A Blogger’s Suicide and A Piece off My Mind…

Yes, it has been as good as a Blogger’s Suicide for me… Specially on this blog… the only blog that I have associated with the person of me… (The anon blogs are still doing well, just by the virtue of having been around that much longer…) Just when this one had barely started garnering some public attention… A time when, a blogger would actually try putting in a post a day, I had to abandon blogging for a bit… but that’s how life works…

Now, back, I would just like to leave you all, with a PIECE of PEACE off My Mind… The kind that Rain always spreads in my mind and soul if there is anything like that…

The rain pulls off its trick, yet another time…

as its wildness sweeps off layers of emotional grime…

and brings all thought to a standstill…

It wipes off the past and fogs the future…

Leaving all but this moment to dwell upon…

The individual merges with the whole…

and the world pulsates as one universal soul…

neither girth nor depth…

In this moment, tis everywhere…

and in the next, it converges where I was there…

…And there we have, the world in a nutshell…

-THE_WORD

- To My Dearest Lord, The Omnipresent Consciousness in me... sans me…-

मै और मेरी तन्हाई…

Last night, I was going through the sheaf of tattered pages, paper napkins, rough sheets which have piled up over the years, all full of my scribbling… and came across this piece that my be called a poem. It was scribbled some time in my late teens… I had just heard the original composition in passing then… and just barely so… so much so that, I didn’t even recollect the rest of the lyrics but the words- मै और मेरी तन्हाई हम अक्सर बाते करते है- had clung. They struck a chord… probably I connected them with my interactions with my solitude and the idea that someone penned it so aptly thrilled me… It didn’t even occur to me then, that I should probably listen to the whole thing… I actually did that at a much later date, in fact, very recently…
     And as I see it now… the original monologue is more like a discussion in solitude with an object in mind -तुम- while I was just thinking about my interaction with my solitude… we were the reference points…
    None-the-less these are at best the regurgitations of a guy in his late teens, his attempt at word play, juggling with his thoughts, emotions and solitude that was his best friend...

     I would like to dedicate this post to the man who originally brought this immortal thought into the realm of words…. 
note- The poem is written using the Google Transliterator, so there might me a few spelling errors where GT doesn’t come up with the right spellings…

मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बाते करते है||
कभी दुलार से बाते होती है
कभी कर झगडा हम रूठ जाते है
सुलह फिर पल भर में हो जाती है
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बाते करते है||

कभी दुःख की आती है आंधी…
कभी सुख के मेघा आते है…
रोते है दिल मे ही हम तब, दिल  में ही फिर हस लेते है…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

पराजय मे साहस बांधती…
जीत को सर जाने नहीं देती…
नित नित वास्तव की याद दिलाती…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

शाश्वत प्रीत की तलाश मे हम दिल को किसी दिल से जोड़ते है…
फिर जान यह के विफल हुए…बंधन वह तोड़े देते है…
सहलाते है फिर टूटे दिल को…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

कभी कल की यादे संजोते है हम,
कभी कल के सपने सजाते है…
कभी कभी हम आज में जीते, आज ही मे मिट जाते है…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

छिन, छिन.. पल, पल.. जीते है हम,
उस पल उस छिन के हो जाते है…
न अदि की यादे होती है फिर और न अंत की होती है फिक्र…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

(उस) पल ही मे सिमट हम अनंत मे खो जाते है…
समंदर की गहराई को तक पीछे छोड़ जाते है…
आसमां की ऊचाई के भी परेह् पोहच जाते है
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

अद्वैत के आनंद मे हम खुद को भूल जाते है…
वो मुझ मे और मै उसमे…
हम आपस मे समां जाते है…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||

तनहाई जैसे परछाई मेरी… मेरे बिन उसका अस्तित्व नही…
ये तनहाई मेरे संग न होती,
तो में भी कितना तनहा हो जाता…
मै और मेरी तनहाई हम अक्सर बातें करते है||
-कवी ओम

A lover’s plight- A Burning Heart…

     This post is a monologue from an experimental play that we are working on…
     Using a mix of Archaic and Modern Day English in a Contemporary setting… The play is about a lot of things, love being one of them…
     It is a monologue from one of the characters as he awaits his lover to respond after they have had a rift…

