tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70006746991963591402024-02-19T07:29:31.457+05:30Too important to hide,too insignificant to express.There can be a few moments when I feel like a writer. This blog truly reflects those moments.Bear with me.Aimless Inquisitivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03204025673420431999noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-73561586743178552002014-10-30T22:14:00.000+05:302014-10-30T22:14:07.379+05:30The Wind, The Cloud and The Tree<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; direction: ltr; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: 120%; }p.western { font-family: "Liberation Serif","Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; }p.cjk { font-family: "Droid Sans Fallback"; font-size: 12pt; }p.ctl { font-family: "FreeSans"; font-size: 12pt; }</style>
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<br />
<div class="western">
I am the strongest, said the wind, bloating to the
cloud, I can carry you anywhere I want, It doesn’t matter how much
you want to rain in the dry places, I take you to places where I
please and there you come down.
</div>
<div class="western">
The cloud was silent because he knew it's the
truth. But he hated the wind so much for his arrogance. So he thought
of this. “I know you are strong but you are not strong enough to
take on whom I nurture.” he said.
</div>
<div class="western">
“Oh come now, there is none like that. I can
create cyclones and storms, I can carry things to another side of the
world, I can do whatever I wish.” the wind said. After a long
pause, he added, “thank to God” which he felt will prove his
humility which was not really the case.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The wind became suddenly hopeful when he realised
that it will be difficult for the wind to challenge whom he is
thinking of. He said, listen wind, I know what you can do but still
you can't make this one, the one I am talking of, obey to you or
listen to you.”</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
Wind was really irritated by now. “Lets go and
see cloud, your admirer will be as weak as you and I will win over
him in no time.”</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
They both agreed, and flew together, the wind
carrying the cloud, to the forest where the wind takes the cloud
every monsoon and the cloud stays there and for three months,
watering the trees. The old trees find life, the new trees grow
faster when the cloud is there and all these trees loved him.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
There is one tree, however, which is the
challenger the wind has thought of. This tree is a strong one and
almost at the middle of the forest. He is the tallest of them all and
looking at his trunk and the branches, he is the strongest of them
all. He shelters numerous birds and insects on him. He guards those
from the rain with his leaves. He tries to stay still when these tiny
nests have eggs or new born so those don’t topple over. And when
these newborns jump and try to fly for the first time, he smiles and
watches. Then when they can fly, the parent birds teach the young
ones to thank him and they all fly away together, after thanking him
from the deepest corner of their heart. Everybody loved him. Even
weaker trees look at him and relies on his strength to handle the
strong storm.</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
This is the tree which the cloud had in his mind
as the challenger to the wind. They flew and both reached him. From
up above the sky, the cloud pointed the majestic tree to the wind. It
is easy to recognise him from that far above as there is no other
tree like him in the whole forest.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
“That is the friend who I am talking about. He
is the king of the trees. Listen wind, if you can make him obey you,
the whole forest will listen to you” the cloud said.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The wind started to work immediately. He went down
to the tree and said, “hello sir, I am wind and I am having an
argument with the cloud, your friend. He says if you obey me as
superior, he will accept me as superior. As you know I am the
strongest force in the world, please accept my powers and I shall
reward you”</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The tree was surprised. He said, “cloud is my
friend and he helps me maintain this forest and all its inhabitants.
When my leaves are dirty, he washes it, when my roots are dry he
waters it so I can live and bear fruit. He waters my whole kingdom.
How can I leave him and join your side?”</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The other trees were listening to this
conversation. The wind felt insulted. He said” if you don’t
listen to me, I will ruin you. First I will break your branches and
then uproot you. Then, while dying, you will see me running havoc and
destroying everything you love. Do you want that?”
</div>
<div class="western">
The tree said, “the cloud has done many things
for us. What have you done? Go back to where you came from.”
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The wind was really angry. He went up in the sky,
took a deep breath and started to blow at the tree.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The tree was a strong tree. He started shielding
nests with his leaves. At least 2 nests have eggs in them and 1 has 3
new babies. They must not fall. His powerful branches covered the
initial attack.
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeQU4dpvCeYj-cn2W37VPjT0agjrfwRsrNZQdf_sm4TgpVfEwIJ5n-mJOfLt2mAyqODcUosv1KGWOD8778g2MufVBY9O3umh5JVauzT2BwD1WqhvFCoWAAOqJ77vOyXVyNyOIpnRXhfna/s1600/wind+blowed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeQU4dpvCeYj-cn2W37VPjT0agjrfwRsrNZQdf_sm4TgpVfEwIJ5n-mJOfLt2mAyqODcUosv1KGWOD8778g2MufVBY9O3umh5JVauzT2BwD1WqhvFCoWAAOqJ77vOyXVyNyOIpnRXhfna/s1600/wind+blowed.png" height="250" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wind blew hard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<br />
<div class="western">
The wind didn’t give up. This one is stronger
than I thought. He started blowing harder. The branches started
shivering. The tree put its root firmly in the earth and started
protecting. But even with all his strength, he was shivering
slightly, from this very strong wind. He started losing the leaves
which were covering the nests.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
You are so stubborn, shouted the wind from the up
above, give up else I will blow stronger. The tree didn’t reply,
his whole body ready for next attack.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The next attack was vicious, the wind didn’t
blow directly this time but came down in a circular way right on top
of that tree. The roots were holding to the ground as fast as they
could and the solid thick branches were really trembling from this
incredible attack from the wind.</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
Finally, the wind could twist one arm and break
it. The thick branch fell on the ground with a thud. Noooo, the tree
screamed, less from his pain than from realising that one nest with
eggs and another with new borns were on that branch. They all crashed
on the ground. The forest watched in horror, nobody saying a word, in
fear of the great wind coming against them.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
The wind, from far above, said, “say I am the
strongest and the greatest and save whatever dear is remaining. “</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
“You might be the most powerful but you are
never the strongest and you will never understand the difference
between them.” the great tree, wreathing in pain, replied.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
“Fine then”, the wind went for a stronger
circular wave and hit the tree. This time, three major branches, all
weak from previous attacks, fell down. The tree screamed in pain
every time one branch fell off. He cried, loud enough for the whole
forest to hear clearly, for his physical loss and loss of every nest,
insect, bird, eggs, newborns and orchids which was living depending
on him.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.supercoloring.com/wp-content/original/2009_05/storm-coloring-page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.supercoloring.com/wp-content/original/2009_05/storm-coloring-page.jpg" height="357" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The large tree swayed as the cloud watched helplessly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<br />
<div class="western">
Now he stood, naked, only the main trunk remaining
along with some smaller branches.
</div>
</div>
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<br />
<div class="western">
The wind might be the most powerful force in the
world but he is surely not infinitely strong. Nobody, except God is
infinitely strong. When the wind summoned his final strengths and
prepared for the final assault because even now the tree denied
considering him the strongest, the tree prayed to the God.</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="western">
“God, dear God, don’t make me fail. If I fail,
all the trees will fail. I am their king, their courage and their
hope. Their sovereign and their strength. Let me stand and face this
final assault.”</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="western">
The wind launched his last assault. The weaker
surviving branches gave away easily as this was the fiercest of all
the attacks. The roots almost gave up as the wind put each drop of
his power behind this attack. The tall naked, bruised body of the
tree swayed helplessly, bending and the tip almost touching the
ground. Then it broke from midway. The wind also stopped because he
was totally spent.
</div>
<div class="western">
<br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="western">
“I have done it, I have ruined him” the wind
panted to the wind.
</div>
<div class="western">
“but you said, you can make him agree that you
are the strongest. He didn’t confess that. He broke staying true to
his principles.” the cloud replied. The wind was silent.
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.arborday.org/media/stormrecovery/images/hopeless.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.arborday.org/media/stormrecovery/images/hopeless.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New sprout came where the great tree broke</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<div class="western">
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<br />
<div class="western">
The God, to whom the tree prayed, was not idle
either. He saw everything and saw how the tree stayed true for what
is true and just. He sent his angels to the tree who healed the
wounds and the cloud rained him his sweetest water and next day,
there was a sprout, just where the body of the tree was broken.</div>
</div>
</div>
Aimless Inquisitivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03204025673420431999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-52444759818601676632014-10-16T22:53:00.000+05:302014-10-17T17:01:56.220+05:30The Dogs And The Moon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The ugly dog called for a meeting. Not that the other dogs were very fond of him. But they agreed to meet in the park, after all human have gone to bed. They met there, all 17 of them. These are the dogs of that village, who eat whatever are leftovers and stay awake all night protecting the people of the area, even when people didn’t ever care about them. If they ever breached the trust, especially when hungry and trying to take a little more food from someone's house, they never said “oh you poor thing, you must be so hungry, eat as much as you can, for without you we couldn’t have slept peacefully at night.”. This sulk was evident. <br />
<br />
The ugly dog suffered the most. Once while being chased away, he ran in front of a passing cart and was severely wounded. Nobody really cared, except for a few other dogs. This ugly dog was a young and strong dog that time. He survived, but his wound, which later grew into ulcers, was never cured completely. With one eye almost gone, a great big raw patch of meat without the cover of the rotting skin, he was really ugly. This is why he doesn’t even take part in the night patrol either.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/moon-over-harvest-village-amy-scholten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/moon-over-harvest-village-amy-scholten.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The village looked like the heaven on full moon nights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
People, all the dogs believed, are only crazy for the moon. However, what good has it done to them? Nothing, just nothing. It doesn’t even glow brightly enough to make the jobs easy for the dogs or for the widow of the tailor who needs to sew all night to raise two young children. It doesn’t glow brightly enough to put the scare of the dark away from the children. It doesn’t help grow the corps. It doesn’t let you stay warm during those freezing cold nights. What good is it then? Why do people keep on talking about the moon. Why they mention the moon when mentioning the night and not the dogs who really own the night ? <br />
<br />
The ugly dog, who had nothing to do, except to curse the people and the destiny which put him in this condition and wait for a miracle to get cured, fuelled these ideas. This is why the meeting is there. One must protest about this injustice. <br />
<br />
They all gathered in the park. The ugly dog, who never failed to take the centre stage, even when nobody wanted, took the centre stage. In a deep, hatred-filled voice, he started, “friends, its we who always work. Its we who serve the community. We sacrifice our night sleep to keep them safe. Yet, have you heard them ever talking about us? It's always that moon, which serves them no purpose. I say, we must protest against this. The human are too powerful to protest against. Moreover, they can't control the moon. We will demonstrate our agitation directly against the moon.”<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2rSRQSpxO38hZvbnFUIt_lSae5GlPmzcgy13ETO-32XaZLuFp_Kd5r53w8-z9Nl4DDqVZQ-__37n0YxsuMuuIgpO3Tphb9sb4EhP5FCw6b68Zlj9LAmxlQ39dTgzABlxG9J61yPvJB4/s1600/CH08_001_home_on_moon_litho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2rSRQSpxO38hZvbnFUIt_lSae5GlPmzcgy13ETO-32XaZLuFp_Kd5r53w8-z9Nl4DDqVZQ-__37n0YxsuMuuIgpO3Tphb9sb4EhP5FCw6b68Zlj9LAmxlQ39dTgzABlxG9J61yPvJB4/s1600/CH08_001_home_on_moon_litho.jpg" height="193" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the dogs listened to the ugly dog.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Aye, aye, a few dogs agreed half-heartedly. Others remained silent,wondering what is it all about or how it can be successful. <br />
<br />
“We will put the moon to shame” the ugly dog continued, “and we will shout slogans till it withdraws and never shows up its face again. Its we, who must be praised, adored and talked about. Let dogs replace the moon and reclaim the place we rightly deserve”<br />
<br />
Hear hear, said a few dogs, more in number this time, and the voices finding strength as well. <br />
<br />
“We will go every night to the big vacant field outside the village boundary, which is barren nowadays as the farmers have taken the crops home. There we shall achieve our goal, in the name of whatever is holy”<br />
<br />
A loud and exuberant approval came from all the dogs. <br />
<br />
Then they followed the ugly dog to the big barren field outside the village. Determined to bring this to an end, for once and all. <br />
<br />
