Have opened my doors of life again. To people and women. Trying to get back to myself, the one of yore, who feared not to get weak, or shed a tear or two.
Will the arms of hope surround me?
Will time be a fairweather friend?
Should I call out to angels,
Or just drink myself sober again?
I can't hide, it's true.
Bricks however are all that remain. The soft mud the clay has dissappeared...and i am still looking for you. Many a times i feel like leaving it all, shedding it all, and giving you a ring. Apologise, apologise and apologise and apologise more if any actions of mine hurt you. To say to you, that i will be with you, unconditionally, you give me nothing and still you will find me there around you.
I would have done it, you know what, if you are reading this piece. But i cant. I just dont want to create any ruffles in your life. Just get easy, drive at a constant pace down the highway, no acceleration, no decceleration, you deserve it for your years of stolid showing, glancing past dishonest men, and praying that perhaps landing with a honest one in the end as a husband.
The speed of love is blinding,
And I didn't know how to hold on.
My mind won't clear.
I'm out of tears.
My heart's got no room left inside.
Are you reading this Mimosa? Just dont know and so easy isnt it. I hope you do since you do know my address of this blog. However i do know you are forgetful enough to have erased it from your memory. To have completely removed me from your life when you took the flight or train out of mumbai to your now new city. The city which you often told me gave you your love, the city where you are completely at peace. May you find loads of that dearest....
For me, well my days of leaving this place are dawning. About 29 days more to go, yday i also got my train booked. Travelling back to cal, on a train should be good. When was the last time i did a long journey on Indian railways. I infact also have thought about listening to select tracks as the trains poo-poos its way outside of Mumbai.
The city, which gave me a lot. A lot indeed. So what some of it was painful and resulted in a learning in the end. So what i shall leave having unmasked people's faces, in the process of loosing some good close ones whom i had thought to be close to me. They never were, now they never will be.
Mumbai is casting its parting cover on me and the feel of it is warm and soggy, i am getting drenched a time should come when i can shed a tear or two perhaps as well.
I have started looking for you, or shoud i say your shades again. But thats life, neither could you stop, or stopped, neither can i, i wont. Have just a few questions to end this one with...
How many dreams will end?
How long can I pretend?
How many times will love pass me by,
Until I find you again?
And let me say, to you...I pray you read this...
I still burn for you.
Your memory just won't let me go.
I'd hold you tighter,
Closer than ever before.
No flame would burn brighter,
If I could touch you once more,
Hold you once more!
Lately I've been trying to fill up my days since you're gone....will you pray for me that i do get somebody...
Friday, May 06, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Syrian and Serene - Mariam....
Dressed in blue checks, voice sombre wearing a gold dial watch, she came..
saying that she was a syrian christian, but i found her serene indeed..
closed though to her inner feelings..
she reads thriller and killer books
talks little listens more, judges and evaluates, a person
to her today i would dedicate these few lines too....
written hurriedly, but in no way just to fill up space
but to give her deserved space in my world.
For Mariam a poem.
Intensity,
Dean Koontz
Hope is the destination that we seek.
Love is the road that leads to hope.
Courage is the motor that drives us.
We travel out of darkness into faith.
saying that she was a syrian christian, but i found her serene indeed..
closed though to her inner feelings..
she reads thriller and killer books
talks little listens more, judges and evaluates, a person
to her today i would dedicate these few lines too....
written hurriedly, but in no way just to fill up space
but to give her deserved space in my world.
For Mariam a poem.
Intensity,
Dean Koontz
Hope is the destination that we seek.
Love is the road that leads to hope.
Courage is the motor that drives us.
We travel out of darkness into faith.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
on the Old Mumbai Trail and Malwani Fish...n prayers for Gayatri
Gayatri completed her masters in '89. She is a Maharashtrian. Avid Mumbaikar. Today she took me on an old mumbai trail. I just loved the choice of malvani food she opened me up to.
Surmai and mandivili. Bombil and kokam juice. For just Rs 120 we ate sumptuously.
Gayatri is forgetful on the road. She could easily be trashed in by a car. She had a brain surgery some years back. About the same time when her brother and sister now living in Americas, got her broadband connection at home.
Much like me, she used the net to download a host of music, to my delight too, a lot of hindustani classical music. Those are her constant companions. She says, she used to frequent concerts with siblings around. Now, just once in a while, you need good company, to go more frequently dont you. I agree you do.
She buys some authentic Maharashtrian sweets too. She says these are stuff you would find in a Brahmin's house in this part of the country. Maharashtrian brahmins. We come back. Me absolutely doting on the fish and her delightful company. And the fact that i had lost my wallet and she very graciously offering me to treat me to the luncheon.
Gayatri stays in the old part of mumbai. She says her building might be brought down. They might have to shift - they - she and her parents. Her forehead is blank. Knowing her, i know it should not have been. I can see the now dissappeared sindur.
We didnt broach on that subject. Further on. Except a short sentence by her somewhere. Saying that, it happens in life, when u give it your all trying to understand a person, and then feel tired and have nothing more to give ..I nod. I have smelled that giving bit. Maybe not in entirety. But still smelled it for sure.
However, Gayatri is very peculiarly unemotional. She talks of lovely things of life with a nonchalance that i cannot understand. I know though there was a passionate she that is far tucked away in history. The history which saw her perhaps giving her love to somebody. History which saw her getting in an admission in the same school as me, albeit in a different programme. Didnt she need it more than me! I wonder. How blessed i am that i can walk on and she could not. Her surgery might be same as my walks...making me forget my memories.