“If ye dost love me for real, then for goodness sake, pray!!! call me tomorrow….
Miss You I do…
but cant reach out to you…
And in my helplessness, I wait for you to do  the do…
Will My faith go all in vain…
Or will my mobile its speakers strain… in response to your call…
The Ring tone shall indeed be sweet music to my ears…
Oh! Please Save me from tears…
my beloved one…
This is the time I need you by me;
god knows, where you fly of spirit free…
mindful or un-mindful of me…
On the Verge of my patience I am…
And not un-amazed at your patience too…
How can you remain so cool and aloof…
at the long silence from my side.
Neither text nor call do I have from you,
Asking where things went askew!!!
And why I so suddenly withdrew…
Into this unresponsive shell…
care not ye to find out…
what grieves me???
Or what I go through by myself…
Why aren’t ye by my side now,
when I do so need you the most…
Doesn’t the emotion that we shared between us,
that we called love… make you grab your handset and put a call through???
You really love me, don’t you???
For if I Were you, I’m sure…
I wouldn’t last so long without reaching out to you…
I wonder aloud, but of course to myself….
What’s kept you from getting back to me, all this while…
Even your friend dost seem to want to enquire of me…
But you don’t seem to care, two hoots or three… 
And I feel like a lonely boat set adrift…
Fine… I’ll keep moving on my way…
But miss you, I by all means may…
Will you magically alight besides me- to do away my plight…
I am sure, you quite easily can put a call through to the person you once called, your man…
And that’s why I wonder what’s going wrong!!!…
Or is it just me, who feels the way I do…
And you, just by me, gaily flew…
… when the sun shined bright…
And now, as the shadows grow dark,
and the rays seem to arc…
Where art Thou??? ..
who vowed… to be by my side through thick and thin…
Oh… I love you so,,,
And about the fact of it, you are very much in the know…
then Where art Thou, My Beloved!!!
Come ye hither by my side…
Oh!!! What hath caused this great divide…
Which keeps you from reaching forth….
Like I said, Wait I Shall…
But not for long…
and soon I Shall…
but just move on…
Coz I shall have no alternative…
But that wont Stop me from looking back…
and searching for your lost track…
Peering into oblivion…
Hoping to catch a glimpse of you…
In time… in time… my verse will grow devoid of you…
I would tell myself then, ‘Its only my heart that knew…
How I cherished you…
Only My heart that knew, how I cherished…’
Don’t let this come to pass…
my honey bunch…
Don’t let my heart crunch in memories of- A LOVE LOST…
For promise ye, I this…
Pine I shalt not..
Nary would I dwell on your thought…
But –Falling in Love again-
I would veer off it, by a very long shot…
I would veer off it, by a very long shot…”
-The Word.

Love thy thoughts…

    This one is a poem… a poem about thoughts… thoughts that command love and not the superficial beauty that entices…

It’s my attempt at playing with archaic language, meter and in essence thought… a genre sometimes described or misnomered as ‘Shakespearen’  or ‘Shakespeare like’… would like to know what people feel about it- good, bad, ugly and hence I post it on the blog…

Love thy thoughts

I loveth you not dear one,

just for thy beauty fine,

But the thoughts of thyne…

For it’s these thoughts of great refine,

that can take you beyond  the barriers of me and mine…

And (in the long run)even beyond the thought regime…

These thoughts tell you, that ye art none…

And yet they teach ye, how to be the best amongst every one.

They help you mix in any crowd…

Be it, quiet, abusive or aloud…

It’s these thoughts that dare you to stay astern,

even when the ship seems to be about to overturn…

They don’t let ye lose hope,

when you are slipping over the edge of a cliff and there is no where to grope…

These thoughts make ye try again…

even when your previous attempts went invain.

And even when ye success gain…

These thoughts don’t let ye get vain…

So my dear one,

Loveth me not just for fun…

But for these thoughts, due to which hath our love begun…

The_Word.

What Next???