The moon, unaware of these happening, realised, it's his time to show up. The nightingale must be waiting to sing. The kids must be waiting to watch the old woman who stays on the moon. The loving couples must be waiting for him to make their heart feel the purest love for their partners. The night queen is waiting for him to blossom. The mothers must be waiting for him so they could sing and call him to their aid and help them put the baby to sleep. The poet is waiting to find new inspiration for his new poems which he must read in the court of the king tomorrow, he needs the moon. Removing the cover of the cloud, the moon, the bright moon of the 12th night, showed up smilingly. <br />
<br />
Everything happened as he expected, the nightingale welcomed him crooning her sweetest songs. The night queen blossomed, just beside the tiny dilapidated house of the poet. The poet looked at the moon and smiled and took out his paper and ink. The kids excitedly tried to guess what the old woman must be doing and the babies started falling asleep looking at the smiling and beautiful face of the moon. <br />
<br />
The dogs were ready, there there, screamed the ugly dog, with his broken voice. “Let's make this happen brothers”, he demanded. The dogs started to bark, loud and hoarse at the moon. <br />
<br />
The moon is too far up high to for their voices to reach him. The moon, neither expecting nor hearing anything didn’t pay any attention to them. Instead, he moved even high up the sky and started to smile even brighter. The world, the village, washed by the soft white moonlight, looked like a poet's dream of the early hours of the night, or like the the heaven. <br />
<br />
“Its not working, its not working my brothers” the ugly dog urged as loudly as his weak lungs allowed him, “lets go even higher”. “Get lost you shameless moon. What good have you done to anyone? You can't even makes the work of the dead tailor's wife easy.”<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NmmGXXENhBA/TwSXFtxNmGI/AAAAAAAACfM/uNG5MPT9TUY/s640/1---Rufino_TamayoDog_Barking_at_the_Moon%201988%20lithograph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NmmGXXENhBA/TwSXFtxNmGI/AAAAAAAACfM/uNG5MPT9TUY/s640/1---Rufino_TamayoDog_Barking_at_the_Moon%201988%20lithograph.jpg" height="292" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ugly dog barked loudly against the moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Picking up from him, another dog shouted, “we serve many more purpose than you can with all your might. If you have little of shame, get behind the clouds and never come out”<br />
<br />
They started to bark with zeal and louder. So louder that even the villagers could hear it. Something must have gone wrong. They decided to check out. <br />
<br />
They followed the sound and reached the barren field and realised that the dogs were shouting at nothing. Irritated, they chased the dogs away but didn’t say anything. They went home. Some of them went to sleep. Others sat near their wives and said, isn’t the moon so beautiful my love? <br />
<br />
The dogs ran for their lives and escaped the villagers. “But we must not give up” said the ugly dog and others agreed. <br />
<br />
The next night was 13th nights. The anticipation was there, moon came, the usual appreciation followed. The dogs, ready this time, with more members, barked as hard as they could to the moon. “Oh, only if you were really beautiful. Only if you didn’t have those ugly marks right on your face. You can't even talk, you are dumb” they screamed. Nobody was there to tell the moon what’s happening and he continued to smile all night. <br />
<br />
The villagers, followed the noise this time again and was again disappointed. They chased the dogs away harder and further this time. They must have gone crazy, the villagers thought. <br />
<br />
It was the next night, the night of the 15th. The ugly dog has preached his doctrine to other groups and found members. That night saw the biggest assembly of dogs and they started to scream at the biggest, brightest full moon of the 15th. The moon was unaware and busy in noticing the nightingale pleading her love to him, the poet finding new rhymes and words to read for his lover, the lover couple embracing and kissing right under his light. <br />
<br />
“Tonight is our make or break night my brothers,” the ugly dog injected enthusiasm, “lets make this happen.” The dogs, irritated at how the villagers didn’t care about their side of the story, started barking. They barked the loudest and with zest. The large group which assembled at the ground made so much noise that the faint sound reached even the moon. The moon was puzzled, have I done something wrong, why so many dogs are barking at me? <br />
<br />
The noise was not so faint in the village. “We must teach these dogs a lesson else we will never sleep peacefully at night: the villagers said to each other. They went to the field, armed with sticks and started chasing the dogs who started to run. But the ugly dog, physically incapable and weak from so much barking, couldn’t run fast enough. One strong blow hit him and his painful existence on this world ended. <br />
<br />
The moon noticed the agitation has ended and started to smile brightly once more. <br />
<br />
There was one, in fact, two, who noticed the whole episode over three nights, the mother owl and her young son. They also stay awake the whole night as their nature. Every night the mother owl brought the young baby to the barren field to teach him how to find food. The death of the ugly dog shocked the young owl. Looking at him, the mother owl smiled.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://imagecache.artistrising.com/artwork/lrg//5/575/YVE2000A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://imagecache.artistrising.com/artwork/lrg//5/575/YVE2000A.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother owl and her son watched it all from treetop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
“When you reach heights my son, when you become glorified and bright, when you are admired and adored by one and all, you will always find a small group who will find flaws in you. They will try to pull you down with all their might. They will argue against you with reasons which will seem just. Pay no attention to them my son, ever, and just keep on doing whatever you do. Neither stoop down to answer them nor let them influence you. Stay proud and high as the moon did and carry on your work. Soon, they will cease to exist.” <br />
<br />
They both looked up at the moon which was glowing brightly and watched its beauty for a minute before they flew away together. Aimless Inquisitivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03204025673420431999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-23146831406627658322014-07-15T15:34:00.000+05:302014-07-15T15:34:38.814+05:30The Little Boy And His Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh I am so confused, the little boy said, irritation making his baby face even cuter. He has just come home from school and was removing the bag from his shoulders. With a tie, half pants and a white shirt, carrying fresh evidence of his engagements on the play field, he is as much a baby as anyone expects him to be. He is turning 7 very soon and yet his cheeks are fat and swollen from baby fat. His eyes are black, long and drawn, which can undoubtedly be called his best features. He has jet black hair of fine texture and thick. He was solidly built, without being overweight and has the exuberant energy which signifies his age. With his water bottle hanging from his neck, no man can stop smiling when he tries to look frustrated and his childish appearance betrays his sincere effort. <br /><br />His father was home early as that was a Saturday. He observed his son and smiled. Poor thing, he doesn’t know how complicated life can be and already he says he is frustrated. When his mother took him away, changed his clothes, made him wash himself thoroughly, put on fresh clothes and lots of powder to fight the summer, he actually looked a very cute kid who promises to be dashing handsome when he grows up. Wearing a half sleeve shirt and half pants, hair combed and parted on the left, he came to sit beside his father with his mother getting busy in the kitchen. <br /><br />Father, why did you become engineer? His father, not willing to reveal the true reason which might be a bit complicated for the young boy, said, well, I wanted to be an engineer, I loved it, why? What is bugging you my baby? <br />Oh its my teacher. She wants me to write on what I want to be. the boy replied. <br />And why should that bother my baby? The father asked, lifting him and placing him on his lap. <br />Because I don’t know, I am confused, the little boy said, I want to become so many things. I want to play and also want to be a diver underwater. And I want to be a writer, and also an engineer like you. He scratched his head. Sometimes I want to be a pilot and fly over countries. And also army and serve my country. <br />The father smiled and ruffled his hair, the boy leaned back on his father. <br />“why do you want to be so many things? Can't you make up your mind?”<br />“nooooooo, the boy screamed, I don’t know. Huh huh huh, he started to express his frustration. <br />The father smiled remembering his own confusion during his childhood. “What about your friends, didn’t you ask them?” <br />To this the boy nodded, playing absent-mindedly with the button of the shirt he was wearing. <br />And what did they say? The father asked, love for his only child making his voice soft. <br />Oh they all have their dreams. Scientist, oh I also want to be a scientist, then painter, engineer, car racer, player and soldier and...hmm, and many more things, his attention now on the sofa cover. <br /><br />Father, what should I become? Suddenly the kid asked his father. <br />I can not tell you that my love, you have to decide for yourself. Father replied. <br />But tell me pleaseeeeeeee the boy said. <br />The father thought for a while. OK, why don’t we do this? Tomorrow we go to meet different people and then you can decide what you want to be. <br />It was a Sunday next day and the boy had an instant big smile on his face. He loved to go out with his father. It means seeing new things, knowing new things and lots of candies n and ice creams. Yessss, I want it, the boy said. <br /><br />OK deal, the father said, but now you must dine and then pray to God for every person you know and you don’t know and every animal in the jungle and every bird in the sky. If you pray for them, they also pray for you. The father lifted the kid in his arms and carried to dining room. Eating happily what his mother prepared, he fell asleep after praying like his father taught him. <br /><br />Next day, he woke up early, bathed and wore a sky blue soft shirt and a pair of jeans. His belly is still like a baby and he held his breath when his father buttoned him and zipped him. His mother combed his shiny hair and kissed him on both cheeks and murmured prayers for his safety. Then the boy left with this father. Today he must decide what he should become. <br /><br />They went to the centre of the district. Their house was a bit on the outskirts. They reached the marketplace and they went to the biggest shop owner in the market. The moment he entered the shop, his eyes lit up. So many toys and dresses, oh he wanted each of those. His father could sense it so he followed the boy’s eyes and bought him the gift he looked at most passionately. But buying things was not their purpose there. They went to meet the owner of the shop. <br /><br />The father said, sir, my son is confused what to become in his life. You have accumulated so much wealth, so I thought you can spare a few minutes and guide him well. The rich shop owner smiled and said, surely I will do that. What a lovely boy he is. What is his name? <br />What is your name? He asked to the boy. <br />Saabit Imaan, the boy replied proudly. <br />Nice name, what does it mean? The shop owner asked the father. <br />A person whose faith on God doesn’t weaver. The father replied pleasantly. <br /><br />The rich shop owner spoke to the boy. Do you want all those toys in my shop? <br />The boy looked at his father, confused what to say to this weird question. The shop owner smiled and said, do you want them, if I give to you? <br />Yes, somewhat hesitantly the boy nodded, again looking at his father. <br />Do you know, you need lots of money to buy all those?<br />To this, the boy nodded confidently, he knows it will need lots of money to buy all those. <br />See, when you grow up, you will need many things, for yourself and for your kids and for your parents. and you need to earn lots of money for that. You need to have own business to earn all this money. Then with all the money you can buy whatever shirt you want, wherever you want to go, whatever you want to eat, cars big house and everything. For everything in this world, you need money.<br /><br />As he was getting ready to speak further, there was a knock on the door. Enter, he shouted, and one of his employees entered. <br />What is it? He asked<br />Sir, the employee said, I need some advance money as my daughter is sick and I need to take her to the doctor immediately. <br />You already have taken 2 months’ salary as advance and I can't give you more. <br />But sir, I need it really, my daughter needs medicines. <br />Sorry but I can't break the rule for one employee. He dismissed the employee. <br /><br />The father also stood up, with a smile and the boy somehow climbed down from the high chair he was sitting on. Thank you sir, for your kind advice and time. I think he loved it. They shook hands and they left. <br /><br />Father, why didn’t he give that man money? He has much. The son asked when they exited from the shop.<br />Because my son, if he starts giving away like that soon he has no money for himself. <br />But that man really needed money father. If I had money I surely give him. <br />The father stayed silent and smiled. <br /><br />There lived a great scientist in that area. They went to him. He was a really busy man. Even on a Sunday, he was busy in his huge laboratory. They were stopped at the gate by the guard. He doesn’t want to see anyone? <br />But we will just take 2 minutes, the father said. <br />Why?<br />It is something about my boy, the father pointed to the boy. <br />The guard looked at the boy and instantly smiled for his face was slightly puzzled and his eyes, big and naive, was watching a city house with intensity. The guard said, I can't get him but I can help you meet his assistant. <br />The assistant came, what is it? He asked impatiently, holding a sheaf of papers under his arms. <br />Sir, my son wants to decide what he wants to become and I think your professor can really help him in this. <br />I don’t think so. the assistant said, without paying much attention. <br />Please sir, just few minutes. <br />OK, just five minutes. He is busy with a very important experiment. He took them in. <br /><br />It was a vast laboratory. Complex things were going on. so many heaters, beakers, chemicals and test-tubes were placed. Strange machineries worked on, making noise. It was literally beyond the comprehension of this little boy who only has only one science book. <br />The scientist was busily and attentively watching something. The assistant whispered something to him, his eyebrows went up. With irritation, he looked at the father and the boy. Then he came to them hastily. <br />So, what do you want to know about science? He started aggressively with the boy, ignoring the father completely. <br />Or, tell me what do you know about science? What have you read? Do you know what is photosynthesis? What are the components of water? Table salt? Tell me how you measure weight and mass?