Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The test

Every now and then

A test comes my way
By way of
Difficult…chaotic situations
Challenges & roadblocks

My first response usually is
Panic…anger…grief
I feel life is trying to
Test my patience
My perseverance, my dedication
Haven’t you found enough evidence of that already?
A yell out a rhetorical question and move on

I push myself
To overcome the initial angst
And overcome I do.
My perseverance and dedication triumph
I realize that I succeed the test of resolve
What I don’t realize is
I fail the test of trust

For I take a few more steps on my journey
Turn around the corner
And find…
Help, resolution…peace
All it takes is a few more steps to find
Help, resolution…peace!
And yet I panic each time

It’s only after many such tests that I understand
That each time I have expressed
Panic…anger…grief
I have let you down…dear Life!
And yet
Each time you’ve sent me
Help, resolution…peace
You have never let ME down!

And I must remember
The next time you throw a test my way
That you are not really trying to test
My patience or perseverance
For you know I have learnt that lesson already
What you are really trying to teach me is
TRUST and faith in YOU

Thursday, January 8, 2009

That Light










That light…
Sitting in a lamp
Inside the temple across the road

What does it say to you?

It does not say anything
It is just there
Everyday...It is there!

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

The Healer

He listens…compassionately
Reaches out
Touches people’s lives
A wandering nomad
He comforts
Those he finds around him
A sponge…
He absorbs negative energies from the universe
Offering in return
Strength and Solace


He listens…compassionately
And has forgotten how to speak

Reaches out…
Yet travels inwards

Touches people’s lives
But yearns to be touched

A wandering nomad
He comforts those he finds around him

Though is trying to find his way home


A sponge…
He absorbs negative energies from the universe

I wonder...whether he rids himself of those
And how he soaks in more

Offering in return… strength & solace
Though - what do you think keeps him from crumbling inside?

Friday, September 21, 2007

Canvas 2

The only color I saw on the canvas was white
The lines I drew did not a picture make
And a silence filled up the empty spaces
The canvas lay still un-spoilt!

Thursday, January 11, 2007

One

Where do I begin
To separate what is yours
And what is mine

The breath and beat
that keep me alive
do i call them yours
or mine?

The thoughts, feelings
could i create them
without you?
Then those are not
solely mine too

Like lovers
Parted - in time
Each day, each minute
Each life that goes by
Without you
Is a burden
My soul bears

If You and I
Are destined
To be one - in time
Then what should I call yours?
And what should I call mine?

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P. S - This thought has evolved in time. Part 1 - Relinquish, Part 2 - The sun and his twin



Tuesday, December 19, 2006

On nursery rhymes and morbidity

All of us have some discussions left incomplete, questions left unanswered that resurface every now and then. Untill you don't bring closure to these thoughts / questions, they come back to haunt you one way or another. One such question in my mind has been - why nursery rhymes have morbid undertones. A college mate and i had discussed this for the first time about 10 years ago. Last month it surfaced again on reading this post 'on struggling with poems language and culture' and then yet again when someone mused about why did the engine come and break piggies bones? I had to get to the bottom of this issue.

Those were never mean to be nursery rhymes in the first place

An excerpt from the secret history of nursery rhymes states that....

Many of the origins of the humble nursery rhyme reflect actual events in history! The secret meanings of the Nursery Rhyme have been lost in the passing of time. A nursery rhyme was often used to parody the royal and political events and people of the day. The humble Rhyme was used as a seemingly innocent vehicle to quickly spread subversive messages! A rhyme is often short and easy to remember and this was a critical element when many people were unable to read or write and a rhyme was verbally passed from generation to generation - it was also a vital element when commoners wanted to comment on the events of the day! It must be remembered that direct criticism or dissent would often have been punishable by death!

So while Jack (of the jack and jill fame) was Louis the XVI, jill who came tumbling after him was the queen Marie Antoinette and humpty-dumpty was not this over-weight cute thing we had imagined. Infact he was not even human, it was a cannon that protect a church in the city of colchester. And ring-a-ring of roses, made a reference to a deadly plague that gripped england in the 1300's that left a rosy red rash in the form of a ring, and killed many - which is why - they all fall down !