Gayatri is my colleague at ET. Her memories with her brain surgery might have faded into the darkness of the human mind. Their artifacts still strewn here and there, surface as her emotional nonchalance.
Today she took me on the old Mumbai trail. In understated fish eateries, i am told she loves eating and making people eat new kinds of dishes. She loves Mumbai.
And i..i just bow to her today...for her spirit of existence. The child's bow -- to the Lady on the Mumbai Trail.....
I am nobody to judge/decide but i pray that god, the unknown force, gives her peace and joy, as much as she gave me ....today.
Surmai and mandivili. Bombil and kokam juice. For just Rs 120 we ate sumptuously.
Gayatri is forgetful on the road. She could easily be trashed in by a car. She had a brain surgery some years back. About the same time when her brother and sister now living in Americas, got her broadband connection at home.
Much like me, she used the net to download a host of music, to my delight too, a lot of hindustani classical music. Those are her constant companions. She says, she used to frequent concerts with siblings around. Now, just once in a while, you need good company, to go more frequently dont you. I agree you do.
She buys some authentic Maharashtrian sweets too. She says these are stuff you would find in a Brahmin's house in this part of the country. Maharashtrian brahmins. We come back. Me absolutely doting on the fish and her delightful company. And the fact that i had lost my wallet and she very graciously offering me to treat me to the luncheon.
Gayatri stays in the old part of mumbai. She says her building might be brought down. They might have to shift - they - she and her parents. Her forehead is blank. Knowing her, i know it should not have been. I can see the now dissappeared sindur.
We didnt broach on that subject. Further on. Except a short sentence by her somewhere. Saying that, it happens in life, when u give it your all trying to understand a person, and then feel tired and have nothing more to give ..I nod. I have smelled that giving bit. Maybe not in entirety. But still smelled it for sure.
However, Gayatri is very peculiarly unemotional. She talks of lovely things of life with a nonchalance that i cannot understand. I know though there was a passionate she that is far tucked away in history. The history which saw her perhaps giving her love to somebody. History which saw her getting in an admission in the same school as me, albeit in a different programme. Didnt she need it more than me! I wonder. How blessed i am that i can walk on and she could not. Her surgery might be same as my walks...making me forget my memories.
Gayatri is my colleague at ET. Her memories with her brain surgery might have faded into the darkness of the human mind. Their artifacts still strewn here and there, surface as her emotional nonchalance.
Today she took me on the old Mumbai trail. In understated fish eateries, i am told she loves eating and making people eat new kinds of dishes. She loves Mumbai.
And i..i just bow to her today...for her spirit of existence. The child's bow -- to the Lady on the Mumbai Trail.....
I am nobody to judge/decide but i pray that god, the unknown force, gives her peace and joy, as much as she gave me ....today.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Everybody Knows...
oshadharon..awesome!!
Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen.
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows
Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen.
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
The advent of a Television.
Consider yourself part of a family. Which occupies roughly 10-12 hours of your day each day in the year. Which makes up for a huge part of your associations around the life that you lead. Which gives the requisite branding for finding the ideal bride in life!
Such is the family of my workplace - ETIG -- let me not enunciate what the acronym stand for but come straight to the three worder - which perhaps sums up its ethos - that of 'trends analysis and foresight'.
I am nobody to take a call on what trends my workplace catches for the newspaper for which it is the research house. I am nobody also to comment on the robustness or newness of the analysis that ETIG does and neither am i anybody to comment on the foresight of people who make up ETIG - in colloquial english - my colleagues who come and go and some of them have parked themselves here - it seems for an eternity.
ETIG does offer some lovely safety and security in this big bad world.
But today i am writing not about anything else but the Advent of a Television. That in ETIG's quarters.
My previous mates who have all now left used to debate that perhaps we should have a TV around us. Like say other sections within the newspaper has. They were more boisterous, a more lively gang of people, ready to take on life in its spirit. Perhaps they never needed a TV to pep themselves up.
So hypothesis and analysis no 1. Kudos to the management for understanding the fibre of people and getting the TV at the right time.
Beyond that a TV also might have future ramifications. My current roommate who works with one of the world's foremost banks, says they too have a TV. The job of that box, idiot or otherwise i am staying silent on, is to entertain them with business news, and snippets of things (read cricket in India) happening around the world, live, deferred live, or scheduled to happen in future.
So in effect a TV is meant for them to forget the fact that their job means data entry which sometimes bugs them on a sunday, but never can, in the presence of the TV during weekdays. After all they might have a Tendulkar sixer to entertain them as their fingers constantly work on the keyboard to enter a huge array of numbers.
Hypothesis No 2 - Hence perhaps ETIG is moving to that domain, of being a bank's research house kind of an entity, maintaining huge loads of data. I dont know if i am fit for this kind of a movement, working in that kind of a setting. All that i can say is that for life i shall be scary of excel sheets. And perhaps hence, thank god, the TV comes, ETIG moves to that direction, and i move on with life too.
Finally, a TV also means the prestige of the section getting some sort of an elevation. Perhaps my mates, previous ones, no one around these days, would have loved this kind of an elevation, which i am not sure if it is more real or more comic, or more just for showing's sake. Whatever, good for ETIG the place to which i have developed some kind of an emotional bonding.
Now this writing is getting drab i know, and i must move on beyond hypotheses.
