out but slipped and fell down into the mass of
wires. I was shocked-literally as electric currents started flowing
though the wires. A pad of lighted switches slid out from the digital
clock. My curiosity over came the mild current and confusion. I
fiddled with the lighted switches, and the date, which came out in the
digital clock, was the first day of my engineering college. Tears
rolled down my eyes and another crying spell started… How I wished I
could go back to that day again. My body writhed out of my control as
it happens during my spell and I fell unconscious as I received a big
jolt of electricity.
When I came to my senses it was night and I was in a strange railway
station. No, it was early morning and the railway station was the one
near my old engineering college. Somebody offered me a coin. I was
too shocked to refuse. After some time, I felt my senses coming back
to me, and I walked to the nearest book shop and bought the newly
arrived English daily. Now people started watching me curiously. I
read out the date and day first and couldn’t believe it. I had gone
back in time and it was exactly the first day of my engineering
college. According to the time shown on the huge station clock, I had
reached my hostel room and would have finished unpacking. My brain
began to race. I sat down near the station entrance, put the unfolded
paper in front of me and started begging...
It took me more than a week to get enough money for decent second
hand clothes so that I can walk in to even a college campus
unobtrusively without everyone staring at me. That one week also gave
enough time to plan what I should do. I went to my hostel room in the
afternoon, and without hesitation knocked loudly. There he was!! The
younger me opened the door apprehensively and after one look at me
started reciting the hostel anthem. It was the ragging season and I
still knew the whole anthem even now. My other self forgot the anthem
in the middle of a swear word and stared stupidly at me. I entered
the room and closed the door and told him to relax. Fortunately, his
room mate was out. It took me around an hour to explain him the
things. I knew he would believe; I would have in his age.
I started working in a garage nearby and we started planning together.
Teaching him about coolness was the toughest part, that it was
nothing but how you feel about yourself and nothing about what others
think. His insecurity and lack of confidence made me to forcefully
change him. I knew it was just a question of time for him to learn
about it himself, but I didn’t have that much time. By the third term
he was prepared and had improved dramatically from his awkward
appearance, academics and my leg and our English improved. We had
long discussions as how to invest the money he received from his
family inheritance. I also knew that a first class or 60% every term
is the margin set by some multinational company’s who come for campus
selection to filter out the crowds, so we would do a lot of
discussions on that but I couldn’t help much in the way of giving him
old question papers as I had forgotten about them. It was the hard way
out for us, and we slogged together. I could help him to understand
to some extend the practical side of theory thanks to my experience as
a motor mechanic.
It was New Year again, after the long wait of four years. It had paid
off. He passed out with flying colors and grabbed a lucrative job in
a big MNC with a car and a flat. Today we are going to inspect the
flat together. I had already made some inquiries at few furniture
shops. But somehow I feel a little uneasy as my other self was not
very enthusiastic about taking me along to the new flat in the posh
housing blocks the company had built recently. But this New Year’s
Eve I am going to celebrate opulently with peace of mind in my own
house, come what may...
It was the first day of another year and Major Balram was standing on
the door of his train and enjoying the rush of air. The train was
slowing for another signal. Major looked around the familiar
territory. He was shocked to see the new building complex with a huge
logo of big MNC come up in one year. These MNC’s thought major sadly,
change things too fast. They were the grounds where he had learned
first lessons in martial arts, and it had become his passion and in
the army had made him a legend. “Major Balram can name a person by
looking at his shadow”, his superior had told while recommending him
to the chief commanding officer. Major shrugged those thoughts aside
and looked angrily at those jutting buildings. Two shadows fighting
in one of the few lighted flats caught his eye, this is a fight which
will end only at death, thought the major and he started betting with
himself.
As the Major watched, some thing confused him, the style and body
movements of the two shadows were so impossibly similar. Major was
sure that not even identical twin brothers could do that. Because of
the similarity the fight went on and on, both seemed to sense the
other person’s movements. The Major observed anxiously but the train
started moving away...
short story 1-Two Steers
Two Steers
Carver died yesterday. It came as shock to me even though I was half expecting it. The bartender who told me about Carver’s death looked sad, sad that he had lost a regular customer. Carver wouldn’t have even one real friend, he was too sarcastic; “sorry, may his soul rest in peace, Hell!” I am becoming sentimental, that’s what Carver would’ve said, and that’s what he said, about eight years ago, in this same bar.
Those were the mid sixties, I was then struggling to make my ends meet, in the middle of my second book and in the middle of a countless writing block. The same bar, Two steers, where I am now sitting and guzzling... at that time I was not a loyal regular here just had hopped in.
