War ..... (Poetry)

My bloodied hands leave stain on my soul,
My memories speak of murder and plunder,
The countless victims of my campaigns foul,
Haunt my sleeps like lightning and thunder.

The rapacious hunger for loot and killing,
Beastly carnage of the hell's fury let loose,
Each account more horrid, more chilling,
Each action a witness of the evil I chose.

Cries and screams pierce my heart no more,
Death and destruction on hunt of prey,
Deriving savage pleasure from blood and gore,
Shadow of fear and hunger cast on the day.

Nourished by the suffering far and wide,
Stabbing my own kin for my wicked desires,
Blowing out flames of life in my stride,
Destroyiong, razing, burning, setting fires.

Where will I stop? When is the end?
How low morally will still I descend,
How will I ever get rid of this scar,
Left on me by monster named war.

Hue and Cry...(Poem)

The hues of humanity,
Discrete fragments,
Bonded by fate,
Struggle to dominate,
Differences magnified,
Labor for equality,
Prejudice, Resentment,
Mutual emotions,
Conflict and peace,
Blood and water,
Climbing, Falling,
Helping, Ditching,
Where will it lead?
Future untold.

Growth and Development

Is the balanced development of a society, a nation the result of good governance, cultural influences, will of people to develop or successful policy? I know that the answer is all of the above and some more factors not mentioned earlier. I am just trying to understand which, is a catalyzing factor which adds to the strength of other factors or even out a missing factor. Most important point to note is that we are discussing not just development but ‘balanced’ development, by which I mean along with growth and prosperity we also see a very low disparity of wealth.
I believe cultural influences and resolve of the people are the very basic initiators of development. Especially for the nations which experienced development in the early era, the developed nations of Europe and Americas. This is what drove the explorers to explore new lands, the traders to travel far and wide and conquerors to seek new victories. The early start advantage these nations got still stay with them though the rest of the world, especially the third world countries like India and Brazil are fast catching up.
Successful policy at the Governmental level is very important factor too. And this has been demonstrated very effectively by the emerging nations like India and China. Some very important policy changes in the nineties fueled the rapid growth in both these countries. What once were cumbersome bureaucracies have now been transformed into agile sprinters that are poised to leave behind the mighty giants of the world economy. The growth has been almost all round in both these countries. Along with the healthy statistics like GDP growth, currency valuation and stock market indices etc, there has been considerable improvement in the per capita income and most importantly the standard of living of the common masses. Yes, there still exists a vast gap between the haves and have-nots in these two countries, but it is much smaller than what it used to be and is shrinking by the day. There is also an increase in the number of rich and middle class while the number of poor is reducing. The governments are trying new policies to alleviate poverty.
Good governance and political will holds the key to the development of the underdeveloped nations in the world now. The developed and emerging nations certainly extend a hand of help to help the underdeveloped nations, but it is the Government which can translate this foreign aid into all round development. The Governments of these countries need to decide their priorities in terms of human development and economic growth factors and formulate a roadmap to achieve their goals. The recipe of development will need all the ingredients, Good governance and political will to make efficient use of the assistance available from developed countries, policy level determination to avoid siphoning of funds and utilizing the funds in the best possible way and the will of the people to keep the Government in check and keep analyzing the performance of their leaders. Let us hope that one day we will see entire humanity standing on equal grounds, reaping the benefits of technological advancements and having equal opportunities.

Question...

