A dewdrop wedded to a swordblade

Desolate Bloom

2012-01-07T23:54:00.001+05:30

Over and below, the butterfly did flutter by
Down the bright flower bent as if shy,
Hesitant to face the lovely eyes of the winged one.
"Pray! Look at me, O red one!"
Your petals call to me, your nectar sweet in scent
Open up to me; let me revel in your essence,
For nowhere else do I feel such unearthly pull
To taste, to relish and bask in your warm embrace."
"Tarry, O lovely one! Be wary; for 'tis a spell,
There's nought but grey behind this crimson;
And abyss beneath the nectary. Away, my love!
Hark not on this quest. Your loveliness
Lies beyond these petals."
Stubborn and spunky, the lovely wings
Swooped deep into the bosom of the crimson bloom.
Mist slowly formed on his face,
As she drank deep from him;
He trembled as she was wrecked with tremors
Feeling the gentle tug of life
As it ebbed away, limp and cold
She fell to the earth, poetic even in death.
"O woe betide! Paid you not heed
To my fervent prayers! She dies!
The incomplete picture, the unfinished song,
The unspoken word, the bated breath,
All stalled forever! Did I not warn you,
Behind the smile lies the evil glee;
There is mercury in this honey!
Now will I ever sojourn on this stalk
Waiting for the unshed tears!"

Eight Hours

2011-08-04T22:26:00.001+05:30

I remember sitting there in the hospital, staring at you hooked up to all those machines, and realizing that I did really love you. It had taken me so long to admit that to myself. Because of all the negative pressure from my family, I had tried to convince myself that you were someone that would just bring me down in life. But the more and more I spent time with you, the more I realized I had been lying to myself. I realized I was in love. When I finally accepted that, my heart broke. Staring at you, I realized I was setting myself up to be hurt. You were going to die.

Your lungs were weak and your heart was failing; your body slowly shutting down. I watched you hang on to life support. I remember the doctors and nurses getting the forms together for me to sign. I was your only family so I had to
be the one to do it. It hurt me so much. I asked them, begged them for another way, but there wasn't. As I put the pen down I thought back to when you had first come into my life. You were really the first man to love me. At first I didn't see it. At first I just ignored you and tried to pretend that you didn't exist, like maybe if I did you would just go away.

But you persisted. When I was at the store or watching TV alone, I shift my gaze and suddenly see you there... and I always smiled. Even when my parents talked about how much you were going to destroy my life, I'd still smile. I knew it wasn't true. You would have only made my life better. Maybe that's what gave me the courage to put my foot down and tell my parents that I wasn't going to let you go. In the short time I did know you, you completely changed me. I could only imagine who I would have become had we been able to live the life we deserved.

My grandma always said, "God gives us just enough -- never too much and never too little." She was right.
That short time I knew you was just long enough for me to know that someone loved me. I think that was the thing
that changed me most of all - knowing that someone had unconditional love for me. And that was what made me finally able to let go and love myself.

Sometimes at night I think about the night you died. I cry every time I remember the look of finality on the nurse's face,
when I knew the end was near. She came in and pulled away the tubes. Then the doctor came, and they turned off your life support. I closed my eyes as I heard the rhythmic sound of your heart monitor shift to a single sharp note. I still hear that in my head sometimes when I close my eyes. I don't think it'll ever go away. But what I'll remember even more is what happened just before all of that. They stepped out of the room to let me say goodbye. I ran my fingers through your thin hair and choked out words that I had thought I would get to sing to you every night for years. But this once would just have to be enough:

"Hush, my little one.... Mama's gonna sing you a beautiful song tonight..Mama's gonna sing about birds and butterflies and flowers..and the moon..and the stars... Hush, little baby..Don't say a word.. Mama's gonna buy you a songbird... If that songbird doesn't sing...Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring... If that diamond ring turns brass...Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass... If that looking glass gets broke... Mama's gonna buy you a billy-goat... If that billy-goat won't pull...Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull... If that cart and bull falls down... Mama's gonna buy you a dog golden brown... If that dog won't bark... Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart... If that horse and cart falls down... You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town."

At first I used to say I fell in love with you in the eight hours you were here on earth. But now I know that's not true. I fell in love with you over seven and a half long months. Seven and a half long months of watching my belly grow and feeling you kick.

But in those eight hours after you were born prematurely, I grew to love myself. I saw the look in your eyes those few times they opened. I could see your fear and pain, like you knew what was about to happen. But, then you would look up at me and all of that would go away. You knew I was there, and that was all you needed. And today when fear and pain creep into my life, I just look up at you, and that's all I need to. I know I have you. You live in me and I live in you.

2011-05-19T19:56:00.000+05:30

I feel a sense of desolate emptiness. Dark night of the Soul? Darkness within the Soul? Or lack of a Soul?

Acceptance

2011-03-22T09:42:00.000+05:30

Inspired by Joey from "Friends" and "The Seventh Seal" by Ingmar Bergman)

O, GREAT MASTERS WHO RULED THE STAGE!

MAY I CONVEY MY HEARTFELT SALUTATIONS TO YOU ALL!!

WHAT WOULD I BE IF YOU WERE NOT THERE FOR ME?

Tommy Houston fidgeted and groaned slightly in his sleep. He tried to pull up the blanket above his aching head but it was too short and left his feet exposed. Shivering, he tried to cuddle up like a baby but it was too uncomfortable on the threadbare mattress. Unshaven and ill, his pale waxy face reflected the existence of one unfortunate soul.

Finally he turned to lie face up. Wiping the feverish sweat collecting on his forehead, he opened his eyes, with heavy eyelids. He blinked and focused on the clock on the wall. Sunlight was faintly entering the sparsely furnished bedroom through a closed window. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again. In the distance, a phone rang a few times until someone picked it up. Disturbed, Joey opened his eyes and stared at the mould growing upon the ceiling. He made an effort to get up but fell back groaning in pain and coughed slightly.

*****************************************************

“He really struggled financially,” Stanley Duscemi, the acting instructor told the investigating officer. “He could not afford to hire the graduation gown nor the photos. The first time I saw him I could not help feeling sorry for him… he was one of those people who existed in a world where luck was a mirage…It was heart- breaking to see him struggle with his lines. He could never remember them however hard he tried.”

“He was not at all the type who looked like he had a future,” said Mariah Clancy, a classmate. “That was my impression when I first met him… But he was determined and put his soul and heart in his work. I heard he worked at night but was always in class on time. While the rest of us missed a few classes, he made it a rule to attend each and every session.” After a pause, she said, “He always looked pale and tired, as if he needed a blood transfusion. I was very surprised he managed to remain for three years to complete the degree.”