<br />Not that he didn’t know the answers, but never ever someone spoke to him like that. Everybody loved him, kissed him, hugged him, played with him, ruffled his pair and lift him in his arms. Scared he held his father’ arms even tighter. <br />See, you know nothing. The scientist continued. To be a scientist you need to study, study and study, learn a lot, give up everything, forget everything. You know what? I sent my son to a boarding school because I don’t have time for him. He stays there alone. This is the dedication it takes to be a scientist. <br />The little boy shivered at the thought of not staying with his parents. He cants live alone, he loved both of them too much. <br />The father smiled and thanked the scientist for his time. <br />When they left, the boy asked, why did he shout at me? I didn’t even run in his place or touch anything? You never do that to me father. His big eyes were filled with tears. The father took him up in his arms and wiped his tears, kissed him on his forehead and bought him his favourite green mango flavoured ice-lolly from an ice cream seller. <br /><br />Little calm, the boy, still in his fathers arms, asked, why he sent away his son? He cants play with his father on Sundays, like I play with you. <br />The father smiled. <br /><br />It was getting late, so they went for lunch. When the Biriyani came, his eyes lit up, he loved it with all his heart. He ate as much as he could. Now, happy, he went to see the local member of the parliament. He was the most powerful man in the area. Even the big moustached police uncle listens to him, he informed his father. The father, who knew the local MP, went to see him. As he wanted to be a popular MP, he actually asked them inside, hold the boy in his arms and happily shook hands with his father, the bloody election is near. <br />When the father told him the of the purpose, he first laughed a lot, which puzzled the boy. Why does he laugh? My father is so educated and can solve all the maths in my book and also has so many people working under him in the office.<br /><br />The MP took little time to start. With so many people around him and addressing him, it was difficult for him to concentrate really. His phone rang constantly. He had to listen, understand, order and even shout at the callers. The boy sat there and observed the people in the room. Everyone looking expectantly at the MP. <br />He received a phone where the caller informed him that the slum dwellers are protesting the eviction and the factory owners are giving up on this. He became furious, he called the caller inefficient and then rang the local police and ordered them to go and help the factory owners. Forgetting the purpose of their visit totally, he started discussing about this slum with the father. <br /><br />“You see, I try so hard for the improvement of this area but some stupid will remain stupid. They simply don’t want to understand that whatever I am doing is for greater good. If this factory starts, there will be so much employment. These slum people, they can find some vacant area and build another slum there, for all I care. I hope an educated person like you understand this.” The father nodded silently. <br />By the way, this coming election, please vote for me for continuous improvement of this area” he added smilingly. <br />Again there was a call where they informed him, the police has been unable to evict the slum people. He became really angry and called every person in the room, “get on the car, today this factory owners will get the land even if I have to burn the slum” he left forgetting the boy and his father completely.<br /><br />As they started for their home, they were crossing the busy market place again. The boy said, father, my closest friend, lives in that slum. He is very good. Everyday we share lunch and he says, one day he will take me there and show me the strange flower I saw only on the natural science book. And he plays with me too.<br />Suddenly his voice became worried, will he really burn his home? Where will he live then? Why can't they build the factory elsewhere?<br />I don’t know baby, the father lifted his boy. <br />The boy wasn’t very happy with his father, he isn’t telling me because he thinks I am a kid. I am grown up now. <br />The father sensed this, what expressive eyes my kid has, he wondered. OK, the spicy street food should calm him down. <br />At that very moment he realised someone has pinched his purse. Oh no, we are far from home, how do we go home?<br />The changes he has are not enough to take them home. He became worried. <br /><br />Forgetting his plan to buy his son anything, he said, Saabit, can we just walk home? We can see the sun setting down slowly and also enjoy the breeze. And I will teach you the names of the flowers and trees and show you how the tailor bird builds its nest. <br /><br />The boy was indifferent, OK sure, is all he said.<br />But the home was far, even for an adult, it would take two hours to reach there on foot. They started walking but the father could see his son panting, his little feet becoming slower with every step. He had a very engaging day and walking for 2 hours was simply not possible for him. <br />The father took him in his arms and started walking. But he was a big boy now and his father was slowly ageing. After walking for some minutes, they sat down on a big stone beside the path and there he started resting a bit, the son being equally tired. <br /><br />ho ho ho, came the happy and cheerful sound of a man singing. The boy looked up enquiringly, so did the father. It was an ox-cart driver, going home from the market after selling his vegetables there. There was no worry on his face. The father raised his hand expectantly and the cart driver stopped. The father hurriedly lifted his son and went to him, sir, we need to go this way but someone stole my money. Can you be kind enough to take us with you?<br />hahaha, the man laughed. Why not I say? What do I lose if I help you? Come on, sit behind me and hold tightly. <br />Hey sonny, you ever enjoyed an ox-cart ride? He asked the baby smilingly.<br />No, the son said, his eyes lighting up at this unexpected opportunity. <br /><br />They rode and the driver took them slowly to their way. Singing happily, talking cheerfully to the father and laughing at the excited son. He took out a banana he bought for his daughter and offered to the boy. As the father nodded, the kid took it and ate it, oh he was hungry. <br /><br />Then came the turn from where their home wasn’t far. The driver needs to go the other way to the neighbouring village. He kissed the son and said, you have a lovely boy. The father shook his hand warmly and thanked him for his kindness and also invited him to their place next Sunday. The driver said, I am sure you would have helped me if I were in your position brother. They all smiled and he went his way, again singing. <br /><br />It was a very enjoyable day but yes tiring. They reached home just in the time for breakfast. As they got fresh, the son was drowsy in sleep. They al sat their after bathing, the drooling kid on his mother’s lap. Hi smother fed him while he kept falling asleep. <br /><br />Then the father took him and carried him to his room. Placed him on his bed and pulled the blanket up. His mother, who was also there, kissed him on his forehead and murmured, so what does my son want to become? <br /><br />Almost asleep, the son, replied, an ox-cart driver.<br /><br />The mother looked at the father, somewhat puzzled. The father smiled. <br /></div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-75265832269545389512014-05-20T08:56:00.002+05:302014-05-20T08:56:31.783+05:30The Cowboy and The King<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The
king was running after a deer on horseback. He must hunt it down. All
day long he had tried but he could not hunt a single animal. His
companions asked him not to go because the evening was dark. But he
was determined. But in the dark, he finally lost his way and the deer
hid itself in the forest. The king ran restlessly but he could not
find it. To add to his worries, he could not even find his way or his
companions. He shouted but in return only the unknown animals mocked
his voice. He rode and rode till it was night. He was dead tired when
he finally saw a valley. He raced towards it. Oh dear God, there is a
hut there and light is coming out from inside it. The king called for
his last few drops of energy and reached the hut. Stumbling, he
reached the door, knocked on it and fainted.
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The
hut belonged to a poor man. He opened the door. He saw a man, in
lovely and costly but dirty clothes, lying on his doorstep. He
carried him inside, placed him on his bed, washed his face and made
him comfortable. Then he realised the stranger must be hungry. He
added extra potatoes and rice in the boiling pot.
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The
king resumed consciousness a few hours later. Where on earth am I? He
wondered. Slowly his memory came back to him. He moved and saw his
costly clothes on him, his rings, jewels and precious stones on his
body all there. He was lying on a cot. Then he saw the man who
recovered him. He sat up and the man smiled to him.
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It
was a small hut with only 1 door and two windows. The boiling pot was
still warm and the smell of rice made the king hungry. Why can't my
royal chefs prepare this? He thought. On an earth plate, rice and
boiled potatoes was given to them. He ate them and felt he was eating
the tastiest food he ever ate. Full, he drank no sorbet but cold
water from the well nearby and fell asleep.
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When
he woke up next morning, he felt so ashamed. Forget thanking, he
didn’t even ask the name of the man who did so much for him. Giving
him the only cot, that man was sleeping on the bare floor. As soon
as he sat up on the cot, that man woke up hurriedly and smiled to
him.</div>
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The
king embraced him like a friend and said, if I thank you it will
only belittle your kindness on me. I am sorry I didn’t thank you
last night. You came like an angel to me.The
man, who was wearing a very poor clothing, became visibly
embarrassed. “My king, I am only a cowboy and your subject. What I
did was my duty to my king. I wish I could offer you better food and
better place but this is all I have.”</div>
<br />
The
king hugged him once more and said, “your days of poverty ends now
my brother. From now on, you shall be stay in my court and be my
right hand.”<br />
<br />
The
cowboy didn’t know how to reject this offer. He agreed and together
they left for the capital. When they reached the palace, the king
allocated him a big room there, royal tailors sewed for him most
magnificent gowns and the maids bathed him perfumed rosewater. He
started living a new life.
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Time
passed on. The king became so fond of the cowboy. The king started
taking his advice in every issue, ignoring his old advisers. The
cowboy helped the king always and always stayed grateful. He was
appointed the chief judge of the city because nobody could match the
wisdom he had nor the unbiased judgements he passed. Everywhere
people started talking of the new judge. The king used to take the
cowboy everywhere with him, be it the sporting event of visiting the
neighbouring state. After making him the chief judge, the king
appointed him as the chief treasurer next because he knew the cowboy
is so honest that not even one guinea he will take from the treasure.
The cowboy, as usual, thanked the king for his trust on him and
started taking care of the royal treasure. The king started loving
him so much that he announced that the princess were to marry him
when she finishes her education.
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The
other courtmen became jealous of the cowboy. They were of noble
birth, they had education from the best university and they used to
be the important members of the court before this new cowboy replaced
them in the king's heart. Boiling with revenge, they started a
conspiracy. Somehow they need to get this cowboy out of the king's
heart. They started monitoring the activities of the cowboy.
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Time
passed and soon these enraged courtmen noticed something strange.
Every night, when everybody fall asleep, the cowboy leaves the palace
secretly using the back-door and early dawn before anybody wake up,
he returns to the palace. The noble courtmen followed the cowboy one
night and saw, he reached the valley where he used to live and
entered his hut. Then he closed the door and stayed there till dawn.
From there, at dawn, he emerged and rode to the palace. They followed
him for many nights and saw the same thing every night. This new
cowboy must be up to something devilish and the king will throw him
out and probably punish him if the king comes to know about it. They
didn’t delay in reporting to the king what they have seen.
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The
king, at first, dismissed the report. The courtmen they swore and
promised and took oaths that they were not lying. With great
reluctance, the king agreed to check it himself that night. The
courtmen were happy.
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The
night came. Like other nights, the cowboy presented the report to the
king and thanked him for his kindness and trust. Th eking said
nothing in return. The king started watching the cowboy's room in
silence when everybody fell asleep. Incredibly, after a few minutes,
the cowboy emerged from the room and went to the royal stable. There
he chose his horse and rode it. The king started following in his
horse along with the courtmen. Following him, they reached the
valley. Then near the hut, the cowboy climbed down and entered his
hut. The king was watching from behind a tree. The courtmen said,
“see my king, we were right. He does this every night. What is he
doing? We think he is stealing from the royal treasure and bringing
those to his hut. You should check it, O great king of us”
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The
king was boiling in anger. Why did the cowboy not tell him anything,
the cowboy whom he trusted so much and whom he wanted to make his
son-in-law and the future king? He took out his sword from the belt
and ran to the hut and banged on it with all his might.
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There
was silence and it made him even more angry. As soon he was to bang
again, the door opened. The cowboy was standing in front of him. The
cowboy's eyes expressed that he was stunned to see the king there.
The king, panting in anger and with a naked sword in his hands,
noticed that the cowboy was wearing the same old and poor clothes he
first saw him in.
</div>
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What
is going on? The king shouted. Why are you here? Why do you come
here? Why every night? Why are you wearing these clothes?
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The
cowboy looked down. He paused for a long moment and took a deep
breath in. Then he looked at the king and said, “I am sorry I
couldn’t tell you this earlier because I didn’t know how to
explain this to you. I was a cowboy when I met you. With your
kindness, today I am the chief judge and the chief treasurer of this
state. I spend the day in the palace and live the life which you gave
me. At night, I return to my original self which was true me. Today
you are kind enough on me but tomorrow you might not like me. God gives us better life only to test whether we forget the root and become arrogant or not. I
return here every night, wear these clothes and live this life to
remind me of my root. Like a tree can not stand if its root is cut,
no man can have a life if he denies his roots.”
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lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-70684512854407082742014-05-13T15:06:00.001+05:302014-05-13T15:06:12.774+05:30Midnight Daydreams <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Statutory Warning: This writing lacks coherence and is full of SPAG errors. Proceed at your own risk. </b></div>
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It's early dawn.
