Poetry - Possessed

Across the sea… in the blue end be a little solace … in a lonely place with trees so dark with glowing bark .. leaves which glisten as I listen sounds of heart pounding so fast as I cross roads so crass leading to an end then having a bend as I walk the lonely path I shun the world purge the mind drew the blind as I kneel over the pond and plucked some water between my palms and in it were you looking at me . I turned behind only to find a distant hill beyond the chill … and I rushed with all my might having the distant knoll in sight trees cried so did the sea don’t go, don’t go O! wanderer knight but possessed I was with your only sight I jumped the tree and crossed the sea only to find everything but thee and I sat gasping for breath as I longed a little solace in a lonely place ……

Potery: English: Someday

someday I will say, this far and no more
someday I will stand and say, fall no more
someday I will see my face in a spring of water
love what I see and think of no more

someday I will be the picture and not the pieces
someday I will be the destination not the traces
someday I will see the spirit not the faces
someday I will feel the people not the images

someday I will live life, not the dream
someday I will want you, not your notion
someday you will meet me, not my imagination
someday we will find love, not its apparition

someday nothing will exist, but me and you
someday nothing will be desired, but me with you
someday I will fear nothing, but me without you
someday it will be the same, this me and you

Someday...

Poetry English: Want to write a poem

I want to write a poem today
I want to strum a guitar,
I want to here the temple bells
I want to listen you play the sitar

do I talk about the moon
how I played with its kids all night
or of the people I am fond of
of the memories I am slave to

I want to tell you what I feel
I want you to know what I think
I want to write this poem for you
but where are you when I look for you

I can fill it in with all those words
which I know but really dont mean
I can say all the phoney things
but I want to write a peom not a rhyme

Poetry Hindi: Kuchh Naya Banana Chahata Hoon

Ek naya geet gaana chahata hoon
Kuchh naya banana chahata hoon
Jo jeevan ne kheench di hain
Main har wo lakeer mitana chahata hoon

Tan thaka hua hai, kaaya maili
Man par ek bojhil shaam hai phaili
Raat se bhi kuchh door chale jo
wo swapana sajana chahata hoon
Kuchh naya banana chahata hoon

Bandha hua hoon, daas nahin hoon
Sisake, rah jaye, wo aas nahin hoon
bhabhake, bujh jaye, wo aag nahin hoon
lekin phir bhi chup hoon kyonki
aam hoon main kuchh khaas nahin hoon…

Human Touch - It is all about Layers

Thought is a good thing, probably best of the things. And like all good things, it should not be done in excess. Why do we need it in the first place? We need it because it can help us understand the world outside us. There is an old saying, “there is a God in all of us”. And there is a modern saying, we all have a conscious within us with which we react, respond and live. They mean the same thing. They mean that somewhere within us, there is an unknown who uses the known part of ours as per its whims and fancy. What is known is our physical state, the things around us, the people, the place. What is not is why we like some of them over others? Why people have different preferences and priorities. The question mark of why?
This is where thought emerges again. To solve this why, to capture this unknown and give it a shape. We use this dangerous tool called though to understand, grasp, slot and finally define, what can not be. The unknown within us is truly a God in itself. Just like God can not be defined or understood. We can only understand its manifestations. We can only grasp its few sides and say that this is what it seems to be. And just like, centuries of though have failed to put God in a box, a lifetime can never be sufficient to put down the part of it which lives in each one of us.

Okay, understood that thought can be dangerous thing and it may not be too suited to understand the Buddha in us. But what the hell is your point?
Yeah, I agree. I lost the point. Wait and just hang on. Let me go back to why I felt it is a piece which needs to be written.
Well, of late I have been experimenting with many a predictors, fortune-tellers and face-readers. I have been a bunch of them, from road-side, Rs 10 worth, to those who claim to have studied it in detail and were actually quite good at it.
While we normally end with the analysis of self, so many of analysis made me analyze my reactions to analysis itself. Why is it that whenever someone tells these things, you want to believe it. How much truth is there in it really? Are we really defined by those statements that they had made. You have been an underdog. You have faced quite a bit of criticism. You think too much. You are very emotional. Everything is alright other than your thought process. So much and so forth.

First thing I realized that all these things are just the manifestations of the living being within us. Outcome of the reaction of the living within us to the dead outside us. People with similar living within, find similar manifestations. Same very people find themselves falling apart as the living within changes.

Second thing I realized was that getting caught in them is a dangerous thing. It may be good to be aware of them to may be understand the events. It may help you to simplify your reactions and bring them to normal. With time it may paint a picture which is more easy to accept and move on with. But doing anything more with them is really not worth it.

Third thing I realized was that people use their brain, by which I mean logical brain for essentially two purposes. One is to find ways to do what they want to do. Second is to find a reason to not do what they find themselves incapable of doing. We can add one more use of it, to find an acceptable reason for what they have to do anyway (With or without a choice).