   Today I have for you a poem- What Next??? A question that probably strikes all minds some or the other time and some minds all the time…
     In a country like India, we solve this question by several means, not quite yet understood by the western world…
      We have, A Bhrigu Samhita,  written by a Mr Bhrigu and his students, supposedly in the Vedic Period, which is stated to have lasted from 1500 BC to 500BC(1)… and it reportedly gives exceedingly accurate bits of information about one’s life based on the birth date, time, the planetary formations at the said date, time etc...
     We also have scores of gods, goddesses, demi gods (360,000,000 to be precise), devils, jinns (genies) and a host of other para-normal creatures who can regulate our future if we perform specific rituals to appease them…
     Besides these, we have a host of god-men, living embodiments of the above mentioned gods who can forecast and at will, change the futures of us mere mortals…
     One such gentleman, Mr Satya Sai Baba, whom I respect greatly for the philanthropic work he has done in the state of Andhra Pradesh, (details of some of which can be read on the following link: (2))… this esteemed gentleman has reportedly saved lives of n number of his disciples at the Shri Sathya Sai Super Speciality Hospital and at other corners of the world (stories of which are abounding online, one such example of Baba’s grace in Trinidad, CO, USA can be checked on this link: (3)… The tragedy of it is, Mr Baba, the saviour of millions across the world, had predicted that he would leave this AVATAR at the ripe old age of 96 and re-incarnate as  Prem Sai 8 years post the demise of this AVATAR (at 96)… Now, the Divine Baba decided to skip this mortal frame at 84, without much ado… with multiple organ failures and several other malaise… his decision  or rather the change of decision that he obviously didn’t convey verbally or for that matter through any of his other multifarious miraculous ways to any of  his close disciples has left a population of several millions (including the likes of Sachin Tendulkar)  across the globe in a limbo… each one probably asking this very question-

WHAT NEXT???!!!

     Having been born in a way of life where so much is left for other’s to predict and regulate, I took to reading palms at a very early age…
      Earlier it was just limited to imitating my grandmother, Sheila Patil, who was an expert in this art or science or whatcha may ya call it…
     Later it became a fancy fashion- being the centre of attraction of large crowds (generally female) in school and in college, who would willingly will their tender hands to the safety and comfort of mine and being the pin point of jealous thoughts of several of my male friends…
         In the long run, it became a study of sorts, having gone through several books, the basic ones like Cheiro Palmistry and the more detailed ones like the Little Giant Encyclopedia: Palmistry (Little Giant Encyclopedias) by Nathaniel Altman, The Complete Book of Palmistry: Includes Secrets of Indian Thumb …  by Richard Webster etc.. and well nigh a thousand palms, of scientists, doctors, engineers, businessmen,  students,
farmers and people from nearly every walk of life…
     The very basic thing that I  understood was that, this question of What Next?… was a question that virtually everyone asked… It didn’t matter how successful or unsuccessful, rich or poor, educated or other wise, one was… and none could answer it for his or her own self… They needed somebody, anybody to answer for them,probably to re-enforce their  belief in themself or create one where it was lacking…
     This poem speaks about just this… the fact that our future is from what we make and not for someone else to dictate…

What Next???

Every one wants to know his or her fate,

What their life holds at a yonder date???

In anticipation of a future state,

Everyone, their excitements abate;

Will they own a large estate

Or have they really been in love of late…

They are ready to quickly put all their faith,

On any Tom, Dick, Harry’s absurd dictate…

Forgetting this (present) day, the joy of being in this moment,

Their egos instantly inflate or deflate…

Depending on the soothsayer’s momentary whim and taste…

When will we realise, that our future is from what we make

And not for any demi-god’s fancy’s sake…

And all that is really in our hands(read palms)

Is living this moment completely and in full wake…

Is living this moment completely and in full wake…

-The_Word

P.S.>> May the holy soul of beloved Satya Sai rest in peace… and mine in pieces… in life and in death…
Technorati Tags:  A Poem, What Next???,Palmistry,Vedic Period,Satya Sai Baba,Cheiro,Nathaniel Altman, Richard Webster,

Bharat Ratna Pt Bhimsen Joshi- ATribute… Part2

 
     Sangeet Manthan 2001… Another tribute to Pt Bhimsen Joshi was organised just a few days after the Dagdu Sheth Sangeet Mahotsav.
                                                   
      On the eve of April16 2011, at the College of Engineering Auditorium, Shivajinagar, Pune… we had Kree Media Solutions presenting three of the finest Contemporary Maestros of Hindustani Classical Music: Pt Jaiteertha Mevundi, Dr Dhananjay Daithankar and Pt Vijay Bakshi paying a  tribute to Pandit Bhimsen Joshi with  their performances.    
  

