Teaching myself...

What..i dont know...bt then teachings are necessary to calm the urging soul. the never satisfied soul. the incessantly craving soul. And yet teachings are necessary to teach that teachings themselves are redundant.


It was the day after the Purnima last night...Maa said it was shuklopokhsha...To describe the moon i will take the privilege of a few words. A slight bloating of the roundedness of shape, a few black marks getting more apparent on its surface..maybe because the moon with one day after the full moon was a trifle less brilliant.

That moon reminded me of my last fourteen months. There was no pain in that remembrance but surprise that i remembered so many incidents in life inside and outside of the soul. That my filtering mechanisms made me remember all of them with a kind of fondness made me feel good.

And then bhatta played Rim Jhim Gire Sawan....

Maa called and i ..the child replied.

Everytime she calls i have no answers to the question. A question which maa crops up for me ever so incessantly. And i know its a question i face but i hide from since i have no answers to suitably reply it with.

When do i get back home? What home? i sometimes wonder. Maybe the lap of maa is my only home in whichever part of the world.

The week has been terrible. But then life at large is terrible too isnt it hahahahah:)

The work content is going down gutters.
Trying for jobs i feel so un-enthused about life because i believe that everything else is as much a hypocrisy as the one i am currently doing. How do i show a greater interest to embroil myself in this network of hypocrisy.
And then the hope to pursue knowledge has started dimming the first of rejections has started flowing in. From Purdue that too a university which i thought should be convertible.


That is the uncertainty of life. That again is the proof of my thoughts and intuitions falling short of the Force at Large's intuitions and thoughts. how foolish am not i that i despite all the disprovings still think that i think in the right direction?

Thus i end. Contradicting myself..for as whitman so rightly says 'i am large and i contain multitudes'...

I must teach myself to know the futility of teaching.
Love to know the futility of loving.
Write to know the uselessness of words
Cry to realise the mistiming of tears
Smile to ponder later about their non-necessities.
And yet continue to teach myself.


I am i think my own teacher, maa says rightly and my own student too.

Maa u r great.

`thechild

I Sit and i Look out....

last evening i was taking a night stroll. outside saw a beggar women being shoved out from the road for it was obstructing cars n posh passerbys of the area where i live in. i wanted to bring her to home and give her a night's shelter. i could not do anything for her. the pain in me a result of all my society's enchaining was excruciating. under normal circumstances i come back n write. bt writing that pt of time seemed like an escape route. in a nutshell i could do nothing. this walt whitman poem was all that shared my feelings.




I Sit And Look Out- by Walt Whitman.


I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband--I see the treacherous seducer
of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
hid--I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny--I see martyrs and
prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea--I observe the sailors casting lots who
shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these--All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look
out upon,
See, hear, and am silent.

God bless all clowns.....

God bless all clowns
Who star in the world with laughter
Who ring the rafters with flying jest
Who make the world spin merry on its way
And somehow add more beauty to each day.

God bless all clowns
So poor the world would be
Lacking their piquant touch, hilarity,
The belly laughs, the ringing lovely mirth
That makes a friendly place of this earth.

God bless all clowns -
Give them a long good life.
Make bright their way - they're a race apart!
Alchemists most, who turn their heart's pain
Into a dazzling jest to lift the heart.
God bless all clowns.