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.

Just another Break up Story…

    
     Well, my dear one, to be honest with you, love and emotions akin are not un-charted territory for me… I’ve treaded these paths before and yet, this time, with you, its so completely different… even I cant explain or even try to fathom the length and girth of all the millions of emotions and zillions of thoughts that are crowding in the heart or probably its the mind…(coz the heart is biologically just a pumping organ its the mind that thinks… emotes- there the biologist and the writer in me struggle once again to reach optimum ground… chuck that…)
There is… there is this changeling feeling… within me… a feeling that never was, ever before… and that’s why… am afraid… worried, that if things don’t go as intended… if I cant keep this promise due to others made before… baby, don’t get involved, don’t get attached… coz if I can’t keep my word to you, I’ll fall apart…
 
...this is the gist of what Aaryan had read out to Pakhee in a cubby hole of a cabin at an internet cafe in the heart of the city where they were pursuing their post graduate degrees. A very odd place for a date but like someone once said, the best date is: ANY Place, ANY Time, just me and her… Probably those words held true here more than any place else… That was one of the few spots that afforded them the privacy, couples like themselves craved for in the bustling city... away from the eyes of their peers and the passers-by who were completely unrelated and yet thoroughly interested in such going ons… exactly the atmosphere in a typical developing Indian city...
     She'd smiled, a smile that let out very little… she'd gone on to praise his writing style... "It’s almost like poetry...” she'd said and like any conceited budding writer, he'd basked in the glory... His words had taken effect he'd felt... as she wrapped him in a tight hug..."I love you… whatever happens...” she said... and he probably wondered if she really meant it…
      Whether it was real keen concern on his part  for the girl he so loved or was it just the tact of a sly fox who wanted to feast on the sheep and not be blamed for it, is an emotion I couldn’t fathom. But he seemed to be contented with the result... was it an expression of care for the girl in his arms... deep care and a relief that he had conveyed his feelings to her or was it just the complacence of a hunter who knew that the hunted had taken bait... it was very difficult to surmise.
     It was nearly 9 months since and both of them were sitting in a secluded cafe not very far away from the cubby hole, it was the end of the term and also of their PG final exams... it was time to go back to their respective worlds… Worlds they had left behind nearly two years ago, back in their own cities... and made one of their own making… Their world was coming to an end and both knew it. It probably could have been otherwise, it could have been a new beginning if only they would have chosen to make it that way… but...
     The cubby hole and their conversation 9months ago, flashed across his mind… life had taken a complete circle... "I don’t love you…" she’d just told him... "I mean I do love you... just not LOVE… LOVE...", she added stressing on the 'LOVE' conveying what she intended... he had smiled... an enigmatic smile, he felt, which would not let on what thoughts were coursing his mind at that pin point in time...
     He spoke nothing for a few moments, just studying her as she sat across the table, his gaze giving out nothing... at least he hoped nothing of the crazed thoughts that coursed through his mind... and he seemed to have the effect he expected..
     They had been together for the past- nearly a year; his thoughts went back to the night when he was sitting comfortably in the Volvo heading back home; he'd covered nearly 2hours of the 11 hour journey back home, it was his birthday the following day and he'd planned to spend it with his family... laid back comfortably in his seat listening to Raven crooning 'You are my Angel, my Darling Angel...' when his mobile buzzed in his jeans pocket… not expecting any one to disturb his peaceful slumber then… irritably he fished it out and his mood changed.. "Tell me, my Angel… wassup?" he said answering the call… after the initial discomfort, the mandatory sweet talk in fledgling relationships, Pakhee'd said in that sweet sing song dis-heartened voice, "Oh… you are going home for your birthday…" she had paused a bit and then continued…"I'd thought..." and her voice had strayed off as if distraught... just the kind of thing to weave yarns around a guy's heart… his heart skipped a beat, "Want me to come back?" he'd asked and she'd replied in the same unsure voice, "will you?"… The network had gone bad just then and the conversation had come to a halt. He'd gotten down at the next stop and traversed the 2 hours back to meet her in a bumpy State transport bus… 'RED BOX' or ‘Lal Dabba’ as it was popularly called... that was what it was indeed… a motorised red box..
     The next day they'd met in the same place, they were sitting now; it had been her idea, “None of our friends go there", she'd said. It was one of their very first dates and they were taking the kind of care a pair would want to, on those first few times... surprisingly, both of them had taken the same precaution all throughout after that… probably both of them didn’t really want to make their charades, public..
     They'd spent his birthday hopping from one joint to another, talking; giggling looking into each other’s eyes, just looking… sitting behind him, on the bike, she'd just started clinging to him closely… they had started exploring the closeness…
     He’d felt a guilt pang when he'd phoned back home and informed that he wouldn’t be able to come coz his college hadn’t permitted the leave... and that pang of guilt shot painfully back again, as he sat in the very same seat once again, today…watching her wringing her fingers in un-ease, her hand moving to her hair putting into place an invisible strand, her face wrought in a sheepish expectant half smile.. "Remember"... she continued, “you were the one who had asked me not to get involved..."
     '…So even she remembers it... and she is using it to her own benefit now...' He smiled inwardly to himself. (This was another time I couldn’t fathom the intent of the character’s emotion… There are some things the characters like to hide even from their creators…) She braced herself, her hand moved  swift but unsure, across the table touching his, "say something", his expression remained unchanged for another- long moment , thinking to himself...'Why did she want to say this now... especially when just yesterday...'
