Why i chose to write about such an issue today is because i am feeling utterly bored with myself....and trust me when i say this, you experience love only when you are bored.Revolting?? Okay, here i go.......
When i choose to define love in this part of my argument, i choose to limit my ambit to the grossly overused form of "love" around us. Yeah yeah,the "udta hua duppatta",first kiss, deep eyes- kind of hormonally charged expressions of love.Also, i humbly embrace the next stage of this "business" where you try to "settle" with your so and so object of love or even "call off" your love and subsequently "move on".To exploit the technical jargon, i shall build on the "relationship" quotient of love.
I believe that one can think of falling or better put"rising" in love only when one is satisfied with one's personal, professional and social life to the extent that one can actually desire for more.Remember all proponents of Indian philosophy who talk about desires being limitless? A person who has the luxury of time and resources and the confidence of success in the field of inviting attention can one risk one's life in the terrain of love.Okay, let me be a little explicit...you do not risk proposing a girl before you have had a job or before you can think you have enough to wine and dine her, right?Similarly, you do not risk proposing (and i can claim 90% surety) a guy unless you have had a proper beauty care regimen and have thought the idea through like 10 times.......meaning, in both the situations , you have obscene amount of time and well resources of all kinds(will power, money,friend circle.......blah blah blah)to invest in even considering of being in a relationship.....
Well, Britain and subsequently the Western nations , especially the ones that colonised us once, are suddenly all friendly and bum chums to an alluringly indecent proportions since the past decades.Reason, the stastistics of India being the 2nd most stable economies after China(the other arguments follow this deterministic capitalist definition)..."they" saw lot of potential in "us" earlier and lo and behold! now they see a "friend" in us.....i can not but help notice the change in language......a paradigmatic shift from being a distant, self proclaimed ,authoritative observer to being a "friend" for God sake! It is remarkable how quickly(consider historical and not actual time) the hate of even talking to an Indian has turned to the love of creating........ err... "building" friendship ties. Well, the west constructs or builds on already existing structures and not creates.(Remember?the histories of colonialism and imperialism)
Hmm, i know i meandered from the fever of "love" to the euphoria of diplomatic ties......but wait! i see a connection.Is it not realistic that the idea of detesting and loathing a person from the core of our hearts takes a complete U- turn when we see the new avatar of the same individual cast in the light of success.It can be a guy transformed from a jobless graduate to a fast cash generating machine.....or a fat, dark, short girl as the new slim, 'dusky','petite' urban sophisticate??The idea behind all this chemistry is the key phenomenon-transformation.Well for what and under what circumstances and at what costs,does not really matter as long as you did transform...
Look, the point is that i am a firm believer in change....some writer said, the only permanent reality is change. I dote on these words to the extent that i do not have respect for dead roots, seized in time, proudly boasting the stench of their festered tumour of "Oh!i am still the same guy you met like 90 years ago". But the point is that i also can not stand ridiculous shifts under the compulsion of being"Oh! so cool!" The same nation which aims at putting two square meals a day on every plate in the country charges a measley amount of ten bucks to recharge your cell phone but cannot satisfy the hunger of a worker who sweats out in the open in all weather to construct the same telephone tower or office in a city.If this is how we change should not we not change and lust for more British and American industries but more "friendly" constructive conversations on scrap the air conditioned Mac Donalds and invest in cheaper food tokens for all? I am not an economist but can predict from managing my own expenses that a deal is such is possible-on the grounds that we are 'friendly' and not status conscious.
The over arching view is hate is just a cynical expression of love.We hate because we fall short of love. And we love because that is the only it that exists. We were colonised because we were loved by the west,we were hated in the process because we started to frustrate their expectations from us....and the vice versa. Same goes in relationships too..
Well, did i begin by announcing that i was bored with myself? Yes i am because i have the luxury to love and hate my life at the same time in my absolute boredom of existence....
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Treating myself with interest
A famous writer once claimed that the best gift for man is to be born in interesting times. The statement pronounced in the erstwhile boring and fundamentally unproductive class actually invited my attention. I could not but feel lucky to be a part of this really interesting world.
I am twenty two year "old"- a female, trying to fierciely negotiate the idea of "being" or "becoming" a woman/ lady . Further, my lineage belongs to the socially defined, middle class "shakdwipiya brahmin" family in north India. Better or worse, i am trying really hard to confirm to my self defined idea of becoming an "educated" citizen of a nebulous society i conceive in me with each passing day.
My friend from Kashmir lusts for freedom of his motherland. I am all for self determination in the valley without any slightest trace of doubt. Well, the interesting part is , i aspire to join as a civil servant.
I have genuinely tried my hands at engaging with blind students, child labourers, street children, and other underpriviledged sections of the society but i would totally ignore the column when i fill up the stipulated UPSC form for the examination that curiously and conveniently ignores the existence of hermaphrodites in this nation by asking us to shade the correct block - male or female. It is interesting that i live in the world's largest democracy which enshrines equality as a fundamental right in its constitution.