Here i dont have anything to say. Much. The only known addiction to a TV is the one i remember having with my sister long time back. When i was in school perhaps, we two used to crounge together in front of the box at around 10 in the night -- much to the consternation of my parents. And there the favourite series of ours used to come - 'The Truth Lies Out There' -- X Files...
Does the Truth lie out there, or in the TV set which glued us in during those formative ages?
Is there any truth at large in this world?
What is truth, is there a personal truth or an universal truth?
How is veracity/falseity different from similar to reality/perception?
That is what the advent of the Television brings me an end to. Questions for life perhaps. To which there is, i know, no definite, no obvious answer....
Amen..
`thechild.
Such is the family of my workplace - ETIG -- let me not enunciate what the acronym stand for but come straight to the three worder - which perhaps sums up its ethos - that of 'trends analysis and foresight'.
I am nobody to take a call on what trends my workplace catches for the newspaper for which it is the research house. I am nobody also to comment on the robustness or newness of the analysis that ETIG does and neither am i anybody to comment on the foresight of people who make up ETIG - in colloquial english - my colleagues who come and go and some of them have parked themselves here - it seems for an eternity.
ETIG does offer some lovely safety and security in this big bad world.
But today i am writing not about anything else but the Advent of a Television. That in ETIG's quarters.
My previous mates who have all now left used to debate that perhaps we should have a TV around us. Like say other sections within the newspaper has. They were more boisterous, a more lively gang of people, ready to take on life in its spirit. Perhaps they never needed a TV to pep themselves up.
So hypothesis and analysis no 1. Kudos to the management for understanding the fibre of people and getting the TV at the right time.
Beyond that a TV also might have future ramifications. My current roommate who works with one of the world's foremost banks, says they too have a TV. The job of that box, idiot or otherwise i am staying silent on, is to entertain them with business news, and snippets of things (read cricket in India) happening around the world, live, deferred live, or scheduled to happen in future.
So in effect a TV is meant for them to forget the fact that their job means data entry which sometimes bugs them on a sunday, but never can, in the presence of the TV during weekdays. After all they might have a Tendulkar sixer to entertain them as their fingers constantly work on the keyboard to enter a huge array of numbers.
Hypothesis No 2 - Hence perhaps ETIG is moving to that domain, of being a bank's research house kind of an entity, maintaining huge loads of data. I dont know if i am fit for this kind of a movement, working in that kind of a setting. All that i can say is that for life i shall be scary of excel sheets. And perhaps hence, thank god, the TV comes, ETIG moves to that direction, and i move on with life too.
Finally, a TV also means the prestige of the section getting some sort of an elevation. Perhaps my mates, previous ones, no one around these days, would have loved this kind of an elevation, which i am not sure if it is more real or more comic, or more just for showing's sake. Whatever, good for ETIG the place to which i have developed some kind of an emotional bonding.
Now this writing is getting drab i know, and i must move on beyond hypotheses.
Here i dont have anything to say. Much. The only known addiction to a TV is the one i remember having with my sister long time back. When i was in school perhaps, we two used to crounge together in front of the box at around 10 in the night -- much to the consternation of my parents. And there the favourite series of ours used to come - 'The Truth Lies Out There' -- X Files...
Does the Truth lie out there, or in the TV set which glued us in during those formative ages?
Is there any truth at large in this world?
What is truth, is there a personal truth or an universal truth?
How is veracity/falseity different from similar to reality/perception?
That is what the advent of the Television brings me an end to. Questions for life perhaps. To which there is, i know, no definite, no obvious answer....
Amen..
`thechild.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Resignation Letter.
My resignation from my first self-chosen assignment in this world. Beyond many such perhaps which shall come in years - here i upload it for future reference's sake.
To
Mr Ajay Jindal
Head, ET Intelligence Group,
The Economic Times,
The Times of India Group
Dated: 1st of April 2005.
Subject: Resignation as on 1st of April 2005.
Dear Sir,
I wish to submit my resignation from my current job as the deputy manager, at the ET Intelligence Group of The Economic Times.
My experience with ETIG, The Economic Times and The Times of India Group has been one of learning and valuable exposures. I am sure they will stand me in great stead for my future endeavors. I am thankful to you for all of that opportunity given to be a part of the legacy of this organisation.
Since I wish to pursue my higher studies starting from end of August 2005 I would request you to kindly grant me a shorter notice period of 2 months – than the stipulated 3 months as specified on my contract. I would hence like to terminate my services here starting from 1st of June, 2005.
I believe that within that period I shall also be able to delegate my responsibilities and ongoing projects to the able hand of my colleagues.
Expecting your cooperation, and thanking you for your kind attention.
With Warm Regards,
Chirantan Chatterjee
Deputy Manager, ETIG, The Economic Times,
Employee ID – 6728
Payroll ID – 00012686.
Joining Date in the Organisation: June’02 2003.
Copy to:
a. Mr Rajrishi Singhal, The Economic Times
b. Mr Arun Anant, The Economic Times.
To
Mr Ajay Jindal
Head, ET Intelligence Group,
The Economic Times,
The Times of India Group
Dated: 1st of April 2005.
Subject: Resignation as on 1st of April 2005.
Dear Sir,
I wish to submit my resignation from my current job as the deputy manager, at the ET Intelligence Group of The Economic Times.
My experience with ETIG, The Economic Times and The Times of India Group has been one of learning and valuable exposures. I am sure they will stand me in great stead for my future endeavors. I am thankful to you for all of that opportunity given to be a part of the legacy of this organisation.