What is it that drives human will? Maybe this question has been asked before. Or maybe for some, this question is very naïve to ask. But there can be plenty of answers and the question is how do you decide which is the most important of all. By driving the human will, I mean providing the motivation to struggle against adversities, to hope when surrounded by dire circumstances and to fight for what one desires. This motivation, does it come from some ancestral instinct or is it acquired after birth in childhood years.
We can possibly classify the factors of this motivation into two broad categories; fear and want. Both stem out from basic survival instinct. Fear in a broader sense, as an instinct, teaches us to seek protection from that what might harm us. Be it beasts, storms or enemies. Fear then develops into many different types depending upon the situation. In the most primitive environment, the fear can be of a wild beast or a storm. In modern sense fear often stems not from direct objects or events but rather consequences of events. In simpler words modern day fear is about losing. Like fear of losing money or wealth, fear of losing loved ones or fear of losing power and status and so on. In some parts of the world fear for life is still very much a real phenomenon. Genocides, civil wars and terrorist acts continue to spill blood even in the civilized world.
Fear may be the driving factor in most of the cases. Especially in situations threatening status quo, may it be an extreme incident like natural disasters or riots and wars where actual existence is at stake. In such cases we find exceptional will power in most common people. The will to survive enables people endure worst suffering in hope that it will pass. Another type of circumstances may be less extreme in comparison but still can have a huge impact on an individual’s life. These may be serious in varying degrees. From losing one’s job to having a heartbreak, from facing public disgrace to losing wealth and status. And each individual will react differently and in different extent to each of these threats.
While fear drives most people to bring forth will power even they never knew hitherto existed, want drives people to draw on enormous strength and resolve to get what is desired. An entire gamut of emotions comes under the want category, from simple survival needs like food and water to natural instincts like sex and excesses like greed, ambition and lust. Simple logic might suggest that more basic is the need, stronger the will to fulfill it. This is true in most of the cases. A person deprived of food might kill to eat. But there are many occasions when excesses like greed, luxury or lust drive people so hard that they tend to forget the difference between the right and wrong, giving rise to crimes like corruption, scams and rapes.
While we search for the answer to the question about what drives the human will, we also need to search for one more answer. How do we use this knowledge to mould and channelize human race from civilization to super-civilization, a mature society where peaceful co-existence and mutual co-operation are pillars of the social order? Golden era of human race may then truly begin.

The Lazy Cloud...

Like a silver gray cloud,
Lazily drifting with the wind,
No intention to pour soon,
Just enjoying the ride,
Believing in my silver lining,
But still too indolent to shine,
I can see everything,
But care to do nothing,
About anything,
The stupor induced,
By slow glide ride,
Giving in to the wind currents,
Even languid to change direction,
The lethargy prevails.

Blood Brother ...(Poem)

The blood that runs through the veins,
Flows through the streets like rivers,
The ties broken long ago,
Beckon our souls no more,
The battlefield full of unnamed graves,
Of soldiers from both sides young and brave,
The cities of skyscrapers, neon lights and cars,
The countenance of society veiling the scars,
Separated from my brother by barbed wire,
The path to union splattered by gunfire,
I wait for the day when I can call my kin my own.

Blood Brothers...

Last night while partying, my friends and I met up with a Pakistani guy. There were hi and hellos and he was easily included in our group. Dancing with us, drinking beer and watching some good looking girls around us. He looked one of us, dressed like us and spoke our language. That was the moment I realized that he is one of us. A blood brother, same race and from what used to be same country a little more than six decades ago.

Then why are there lines that divide us? Pakistan and India have had long standing enmity between them. The relationship between the two neighbors has always been lined with mutual suspicion and mistrust. The derogatory slogans for the other have not been uncommon in both the countries. The Kashmir and terrorism has been the bone of contention. This hatred has overflowed in the arena of sports in form of rivalries like in cricket and hockey.

But is this the ground reality for the whole of the two nations? Does a humble fireworks factory worker in Kerala (the southernmost state of India), who can barely make ends meet, care so much to hate Pakistan or Pakistanis? Or would a poor rickshaw driver in Lahore, who listens to Bollywood music and is Shahrukh Khan fan, prefer to be at war with India.

The common man on both the sides is well aware that war would only bring ruin to both the countries. If both the Governments concentrate on developmental issues and seek each other’s cooperation then probably there will be no stopping for us. And India and Pakistan together can bring the entire south Asian continent to prosperity. The key to the future for more than a billion people of the sub continent is end of the animosity between the blood brothers.

Global Village...

One of the benefits of travelling is that it opens up your mind. After being exposed to so many different cultures, customs and view points, it is difficult to be narrow minded. I love this aspect of travelling. Yes I love sight seeing, the monuments, the museums, the marvels of the modern world. But more than that I love meeting people, talking to them, mingling with them and knowing them.