Ah, all those memories are so near. Those days in my regular bar they had hired a bartend with a switch, ‘he told you sob stories after you got drunk.’ This had made some regulars leave and bought in some curiosity seekers.
I was one of the last one to leave. The bartend was not that bad, he was from some town called Parnala. God knows where on earth it was, and he told stories of famine and exotic things but later also about his fears and anxiety’s. At some point those stories started making me reflect and awaken my own insecurities and I started bar hopping to find a place of tranquillity and the usual listening kind of bartender.
To down multiple frustrations, I had downed too many; that’s when I met him, a seedy looking guy in his mid forties, had thick blond hair and a handsome broad cheeked face, but creased with too many lines; his light brown eyes were sparkling. With some alternations maybe I could put him down as a character in my book, and to know him better invited him over.
But once he opened his mouth I knew I shouldn’t even think about it, but he sure was some character, the minute he sat by me he downed the drink in one gulp, began to comment sarcastically and philosophize and I almost lost my kick. But he kept on buying drinks and I ended up revealing half my personal worries to him and dead drunk. Only alcohol can make you really open up or put you in a coma.
From then on we were together at the pub almost every day. He was always domineering, I guess I never got adjusted to that; but he used to tell me about his many experiences and that filled in for my failure to observe around, an important requirement for an aspiring author, as my creative writing course Prof. used to lecture us.
Carver also was an avid reader, had a naturally healthy body but ill-used it. He never held a regular job. At first I thought he was everything that I wasn’t; happy with himself, doing what he wanted, never worrying about others, no conservative background to haunt him and very handsome with natural talent. As time passed I came to understand him, though never fully. He was very unhappy and kept searching for some goal, but it remained elusive. He had married thrice, now a loner having divorced his third wife a couple of years ago. He got money in spurts and spends it like there is no tomorrow.
The black labeled bottle in front of me shook as a fat guy edged my table. I looked at him drowsily and returned to reminiscing. I came to know about carver’s death from the bartend because I never visited the bar for about a week. I was afraid of seeing carver again, maybe it was me who caused his death, no maybes, it was me, why am I running away from it? Carver always used to tell me that guilt can chase a man better than his own shadow.
Yes now I remember, he even told me about a story of a guilt-laden man always trying to escape from it, it was some Jim, the hero of the story. Jim always wanted to be a hero in his life but when he had a chance, he didn’t risk his life like heroes do; but escaped like a coward; even though later he became successful the guilt and cowardice always haunted him, so the next time when he had to choose between facing death bravely or running away and saving his life, he chose to face death, but didn’t come out alive like book hero’s do. Then I thought it was carver’s own experience, which he told me like a story, which wasn’t unusual.
I got to forget him and his memories. No but I can’t. How can I when it was only about a week ago that I saw him in his apartment, he was very pale, but the sparkle in his eyes were brighter even though he was bed ridden. There was a morose and bored looking nurse near him. It was the first time I had been to his apartment and it looked as if in a sorry state. I was still looking around when he pulled me near him and told me a crazy plan about getting out of the country and resettling in some far away country. He was very excited and suspicious, whenever the nurse came near he stopped talking, then resumed with increased nervousness and speed.
The whole thing was a puzzle, and the smell of medicines uncomfortable. But I sat there and bit by bit his jabbering made sense, but there weren’t even rumors about the country being taken over by the military and communists, and carver’s stomach wound didn’t look like a knife wound. Anyway I knew my country better than an outsider like carver.
I tried to calm him down, but he was becoming paranoid, then the only thing I wanted was to get out of that apartment, even though I could see he was in some serious trouble. So the next time the nurse came near I said a hasty good-bye and rushed out. I still could hear him yelling my name as I was going out. I even stopped going to the pub, and for one week I drank at my apartment and filled a lot of papers with meaningless words. I didn’t want to risk my position and State permit by following a crazy idea, and if anything went wrong I will never be able to return back.. I didn’t want to make any commitment and carver was just a pub friend, he always scared me a little with his unpredictability and was not growing any younger.
For one week I moved around my quarters like a rat, then on an impulse visited the two steers, our pub. Maybe carver wouldn’t speak with me or I was exaggerating the problems by imagining too much, so here I am sitting alone and drunk. The bartend was looking at me nervously. It was almost closing time and I have never been this late. Hell, I may as well as get out, too many old memories here. As I put the money on table I saw a knife underneath on the floor, maybe that fat man’s who nudged my table, he didn’t even apologize, people have no decency left in them anymore. I pocketed the knife and walked out.