Since I wish to pursue my higher studies starting from end of August 2005 I would request you to kindly grant me a shorter notice period of 2 months – than the stipulated 3 months as specified on my contract. I would hence like to terminate my services here starting from 1st of June, 2005.
I believe that within that period I shall also be able to delegate my responsibilities and ongoing projects to the able hand of my colleagues.
Expecting your cooperation, and thanking you for your kind attention.
With Warm Regards,
Chirantan Chatterjee
Deputy Manager, ETIG, The Economic Times,
Employee ID – 6728
Payroll ID – 00012686.
Joining Date in the Organisation: June’02 2003.
Copy to:
a. Mr Rajrishi Singhal, The Economic Times
b. Mr Arun Anant, The Economic Times.
the Heart/Mind matrix on April 1st 2005.
It was June 2nd 2003 when i the dreamy kid joined my current job as a writer. A business writer, they say. A business researcher, some others. Analysts some others still. It has been one of love and longing that has lasted and shall always remain.
Came 1st of April 2005. And i resigned. A plain simple letter talking of me bidding goodbyye and thanking one and everybody for all the experience i had been given to be a part of.
I am still not out of Mumbai - first week of June i should be. But its interesting to note how the Force designed things for me. I never wanted it to happen this way. But the force wanted it perhaps. For all the foolery the world played around with this child fool, he had designed April 1st 2005.
31st May is my release date. 2nd of June i complete 2nd year here. Yes i had been a fool. Not in believing people, each one of them. But in being unabashed in believing people. I guess with a little bit of circumspection one can bring the best out of even the baddest of people. Thats not foolery, thats wisedom.
More than that, people do matter but only to a certain extent. More than that its always you with yourself. Your mind with your mind. Your mind against your heart. Your heart against your heart. And your heart against your mind. One could so easily design a 2/2 matrix to explain the situation.
and the cost, benefits in each of the cells too.
There is no particular reason why i write it today.
Am i kicked that i did it on April 1st. I think only a lil bit, that much, which really doesnt matter to me.
Am i kicked that i am moving on. For a doctoral life probably, the force/god willing, else for something else that i know not as of now. Maybe maybe not. But tis certainly does feel light! feathery arent those the touches that moves the maestros fingers on the piano....the pianist with his piano..thats the feeling with me now..
Am i kicked that i am sad and dreamy again of changing the world and its people! not really, i know in a lifetime, this child can never do that. ANd i know i will be left alone in a lifetime with myself trying still to do that. But that essentially is my life.
Fighting with a heart. Which says you can change the world. The mind boxing back saying you cant, think of you, yourself and how best you can serve yourself in the situation.
Can somebody help me in doing a cost benefit analysis to this heart-mind matrix! Circa 2005.
no poems, today dear. no music, dear. just plain old writing and your feathery fingers on the keyboard.
`amen-thechild.
Came 1st of April 2005. And i resigned. A plain simple letter talking of me bidding goodbyye and thanking one and everybody for all the experience i had been given to be a part of.
I am still not out of Mumbai - first week of June i should be. But its interesting to note how the Force designed things for me. I never wanted it to happen this way. But the force wanted it perhaps. For all the foolery the world played around with this child fool, he had designed April 1st 2005.
31st May is my release date. 2nd of June i complete 2nd year here. Yes i had been a fool. Not in believing people, each one of them. But in being unabashed in believing people. I guess with a little bit of circumspection one can bring the best out of even the baddest of people. Thats not foolery, thats wisedom.
More than that, people do matter but only to a certain extent. More than that its always you with yourself. Your mind with your mind. Your mind against your heart. Your heart against your heart. And your heart against your mind. One could so easily design a 2/2 matrix to explain the situation.
and the cost, benefits in each of the cells too.
There is no particular reason why i write it today.
Am i kicked that i did it on April 1st. I think only a lil bit, that much, which really doesnt matter to me.
Am i kicked that i am moving on. For a doctoral life probably, the force/god willing, else for something else that i know not as of now. Maybe maybe not. But tis certainly does feel light! feathery arent those the touches that moves the maestros fingers on the piano....the pianist with his piano..thats the feeling with me now..
Am i kicked that i am sad and dreamy again of changing the world and its people! not really, i know in a lifetime, this child can never do that. ANd i know i will be left alone in a lifetime with myself trying still to do that. But that essentially is my life.
Fighting with a heart. Which says you can change the world. The mind boxing back saying you cant, think of you, yourself and how best you can serve yourself in the situation.
Can somebody help me in doing a cost benefit analysis to this heart-mind matrix! Circa 2005.
no poems, today dear. no music, dear. just plain old writing and your feathery fingers on the keyboard.
`amen-thechild.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
There is Just One Word - One Action -- that i need now.
A rip van winkle sleep. To refresh me of my pasts, to forgive myself and others of doings wrong and right, to be ashamed of myself for my impurities of mind, thoughts, action, and make amends for it by starting again on a pure life. To start again, stooping, rising up, like the ragpicker to dream about life...not with the eyes of children, the people around, or elders..bt that of a sage in marvel and meditation of life.
I need to be love and cherish peace - foregoing violence.
I need to relax.
I need to go back to my college first years in roorkee and the me of myself then!
I need to DISCOVER MYSELF.
Yes its about time i wrote something. But before that heres to the Ragpicker's dreams...Mr Knopfler i bow before u.
`thechild.