     Pt Jayteertha Mevundi was splendiferous as he opened the evening with spell bounding renditions of the Ragas- Marwa and Chhayanat and a thumri in Kafi that set the mood of the evening. The eve was intended as a tribute to Bharat Ratna Pt Bhimsen Joshi and Jayteerth‘s ease of flow of musical notes and his Bhim Anna like swar lagav (note stress) which is a speciality of Kirana Gayaki deported the audience into a time and space the music connoisseur Punekar’s seemed to have missed…

     Dr Dhananjay Daithankar’s mellifluous rendition of the teevra and shudha madhyam Raga Maru-Bihag reminded us of his Guru Pt Shiv Kumar Sharma. His, precision of note, immaculate sync with the tabla (tabla by Satyajeet Talwalkar s/o Taal-yogi Pt Suresh Talwalkar) and his mastery over the santoor made it an unforgettable experience.
                                                                
     It was special moments indeed when  Pt Vijay Bakshi the renowned Guru from Lalit Kala Kendra, University of Pune whose name is synonymous to Anvat Ragas for those in the know, gave the audience a grand surprise by taking up Raga Bihag and Jog enthralling the connoisseur and the novice both... Over the years, Panditji has amalgamated and blended several (styles) gayakis of Hindustani Classical Music, predominantly the Gwalior, Kirana and Patiala Gharanas and has evolved a very distinct style of his own… The audience was glued to their seats as he unfolded the two Ragas using Khandmer patterns and extremely complex sargam patterns, etching an everlasting impression on one and all.
      The notes of  the Pandit Bhimsenji’s   Bhairavi ‘Jo Bhaje Hari Ko Sada’ that was played towards the end of the Sangeet Manthan-2011 eve still  linger in my ears as I wind up this post…
These were two of the -Bhim Anna tribute- events that I attended… I have also seen event organisers using to –Bhim Anna tribute- tag as a marketing gimmick… in fact, a lot of the tribute events are using it as a cash cow… well to each one his own…
The_Word…
P.S. >> Just two, probably three days ago, we lost to nature’s mercy yet another singing great- Sangeet Ratna Madhav Gudi- one of Bhim Anna’s best disciples, someone whom Bhimsenji thought would be the torch bearer of the Kirana Gharana post Panditji…
Pt Bhimsen Joshi's Bhajans

Mother Slumber n Professor Em

 

     I was never a “topper” in my class when I saw through my Post Graduates session, but I managed to scrape through… The four seasons that it had me tied down, were interesting for sure, at times happy at others sad… eventful to say the least, but there were times when mother slumber took over at the weirdest of times… in one such session, I badly wanted to sleep through the lecture of one of the most senior lecturers of not just our department but of the university, I fondly call him Professor Em ( short for Emeritus), over 76 (then) if I rightly remember him  telling us, and he had been teaching for over 26 years then…he was cute as a grand dad, had he been that to me, I would have probably adored him, but, he still kept teaching, a talent he had long lost…

     However to give him due credit, he made some excellent transparencies and  just one transparency slide with excellent drawings would explain the most complicated of cellular mechanisms or molecular interactions with great ease and lucidity… If we were to weigh the information in each transparency vis- a- vis the marks it would fetch, I could swear that there were some that were sufficient to answer a complete 12  marks question… The transparencies were so informative that we sometimes felt, that if he would just put up a transparency on the projector, wait for ten odd minutes and then put the next one, we would be better off, than actually listening to his explanation…but it was what we felt, not what could be worked out... He had taught the Director of our School and probably, our Director took special pride n pleasure in seeing every batch in our department through the same torture…

The following is a prosaic  poem of sorts, I penned while, I was battling sleep in an early morning lecture of his, ( a look around the class, told me that so were most others) in fact this was all I could do to keep my eye lids from drooping completely…  I hope you can see the session un-fold through my half open eyes, in this thingy, that I would like to call a poem…

    

Again the lecture draws into a bore,

and the best of them, Sir Emeritus;

with his loud mouthed drawl,

knocks us in and out of a sleepy stroll…

 

Mother Slumber Beckons one more time,

But, Respected Sir, doesn’t give her beckoning a dime;

(And) on he goes and on and on…

with his sermon on plasma membrane

and the molecules that go up and down the drain…

 

“Something”, he says, “is mighty rare”

and the other one, is what, you’ll really find there…

For all this crap, the hell do I care,

But that is what is today’s fare…

and side step it!!! I dare not dare…

 

Thanks to God, he looks at his watch…

and there goes the transparency of the visible notch,,,

But my joy is too premature for it to last,

as another one is put up to watch…

as he goes into more confusing hotch potch…

 

“Another Mechanism”, words that I randomly catch,

as my eye-lids at a fast tempo bat…

“The last part”…such sweet chimes do ring at last…

much abated, my heart skips a beat fast…

 

“Details later”, he says in the end,

Exactly at the moment, my mind is no more ready to bend…

We must congratulate Sir Em, for one thing, after all,

Perfect timing, which is missing in most who teach  for so long…

 

The_Word.