Most motivators talk with the first objective, to find ways to do what you want to do. Pacifiers work on the second part. The healers act as mediators for the third, to find an acceptable reason for what they have to do.

Let me take the three cases in a bit of detail because that is of direct relevance to us in day-to-day life. The first case belongs to scenario when objective is clear. I want this, help me reach there. In these cases one seeks information, insights, experience without having to go through it. Why make a mistake when someone else had done and learned from it. This probably is most constructive use of thought. How do I buy a house? What is a good time for it? Which is a better company to work for? Which one pays more? Etc etc.

Second one is a bit interesting. Sometimes life makes choices available, which we desire but are not capable of taking it up. This is a strange situation to be in. There is no need to pick up the choice and that is what we want. But the reasoning behind it, is not something we are comfortable with. Typical situations? I would have become an entrepreneur but it does not make sense for me. But for you, I controlled myself.

The third one is the reason most analyzers exist. Sometimes in life we have no real choice. All we have is a choice of reason. To each his own. Everyone wants a reason which is in accordance with their line of thought about themselves. And they keep searching for one, till they get it.

Short Story - The Dead Man's Chest (Half way)

The Dead Man’s Chest

The Cell

The cellar was dark. So was everything else. He spread his grey blanket, the brightest thing in there and tried to lie down on the floor. He couldn’t find a comfortable posture. He kept shuffling his body hoping to find one. But nothing in his body had remained straight. It had become slightly bent forward. His hands and legs appeared frail. His unshaven face was incapable of rendering any expression. It seemed as if lines have frozen on it. His eyes had a still look as well. They seemed the same all the time. Nothing surprised them and nothing made them feel awake. He said his prayer as he finally settled in his bed. His eyelids closed to cover his still eyes. They kept the same look even as his body rested. The darkness pervaded both, the cellar and his inner world.
He got up early and like every other day, finished his daily routines even before any other prisoner got up. He sat next to the bars and waited. Soon the silence had begun to be encroached. He sat in silence as the noise grew. Soon, the sentry was there and was shouting.
He kept sitting and looked at the wall ahead with his still eyes. Someone was approaching his cell. He got up and stood against the door of the cell as it was being opened by the sentry. He came out and joined the line of prisoners to be taken for daily-work.
He began to move as the gate was opened and prisoners began to stream out. He stepped out and moved towards the place where tools were kept. He began picking them up as his hands were held by someone. His hands froze. He didn’t react. He did not know how to. It was the first aberration in his routine in last five years.
Someone was saying something. But it was not making any sense to him. Worlds had long ceased to have any affect to him. They were just bits of sound to him. They happened in the same manner each day. They just meant that he should do what he was anyway going to do.
But this sound was not supposed to be here. It had not been there in past five years.
The sound kept on getting louder. He remained frozen as his hands had begun to shake. Something was stirring within him. He had met something unfamiliar and had to come up with a new response. Finally, he dropped the tools and looked in the direction of the sound. The frozen lines were trying to move on his face. He felt his face will break into pieces. His mind had begun to work overtime to understand the pictures being captured through his eyes. The still eyes were being forced to come out of their slumber. He saw a few bodies in uniform standing at a little distance from him. The sound was still coming from their direction though it still didn’t mean anything to him. The lines on the face of one of the body in uniform moved. It seemed to be smiling. He was horrified and quickly turned back to pick up his tools.


The Exit

I am very happy for you Abdullah, said the Jailor.
We all are very happy for you Abdullah, said Rahim the Sub-Inspector as he touched his shoulder.
He stood blank trying to hold everything being thrown at him. Sound had begun to be formed out of worlds. Though they still didn’t mean much.
You are a free man now. I know seven years are a lot of life. But many such years are still left. I hope you can start your life again, said the jailor as he extended his hand towards Abdullah.
He kept looking at the jailor’s face for long. The frozen lines on his face had begun to straighten up. His mind was trying to store all the words so that he can understand them later. Abdullah looked at jailor’s extended hand and looked back at the jailor. He instinctively grabbed his hand with both of his and shook vigorously as his face cringed to express gratitude.

