20 February, 2007

M

Fleeting touches.

As vague as the wings of dead moths
The dew-drop laden handiwork
Of the spider at dawn . . .

The light blushes the Eastern sky
The argentiferous heaps of cumulus . . .
Like the riders of dawn
On fire-fettered steeds of air.

The world beckons
And to hearken
Is to be entranced.

This is the time for loftiness
When the wings of time
Harshness in black and white
Plied with morning and the Night
Ensconces the mind that rises
As if there are no fences facing
'Scept the limitless heavens.

To cast aside the grimy garb
Of hum-drum life and thoughts
And clad in albus robes that shine
Transcend all shadows that are facing.

Fleeting touches.
An instant or was it
An eternity?
To be lost
In the cool pools
Of calm eyes:
Balm to weary hearts.
The wistful smile
belies the dancing spirit;
That gives and hoards not,
Molded in grace, sanctum
Most high, my Temple

My highest reverence,
My deepest commitment
My loftiest desire . . .
Shall you not turn
On hearing my clarion call
Hastening to your aid?



They lay flowers on the graves of dear ones. In my usual reasoning mind, I never fully knew why. The dead are beyond the reach of fragrance, or even the desire.
It's not that I understand it any better. Just that I feel myself capable of doing so.

When you lie, you steal a person's right to the truth - Khaled Hosseini.

I feel few comprehend my motives in entirety. Its nothing abt being exclusive or different, just my inability to express myself gently. A person swore that it was entirely his "business if I have to stick my neck out for you. You haven't asked, and you don't need to."
I felt gratified. But also felt that I had to tell him the truth. Thus, I replied, "Truthfully, I wouldn't do the same for you."

A year. And I shall be losing my oldest friend, a coeval in mind and spirit. The present burdens seem meaningless, and I cannot wait for the exams to end. End they shall.
And end to all things?
Hard to accept.

My deepest reverence.
My loftiest desire . . .

05 February, 2007

Random spirals

I remember when all this will be again.

And I have relearned what I always knew to be true: there is no reality but that in which we believe.
That words are nothing but trolleys that convey the unsaid. That silence speaks the most between very old friends. That speech is there only to hide the mind.
What are we if we cannot stand by what we believe?
I have lived for some time, and yes, I've lived it to the full, at least to my eyes. I have gotten drunk on joy, and reeled in the throes of anguish. The darkness is necessary so that we love the light the more when it shines out.
O Elbereth Gilthoniel...
We remember we who dwell
In this far land beneathe the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas.
(JRR Tolkien)
I have longed for the departure for long. But before that Mordor must fall. And I must always remain as I am.
Feeling inordinately thankful for the friends that I am fortunate enough to possess; and the dear enemies who add the spice.

Also a sense of benison for those Xaverians soon to leave the portals so dear. To quote Arindomovitch's dad,"You are leaving Xavier's, probably never to return again. But remember, Xavier's will never leave you till the end of your life."

A brief interlude

Yes, it'll be brief people, I promise.

Simply not getting enough time to write properly on the blog. Not that writing in itself is stymied. I wrote an essay for the Commonwealth prize, on "Migration".
However that, and everything else (including template changes) can only be put into effect after the 2nd of March. Nowhere as portentious as the ides, but then I did my best.
Had the time of my life lounging in Salt Lake, slobbering over my host's poster of Frederico Fellini's "La Dolce Vita". His room and my happening to be there with my cousins is another story, and a fateful one at that.
At long last, I was returned my copy of "The Seventh Seal". Missed it like anything.

And people, I confess: I couldn't understand Kafka's "The Trial." Frank admission here.
The sun's shining, a dog's shuddering satisfiedly near a lamp-post, people are chattering inanely behind me, a person is intently exploring his nostrils; in short the cosmos seems to be doing what we believe its supposed to do. And ARC is departing.
At the risk of sounding cliched, I'll be back.

Welcome visitor!