I have a friend (an upper caste Hindu from the shield-wielding heroic Rajput family in Bihar) who is madly, deeply in love with a Muslim guy (also from Bihar), both knowing very well the risks and dangers of such an affair. It is interesting that i am all for their support but i am equally hypocritical (which interests me all the more for my "liberal" ideas) to even think of accepting such a situation in my life (appreciation is different from acceptance and agreement). It is doubly interesting that i appear all "ideal" to this friend of mine who feels i would not "cheat" my parents. What adds to the confusing parameter of interest is that i love to criticise myself but am coward to actually improve upon the ground on which i stand.
It is an interesting world that i inhabit. My country hosts the dictator of Mynmar and his family members for some religious performance despite the fact that we are a democracy and fail to support the same form of governance there because of "strategic" and "political" reasons. It is interesting that the same Indian culture rants from all quarters of religion, philosophy and moralistic preachings about unity in desire, action and speech.
It is interesting that the times i am born in is full of such oxymoronic definitions. In fact all times are in their spatial and temporal contexts. What i just wish for myself is to be able to see this interest and feel its pulse through me life long. More importantly, i wish to do something about defining this ambit of interest in my own way.....hope that i do not run completely dry with "practical calls" of life.
I am twenty two year "old"- a female, trying to fierciely negotiate the idea of "being" or "becoming" a woman/ lady . Further, my lineage belongs to the socially defined, middle class "shakdwipiya brahmin" family in north India. Better or worse, i am trying really hard to confirm to my self defined idea of becoming an "educated" citizen of a nebulous society i conceive in me with each passing day.
My friend from Kashmir lusts for freedom of his motherland. I am all for self determination in the valley without any slightest trace of doubt. Well, the interesting part is , i aspire to join as a civil servant.
I have genuinely tried my hands at engaging with blind students, child labourers, street children, and other underpriviledged sections of the society but i would totally ignore the column when i fill up the stipulated UPSC form for the examination that curiously and conveniently ignores the existence of hermaphrodites in this nation by asking us to shade the correct block - male or female. It is interesting that i live in the world's largest democracy which enshrines equality as a fundamental right in its constitution.
I have a friend (an upper caste Hindu from the shield-wielding heroic Rajput family in Bihar) who is madly, deeply in love with a Muslim guy (also from Bihar), both knowing very well the risks and dangers of such an affair. It is interesting that i am all for their support but i am equally hypocritical (which interests me all the more for my "liberal" ideas) to even think of accepting such a situation in my life (appreciation is different from acceptance and agreement). It is doubly interesting that i appear all "ideal" to this friend of mine who feels i would not "cheat" my parents. What adds to the confusing parameter of interest is that i love to criticise myself but am coward to actually improve upon the ground on which i stand.
It is an interesting world that i inhabit. My country hosts the dictator of Mynmar and his family members for some religious performance despite the fact that we are a democracy and fail to support the same form of governance there because of "strategic" and "political" reasons. It is interesting that the same Indian culture rants from all quarters of religion, philosophy and moralistic preachings about unity in desire, action and speech.
It is interesting that the times i am born in is full of such oxymoronic definitions. In fact all times are in their spatial and temporal contexts. What i just wish for myself is to be able to see this interest and feel its pulse through me life long. More importantly, i wish to do something about defining this ambit of interest in my own way.....hope that i do not run completely dry with "practical calls" of life.
A wish
I wish i were i again
and not serach my i in you
and not search for you in me
i wish i were
i again!
and not serach my i in you
and not search for you in me
i wish i were
i again!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
At violent peace....
(1)
The reality seems choked,
full to the brim -
trying to spill out of the beams -
already sprawling with the trash,
Sometimes even that hope deludes.
It scuttles away -
like birds who fly from their perch,
at the onset of dusk.
All the while i wonder -
Will reality ever be real?
Will it ever dare come out -
without being stuffed in again?
Till then shall i wait -
just wait?
No speck of grain inhabits the vessel.
It stands empty -
carrying a void,
The waves exploded.
The rock stands
as if untouched, unaware
of the sheer force
of the exploding, gnawing, clawing waves.
Its solid body
against the changing waves.
The rock stands -
heroic and grounded.
That body has ripples
This body definitions
That body spread and ejected
This body accepted then rejected
The form and the action coalesced -
all at the same time.
The waves sought identification.
The rocks seek none.
The waves broke on the rocks
and identified themselves.
The rock stands
self-contained,
The reality seems choked,
full to the brim -
trying to spill out of the beams -
already sprawling with the trash,
the litter,
the abominable refuse.
Each time it tries to ooze out,
the lid is shut -
tight and final,
the abominable refuse.