*****************************************************

After waiting almost an hour for the headache to subside, Tommy finally pulled himself up and walked to the bathroom. “Hi there” he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He noticed how his hairline was receding and his face looked almost skeletal. Shaking his head, he went around with his ablutions.

The next fit of coughing lasted for ten minutes. He went paler and had to sit by the kitchen counter to get his breath back. “Got to get some more pills” he thought looking at the empty pill bottle. But his wallet was empty. He was surviving on tea for the last three days. If only he could get another audition. His agent had not contacted him for the last two weeks. Food…his medication ....his father’s medication… His eyes hurt as he looked bleakly at his neat and tidy kitchen.

*******************************************************

Larry Peabody stared into his coffee as he spoke. “He did not fit in at all. His poverty was pathetically evident. I sometimes saw him gaze hungrily at the hotdog stand across the street. But the guy was good-natured. He was regularly the butt of mockery among the studs in class.”

Rod Clark Jr. said, “Good attendance was not everything. His performance was simply mediocre… but perseverance was something deeply rooted in his heart. He used to hang on to every word of the instructor. I look back at those days and…yeah… now I give him his due.”

*********************************************************

Tommy was not sure since when he wanted to be an actor. But he knew that it was his biggest ambition. Rubbing his forehead, he fantasized how he would enthrall audiences with his passion and brilliant emoting. But he was also getting painfully aware of his inability to make it real. He had spent many nights stealthily enacting lines during his night job of cleaning transport buses. But all the passion froze and he became dead meat during auditions. He just could not prove he belonged to the stage or screen.

He had spent three years in acting school. It was difficult….and hard. Keeping up with those thespians was cruelly demanding. He continuously forgot his lines. Verbal taunts and insults were common. But the pull of the stage was too strong to turn him away. He did not want to disappoint his father who believed in his son’s dreams. The old man was struggling with arthritis but did not think twice about using his pension fund for Tommy’s classes. Tommy had told him of a bright future and a life of happiness.

***********************************************************

“He graduated all right,” continued Stanley Duscemi. “He was happy… he was a formally trained actor… at long last. But then… there was the problem of employability. Sadly, his prospect was quite bleak on this front….”

The talent agent spoke, “The kid couldn’t afford my services after a while. He had come here once begging, ‘Please Ben, you have to help me. I am an actor; I have done three long years of training. I cannot afford to… I need to work, that’s all I need… work… work! I am already trained. My father relies on me. He is old… I have not worked for four years now, I am an actor. That’s what I can do! Please, please… give me a chance…I need a break really badly!’ So I even worked for him free for a while. But then I started getting calls from producers and casting directors asking whether I was onto some practical joke by sending him to them. Hey, I have a reputation to protect in this business. So I stopped calling him. But he had heart, I must agree.”

***********************************************************

Tommy tried to stifle the coughs as he wrote:

“Dear Dad,

I am doing very well here. Sorry couldn’t write to you for a long time
as I had been very busy. Things are looking great Dad. I have recently signed a
contract with a ilm studio in the city. They were quite impressed with my audition…”

He remembered the words of the producers and directors during his auditions,

“…This won’t do… not at all! You call yourself a trained actor?... And can’t even act out a simple speech from “Titanic”? You’ve wasted three years of your life…”
“Don’t ever waste my time again… I did a favour to someone auditioning you. Had I known…”

“I would like to offer you the part Tommy…you are employable. I…. I have to… I need to talk to my Associates… I would advice you to do some further training…But we’ll get back to you..”

He had then begged for a role - even as an extra…or a light technician…or a clapper-boy…anything.

He continued:

“The producer was enthusiastic about me and has advised me to change
my name to THOMAS HASTINGS. That’s my artist name now, Dad

and I have been paid in advance for my role. I posted a cheque for you yesterday.

It’s going to take care of your expenses at least for a month…..”

Tommy looked at the bank statement lying on the table. It read: “Closing balance: £1.24p”.

“…….I hope you’re keeping well. I am sorry I have not sent the overcoat yet…
can you give me your measurement again? And also which colour would you
prefer? I will be moving house soon, but please keep sending mails to this

address. My landlady is only too happy to handle the mails of a famous actor.

I have recruited a real estate agent to find me a bigger apartment. And you are

moving in with me in a matter of weeks…”

His eyes welled up.

“ …..Dad, your prayers are about to be answered. Dreams do come true…

I will be very busy but we will always have breakfast and dinner together.

You will be by my side at all time. A promise is a promise, Dad. I am the
happiest man and so should you be…”

It took him some time to take notice of the changes in the weather outside. It was getting bleaker and colder. The skies turned darker and he heard a bang outside his door. Surreal noises followed it and when he looked up, he saw a bright light outside his door. As he looked on, it grew brighter, blindingly brighter that he had to blink and cover his eyes, dropping the pen from his hand.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a silhouette in the door frame.

As he tried to focus harder, the silhouette slowly materialized into a man, tall stature, expensive black suit, with a white shinny shirt and an impressive tie –all of exquisite material.

Dusk complexioned, he had a distinguished look. He smiled a broad smile.

Tommy, though uneasy, smiled back - a genuine, rather naïve smile…Then he stuttered unintelligibly, “… How’s… How did you… Who are you?”

The man stood there looking at Tommy… smiling good-naturedly … then he opened his arms and spoke:

“Your miseries are over Mr. Hastings!”

Despite his breathlessness, Tommy smiled – a happy, bright smile, for once. “How did… you know I was to be called Hastings??”

Still smiling, the man answered, “How do I know? You wrote it down there… didn’t you?”

As the man’s words sank in, the smile faded away from Tommy’s face. The man reassured him…

“I know everything… come now… I am here to take you…”

Tommy looked confused, lost… his breath grew shorter as he started to worry. Sweat beads appeared on his forehead. He wanted to stand his ground, he was willing to fight back; but this man was not here to attack him; he was the friendliest man Tommy had ever seen. With newly-found courage he spoke, “Where? Where to?”

Laughing out loud, the man said, “Where to?? Hollywood! That’s where you belong my good friend… Everything else is history!”

There was a pause. Tommy stared at the man as he spoke again, “I am too ill, sir… I can’t.”

“Nonsense…come on…You are not coming with me like that. A shower at least, is welcome!”

He slowly moved towards Tommy. Tommy looked at him tired and resigned. The man’s smile faded as he looked around the room as if he was purveying an audience. Then he began to speak with the eloquence of a stage actor in a dramatic role.

“Heaven, Mother Nature, even the hardest, indifferent man with a heart as tough as a stone, cannot bear to see such injustice that you have been subjected to. Life has given you a raw deal, my friend. Your waiting is over and your carriage waits. We need to leave now.”

Tommy was stunned. He opened his mouth and tried to say something. But he froze, as usual.

