Step by step, heart to heart,
left right left,We all fall down like toy soldiers.
Bit by bit torn apart,
we never win,
But the battle wages on for toy soldiers.
...woke up with this song in my head... charting out stuff for work long before the sun peeped in to say good morning... *sigh* n then this song comes out of nowhere...
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
an oldie... wonder why i never posted it
Burnt by the heat of the sun yet again
The grotesque pain somewhere within
Wailing out into the darkness of the evening
Crying out his silent tears,
Slowly sinking into its arms.
Tired of grasping for strength,
The healing just does not begin.
Tomorrow might just be another day of war,
And I know not how many more wounds this soldier will take
If at all he will cling to hope and stand up straight.
Or will he give in,
Wailing his silent tears into the darkness of this night.
Burnt by the heat of the sun yet again
The grotesque pain somewhere within
Wailing out into the darkness of the evening
Crying out his silent tears,
Slowly sinking into its arms.
Tired of grasping for strength,
The healing just does not begin.
Tomorrow might just be another day of war,
And I know not how many more wounds this soldier will take
If at all he will cling to hope and stand up straight.
Or will he give in,
Wailing his silent tears into the darkness of this night.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Pause.
Play!
Pause.
Why can't I just hit the stop button!
The same reel going over and over…
Not jaded, yet.
Dodging through the busses, cars and autos
Unscathed, not sure how,
For fatalism has just one drawback,
It leaves one on the driver’s seat, but with no control.
Pause…
…a few hours later
‘The General’ shoves me into my suit and latches on my seatbelt.
Cruising past the same ol’ beggars
Through the same lanes and potholes,
Tears over the same grievances
And laughter too seems simply so forced.
Not jaded, yet.
Hopefully just need to hit the eject button,
And throw in
An unused cassette.
* ‘The General’ is the song on my alarm :)
Play!
Pause.
Why can't I just hit the stop button!
The same reel going over and over…
Not jaded, yet.
Dodging through the busses, cars and autos
Unscathed, not sure how,
For fatalism has just one drawback,
It leaves one on the driver’s seat, but with no control.
Pause…
…a few hours later
‘The General’ shoves me into my suit and latches on my seatbelt.
Cruising past the same ol’ beggars
Through the same lanes and potholes,
Tears over the same grievances
And laughter too seems simply so forced.
Not jaded, yet.
Hopefully just need to hit the eject button,
And throw in
An unused cassette.
* ‘The General’ is the song on my alarm :)
Monday, October 31, 2005
No black feathered ravens, but white feathered birds
Stoically perched, before the threshold
Of mourning mortals, and silent souls.
Stood long with my head bowed,
Until invited inside…
Soaking in the Grief,
Instinctively initiating chants in my head
Of a lord long ignored.
A day of endings this,
Of reminders and silent tears,
Ironically some for those not even known
And then some more,
For those who once meant all the world to me…
Misunderstandings, regrets,
And an unwilling acceptance
Of how all will now always be.
Stoically perched, before the threshold
Of mourning mortals, and silent souls.
Stood long with my head bowed,
Until invited inside…
Soaking in the Grief,
Instinctively initiating chants in my head
Of a lord long ignored.
A day of endings this,
Of reminders and silent tears,
Ironically some for those not even known
And then some more,
For those who once meant all the world to me…
Misunderstandings, regrets,
And an unwilling acceptance
Of how all will now always be.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Aye, been a while since I rambled… soumabh, mate, I hate to see my blog rust away too, just not allowed myself the time to think and relax and indulge in the little things of life… but today, is just not the same as usual… its cooler, there's a soft breeze in the air, and… a smile in place of the etchings of tense determined lines… aye, blue be do, come ramble on with me…
A little beggar girl and an even littler babe, cart-wheeling at the centre of the road and then the show winded up by the elder sitting down and playing the dholki as the other dirty lil cherub continued to go round and round… one minute it's the hard earth under her head, and then the cool blue sky…
We sunk out together today once again, not to the gates of Bacchus this time though, but to the less intoxicating getaways of city life – the movies. Alas! The newspaper had mislead us and not a single watchable flick was on at that time : ( but then… it was all for the best, for what could two girls possibly like more than the next idea that struck us next– shopping! And so we went right ahead! … and bought a pair of slippers, two stoles, a sweater and several pairs of ear rings between the two of us, a lunch of American chopsuey and soup, and our wallets lighter by way too much for me to dare to count…. : ) aye me be happy! Blue be do, I love my sadu : P no… trust me I really didn't go get drunk... just feel light…
Wrote the above two days ago...while sitting at office waiting for the clock to strike six. Rushed home and then got dressed up to party! had fun. good fun. dressed up all pretty making full use of the goodies from my afternoon shopping spree : ) ...and the evening was purely divine... i let the music take me away... and the rest well was just very very cool : )
Got a rude shock last evening. three blasts in my own dear city- Delhi. One in a market where my sadu was shopping just about an hour before. aye.. lots of people, all gone.. and yet i hear crackers outside. I agree we've got to get back to normalcy and not let the terrorists gleefully grin away at a city robbed of its happiness, yet crackers- already?? the show goes on I guess...