     They had been snogging at his place when his roomie had left the apartment to facilitate their private rezendevous… In his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms; she'd asked him helplessly, "Aaryan, what will be of us?” He’d whispered into her ears, “I’ll do anything in my power to keep us together. But if it doesn’t work... promise me you'll move on...” She had said nothing for a never ending moment her face buried in his chest... then she'd whispered back, “I will...". Even then, his suggestion for her to move on… had left me surprised… was it the sacrifice of an honest lover…or was it the sly fox looking out for a safe exit, again...
     ‘...why after all that??'… He questioned himself... all in his mind of course... those few seconds saw a million emotions flashing through his mind... (probably the sly fox did rejoice in the easy -no pain- escape. Probably he didn’t…) …for less than a fraction of a second his face contorted into what could have been defined as pain, anger, devilish joy any of those banal emotions or a combination of them… but his face was back to the same steadfast smile as his mind raced back once again to days before they really got to being together…
     They had started off being thrown together during the early days of their college when the seniors went around with their timbered down version of what is now a days socially abhorred and legally incriminating -ragging-… Authorised by the Director of the School, the seniors got an opportunity to, 'interact with the freshers… as the Director had himself put it in his introductory address...
     Being the most rebellious and the most active in the batch they had been thrown together… he remembered when the seniors had asked them to role-play... she was to sell vegetables and he was to buy them. Stupid as it seemed, he'd had fun with this trendy vegetable vendor wanting to sell him soya beans n French beans… "Since when did vegetable vendors start selling soya beans", he'd chided her and from then on he'd had her nick named soya bean...
     His smile widened as he sat across her and this confused her further… quite unsure of what was going on behind those twinkling eyes... for a moment she felt a pulse searing pain in her mind... ‘Had she done the right thing???’ She started thinking... ‘Had it been really necessary say, what she had??? They'd probably just have drifted apart naturally and…’, she felt an urge to cry, which she gulped down…
     But he still refused to respond... 'Has he lost it!!!', she questioned herself… while his mind drifted to the time when one of the imbeciles -the seniors- had asked if any of the freshers knew the nursery rhyme-Old Mac Donald... and as was the fate's decree, it had only been these two who'd remembered it… since he'd started calling her Soya Bean, she'd been a bit put off with his overtures and she came over standing very stiffly next to him as they started humming the rhyme but with all the animals on the farm and his charming effervescence…he had overcome all the stiffness by the time they ended their out of tune rhyme.
     They had gone through a large part of the first year, just this way; getting at each other’s nerves sometimes, and yet surprisingly, working perfectly in sync when teamed up. He smiled on as he remembered how they had been purposefully teamed together by their class mates during practicals, for such things don't really go unnoticed. A cat can drink all the milk she wants with it’s eyes closed but others do see it. Always getting on each other's nerves they made a splendid team, always complimenting each other's skills.
      Then again he remembered the time when their class forced them to anchor the farewell party; towards the end of their first year. By then, thanks to the peer pressure and to themselves; they had this very explosive love hate relationship on…
     Memories of the day when most of his class had gathered up at his place… The girls had occupied the living room to put together a dance while the love birds were holed up in Aaryan’s bed room with two of their class mates to get about scripting the anchor's lines... but what ensued among the guys was more of a banter... picking at each other, passing vulgar comments on the chics, while she listened on sitting as if she didn’t exist there. In the midst of it Aaryan happened to make a naughty pass at Pakhee, she screamed and ran after him… both of them ran around the house shouting after each other… taking some of the girls in the living room by surprise; disturbing their formations and creating a ruckus. Annoyed and amused, Monica the choreographer and one of Aaryan's closest chums in the class spiked out, "Love birds…I thought you were working on your script…” Coy and annoyed Pakhee went into Aaryan's room, he followed in and his friends moved out at the same time… "You two stop bugging around and do some productive work", Raj said aloud in mock sternness and "let us enjoy the chics grooving", he added in a whisper as he moved past Aaryan, out of the door.
     Back inside, Aaryan ever ready with his flair for language, quick scripted a few opening lines while Pakhee put on a fake sulk. "Let’s try them out", she suggested after a bit and both of them stood up for rehearsing, as if on stage… Still acting annoyed from the teasing, she was her uptight self as she stood next to him. Looking at her lithe frame slightly shame faced but not un-amused Aaryan said, "Did you take it very bad...erm... the teasing..." Putting his hand across her shoulder..."I am sorry"… he added. Suddenly she clung to him, holding him tight..."no"... is all she uttered…as he held her tighter… for a few moments long or short they didn’t know, coz it felt like eternity...
     Suddenly, jolted back to reality exactly like they were jolted back in those unending moments, when a titter broke off in the living room… Aaryan said..."yes, you are right... I did ask you to not get involved…” She smiled uncomfortably, "I didnt say I didnt love you…It’s just not LOVE… LOVE…" she repeated the expression... "I mean... I dont know what I mean..." she went on... His smile beamed on, obviously relishing her discomfort, "I know what you mean", he said after a moment's pause...
-A short story by -The Word-
 
