Saturday, May 03, 2008

yellow submarine

there are times when i surge out of the waters of existence.
and breathe in some air.
i realise am living a subliminal existence.

with so much to learn, do and accomplish somewhere i need to float on these waters than swim under it.

so true beatles were when they sang ' we all live in a yellow submarine'....

Monday, April 07, 2008

Heritage Hysteria

Wonder what some of these posts were doing-sitting idle for all this while. Posting all the stuff resting in the drafts folder...


There were these temples that were built some hundreds of years ago right across the city where I grew up. Ofcourse, I did'nt know of its existence until a year ago. An intent search to see (neglected monuments- nt that i was discovering them even if the feeling was such :) ) places like this took me there. And need I mention the state this wondrous temple was in? Shambles. So one sunday evening the father and daughter duo drove along the raging colors of the setting sun...

Archaelogical Survey of India (ASI) has demarcated it as a site of 'historical importance' and put up a board with its paint chipped off from it. There's nothing much to read about the significance and story of the temple. I craned for information and sought to speak with the temple pujari whose ancestral profession and duty its been, to render worship to the deity of Lord Shiva in this temple. He's worried what will happen to the temple after him. He has no sons, and no one in the family wants to take on the profession of a humble pujari.

It brings me to the point that's been on my mind's horizon, for as long as I think and even more after visiting a few World Heritage Sites - as identified by UNESCO. Does it take a UNESCO to tell us that ancient temples that abound this country are Heritage Sites? Does it take their funds to restore a befitting respect of maintaining these sites? Does it take a 7 wonders Foundation to label a monument?

The lack of cognizance and attention these monuments beget in our lives is shameful to say the least. They are a living testimony to our great heritage.

If each person, every home, every community, every school, college, organisation takes a step forward and builds an awareness of such places in its precincts and instills a pinch of respect- there would be much hope in some restoration of respect to the glory of India that was and in this humility, we will take India back to its glory.

A revolution starts with small steps, it starts WITH YOU and ME.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

Just the way it is...

In this world,
In the contour of every pleasure lurks pain,
In its core, there is void
In every love, there is lack
Every victory, there’s defeat
For every happy song, there is a poignant past and an uncertain future.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Was that a smile... or life itself?

Was that a crack on the frozen river?
To let the waiting water trickle beneath the frozen glass,
To come gushing out and run along, dance along…

Was that a smile?
Or was it the flaming fire, dancing to reach the sky?
Was that a smile?
Or was it the winds, lifting and swaying with it, the whole world?

Was that a smile?
Or victory? Or victor?
Truth?
Or the search for it?
Or was that a mountain that stood tall yet still?
Was it benevolence or was it munificence?

What was it?
Humility to stamp(ede) over?
Or honour to crown?
Was that the glint of wit?
Or the light of wisdom?
Was that patience, perseverance or tolerance?
Was that the sparkle of an idea?
Or was it divine revelation?

Many things can never be understood.
Most others can never be described.
But there are very few things that remain etched forever in the mind’s eye…
Like that smile.

A January Jot

Something I jotted in January...

IN THIS MAZE
I LAZE,
UNABLE TO HANDLE, ALL OF THIS CRAZE.
IT TOTTERS ME IN AN UNHOLY DAZE.
TO COME OUT OF THIS PHASE,
SOMEBODY HELP ME CLEAR THIS GAZE.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

For starters...

For starters, am really glad I got could get onto my blog from my phone. Since Jan '08, i've been lethargically procrastinating getting this done. Or was it some kind of a techno block in my head. All I had to do was call the helplines and this was fixed in half an hour! hmmm... was lik magic unravelling before my eyes as the connection went for verification and then authentication! My uninterested eyes almost popped out :))

I feel so cut-off from the plethora of words and thoughts that i actually am floating in :)

Will be sometime before thoughts and feelings take shape in words. Until then, its a thoughtwarp!

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Chapters and Books

A wise friend says to me- marriage is not like another chapter of life, as most people would put it. Its a new book altogether. That piece of insight coming in around the right time.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

I say to time...

