Sombreuil Roses

A shield, seemingly impenetrable
of mind games, of
false safety.
Struck once, and fallen.
For this, all these years?
Make a wall to break it?

Except LHS is not equal to RHS here;
Cos the wall has broken what was growing on it.

'Push yourself up' - they say.
On what?
What was built upon a fallacy is now in crumbles.
'That was real' - you cry:
Who hears?

Left with a mess.
'Left with a test;
For your strengths'
Or for your courage?

Will that collapse too?
If it is false.

Who's the judge? - you demand.
Who knows?
The doubt lies. The judge stays veiled. Your courage is burning.

But wait! is that a phoenix coming through?

Veritas

I'm listening to the same
new songs on the radio
while acting unconvincingly
that I'm studying;
'rate of population growth', 'job creation targets' ..

(Don't say alvida ... )

Two weeks left, I tell myself
Down from a month. Down from a year!
Its no more a put-off-able eventuality.
Its on my head:
Right here. Right now.

(Na kaho alvida ... )

My mom doesn't want me to leave Delhi.
I'm waiting to leave. Doesn't seem so likely now.

(Aj din chadeya ... )

I wonder if its true,
When most people say they miss home
when they leave.
I doubt I will. I'm known
to myself to be quite un-sentimental.

I'm not missing school either.
Or the 'friends'.

(Zinda hoon main ... )

This life of inertia pleases me.
They say I'm not ambitious.
But I am: I don't want
to work; hard or otherwise. (Doesn't that count?)

(Aj dil gustakh hai ... )

I want to be at my leisure. Always.
I want the security of a routine. Of
free time.

(Chidiya ghar se pakde hain ... )

Edging out rivals was never my thing.
Sometimes most things aren't.
Sometimes most things are.

I look at the calendar.
Two weeks left!

(Wake up Sid ... )

*Switches off radio*
*Opens a book*

The Walrus and the Carpenter

This is one of my favourite Lewis Carroll poems ever!

"The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright --
And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
     Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done --
"It's very rude of him," she said,
    "To come and spoil the fun."

The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead --
    There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
`If this were only cleared away,'
    They said, `it would be grand!'

`If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
    `That they could get it clear?'
`I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

`O Oysters, come and walk with us!'
    The Walrus did beseech.
`A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each.'

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
    But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head --
Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat --
And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more --
All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

`The time has come,' the Walrus said,
    `To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax --
    Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
    And whether pigs have wings.'

`But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,
    `Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!'
`No hurry!' said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

`A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,
    `Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed --
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed.'

`But not on us!' the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
`After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!'

`The night is fine,' the Walrus said.
    `Do you admire the view?

`It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
    `Cut us another slice:

I wish you were not quite so deaf --
    I've had to ask you twice!'

`It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
    `To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!'

The Carpenter said nothing but
    `The butter's spread too thick!'

`I weep for you,' the Walrus said:
    `I deeply sympathize.'

With sobs and tears he sorted out
     Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
     Before his streaming eyes.

`O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,
     `You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
     But answer came there none --
And this was scarcely odd, because
     They'd eaten every one.

Oh and please catch me on another blog: nidhichikkerur.blogspot.in

To the Moon

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, -
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?


- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Sophía

Often I have wondered
What must it be like to die?
How does it feel?
Painful or painless?

What does one think?
- Of achieved glories and exploits,
Of debts unpaid,
Or of emotions buried?

Does one feel sad to leave the stage,
Or happy indeed in the final act of the play?
But alas! Who shall tell me this?
For I know none who's
dead and come to demystify this truth of life
Known to no scientist, answerable by no teacher ...

But one thing I know
A long life is not my desire
To be wretched and afflicted is not my way
With disease I do not want to sway

For now my friends, let us
Not choose our requiem
For we have books to read, and
Places to see
And miles to go before we sleep.

reminisce

Another poem so soon, wow! Its proved therefore that writing does make your thoughts flow easily and fluently. (!)


I stand by the window
Hearing the diapason of memories
Somewhat dispassionately
Nursery, prep, ..... ...........
....., tenth, eleventh, ......