Might be called as very late night, the wee hours. None is awake. I
woke up. Partly because I missed you, partly because it is raining
and I felt cold. Lying awake, I thought of you. And the rain. It had
a different fragrance when I had you, didn’t it?</div>
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Going to that park,
finding a dry spot on a bench and somehow sit there, close to each
other. The air is chilly and to counter it, we needed that heat from
each other, didn’t we? So close that your head is near my face, and
do you remember my irritation when your hair, flying with the breeze
tickled my face, the noises I made and how I used to rub my face, and
smelling you. Desires awaken. You used to stare into my eyes, asking,
what is it that you need? My eyes, half embarrassed half hesitant,
could never say, its you that I want, don’t you feel it? You would
suddenly place our head on my chest and my arm goes around you, to
tell the world I own you.
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The afternoon turned
into evening and the light-stands lit up. Lovers, like us they
probably longed for each other as well, started to leave. We have to
leave, we both realised it with a pang. But can we? Can we stand a
second of separation? We look each other, eyes urging, find an excuse
not to go. Begging each other, just don’t go. Like in a trance, we
stood up. Walking was so difficult when we hug each other so tightly,
isn’t it? Trembling from the chill, tumbling due to our awkward
embrace, we took steps towards a separation. God knows when shall we
meet again, if ever. Each step cost us a day of our life.
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now we are near your
place. The alley is dark, thank God someone broke the lights in the
stand. We walked together, closely holding each other. Heartbeat
raising, for soon is the time when this society and its rules will
take you away from me. What will I do if it rains tonight again? We
are there, in front of the gate. Standing face to face, eyes
glistening, no not from love, but the tears we both are trying our
best to control, putting up a brave face. You touched my face, from
my forehead to the chin, you had this unique style, remember how it
made me feel awkward when you did in the full view f the public? I
smiled, lips closed and pressed together and patted your cheek. Took
a sharp about turn and walk away as fast as I could, never looking
back for I can't go if I look back. I always felt your eyes on my
back, I never checked but I always knew it.
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first birds are
singing, hey another day is breaking. The rain has stopped, like we
did. Its another long sunny day, another day without you. I have to
start now but before I sit up, I murmured for one last time, hey I
miss you.
</div>
</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-32727043979912521042014-04-07T12:33:00.002+05:302014-04-07T14:06:17.410+05:30The Coconut Tree And Gratefulness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was no coconut tree in the world at first.
So a farmer prayed to God and God granted coconut to grow on
earth. The farmer, when he woke up next morning, saw the coconut in
the yard. He never saw anything like that ever before. He couldn’t
understand what it is. He tried to bite it but it was very hard. He
tried to cut it but it was very hard for that too. So, he thought it
is worthless and he decided to throw it away, because is wife wanted
him to go to work. While going to the field, he threw it to the
roadside where it is stony and dry and nothing else thorny
shrubberies.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The coconut stayed there, among the stones and the
garbage. No water was there. God told it to grow into a tree but
there was no water. He was thirsty. He wanted to grow his roots and
go high up so his head can be as near the heaven as possible. There
he is to grow coconuts and serve the human with a new taste.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But how can he? He was so thirsty. The area was so
dry and the rainy season is still few months away. O God, why did you
send me to this cruel world, he cried aloud. But none could hear him
because that was a lonely strip of road where seldom someone passed.
The first day, he tried to drink from the water he holds inside. On
the third day, his stock was nearly empty. He is to grow root,
because God has asked him to. But how can he, for he himself was so
thirsty. Why did you send me to here if you wanted me to suffer like
this? I was so happy in heaven, near you, he wanted to say but then
he realised what God taught him, “never be ungrateful to me for I
am the reason you are here and alive”. He broke down and started
crying, help me God help me, I need water.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God never leaves anyone. All you need is to pray
to him and he will help you always. He can do impossible so even if
you need a miracle, just pray for it with all your heart and believe
that he will give you. When the coconut broke down crying, God
decided it is time to send help to it.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a tramp nearby who wanted to go to a far
land but he has lost his ways. Walking, tired and hungry, he was
passing the area just where the coconut was lying. He sat there to
rest because he couldn’t walk any more. He took out his water
bottle, he carried it because he knew there is no water around. He
sat on a big rock near the coconut was lying. When he was drinking,
his eyes fell on the coconut. He never saw anything like this. It has
a smooth yet hard surface almost slippery and silky and is so heavy,
even though he realised it is some kind of fruit. The tramp thought
it must be a fruit of a tree of this region and as he was from far,
he must have missed it. But, wait, it is drying. The tramp was
confused. What should he now? God decided to have a miracle that
exact moment and like someone spoke in his ears, the tramp realised
he should plant it.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So the tramp carried it a bit far where there was
soft and fresh soil, instead of the stony surface. There he dug a
hole, placed the coconut inside and pulled the soil back to cover it.
Now, he opened the water bottle and he started pouring water. The
area was surprisingly dry. He almost emptied half his bottle and the
soil was still absorbing water thirstily. He poured more. His bottle
is almost empty now. He also knew water isn’t available nearby.
With only 3 mouthful water remaining in the bottle, he was confused.
Should it keep it for himself or give it the poor fruit? “Oh I can
walk and find water somewhere else, this poor thing can't move and
needs it more than I do” he thought and emptied his bottle on it.
Then resting for a while, he picked up his motley and slowly went
away, carrying his empty bottle with him.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The coconut tree was drinking happily and thanking
God for his endless mercy, singing a hymn with all his gayness and
cheer. It was like a second leash of life for him. But suddenly he
realised that the tramp has given him all his water and soon he will
be thirsty. He was so ashamed for being so selfish. How could be he
so heartless, the coconut was really embarrassed. “I shall return
him his water when he comes back this way” he decided.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Years passed, the coconut tree grew up into a
magnificent tree. His long and slender body is like a prince most
well groomed. When he sways with the breeze, he resembles all the
most magnificent ballerina ever. His head is above any other tree
now. He can see far in every direction. And using his ability to see
far lands, he searched for the tramp to return. He must pay back and
apologise else how can he, the coconut tree, stand in front of God.
He has stored the sweetest water for him and carries that on its head,
packed inside fresh coconuts. But, the tramp never returned.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The coconut tree was growing old. His vision was
becoming blurry. He was still waiting but he knew he didn’t have
many days left to meet God again in heaven. One day when he realised
he has to return to heaven the next day, he called all his sons who
grew around him. “Listen my sons, when I came to this world, I was
very thirsty and someone gave me all his water to save my life. Thanks to
him I stayed alive and from me came you. Thus, you all are as
indebted to him as I was. I have to return to God tomorrow but from
now on, you and all your sons and their sons, will keep water on your
head and serve anyone who is thirsty. May be that way we can pay that
kind man back.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Next day, everybody saw the magnificent body of
the first coconut tree uprooted and lying on the ground dead.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, his sons still carry out his last word. When
you see a coconut tree, look up. You will see how they still carry
water on their head and serve to every thirsty man because once one
stranger did good to their first father.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-20495192836308383502014-02-03T07:44:00.002+05:302014-02-03T07:44:30.689+05:30Is afsane ka gar ishq hi naam hota<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Is afsane ka gar ishq hi naam hota<br />Betaab umango ko tasalli o araam hota<br /><br />
Hote namuraad bas na hote yun bewajood<br />Jazbon ka mera fir bhi ehteraam hota<br /><br />
Shaq hota hai kabhi apne iradon pe bhi<br />Hota gar ishq e afzal, yun na nakaam hota<br /><br />
Seekha nahi tareeqe se muhabbat karna<br />Kucha e ishq me fir main bhi badnaam hota<br /><br />
Dekha gaur se har ek mazhab ke qitaab<br />Kahin ek toote dilko ek paighaam hota<br /><br />
Bekhatah wo nahi,hum bhi to junoon se faarig<br />Duniya me aur koi layak e inteqaam hota<br /><br />
Jab chali gayi hai khwahish e jannat bhi<br />Na Socho akhiraat me kya Faiz ka maqaam hota<br /></div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-65101482428360082312014-01-30T15:37:00.003+05:302014-01-30T15:37:35.664+05:30For Whom It Matters The Least<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is not exactly something new but since I burnt every scribbling when I realised they are useless, this might look new.<br />
I am too lazy to type in Bengali (Bangla, to be exact)<br />
<br />
Jodio tomar nojore ami nogonno<br />Tobuo amar hridoy jure sudhu tumi e tumi<br />Tomar du chokhe royechhe ontobihin pother disha<br />Ogochore tomar ami je pothe cholar ongikar kori<br />Gobhir rate jokhon duniyay sob sopno dekhe<br />Jege jege ami tomar e to protikkha kori<br />Tumi to jano na,jokhon tumi kotha bolo<br />Ami suni, ami bujhi na, sudhu dekhte thaki<br />Sopno kokhon eto bastob hote pare<br />Dekhi na sopno ami kono sopnosundarir<br />Sopno amar roop niyeche tomar<br />Tomar shihorito shorirer kothao <br />Amar okhondo shanti somahito achhe<br />Tar e khoje ami tomar shorir porjoton kori <br />Eso kache, dekho amar sorbosso diye tomai<br />Kemon ami valobasai nisso hote pari<br />
<br /><b>(Thank you VinayNS for encouraging to translate and yet not praising me.</b>)<br /><br />
Although I am insignificant for you<br />Still in my heart, its you and you<br />In your eyes is the direction for my endless journey<br />Unknown to you, i promise to walk on it forever<br />When at midnight, the world is lost in dreams<br />Awake, I wait for only your arrival<br />You know not but when you speak<br />I listen, I understand not, just keep on watching<br />Can dream ever be so vivid<br />I desire not of any dream-girl<br />My dream has taken your shape<br />Somewhere in your awaken body<br />My eternal peace is hidden deep<br />In search of that, i explore your body<br />Come close, watch how giving you my everything<br />I can become nothing in love. <br />
<br />
<i>(This is certainly my most precious post, costed me Rs 1100 to post this. Sighh!!)</i></div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-89148212535988006372014-01-15T16:17:00.003+05:302014-01-15T16:20:11.276+05:30Fictitious Conversation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; direction: ltr; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); }P.western { font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; }P.cjk { font-family: "DejaVu Sans"; font-size: 12pt; }P.ctl { font-family: "FreeSans"; font-size: 12pt; }</style><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is a fictional
conversation which doesn’t need telling. People are named like
Mahdi, Maryam, Faiz or Alex, or even Kumbatata (probably, in African
countries) but certainly not like Mr Trusting and Mr Suspicious. This
is, once again, just a conversation I dreamt, last night.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The conversation went
like this, or this is what I remembered when I woke up.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting and Mr.
Suspicious are two gentlemen, who are known to each other without
being too close. Somehow, I suspect, Mr. Suspicious didn’t want it.
Mr. Trusting is more of a happy go lucky type of chap.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: oi mate,
good morning.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: Morning
Mr. Trusting</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: How have
you been?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: me
great mate, you?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Can't
complain. Tell me how was your day.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious:<i>
(slowly drawing guard) </i>well, it was just another day.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Uhu, how
is...err...what was her name....Victoria?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious:
<i>(</i><i>wondering whether Mr. Trusting knows that they are not
together anymore</i><i>)</i> she is good. Thank you.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>(Awkward silence as
Mr. Suspicious is not committing anything and Mr. Trusting doesn’t
know how to press on)</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: (<i>after
a prolonged pause</i>) Look how beautiful the west looks. (<i>referring
to the red sky just after sunset).</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Mr. Suspicious
watches it grimly. Sighs. Now speaking hurriedly</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: tell me
one thing mate, who told you that is west?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: <i><span style="font-weight: normal;">(visibly
taken aback)</span></i> well..ha ha (<i>laughs somewhat forcefully</i>)
well, we all know that the sun sets in the west.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: hmm. No
mate. You think that is the west because we were taught to call it
west. We don’t know if it is the west exactly. What if I want to
name it North and everybody agrees to that.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting:
(<i>completely perplexed)</i> err, I guess, well, what's in a name,
right? (<i>laughs</i>)</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: And
yet, we must remember the name of the dramatist who said it.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Uhu,
never thought it like that.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious:
Exactly. We keep on believing. Never question. That's how we are
progressing.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Err,
should we question everything? (<i>suddenly</i>) are you a theist, mate?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Suspicious: I am a
what?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: A theist,
do you believe in God?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Suspicious:
(<i>carefully measuring his words</i>) yes, I do.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Trusting: Do you
have any proof that he exists?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Suspicious: (<i>laughs</i>)
how else, do you think, everything is so organised? How can the
universe be made without a maker?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Trusting: But, could
you prove his presence? I mean, you are assuming he is there because
if you deny Him, you cant explain these. In other words, God is not a
theorem which can be proven. He is more like a hypothesis, believe
him and you can explain everything else. (<i>breathes after speaking
very fast.</i>)</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Suspicious: Well
Trusting, that's your way of putting things. I need not agree.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr Trusting: well,
there I agree, You are free to disagree. (<i>continues after a small
pause) </i><span style="font-style: normal;">but mate, trust builds
relationships. You have to agree there.</span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: Can see
what good trust is by the number of divorce applications. I say, why
trust. Win trust. I ain't going to give it away.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: But, it
is so subjective. Remember Aesop? If you don’t want to trust,
nothing can make you trust.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: Isn’t
it better than to misplace the trust?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: But, not
every trust is misplaced. I mean, if we don’t trust anyone, how
will we know who is worthy of trusting and who is not? (<i>speaks
with vigour now as he remembers something</i>) Look at my parents,
they trusted each other, and it was an arranged marriage, they
trusted blindly. Nothing could tear them apart.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: And
you? <i>(knowing well Mr Trusting is facing a divorce case, filed by
his wife.)</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting:
<i>(hesitantly)</i>err, I misjudged.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: see,
that is what exactly I want to avoid.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Mr. Trusting is now
completely clueless what to say. Mr. Suspicious looks satisfied, he
has just argued and won against another too trusting idiot. Mr.