How rhymes of yore (and gore) become nursery rhymes....

After 200 or so years of narrating rhymes - people got a little weary of them. Their vocal chords needed rest. So around the middle of the 1500s, they started printing little booklets with these rhymes, also supported by cute illustrations. Thus we see the birth of comics - called Chapbooks.

Chapbook is "a small book or pamphlet containing poems, ballads, stories, or religious tracts". More people during this time were learning to read but the chapbooks were also popular with people who could not read as they contained pictures, in the printed form of crude wood engravings - A Middle Ages equivalent of a Children's comic!
Though it has not been mentioned explicitly, one can infer that, since these chapbooks were amongst the first forms of printed literature available, people learning how to read used these and would have probably set a precedent there in including these rhymes in any toddler's coursework. Besides these rhymes had some elements in their structure and language that made it easy for people to remember them - the alliteration in hickory dickory dock or phonetic words like baa baa in the one with the blacksheep - which could have aided their continued presence in the pre-school syllabus.

Why do children still recite these gruesome ballads?

One reason is that these rhymes have become sacred cows in their own right. Attempts at revising these rhymes have not met with much success - a) people believe that these rhymes have been part of our childhood for generations and revising them would be losing some of that legacy and b) that some sources state "that such rhymes allow children to imaginatively deal with violence and anger and revising them would mean that we are poorer as a society because of the lost opportunities to discuss obsolete values"

I don't completely agree with either - my mother and grandmother did not grow up reciting these rhymes. They had rhymes of their own and i'll come to that in a bit. So culturally it would be safe to assume that at the most 2 generations (mine and the one before) are familiar with these since our lineage does not take us back to 17th century England. And the second reason i partially agree with - yes these could act as starting points to stir up discussions on racial or religious hatred but i suppose 5 or 6 would not be the right age to broach such subjects...don't you agree? It would be more appropriate fodder for grown-up discussions.

Which brings me to reason # 3 - that its too tedious to change the syllabus (getting new books printed and all that) and where would we find new nursery rhymes for kids - so lets just conclude we are a lazy lot who'd rather have kids wondering why most of their nursery rhyme characters are falling, hurting and having their crowns and bones broken.

Did my mother sing Goosey Goosey Gander?

On one of my recent trips home, i heard my 3 yr old niece recite hindi rhymes (machli jal ki rani hai...jeevan uska paani hai and bandar mama...pehan pyjama) taught to her by my mother. Some I had heard before, some were new to me - but none of them were the text book rhymes i was familiar with. I did a quick search to see if i these rhymes were popular with others too or whether i could find more of them. I found a whole host of pages dedicated to them. Indian Nursery Rhymes has poems in many indian languages...thanks to which i heard yere yere pausa (marathi for - a child calling the rain). Karadi Rhymes has two cds full of indigenous compositions like 'my name is madhavi...I'm from allepey'. Hopefully we'll see more such inclusions to what kids are taught in kinder garden and we wont have an instance where some child asks his mother ' but mama why did they not pick up humpty dumpty when he fell down,' with the mama saying...'beta i don't have the answers to your questions...just learn it up or how will you do well in your school admission interview'

And here is a really cute one i found on this site

utho beta aankhein kholo
bister choro or moonh dholo
itna sona theek nahi hai
waqt ka khona theek nahi hai
sooraj nikla taare bhaage
dunya waale saare jaage
tum bhi utho bahir jao
achay waqt ka lutf uthao

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An excellent resource on the history of rhymes here and here


Nursery Rhymes,History of Nursery Rhymes,Indian Rhymes,

Friday, December 8, 2006

Crack



Mahino porane crack aaj phir nazar aane lage hain
Shayad cement achhe quality ka nahin tha
Chalo chodein in poorani baaton ko
Kyon na bazaar se aaj kuch naye rishtein le ayein?