Somewhere it stops
A cuckoo breaks my reverie
What is this I'm doing? - I think
What is this time? - the calm before the storm?

Shifting fog defines this phase
Is this some legerdemain of life?

I stand by the window
I now look out, not in
Moving cars - red, black, one pink
I'm going to buy a bike, I
think, when I work.

The music has now fully stopped
Now a gone moment
Blessed oh Lord is the capacity to forget!

Overheadover

As I've mentioned before, I'm not much of a poet. Add to that a complete unfamiliarity with the pen over the past few years, and my skills are very doubtable. Despite all this, I have written something that I'd like to share here. Warning: Its not been edited. Plus, I wrote it in the middle of the night when I suddenly woke up with my head full of something.




I was born in the hour of the sun
Two scores and six (years) after Shastri's death
There was nothing remarkable about my birth
Nothing new about my height or girth.

To this day I have come
Some beauty some talent a lot of care
Wishing to somehow shift my path
To alluring greatness, life and style.

Wishing to somehow make a destiny
Without the regular worries of dime,
Without the worldly chains of time
I have come forth to reach across
Meet the horizon
And with a smile
Acclaim true light.




P.S: So much for believing in my 'abilities'. ;)

(Not so) Random Ramblings: The Big A's

Heya!

There is scarcely one of us out there who has, at no point of childhood or adolescence, been asked about what s/he wants to do in life. I present no exception.

So I want to today, in written form acknowledge my Aims and Aspirations. Truth is, one never really knows about this, but one always has some kind of a vague understanding, if one judges their own behaviour.

I think aspirations consist of the values that are unbending to you: I want to be happy, I want to be powerful, or I want to leave my mark on the world. While aims are more defined achievements which help in fulfilling our aspirations.

Let me first talk about the more narrow career-oriented aims that are seemingly more important in today's world. I, as a child (till about 4th grade) wanted to be a doctor. I believe, on later thought, that this was because my father wanted to be a doctor too, and my grandmother always mentioned this to me. Then suddenly I realised that I didn't want that, and then for a year I had no 'aim'. This was followed by a long phase of wanting to be everything. I doubt there is a career I did not consider. From food technology to biotechnology to oceanography to entomology to anthropology ................. Yet there is one that I never planned to do: engineering. I'm fully certain that this is because I come from a family of engineers. My grandfather is an engineer, his two daughters are engineers, they were both married off to engineers, whose brothers too were engineers. This is my immediate blood family. If you look at my culture, the south of India, it is considered the most prestigious degree. I have reason to believe that even if my mother and her sister wanted to do something else, they will not have been allowed. This probably caused some sort of a repugnance in me towards it.

As for aspirations, I want to lead a life free from fear; of any sort. I don't want to be scared about what others think, about the effects my actions will cause, about when my boss will feel I have nothing to contribute, and also insecurity about my abilities. I never want to be hindered from doing anything by thinking about the consequences. People say we have a short life (I personally don't believe that, let us arguendo take it to be true), then why should we waste time and energy listing the pros and cons of each thing? Just do what you want to do, and have the courage to face what it results in, without attracting the ire of society. It cannot be all that bad if we do have a sort life, right? Everything will be over quickly then.

I once had a friend who, when he was little, wanted to be a truck driver. It amused his mother and other elders to repeatedly ask him that and laugh at it. Indeed it was funny. But usually, most of us want to do very grandiose things when we're children, but get over all such notions by the time we enter our teens. Its exceedingly rare to see someone who still believes that s/he can do anything, and everything. I have one particular friend who till date has multiple ambitions - musician, economist, international affairs strategist among others. And he believes that he can do all that, which is truly remarkable. He has avoided being bogged down by the relentless negativism of society; avoided being affected by all the supposedly mature and wise people who tell you to dream in your childhood, and instruct you to dismantle and discard them when you grow older. Its like the Samsung advertisement Aamir Khan did some time back - bachpan mein to itni cheezein karna chahte the, toh ab kyun nahi? or some equivalent tagline.

