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.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Vande Mataram!
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!
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!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The deserted heart..
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??
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??
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
My birth
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!!
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
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.]
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.]
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Really nothing??
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??
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