---When Jack Frost came for Christmas
With a brass monkey date
The rail-king and the scarecrow
Hopped a Florida freight
And they blew on their paper cups
And stared through the steam
Then they drank half a bottle
Of Ragpicker's Dream where
The whiskey keeps following
Cold pitchers of beer
Me and my associate
Like the clientele here get
The onions and the 'taters
Rib-eyes on the grill
Toothpicks and luckies
And a coffee refill as
The rail-king lay rocking
He was leaving the ground
Then he was flying like Santa Claus
Over the town where
He came to the window
Of a house by a stream
It was a family Christmas
In the Ragpicker's Dream there
Were kids at the table
All aglow in the light
Music in the wintertime
Sure carries at night there
Was turkey and gravy
Pie and ice cream
And gifts for each and everyone
In the Ragpicker's Dream where
The red-eye keeps tumbling
In our glasses of beer
Me and my associate
Like the service in here there's
A ten for your trouble
You have beautiful hair
Make the last one two doubles
It's a cold one out there where
The scarecrow and the rail-king
Have started to dance
But a nightstick and a billyclub
Won't give peace a chance here
I think they went thataways
Your song and dance team
Heading home for the holidays
With the Ragpicker's Dream on
His knees like a fighter
The rail-riding king
Like a sack of potatoes
Like a bull in the ring where
The scarecrow falls over
With a tear in the seam
Home for the rover
In the Ragpicker's Dream where
The red-eye keeps tumbling
Like tears in our beer
Me and my associate
Like the ambience here where
They cornered two castaways
In a white flashlight beam
Merry Christmas and happy days
In the Ragpicker's Dream
I need to be love and cherish peace - foregoing violence.
I need to relax.
I need to go back to my college first years in roorkee and the me of myself then!
I need to DISCOVER MYSELF.
Yes its about time i wrote something. But before that heres to the Ragpicker's dreams...Mr Knopfler i bow before u.
`thechild.
---When Jack Frost came for Christmas
With a brass monkey date
The rail-king and the scarecrow
Hopped a Florida freight
And they blew on their paper cups
And stared through the steam
Then they drank half a bottle
Of Ragpicker's Dream where
The whiskey keeps following
Cold pitchers of beer
Me and my associate
Like the clientele here get
The onions and the 'taters
Rib-eyes on the grill
Toothpicks and luckies
And a coffee refill as
The rail-king lay rocking
He was leaving the ground
Then he was flying like Santa Claus
Over the town where
He came to the window
Of a house by a stream
It was a family Christmas
In the Ragpicker's Dream there
Were kids at the table
All aglow in the light
Music in the wintertime
Sure carries at night there
Was turkey and gravy
Pie and ice cream
And gifts for each and everyone
In the Ragpicker's Dream where
The red-eye keeps tumbling
In our glasses of beer
Me and my associate
Like the service in here there's
A ten for your trouble
You have beautiful hair
Make the last one two doubles
It's a cold one out there where
The scarecrow and the rail-king
Have started to dance
But a nightstick and a billyclub
Won't give peace a chance here
I think they went thataways
Your song and dance team
Heading home for the holidays
With the Ragpicker's Dream on
His knees like a fighter
The rail-riding king
Like a sack of potatoes
Like a bull in the ring where
The scarecrow falls over
With a tear in the seam
Home for the rover
In the Ragpicker's Dream where
The red-eye keeps tumbling
Like tears in our beer
Me and my associate
Like the ambience here where
They cornered two castaways
In a white flashlight beam
Merry Christmas and happy days
In the Ragpicker's Dream
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Moitrayee.
That is a name which has carved magic in my life. Three women i know have had the same name. Sometimes accidentally given. Sometimes actually and at other times given to women as the muse of my closest friends.
She did tell me once that her maa and baba had given her that name. Just hanging there in between a short and long name. Smelling of sweetness and intoxication. Just like her hair perhaps which went dishevelled after a rather hectic day. Moitrayee for her stood for a name which she had given up for a shorter -- not personally likeable version by me. What kind of a name was the next one i wondered replacing such a exquisitely carved out name for a girl child? I wondered then..i wonder still now.
And she...she i exchanged a glance long back and i dont know what struck. Maybe thats what they call eyes meeting eyes and luckily allowing no constraints of the world to come in between that meeting. We used to write and fight to each other and she used to talk about her loves gone by and me mine too, i just pray she is happy some day with the person she loves or would like loving. As for whether she will ever come back to me, talk to me, as i sit on the beaches on a dark night, singing a robindroshongeet. Well i dont expect..i shouldnt expect...for after all isnt that what the reader's digest epithet goes 'life is like that'.:)
Moitrayee -- Aaj Jyostna Raat e shobai geche bone..what a song by tagore, kobiguru in my mother tongue, robindranath tagore to the world...that was the song my friend's maa and bon were singing, she herself singing a Bihu song to make my closest of friend fall in love with her...that in a jungle of Assam on a fullmoon night. She has vanished and he has moved on in life, refuted by the woman she fell for completely in reality, and then accepted by the childhood friend of his...Yet he persists with the same password on his computer...Moitreyee..this time with an e...an E for the virtual love or perhaps the real love that one gives away while life takes its one carved out courses.
that is all that i can write now about the moitrayees i know in life now..may u all be happy and peaceful with ur lives wherever u r!
amen.
`thechild
She did tell me once that her maa and baba had given her that name. Just hanging there in between a short and long name. Smelling of sweetness and intoxication. Just like her hair perhaps which went dishevelled after a rather hectic day. Moitrayee for her stood for a name which she had given up for a shorter -- not personally likeable version by me. What kind of a name was the next one i wondered replacing such a exquisitely carved out name for a girl child? I wondered then..i wonder still now.