Abdullah crossed the prison door leaving the jailor and his deputy behind it. The door was slowly closed on him. He heard the sound of it being locked from behind as his gaze was fixed on the road ahead. His body was still bent forward and he was feeling very uncomfortable in his new clothes. He tried to adjust his body in them to get the familiar feel. The clothes were loose for him. Years had made him thin. Irritated, he took out the clothes and held them in his hand and began to walk.
He was walking slowly. The road was empty and deserted. He didn’t know where it leads to. Not that it mattered. It was a new world to him and he was not liking it.
His pace increased as he kept on walking. Every now and then he will notice something pass by him but before he could respond, it would be gone. He was not used to so much activity. But he kept on walking. There was no reason why he should, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t either.
It had been hours since he had been walking. Things around him had begun to change more quickly. More people were passing him by now. He was able to make eye contact with them. But before he could see their face, they would pass him by. Some of them seemed to say something to him. But he was unable to both look at them and hear what they were saying. But he kept on walking.
The street was getting busier, and noisier. There were vehicles on it. He felt naked. He got into his trousers and held his shirt over his shoulders. He was trying to cross the road. As he reached in the middle of it he could hear loud sounds of horns. Someone of shouting at him. He stood there, motionless. Soon there were many more, shouting at him.
Who is this idiot, someone was saying.
Are, take him off the road, said someone else.
A policeman approached and stood in front of Abdullah. He was the first familiar thing he had seen since he stepped out of the prison. Abdullah looked at the policeman hoping to hear the words they always said, this way.
Who are YOU?, he said instead.

The Dog

The police van left him near the sea.
God knows where do they come from, said the policeman before pushing him down the van.
Abdullah stood on the sea shore. The sun was beginning to set. He began walking again.
The water touched his feet and he shivered. The shirt dropped from his shoulders. He kept on walking. He was waist deep into the water now. His trouser had become too heavy. He took it off and kept on walking. His eyes were fixed into the horizon. All sounds were beginning to cede.
He was now chest deep into the water. A wave was approaching him. He stood waiting for it. As the wave approached him, he held the ground with his toes. The wave hit him hard and threw him back. He began to flounder and moved abruptly to stand up again. He had been shaken. He was beginning to enjoy the game with the sea. The two played together for some time. The waves will throw him off his feet and he will fight back on his feet, ready to face it again.
The sea was getting serious now. It was no more just a game to it. It was time to get it over with, it thought. It fell silent for a moment. Abdullah, stood up and planted his feet firmly on the ground this time. He could see a big mighty wave approaching him from a distance. He clinched his faced as deep lines on his face resurfaced but this time had a slightly altered position. He closed his eyes and began to wait for the sea.
With his eyes closed and body tense, he began to hear some voices. Images were emerging in his head. A man was sitting in a big office. It had well cushioned chairs. There were paintings on the wall. His phone kept on ringing. The place spoke of riches. He always appeared to have this irritating expression. He kept on smiling. Now the same man was driving a car. It was a big car, a huge car, riches’ car. This man kept on appearing in his head. He was in the middle of a meeting now, talking boldly and he would be among a gathering of thousands receiving something from someone else on stage, the next moment. This man seemed to have it all. Abdullah didn’t like this man. He tried to shirk him out of his mind. A new face appeared this time. It was of a woman. He hadn’t seen any in years. She had a very smooth face. There were no marks on her face. But she didn’t seem to be wearing anything. Her face was bearing an expression he didn’t know. She seemed in pain. She seemed in pleasure. But he couldn’t see anything other than her face. There was something covering it but it was not a piece of cloth. It was someone’s body. There was someone on top of her. He could see his back clearly. Who are they?, he wondered as the first man reappeared, this time on the door of the woman’s room. His eyes were flaring.
The scenes were changing very fast now. There was absolute mess. He could see the first man standing in the court. He could see the woman, the second man shouting at him. He is impotent, she was saying. Abdullah felt as if she is saying this to him. You have cheated our firm, the second man screamed at him. He saw many more men. A doctor, a lawyer, man on the street, anyone who read newspaper, everyone who liked to hear gossip, the whole world. They all had gathered around him and screaming hoarse with their finger raised. Y..o...u……a..r..e……t..h..a..t…….m..a..n.., they were saying.
He wanted to escape. He wanted his peace back. He wanted these images to go away. He opened his eyes and saw the wave standing right ahead of him waiting to submerge him. He was undeterred by it. A tense calm was spread on his face as he realized many a things. The man was him, the woman his wife. The second man his friend and the business partner. He had lost seven years behind prison and everything he had outside it.
The wave hit him and swept him off his feet. He didn’t resist this time and was drowned under it.
He sank to the bottom of the sea. His chest was choking. He had begun to gulp water but he sat still. The tension was evaporating from his face with only calmness remaining on it. His lungs were bursting with water. He began to feel a gentle scratch on his chest from outside. He didn’t feel the bursting of his lungs but could feel the scratch. Finally, I am dead for real, he thought. He serenely opened his eyes. He saw a dog in front of him. It was struggling hard to swim against the wave. Abdullah watched the dog dispassionately and told him, just a few seconds more and we both would be absolved of it. The dog seemed to have read Abdullah’s mind. He pulled himself closer to Abdullah. Dog’s eyes were filled with fear and they were pleading Abdullah for help. Abdullah looked at the Dog with scorn and pushed it back. He closed his eyes again and waited for his lungs to burst completely. The Dog, furious at Abdullah pulled himself with all his might. He came closer to Abdullah and struck hard on his chest with his paw. Abdullah, opened his eyes, they were red with fury. The water around him filled with his blood as it dripped from his chest. Their eyes met and he saw Dog’s meek eyes smoldering. The dog was still trying to hit upon Abdullah but was getting carried away by the mighty wave. The fury dissipated from Abdullah’s face and he broke into a loud laughter. He held the dog with his both hands and stood up out of the water and wave. The wave went up once again as Abdullah stood with open eyes on firm ground. It began to recede after that leaving the two and didn’t come back.
Abdullah put the dog on the ground. You are my friend, my only friend said Abdullah as it began to rub its ears against his legs in gratitude. The two began to walk with the dog leading the way.