“You know who I am, don’t you? You don’t need any coins to be placed on your eyes or underneath your tongue. As far as I know, you cannot afford it. I would not accept it from you anyway… never from you!”

His words started to echo:

“Don’t feel sorry, whatever you are leaving behind is simply misery… misery…misery…”

Tommy noticed the razor-thin smile on his face.

Soon, Tommy found himself cleaned up, shaved and wearing a dark suit, white shirt and a black tie. He was still very ill and breathless as he sat on the chair and the man came to his side.

“I can hardly walk…” said Tommy. “I cannot come today…maybe…tomorrow..”

The man looked at him with compassion and said, “I will carry you. Here we go… and please don’t be sad! LET’S CELEBRATE!”

Saying this, the man pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses from his coat. Filling both, he handed one to Tommy who took it with trembling hands. The man lifted his glass and toasted jovially, “To Thomas Hastings, who has finally found acceptance!” and drank up.

Tommy cringed at the words and took a sip. He slowly looked up at the ceiling as the silky wine flowed down his throat.

A sense of quietness came about him as the man walked towards him and held out his hand. Both held their gaze for a while as Tommy lifted his hand and gently grasped the offered palm. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes and towards his ears as he took a shuddering breath. His eyes started to glaze as deafening sounds of thunder flourished outside…

*******************************************************

It was the neighbour who first saw the opposite door ajar. He took a peek inside and informed the landlady who then called the police. When they came, they found Tommy sitting on the chair looking at the ceiling, and his head drawn back and hanging back over the back of the chair. There were dried up channels of tears from his eyes following the law of gravity, towards his ears. He had vomited some milk which has poured out of the corners of his mouth… His one hand still clutched a half-full glass of wine. But his face had a beatific smile- one of peace...and relief.. and acceptance...

2011-02-20T11:35:00.000+05:30

Stone, brick,glass and sill
Bathed in silver and deathly still
Behold a figure leaped so high
Flashing past in the wink of an eye
With the wind blowing in your mane
...And the blood throbbing in your vein
Become the beast on the nightly prowl
Leaping up to give a chilling howl
Blind speed covered in a grunt
Eyes agleam with the thrill of the hunt
Your mind swaying to a haunting tune
Ah! To run under the full moon!

2011-02-18T15:33:00.000+05:30

Long has the moment passed..but linger does the pain -
Cold, stinging and metallic..ripe and raw and heavy;
As the ears start to see... and the eyes listen,
I live and die in every breath...Becoming and unbecoming;
Your incomplete portrait with my heart's dye...fades into a void;
Memories haunt me...seeking sense of your absence.
Tired of meaning...my words seek silence
You and I shall not be but you alone...
For I'll be in the plane without a surface.

2010-12-02T12:24:00.003+05:30

He stood watching the "Just Married" sign fade away into the distance. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned around to walk, only to see his room mate leaning on a lamp post and watching him closely. With a razor-sharp smirk the latter said, "Failure is not as frightening as regret."

2010-08-20T19:36:00.001+05:30

Tears, idle tears.
Long has the moment passed
But linger does the pain -
Cold, stinging and metallic.
I now live and die in every breath.
Your portrait with my heart's dye
Lies unfinished. Memories haunt me
Seeking sense of your absence.
Tired of the meaning, my words seek silence...

It happened one night..

2010-08-08T22:03:00.005+05:30

The darkness only added to the pain of running over sharp stones and pebbles.
Judging by the dampness and slight slipperiness underneath my feet, I knew they were bleeding. Sharp stumps thrashed my legs and thick branches thrashed and cut my face and shoulders in the darkness. But the fear and grief in the heart were like whiplashes which kept me pushing ahead.

My chest was starting to burn like a cold flame - or was it like a blunt knife sinking slowly into the skin- fatigue, fear and memories of horrifying scenes blinded the senses. For how long I had been on this steep climb, I knew not.

A few moments later, the general placing of the stones on which I stepped indicated that I was moving towards a less steep and less wooded place. The climb soon turned to a slope. Peering through the scant general skylight, I made out the faint contour of a lake or a marsh. The surroundings were also not entirely invisible. The water was mostly covered in mist; yet it had an eerie bluish glint in the haze. Darkness in the form of trees was a littler further away and the sky took the shade of grayish blue. I finally felt soft grass underneath my torn slippers. Almost immediately, my knees bent and I plopped on the ground, exhausted.

Taking time to calm my breath, I tried to make sense of what I saw around me. There was deathly stillness all around with no animals growling, no owls hooting, no insects chirping and no wind blowing. Nothing but my labored breath was to be heard. But the silence could not calm my mind.

It was like a cyclone in my head. It was pure agony. All hope was lost. We lost the Great War. The white men crushed us mercilessly. No one survived the attack on our platoon and neither did I expect myself to be alive. This would have been worse as there were stories of how the captured prisoners were being tied to the mouths of cannons and blown away to parts. The plains were full of bodied of my compatriots and awash with their blood. Playing dead here and there in the midst of the wailing injured to escape the roving eyes of the firangs was not easy.

Running away from the battlefield was cowardice but then why stay if the outcome was already decided? Our commander did not seem to be fazed by the slaughter all around. It was evident the enemies had bought him to their side earlier. Traitorous pig! We were the soldiers of the great Rani, whom even children looked upon as Durga incarnate, and we were her leonine forces. Well, not I, for I was just an ordinary cook in the army. I never even got to see her or any of her exploits but she was always the Destroyer of Evil for me.

When I heard that she had fallen dead in the battlefield, then I lost all hope of victory and then decided to escape. On the way, I heard that her body was missing and no one knew where it had gone. How was that possible? Maybe they have cremated her body before it reached into the hands of the alien rulers. Doubts still lingered, and despair seemed unending. If she was dead, then why live?

Suddenly, I heard some movement in the water. The splashes were distant but were quick and came near very soon. Through the mist I then made out a huge animal trotting forward. Immediately recognizing it as a horse I also saw a ghostly figure wrapped in cloth riding it. The horse chortled and agitatedly stopped near me. The figure was sitting upright and motionless with head and face covered but the eyes shone with an unearthly light that transfixed me to the spot. I could not move a muscle as terror had overtaken instinct. The eyes looked at me and I could not remember whether I was alive.

“Are you from the plains?” the figure suddenly asked in a female voice.

Surprised at the somewhat anticlimactic turn of events, I was still cautious and ventured to reply, “That depends. Who wants to know?”

Immediately, the figure pulled away the cloth covering the face and the head. Through the faint light, I saw a cascade of jet black hair tumbling down to the shoulders. The face was bloodied but the eyes were still shining intensely.

The voice then responded with an unmistakable touch of royal authority.

“Don’t you recognize your own Rani?”