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Cracks from the past have started resurfacing once again
Maybe we did not use a good quality sealant
No point trying to mend something so old
Why not go and get ourselves some new relationships today




PS - i always find it difficult when i think in one language to translate it to another. These were just 4 lines so i dared to attempt. suggestions on the hindi - english translation are welcome :)

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

I'M Irony

We see each other everyday
You and I…
Close enough to share
the same few inches of space
yet…distanced by the silence
that has filled the space for years
You ‘away’ in your world
And me ‘busy’ in mine


*IM - Instant Messaging


Friday, October 6, 2006

When Boredom Strikes..

Its quarter past eight
When boredom strikes
3 rounds to the kitchen I make
But nothing appetizing insight
Why oh why
Do I suffer this plight
When inertia takes over
…The psyche
Then the fly on the wall
And I are alike
Not an inch we feel moving like
What does one do?
When boredom strikes
When staring at the TV
Becomes a rite
Or writing up verses like these…
So trite!

Sunday, October 1, 2006

The sun and his twin



The sun has a twin
Who looks at him through the day
Like it’s shadow…
He rises alongside every morning
And at dusk…merges with the sea

The twin - whispers to the sun
Though I’ve always been with you
How come you don’t know me?
If I can see you
Then why cant thee?

Is it possible then?
Like this sun
I have a twin too
Oblivious of its existence today
I will discover it someday

Standing face to face
Will I hear him - telling me…
Though I’ve been with you
Since you’re first heart beat
You have looked for me
Sometimes in stones and rocks
At other times in temples…and around trees




Friday, June 23, 2006

Canvas










When I looked closely
At a large un-spoilt canvas
Colors began to appear…
As moments came alive
Imaginary Lines
That appeared dispersed at first
Converged with the force of sound
Before I could even realize
Emotions had seeped through
The pores of the canvas
And a home had come to life!

Monday, June 5, 2006

Bombay...meri jaan!

Of bhel puri and juhu chowpaty
To Irani ki chai…bun maska and kheema patty

From Kasa kai bara hai…kai chaal lai?
To Circuit, Maamu and Munna bhai

From the fish fry that hangs upside down at Sion koliwada
To Sri Krishna’s garama garam bata vada

Of Cusrow Baug & Freny Todiwallah
And of food delivery men…the dabbawallas

Of cuffe parade and sassoon docks
To bade miyah ke lazeez kabab

Of lazy afternoons at Leopolds and Mondegar
To firangs on causeway leching…smoking cigar

When Sandra and Robert need to meet chori chori
Would it be at Church pakadi or khotachi wadi?

Traffic signals bypassed…railway tracks we cross
We hang with our lives from the doors of the virar fast

From the pious steps of Mahalaxmi,
To the morning sight of the Haji ali

Bombay or Mumbhai whichever way you see
Thoda spicy…thoda cool…hai yeh city

*****************************************************************************

There are so many more things quintessentially bombay....feel free to add your verses.

, ,,

Sounds of Silence



A silence screams out
Wrestling with the inner walls
In an attempt to tear those open
An attempt….but in vain

Those walls which look so tender
Trap the sound inside
For those have been sealed by the
Deafening noises from the world outside

They let the sounds from the outside….in
But none can getaway from within

Sounds that have reverberated through the ages
They all lay there buried…confined to those cages
Struggling to find a way…to escape
Perhaps in the soul…they’ll find an aide

, ,

Friday, May 5, 2006

Straddling two worlds

On one step I hear a prayer…a chant
On the other…a blaring declaration…halleluiah…it’s raining men
A car zooms past – and a bunch of girls scream

One step reminds me of the smell of the earth in my country
On the other, an overpowering whiff from the local take-away

On the next step my feet do an involuntary jiggle
My heart leaps
And on the next – I control them and regularize my pace

With one step I see a burst of color…music…vibrancy
With the other I look ahead to see a grey…placid land

With one step I see an empty box of mangoes thrown away on the street
With the other I realize its summer time in India

On my first step I am on Cow Bridge Road East
On my next…I’m in someplace I have never been
Yet it looks very familiar…I am in my country

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Some days back I went for a long walk by myself. The I-Pod kept me company. The walk was an absolute medley of experiences. Its was like being present in two worlds at the same time. My attention would oscillate between the physical world that I was part of and the mental world I created for myself as a listened to the soundtrack of Rang De Basanti. Strange feeling!