I am fortunate till now to have had opportunity to travel across India and then in middle east and Africa. Each city I went to, each country I lived in, I found some new and different things and also few similarities. Yes similarities, thats what prompted me to write this post. When I cam eto Africa, I did not expect to find anything like India. The portrayal Hollywood movies and Discovery and National Geographic documentaries had helped me form my perception.

And yes it is different, very different. The people are different, the culture is different. But I was surprised to see so much of Indian influence here. The kiswahili (thats the language of kenya) word for tea is Chai, and the one for keys is chhabbi. That was about language, another area where influence of a culture can be observed is food. Chappo is a part of the staple diet for breakfast lunch or dinner. Now chappo is a roti or chapatti or a parantha.

But I was amused most by something else. When I was working in India I used to attend meetings in Government offices and all used to be same. They will start with a formally written agenda and lot of unnecessary attendees. Then the discussion would drift away from the topic at hand to some random interdepartmental talk. And the would come the tea break, with tea, biscuits and samosas. When I came to Kenya, I went for some meeting in Government departments here. The office premises are exactly like Government offices in India, polished wooden panels and doors, huge desks and vintage look, a common British legacy. Then the meeting went exactly like India, the agenda, the attendees and the random talk. And then came tea with biscuits and..........yes samosas. Samosas here too...Now that is the Global Village.

Destiny and Identity

The cacophony that surrounds me,
Engulfing the elusive peace within,
Which I strive hard to find,
The rush of moments,
The nostalgia and adrenaline.
Never reaching within, ever without,
Knowing the answers which,
I don’t fully understand,
The questions that never cease.
Reality refusing to seep in,
Stinging eyes blinded by haze,
Way too clear, road obscured,
Visions clear, vision blurred.
A destiny to fulfill,
An identity to discover.

Nobody is Perfect..

Not much of a realization. A kind of widely accepted principle, I must say. But still, I have this habit of evaluating people’s behavior and analyzing their actions. When I meet someone new, I do not form instantaneous opinions of them. For some time, I observe their actions and their reactions to various stimuli and then form my perception of them. This again, is not my final opinion. I keep on observing and assessing the person. Yes, there are some times when I like or dislike a person at first glance. But I try to overcome such bias and understand the person better.
But the problem comes after an opinion formed after much of evaluating and analyzing proves wrong. Well, most of the times it does not prove completely wrong but many a times some vital assumption about the person turns out to be incorrect. I do not expect anyone to be perfect. I will not, at least till I can call myself perfect, and I am still far off from that target.
Sometimes a person is very nice and interesting to talk to, very kind in his manners, very amicable by nature but later on a selfish tinge appears on them. I mean we all are selfish, but in varying degrees, and there is a threshold of selfishness, which if crossed, makes selfishness very apparent and annoying at times. Someone I met recently appeared to be very meticulous, very dedicated towards his work and very hardworking. He is also very honest and frank person. I had begun to respect this person a lot. But lately I have noticed an ‘I know all’ attitude in this person. A mix of arrogance and ignorance which is seldom obscured by his friendly demeanour.
Such instances suddenly bring to fore the reality that nobody’s perfect, and that too in a very ‘in your face’, vehement way. What matters more is then to live with that reality. Hence rather than the ability to gauge and recognize people, which itself is a very important skill, more important is the ability to accept people as they are and be more understanding and compassionate.

The Rains...

It rained in Nairobi after long long time. The weather was growing hotter by the day (southern hemisphere!!). The earth was scorched, the rivers drying up. It is a famine situation in some parts of Kenya. And the rains were a welcome change.
But for me personally it was an especially welcome event. I have always found rains inspiring. My creativity peaks in monsoons. Just the sight of pouring rains, green treetops, puddles of water and little streams of water brings images from worlds I have never visited. The entire emotional spectrum is wide open. From love to lust, from excitement to ecstasy, from sorrow to nostalgia and many more feelings stir the depths of the heart. The words flow from paper to pen like a raging river. Poetry comes from deep within and naturally. I love rains.