And she...she i exchanged a glance long back and i dont know what struck. Maybe thats what they call eyes meeting eyes and luckily allowing no constraints of the world to come in between that meeting. We used to write and fight to each other and she used to talk about her loves gone by and me mine too, i just pray she is happy some day with the person she loves or would like loving. As for whether she will ever come back to me, talk to me, as i sit on the beaches on a dark night, singing a robindroshongeet. Well i dont expect..i shouldnt expect...for after all isnt that what the reader's digest epithet goes 'life is like that'.:)
Moitrayee -- Aaj Jyostna Raat e shobai geche bone..what a song by tagore, kobiguru in my mother tongue, robindranath tagore to the world...that was the song my friend's maa and bon were singing, she herself singing a Bihu song to make my closest of friend fall in love with her...that in a jungle of Assam on a fullmoon night. She has vanished and he has moved on in life, refuted by the woman she fell for completely in reality, and then accepted by the childhood friend of his...Yet he persists with the same password on his computer...Moitreyee..this time with an e...an E for the virtual love or perhaps the real love that one gives away while life takes its one carved out courses.
that is all that i can write now about the moitrayees i know in life now..may u all be happy and peaceful with ur lives wherever u r!
amen.
`thechild
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Happy Birthday -- to the one -- I know -- as you walk.
Its crazy. That i still have forgiven you. And wish you had been around or that i could have sent you a birthday wish. Never mind...Happy Birthday dear, heres a poem to your name by Herman Hesse.
I know you Walk---
I walk so often, late, along the streets,
Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread,
Suddenly, silently, you still might rise
And I would have to gaze on all your grief
With my own eyes,
While you demand your happiness, that's dead.
I know, you walk beyond me, every night,
With a coy footfall, in a wretched dress
And walk for money, looking miserable!
Your shoes gather God knows what ugly mess,
The wind plays in your hair with lewd delight---
You walk, and walk, and find no home at all.
~Herman Hesse
I know you Walk---
I walk so often, late, along the streets,
Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread,
Suddenly, silently, you still might rise
And I would have to gaze on all your grief
With my own eyes,
While you demand your happiness, that's dead.
I know, you walk beyond me, every night,
With a coy footfall, in a wretched dress
And walk for money, looking miserable!
Your shoes gather God knows what ugly mess,
The wind plays in your hair with lewd delight---
You walk, and walk, and find no home at all.
~Herman Hesse
Saturday, March 12, 2005
the sky is indeed a hazy shade of winter !!!!
Time, time, time
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned
Carry your cup in your hand
And look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Hang onto your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life
Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
At any conveient time?
Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime
I look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned
Carry your cup in your hand
And look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Hang onto your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life
Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
At any conveient time?
Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime
I look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Friday, March 04, 2005
"Some moments for eternity"
When all that i have is cherished memories..here are a few jottings of situations from the past.
`thechild.
Her face looking up, spectacles on, as If at me in the photograph – I wish I had not torn and thrown it off.
Her bubbling n jumping down the stairs and coming and shelling across a sweet ‘hi’.
Like a bolt she coming and embracing me.
I sit at the sea shore and run my fingers through her hair – she’s just silent leaning on my shoulders – and making that soft whimpering sound a little baby makes just born.
She calling me paagla Shakespeare or me calling her mimosa pudica.
Waiting for the train in the station – she stands forlorn in the ocean of humanity – sees me, clasps her lips and gives that sweetest smile of a millennium.
Or she demanding to know ‘where am I’ when I am not around her.
I see her curled up hair – fight with her hands and she slowly budges in – we don’t finally melt though
Yep, she’s married, I pray she is happy, and I, still single, happy as well
`thechild.
Her face looking up, spectacles on, as If at me in the photograph – I wish I had not torn and thrown it off.
Her bubbling n jumping down the stairs and coming and shelling across a sweet ‘hi’.
Like a bolt she coming and embracing me.
I sit at the sea shore and run my fingers through her hair – she’s just silent leaning on my shoulders – and making that soft whimpering sound a little baby makes just born.
She calling me paagla Shakespeare or me calling her mimosa pudica.
Waiting for the train in the station – she stands forlorn in the ocean of humanity – sees me, clasps her lips and gives that sweetest smile of a millennium.
Or she demanding to know ‘where am I’ when I am not around her.
I see her curled up hair – fight with her hands and she slowly budges in – we don’t finally melt though
Yep, she’s married, I pray she is happy, and I, still single, happy as well
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
PC and Tiruvalluvar....
Our finance minister seems to be a keen follower of Saint Tiruvalluvar in his budget speeches. I am a keen follower of Pc. and Thus Saint Tiruvalluvar was the subject of my net research. here is the ancient poet on the Characteristics of a Good Wife.
The Good Wife
Verse 51
She is the helpful wife who possesses the fullness of
Household culture and spends within her husband's means.
Verse 52
The fullest family life remains empty
If the wife lacks the lofty culture of the home.
Verse 53
What does a man lack if his wife is worthy?
And what does he possess if she is lacking worth?
Verse 54
What is more majestic than a women
Who preserves the prodigious strength of chastity?
Verse 55
Even the rains will fall at her command
Who upon rising worships not God, but her husband.
Verse 56
A woman is one who vigilantly guards herself,
Cares for her husband and protects their unblemished reputation.