Each time it tries to ooze out,
the lid is shut -
tight and final,
as if incumbent to stifle.
Each passing day
submits layers of peels.
In the already stuffed bins.
Meanwhile,
reality gasps -
for a whiff of fresh breath in fresh air.
Reality struggles,
hard to survive -
living is out of question now.
Still reality continues
to live on hope -
of a passionately faded dream.
Meanwhile,
reality gasps -
for a whiff of fresh breath in fresh air.
Reality struggles,
hard to survive -
living is out of question now.
Still reality continues
to live on hope -
of a passionately faded dream.
Sometimes even that hope deludes.
It scuttles away -
like birds who fly from their perch,
at the onset of dusk.
All the while i wonder -
Will reality ever be real?
Will it ever dare come out -
without being stuffed in again?
Till then shall i wait -
just wait?
With ironed hands and steeled eyes?
(2)
The hourglass stands empty -
drained and clean.
(2)
The hourglass stands empty -
drained and clean.
No speck of grain inhabits the vessel.
It stands empty -
carrying a void,
a disturbed ennui.
The hour glass grins-
right to my face,
laying bare its invisible teeth.
They are set in a void.
So the hourglass stands -
empty and void.
Unable to resound the echoes.
It stands -
absolutely empty.
(3)
The waves broke
with ferocious intensity
The hour glass grins-
right to my face,
laying bare its invisible teeth.
They are set in a void.
So the hourglass stands -
empty and void.
Unable to resound the echoes.
It stands -
absolutely empty.
(3)
The waves broke
with ferocious intensity
they crumbled -
on the hard, rocky surface.
on the hard, rocky surface.
The waves exploded.
The rock stands
as if untouched, unaware
of the sheer force
of the exploding, gnawing, clawing waves.
Its solid body
against the changing waves.
The rock stands -
heroic and grounded.
That body has ripples
This body definitions
That body spread and ejected
This body accepted then rejected
The form and the action coalesced -
all at the same time.
The waves sought identification.
The rocks seek none.
The waves broke on the rocks
and identified themselves.
The rock stands
self-contained,
self-referential,
self identified.
self identified.
lost, detached, found......
(1)
It seems as if something slipped
just now.
Just as sand slips slowly but swiftly -
down the crevice, in the hourglass.
It seemed as if something detached
just as a leech drops dead from the trees.
It seemed as if something melted
just as a piece of mud melts into a watery puddle.
It just got lost
just as you lose something
without having found it - ever.
I wonder beyond words
what "it" was that i lost.
(2)
I do not want myself to be carved
i want to carve.
Myself, my dreams, my life -
in the moonlit desert,
These desires are violent silences.
Lust, longing, love and life
can all kiss these desires -
the thousand desires of incomprehensibility.
But none can realise even faintly
the momentary shadows of these desires.
These desires are many -
life just one.
An unbridgeable gap
yawning and grinning widely across the night.
(6)
I chewed the bread
that smelt sweet as honey.
I bleed.
I am happy -
in a sad way.
It seems as if something slipped
just now.
Just as sand slips slowly but swiftly -
down the crevice, in the hourglass.
It seemed as if something detached
just as a leech drops dead from the trees.
It seemed as if something melted
just as a piece of mud melts into a watery puddle.
It just got lost
just as you lose something
without having found it - ever.
I wonder beyond words
what "it" was that i lost.
(2)
I do not want myself to be carved
i want to carve.
Myself, my dreams, my life -
in the moonlit desert,
on the deserted path
moving alongside some sand dunes,
passing the high mounds lying bare.
I want to make indentations
scratch crevices -
So that i grin among those high mounds
And become a diminished marker of their heights.
(3)
She tried to breathe.
Determined to inhale deep
moving alongside some sand dunes,
passing the high mounds lying bare.
I want to make indentations
scratch crevices -
So that i grin among those high mounds
And become a diminished marker of their heights.
(3)
She tried to breathe.
Determined to inhale deep
she took dragged in
a whiff of smelly air -
full of chokingly black smoke
that have puffed up in her lungs since.
She drank -
a mouthful of putrid water,
full of crawling germs
that wriggle in her body now.
She saw -
a sight full of nudity,
absolute debasement and depravity
that have haunted her for years now.
The question is-
why does she breathe, drink, see
and worst of all -
dare to dream?
Perhaps because
she has yet not learnt to exist.
Perhaps because
a whiff of smelly air -
full of chokingly black smoke
that have puffed up in her lungs since.
She drank -
a mouthful of putrid water,
full of crawling germs
that wriggle in her body now.
She saw -
a sight full of nudity,
absolute debasement and depravity
that have haunted her for years now.
The question is-
why does she breathe, drink, see
and worst of all -
dare to dream?
Perhaps because
she has yet not learnt to exist.
Perhaps because
even today
she desires to be able to choose.
