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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

I’ve been as good as missing from here and well good I guess rather than some repeat cribbing.
But the last two weeks have been a blast from the past time having suddenly spoken/met so many of the people from the past.

And I suddenly wanted to write , just for the heck of it
But well lets start from some other point. The moment I heard the song I knew it would touch a set of people,
so it did and found so many loving that song.
The children who became adults of the 21st century majorly the +/- 1975-80 born people.
A sense of missing out , of how much could have been persists I feel in that generation which spent its best years
when there was such huge competition and no escapes even like 3 idiots.

Yes these are the people who want in their hearts desperately
– to grow up once again – with some sunshine.

Its a lovely song and I know some very hardworking , simple bright well settled people who at the exterior seem like the
calm / unemotional great acheivers or hard hearted but deep within in a very unsaid fashion longing for that sunshine , that happiness as there is that feeling of having missed out on what can never be again.

The movie 3 idiots well thats OK – good fun but I hate it being called great and I dislike quite much
in there (the know it all of Aamir’s character – the definitions of success and a lot of the oversmartness –
the book was actually tad more realistic in some sense as there was no HERO who had to be perfect)
but well fun it is – no two ways on that.

I always feel if you have a happy childhood , other half of your life may be good or bad but you kind of thrive on those memories.
But if that part of your life has pain some of the best acheivements and happiness in life will never take away that pain.

Even books from a children’s point of view are way too haunting at times.
I had started reading Kite Runner. I was depressed deeply half way through reading it. I had to stop it for a few weeks. It was a beautifully written book but I just found it depressing me.

The other book “A Thousand Splendid suns” did not affect much . It was just another story of what we sort of know and are used to – I mean of opression of women , human spirit and all that – somehow it does not match up to the first book Kite Runner By Khaled Hosseini.

Well back to my memories well I met a friend from school – after 18 yrs and I just talk and talk .
I come home and think why is it that you who take a minimum of a year to get used to talking to a person in your cubicle in today’s times and yet have it so easy talking to someone close to two decades ago.

It was so hard to remind myself this wasnt yesterday when we talked. Some of our teachers were dead and life hasnt been kind .
We havent lived up to what we had thought of becoming in school and yet it never felt that far.
Time plays havoc on the mind and letting go of past is such a hard process.
I of all seem to live in a time warp on the surface. Beyond the fact that then I was in school and now I am employed nothing seemed to have changed.

But its beneath the surface that the change lies
– I was then a sad scared and a tense child but had hopes in life , believed in surmounting the obstacles somehow, righting the wrongs
– I am now a confident adult who us is hugely cynical in life now

And yet when you see someone from that past and despite what you see only confirms your cynicism of life and the world
you want to turn the clock back
and grow up – once again

So I re-post this beautiful poem
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To deepest dusk,
from morning sun
to twilight dreams
fantastic schemes
and lives that go awry
such shining hopes
such sudden twists from
bright to dark
from grim to grand
from joy to sorrow
always waiting for tommorow
and a twist of fate
a ray of hope
with the faintest sleight of hand
the alteration of all of life’s schemes
and all its scope..
all with one tiny turn
of life’s KALEIDOSCOPE
.

Danielle Steel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Came across this moving poem by Oscar Wilde from The Ballad Of Reading Gaol. (Seems there’s a song by Gavin Friday on it)

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.

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Saw  poem in IKWP’s comment and as I’ve always said when I read or hear any
good stuff in any native language even the best of English words seem not expressive enough.

Sometime last fornight was sorting my stuff and while I’ve written a lot about my English books from school
 I never wrote much on my HIndi stuff which was as fascinating .
In fact I found reciting them immense fun.
May be I should write about those memories since life right now is way too dull and listless.

So here’s one such which when I read I could not stop laughing in memories and when I took it to my sister
 she said you read stuff so much passionately and funnily then that if we had the same books and syllabus did not change I’d have passed without studying.

We both agreed that this deserved to become a poster for motivation in my ofice cubicle.

jopul
Its sarcastic, true and yet sweet and funny.It by Hindi poet Agyey and is based on the part from the epic
Ramayana where it is the monkey army who built the bridge which eventually helped Rama and his Army to cross over.

The english translation of this is

Those who build the bridges
will definitely be left behind
The armies will cross over
Ravan would be killed
Ram would be victorious
Those who were the
architects/builders,
would be in history
known as monkeys.
================================

The poems in that little thin book still fascinate me
sometimes making me believe in goodness
 sometime making me even more sarcastic.(My favorite Surdas poem I’ve made heartless fun of it in my mind by now – will post on it later)

My notes in that book are even funnier. I cant belive my Hindi Maa’m quite a old lady dictated them so beautifully.

shringar ka arth hai premi premika ka pyaar
shringaar do prakaar ke hothe hai
sanyog shringaar – jab ve saath hothe hai,
 viyog shringaar – jab ve door hothe hai

Ah those stupid days
Where to find such IX th Std kids now.
shringaar tho bas bindi hai I guess.