My guess is the Kashmir terrorists might be behind it- what with the recent earth quake their suffering would have only increased. They did not like the sight of a nation celebrating and revelling in the joys of life... probably wanted us to feel, experience all that they do, day after day... since decades.
...been growing, way too fast for my liking...
A little beggar girl and an even littler babe, cart-wheeling at the centre of the road and then the show winded up by the elder sitting down and playing the dholki as the other dirty lil cherub continued to go round and round… one minute it's the hard earth under her head, and then the cool blue sky…
We sunk out together today once again, not to the gates of Bacchus this time though, but to the less intoxicating getaways of city life – the movies. Alas! The newspaper had mislead us and not a single watchable flick was on at that time : ( but then… it was all for the best, for what could two girls possibly like more than the next idea that struck us next– shopping! And so we went right ahead! … and bought a pair of slippers, two stoles, a sweater and several pairs of ear rings between the two of us, a lunch of American chopsuey and soup, and our wallets lighter by way too much for me to dare to count…. : ) aye me be happy! Blue be do, I love my sadu : P no… trust me I really didn't go get drunk... just feel light…
Wrote the above two days ago...while sitting at office waiting for the clock to strike six. Rushed home and then got dressed up to party! had fun. good fun. dressed up all pretty making full use of the goodies from my afternoon shopping spree : ) ...and the evening was purely divine... i let the music take me away... and the rest well was just very very cool : )
Got a rude shock last evening. three blasts in my own dear city- Delhi. One in a market where my sadu was shopping just about an hour before. aye.. lots of people, all gone.. and yet i hear crackers outside. I agree we've got to get back to normalcy and not let the terrorists gleefully grin away at a city robbed of its happiness, yet crackers- already?? the show goes on I guess...
My guess is the Kashmir terrorists might be behind it- what with the recent earth quake their suffering would have only increased. They did not like the sight of a nation celebrating and revelling in the joys of life... probably wanted us to feel, experience all that they do, day after day... since decades.
...been growing, way too fast for my liking...
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
A sweltering hot afternoon, the sun’s rays makes us flinch a step back. A little poem hidden away amidst the criss-crossed bands, safety pins, combs, notes…, peals of unfamiliar laughter replacing the old loved ones ring in my ear, yet another pair of moist eyes spill into mine own, whilst the all too familiar songs play on while older boys look upto me… Experiences, yes…the world spilling into my little cup…period.
Glistening eyes looking through the slightly smudged glasses, tufts of hair on either side of his temples. A dark goblin like man sitting opposite to me, a small stuffy canteen…my cup absorbing his beads of sorrow, at first trickling, and then gushing out… twice my age, looking for momentary peace, atleast. A long tale and a short hour later, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, a little lighter, yes?
Suffering from two days of silence, light headed me and one more quite so like me, stepped out of the factory of words for, a simple, slightly silly, little date with Bacchus. Aye, I was an old though not too familiar guest at his courts, and took it completely upon my two shoulders to introduce her to this world of spirits, at 2 in the afternoon, with fingers crossed that none would miss the two pixies missing from their machines. After a lie and a ride on a noisy three wheeler leaving us 15 bucks lighter, we got onto the asphalt road of the cottage that promised to be the tavern of spirits we’d come seeking.
Accustoming to the dim lights we made our way to a table, past the odd middle aged couple and settled into the sofas. On the far end another couple queerer to my eyes as they assiduously avoided their child left in the care of an ayah. Stretching my hand for the menu and asking the waiter for the drinks menu while I followed the trained polite eyes for the thoughts squirming beneath the uniform. In the ensuing hour, two or maybe three (what was it!?) vodkas and a trembling breathing heart, poured into my cup, whilst an absolutely absurd selection of music from Abba to Avril whispered away at the back. Out of the doors of the tavern we drew back blinking as the sun sore at the shoddy ladies shoved us into the shadows of the plank above. Mustering up courage, hand in hand, laughing, dizzy, happy, crossing the road, talking, we made our way back….topping the silliness (now I can say it all here right?) I reached back absolutely straight faced only to realize that all through the way back my fly had been …. (LOL) (somebody shut (atleast) me up!)
Seems to be my gift (or curse?) at how my cup just keeps taking in all else’s weight. No wonder then how little poems come into being that I refuse to call my own, and lie wrinkled in the crevices of my handbags. Or when the littlest thing makes me fear the worst. Paranoid? Or just a bit too sensitive? Yet to figure this one out.