The pouring rains from heaven above,
And cold winds, the smell of earth,
The touch of a fairy tale from faraway,
The treasure chest of joy and mirth.

Visitor Count

Just put a visitor count on my blog. Wanted to see how many people endure my writing. :)

A Fine Balance...

For quite some time I have been thinking of this and that. Mostly being the direction my life is taking. Sometimes I ask myself am I doing what I like to do? Well I don't really know if we are 'born' todo something or be someone, like born to be a writer or a singer or an actor. Maybe. But one thing is for sure that there is somethig that we 'like' to do, or maybe even 'love' to do. Now if that thing, that activity becomes your occupation then offcourse there is no greater delight. But if you are doing something else for a living and maintaining a hobby then it becomes a fine question of balance. How do you managae the balance between work and hobby? How do you know you are doing justice to both?

Events that made news...

So many things happened in past few days and each of the incident had an impact on lives of multitude of people in varying degrees. The world commemorated anniversaries of two very important events which had far reaching effects across the globe.

First was the eighth anniversary of the September 11 terror attacks on American soil, widely known as THE 9/11. The act itself was unimaginable to many people, American or otherwise. The twin towers of World Trade Centre demolished by the pack of cards by terrorists using planes instead of missiles. Many lives were lost, and many more connected to those were shattered. The aftermath was bloodier. US Government decided to go behind the perpetartors with full strenght. I still don't know whether it was a right or wrong decision, but maybe after the December 25 attacks on Mumbai last year and seeing the anger seething in the general public, I am inclined to think it was the right thing to do. The whole saga changed the course of events and the politics of the world.

Second event to mark its anniversary, that too the first anniversary was the collapse of Lehmann Brothers, considered by many as the event that triggered global recession. This too had far reachning impact on large number of lives. Jobs were lost, families broke up, suicides were committed. Somewhere, something had gone wrong. The direction the world was going came up for rethinking. The excesses of the capitalist consumer economy were laid bare. Maybe lessons learned from this event help define the way ahead.

Third event I wish to write about is closer to home. It was the discovery of the missing mobile phone of Aarushi Talwar, the 14 year old murder victim who was brutally murdered in her parents' Noida residence in May 2008. More than an year passed among shoddy investigations, accusations, allegations and media hype without the killer being brought to hook. It was already unfortunate enough for the young life to end so abruptly and so brutally, and then it was sad to see her name come up so frequently in Media with different and sometimes downright disgusting theories. May her soul rest in piece. Will Indian justice system ever be able to punish the perpetrators of this heinous crime?

Just Another Post..

Its been a long time since I have posted here. I have been a little busy lately. And then I have been posting on another site called Cold Coffee which is essentially a writer's community. The response I got there was overwhelming and hence most of my recent work was posted there. For past couple of weeks though there has been certain disagreements in the site admin staff and many of those on staff who had become my good friends left the site and started a new one of their own. I have followed my friends there and would be posting my creative work there on the site called The Poet's Parlor. nyways I do not intend to stop posting here and that is the primary reason of this post. Though I had nothing better to write about. Nowadays sometimes I even feel lazy to write, often distracted by other temptations like television of hanging out with friends. But even when I am not doing anything sometimes I am just too lazy to write. So this post is also essentially a step of breaking that lethagy.

New Beginings

The rain has stopped now,

The sky is clearing,

The rainbow can be seen from the roof.

The Sun has come out now,

The breeze is blowing,

Caressing the grass trampled by the rain.

The raindrops left behind,

Have turned into diamonds,

Glistening in the bright warm sunlight.

The worst is over now,

The storm has passed away,

The new beginings beckon us with open arms.

Girraffe.....

Friend ...Poem

Mute, I call out to you,

I know it would not reach your ears,

I remember our friendship,

With smile not with tears.

We used to be best buddies,

Shared secrets with each other,

Now we share this vaccum,

A big chasm 'tween us to smother.

Did just land below our feet,

Tear apart and drift away?

Or was it the guilt that we kept,

Putting away to another day?

I extend my hand but not quite,

To reach out to you but despite,

I touch an abyss unfathomed,

Lost am I, I am, I am.