“Of…Of course, yes, yes, Your Majesty!!” Life soon clumsily pulled me up to my feet and I stood in attention, with bent head, folded hands and downcast eyes. I had let her down.

It was an electrifying moment.

Surprise, incredulity and excitement had robbed me of my breath and my pulse was throbbing like war-drums. I felt numb. The surreal moments passed by as I apprehensively looked into those regal eyes. They spoke unknown mysteries.

I could see the color of the sky slowly turning lighter. Dawn was approaching. But the radiance of the bloodied face only increased. Suddenly, her hand flew up to her neck. In a flash, it came out with a string of shining pearls. Bending down she pushed it into my folded hands before I could react.

“Speak not of this night” she said with a razor-sharp smirk which lit up her face and galloped away into nearby darkness. Stillness returned.

Overcome with goosebumps, I stood trying to comprehend what had happened. Dawn was slowly approaching. I saw the past and the present merging with the future. The future may be uncertain, but history was being created at every moment.

But then why was I feeling this shaking of my shoulders? It was getting more vigorous. I could hear my name being called out as well.

A sudden jerk and darkness turned to light as I found myself sitting on a chair at my study desk. Vinod, my roommate, was bemusedly looking at me.

“Studying late last night, eh? And History too...Bookworm!” He gazed into the book and then at the drool coming out of my mouth and grimaced. “Ewww!! You were drooling at Rani Lakshmi Bai?? You’re crazy, dude! Get a life in the present! Time for breakfast. I’m hungry!” He walked out of the room closing the door.

Still groggy, I looked back into the book and saw the picture of the great Rani. Though just a painting, she still looked hauntingly mysterious and also had that cryptic smirk So that was all a dream then. Shaking my head, I pulled myself away from the table and stood up when I felt something fall off my lap to the floor. I looked down and the whole world before me turned dark when I saw:

Karan gets the budget... (With due apologies to a certain Pranab Mukherjee)

2010-06-04T12:22:00.005+05:30

There was bickering that morning and hissing
In the Finance Ministry; for the budget plan
For the country was suddenly found "missing"
From the Minister's computer."Without the plan
What will we do?" the Officials shrieked,
"Where will we go?" the secretaries screeched,
While in all this midst, the peons stood afroze.
Though Roy and Paul and Bunta and Feroze
Pulled their hair and boiled their juice,
The budget plan proved to be a recluse.

Gloom spread in the office when suddenly,
The Minister Babu walks in nonchalantly.
Digging inside his nose he says, "Don't stress.
It's true that without the budget plan the country's a mess.
But I'm calling Karan to the office.
Take heart; with computers he's a whiz."

The peons stare at the tattoo while the typist
Winces at the studded lip; There's a collective hush
As Karan walks into their midst
Twirling his i Pod and sipping Orange Crush.
Though barely sixteen his credentials are impressive.
He boasts of a degree from Powai, and one more
From Princeton; so nothing's gonna give.
His skills are the stuff of folklore
From IBM to Google to Commodore.
They sing about his genius and traits
From Pyongyang to United fucking States.

Staring at the screen, cracking his knuckles
He sits down to deal with the obstacles.
Moments pass as he types an array of commands
And algorithms to search for what he demands.
Sitting back he says,"the budget plan's gone nowhere,
It cannot escape and I'm gonna search inside there."
There is magic in his fingers as he works the board,
His toil and focus on the job striking a chord.
When up to screen comes an election manifesto
Showing the smiling Minister waving hands with gusto.
A few greetings cards, a song now and then
And a soft porn video of a fully loaded siren
(While the Minister sheepishly hides behind the curtain).

There comes a shout as suddenly Karan jumps
"I've found the plan!" he cries out with goosebumps.
Cheers and Shouts of joy fill the room,
All are relieved to escape from doom.
The Minister dances and officials shake with laughter
While the typist slaps a peon who happily hugged her.
All is well until Karan's elbow accidentally hits the key "Erase"
And the budget plan finally vanishes without a trace!!

Oh, there are some nations which plan right,
And some nations which fuck up outright.
Call me rude but I ask the Minister polite
"When are we ever gonna get it right?"

In the waves...

2010-05-26T12:51:00.003+05:30

He went to the pool that evening at 7. He preferred that hour by when all the loud-mouthed college kids who played water-polo would be gone and only a few office-goers come to swim away the day's stress. He preferred the quiet atmosphere and quieter waters. He was pleased to see that the pool area was empty except for the pool instructor. I'm gonna love this, he said to himself. He was still an amateur in swimming but was eager to hone his skills (not to mention to reduce his stubborn tyre around the waist) and relished his regular pool sessions.

Later, when he descended into the pool, he remembered the pretty lady who had swum the previous day. He smiled as he recollected her lithe form gliding across the pool like a fish. He was lingering at one end recovering from his pathetic attempt of two laps as he counted her completing eight laps non-stop. I've a looooooooong way to go to swim like that, he thought. Reminding himself that one day he too would be doing the same, he put on his earplugs and dived underneath.
Water went in and bubbles came out of his nose as he strained his eyes against the sting of chlorine. He stared into the blue nowhere and lazily took in the throbbing silence...

Tham tham thaka thaka thum tum tha thum thum....

What was that?

Sounded like the beats played on a tabla..

He forgot to swim and slowly looked around him in the immense blueness..

Tham thaka thaka thaka tham tham tham....Tha thi thaka thaka tham tham tham..

Again those notes...This time the tabla was joined by the mridangam too..

Surprised and unsettled, he came up to the surface, removed his earplugs and looked around. No music was playing. Not another sound or musical note.
He looked at the pool instructor's desk. The pool instructor sat there reading a newspaper.
Then where did those cymbal notes come from??
Chuck it,he thought. My mind must be playing tricks on me. He put on the earplugs,took a deep breath and dived in..

It was blue and misty,he thought. It was moderately cold and dreamlike,he thought. And closed his eyes.

Thaka thaka thaka tham thathajam thathajam thakida thaka thathajam tha..

This time it was louder and clearer. The unmistakable sound of table, mridangam and some other cymbals.
His eardrums throbbed with the notes.

What's this?? Why was he suddenly feeling the rush of something like an electric current through him?? In the cold water, he suddenly felt a searing heat up his spine. The beats were now becoming more haunting and enchanting. They were first like dewdrops on a flower making it fresh. They were now becoming louder, faster and stronger..He felt goosebumps and his spine tingling with the rhythm..He shook his head and kept still; lying suspended in 7-foot-deep water.

Whence does this music come?? He thought about it along with how long he could be underwater holding his breath.
Just for assurance, he went up and looked around. It was quiet once again. Only the pool instructor to be seen. No one else.