I'l get a hold on you soon, hang on.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

life goes on, uncaptured

much as we try to capture the best moments of life,
in photographs, in words
in our hearts and in our minds...
much of life passes away, uncaptured.
i wonder, what it is that we hold onto.
everything and everyone seems ephemeral.

the more i learn and know of life, the less i seem to know of it.

no, life is not intimidating, its only humbling...

Monday, October 01, 2007

And now, I hear it more than once in a day...


Last year around, the ambulance siren dint go off this often.
Over the last couple of months, I hear the ambulance siren go off atleast 2-3 times a day!
Might sound weird, but what's with so many sirens going off in a day!?

Its almost like my day isnt complete without hearing that heart-displacing siren.


This I jotted last year around...


A damp morning and the waning siren

The morning mist made way for the damp wind.
People chugged along in the daily rut of routine.
Wake up in the morning, rushing for the 10 seconds of green signal waiting for you before a sea of wheels and heads.
I chugged along too, with a watchful eye.
The grey sky, almost colourless, loomed gloom.
The leaves refused to rustle and the wind blew uninhibited.

Some paved the way for others, some for themselves.

Then came along death.
Sounding its siren loud.
Pulling out everybody from the humdrum of thoughts.
The ambulance went ahead,
Trailing behing questions to ask and answers to seek
With its waning siren.

And everybody limped back to their humdrum of thoughts,
As the siren died silent.

Change agents, where are we?

A thought- tomorrow is Gandhi Jayanthi, the birth anniversary of Gandhiji.
I was just wondering if this had come to mean more than just a national holiday.
If all of us were to pledge this one day in nation development, collectively as a nation, the country in its last 60 yrs of independence would have reached another level, probably on a level of refined equality amongst, classes, castes and creed.

Its not too late. Change agents, where are we?

Friday, September 07, 2007

puppet in an evil devil's hand

will anything go right for me?
hardly seems so, nowadays.

the last thing to evince this conviction is a bottle of water slipping off from my hand and getting poured into my laptop!
looked like i was a puppet in some evil devil's hand.

sigh.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Madhavi Mudgal and her troupe from Gandharva Mahavidyalaya



The months gone by...


The months gone by have gone by whizzing... well pretty much. And there's been so much to see and learn. The Krishna Shringar dance festival was awesome to say the least.

A reinforcing, long-believed conviction in the uniqueness of Indian art and culture....

Friday, August 17, 2007

'Art is not like any other profession'

It was absolutely inspiring to be part of an interview with Priyadarshini Govind, the legendary bharatnatyam dancer of our times. It was great to be in the ambience of a person who is situated at a different altitude altogether...

She was very humble in saying... ' Art can look after itself. It does not need people like us. The bad things will grow out... '

And she was so right in saying that ' The arts are not respected enough in India... and that's why its a vicious circle... so many people do not take to it... as its not respected as its not viable enough...

' Art is not like any other profession.. you have to surrender to it... you cant switch off from it when you get home whether one likes it or not...' She feels its the spiritual aspect alone that carry forwards the arts... not the educational and the other aspects...

She's performing at ISKCON Bangalore's annual Indian dance festival ' Sri Krishna Shringar'. She feels that performing in a temple atmosphere is an alotogether a different trip and its sheer beauty to get the right stage...

I really look forward to her performance....

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

When a loved one dies, a world in us dies

There was just one thing numbing my mind all through the afternoon and the night of 20th July. Disbelief.
It was not possible to anticipate how ajja, could have left.
But well, he had.
And that I had not met him for a very long time, painted an emotion very hard to describe.

Restlessness engulfed me, until it was settled that few of us family would travel to siddapur in a private van. Meeting family gives a sense of roots, in some way, and in these circumstances, I was glad to be with family- uncles and cousins.

What started as a journey from Bangalore to Siddapur, was rather a painful trip down memory lane. It brought back in packets, all the other journeys that have been taken from any starting point that meets at Siddapur.. Bangalore to Hubli to Siddapur, Bombay to Hubli to Siddapur. Hubli to Siddapur ofcourse is the one route I could blindly drive, for all the infinite trips we took for occasions like nagpanchmi, ganesha habba, deepavali, new year parties and many visits without the need for one than just going to siddapur...
Driving to Siddapur, was a drive back to the roots, back to home, to puttappan kere, neergudi, back to kith and kin,
back to ajja and ammamma...