Diary Entry

Diary Entry: 16th May 2009, 5:30 PM Nairobi Time

Mumbai Indians lost again and with this the hopes to get into the semi final extinguished. Feeling very very bad about it. I was rooting for Mumbai Indians. Don't know why Sachin gave the ball to DK again after he was badly hit. Dumminey's 2 overs were unused. He never got Sanath Jayasurya to bowl. Team seemed so much together and in it at the start. But as soon as things started to go out of the hand the spirit vanished and they all slacked. Alas! have to wait for one more year before any hopes of seeing Mumbai Indians in the IPL semi final, trophy is still a long way away.

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The following poem is an attempt to express the anguish after Mumbai Indians lost the vital match against Rajasthan Royals in IPL Season 2 on 14th May 2009.

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They came and fought hard,

Especially the skipper played like a king,

They played their every card,

But somehow they lacked the zing.

They lost they won, they lost they won,

And finally they lost it when they had almost won.

Everyone's heart skipped a beat,

Everyone had caught their breath.

Thousand prayers being hurled towards heaven,

From both the camps unsure, uncertain.

It was no doubt a mighty show,

But in the end someone's gotta go.

My heart breaks every time I remember,

The defeat that was'nt a surrender.

Yes they fought till the end I would say,

But alas! in vain, they lost the day.

The bowlers got hit then hit back straight,

But unfortunately they hit too late.

The batting order did'nt fire in the start,

The openers failed to do their part.

Well the captain fought back bravely,

But one ball from the rival deceived him gravely.

He had done all he could,

But when he got out it was not too good.

Hopes rose again as the young gun fired,

And came crashing down as luck conspired.

A needless risk spelled the doom,

And the other young hitter could never bloom.

The next few wickets fell like a pack of cards,

And the victory dream was torn in shards.

No credit taken from the rivals well played,

Despite some mistakes the team made.

All said and done hope for a better morrow,

Win in the next can ease the sorrow. 

Friend...

Chand looked at the passing cars through the iron strips of the railway fence. He was waiting for more than an hour now. Every couple of minutes a train would pass by deafening him with the thud-thud on the tracks. Not that he was not used to it. He heard it more often than he could hear his own heart beating. His friend was late today. He could’nt know why. He did’nt even know her name. He could hardly call her his friend. They had never talked. Their worlds were so different, so separate and distant. But since the time she had entered his monotonous life he looked forward to Saturdays and endured all the suffering life would serve him during the week for this one day, for this one moment.

Chand was born in a ghetto situated adjacent to a suburban railway line in Mumbai. His life had been a struggle for survival from the moment he drew his first breath. His mother was a construction worker, his father used to be one before he fell from a scaffolding three storeys high.  There were four kids elder to him which meant more competetion at the dinner table. Hunger was his consistent companion from day one. There was never enough for the entire family. Hence the kids were often left to their own means. They begged and sometimes stole to stay alive. Sometimes  Chand assisted at the tea stall near the railway station taking orders and cleaning glasses and plates for the whole day in return for a piece of bread and half a cup of tea. Life was harsh for this nine year old.

It was on a Saturday eight weeks past that he had first seen her as she stepped down from her car.  She was like a fairy, and angel, though he knew almost nothing about fairies or angels he thought she might be one. She was about his own age. She had smooth balck hair, flawless fair skin and a radiant smile. She wore a clean light pink frilled frock which must have cost more than the money he had ever seen in his entire life till now. She had come to the temple near the railway line with an old man, probably her grandfather. Mesmerised, he kept looking at her as shelet her grandfather’s hand go and ran up the steps of the temple till she dissappeared beyond the temple entrance. Something in her entranced him. She was everything he was not. She was exactly opposite of him, an antonym of his existance. He longed to see her, that was closest he could get to the life she lived. A life where there was no pain, no fear, no uncertainty about having the next meal. And after some time she came out of the temple holding her grandfather’s hand. She had an apple in her arm, the prasadam from the temple.