Suspicious continues, the tone is somewhat sympathetic now. </i>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: look
mate, I have nothing against you, we are good friends. You just don’t
know what you are saying. Look at you, broken and ruined just because
you trusted. Look at me, I don’t want to bloat, but see me, I am
safe and happy because I don’t trust anybody or anything. Trusting
means someone someday will misuse it.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: and not
trusting means, you never know who just crossed you could have been
the person who could have turned your life into heaven. There is no
reward without a risk.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: (<i>back
to the aloof tone after his valuable words are rejected and protested
to</i>) well then mate, do what you shall. Just don’t blame others
for what happens to you. Guess you can never realise this truth.
(<i>sighs visibly</i>)</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Guess
what mate? I am happy. (<i>stops Mr. Suspicious with a wave of hand
as Mr. Suspicious was about to say something</i>) and you know why I
am happy? Because I don’t see the half glass empty. I drink the
remaining half glass to the last drop. (<i>again stops Mr.
Suspicious</i>) yes, I misplaced my trust. But guess what, I will do
it again at the next opportunity. Only that way, and yes only and
only in that way, I know I will find someone who will honour my
trust. You, on the other hand, will remain in your guarded walls, and
probably die with the regret that you couldn’t find someone who is
worthy of your trust. But know it mate, you can never find them
because when they pass you, you are too scared and suspicious of
giving them a chance.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: (<i>fuming
in anger now</i>) Neither did I seek nor do I need your advice on what I
should do. I wonder at your audacity though, a sore loser, who has
nothing left to be proud of, teaching someone how to win things?
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Mr. Trusting smiles.
</i>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Trusting: Good day
mate. <i>(Mr. Trusting whistles away)</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mr. Suspicious: Some
idiots will die idiots. Why on earth do I waste my time with them?
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>(Mr. Suspicious
drags himself away)</i></div>
</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-1509219587872643802014-01-01T20:12:00.006+05:302014-01-01T22:34:47.576+05:30Waiting To Re-live<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Surely I am a Muslim and we don’t believe in re-incarnation (except for Jesus Christ but then we believe he never died, God saved him on the cross) so title might be a bit confusing.<br />
Let me quote Jasim-ud-din, "<i>ghumiye achhe shishur pita sab shishur-i antore</i>" (Every kid has his father sleeping inside him). Get the sense? Yes, I am a father of the best baby in the world.<br />
<br />
My father is very fond of story telling. And he excels at it too, unlike me who can bore people to sleep when telling a story. And one of the stories my father fondly tells everyone is how I was a surprisingly brilliant kid in my childhood. Leaving other stories for the time being, which you will find difficult to believe anyway given my enmity with IQ nowadays, let me tell you one which I like.<br />
<br />
<br />
There is this book I received as a gift, even before I could read the alphabet. Its one of those books where each page has 4-5 lines and remaining are illustrations. The name of the book was "Tutu Bhutu", Tutu and Bhutu, a dog and a cat respectively, were the two main characters of that book. Here is the only cover page which I could find on the internet. Pardon the image size.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzcN9f219zQLetcS5nmCzcEeVv14nNYhyZsh26bbgT-Fn23RxgviVSWegNGdoL_1nUCKygVgOS1MhvyO4Dli2KAoawoVW8b0DtEy8zCDeXPOPz3rujqFuiGsU6iwd8jas2Z71Bv91tN4/s1600/tutu+vutu+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzcN9f219zQLetcS5nmCzcEeVv14nNYhyZsh26bbgT-Fn23RxgviVSWegNGdoL_1nUCKygVgOS1MhvyO4Dli2KAoawoVW8b0DtEy8zCDeXPOPz3rujqFuiGsU6iwd8jas2Z71Bv91tN4/s1600/tutu+vutu+cover.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Forget the story of it, in gist the story was how Bhutu went fishing and had a feast with all his friends with the big fish he caught, let me get to the story my father would love to tell you a thousand times.<br />
<br />
According to him, they read to me the book and I just loved it. The love went so crazy, that I will go around the house to find anyone free and give him the book and ask him or her to read it to me. I will sleep with the book beside myself and in a day, I would make them read the same book at least 20 times. I would even insist that they should laugh when I am laughing.<br />
<br />
Now is the incredible part...I heard the book so many times that I memorised the book completely without knowing how to read. So, I can recite it from my memory, even pause at the punctuations and turn pages at the appropriates breaks. So, if you don’t know the story behind, you will feel a tiny kid is reading it fluently.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqd-CGkF9rWlAvYjgFSrVDJ5eZhDngfuALMfjU6GADv1iC4vbmDiGVjIfPMDWgL8l0_DP0yIkfALcd36ukC9g9DkogDV7jUnl0f2c8lEQPP1W9p5dnNEw9NpDhAYZiJXt6ReJjVzrkds/s1600/page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqd-CGkF9rWlAvYjgFSrVDJ5eZhDngfuALMfjU6GADv1iC4vbmDiGVjIfPMDWgL8l0_DP0yIkfALcd36ukC9g9DkogDV7jUnl0f2c8lEQPP1W9p5dnNEw9NpDhAYZiJXt6ReJjVzrkds/s1600/page.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second page of the book.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The childhood copy was of course soiled from so much of use and while my sister was growing up, she made sure its completely torn. Sadly, this classic, which could have taken any child classic including those from Lewis Carol, never received the publicity or popularity it deserved. I finally got a copy few years back at the bookfair when I was doing engineering and had to literally beg to the publisher to sell me the copy which was there for illustration purpose alone.<br />
<br />
Coming back to the purpose of this blog, I always wished I could see those days. I never could. But now I know there is a strong chance. God has given me a great baby and hopefully he will soon be with me and I can't wait to see tiny Faiz running around with his copy of Tutu Vutu and asking all to read the same to him multiple times a day.<br />
<br />
Time to re-live is probably so close. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-15634883847893341072013-12-29T15:28:00.001+05:302013-12-29T16:56:19.471+05:30My Review of Supreme Court's View <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
Indeed, I didn’t blog for a long time
now. Actually, nowadays I need to write so much for my profession
that writing for pleasure or for expressing my ideas looks like another
tiring job to me.
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anyway, I couldn’t suppress myself,
thankfully and incidentally the office gave me a week off as well, on
something which is hitting Indian badly nowadays. If you are an
India, or if you are someone who follows international news, you
must have heard that the supreme court of India has recently banned
homosexual relationships. As you would have expected, and probably
supported as well, the waves of protests which are hitting streets are
hysteric.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Before I go into the details, lets see
what our leaders are saying. For the first time, except for when we
fight against Pakistan, they are equivocally protesting against
verdict and condemning the supreme court. There is indeed a
competition which I noticed amusedly, who can go the farthest to
prove that they are with the homosexuals. If someone is saying, the
supreme court is wrong and this verdict pushed us back by 400 years,
another is quipping with, I wouldn’t have been ashamed if my own
son or daughter was a homosexual.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not that I am uninterested in
politicians. In fact, I believe they can show us the truth. Its easy,
just believe the exact opposite of what they say, and you were never
nearer to the truth. But, keeping them away for a while (they eat too
much newsprint anyway), lets see what the intellectual class is
saying. In this class we find our poets, writers, freethinkers(I
don’t really know what this term means), progressive reformers and
others.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our first self declared homosexual of
India, Prince Something (I don’t remember his exact name) said in a
press meet, (in English so that he can be understood by the elite
thinking class, Hindi is a language spoken by illiterates I guess)
“It's all about which hole you enter”, sarcasm dripping out of
every word. I thought about it for a long time, with my vivid sexual
imagination running pretty wild, but still failed to comprehend fully
what he meant. Perhaps he wanted to say “it's all about whose hole
you enter”. This one makes sense in the context, else whether I sex
normally with my wife or try the back-door for fun is entirely our
choice and I don’t see this supreme court ruling saying anything
about that.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Some poet, who declared himself as a
homosexual way back in 1984, said today, did we fail to make the
bigger part of the society to understand? No mate, going by the
support, which you are receiving from almost every quarter of society, at
least the powerful and the influential ones, makes me think like you
have done good enough for your cause. Except for one quarter, which I
proudly call the last defence standing, you have conquered almost
every sect.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
People call this sect, which I belong
to, as regressive, blind, fundamentalist (which I am and I would love
to explain why but not now), medieval or the popular term now,
Taliban. I wondered about the meaning of progress. Given my English
is as good as that of a Bushman of the desert, I went to online
Harper Collins dictionary.<b> </b><a href="http://thefreedictionary.com/progress" target="_blank">They said</a> <b>“</b><br />
<div class="ds-list">
<b>1. </b> Movement, as toward a goal; advance.</div>
<div class="ds-list">
<b>2. </b> Development or growth: <span class="illustration">students who show progress.</span></div>
<div class="ds-list">
<b>3. </b> Steady improvement, as of a society or civilization: <span class="illustration">a believer in human progress.</span> See Synonyms at <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/development">development</a>.<b>”</b></div>
<div class="ds-list">
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sadly, I was
disappointed with what the dictionary said. I thought of something
like, Progress: a trait, displayed by individual, race or nation, in
aping whatever the USA and the Europe is doing. It isn’t, poor me,
poor homosexuals. So, the examples they gave, how USA and Europe
accepted it, and how we should as well, to help our civilisation to progress,
doesn’t hold much water as progress is not defined by our ability
to copy the white skin.
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am just a poor
blogger, hardly with any academic qualification, keep artistic
education apart. The amount of newsprint and TV-hours they are
getting, I can't dream of it, nor do I desire. I can't go on making
the thing so complex. Nor I can be so glib. All I know, Bible said
“wide and tempting is the gate/path which lures you to hell” (Christian
readers, please supply me the exact verse, I am poor in memorising.)
Quran and Hadith also predicted how sweet talkers the Satan and his
agents are. Anyway, lets not get into those Taliban talks of Bible
and Koran, outdated books with a faulty concept called God. Let's go
back to science.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My parents
insisted that I should study the science. I had no particular
interest except in History and the answers are so tediously long that
I chose the lazier science instead. So, I am somewhat comfortable
here or at least I can pretend more convincingly here. Anyway, lets
proceed.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Homosexuals are
saying, law shouldn’t decide who we love. Slogans are coming like
“let us make our own choice”. Yes very true. I say, lets be even
more progressive. Let's remove the concept of incest. It is a
backdated concept anyway. If you want to make love to your mother as a son,
or to your father as a daughter (or even the other combination) law
shouldn’t decide or interfere. After all, you are in love and
scientifically, two biological bodies are performing a basic
physiological act. So lets proceed with incest as well, I say. Next
on our agenda should be animal sex, where if as a woman you want your
dog to fornicate with you or you want to put your thing in a hole of
a mare, the law shouldn’t interfere with “which hole you are
entering”.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But wait, what is
this I am reading? Times Now, the leading newspaper, in its Bengali
version, Ei Somoy, runs a column where an actress, probably because
she doesn’t have many films to do anyway, replies to the
psychological problems of we, the common man. Forgetting for once
what qualification does she have to take up that role or how we
Indians love to say, even the excretion of celebrities smell so nice,
lets hear her answer to a question. This one came after the ruling to supreme court.