The first thing we all did when we reached was meet ajja, touch his feet and hug him. He was a towering figure without being overpowering.

Somehow, Siddapur tantamounts to ajja, and that's not no exaggeration.

My train of thoughts halts at 3 am. We are in Siddapur. At the gate. The silence of the night is engulfing. And what we see- shattering. My dearest grandfather, lays still. And ammmama deareast, bereft of Ajja's life force....

I couldn't contain myself, much as everybody else, all we could do was weep some and some more... the man who touched our lives with unique relationships and equally with his persona, had left with a void, that can never be filled again....

And I jotted these thoughts in (I)as we all sat before him till the dawn of 21st July....


(I)
How still he lay, he lay bold
Body so cold and old
A legend with him lay still.

A life lived so full
So full a life lived.

He lay still, yet so calm
Almost a smile that curves his gentle lip.
A man of word, a man of deed, lay still.

Noon to dusk he lay still.
Flowers all around him.
Tears, all for him.
Those of appreciation and gratitude
For all he did, for all he lived.

Where is he gone from here on… ?
The head-man of this herd, its tusker
… is gone.

Wake up just once
Let me speak to you just once
Let me make you laugh just once
I want to hear that gurgling laugh and hug you
... Just once

(We are all here, together, almost all of us
Wont you share a light moment
And bask in your basket of kids, grandkids and greatgrandkid?)

(II)
His body lay still
Rituals, ceremonies and rites are done unto him
We pour water over him, cold water on his already cold body
The last that I get to touch his feet
Get his blessings, even in death
(And tears wash us, flooding us with memories, his loss and his emptiness)


His body lay still
As he's upheaved on a wooden stretcher
His tonsured-head sons, brave it in white
Never did I see a tear in my father's eye
Now, I see, as his father moves on with life

Rituals, non-descript rituals
That do not tell any tale
They are seemingly embedded in some code
That drudge on the deathly ceremonies

He still, lay still
As his body is adorned, on a sandalwood pyre
Its all set to burn his body to ashes
Log after log, covers him up
Until we have that last and final glance of him
And a slow and steady fire that is flaming the end of an era

Time burns out moment after moment
Leaving us with raging memories in the mind's eye
and photographs for the eye...

(Time is death
It eats the world we make bite by bite
Until the one day when a world in us dies
Cos a loved one has left the world to fragments of memories and photographs...)









Friday, July 27, 2007

Just a dream, in the valley of flowers

Painted with a tint of glow
So many colours these flowers flood
Each flower calling out, with its unique stroke
A sense of being a colour that no other flower is.
That innate sense of being 'one-of-a kind'.

The cool wind wafts the scent of
this illusion
As I float with him
Over the river of colours

In this surreal dreamscape
There's more tranquility than colour
More reality than surrealism
More learning than teaching
All humbling me with the colorscape, prowess of his wisdom and love
The wafting cool winds bend me into an arc
Symbolising the unessential tiny being that's me

I float an ascending note of flight
It glides us, Him and me
(Dreamscape, so real, it makes me think its for real.)

WAKE UP DREAMING SOUL!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

now

swirling in an illusory dance,
smiling to the sky,
cooling rain awakening the senses,
child's play,
happy songs,
memories coming alive,
long live the yesteryears,
dreams fire tomorrow,
for now- some tears,
numbing pain,
a colossal loss

Friday, July 20, 2007

he's no more...

in his felicitation ceremony few yrs ago, he said he had 13 grandchildren, i stood up to say (in that big crowd), ajja u got 14! (my cousins whispered 'he forgot you')).
he kept telling me last few months to come and see him.
and i never did go.
either it was work. or it was some personal chore.
and now he's no more.

i wish i did see him. just once. and now, i can never see him again.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Its time to stay grounded, on the battle-field.
:)