Poem: Fly back to your home, baby

From Rahul's blog, "Shelter in the middle of the ocean"

Fly back to your home, baby.

Sometimes you miss the most obvious
Fumbling in mess and blinded by a beautiful obnoxious
All the hints and signs you find superfluous
Cause for the beauty, you are so ambitious

But she waits
For you to adore
the beauty of her soul
that you conveniently ignore


Finally, she, left with no further tacts
decides to settle with the destiny and agrees to facts
the settlement she makes has the wisest impacts
as now, you are the justification of her stupid acts


With some prince of some land
She vows her commitment
"Happy?", you ask
She just smiles in 'settlement'


As the prince waits
ready to fly her to his land
She takes only a minute
to shake your hand


Looking into your eyes, she says,
"I will be there for you, ever and always"
You hesitantly look up to see the haze
having trouble to walk the parted ways


Now this is something new to bare
You never missed her before as she was always there
Where to head, you aren't certain
shoulders aching with guilt as burden


Then some day, a princess of some land
Asks you to take her hand
Clueless you just stare in argument
But then it's your time to smile in 'settlement'

मातृ-भाषा के प्रति

आज में भारतेन्दु हरिश्चंद्र से मिली। The following lines are from his poem, मातृ-भाषा के प्रति (For the sake of Mother-Tongue). You may find the complete poem here. I don't have a very good grasp on Hindi however, I never stop trying. I suppose that's what Bharatendu Harishchandra is asserting in this poem ... If interested in further exploration of his works, you may find a good collection of his poems at this site.

निज भाषा उन्नति अहै, सब उन्नति को मूल ।
बिन निज भाषा-ज्ञान के, मिटत न हिय को सूल ।।
विविध कला शिक्षा अमित, ज्ञान अनेक प्रकार।
सब देसन से लै करहू, भाषा माहि प्रचार ।।

Translation:
Progress is made in one's own language (the mother tongue), as it the foundation of all progress.
Without the knowledge of the mother tongue, there is no cure for the pain of heart.
Many arts and education infinite, knowledge of various kinds.
Should be taken from all countries, but propagated in one mother tongue.

-------------------

Given the time-line, Bharatendu (1850-1885) must be writing with the Indian Mutiny (1857) still fresh in the memories of Indians! The first call for independence must have been a wake up call to a comatose nation that had accepted slavery as destiny. If you read the complete poem, you can see the undertones/overtones - a call for unity of the family who is bound by their mother-tongue, a call to protect the mother-tongue, and so forth. Here are the lines in which I believe lies the soul of the piece. I may stand corrected since I am not very well educated in this language.

इक भाषा इक जीव इक मति सब घर के लोग।
तबै बनत है सबन सों, मिटत मूढ़ता सोग।।

Music is . . .

Music is not just about words and beats. It is also about the emotion behind the rendition. Words turn into music when emotions are weaved into them. And the notes—not just the basic seven, but the hundreds of other mini and micro-notes help to bring out the soul of a music composition.

-Kishori Amonkar

khiloney

दुनिया जिसे कहते हैं
जादू का खिलौना है
मिल जाये तो मिट्टी है
खो जाये तो सोना है

मगर . . .

सोने का है मोल सोणेया
मिट्टी है अनमोल सोणेया!

oh! I have to mention Ghalib's "जादू का खिलौना "

बाज़ीचा-इ-अत्फाल है दुनिया मेरे आगे
होता है शब्-ओ-रोज़ तमाशा मेरे आगे . . .
(Ghalib calls दुनिया a child's game which he is observing daily like a तमाशा )

4 Wise Men

Here are the thoughts of four wise men with variations in their philosophy about action in context to being. Something to think about!

Kant said, "To do is to be."

Voltaire said, "To be is to do."

Sinatra said, "To be do be do."

Flintstone said, "Ya ba da ba do."

hmmm ...

... Somedays you can use some attention! =)

tip toe back again!

some nights have no morning,
some mornings wait for dawn,
hour by hour and drop by drop,
perpetually waiting, marked by a yawn.

some questions have no answers,
some answers make nonsense,
let the world sort itself out,
while I time out on the fence.

all was so different way back then,
monotone and so lazy, still amusing and so crazy.
hiding in a discarded shirt, quietly in the crease,
somewhere are my pieces of Peace!

-jm

Quote: March 15, 2010

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth
until the hour of separation.

-Khalil Gibran

Quote: March 12, 2010

If you don't love me,
it does not matter,
anyway I can love for both of us!

-Stendhal

I want to ... yet I (blah blah ...)

Why do some ideas incubate for so long?

When driving, these brilliant phrases come in the mind and I suddenly feel this amazing rush of bravery in my stomach. Yes - I can do this! I can say what may be perceived as blasphemy but these thoughts must be put out there for whomever to see that revolution of thought never dies. It would only be the writer’s good luck for the reader to come in with the thought that all revolution is conceived from love. That we are forever in revolution for the sake of evolution. Hence, change is inevitable and the only permanent aspect of this existence.

Then when I begin to type that idea – those brilliant phrases, they all slip out of my palm like water. The palm is still wet but the depth of that palm which was holding water in it is gone…!

Fear … oh to be that one again who was me a few moments back. What was it about me that was different? To loose the fear of loosing; to be free of wanting … and to challenge that does not feel right.

Quote: March 11, 2010

An ounce of action is worth a ton of theory.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Quote: March 3, 2010

Time! the corrector when our judgments err.

~Lord Byron

jab bhi tanhaai . . .

this has been one of my absolute favorite Gazals since I first heard Jagjit and Chitra Singh's Black Magic.

I love the somewhat upbeat score used for this fairly poignant poetry to make it for easy listening ... While the poetry may convey a sense of hopelessness, the score downplays that feel with an optimistic beat!

jab bhi tanhaai se ghabrakey simat jaatey hain

hum teri yaad ke daaman se lipat jaatey hain

unpey toofaan ko bhi afsos hua karta hai

voh safeeney jo kinaron pe ulat jaatey hain

hum to aaye the rahe shauq mein bhoolon ki tarah

tum agar haar samajhtey ho to hat jaatey hain

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