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The question was
something like, a man asked, recently, with my wife's permission, I
engaged in a sexual intercourse with a female cousin of mine. Now we
think we should continue this relationship (the threesome, he meant I
am certain) on a permanent basis, please advise. The answer was
pretty sarcastic. She, the actress, said “wow mate, you have done
great. Just enjoy till you can because as soon as the law catches
you, it will end. You better run to Mars and continue there.” etc.
etc.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can bet my last
underwear, ask that actress what she thinks of the supreme court
ruling and she will shrug in as American a way as she can and answer
in stammering Bengali, with a heavy and consciously inculcated
American accent, with stress evident on her face to speak the
language her parents speak and the Lingua Franca of the land she
lives in, that she thinks that is horribly unjust. Why then, I ask
you madam, you hide your disgust in sarcasm when someone decides to
enter the hole of his female cousin, with his wife being the third party?</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You call me
Taliban, you call me fundamentalist, you call me medieval regressive
and blinded by religion inhuman creature, justify your own damned
double standard first. </div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thank you supreme court of India, thank you Australian government and thank you those few countries like Iran who, even at the risk of being tagged as "oppressor of humanity" are keeping the healthy society intact. </div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-70032542569959199302013-04-30T02:16:00.000+05:302013-04-30T02:16:09.398+05:30Fulfilment <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; direction: <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">ltr</span>; <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">color</span>: <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">rgb</span>(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify; }P.western { font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; }P.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">cjk</span> { font-family: "宋体","<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">SimSun</span>"; font-size: 10pt; }P.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">ctl</span> { font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; }</style>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">T</span>oday
he kicked me finally. no you cant blame me. I am a widower and like
most old Indian widower I am cynical and irritating. I badmouth, I
curse and and I do all those things which will make anybody hate me.
I don't want anybody in my room I don't want anybody touching my
things especially the things which were hers. <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>y grandchildren, both
of them, hate me as much as I hate them. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>hey are irresponsible
impolite rascals. <span style="font-size: small;">W</span>hy cant they let me live in peace<span style="font-size: small;">!</span> I <span style="font-size: small;">d</span>on't need
their mercy. <span style="font-size: small;">A</span>ll I need is my room<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>my medicine and my food. <span style="font-size: small;">Y</span>es, like
always I still love good food. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he, my wife if you cant guess<span style="font-size: small;">,</span>
commented a lot, and she wasn't a great cook either, tried her best to
give me foods I want. I can't eat ghaas phoos greenery always. <span style="font-size: small;">W</span>e
aren't grazing cows like I always used to say irritably. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he never
complained much. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
need to live with my only son who is a bloody rascal. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>pineless
creature who lives under the shadow of his wife. His wife is a
creature from hell. I am glad my wife never had to tolerate her. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he
is devil incarnated. <span style="font-size: small;">A</span>nd, she has some enmity with me to settle score about. I
don't know what and how this enmity was provoked at first but I know how much
she despise me. <span style="font-size: small;">A</span>nd, I am pretty sure that its she who turned my
grandchildren against me. I cursed her often<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>ostly in my mind as I
am scared of she making me leave this very household which I
purchased and constructed with my blood. <span style="font-size: small;">N</span>ever I took a vacation,
never I bought a good shirt, never I bought a car so I could make
this. <span style="font-size: small;">A</span>nd, although I am still the legal owner I am scared of getting
thrown out of this house. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>his house, where memories of her till her
last day is still alive with me. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I</span>t
happened to me many times that they do things to irritate me. <span style="font-size: small;">L</span>ike
when I want to sleep my grandson and his bunch of scoundrel friends
starts playing shrill and loud music if that can be called music at a
horrible volume. <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>y granddaughters friends giggle looking at my
futile anger. <span style="font-size: small;">H</span>uh damn them all. I retire to my room which they
ignored while renovating the house and removing the colour my wife
chose thus my room isn't much to talk of. <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>oreover citing my
bronchitis they didn't fit <span style="font-size: small;">AC</span> in my room. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>he fan makes more sound
than air and still I am happy. there I still use a computer and
listen to songs we used to listen together. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">T</span>oday
I woke up to horribly loud sound again. I was dreaming of her. <span style="font-size: small;">O</span>f our
last vacation. I came out swearing at anything and everything. <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>y
daughter in law came out like she would be hitting me when I knocked
at their door rather loudly she opened the door with displeasure and
said how she would like me to go back to my room. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
went back muttering. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the
maid didn't come today without notice. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>he princess who married my
son was visibly perturbed. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he had to cook and clean. <span style="font-size: small;">O</span>hh such a
great ordeal. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>he ordeal which my wife and mother did everyday of
their lives. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>hen with eyes to burn me alive she came to my room to
give me my lunch. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>he same vegetables and tasteless garbage which she
cooks. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he threw the plates on my table with less courtesy which you
show to a street dog. I was mad. I gathered courage and threw my
plates at her. </span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Get lost from my room you dirty lazy bitch" I shouted. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">S</span>he
went away swearing at me. I didn't guess what will happen next. <span style="font-size: small;">F</span>ew
minutes later she came to my room with her husband. <span style="font-size: small;">C</span>rying<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>sobbing
like an innocent victim. <span style="font-size: small;">M</span>y son used the tone which he never uses
with her. "<span style="font-size: small;">H</span>ave you thrown the plates at her?" he demanded shouting
loudly. <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Y</span>es I did and don't shout u spineless slave of wife." </span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"what
what what did you say?" he shouted. I said "don't shout, I am your father"
and I went at him holding my walking stick to beat him after twenty
years. he defended himself and threw me back with a kick. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
am sitting now. I don't know which shock was higher, the physical one
or the mental one. I was breathless sitting all shattered on the
floor trying not to move. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He
kicked me? I couldn't believe. <span style="font-size: small;">S</span>uddenly I remembered when he was in
his mothers womb how I used to touch it and say "oi mate, kick me, come
on gimme a kick."</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">H</span>e
fulfilled my desire thirty years later.</span>
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
suddenly started crying taking her name. </span>
</div>
</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-58660473261308488772013-03-02T12:50:00.001+05:302013-03-13T13:02:26.980+05:30Love Oh Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lisa charges high, if Lisa is her real
name, for very few know her real name. In this city of Bristol,
there would be a few who charge as high as she does and only hard cash
in your pocket isn't sufficient for you to hire her services. She has
the perfect taste in clothing, the best sense of make up, the make
up which never looked as crude or as vulgar as her competitors. No,
it would be unfair to call them her competitors as Lisa operates in a
different circle altogether. She speaks perfect London accent, which
makes her stand out in Bristol and impeccable vocabulary often makes
her sound more like a teacher or lawyer than what she is, a high
class prostitute.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She arrived in Bristol some 23 years
back, if you believe the old sailor Cunningham, who was one of her
first clients. A girl, fresh from Pampanga in Philippines, who
couldn't speak a word of English, and was sobbing silently while her
agent fixed her hourly rate with the interested clients of foreign
flesh. She was thinly built that time, organs still blossoming to
full youth, just like any other 16 years old girl you see on the
street. Now she has the curves and measurements any man would die for
but not then actually. She was sold for a very high rate after her
virginity was proven.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lisa didn't tell her story to many, she
learnt how not to trust a single person in this treacherous world.
Her agent, old ¨cooky¨ Laurel, told to a few with incomplete
details. Like most pinays, she also landed in the England illegally,
those were not the time of global village concept. She of course
didn't know of this until she was taken into a small boat with 25
more, 30 miles from the shore of England She would be a nurse to old
invalid rich men, who are kind and pays well and will treat her as a
child, her agent in Manila told her. She didn't hesitate and paid the
money she earned working as a hair dresser swiftly. She had a big
family to take care of and her father didn't come home sober ever.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She realised the care the old rich men
needed wasn't exactly what you expect from a hospital nurse or an
aide to disabled. It was something else. She cried, but then like all
others in her profession she adjusted to her fate. From the second
year onward, she could send money home. She found peace. It was
occasionally broken when physically violent customers had her but
later she could hire two muscle-men to shove those customers away
from her apartment.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is something about Richard, Lisa
thought while in the taxi. She is using a taxi today and not her car.
She doesn't want anybody to know where she is going. She met Richard
5 days back. She was sipping her drink alone in Hobert´s when
Richard approached. He later told he is 28 but at first glance he
looked more like 25. He spoke and she didn't pay much heed. After
all, every body wants to talk to her. But there is something in those
words. He didn't look at her with greed in his eyes. His words were
not veil to his suppressed desires to have her in bed. There was a
certain innocence which touched Lisa and she turned her head and they
talked amicably. When he asked for a dinner next day, to her surprise
she agreed. After a long long time, someone asked her for dinner with
no plan to sex afterwards.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lisa pondered a lot after coming back
from the dinner. For after a long time, she laughed wholeheartedly.
His stories were not fascinating, often he spoke how idiotically he
had behaved in certain situations but Lisa liked it. She was smiling
thinking of the moments she just spent with a relative stranger. Oh
no Lisa, you are 39, don't be absurd. You passed your teenage first
love age 20 years ago. He is just being a nice chap.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But then who could control love in this
world? Lisa wasn't any exception. When Richard called again next day,
she cancelled a regular customer to go out with him. It was a
magnificent decision, as it turned out to be. All day they laughed,
she giggled like a teenage girl all the time, sharing jokes randomly
and running around. At 39, it was tiring her but she loved this
feeling. They layd on the green grass side by side, she could smell
him, and watched the sky. Laying side by side when Richard hold her
hand, she knew what it means and against all her reasoning she didn't
withdrew her hand. Love oh love, what magic can you do to the most
logical and bitter person in this world. Next night Lisa asked
Richard for a Dinner at her place.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All day she spent reorganising her
apartment, removing every last bit of evidence of her profession. She
bought a new dress as she didn't want Richard to see her in dresses
in which her customers saw her. She felt like a cleanly washed baby
and bathed for long. With each scrub, she was trying to take off the
years of filth that she has accumulated in the profession.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Richard came and they had the dinner,
perhaps the most romantic dinner in her place ever. She was
habituated of eating alone. At most, the maid servant accompanied
her. All were asked out today, she didn't want to share this moment
with anybody.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After dinner, still at the table,
Richard did something incredible. After 4 days of companionship and 2
dinners together, he asked if Lisa would marry him. Lisa was
speechless after 23 years. Last time she went speechless in sheer
sorrow after knowing why she was brought to England. First time
perhaps, in her total lifetime, she was speechless in happiness. She
didn't reply for a long time.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But this dream wouldn't last long, just
let Richard know of my profession. Her heart was crying, didn't want
the dream to be over so soon, she was liking it. But truth must be
faced. It can´t remain hidden all life and when it will come out, it
will hurt them both. Sighed Lisa, Richard was still looking at her
for an answer. So be it, she though and gathering all her courage,
she asked ¨do you know what I do for a living?”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
¨I knew it all the time Lisa, after
the first drink together I asked about you from someone and I know
exactly who you are. And yet, I am asking for your hand.¨
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lisa couldn't believe that. She tried
not to cry but then all of a sudden she started sobbing and cried
like a baby. Richard hugged her. Next morning they woke up in each
other´s arms. First time in her life, Lisa made love and not served
sex to someone.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The taxi is near the hotel now, the
hotel Richard is staying, Ohh I forgot to tell you, Richard is
vacationing here in Bristol with 3 more friends. Lisa paid the taxi
and went to the reception and moved on to the room. Her heart was
racing, she was praying she is looking great, all her professional
confidence about her look was gone. Richard is going to formally
introduce her to his friends today. She could hear her own heartbeat.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just facing her door, she paused before
entering. She would take some deep breaths and go inside. The door
was slightly ajar and people were talking inside. So all the friends
are here already. She could hear them clearly laughing, perhaps
sharing a joke. One of them controlled the laughter somehow and said,
“ this is incredible Richard, you are a genius.¨</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Richard, her Richard, replied ¨didn't
I tell you I could fuck her for free?¨</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-89147523479448206642012-11-22T18:41:00.000+05:302012-11-22T18:41:07.578+05:30Tribute, Late and Insufficient<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am late, very late indeed in paying
this tribute. It is about Mr Ziauddin Ahmed, my grandfather. If I
start by his achievements, I would stop never. So, I better tell
about his love for me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At the age of 4, I left home with him
for a 15 days trip, never missing my mother which was apt for any
boy.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On his deathbed, he was telling me how
important it is to get educated. Indeed for someone, who lost his
father at the age of 3, he couldn't complete his formal education.
But in my 30 years, I have seen very few, if not none, who can
compete with his knowledge. He once told me that, he used to read
from 10 pm to 3 am every night after handling his business day long.