Snow was falling, footpaths were almost empty. Trying to spot twin snow flakes I walked, as I was about to give up, heard the sound of heavy snow shoes from behind, then two new shoes passed by me, I looked up and saw a light brown overcoat and sign showing street no. 7. The light from the street lamps were dim, caused by combination of brown out and dirty lamps.
A snowflake hit my face, which was only uncovered part of my body, again I looked up, in snow everything looks grey. I slowed down as I saw street no.9, was looking down at me. Where am I going, to make sure I took up my wallet after a struggle from my back-pocket and looked at my card, street no.5, hell I am becoming absent minded, well, maybe a good habit to develop, absent minded author rhymes too, and a good excuse for not writing as regularly as earlier. That is what they seem to look out for nowadays, just quantity.
I got some money saved and am in a comfortable position enough to overcome it, anyway serious abstract writing always had a niche of its own. Serious abstract writing, it was how carver defined my style. Again carver, why does he still haunt me, why does he keep trying to find the loop hole, that black spot in me all the time. Got to forget him, better think about a new story; ‘bang..... bang’ gunshots, yes, but they have never been a part of my stories; jeee-sus, this is not my thought, it is for real.
I squinted my eyes and looked as far as I could see. Two three men in pointed caps were kicking a man who was on the floor, another was breaking a window. I looked around for a place to hide nearby was a handcart large enough to crawl in, but on side of it was written in big letters, ‘JIM’s... “Good god”, ‘Jim’ what the hell?!! I started to run forward, something wet fell on my thigh, still I kept on running, and from inside my coat took out the knife I had found in the pub. Then in front of me was a man in pointed cap, he came so suddenly and the gun in his hand gleamed.
My steps faltered, my knife stuck some where as I desperately tried to cling on… to keep me from falling. I got balanced a little and looked up. The pointed cap was now red and the knife was inside it and I was hanging on to the knife, which was twitching. I tried to take the knife out but my knees were weakening, the winter grey was turning black as I fell . . . (End)
Carver died yesterday. It came as shock to me even though I was half expecting it. The bartender who told me about Carver’s death looked sad, sad that he had lost a regular customer. Carver wouldn’t have even one real friend, he was too sarcastic; “sorry, may his soul rest in peace, Hell!” I am becoming sentimental, that’s what Carver would’ve said, and that’s what he said, about eight years ago, in this same bar.
Those were the mid sixties, I was then struggling to make my ends meet, in the middle of my second book and in the middle of a countless writing block. The same bar, Two steers, where I am now sitting and guzzling... at that time I was not a loyal regular here just had hopped in.
Ah, all those memories are so near. Those days in my regular bar they had hired a bartend with a switch, ‘he told you sob stories after you got drunk.’ This had made some regulars leave and bought in some curiosity seekers.
I was one of the last one to leave. The bartend was not that bad, he was from some town called Parnala. God knows where on earth it was, and he told stories of famine and exotic things but later also about his fears and anxiety’s. At some point those stories started making me reflect and awaken my own insecurities and I started bar hopping to find a place of tranquillity and the usual listening kind of bartender.
To down multiple frustrations, I had downed too many; that’s when I met him, a seedy looking guy in his mid forties, had thick blond hair and a handsome broad cheeked face, but creased with too many lines; his light brown eyes were sparkling. With some alternations maybe I could put him down as a character in my book, and to know him better invited him over.
But once he opened his mouth I knew I shouldn’t even think about it, but he sure was some character, the minute he sat by me he downed the drink in one gulp, began to comment sarcastically and philosophize and I almost lost my kick. But he kept on buying drinks and I ended up revealing half my personal worries to him and dead drunk. Only alcohol can make you really open up or put you in a coma.
From then on we were together at the pub almost every day. He was always domineering, I guess I never got adjusted to that; but he used to tell me about his many experiences and that filled in for my failure to observe around, an important requirement for an aspiring author, as my creative writing course Prof. used to lecture us.
Carver also was an avid reader, had a naturally healthy body but ill-used it. He never held a regular job. At first I thought he was everything that I wasn’t; happy with himself, doing what he wanted, never worrying about others, no conservative background to haunt him and very handsome with natural talent. As time passed I came to understand him, though never fully. He was very unhappy and kept searching for some goal, but it remained elusive. He had married thrice, now a loner having divorced his third wife a couple of years ago. He got money in spurts and spends it like there is no tomorrow.
The black labeled bottle in front of me shook as a fat guy edged my table. I looked at him drowsily and returned to reminiscing. I came to know about carver’s death from the bartend because I never visited the bar for about a week. I was afraid of seeing carver again, maybe it was me who caused his death, no maybes, it was me, why am I running away from it? Carver always used to tell me that guilt can chase a man better than his own shadow.