I care for you,
I like you too…
And that is why, I cant Lie to you…
Oh!…Baby dont love me…
 
Coz all it will do,
is hur~t you..
Oh!.. Baby dont love me…
 
We will play and go astray…
We will make love…just all the day…
But… Oh!… Baby dont love me…
 
Its not just lust…
There’s a lot of trust…
n that’s why I say…
Oh!… Baby dont love me….

 
Author's note- The above short story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone/ any place or any incidents alive or dead is purely coincidential...

soul searching

     Soul searching… is what those people who believe that the soul is at the core of everything would call it… 

     Most around, make no attempts at it, at least no covert ones… and most of those who do are at some stage scared… scared of losing everything- losing their identities in the search… scared of survival… survival, not just at the mundane physical level but at the level of thought…

     They probably fear that if they probe  deeper, the thoughts may go out of control, that they might lose themselves in the fray…. they would lose their identity the -me- in the process and everyone is probably afraid of that…  Losing the -me- that is the rallying point of one’s existence, physical and mental- conscious, sub-conscious, un-conscious…

     Now, that is what, I believe the Sanatan* way of thought talks about when it discusses non-duality- when it says that the seer and the seen ends, the seeker and the sought ends… the thinker and the thought ends…

      Not a stage beyond conscious thought- delving into sub-conscious or un-conscious layers but a stage beyond thought as an absolute. Coz, if the -me-, the source all thought ends, wouldn’t the thought end for the wont of the thinker???…

     Or would the thought go on, just as thoughts without an origin and unto no end… is that the fear??? That one would end up, just a jangle of thoughts no beginning, no aim and no end, no identity except that of being a complex confounding jangle!!! and no one to perceive that identity either…

          A funny state of affairs to perceive, now, when one can actually think, when the thinker and the thought are both still intact… 

     That is probably why we see across the world-

     …people seeking solace in cults, communities, religions, religious leaders, guiding spirits and gurus offering peace- promising the bliss of knowing the secret to perennial happiness, but what most end up preaching is, things like, how to keep positive thought stepped up by regulating the thought process in a particular way or mechanical/physical techniques of increasing certain types of endorphins that keep one in a bliss - like state..

                                                     OR

     …people rallying around hard rock bands that jamb the thoughts using sound and other intoxicants to create similar bliss like states…

…sadly none of these actually give permanent bliss…

The _Word.