The golden haired witch with a heart of gold living with me, can apparently heal a person, no matter how far he/she might me. She’s gonna climb onto her little broom and fly into floots’s world (Scotland, yes?) once again, in a very short while…
Glistening eyes looking through the slightly smudged glasses, tufts of hair on either side of his temples. A dark goblin like man sitting opposite to me, a small stuffy canteen…my cup absorbing his beads of sorrow, at first trickling, and then gushing out… twice my age, looking for momentary peace, atleast. A long tale and a short hour later, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, a little lighter, yes?
Suffering from two days of silence, light headed me and one more quite so like me, stepped out of the factory of words for, a simple, slightly silly, little date with Bacchus. Aye, I was an old though not too familiar guest at his courts, and took it completely upon my two shoulders to introduce her to this world of spirits, at 2 in the afternoon, with fingers crossed that none would miss the two pixies missing from their machines. After a lie and a ride on a noisy three wheeler leaving us 15 bucks lighter, we got onto the asphalt road of the cottage that promised to be the tavern of spirits we’d come seeking.
Accustoming to the dim lights we made our way to a table, past the odd middle aged couple and settled into the sofas. On the far end another couple queerer to my eyes as they assiduously avoided their child left in the care of an ayah. Stretching my hand for the menu and asking the waiter for the drinks menu while I followed the trained polite eyes for the thoughts squirming beneath the uniform. In the ensuing hour, two or maybe three (what was it!?) vodkas and a trembling breathing heart, poured into my cup, whilst an absolutely absurd selection of music from Abba to Avril whispered away at the back. Out of the doors of the tavern we drew back blinking as the sun sore at the shoddy ladies shoved us into the shadows of the plank above. Mustering up courage, hand in hand, laughing, dizzy, happy, crossing the road, talking, we made our way back….topping the silliness (now I can say it all here right?) I reached back absolutely straight faced only to realize that all through the way back my fly had been …. (LOL) (somebody shut (atleast) me up!)
Seems to be my gift (or curse?) at how my cup just keeps taking in all else’s weight. No wonder then how little poems come into being that I refuse to call my own, and lie wrinkled in the crevices of my handbags. Or when the littlest thing makes me fear the worst. Paranoid? Or just a bit too sensitive? Yet to figure this one out.
The golden haired witch with a heart of gold living with me, can apparently heal a person, no matter how far he/she might me. She’s gonna climb onto her little broom and fly into floots’s world (Scotland, yes?) once again, in a very short while…
Thursday, July 28, 2005
just because... i still can't get over this song!
BULLA KI JAANA
A Kafi written by Sufi Saint Bulla Shah, sometime in the 18th century
Bulla1 ki Jaana main kaun
Bulla ki Jaana main lkaun
(Bulla! I know not who I am)
(Bulla! I know not who I am)
Na main moman2 vich maseetan3
Na main vich kufar4 dian reetan5
Na main pakan6 vich paleetan7
(Nor am I the believer in mosque)
(Nor am I in the rituals of the infidel)
(Nor am I the pure in the impure)
Na main andar bed-kitiban8
Na main rehnda bhang-sharaban9
Na main rehnda mast-kharaban
(Nor am I inherent in the Vedas)
(Nor am I present in intoxicants)
(Nor am I lost nor the corrupt)
Na main shadi na gamnaki10
Na main vich paleetan pakeen
Na main aabi na main khaki
(Nor am I union nor grief)
(Nor am I intrinsic in the pure/impure)
(Nor am I of the water nor of the land)
Na main aatish na main paun
Bulla ki Jaana main kaun
(Nor am I fire nor air)
(Bulla! I know not what I am)
Na main arabi na lahouri
Na main hindi shahar nagouri
Na hindu na turk pashouri
(Nor am I Arabic nor from Lahore)
(Nor am I the Indian City of Nagaur)
(Nor a Hindu nor a Peshawri turk)
Na main bhet mazhab da paya
Na main aadam-havva jaya
Na koi apna naam dharaya
(Nor did I create the difference of faith)
(Nor did I create adam-eve)
(Nor did I name myself)
Avval-akhar aap nu Jaana
Na koi duja hor pachhana
Maithon na koi har syana
(Beginning or end I know just the self)
(Do not acknowledge duality)
(There's none wiser than I)
Bulla shauh Kharha hai kaun
Bulla ki Jaana main kaun
(Who is this Bulla Shah)
(Bulla! I know not who I am)
Meanings of words in the song: 1 Bulla - Bulla Shah, sufi saint2 Moman - muslim3 Maseetan - mosques4 Kufar - idolatry5 Reetan - rituals6 Pakan - the pure7 Paleetan - the impure8 Bed-kitaban -- Vedas & Islamic scriptures9 Bhang-sharaban -- opium & liquor10 Gamnaki -- funeral
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