Yes now I remember, he even told me about a story of a guilt-laden man always trying to escape from it, it was some Jim, the hero of the story. Jim always wanted to be a hero in his life but when he had a chance, he didn’t risk his life like heroes do; but escaped like a coward; even though later he became successful the guilt and cowardice always haunted him, so the next time when he had to choose between facing death bravely or running away and saving his life, he chose to face death, but didn’t come out alive like book hero’s do. Then I thought it was carver’s own experience, which he told me like a story, which wasn’t unusual.
I got to forget him and his memories. No but I can’t. How can I when it was only about a week ago that I saw him in his apartment, he was very pale, but the sparkle in his eyes were brighter even though he was bed ridden. There was a morose and bored looking nurse near him. It was the first time I had been to his apartment and it looked as if in a sorry state. I was still looking around when he pulled me near him and told me a crazy plan about getting out of the country and resettling in some far away country. He was very excited and suspicious, whenever the nurse came near he stopped talking, then resumed with increased nervousness and speed.
The whole thing was a puzzle, and the smell of medicines uncomfortable. But I sat there and bit by bit his jabbering made sense, but there weren’t even rumors about the country being taken over by the military and communists, and carver’s stomach wound didn’t look like a knife wound. Anyway I knew my country better than an outsider like carver.
I tried to calm him down, but he was becoming paranoid, then the only thing I wanted was to get out of that apartment, even though I could see he was in some serious trouble. So the next time the nurse came near I said a hasty good-bye and rushed out. I still could hear him yelling my name as I was going out. I even stopped going to the pub, and for one week I drank at my apartment and filled a lot of papers with meaningless words. I didn’t want to risk my position and State permit by following a crazy idea, and if anything went wrong I will never be able to return back.. I didn’t want to make any commitment and carver was just a pub friend, he always scared me a little with his unpredictability and was not growing any younger.
For one week I moved around my quarters like a rat, then on an impulse visited the two steers, our pub. Maybe carver wouldn’t speak with me or I was exaggerating the problems by imagining too much, so here I am sitting alone and drunk. The bartend was looking at me nervously. It was almost closing time and I have never been this late. Hell, I may as well as get out, too many old memories here. As I put the money on table I saw a knife underneath on the floor, maybe that fat man’s who nudged my table, he didn’t even apologize, people have no decency left in them anymore. I pocketed the knife and walked out.
Snow was falling, footpaths were almost empty. Trying to spot twin snow flakes I walked, as I was about to give up, heard the sound of heavy snow shoes from behind, then two new shoes passed by me, I looked up and saw a light brown overcoat and sign showing street no. 7. The light from the street lamps were dim, caused by combination of brown out and dirty lamps.
A snowflake hit my face, which was only uncovered part of my body, again I looked up, in snow everything looks grey. I slowed down as I saw street no.9, was looking down at me. Where am I going, to make sure I took up my wallet after a struggle from my back-pocket and looked at my card, street no.5, hell I am becoming absent minded, well, maybe a good habit to develop, absent minded author rhymes too, and a good excuse for not writing as regularly as earlier. That is what they seem to look out for nowadays, just quantity.
I got some money saved and am in a comfortable position enough to overcome it, anyway serious abstract writing always had a niche of its own. Serious abstract writing, it was how carver defined my style. Again carver, why does he still haunt me, why does he keep trying to find the loop hole, that black spot in me all the time. Got to forget him, better think about a new story; ‘bang..... bang’ gunshots, yes, but they have never been a part of my stories; jeee-sus, this is not my thought, it is for real.
I squinted my eyes and looked as far as I could see. Two three men in pointed caps were kicking a man who was on the floor, another was breaking a window. I looked around for a place to hide nearby was a handcart large enough to crawl in, but on side of it was written in big letters, ‘JIM’s... “Good god”, ‘Jim’ what the hell?!! I started to run forward, something wet fell on my thigh, still I kept on running, and from inside my coat took out the knife I had found in the pub. Then in front of me was a man in pointed cap, he came so suddenly and the gun in his hand gleamed.
My steps faltered, my knife stuck some where as I desperately tried to cling on… to keep me from falling. I got balanced a little and looked up. The pointed cap was now red and the knife was inside it and I was hanging on to the knife, which was twitching. I tried to take the knife out but my knees were weakening, the winter grey was turning black as I fell . . . (End)
may 2011- a new era!
each new day can be a new era, if you gain any insight.
anyone who have read OB would remember Hawthorne experiments as well as, Taylor's 'principles of scientific management'. where in a a Steel plant in Philadelphia Taylor began series of experiments aimed at improving the efficiency of the plant’s machinists, about 100 years ago.