And Along came Buddha

Without intent, have been hearing, reading and viewing about Buddha quite often over past few days. An animation movie on Buddha was being shown on the television. News paper carried an article about Deepak Chopra’s biopic on Buddha. A friend talked about Buddha and his way of Nirvana. He talked about how he feels about life and the day-to-day occurrences related to it. He said he doesn’t enjoy them. He feels they are way too ordinary and common place to feel elated about. They do not in any way provide a meaning to life. And what doesn’t provide a meaning could not be an emotion worth living. Right? Well, I definitely couldn’t refute his point of view. But I couldn’t agree with him as well. Does an individual not perform the day to day activities once he has found meaning of life? What does he do all day? Are these seemingly little moments really so little and worthless? But then I want to live all of them for they are all there seem to be in life. Anyway, this is not about me, this is about Buddha.

Why did Buddha talk about what he did talk about? Why did Buddha say that life is a cycle of birth and death and is full of sorrows? Why did he say that to get out of it is Nirvana? What made him suggest the eight-fold way to lead life which can save us from sorrow. Why was he so horrified of sorrow, if I may say so? And why is it that we, the ordinary folk are so very comfortable with a world full of sorrow that we want to live in it and face each day with an optimism of a perfect tomorrow. Though each one of us knows that there is never going to be a perfect tomorrow. That such a day has never come for anyone, ever. And if it has ever come, it has never stayed for long.
So why? Why is Buddha so concerned about something which even a common individual feels so comfortable with?

Answer may lie in Buddha’s life. The man that he was and the experiences he went through. A man of riches, a man who knew no sorrow. All he witnessed was pleasure. All he savored was life. Sun rose to give him light and dusk happened to let him play in the moon-light. All this continued till one day. The one very day when he stepped out of his palace and saw the other side of the coin. The sun rose because it has to. It went down because it had to. For each drop of pleasure he had, there was a coinciding side of sorrow. For each fruit he savored, someone had labored. For each man that was born, someone had died. And suddenly he just saw two sides of life, . Life and death. Pleasure and sorrow. Dusk and dawn. Unlike others who see it in unison, he saw it in two distinct pieces. And it tormented him. How can I savor something which will not last? How can I live in a moment of happiness if I know the source of it will soon fade and eventually die? He had always lived believing in eternity of the life and all the pleasures it brought with it. Now that he could see the futility of it, the fragility of it, the transience of it, he couldn’t enjoy anything anymore. He probably traveled from place to place, people to people, hoping to find one such place, where the moment stays. Trying to find one such piece of life, which would not change. Looking for that truth which can not be questioned. Which can be his companion for life and beyond and which will never change. Till he could find such a thing, these was no peace, only torture. There was no life, only questions. A child was born, lets celebrate, people said. But why?, asked Buddha. For he is going to die someday. He will grow and go through pain and suffering. Why should we celebrate something which is full of horrors? The question, the doubt and cynicism became his life. His each and every moment was filled with this question which seemed unanswerable. The quest was quenched only when he found his own answers. His own set of principles, his own truth. When he accepted life as a cycle of birth and death, of pleasure and sorrow. When he accepted that there is no getting away from it till we are in it. And that moment he became Buddha. He became the consciousness which lives this truth. The spirit which believes in it, is shaped by it. His response to each moment of life, each question of his followers came from one pot, that life is full of sorrow and everything in it is cyclic.

But then, it is not just about Buddha. It is about each one of us. We look at life with our own consciousness. It may not be so very much defined though. It may just be an unsaid, not-so-well-understood set of experiences, beliefs and motivations. But then it is, whether we know about it or not. We all are our own living Buddhas. Our Buddha may not be so evolved though. And who am I or anyone else to say who is evolved. Buddha, the evolved one, could very well be the most under-developed. He didn’t understand one basic fact of life, that it is transient. But then he was evolved because he knew his own version of truth. He was Buddha because not only he knew it, he lived with it. He was Buddha because his each moment was infused with his consciousness, which was so clear, lucid and consistent.