When they reached the bottom of the steps her gaze wandered up to him, their eyes met, almost. He was now more intently looking at the apple, having missed his morning meal as the tea stall was closed that day. Somehow she read his mind. She spoke something to her grandfather and he nooded and let her hand go. She ran upto the railway fence where he stood and held out her hand with the apple through the gaps in the iron strips of the fence. He took the apple hesitantly, never before had anyone given him anything without begging. She smiled a shy smile and ran to her grandfather. Next moment she had gotten in her car and driven away.

From that day he waited there everyday for a week and was about to give up hope of seeing her again when on the next Saturday he saw her car park near the temple. As she got down from the car her gaze automatically travelled to the fence and she smiled. He thought she remembered him and maybe waited to see him again. As a poor kid he never really had any friend. All that happened in his neighbourhood were partnerships for joint struggle to survive. That’s why he took her to be his friend, if anyone could call that friendship. But as he had expected she came up to him and gave him the fruit, today it was banana, after she came back from the temple before driving away in her car. From that day he went there every Saturday at the same time.  Every Saturday she visited the temple with her grandfather and every Saturday she gave him her fruit, apple, bananas, guava, oranges, whatever it was. She never spoke to him, just gave him the fruit and ran back to her car.

Hours went by as he waited for the entire day but she did not turn up. It was late in the night when his sixteen year old elder brother dragged him home, if the small bamboo hut could be called home. He could not sleep that night, nor could he stop his tears the whole night. He weeped silently. His only friend had abandoned him. Happiness could not be long lived in the life he lived. He cursed his wretched existence. He so wished to be someone else. he wished he was that girl,  going around in a car, having nice clothes to wear, good food to eat. Or maybe he could have been one of her friends, real friends. One from her section of the society, who knew her name, whom she talked to, not just gave fruits out of sympathy.

On the next Saturday he walked back to the fence near the temple. He did not half expect his friend to be back. But maybe she was sick. Maybe she would come today. Maybe she even would ask her how he was since she had not been able to give him fruit last Saturday. Maybe her grandfather would walk upto him, stroke his head and say a few kind words to him. Maybe she would never come.

Suddenly his heart leapt as he saw her car approaching. The car parked at the usual spot but for long time no one got down. He began to wonder what it might be when the car door opened and the grandfather stepped out. His friend was not there. He fealt his tears on his cheeks but suddenly realized with disbelief that the grandfather, instead of going into the temple was walking towards him. The old man came near him and knelt down.

“Do you remember the girl who used to come with me and give you fruits?” the old man asked.

Chand just nodded his head, he was not used to being spoken to by wealthy people . He could not understand what was happening. He just wanted to run away from there. May be the old man will now tell him not to come there anymore so that he could bring his granddaughter here again without a filthy slum dweller like him being around.

“Well,” The old man continued, and now Chand noticed tears in the old man’s eyes, “she was going in a car with her parents and met with an accident.  She died in the hospital after struggling for two days. “

The whole world seemed to crumple before Chand’s eyes, he thought he was about to pass out.

“She wanted you to have this.” The grandfather was holding out a small stuffed rabbit about his palm’s size, “it was her favorite toy”

Chand took the rabbit in trembling hands, his vision blurred by tears. The grandfather put his hands through the spaces in the iron fence, pulled Chand closer and hugged him tightly pressing his face against the fence. Chand closed his eyes tightly. The deafening roar of the train passing behind could not silence the banshee wailing within him.

Chameleon on the Wall...

Do you feel the pain really, 

Or are they just the crocodile’s tears?

Do you revel in my glory,

Or are they just the empty cheers?

I catch you sometimes looking at me, 

But when our eyes meet you look away. 

I hear every word you utter, 

But cannot really believe what you say.  

Sometimes you are sugar sweet, 

Sometimes you just drift away. 

When I think you are gone forever, 

You come back as a bright new day.  

When I reach for your hand, 

Sometimes its just not there for me, 

And then in my angst-ridden moments, 

You bring gifts of mirth and glee.  

I wonder whether you are here to stay, 

Or whether you are here at all. 

Are you really what I feel, 

Or are you just a chameleon on the wall.