Today, I resolve to always and forever believe in myself and my abilities, even if it means to magnify them a little, as there is nothing that one cannot achieve if one tries hard enough .

Obviam excellentia!

random ramblings

I want to be a lawyer see, and today I found this webpage that just changed my perception.
Check it out - http://rinkworks.com/said/courtroom.shtml

It makes my to be ilk look like such a class of dunces :P

If you haven't already, do listen to Eric Nicholas; I find his voice and singing quite addictive. His best are My Girlfriend is a Dime, Crazy on You, and Song for my Future Wife.

I watched Gotham Knight yesterday. I found it silly that they named Indian people Russell and Cassandra; what is the point - if just to make the names familiar, then why use the term fakirs anyway?

I used to write limericks when I was a kid, you know. But I just abruptly stopped, for a reason still unidentified. I aim to start writing soon: that and other stuff, although I was never much of a poet. That reminds me of a line in Ashokamitran's book: he said that poetry is the true pursuit of a genius; prose writing is meant for the 'patient persistent persevering drudge whose heart is so shrunken that rejection slips mean nothing to him...' Very interesting thought, isn't it? Yes, I'm writing that here in spite of the fact that this will mean I don't have much genius. ;)

Quote of the day: Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.
                                                                                         - Albert Einstein

oncoming nostalgia

Hey there again
At this point of my life, I'm really nowhere. Its a period of seemingly un-ending waiting. waiting for the board results, waiting for the entrances to start, and also waiting for my mom to go out somewhere, so that I can watch tv a little more guiltlessly. preparation, is as usual heading nowhere; although I'm really pleased with myself today for going through half a book. But talking to strangely more serious people threatened to burst my bubble; but only just :)

Yesterday, I cleaned out my secondary cupboard. I had been postponing it, but got down to it at 2 in the morning (yes, I'm nearly nocturnal). Anyway, so I found these amazing things, which I of course knew existed, but had never really Really noticed! I'm sure that sounded strange, but then, risking a cliche, facts are stranger than fiction, right. I found old sequined very pretty clutches, a birthday gift I had never seen after after that day, and my old uniform. I also found my Kuchipudi ghungroos (bells); which I used to do when I was a child. They're like Kathak ghungroos (different from my present Bharatnatyam ones), two long thick strings of two rows of bells. I put them on immediately, and was reminded strongly of the hall where I learnt, my teacher who I've not seen since over 6 years, and the general delights of being young and free from responsibility. My life now presents such a contrast to my life then! But then, I must not sound like I have regrets; because most certainly I do not. However, I was forced to take them off too early for my liking, because well, simply because my neighbours wouldn't take it too well to be woken up by funny sounds from the house above.

Oh also, I'm so hopelessly in love with Taylor Swift's 'Breathe'; I cannot not sing it all the time. Underlined by Colbie Caillat's deeper vocals, it is so liltingly captivating! I also read Pride and Prejudice again. It seems so fresh and new even if you remember every line. I am such a fan of Jane Austen! (Although that may seem very out of character for me, because I mostly read thrillers)

And I've totally reached my saturation point with IPL; I kid not, I cannot stand another match. And my favourites - the Delhi Daredevils have lost the last three consecutively, making this condition only worse.

Till next time, chill out and keep it stylish!

P.S Sorry for that last part, I wanted to, just once, say that. :P

reconciliation

Summer has indeed begun to show its effects - power cuts have started in the capital city too. :(

I'm still stuck in the middle of the large wave of law preparation. somehow, i don't know why, but i'm being quite unable to focus. its like those times your mind and body is screaming for a break; but you won't - cannot pause what you must do. in the case of law, its what i want to do, its what i have to do, but still this feeling of utterly despicable de-motivation won't leave me. 

i hope i can get on full swing in another week at the most ...

anyway, general knowledge. by god, who the hell made this subject? when i was younger, i actually liked reading encyclopedias and yearbooks et al. but that theory - of not wanting to do something once its required of you too do it, is so darn true. once i knew i was 'supposed' to read newspapers, i stopped. instantly. so sad right?