He observed and then by breaking down every job into small steps Taylor created an “algorithm,” or a system. the employees felt they were turned into automatons, and
later charlie chaplin showed this in his movie by becoming such a worker himself.
but factory owners used time-and-motion studies with the goal - as Taylor had defined it in his celebrated 1911 treatise, The Principles of Scientific Management, - to develop for every job, best method of work - to create an utopia of perfect efficiency.
and the Taylorism was born:- “In the past the man has been first,” “in the future the system must be first.”
...........what would you think of this quote NOW?
the person who gave industrial psychology or Organizational behavior such a jump a century ago, now helps to give OB / psychologists / HR professionals etc --> more work now... that is of, changing the system to look at human beings in a humane way... (and you thought only computer software people created programs to develop their own future hardware market ;)
lets go some 25 centuries back now...
"as people are beginning to rely on the written word as a substitute for the knowledge they used to carry inside their heads, they would - cease to exercise their memory and become forgetful.”
And because they would be able to “receive a quantity of information without proper instruction,” they would “be thought very knowledgeable when they are for the most part quite ignorant.”
They would be “filled with the conceit of wisdom instead of real wisdom.”
so wrote Socrates, about 2500 years ago.
.........some feel, in next few years, language recognition software will improve a lot, and we wont have to read (we can hear webpages), and we wont have to even type - but just say what we want - and it will get typed on screen.
...and thus signalling the demise of reading & writing skills.
where's the world going to? ;) were the Luddites actually right?
let's see how many comments do i get for this.. ;)
maybe the new generation does like to type much..
anyone who have read OB would remember Hawthorne experiments as well as, Taylor's 'principles of scientific management'. where in a a Steel plant in Philadelphia Taylor began series of experiments aimed at improving the efficiency of the plant’s machinists, about 100 years ago.
He observed and then by breaking down every job into small steps Taylor created an “algorithm,” or a system. the employees felt they were turned into automatons, and
later charlie chaplin showed this in his movie by becoming such a worker himself.
but factory owners used time-and-motion studies with the goal - as Taylor had defined it in his celebrated 1911 treatise, The Principles of Scientific Management, - to develop for every job, best method of work - to create an utopia of perfect efficiency.
and the Taylorism was born:- “In the past the man has been first,” “in the future the system must be first.”
...........what would you think of this quote NOW?
the person who gave industrial psychology or Organizational behavior such a jump a century ago, now helps to give OB / psychologists / HR professionals etc --> more work now... that is of, changing the system to look at human beings in a humane way... (and you thought only computer software people created programs to develop their own future hardware market ;)
lets go some 25 centuries back now...
"as people are beginning to rely on the written word as a substitute for the knowledge they used to carry inside their heads, they would - cease to exercise their memory and become forgetful.”
And because they would be able to “receive a quantity of information without proper instruction,” they would “be thought very knowledgeable when they are for the most part quite ignorant.”
They would be “filled with the conceit of wisdom instead of real wisdom.”
so wrote Socrates, about 2500 years ago.
.........some feel, in next few years, language recognition software will improve a lot, and we wont have to read (we can hear webpages), and we wont have to even type - but just say what we want - and it will get typed on screen.
...and thus signalling the demise of reading & writing skills.
where's the world going to? ;) were the Luddites actually right?
let's see how many comments do i get for this.. ;)
maybe the new generation does like to type much..
17) Grey eyes
17) Grey eyes
Let me not drink,
For I am already drowned,
In her beauty,
Her walk, her whisper,
And an enigmatic glance,
I met her today.
My friends are chattering,
Music is playing,
My eyes are open,
But I see nothing,
Just wishing for one more look,
Oh ! I go mad.
I am going through,
The place we met,
In minds eye, again and again,
Trying to find,
The elusive meaning of that glance,
Even if it takes a life time.
But hope I’ll never see her again,
Only she’ll remain a memory,
Because, I don’t want to face,
Reality, faults find I may.
Now I want to dream again,
The way I met her.
Let me not drink,
For I am already drowned,
In her beauty,
Her walk, her whisper,
And an enigmatic glance,
I met her today.
My friends are chattering,
Music is playing,
My eyes are open,
But I see nothing,
Just wishing for one more look,
Oh ! I go mad.
I am going through,
The place we met,
In minds eye, again and again,
Trying to find,
The elusive meaning of that glance,
Even if it takes a life time.
But hope I’ll never see her again,
Only she’ll remain a memory,
Because, I don’t want to face,
Reality, faults find I may.
Now I want to dream again,
The way I met her.
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