Verse 57
Why do guardians protect women by confinement?
Her own resolute chastity is a women's paramount protection.
Verse 58
A women deeply devoted to the man who wed her
Will be worthy of great rewards in the world where Gods delight
Verse 59
Unless the wife pursues praiseworthy purity,
The husband cannot prance like a proud lion before his critics.
Verse 60
A worthy wife is the blessing of a home,
And good children are its precious ornament.
The Good Wife
Verse 51
She is the helpful wife who possesses the fullness of
Household culture and spends within her husband's means.
Verse 52
The fullest family life remains empty
If the wife lacks the lofty culture of the home.
Verse 53
What does a man lack if his wife is worthy?
And what does he possess if she is lacking worth?
Verse 54
What is more majestic than a women
Who preserves the prodigious strength of chastity?
Verse 55
Even the rains will fall at her command
Who upon rising worships not God, but her husband.
Verse 56
A woman is one who vigilantly guards herself,
Cares for her husband and protects their unblemished reputation.
Verse 57
Why do guardians protect women by confinement?
Her own resolute chastity is a women's paramount protection.
Verse 58
A women deeply devoted to the man who wed her
Will be worthy of great rewards in the world where Gods delight
Verse 59
Unless the wife pursues praiseworthy purity,
The husband cannot prance like a proud lion before his critics.
Verse 60
A worthy wife is the blessing of a home,
And good children are its precious ornament.
Finance Minister's fascination with Saint Tiruvalluvar
In his budget speech endings led me to do some net research on the saint. This is what i got about the Saint writing on "The Good Wife"...well i dont know if all this is fair...bt for future reference let this be uploaded.
:)) laughing to myself...hahahahaha
The Good Wife
Verse 51
She is the helpful wife who possesses the fullness of
Household culture and spends within her husband's means.
Verse 52
The fullest family life remains empty
If the wife lacks the lofty culture of the home.
Verse 53
What does a man lack if his wife is worthy?
And what does he possess if she is lacking worth?
Verse 54
What is more majestic than a women
Who preserves the prodigious strength of chastity?
Verse 55
Even the rains will fall at her command
Who upon rising worships not God, but her husband.
Verse 56
A woman is one who vigilantly guards herself,
Cares for her husband and protects their unblemished reputation.
Verse 57
Why do guardians protect women by confinement?
Her own resolute chastity is a women's paramount protection.
Verse 58
A women deeply devoted to the man who wed her
Will be worthy of great rewards in the world where Gods delight
Verse 59
Unless the wife pursues praiseworthy purity,
The husband cannot prance like a proud lion before his critics.
Verse 60
A worthy wife is the blessing of a home,
And good children are its precious ornament.
:)) laughing to myself...hahahahaha
The Good Wife
Verse 51
She is the helpful wife who possesses the fullness of
Household culture and spends within her husband's means.
Verse 52
The fullest family life remains empty
If the wife lacks the lofty culture of the home.
Verse 53
What does a man lack if his wife is worthy?
And what does he possess if she is lacking worth?
Verse 54
What is more majestic than a women
Who preserves the prodigious strength of chastity?
Verse 55
Even the rains will fall at her command
Who upon rising worships not God, but her husband.
Verse 56
A woman is one who vigilantly guards herself,
Cares for her husband and protects their unblemished reputation.
Verse 57
Why do guardians protect women by confinement?
Her own resolute chastity is a women's paramount protection.
Verse 58
A women deeply devoted to the man who wed her
Will be worthy of great rewards in the world where Gods delight
Verse 59
Unless the wife pursues praiseworthy purity,
The husband cannot prance like a proud lion before his critics.
Verse 60
A worthy wife is the blessing of a home,
And good children are its precious ornament.
Instants
A poem by the Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges.
If I could live again my life,
In the next - I'll try,
- to make more mistakes,
I won't try to be so perfect,
I'll be more relaxed,
I'll be more full - than I am now,
In fact, I'll take fewer things seriously,
I'll be less hygenic,
I'll take more risks,
I'll take more trips,
I'll watch more sunsets,
I'll climb more mountains,
I'll swim more rivers,
I'll go to more places - I've never been,
I'll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,
I'll have more real problems - and less imaginary
ones,
I was one of those people who live
prudent and prolific lives -
each minute of his life,
Offcourse that I had moments of joy - but,
if I could go back I'll try to have only good moments,
If you don't know - thats what life is made of,
Don't lose the now!
I was one of those who never goes anywhere
without a thermometer,
without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umberella and without a parachute,
If I could live again - I will travel light,
If I could live again - I'll try to work bare feet
at the beginning of spring till
the end of autumn,
I'll ride more carts,
I'll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live - but now I am 85,
- and I know that I am dying ...
If I could live again my life,
In the next - I'll try,
- to make more mistakes,
I won't try to be so perfect,
I'll be more relaxed,
I'll be more full - than I am now,
In fact, I'll take fewer things seriously,
I'll be less hygenic,
I'll take more risks,
I'll take more trips,
I'll watch more sunsets,
I'll climb more mountains,
I'll swim more rivers,
I'll go to more places - I've never been,
I'll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,
I'll have more real problems - and less imaginary
ones,
I was one of those people who live
prudent and prolific lives -
each minute of his life,
Offcourse that I had moments of joy - but,
if I could go back I'll try to have only good moments,
If you don't know - thats what life is made of,
Don't lose the now!