P.S.- Sanatan way of thought- the thought process that bears origin in the  Sanatana Dhara- Jambhudweepa the Indian sub continent, often mis-nomered the Hindu religion.

love a wierd one- flings, affairs, explanations and answers.. part three

Someone, a very dear someone, once asked me, if I was running away from love… lets answer her today and hope she’s chances upon it, sometime in her life… however far into the future, the chance event happens…

     Nope, I haven’t ever run away from love, in fact I have always stared it in the face… and tasted it in a myriad flavours and yet, the flavour that I seek, the traces of which I carry in my mind- conscious, sub-conscious or un-conscious, I know not myself, but I know it’s there, for each time, I taste a new flavour, find it in a new form, I know, that’s not what I seek…

…..at times, it feels, like I have found it… yes, finally I have, the heart skips many beats and the mind races on mindlessly, it seems that it’s all there, every bit of the essence that I seek, the sweet music of romance reaches a crescendo, bliss knows no bounds and then it all collapses… collapses like a palace, a large palace…a beautiful palace… a palace of cards…

     ...then, I wake up, as if from a dream… knowing that, it wasn’t  for real… it just felt like it was… it was love, but not what was sought… not the flavour, that lingers on the tip of the tongue, but never quite settles down… there is never an absolute, always some ingredient missing…

     Shattered, I wake up… but surprisingly good to go, probably coz, I’m used to it, now or coz, I’m wired that way or maybe I realise that I haven’t really lost anything, that was mine to lose and on I move again, in search of the feeling, the flavour that’s mine… one that I hope, (I hope against hopes hopen!!! As Mr Nash* puts it…) dost exist… but I know not, if it does…

*Mr Nash- the poet- Ogden Nash

-The Word.

love a wierd one- flings, affairs, explanations and answers.. part two

     There was a professor, that I once knew, who took one of his students out on a `lunch date’ and the affectionate relationship he shared with this student was a hot topic of discussion across the department. Now, once the student confessed to the professor, that she couldn’t define what she felt for him, but whatever it was- was a very special feeling…  The married, gentleman-rogue professor, in his turn, hugged the girl and told her that some relationships needn’t be named or defined.  Now there would be those, who would abuse the professor and pass him off for a lecher, for playing around with someone half his age and a student, at it… and there would be others who would appreciate the mutual affection, maturity and the platonic nature of the relationship…( I personally can do neither…)

    

     On another such occasion, I tried to dig into another such intelligent mind, who was a publicly signed off philander and he came up with a very interesting thought process, rather long but very simply put,” there is love in degrees…relative love,” he said to me, “I may love the A more than B… so when a girl asks, how can you love her if you love me or vice versa… I may be tongue tied for the wont of the ability to explain this fundamental of `relativity of love’ but it exists none the less…”…” then there is the burden of ethical loyalty involved in goings on like these…”, he went on, as if he’d never gotten a chance to explain his point of view, before, “ a burden imposed, probably not unreasonably by the society and the culture that has evolved there in… when, you love someone, you have to be loyal to her, they say… I agree to this in effect that, even though I may love A, B and many more so, I can never love another, the way I love A, my love for A is very unique and unmatched for, I can never emote for another, the way I emote for her… and such is the case for the B and everyone else that I love… in fact there is no scope for being dis-loyal… You can’t love two individuals the very same way… for the simple reason that they are two different individuals… and if the argument for loving only one person held any sense, then no one would go beyond loving their own mothers, who is the first person, I believe, one loves in all his/her life, though that is love in a different flavour completely, but it is love, none the less… “…. Now that was such a long soliloquy that I didn’t want to add any further sentence breaks in that one…  now, whether you call it just an excuse to clear his own conscience off his shenanigans or a honest expression of an understanding of thought process break down, is for every individual to analyse…

Cont..d in part three...

love a wierd one- flings, affairs, explanations and answers..

“What I feel for you, is the closest, that I can feel to love for any one… probably, I’m just wired that way...” 

     Love tis such a weird one… a very funny and a complicated emotion. There may be thousands nary millions who’ve written books over it, talked words worth miles if measured in length...  Each one perceives it as it appears to him/her. Multi-layered and splendiferous, it leaves no one untouched… though the degrees of contact, understanding and perception may vary and so may the approaches… There is love in Moulin Rouge, Hir Ranjhaa, Laila Majnu… the romanticised, glamourized version, the so called eternal, platonic love… (…as platonic as it can be, when two passionate lovers are involved) … the love that metaphorically lasts for ever...

    Then there is the love the fickle one, that changes by the season, passionate while it last and fizzles out just as fast… and then it catches up again, just as passionately, but with another muse… there will be a million out there, who would detest their sacred idea of love to be made so mundane and crass so as to call these flings- love, but tis love, none the less… one has to experience it to know, its love…

     And of course, there is more to the types of love than just these, every relationship augers a different flavour of love, the love between a parents and children, the love between siblings, friends, people in a community, country … and god knows where else this emotion will blossom….

     There was a professor, that I once knew, who took one of his students out on a `lunch date'.....



Cont..d in part two...