Long Lost Love

Is the love lost,
Better than love that never was,
The pain found in broken heart,
Dearer than an empty past.

Is the hand once held,
Though still clutched tightly,
Long ago was it let go,
Leaving a faint sliver of memory.

Why does the heart yearn for ache?
Why does it wish 'twas gloomy?
Than being content with the knowledge,
That 'twas spared the agony.

Still I don't know what 'twas 'tween us,
Searching for the meaning of the tune we sang together,
What you meant to me when you were there,
And what it means now that you are gone forever.

A Missed Chance (Short Story)

“When was the last time you saw a girl naked,” she teased me. It made me realize that I was staring at her.  I did not wish to accept that I had never had sex before.
“Not long ago, but none as beautiful as you.”  I don’t know how, sometimes I blurted out the right things to
 say, without even thinking. She smiled and pulled me closer.
Half an hour later we lay in my bed. Spent and covered in sweat. She rested her head on my chest and
drew circles around my navel with her fingers. Her silken hair caressed my shoulder.
“That was your first time, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I admitted.
“It was wonderful though.”
“I liked it too, you are amazing.”
“Do you think I would get pregnant?” She asked.
“I hope so.”
“What?” She looked at me with questioning eyes, not sure she had heard me right.
“Yeah, then we can marry sooner.”
“Why do you want to marry me?” She asked. Her eyes teasing me.
“So that you would do my laundry.”
“Hey!” She punched me in the chest. “The world has changed mister, it¹s the guys¹ turn to do the laundry;
 and dishes too.”
We both laughed.
“Oh! Yeah? I don¹t mind doing both, for sex in return” I winked. We laughed more and kissed.

She didn¹t get pregnant. Her family moved out a week later. Her dad was in a government job and they kept moving around the country. They had moved in next door just a little more than a couple of years ago. It had taken me almost two years to open up my heart to her, though I liked her from the moment I set my eyes on her. Our relationship had taken off only about a month back when it was time for her to move. She wanted to lose her virginity to me, as a parting gift. Maybe she also hoped to get pregnant so she could teach her dad a lesson (she hated moving around and adjusting to new environment every time).

We tried to keep in touch over the phone and mails afterwards. But there was so much else in life that it
became difficult to find time to catch up with each other. One day, she sent me her picture with her
new boyfriend. When I made to the college football team I sent her mine too, with the pretty blonde
cheerleader. The cheerleader affair didn¹t last long, but she married the boyfriend in the photo. I wondered whether I would have been in those wedding snaps had she became pregnant on that August Sunday afternoon.

She already had a four month old son when I finished law school. She had dropped out after her freshman year. Something I did’nt expect from a girl who topped every test in the class.  When I sent her my wedding snaps her son was already year and a half and she was pregnant again. Her second son survived only for two days. She went into depression after that.
 
I tried to comfort her during our daily phone conversations that lasted more than couple of hours during her divorce. Later she used to mail me the details of her sessions when she started going in for therapy. We discussed her progress and her psychologist. By the time my second daughter was born she was dating her psychologist. I flew two hundred miles to attend her wedding. She still looked as beautiful as on that August Sunday afternoon, though a bit tired.

 Her son came to stay with me for a week when he appeared for law school admission test.  When my
daughter went for a Peace Corps camp in Sudan, she assured me that my daughter would be safe. When my daughter married her fellow volunteer, she couldn¹t attend the wedding due to ill health. I knew she had never really got out of alcohol addiction she caught during her divorce. It was taking its toll now.

For next two years our contact was minimal. I nursed my wife as she battled against cancer. She was
battling cirrhosis. Her husband supported her during this period. They both attended the funeral when my
wife finally gave in to cancer. She looked older than her age I thought; maybe she was thinking the
same about me. Lines had appeared on our faces long back.

Today the memories flooded back in my mind as I stood and watched her coffin being lowered into the grave. Her face was calm and smiling. I felt tears on my cheeks as the priest blessed her soul. I still wonder how it would have been if she had got pregnant on that August Sunday afternoon.