I was one of those who never goes anywhere
without a thermometer,
without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umberella and without a parachute,
If I could live again - I will travel light,
If I could live again - I'll try to work bare feet
at the beginning of spring till
the end of autumn,
I'll ride more carts,
I'll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live - but now I am 85,
- and I know that I am dying ...
Friday, February 25, 2005
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
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
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
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.
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.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
"Please Dont Laugh"....
a lovely poem by J C Ashby...rather an accidental discovery....bt how aptly it fits into the theme of my thoughts at large in life.
"Please Dont Laugh"
I have given up trying to be grown up
And Spend my time in adolescent joys:
Finally thrown my 'I am Jesus' face off
And gone out to the boozer with the boys.
One time i took my stand a little distant
Listened to their jokes and felt superior
Quivered at the mention of a pair of tits;
Coloured from my toe to my posterior
For many years i looked round for a model
And two or three times thought i had found one,
But when i tried to pin them down to study,
A boy remained, i found the man had gone.
The first one had a pride that stank like mine did
The second had a nibble with a tart,
The third one curried favour with the wealthy,
The fourth, poor sod, became obsessed with art.
One more said that he would pin his faith in love
To rid the world of adolescent strife,
But quickly called me outside for a punch-up
When some kind neighbour said I'd jumped his wife.
My mother thought the world was growing rotten,
That God would take his loved ones for His own
Perhaps that's why i sometimes feel so lonely
Playing blues records on the gramophone.
Last week i went out walking in the country
And heard the turtle dove call from a tree,
I didnt stop to listen to his love-song
I knew he wasn't singing it to me.
As i came home i had to pass a cripple
I thought i ought to smile as i went by,
'Now there's someone that you should try and love son,'
I walked straight past, I couldn't meet her eye.
A candidate for office came to our house
'Just look and see sir what my party's done,'
I pointed to a block of flats like barracks
And trees that stood there weeping for the sun.
Kind Dr Best's the one who'll cure my sickness
In his still waiting-room i sit and pray,
He'll give me Soneryl to help the night on
And heart-shaped Drinamyl to cheer the day.
So farewell to the purple-headed mountain,
The family house, the rive running by,
Exotic over-ripe fruits in the winter,
The Atom bomb that lightens up the sky.
O Father will you cross my brow with water
And place my tired hands upon my chest,
Remove my testicles and their appendage
And teach me how to love with what is left.
"Please Dont Laugh"
I have given up trying to be grown up
And Spend my time in adolescent joys:
Finally thrown my 'I am Jesus' face off
And gone out to the boozer with the boys.
One time i took my stand a little distant
Listened to their jokes and felt superior
Quivered at the mention of a pair of tits;
Coloured from my toe to my posterior
For many years i looked round for a model
And two or three times thought i had found one,
But when i tried to pin them down to study,
A boy remained, i found the man had gone.
The first one had a pride that stank like mine did
The second had a nibble with a tart,
The third one curried favour with the wealthy,
The fourth, poor sod, became obsessed with art.
One more said that he would pin his faith in love
To rid the world of adolescent strife,
But quickly called me outside for a punch-up
When some kind neighbour said I'd jumped his wife.
My mother thought the world was growing rotten,
That God would take his loved ones for His own
Perhaps that's why i sometimes feel so lonely
Playing blues records on the gramophone.
Last week i went out walking in the country
And heard the turtle dove call from a tree,
I didnt stop to listen to his love-song
I knew he wasn't singing it to me.
As i came home i had to pass a cripple
I thought i ought to smile as i went by,
'Now there's someone that you should try and love son,'
I walked straight past, I couldn't meet her eye.
A candidate for office came to our house
'Just look and see sir what my party's done,'
I pointed to a block of flats like barracks
And trees that stood there weeping for the sun.
Kind Dr Best's the one who'll cure my sickness
In his still waiting-room i sit and pray,
He'll give me Soneryl to help the night on
And heart-shaped Drinamyl to cheer the day.
So farewell to the purple-headed mountain,
The family house, the rive running by,
Exotic over-ripe fruits in the winter,
The Atom bomb that lightens up the sky.
O Father will you cross my brow with water
And place my tired hands upon my chest,
Remove my testicles and their appendage
And teach me how to love with what is left.
Monday, January 03, 2005
"Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it."
~ Gautam Buddha
" Southern Florida, way down at the bottom of the country, jutting off into the ocean, is a place where people come when things don't work out elsewhere. A lot of times, people do start anew. The miles of identical strip malls, the seasonless years, the ocean and the palm trees, and the swampland seem to serve as a balm for souls that can't find quietude elsewhere. But just as often, instead of starting over, people simply fill their lives with bluster."
" It's easy to obsess about what might have happened when there are only two possible outcomes. But when you're not exactly sure what futures you're choosing between, whatever path you end up on finally feels inevitable. "
--- Two lovely sections from an article sent by devi on http://slate.msn.com/id/2111510/
~ Gautam Buddha
" Southern Florida, way down at the bottom of the country, jutting off into the ocean, is a place where people come when things don't work out elsewhere. A lot of times, people do start anew. The miles of identical strip malls, the seasonless years, the ocean and the palm trees, and the swampland seem to serve as a balm for souls that can't find quietude elsewhere. But just as often, instead of starting over, people simply fill their lives with bluster."
" It's easy to obsess about what might have happened when there are only two possible outcomes. But when you're not exactly sure what futures you're choosing between, whatever path you end up on finally feels inevitable. "
--- Two lovely sections from an article sent by devi on http://slate.msn.com/id/2111510/
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