Going down again, he looked around and saw everything was suddenly white.

Snow white. Like a mountain peak.

He looked down to see a stream starting to flow down the slope.The slope stretched down to eternity into further whiteness.

Thunder rolled as the the water flowed down with the rumbling of drums and jingles. The surroundings reverberated with the robust strums of sitar and Spanish flamenco guitar.

The rhythm possessed a certain power, a force that was strong in its combat overtones, with a feel of a great current that was about to sweep down everything in its Olympian rush...

He felt the sudden rush rising up his belly, the sudden flash of exuberance...

The next moment, he moved.

He dived into the stream and into the abyss..

The music now grew louder and almost took physical form with its magnificence. He suddenly could see that the whiteness was slowly morphing into more concrete definite images. He felt a little fear, but he did not stop as he was moving with the stream.

More things became visible- rocks, peaks, clouds, trees....The stream cut deep gorges and he saw the trees on the banks dancing in the the haunting rhythm..

He could not resist and plunged head long.

He did not feel tired. He felt like Superman. He was cruising down and forging ahead like a torpedo. The stream had by now grown into a mighty river..

He saw the large waterfall coming ahead..He did not stop..

He surged..

He pushed..

He plunged..

From the edge, he flew into the calm depths down deep..

The water was then turning blue. He marveled at the giant mixing of the white and the blue. It looked like smoky clouds in the sky.. Only they were shifting and wave-like. They were a like gyre... Like a vortex.. And the haunting beats pushed him through the vortex.

There was neither here, nor there. Neither then, nor now. His eyes grew tired.

After what seemed like eternity, he saw through his droopy eyes a brown shape floating towards him. Though he felt tired, he also felt happy as he waited for the thing to come nearby. The shape soon morphed into a face. Then everything changed while he closed his eyes to embrace darkness..

When he woke up, he saw the pool instructor looking down at him with concern. "Are you alright??"

He turned to his side. He was lying on the poolside.

"What the hell were you doing there? You think you're some Olympic swimmer or what?" The pool instructor was scolding.

He slowly rose and sat up. Where was the river? The peaks? The white, the blue?....

Where was the music??

"What happened?" He asked out loud.

The pool instructor looked amazed. "What do you mean by what happened??" You were swimming non-stop and almost fainted in fatigue. I counted at least 12 laps by the time you slowed down. You looked too weak and senseless in the middle of the water and so I had to jump in." He wasn't letting up.

"You're still an amateur. Don't overdo it,okay? Take it one step at a time. Was that stunt really necessary?"

He thought about the tabla and mridangam.About the snow-white peaks and the stream. About the combat guitar and the upcoming waterfall...

"The music was good." he mumbled and smiled weakly.

When am I me???

2010-05-20T10:52:00.006+05:30

5.00 am - 9.00 am - Age 95
9.00 am - 9.30 am - Age 27

9.30 am - 1.30 pm - Age 60
1.30 pm - 2.00 pm - Age 13
2.00 pm - 4.00 pm - Age 3
4.00 pm - 9.00 pm - Age 60
9.00 pm - 9.30 pm - Age 27
9.30 pm - 11.00 pm - Age 95
11.00 pm - 5.00 am - Who knows?? (I sleep coz I'm still single).

So how long do I stay my age in a day??

2009-01-13T23:52:00.000+05:30

The elementary me...

2009-01-13T21:24:00.002+05:30

Think I'm getting addicted to Paintbrush...a momentary surrender to vanity.. :-)

Next one..

2009-01-13T20:35:00.002+05:30

Yet another painting..This one is a representation of a painting which I had seen on the cover of a twenty year-old Readers' Digest Magazine.. Don't know what the title is..

Two at the same time..

2009-01-11T16:05:00.002+05:30

Gave in to the amateur painter in me.. A work in paintbrush on a lazy day in office...

The one burning in the pyre and in floating drowned in the stream are the same.. How it is possible? It's a koan in paint..so..

The night closes in..

2008-12-02T21:42:00.002+05:30

Lights go off here and there
Chopin stops playing.
No more flourishes.
T'is quiet.
The table catches my eye.
An orange peel, a burnt candle,
Loose change and Eliot's Wasteland,
A fallen beetle wanders over the folds
Of the table cloth, trying to soar
But falls down and lies still.
The candle lies still, the peel lies still,
The change is frozen still, the images.
The room is still.
The steely light bears down in the silence.
As the organ takes in its last whiff of air
Waves come in and all creation starts swimming..vanishing
The shutters slowly come down without choice,
T'is still again;
Still.

Happy Birthday!!

2008-11-25T21:54:00.002+05:30

Tomorrow, I take one symbolic step closer to Death..

The gift

2008-11-25T09:10:00.002+05:30

The only gift that true love can give is tears-simple, pure and pristine.
Stop them not. Let them flow incessantly.
They will take you to the ocean of oneness; where no dualities exist.
There is only suchness, stillness, fullness...
Peace, unadulterable peace!!

The..

2008-09-11T14:49:00.000+05:30

Through the evening air, I hear a soft prayer from a woman,
Which pulls me to a score years behind now, and I see
A child sitting peacefully in his mother's lap, immersed in the voice of her simple prayers,
And she smiles as he smugly looks up at her.

That the hard-nosed philosopher now I am, worshipping logic and slighting "faith",
The mellow prayer makes me weep to return,
To the daily mornings at the old prayer stand, the mother's lap,
Her knowing, smiling faith, and the silence around us.

So it happens that the "wise" self can no longer spew cold fire,
As the warm, tender scent of childhood shrouds me,
Tears away my adult stench,until down on the floor I lie
And weep like a child for the days that past.

Vande Mataram!

2008-09-04T19:10:00.001+05:30

It's been 61 years since our forefathers first inhaled the air of independence. On the nidnight of August 14th, 1947, Nehru had then mentioned in his famous "Tryst with Destiny" speech that India was going to redeem her pledge with Destiny "not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially". He further mentioned about the Indian quest and how "...through good and ill fortune alike she....never lost sight of that quest or
forgotten the ideals which gave her strength."

These words ring both as a reminder of those times of strife and also a stern reminder of the future ahead.

Taking stock of ourselves almost three generations after that epoch-making day, it is difficult to properly conclude as to whether we have really earned our worth or whether we still have miles ahead of us.

It is hard to find anywhere else in the world such a vast range of cultures, languages, religions, lifestyles and customs all densely packed into one sub-continent.

What you find here, you will find everywhere else. What you don't find here, you will not find anywhere else. Indeed an enigmatic mix of contrasts.

On one side, there is enough sunshine to smile about. We achieved self-sufficiency in food production and are making great strides in the field of information technology.