Finishing and recording 10 books in his mind tells all what kind of a
thirst for knowledge he had.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I attended school very late for he
believed he can teach better than those teachers. My academic
records, if you have seen it, may certify his confidence was
justified. It was him, with his unending dedication to education,
told me to appear for my MBA interviews properly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So many love stories end with death. I
lost him when I was 24 and now I am 30. Never during my failures, my
dark days, days when I feel I am living for no purpose, he fails to
visit my dreams and tell me what to do, which direction to move.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I remember, when I passed my MBA from a
reputed institute, few days later, he came in my dreams and said, I
am so happy, but its time to go for PhD. I never went, I know my
limited qualities and I am ashamed to meet him, even in my dreams.
How I wish he was here, giving me confidence of doing the undo-able,
like he did during the MBA entrance exam. I have lost my force, my
way, my direction and my guide.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now when my marriage is a failure and
both of us considering divorce, when I am probably on the verge of
losing my job, he just visited me today. He was sending me off to
England, for three years, and hugged and cried, saying, what if I
don't live enough, what if I die before you return, this might be our
last meeting. And I was crying hugging him. Even death couldn't stop
him from taking my care.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am Indian, and I don't want to
pretend to be something else, I don't believe in wearing the Peacock
feathers to be a feather. If I am a crow, I am proudly so. Telling
this because, once my grandfather, who never attended high school,
pointed out 16 grammatical mistakes in a single leave application.
The applicant was a girl with her master degree in English. </div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-73594173704322559322012-11-11T16:44:00.000+05:302012-11-11T16:44:42.567+05:30Draft Redesigned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is weird,strange and almost unbelievable the perception of myself I donate to some innocent souls. Perception, as the dictionary states(well, I checked dictionary to be sure that this is the correct word), is ¨apprehension by the bodily organs, or by the mind, of what is presented to them¨. What do I present to some friends and followers which made them claim like, you are a wiki (which certainly I am not except if wiki has changed meaning recently and means idiot now or immense sarcasm is used of which I am doubtful) or you have an idea of/answer to everything. Well, I dont deny it completely since I generally have exactly ¨an answer¨ to everything asked, and it is nothing else than ¨I dont know¨ or some variants of it.<br />
It can prove one thing, as the cynic may point out, that I am surrounded by hypocrites.Why would they say it, I ask back, as I hardly am beneficial, financially or otherwise, for anybody. The cynic goes back silent or mutters something which arent for printing for sure.<br />
The jealous enemy fills in the slot left vacant by cynic, and says, because you are among a bunch of idiots. I must protest against this derogatory comment against my elite group of followers ,who more often than not follows me because they want a good laugh, free of cost and gets it just by being near me and observing,and I do. How can you be alone correct and all my followers wrong? ohh I see, it is because they preferred me over you, isnt it mate? The silenced enemy retreats.<br />
But how on earth I answer myself!! Why do I receive those comments? For one thing, have never, in any way whatsoever, tried to prove my superiority over my followers and most of my this inactivity or laziness arises from the deep rooted belief that I cant, even after my most sincere efforts, prove I am better than anybody in any aspect.<br />
Well, as the last resort, I tried to ask one of my followers, who happened to be online, and I received, the answer as following(pasting from chat):<br />
Rose: yes you are<br />
Rose: discussion is over<br />
Rose: hahahahaha<br />
In a flash, finally I understood the greatest mystery which puzzled me since the inception of my relation with italki.<br />
Thank you italki, thank you my followers, you are the best.</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-73430663606106499282012-11-11T16:43:00.000+05:302012-11-11T16:43:10.526+05:30The Eternal Dilemma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is often the eternal question, to be or not to be. The future holds the key and as we are as unsure of the future as any famous astrologer, we just don't know which way to take. The worst thing is to reach old age, know very well life is spent for once and all and regret making wrong choices. So powerful is this cycle that we never really get out of it.<br />
Whether to become a sportsman or an engineer? My heart wants to be a sportsperson, my father,with all his goodwill and desire, wants me to be an engineer. I can take one way really. What should I do? At the age of 65, should I regret being an engineer or being a sportsperson? this overwhelming question bogs us down. The indecisiveness takes over.<br />
There was a time when I used to think that there should be some unfulfilled desires, those only if make life so much more interesting. But now when I am standing on the verge of a decision which generally people takes only once in a lifetime, I am with this dilemma whether to push a bit more with positive hopes or to break free. Which will not make me regretful? I don't want to regret that I didn't try any more nor I want to regret that I tried all life in vain.<br />
This indecisiveness has gripped me so strongly that I have stopped living a normal life, both sides are pulling me with equal strong forces. God, show me a way, I want to die as a happy man. </div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-15413819661636530792012-05-08T00:01:00.000+05:302012-05-08T00:01:18.812+05:30Can you explain?When Oscar Wilde stopped composing people asked him the reason. He replied, when I didnt know, I wrote; now I know so I dont write anymore. Without claiming to understand what he exactly meant I may use that excuse as well as you may have noticed in my every writing I talk of things which I dont understand at all and thus I keep on writing. This is no exception and so if you are tired of phrases like ¨Ï dont know¨, ¨I dont understand¨ then you may stop reading right at this dot of time because I am again going to talk about love, which although I have felt and come under the influence of, never actually understood. But why be harsh on myself? Who understood this feeling and went on to explain it completely and fully!<br />
<br />
We had a maid who had an unusual life by Indian standards. She was married and had a little son when she eloped with her childhood love and married him. She took her son with her and they were living together. At this point of time, she started to work for us. The kid wasn't too attractive, often used to be sick and always whining. <br />
The news came as a shock. We, in our family, knew that the stepfather doesn't like the kid (well then which step-father does!) and often slaps and shouts at him (I forgot to mention, the kid was around two and a half years old). Little did we guess that one day, in a drunk state, he would beat that little kid so badly that the kid would die.<br />
The news spread like fire, local people stopped the fast and quiet burial the stepfather arranged, local police were informed and soon they arrived. People also had some fun slapping exercise (this is the cruelest part, people behave like they finally have a chance to have some fun by harassing the culprit rather than to express the anger against the crime done) but what surprised me was the attitude of that woman. <br />
Silent she was, no tears, no crying, no nothing. I was there (don't ask me with what intention). She was rather sympathetic when crowd physically harassed her husband although not being too expressive. People called her a witch, a heartless bitch, the cruellest mother on earth and many other chosen unprintable names. At that moment I also agreed because, after reading and experiencing mother´s love for her kids, it was almost unbelievable that she wouldn't have any visible grief on her face. <br />
<br />
It was after few months, to be more specifically yesterday (yes, I couldn't forget the incident and often wonder what happened to that couple in police custody because the stepfather later confessed his misdeed) a new thought hit me. What we saw was a cruel mother, biggest display of heartlessness but on the same time we saw a crazy lover who couldn't stop loving and caring for,forget hating, the killer of her own son. The display of complete lack of love towards her son was also a display of unwavering love towards her life partner.<br />
<br />
Once again, I must say, I failed understand what love is. Once again I accept, like always, love, like many other divine issues (life is one) can only be felt not understood. To understand love is to be God. For us, it is just a chance to witness the new colours love can take and keep your eyes wide open for you don't know when in which shape love may appear.lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-70971939456760963152012-04-20T01:22:00.000+05:302012-04-20T01:22:30.474+05:30When You Miss MeLike every other winter, this winter came. The migratory birds started flocking in. They always take rest for a few days here, in this city before going further east. It suits their need to weather. Never do they mingle with local birds, they look upon them as someone who has been city-pent for all their life. The migratory birds are better, they have seen life, they have seen the world, they know how it looks when snow fills up the world. They pass colourful cities.mountains, rivers. They fly over the ocean, they know so many cultures. Some of them can speak so many languages. Compare it to the life of the local birds of this city, dreary,same old routine. Wake up, eat, chirp and go to bed exactly where their ancestors slept. <br />
This bird came too, with the other migratory birds. They have landed here tonight. Tired from the long distance they flew, they probably will see around the city, to see if anything has changed from last year. Nothing changes actually. It is always the same, be it any city. But this is his first trip. He was drinking the beauty of unseen world with open wide eyes. Can world be this much beautiful? All summer he has herd from his mother and now he was watching. He was singing the hymn in praise of the almighty which his mother taught him when he was a kid.<br />
Tired, he found a place a bit away from the parents, after all he is grown up now. Watching the star filled sky and remembering the journey which was nothing less than a colourful vivid dream, he soon fell asleep.<br />
<br />
Next day, he woke up early. All city must be seen, ohh nothing must be missed. He saw the parliament, strange round top it has. He saw the market and so many spices people are buying. The aroma was best he ever inhaled. He saw the big ground where lovers sit and talk endlessly. It was rather late when he wanted to take a bath in the nearby river.<br />
<br />
He went there, choosing a good spot away from the crowd. The local birds were all bathing that time. He cant understand even a word they are chirping. He searched and searched for a somewhat lonely place. But alas, these local birds have made it their national bathing time perhaps. Giving up he started bathing near them, ignoring the envious and curious gaze he was receiving from them. <br />
Suddenly he heard a song. This was perhaps the best voice he ever heard. He stopped bathing midway and tried to find the singer. Soon he spotted her. It was a local bird, not as gorgeous as his own clan, sitting on the branch of a riverside tree and her bath was done. She was jerking herself dry and singing. He forgot bathing. Not only the local bird was the best singer he ever heard but also there is a charm of simplicity around her. She wasn't pretty but so cute. She wasn't much colourful but in her simple look there was an appeal which his young love filled heart couldn't deny.<br />
<br />
Strange things happen. The migratory,whose clan didn't consider the local birds worthy of greeting even, fell in love with a local bird who was nothing. He flew to her. She was amazed, she was surprised, she was shocked. She also has never seen someone so handsome nor someone has ever praised her beauty so much, leave apart her singing. For she was just one of them, an ordinary bird, destined to live within the city boundary forever. How can this happen? But before they realize they were in love. <br />
<br />
They stayed there for long time. They talked little and watched each other more. And when her parents came looking for her,they were surprised to see her with a migratory. Rather awkwardly, they took her away. She promised to meet him early morning of the next day at the same place.<br />
<br />
That night none of them could sleep.<br />
<br />
They came like they promised next day. She was so shy but love removed every barrier. She taught him her language and she had to sing again and again for he was almost begging her to sing nonstop. She took him to places known only to local birds, she explained local culture. She even introduced him to her friends none of them could say a word out of sheer hesitance and surprise. Everywhere they went, amazed eyes of the local birds greeted them. But when did lovers cared? They lived a dream day of heaven.<br />
<br />
The evening came, next day the immigrants were to leave. They stood facing each other, on the same branch they met for the first time. There, he first took her hand and kissed it. She shivered but how will .she hide the tears! He wiped the tears,¨call me whenever you miss me¨ he said, ¨ for how can I be away if you call me, I shall come¨. The day was like dream of heaven and the night was turning out to be a nightmare of hell. ¨I shall wait for you¨ the local bird said. ¨See,only few days and soon I will be returning from there and we will meet again.¨ the migratory bird said.<br />
She left before her parents come looking for her, he accompanied her to her nest and waved good-bye.<br />
<br />
Early next morning he left.<br />
<br />
The local bird realized one thing when he left. They haven't asked each other´s names. How idiotic, she giggled at first, I shall ask it when he comes during return journey. He is idiotic too, he doesn't know the name of the girl he loves. <br />
<br />
Days passed. He flew to further east, and then they spent all three months there. He cried alone when he learnt that the flock comes through one route and returns via another.<br />
<br />
He went back to where they belong and waited for her call. For if she calls, he would fly even a thousand miles alone , just to be with her. The call never came.<br />
<br />
The local birds wanted to call him but she didn't know his name. She lost her charm, she sang not ever again. Alone and sad she counted days,weeks and months for his return. Finally, when she couldn't take it any more, she started going to the same branch where they met first and sing the same song she was singing when he came to her. She thought ¨when you miss me¨ is his name because he has said, call me ¨ when you miss me¨ . So, with all her heart, she used to sang, ¨when you miss me¨. The voice was so sad that the tree cried, the bank cried, the river cried. ¨When you miss me, when you miss me, when you miss me¨ she called out. <br />