To live.
(4)
The space stretched beyond her -
an extension of herself.
The space was quiet -
(4)
The space stretched beyond her -
an extension of herself.
The space was quiet -
serenely so,
amidst the vulgar cacophony
of the soundless existence
amidst the vulgar cacophony
of the soundless existence
that had led her -
so far.
She stood -
She stood -
charged and elated,
partaking the infiniteness it offered.
The space motionless and still,
became noisy within her - unpronounced.
She turned pale and restless.
(5)
A thousand desires across the night
pierced the dark silences,
screeching loud and in shrill voices.
A thousand longings hovered
around the spidery web of musty walls
entangled inescapably within its fine maze.
A thousand wants caressed
partaking the infiniteness it offered.
The space motionless and still,
became noisy within her - unpronounced.
She turned pale and restless.
(5)
A thousand desires across the night
pierced the dark silences,
screeching loud and in shrill voices.
A thousand longings hovered
around the spidery web of musty walls
entangled inescapably within its fine maze.
A thousand wants caressed
softly the turgid trunks of the swollen trees.
A thousand wishes across time, place
fancied a small claim over the vulgar vastness.
These desires are dangerous -
furiosly seething in anticipation,
sensuously nursing their wounded visages,
seductively enticing intensities of reality.
In their soft illusions,
their harmless innocence,
their restfull apparitions
These desires embrace
dynamitic explosiveness.
A thousand wishes across time, place
fancied a small claim over the vulgar vastness.
These desires are dangerous -
furiosly seething in anticipation,
sensuously nursing their wounded visages,
seductively enticing intensities of reality.
In their soft illusions,
their harmless innocence,
their restfull apparitions
These desires embrace
dynamitic explosiveness.
These desires are violent silences.
Lust, longing, love and life
can all kiss these desires -
the thousand desires of incomprehensibility.
But none can realise even faintly
the momentary shadows of these desires.
These desires are many -
life just one.
An unbridgeable gap
yawning and grinning widely across the night.
(6)
I chewed the bread
that smelt sweet as honey.
I lost myself in the mirth.
I went unconscious on the lonely path.
I was happy at seeing the vastness ahead
merging slowly in the depth of the horizon
I lost myself in the calm quiet
as if notes sunk in music.
The night set in.
Black with stars, calm with crickety chatter.
I slept to wake up
freshened by the joyous breath of morn
(or was it still night?)
The taste of the honey-dewed bread,
leisurely lingering in my mouth -
I went unconscious on the lonely path.
I was happy at seeing the vastness ahead
merging slowly in the depth of the horizon
I lost myself in the calm quiet
as if notes sunk in music.
The night set in.
Black with stars, calm with crickety chatter.
I slept to wake up
freshened by the joyous breath of morn
(or was it still night?)
The taste of the honey-dewed bread,
leisurely lingering in my mouth -
suddenly sour,
freshly bitter.
Soothingly painful.
The softened hardness of the bite
scraping at my tongue, palate, throat.
freshly bitter.
Soothingly painful.
The softened hardness of the bite
scraping at my tongue, palate, throat.
I bleed.
I am happy -
in a sad way.
Monday, July 26, 2010
A call for self
I am new to the experience of blogging....had been thinking of writing here for quite some time but somehow never managed to convince myself....perhaps my single minded committment to caressing my diary as and when i felt the need detained me from taking this leap........
Well, in this age of absolute fragmentation of one's self(at least i can confirm and certificate my perpetual sense of angst) is not blogging too an expression of our equally palsied social and personal space?Torn apart by our predominantly middle class upbringing of immersed conservatism, our overambitious aspirations of modern achievements and the liberal calls of defying traditions and donning ones own voice,we become a sort of an individual with broken limbs and decapitated body. Biological normalcy indicate life but somewhere the inner flame seems dead. Is not a blog then a space to interact with similar halved consciousnesses across the space that surrounds us?We might differ but we are similar in our differences nevertheless, we might agree but at the same time disagree on our very parameters of similarities..........
It is this realisation of sharing and search that propelled to writing my first blog. Critics are welcome to comment.
Well, in this age of absolute fragmentation of one's self(at least i can confirm and certificate my perpetual sense of angst) is not blogging too an expression of our equally palsied social and personal space?Torn apart by our predominantly middle class upbringing of immersed conservatism, our overambitious aspirations of modern achievements and the liberal calls of defying traditions and donning ones own voice,we become a sort of an individual with broken limbs and decapitated body. Biological normalcy indicate life but somewhere the inner flame seems dead. Is not a blog then a space to interact with similar halved consciousnesses across the space that surrounds us?We might differ but we are similar in our differences nevertheless, we might agree but at the same time disagree on our very parameters of similarities..........
It is this realisation of sharing and search that propelled to writing my first blog. Critics are welcome to comment.
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