And then I found a ad and a song which I loved  those days.
It used to come before World This Week . The Monte Carlo one.


Hmm seems too plain now ,
but it has nostalgia
which nothing now can ever have.

In fact I looked up all my favorite ads from DoorDarshan those days on You tube.
The Cadbury’s one’s for me are tooo good and oh so many more.
I’ve become terribly old.
You know it when you douse yourself with so much nostalgia.

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What if

What if its beyond you to get what you want
What if there is nothing else much that you have been able to want
What if you could exist without wanting
What if such existence was a choice
Would one want to exist such?

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Interpretation

Somewhere within your loving look I sense,
Without the least intention to deceive,
Without suspicion, without evidence,
Somewhere within your heart the heart to leave.

                                                                Vikram Seth

When i feel the least like writing or even reading something new i read the old already read books and poetry but then i love them all over again and wish to post them.
I guess this blog has lot of Vikram Seth’s fine poetry on it which i post cause i love just rereading it.

Another lovely one below

Across

Across these miles I wish you well.
May nothing haunt your heart but sleep.
May you not sense what I don’t tell.
May you not dream, or doubt, or weep.
May what my pen this peaceless day
Writes on this page not reach your view
Till its deferred print lets you say
It speaks to someone else than you.

Vikram Seth

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Pomegranate

The most impassioned of all trees,
The home of three intensities;
Gnarled trunk, dark concentrated leaf,
And flowers that burn in love and grief.

These are part of those haunting lines by Vikram Seth  and
 i really dig them too much and they kind of get imprinted on the mind.

This was a small draft i saved somewhere  and i just though i better get over with it.

Last year when i had to walk 10 mins home everyday across some lovely houses with gardens-  there used to be these trees with the sweetest orange flowers….and most of us know its the Anarkali.(Sad if we can only remember Salim now).

pomegranate
I have been so off mood that i looked back on my own blog
and then thought ….
why once upon a time i was so better at cribbing ….
now its such a boring rant….
Almost all in life seems so hopeless….
dont know whats the fuss is all about …
its not just me…most people just go on living ….and on.
But then i realise we create our own hypes…
our own passions which keeps us going….
the movies and movie stars/cricket and cricketers /Harry Potter/TV shows/Stock

markets /chat forums/hours of gossip/ambitions and even blogging for some.

But honestly what i still like when i look back and reread  are my favorite poems

and my thoughts on reading books.
Actually thats what it seems is missing….its been so long that i read a pure
fiction story apart from Harry Potter.(Well i better not start on it again…).
I need that escape …my books else this is how i become .

Bad memory has its pleasures.
I was looking up some old selected quotes and found this quote

People who are not in love fail to understand how an intelligent man can suffer because of a very ordinary woman. This is like being surprised that anyone should be stricken with cholera because of a creature so insignificant as the comma bacillus.
Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past, vol. 2, “Swann’s Way: Swann in Love”

Some people have an awesome way with words….Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Comma bacillus …ROFL………..

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Read through the lovely poem below by Elizabeth browning and then i suddenly remembered one of my favorite song by Jagjit Singh – “Pyaar mujhse kiya tumne to kiya paaogi” from the movie Saath Saath.
(Its the only cassette which i needed to buy a second time as it was overused before the free mp3 days. Chitra Singh is too good in Arth and Saath Saath songs. Adore her voice somehow as much as Jagjit Singh’s….esp that Tu nahi to zindagi me song…….hmmmm)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love–which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.

—elizabeth browning—
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pyar mujh se jo kiyaa tumne to kya paaogi
mere haalaat ki aandhi mein bikhar jaaogi

ranj aur dard ki basthi ka main baashinda hoon
ye to bas main hoon ke is haal mein bhi zinda hoon
khwaab kyoon dekhoon wo kal jispe main sahrminda hoon
mainjo sharminda hoon to aur tum bhi sharmaaogi

kyoon mere saath koi aur pareshaan rahe
meri duniya hai jo weeraan to weeraan rahe
zindagi ka ye safar tum pe to aasaan rahe
humsafar mujhko banaaogi to pachtaaogi

ek main kya abhi aayenge diwaane kitne
abhi goonjenge mohabbat ke taraane kitne
zindagi tumko sunaaegi fasaane kitne
kyoon samajhti ho mujhe bhool nahi paaogi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even reminiscences can be coincidental

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