Adult life expectancies have gone up due to better availability of medical care. Greater expansion of transport networks through road, rail and air is changing the face of India like never before. Private entrpreneurship is flourishing like never before and some of the world's richest billionares and most admired corporate leaders hail from this land. Industrial revolutions are happening almost overnight and India is slowly and surely transforming into a mighty superpower.

A report card of our six decade-old experiment in freedom and democracy shows a disconcerting picture. While universal franchise is increasingly being championed,

its benefits still elude millions. Not everyone benefits from this democracy. Entitled benefactors are instead plagued by crime and gross injustice and greedy exploiters run the show with impunity and immunity often provided by sections of the state machinery. They use the very same evils that are the bane of our society - corruption, intolerance, caste and communal politics and indifference to suffering.

One pauses to reflect: Where are the ideals that gave India strength in her quest? Have ideals like tolerance, acceptance, concern for others and a sense of justice faded away like age old civilisations of Greece, Rome and Babylon? Is Indian civilisation also facing the same threat?

While I am sure most will disagree, I feel that somewhere, we are turning a blind eye to those ideals that give us that lustre of Indianness.

Tales of grave injustice and discrimination no longer rend our hardened hearts. Narrations of marginalised sections being suppressed in the name of progress using sheer economic muscle no longer affect us. For we are too busy shaping up our futures with little thoughts for our fellow citizens, our future generations or for our environment.

All this from the country which wished the world, "Lokaa samasthaa sukhino bhavanthu!!"

No civilisation or culture survives on thin air. It survives and thrives on the beliefs and activities of its fundamental elements: the people. Everything begins from there and
ends there.

We are already in the clutches of a different kind of slavery- decay of human ideals. Morals have decayed due to constant twisting by unscrupulous elements for their selfish gains.

So a second struggle has to start - this time for freedom from internal decay.

Still, there is proof that not all is lost. The future is not set. Hope still survives. Pointing to a silver lining, as a reminder of the inconquerable nature of the Indian spirit.

The Indian spirit is as strong as the human spirit.

And somewhere, a low but firm voice tells me to look ahead with hope.

For, with the pitfalls, with all the decay, with all the blemishes, how can one still not love his own mother??

Let us all strive and prove ourselves to be worthy children of that great Mother.

Jai Hind!

2008-04-26T17:44:00.001+05:30

When was the last time you looked at someone in the eye and smiled not just with your lips but also with your heart??

The deserted heart..

2008-04-26T16:08:00.000+05:30

The extremes that I see within myself sometimes frightens me.

One moment I am brimming with life and have an overwhelming sense of compasssion and belonging to the world. Love, peace, brotherhood, hope.

And then the next moment, I feel like an empty shell. I look within myself and see a vast barren desert,harsh and lifeless. The gentle "humidness" has vanished; the heartbeat of life vanished, like a mirage.

And then in the deep reaches of that desert, I find a hidden trickle of blood...The trickle widens and soon the eight quarters tremble under its force.

My heart is bleeding..I've been mercilessly left to perish.

The dark clouds of sadness boil in my mind's sky. They boil like deep wounds that will remain open forever.

The river of prayer and compassion that I let loose in my heart for others has dried up.

They have built dams in its path. They have harnessed it's power. They have set up walls

of ingratitude around my selfless river for their benefit.

The heat of merciless indifference has desertified my mindscape...

From this moment, You and I will be confined to just You. I no longer exist.

Where is that oasis of life, that spring of joy, that rainshower of hope??

Why this eternal sadness in the dark side of my moon??

My birth

2008-04-22T13:10:00.002+05:30

Me: Some one said that people who changed the course of history exhibited a rare symbol of their nature when they were born.. Chanakya had a complete set of teeth when he was born.. Genghiz Khan had a blood wound in his right palm when he was born.. Hitler steadfastly refused to cry and kept staring at the midwife..

Ma: I don't think so..You haven't become anything till now!!

Me: Eh?? What do you mean?? Did I do something unusual?

Ma: Yeah. You laughed!!

Me(astounded): Kya baat kar rahe ho??

Ma: Yup..I remember that day..my labour was very painful. I'd lost some blood and so had to be put on transfusion. Then I felt this huge wave of numbing pain!! A flash and I saw stars in my closed eyes!! Then I heard a small guffaw, like someone laughing after witnessed a joke! I opened my eyes and the doctor was staring at a small bundle of life shaking its tummy and making a gurgling voice...Make no mistake, you were laughing!! The doctor was a bit hesitant and then slapped you slowly on your bum..You suddenly went silent..One more slap and then you started bellowing with a vengeance!!

Me(beaming): Whoa!! So I laughed the first thing when I was born!! SoI'm gonna be great soon!!

Ma(snickering):Really?? I haven't seen anything all these years to prove that. We spent all this money to educate you...and what have you done till now??(I try to keep a non-chalant face) I'll tell you what..In your previous birth, you died in a movie theatre watching a hilarious movie, may be a heart attack or something. You couldn't laugh out properly while you died. So when you were born, you laughed out at that old sub-conscious joke.. Nothing else..nothing great there..Go to sleep now..it's late!

Hmmm..Fate is not without a sense of irony, right? Sigh!!

Fear

2008-04-22T11:23:00.002+05:30

Looking back at my life, I find I have no regrets. Success and failure are mere subjective concepts. Do not mistake me for some kind of a grungy loser. It is just that I find such dualities frivolous. I have achievevd my goal and that is all that matters.

My journey begain ten years ago after the death of my elder brother. He had fallen off from the balcony of our twenty-third floor flat. One moment he was holding on to the ledge and the next moment he was off- hurtling downwards with one arm stretched towards me. I was frozen with horror as I had seen such fear in his eyes. He died dashing his brains on the ground. I had my first taste of fear.

Our brother's death left me and my younger sister shattered. He had been our sole breadwinner and after our parents' death. He was our very life, our very soul. That was when an uncle of ours came forward to look after us. He was a childless widower. Since it was important that my sister had a shelter, we could not refuse. He also insisted that I continue my education. I did so but kept a low profile.

I finally graduated and found a job. I could not marry. I wanted no part of it. Since I had lost all interest in social life, I lived like an outcaste. Neither music nor poetry could give my consolation. I spent many nights in cemeteries and cremation grounds. I had no more gentle emotions left in me. Life did not make any sense any more. I was losing my sanity. My brother's death had seared me within.

Slaughterhouses fascinated me. I frequented them and watched mutely as the animals met a voilent death. The fear that glinted in their eyes reminded me so much of the fear in my brother's eyes. It seemed that these animals were very human.

Our uncle gave us both love and care. As time passed by, we gave my sister in marriage to a soldier living in a faraway town. My uncle and I were left alone. He wanted to see me married but I kept off. He had forced me into a job but did not live long to see me well-settled.

