Utopia : The Land of My Soul
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Aurora
As it mesmerises me...
The Omnipotent's wrath is pacified,
the rabble rousers have been vanquished,
the stigmatised souls have been purged,
the fear of moral castigation is assuaged,
the furore of bedlam has been nipped.
Now its time for the rosy dawn
to cover up the sham, the shodious face of Heaven with
pallid colours....
It's time for the evanescent freshness to announce the "aurora"
The Omnipotent's wrath is pacified,
the rabble rousers have been vanquished,
the stigmatised souls have been purged,
the fear of moral castigation is assuaged,
the furore of bedlam has been nipped.
Now its time for the rosy dawn
to cover up the sham, the shodious face of Heaven with
pallid colours....
It's time for the evanescent freshness to announce the "aurora"
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
My take on different 'Perceptions'
As a child my world was a booming, buzzing confusion like everyone else's. I had a queer sense of vindicating things. My sense- perception was motored by equally strange ideas. I used to think that everybody, a homogeneous chum irrespective of demographic differentiations, possessed similar take on the nuances of life. Like if one presumed apples to be oranges, the other has to share in the same peception. So my monolithic conception made me paint the world in stark white. To me what was sensible to blurt out before my family, was also worthwhile for others to know.So i endlessly scandalized the senses of the outsiders, thinking that was the smartest thing to do.
We had a neighbour who was preety rotund- just like a round mass of wobbling jelly. And she was really a crackhead and every other day she committed something to prove her loony idiosyncracies. So the tiny boppers of our locality called her 'pagli jethima'(mad aunty). She had of course, her share of coloured and fabricated notions about herself, her perceptions. One of the strongly held conviction was, that she could do better jigs than Madhuri (whom she called Modhuri) and severly framed her with allegations of plagiarism (illegally imitating jethima's style and passing it off as hers own).
Once the maid broached the topic to mum as a part of her daily dose of stories to poke fun and humour mum with her lively histrionics as she faithfully imitated jethima's voice inflexions and ingenious style. I somehow, got to pass by the place of high drama and absorbed whole of the episode as thoroughly as possible, without missing a single part of it. Mum created a blunder inadvertently by saying out loud, that if she( our pagli jethima) pranced on the stage showing off her infamous 'jhatkas', the stage would collapse. My innocent brain thought it was something that jethima should know lest she damaged the stage on which we were supposed to perform during functions.
My mum had the least idea, that i would be so much bothered with it so as to cram the 'essential information' into my head and come out with it straightly. When the next day i caught a glimpse of jethima, i yelled at the top pitch," Jethima, Jethima, you should not dance in our programme beacuse Mum told that our stage would crumble down". Such was the magnitude of my fear of a possible disaster that could spoil our programme, and such was the indisputable faith in mum's predictions that i candidly told what i felt was crucial for her to know. And there she was as enraged as a bull. She abused my mum vilely and condemned me, taking my complaint as an insult to her "curvy figure". (i really wish now that she had at least a curve!)
So that was the outcome of my perception that clashed with my mum's and triggered off fire because somebody else's was made to grovel in lowly dust. I got a clue at a tender age how unnerving and harrassing perceptions can be and to what extent because till now, our 'pagli jethima' rants and rails at my mum.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Nascent wishes
At times I wish I were
An angel who comes in a child's dream and sough sweet nothings;
A bopping butterfly honey-suckling the succour from pretty flowers;
A spiffing silver lining piercing through the nimbus clouds;
A silken tube rose bloomed alone on wet stems fondled by showers;
A raindrop on a parched, limp leaf with specks of dust as embellishments;
A shooting star whizzing past the bedecked night sky for the superstitious;
A smile to lighten up the downcast temples of orphaned babies;
If I were such thousand forms apart from being me, I would have been fascinated by the 'me' because being born as a human being is a bliss --- I can perceive all that the world has to offer and store them in my mind for "recollections in tranquility"
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Creative Muse
something from the heart.......
Still sparks fly,
the white heat of creativity
is no more incandescent.
Hearts cry,
the poet's sword ceases to
scribble pageants.
Voices die,
the myths of mass arousal
has shattered hopelessly.
Minds vie,
the endless strifes against
time and tide mindlessly.