Hate

The gory images on the screen flickered,

And left a burning trail in my heart,

Tearing apart dreams nurtured,

Of a beautiful world devoid of hate.

Why man is an enemy of man,

Kills and Butcher, How can

He abhor and not adore,

And not think even once before,

Murdering flesh and blood of his own kind,

Heading for doom, leaving nothing behind.

Restraints

Gagged and bound, voice muted,

Dissent supressed and doubts refuted,

Speech censored, measured and weighed,

Meaning checked, Implications stayed.

 

O!Liberty, thy spirit is lost,

In cultures and customs venerated,

Progress and at what cost?

Of freedom so ill fated.

 

Break free before the reigns get too tight,

Do not go without a fight.

Gags but no laughs (pun intended)...

I am no big fan of Ram Gopal Varma's movies, though I enjoyed watching his earlier movies like Shiva, Rangeela, Satya, Kaun and maybe even Pyaar Tune Kya Kiya. But the point here is not whether he is a good or bad as a film maker or whether his movies are any good. The point to be made here is that as a film maker he is an artist.

The whole issue about objections to the song in his forthcoming movie 'Rann' and alleged insult of the National Anthem appalls me. Have we not matured even a bit as a society after centuries of civilisation? I am as Indian as anyone can be and I am proud of it. I respect India, the National Flag and the National Anthem. But I refuse to put this concept of a nation, national flag and national anthem on a pedestal. After all India's true identity is it's people. Does saluting the flag and singing national anthem on the independence day and republic day make me a true Indian? And should I feel I have fulfilled my responsibilities as an Indian by that?

Firstly we must understand that art is not only meant for entertainment. The higher purpose of art is enlightenment. Art was used copiously during our freedom struggle by our leaders in form of folk music, street plays, etc. to kindle the spirit of enslaved masses. And sometimes art has to take heady and biting form to cut through the layers of apathy that engulf the cumulative social consciousness.

What Ram Gopal Varma attempts is such pungent concotion of art to make statement on the state of affairs as he sees them. Now it would be individual opinion to agree or disagree with him. Some may take liberty of attacking his stinging sarcasm with a rosy picture they see. And that, is perfectly alright as even an artist cannot be allowed to enforce personal opinion on anyone. But to take away his right of expression and denounce him for expressing views not supported by others is regressive, almost like heading back to era of kingdoms and emperors or maybe even beyond. 

It is also understood that some may not like his way or method of expressing his views. I personally do not like many of his movies and would not watch them for money. But that does not mean that he should not be making them. His way may be uncoventional but he has all the rights to make movies the way he likes. Its afterall in our hands whether to watch them or not. And if something offends someone then not watching it is the best option, definitely better than gagging art.

And insult is when someone mocks the National Anthem, twists its lyrics to demeaning and undignified effect. When someone uses the tune for no other end than only that of humour and hilarity, without any intentions whatsoever to provoke public thought process and initiate dialouge and rethinking of notions. Or when the lines are distorted and lewd, indecent or vulgar lyrics are added.

If art is not allowed to be free, to express disagreement and to confront the norms then there would be no progress. After all it requires fresh thoughts to pave a new way else it won't be new, will it?

Restlessness

Pacing up and down,

Going round and round,

Fidgeting, Fiddling, Fretting,

Mind restraining against its reins.

Concentration or day-dreaming?

Unable to sit at one place,

In body and in spirit, Lost,

The wide fields? The Forests? The Mountains?

Where? The living room.....

Trying to contain,

The restlessness within.

Walls of Prison

What we build around us,

Fences, boundaries, fortifications,

Or just walls of prison.

We wish, we want, we yearn,

We know but we never learn,

We stay imprisoned of our own will.

Our deepest passions, Our deepest desires,

Burried deep within, the depths unfathomed,

We put up a facade everyday.

Every breath is an effort,

A smile that hides the pain,

A failed disguise.

When O! When, Will we find courage,

To break free, To knock down,

The walls of prison.

Back on Blogger....

After long and fruitless efforts to recover my password for my previos blog Talking Silence I am back on blogger with part 2 of the blog....Talking Silence 2 to record my random but true thoughts from deep within..