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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Ma

Trying to capture all that a mother does, in words is so so difficult. Though this poem is about a mother, our parents are simply responsible for 'what we are today'. What they did for us we very easily forget. We just move on with our lives....We forget that they are 'real people' beyond being just someone's mother or father. They have needs, desires and hopes too, which they very often put aside, just for our happiness. And this becomes such a habit with us and them, that we forget about their existence beyond us and keep expecting them to live their lives according to what we want. Spare a thought, spare a moment, spare a smile. They do not ask for much!

(A picture of my mom and my niece, clicked by my brother - I love this picture!
They are the two people I love the most!)

Though I saw her each day of my life,
I barely noticed her
Sometimes I smelt her in the cup of tea that I sipped…
Staying up late in the nights as I prepared to read

Another time…I felt her as I rest my head
Whenever I returned home after a long day
I always found a pillow, a warm blanket and night clothes near my bed

My clothes were always soft and clean
Neatly stacked in my cupboard…I would see
Mindlessly I would mess them up each day
She silently re-arranged those…not a word she would say

Yet I barely noticed her….

Sometimes a glimpse of her I would see
As I sat with our old family album
In a sepia toned image…there was she
A young girl…on a picnic with her friends
A carefree girl, I saw through that lens

Never did I once stop to think
Where have all those people gone?
Never did I once ask her
What is it that SHE wants?

Since I barely noticed her…

She toiled endlessly
As days, months and years passed us by
All she wanted in return
Was to see, a smile on my face…
A twinkle in my eye

In the last twenty nine years
Not a single holiday has she earned
It is only now, that I stop to wonder
How does she find the strength to carry on?

I wish I could go back in time
And if I could do it all over again
I would not mess up my cupboards so often
Or come home late at nights or cause her pain

I wish I had listened to her
Noticed all that she was doing for me
I wish I could thank her for being by my side
Each and every time I felt at sea

All I can do now is
Thank her and God for giving her to me
And in my thoughts and prayers…
She shall always be!

Categories: Poems_ , Reflections_




',

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Relinquish


Background

I first wanted to name this poem (if i can call it a poem), 'surrender'...but the word seemed to have a negative ring to it. Though it has shades of the spirit of relinquishing, it also connotes an acceptance of despair, an admittance of defeat.

'Relinquish' on the other hand...sounds relatively more straight-forward and matter-of-fact to be the title of a poem. It is in fact very 'prosaic' but, I found some very powerful visual cues when looking up this word

Relinquish is to...

To part with a possession or a right
Cease to hold or adhere to
Relinquish to the power of another; yield to the control of another (and the last one is my favorite)
To release, as from one's grip

I have always grappled with the question...do I own my life? Am I the master of my own destiny? And each time i have asked myself this question, i have a subtle reminder that there is something beyond me that is steering the course of my life...call it a force, destiny, fate or God....and whenever I step back a bit from myself and my life and watch what is happening and let it happen...I find myself happier, instead of forcibly trying to steer it to another path. That does not mean I surrender my life and stop dreaming and living and experiencing what it offers. I merely open my fist...and release my grip and then sit back and enjoy the auto pilot mode....And I have written this poem...so that every time i forget this truth or doubt it, it serves me as a reminder

_________________________________________________________________________________

I give back to you what is yours
What was never mine…I can never own
I can never control

I am just here to experience what you have set out for me
I do not choose these experiences
I neither despair…nor hope…nor desire
I accept what you have given me
And thank you for it

I have nothing of mine in me.
Whatever is there….is yours!

Categories: Reflections_ , Poems_

Monday, February 20, 2006

Whisper

Background

The experience of visiting some of the best museums in the world is truly awe-inspiring. It literally seems like taking a ‘walking tour’ of the world. However, how much of the world has been plundered to create those displays was a thought that kept haunting me time and again. Nations have started demanding their treasures back and rightfully so. Their plea has fallen upon deaf ears. In one way, these museums do great service to the world by preserving and protecting artifacts which at least in some cases would have otherwise fallen to ruin – we are all familiar with how easily this could happen in India. Nevertheless, a nation does have a right to its history and relics that represent that. But then who says everything in life is fair and square
_______________________________________________________________________________

Whisper...