It was in a strange way that my uncle died. He had a massive heart attack. He struggled across the bed to take the medicine bottle on the table, only to find it empty. He was struggling to breathe, his body contorting in pain. For some unknown reason, I sat beside him instead of running for a doctor. He tried to say something but his voice died in his throat. He looked deeply at me and I again saw the same fear reflecting in his eyes that I had seen in my brother's eyes and I felt an eerie glee. I sat mute while my uncle died moaning feebly.

I then decided to visit my sister for a few days. Starting the journey by morning, I reached her hometown by nightfall. I noticed that her house was at a deserted part of the town. All the neighbouring houses were either locked up or abandoned. As I drew nearer, I heard shrieks and screams from inside the house. Peering into the window, I was again frozen with horror- I saw the "soldier", probably in an inebriated state, strangling my poor sister with his bare hands! Her feet were off the floor and she was struggling like a fish put on dry land. She turned towards me and I again saw in her eyes the same fear that had flashed in my brother's eyes. She stretched her hand towards me but it fell dangling...

I silently watched as the murderer took a sari and made a noose at one end.He slipped it around my dead sister's neck and then sent the other end through a hook on the ceiling...

Suddenly, the blood rose in me. I remember running towards the back of the house and picking up a large axe. Mad with rage and excitement, I broke into the house growling like a bear. The murderer was stunned and I was thrilled to see the fear in his eyes. I felt an unexplained glee, akin to that of a hunter on seeing his prey. With a mighty stroke, I sent his head rolling on the floor....

Life became normal for me. My job paid me well and even gave me a house. That was when people started finding bodies all over the town. They were found with the eyeballs torn off their sockets. The police is still searching for the killer. There is no evidence. I left none. Now as I look into the mirror, I see the same fear reflecting in my eyes. I know that it is time for me to die. Will someone help me?

[Finally, darkning struck. It started off as a slow, small trickle of words. Then I only remember going with the flow. I now realize what writers mean when they say that they let their pens guide them.]

Really nothing??

2008-04-02T16:22:00.004+05:30

Yesterday, I saw the movie "Stop, or My Mom Will Shoot!"- arguably one of the stupidest movies I've ever seen.

For those who haven't seen the movie, it's about a 70-year old frail but streetsmart n protective mother coming to visit Sylvester Stallone who's a supercop. She meddles in every affair of his life- work, food, love interest (even dirty laundry) and turns his n the police dept's world upside down leading to ridiculously disastrous results.

Yawning at a faster rate than Stallone shooting down the bad guys ,I was about to flip the channel. But then, I watched this scene:

Poor Sylvie is lying down battered at the end of a fight with the druglords n a mountain-sized bad guy's about to shoot him to bits. Suddenly, the latter hears a gun click n turns around to see Sylvie's Mummy standing with legs shoulder-length apart n pointing a Beretta at him with frail hands.

The tiny woman stands erect n stares at him in the eyes n says in a deep voice,

"No one touches my baby while I'm alive!!"

and shoots him to oblivion.

It was nothing. Really. An insignificant climax to an insignificant movie.

But I felt overwhelmed. And I wept.

Why is that??

The omnipresent?

2008-03-24T18:34:00.000+05:30

I was walking down the street this afternoon when I passed by a girl, all alone at the bus stand and screaming into her cell phone "You're a devil!! I should've known!!".

It sounded stupid,but then..
Isn't the Devil everywhere??

"Up above is God Almighty
So very far away,
But your brother the Devil
You will meet on every level."

Any takers??

Love....

2008-03-24T16:50:00.000+05:30

Love is the blackest of all plagues, and if one could die of it, there would be some pleasure in love.
But you almost always get over it.
There are only a couple of poor wretches who die of love once in a while.
Love is as contagious as a cold in the nose.
It eats away at your strength, your independence, your morale, if you have any.
If everything is imperfect in this imperfect world, love is most perfect in its perfect imperfection.

Quarterlife Crisis

2008-03-22T21:27:00.003+05:30

Ok, now I must tell you all that this post is a knee-jerk reaction of sorts...just an hour ago I reached home after driving some 134 km both to and back from the airport to drop off my mother... I was sitting at my table in my room and relishing the peace of the night. I saw a tiny ant walk on top of a copy of Noam Choamsky's Failed States kept on the table, and then it hit me.
It was sudden, like satori.
But not satori.
Only a troubled realization.
Who am I?
What am I here for?
Where do I go from here?
Wondering what the hell I am getting at?
It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.
You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.
You look at your job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you.
Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.
You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.
You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!
What I have realized is that every one relates to this feeling.
We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.
I am 25 and I feel I should talk about this to my twenty-something-year old friends ...
I reckon it will help someone feel like they aren't alone in their state of confusion...
They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis".

The Mad God Who Rolled the Boulder

2008-03-05T17:05:00.006+05:30

O Mother who begot twelve children;
I am the madman among your progeny.
There are no faggots feasting on my dreadlocks,
Neither are my eyes blinded by solid darkness,
Neither is there the naked, base lust that blows with friction
Causing sparks in the flinty corner of my heart.

In the cemetery where the creaky doors to life close,
Where heaps of ash slowly rest their panting breaths,
Sitting in vigilant meditation,like a wick
That burns without burning, I who scavenge
For the Truth am the madman; I who suffer silently am the fool.

For eons, I have built a fire and sat guard
With a filariatic leg, to that Temple where
All temples dissolve into, where all puppetry
Of nobility burns down, the cemetery of life.
I have pushed the boulder up that Hill of
Bloated and sickening dreams of Desire.

As the eight quarters slowly entwine with
The silent creeper of peace and cover my eyes,
Somewhere in my memory a trail takes a turn
To the ancient straight bloodline of Vararuchi.

(To be continued...)

An office online chat...