<br />
She still sings, wake up during early morning, and listen carefully, somewhere near your house, she is still waiting and singing, ¨When you miss me, when you miss me, when you miss me, ¨lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-5418630020111532692012-04-13T23:42:00.000+05:302012-04-13T23:42:25.655+05:30Why I believe in God?Even at the mere suggestion of it, I jumped awkwardly and ran away almost invariably always,taking His name. ¨Oh, my God, no, not me¨ is how I expressed my inefficiency generally. For how can I write on something on which I am no authority. But, friends can be persuasive to the extent of emotional blackmailers and even worse a nagging pain in the neck. I finally decided to write this piece to alleviate the pain I am having in the neck for last few days.<br />
<br />
Why I believe in God? The easiest way to answer this everlasting enquiry is to follow the principle ¨ offence is the best defence¨ and ask, why shouldn't I believe in God. To avoid the ohh-I-knew-you-wouldnt-answer-directly smile from my opposition, I am,albeit somewhat reluctantly, dropping this idea.<br />
I chose to be a theist, after knowing and seeing and judging every piece of proof forwarded by both sides myself. Does that make me less logical? No. Believing in something which you cant understand doesn't prove you illogical. For example, I never can understand the mathematical proof of famous formula by Einstein, E=mc2. Should I deny to believe in it? I may do so, at the risk of getting ridiculed by this very scientific clan which often calls me illogical for believe in God without any empirical proof of His existence. I dare say, many of Stephen Hawking´s theories, esp about the 5th, 6th dimensions are not empirically proven. Why then the same minds bow to Hawking and shouts encore encore (in French).?<br />
This universe, which is very orderly, yes I staunchly support what I just said and extremely orderly if I am pressed further, can not be the be outcome of some haphazard cosmic formations. I mean to say, every plan needs a planner, no plan is unplanned. How can this so very minutely planned system, be it ecology or spatial alignment of cosmic bodies or the arrangement of atomic particles, come into existence without having a definite planner? What you call that planner? I call Him, God.<br />
Another point, which I learnt not from anybody but thought about, is the first life. OK fine, the big bang happened, some illegible permutations and combinations took place and this earth came into existence. How life came on it? Science does answer so vaguely that it is not even worthy of the time and effort spent on it to learn it. Lets analyze this a bit ´scientifically´. <br />
<br />
There is no life on earth. Mathematically, it would be denoted as, Life = 0. (We may also use the set theory but I will certainly not dwell there to keep this simple)<br />
Now, Some time after, there is life, mathematically again, Life = 1.<br />
Now, how can we make 1 from zero by using zero only. The answer is simple, by multiplying it with infinity. And lo, there you have God. Didn't in every religion God said, I am infinite? And for the transition from ¨no life¨ to ¨life¨ i.e. from zero to one, we needed the touch of infinity, the divine touch.<br />
<br />
(Mathematics experts may say, why not, 0+1 = 1. The answer is again simple, where from this 1 came, my learned logical friend that you are adding it to zero? Arent you forgetting, on earth life = 0.)<br />
<br />
I was about to write my next point when Pasha, who was idly dragging cigarette with eyes fixated on what I am typing, said, you know what my friend? God isn't a theorem but a hypothesis. You cant prove him like a theorem, but believe Him like you believe in a hypothesis and you can prove everything else.<br />
<br />
My pen dropped....lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-90942084199843271552012-04-07T20:28:00.002+05:302012-04-07T20:28:37.497+05:30Its raining hereIts raining again here. I woke up at midnight missing you.The window was open beside the bed, I let the wet moist air to hit me, to keep me awake, to remind me of your absence more. I let them make my eyes moist. Sometimes it feels good to be sad intentionally. At least the feeling is true, far from the artificial smile and happiness I receive from materialistic tangible pleasures.<br />
Do you still remember when we ran under the portico of a roadside building when it suddenly started to rain? For the first time we were together and the area was in complete darkness. The slanted rain still hit us and we were shivering. Standing close to me, I remember, you were watching my eyes sometimes.<br />
I remember, may be you don't, I used to walk in rain, without caring, just to reach you on time.I still do, just this time, too hide my tears. Yes, I know Mr Chaplin said this, but didn't he say it wonderfully?<br />
Or my incessant poems and songs, you never were tired of those. Some self-made some from poets de la creme. Your watching me, saying, you will catch cold, you never care about your health....when I coughed just now I realised nobody says those anymore.Or may be there is still your memories, who whisper. I still smile like I used to do those days, ye jaan bhi agar nazar karoon to kam hai (even if I gift this life, its nothing.)<br />
It was raining the evening when I said, I love you.<br />
It was the rain who witnessed your acceptance.<br />
It was again raining when you took my permission to leave for the last time. That day, it rained hardest. Or was it the sky crying ?<br />
Aise hi rimjhim aisi fuhaarein aisi hi thi barsaat<br />
khudse juda aur jag se paraye hum dono the saath<br />
fir se wo saawan ab kyun na aaye<br />
-- Majrooh<br />
(same was the drizzle same was the rain same was the weather<br />
away from the worlds and far from ourselves, we were together<br />
why it doesnt now rain the same again )<br />
I still wait, like I used to wait when it used to rain and you used to be late. I had the belief you would come. I still have the belief. Just this time I know my belief is wrong.<br />
humko malum hai Jannat ki haqeeqat lekin<br />
dil ko khush rakhne ko Ghalib khayal achcha hai<br />
(I know the realities of heaven,but<br />
so stay happy, O Ghalib, its best to pretend)<br />
I hope its raining there too and the rain will write this message on your doorstep but till you read them, new rains will wash those away.lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-50072902383305759802012-04-07T20:26:00.002+05:302012-04-07T20:26:25.190+05:30A LetterHi there<br />
Writing this letter because I just want to write. I hope you are well, still smiling and making the world shine brighter. How are you? Just like the same like old days? In my imagination, you are. Guess what, I still see you in the dress you wore for the first meet,when you took my heart away with a mere casual glance.<br />
I feel alone sometimes. Hahaha, yes, I can guess, what you would say. You have lots of admirers Aseer, why will you miss a dull girl who left you while you were begging her to stay with teary eyes. But you see, sometimes someone leaves and the place is never refilled.<br />
I know you left me, you know you left me, the world knows you left me.It was perhaps our destiny. Who can fight it anyway? We fought,at least I did. I failed,thats another issue.<br />
The last bottle of perfume spray you bought for me, I never used it after you left.Sometimes I open the cap and smell it. Reminds me of you. The unexpected gift, bought the shine in my eyes, which reflected from your eyes and I was basking in that glow. Hey, do you still remember or just giggling at a crazy man?<br />
Yes, I didnt give up smoking, I know I am bad. You hated it and I gave up while you were with me, but since you left I resumed again. The blue smoke, when the cigarette burns idly, draws your face in the air and before I can quench the thirst of my eyes,it goes away. Damned smokes. Hey, but I promise, when I meet you again, I give up smoking. Or perhaps I will not be able to smoke.<br />
I still make bed for two, and like my weird habit, I wake up and find myself on your pillow.hahaha, Old habits die hard. Ohh my, didn't you hate me for the sleep!<br />
I have changed job, by the way. Did I inform you in the last letter? I am not working anymore in the corporate, you hated it. I remember getting late on our anniversary and I had no word to say sorry. I now teach students, little kids at home. I try to make them a better human being, not an engineer or a doctor. Wish, I had one of my own. At 43, I have started to feel lonely, and yes, old a bit.<br />
Before I forget, The rose plant you planted, 3 big red roses are at full youth on it. I kissed them secretly last evening, imagining I am kissing you. Hope none saw me doing that, else they would have called me one insane old maniac hah<br />
I know,like my all other letters, you will not answer. So I will keep it in the diary. Anyway, which postman can deliver a letter to the other world! I hope you are happy there. I hope I come there soon and meet you again.<br />
<br />
still now, only yours<br />
Ilonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-51348327535038283622012-03-20T22:11:00.001+05:302012-03-20T22:11:40.509+05:30Aimless WritingLately, I have received a comment that I often write without aim and without knowing what I want to say. Protesting, let denying apart, is the last thing on my mind. I, on the contrary, want to thank Roselu, my ardent and sincere follower for reasons best known to her only, for this minute observation.Wonderful insight you have.<br />
I wonder often, how logical or ethical it is to write without a purpose or aim and to my utter dismay, I find it quite influential in the history of literature. Absurdity, which may be a close ally of aimless writing, was the only ingredient of Alice In Wonderland, wasnt it?Or, the Italian revolutionary poem writing technique by the new renaissance poets. Cut a newspaper article, word by word, mix them, pick them on a random basis and keep them pasting on your notebook and, somehow, you have a poem ready with possible needs of grammatical rectification. As poems are often placing words in a way never before so this randomness in choosing words were not far from the much more conscious efforts of known poets like Hafez, Ghalib or Hikmet.<br />
Poems are poems, they cant be described, like I said to Roselu a few days ago, on which of course we disagreed (for anyone will disagree with such an absurd claim) and had a good discussion. My point was poems must be felt not understood but the problem was with my overtly simplified statement. Indeed poems needs to be discussed but not in a way to impose the teacher´s interpretation of the poem on the student but gently and subtly explain the nuances which the young mind may fail to grasp at the first go. A poem is a thought or a feeling which the poet himself has explained best in the form of the poetry. How absurd can be explanation of an explanation!!<br />
Big words bore me, tire me and most importantly beat me. So, lets go back to the usual trivial,unworthy and really forgettable writing style I originally have. After death of a great modern poet, people found a scrap of paper in his pocket and felt it was his last masterpiece. In the ceremony when people were bestowing best respect on him, they read aloud the last poem.<br />
few cigarettes, two toothbrush<br />
please get the clothes from the laundry<br />
deposit school fee without fail<br />
potatoes two kg, onions one<br />
.............. A shrill sound from the recently widowed wife came and said, that is not poem, it was my note to him before he was going out, he was forgetful lately.<br />
That is what I make of modern poetry and poets and, mostly the admirers.<br />
Cheerio alllonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-90957475559872619332012-03-20T22:08:00.002+05:302014-03-24T13:08:03.511+05:30Inseparable<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Although we are inseparable<br />
It doesn't stop them from trying<br />
Burning with jealousy,unfounded<br />
When they watch you lying on my chest<br />
The sun burns you<br />
Transforms you into vapour<br />
Takes you high up beyond my reach <br />
Transforms you into white clouds<br />
Then the strong breeze<br />
Carries you across continents<br />
There, on valleys and on mountains<br />
on treetops and vast fields<br />
You come down crying<br />
Rushing through endless channels,canals and rivers<br />
You plunge on my chest again<br />
You return to me, to be mine again<br />
We yet again become inseparable<br />
We again become one.</div>
lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-5124159959106032032012-03-20T22:07:00.001+05:302012-03-20T22:07:45.087+05:30DestinationWhen we walked<br />
We had a vision<br />
In our youthful strides<br />
We had the energy of a stallion<br />
We can change the world<br />
We also will<br />
Ranting and chanting<br />
We moved ahead<br />
Slowly came the crossroads<br />
Some went right and some went left<br />
We shall meet again<br />
We promised each other<br />
Then again and again<br />
Crossroads came<br />
And people were divided<br />
We made promises our parting gift<br />
And moved ahead<br />
The vision became hazy<br />
The destination still far<br />
In the tired strides<br />
I still tried to conquer<br />
Then suddenly I turned back<br />
To find a companion to rest<br />
I was alone and very alone<br />
All of them were gone.lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000674699196359140.post-65708913933221816642012-03-20T22:06:00.001+05:302012-03-20T22:06:50.559+05:30Urges UntamedTimes are there when we feel this urge, or these urges. First of these urges are completely illegible. Our minds, however sharp and analytical it might be, fails pathetically in deciphering those urges. We just feel the need of something without any understanding, or even a hunch for the sake of it, what the need is. We fiddle with ideas, or with things in more desperate cases, considering extremes, toying with impossibilities. Clueless we remain on our course of action for we certainly are unaware of the need of the soul. Question arises, is it really the soul asking for it? Or, is it just a mere whim, a passing fancy? No answer satisfies us. We try to divert mind, get frustrated, vent our anger on someone or something, ranging from the ashtray to the girl friend via the pet cat, completely irrelevant with the cause of the frustration, We later do apologize but at that moment we don't care and moreover it is not the point of this blog. How do we end this span? Or better wonder how this thing, whether it is some urge unidentified or a whim or some fancy or even may be some hormonal or chemical dis-balance in our brain as some overtly scientific mind will put it, leaves us finally? Well, while some find shelter in addictions of various types, some prefer to seek refuge from the divinity and some just sleep.<br />
I used plural all though this blog, and may face some questions on my authority to do so. But, it is one of those urges on me and I certainly do not care right at this moment but I of course shall welcome any comment of whatsoever type.lonesome.wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05194171403194694412noreply@blogger.com0