I drifted from one gallery to another
In wonderment of what lay ahead further
It seemed like the whole world had converged under one large roof
The sun rushed in through the glass top…determined it stood!

People posed for pictures…
Some kneeled in front of the displays
To capture their mere presence at this place
On to the sculpted marble...some others held on
To merge with a moment in time, by-gone

As I stood watching…I heard a whisper…

I looked around and everywhere
I heard it again…though saw no one there
I listened closely and found
In the corner of the room, from a column came that sound

‘Twas a column from an ancient stupa
Which stood tall…in all its splendor
Though now only a poor shadow of the past…
It was reminiscent of the days of grandeur
From the plaque I knew
It was one of the two
Together the twins
Adorned the gates of the shrine

It whispered…

I have stood here now
As many (years) have come and gone
I feel…here, I do not belong
I belong to a different time…a different place
Without me…which bears no grace

My soul yearns for my people…my land
Which lies incomplete without me and in ruin
I wish to be taken there
Where I am one amongst my kin
For there my soul will find peace within

I drifted again from that gallery to another
I heard more voice, cries from many others
From columns, statues, pillars and tombstones
That belonged to another time …another nation
They lay locked in their glass cases
All waiting for salvation!

Categories: Poems_

Sunday, March 20, 2005

The Smell of Life - An Olfactory Ode!

The smell of Life – A background!

Some days back I attended an ideation workshop that involved engaging in little creative games. For one of these exercises we were given a list of random words, we were asked to combine any two and write up a pen-profile based on the combination. The words that I drew from the lot were ‘actor’ and ‘smell’.

As I started thinking about how I could associate these two words – a thought crossed my mind – we often classify things (and in this case would have done the same with ‘smell’) as being either ‘good’ or ‘bad’ - often ignoring the whole space that lies in-between these two binary opposites. That’s the way we are designed to think! We 'understand anything by first understanding the opposite of what it is' - so we know dirt because its not clean and we know darkness because it is the absence of light. (It is not possible to measure darkness / study it in physics - but it is possible to study light - refraction theory)

When I was trying to combine the two words - smell and actor - I found myself falling into the same trap. - Either combining actor and smell in a positive way - which was the obvious choice – going into the terrain of endorsements for perfumes etc - or combining the two in a negative way - an actor who smells bad - the typical struggler - but both sounded too clichéd. That thought led to a search for middle ground. And I thought about an actor - grounded in reality - a theatre performer - very makrand deshpande - very swades like – honest…hardworking…a little cynical…a little idealistic. If one would imagine a character like that and associate ‘smell’ with him – that would be the 'the smell of life'

Though it could be argued that smell per se has a negative connotation – the flip of which – would be fragrance, aroma etc… the smells that we experience in life many a time occupy a middle ground largely due to the emotions that surround a situation. Since we do not feel a sensation in isolation. We connect with past associations that we have formed of that situation as individuals or as a culture.

So when one walks down a field…the smells that hit us are not always pleasant…the smell of dung…and sometimes fertilizer…yet a field conjures up images of nature…purity…freshness…mother earth…leaving an overall feel good factor.

The stimuli that occupy the spaces in-between are interesting - since they are impactfull in a subtle way. ‘The Smell of Life – An Olfactory Ode’ will conjure up smells in your mind that you have definitely experienced – though by their very nature none of these you will actually be able to classify as ‘good or bad’!

Go ahead…give it a try!

The smell of the earth after the first shower of rain
The smell of a long lost friend…the smell of pain!

The first whiff of the salty sea breeze
The smells that envelope you as you walk down a field

The smell of a freshly painted room
The smell of the morning coffee brew

The smell of a mother’s caress
The smell of newly weds being blessed

The smell of a lover that lingers on, long after he is gone
The smell of a new dawn…the smell of morn!

The smell of sweat, the smell of toil
The smell of freshly washed clothes on the line

The smell of clear spring water…the smell of snow
The smell of a bee gathering nectar…the scent of a mow!

The smell of a dusty day…the smell of a silent night
The smell of a new born …the smell of life!

Categories: Poems_