2008-02-20T19:36:00.004+05:30

Highlander- Ok your last post is a good read....”avaritia”...like the discussion we had in Gurgaon.
Mayz- Ya, I remember
Highlander- Prose for a difference...
Mayz- Ya know… the last paragraph was where i wanted to show a little bit of helplessness
Mayz- thats why in third person
Highlander- Tht's bit like Caesar...He always talked about himself in the third person...
Mayz- hmmm
Highlander- Makes me feel like giving the world an ultimatum!!
Mayz- hmmm...like what?
Highlander- Something like this....
Highlander- All gold n riches under the sky are the same for me...
Highlander- Nothing in the world can shake my firm convictions...
Highlander- Neither do I need any help to feed them...
Highlander- It's easy to destroy; difficult to build....
Highlander- I personally prefer the constructive mode..
Highlander- But there is another side of me that revels and thrives in destruction...complete dissolution...
Highlander- There's another Highlander within me whom I've bound in chains…
Highlander- The wounded animal....
Mayz- da wolf
Highlander- If I start disassembling, I'll not stop...I shall turn everything into it's primal, attribute-less, particulate, basic state..
Highlander- Do not provoke me to destroy anything...
Highlander- Not much good shall come out of it...
Highlander- Don't try to export sand to Rajasthan...
Mayz- u shud write abt this
Highlander- hmmm... but then the hand that throws everything to dissolution or Pralaya...
Highlander- Must be stopped n turned into the Abhay Mudra...
Highlander- That desire must come from within...once that happens the desire shall attain a bodily form...
Highlander- The gentle, protecting, nourishing, forgiving, female half of Yin..
Highlander- To bring chaos back to balance...
Highlander- In English,that means I should give birth to a girl who can then double as my mate.. :-)
Mayz- u shud copy all this n post it in ur blog
Highlander- You think ppl will read such crap??
Mayz- this is not crap man
Highlander- Reads like the thoughts of a guy high on LSD n Vedanta.. :-)
Mayz- i like that state
Mayz- gives mind a different pedestal to think from
Mayz- thoughts gush out liberally
Highlander- problem is that Vedanta's more addictive than LSD... :-)
Highlander- gives you an unexplained high...something feeling alive every moment...may be not on the physical side.
Mayz- life has n never will b physical
Highlander- it has to man...it's the lowest state of life...how else do you type these keys?? :-)
Mayz- we r drones
Mayz- zombies
Mayz- lifeless thoughtless creatures created by d world
Mayz- not d ones god wanted us to b
Highlander- brainless?? existing on others' brains??
Mayz- this is not life as god defines it
Mayz- this is life as WE define it
Highlander- He never defines it man...
Highlander- Yeah, we define it...
Mayz- he calls it nirvana
Mayz- he calls it a balance btwn d stiff n d flow
Mayz- btwn d essence n d core
Highlander- If we fail to define it in this life, we'll do it in the next..
Mayz- we were better off as animals
Highlander- thoughtless, merely existential??
Highlander- do nothing but think abt food, mating n survival??
Highlander- What abt thoughts like peace, love n sacrifice n kindness??
Highlander- I don;t think we would share our food with another if we were animals..
Mayz- who says animals r not at peace?
Mayz- no love u say??
Mayz- no kindness??
Mayz- more than humans...any given day
Highlander- not to anyone out of their type...
Highlander- Have you seen a lion nurse a doe?? or a human??
Mayz- we r men...not humans
Highlander- What's his basic instinct??
Mayz- bahut mushkil hai aadmi ko insaan banana
Highlander- hmm..yeah..but not impossible...
Mayz- coz u r thinkin like a man
Mayz- not as a human
Highlander- no yaar, being human is the highest quality that one can attain...
Highlander- why else do you think the human spirit is exalted so much??
Mayz- coz humans think
Highlander- yeah, and animals can't think to the extent that humans can..
Highlander- if they could, the concept of the food chain would have been obsolete....
Mayz- food chain...man made concept
Mayz- we don’t know… maybe they too have an essence
Highlander- definitely they do…but they're not conscious to be aware of it...
Mayz- coz they r pure
Highlander- Yes, it's man made, though that's what's seen in Nature for ages...
Highlander- No yaar, only that consciousness is pure...
Highlander- once you just be, that means you’re aware of all that exists, existed n will exist..
Highlander- It's from the desire that rose from the unadulterated consciousness that all creation has happened...
Mayz- who says?
Mayz- man again?
Highlander- yes...
Highlander- Even our own limited intellect follows the same principle..
Highlander- You see anyone else talkin abt it??
Highlander- any other form of creation??
Mayz- do we know whether anyone else does?
Highlander- Has there been any written record of a plant or an animal striving to attain Moksha??
Highlander- that's why even in the scriptures, the heavenly gods have to come down to be born as humans to strive for Moksha..
Mayz- man written scriptures?
Highlander- yes..everything has to reach this launchpad....
Highlander- Human stage is just a launchpad, where lies infinite potential...
Highlander- Why else do scientists say that 90% of our potential always goes wasted??
Highlander- It's because of the sheer variety of wonders tht a disciplined human mind can create....
Mayz- mind....not human mind
Highlander- yeah, actually mind only...
Highlander- if the animals had ways to sharpen their creative intellect, then they also would've created wonders...
Mayz- n destroyed everything around like we r doing
Mayz- for own good
Highlander- haan, that's where the dual nature of intellect comes in...
Highlander- the mind and the intellect always will be working towards self-gratification....
Highlander- Whatever be the means...
Highlander- Power to create can both nourish n corrupt...
Mayz- its a double edged sword
Highlander- Yes.....
Mayz- n d worst thing is we don’t know how to use it
Mayz- if we did we would b humans...n that’s y we r men
Mayz- not humans
Highlander- hmmm…there again, we can acquire the ability..
Highlander- I remember reading a book, "Dear children, become humans first".
Mayz- we'll destroy everything by then
Highlander- Not always, there's always something left to carry on the legacy of the human spirit...
Mayz- d thought of niravana...d thought of moksha
Mayz- thats wat is left in d end
Highlander- yes, for it is only by being humans that we can attain fulfilment n also help others do so....
Mayz- exactly...but r v doin that
Highlander- well aren’t all of us unconsciously harboring the same thougtht??
Mayz- its d present we care for
Highlander- yeah..I agree...
Highlander- Dude, I just got a wild idea…I'm gonna post this conversation in my next blog..
Highlander- :-)
Mayz- haha...i was thinkin d same thing
Highlander- HA HA HA!!
Mayz- go ahead
Highlander- he he...Will do...

The End

Love.....

2008-02-14T17:14:00.001+05:30

Love is the blackest of all plagues, and if one could die of it, there would be some pleasure in love.But you almost always get over it.

There are only a couple of poor wretches who die of love once in a while.

Love is as contagious as a cold in the nose.

It eats away at your strength, your independence, your morale, if you have any.

If everything is imperfect in this imperfect world, love is most perfect in its perfect imperfection.

The first time..

2008-02-14T14:41:00.001+05:30

Well, I never thought I'd make up a blog like this, coz I'm too lazy..But a good friend of mine The Fallen Angel (http://www.satanzmantra.blogspot.com/) has been eating away my ears for quite some time with his constant demand that I start a blog on my own...Well here it is...
I think I owe an explanation regarding my blog URL http://www.darkning.blogspot.com/. Well, we get intermittent visions of things during flashes of lightning..Well what if just the opposite of Lightning happens?? Darkning?? Flashes of darkness...That's what I explore here...Normally in private, but now, I've been coerced to share...And actually I don't seem to mind it right now...
Till next post, paakkalaam...