Friday, 30 May 2008

I Am An In-betweener - Hear Me Speak...

Living in-between,
Is never for the realist.
With all its straggling from one end to the other,
It's a game only the idealist can play.

Come hear a confirmed in-between-er speak
Come hear me reveal what it’s like,
To live a life in-between it all,
To exist neither here nor there.

Try I did to stick to one end,
Neither gave me peace,
Neither justified my existence.
Not the way floating in-between did.

That gave me the balance I was not even seeking,
And helped me stay true to my self –
A self that could not choose one over another,
Or lose one to another.

A confirmed in-between-er I am,
A soul floating neither here nor there,
A soul seeking aimlessly,
that which lies in-between -
The Real and the Unreal.
The Truth and the Untruth.

Thursday, 29 May 2008

To Think or Not To Think...

I am said to think too much. Perhaps it's true - to a certain extent.

I can't remember when I started this obsession with thoughts - probably when I was much younger - when thinking was seen as a healthy exercise, and was "falsely" seen as proper. Yeap, I have come to realise now, as I step into the 39th year of my existence, that my fondness for thinking, and the hundreds of thousands of thoughts the activity had generated over the years...are no longer allies, but are my follies.

Poor Rodin. Wonder if he knew this when he created THE THINKER. A nude man in deep thoughts battling with a powerful inner struggle must have been fashionable then, perhaps even philosophical. Powerful inner struggle = paranoia? I wonder. Well, go figure life!

Having thought things over, I hereby take a solemn oath to stop all thoughts and to stop thinking altogether. From now on I shall act rashly with absolutely no regard for consideration, and shall live as impulsively as life will ever take me. Afterthoughts too are banned entirely. Having said all that, I shall remain in all calmness as empty headed as I can ever be :)

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

Tis You Alone I Trust...

The last time I went blank in the head,
Twas not the lord I seeked,
Instead, I called upon the one - who like me,
Had no filter between his brain and his mouth.
Hail O Calvin I cried.
And in a flash he came,
Soaring with his wings of imagination.
And placed upon my head his tiny little hand,
And passed upon me,
all the wisdom his tiny six year old brain ever had within.

Ah - the ecstasy of thinking with a six-year-old mind.

How wilfully I bequiled my writing faculty thereafter,
With the many tricks my manaseega guru zapped into my brain.
Thoughts I had many,
None of which I had really thought over.
They rolled forth as they were,
Untouched by the hypocrisy of conformity.

Ah - the ecstasy of writing with a six-year-old mind.

Where has thou disappeared to, O Great One?
Were you frightened away by the recent hullabaloo in my life,
That forcefully dragged me into the other side of life,
(much unlike the one you and i know to be real)'
One in which I had to act the adult that I am supposed to be,
Adulterating the very principles you and I hold close to our hearts.

Come do your zapping bit once more, won't you Calvin?
I cannot go on this way -
All blank in the head.
My blog as barren of posts
...as my mind is of ideas.

Come soaring O Great One,
Tis you alone I trust.

Friday, 23 May 2008

Blinded by Truth...

The blind one woke up one day to find,
that her eyes could finally see,
all that she wanted to ever see.

The blind one was elated.
That all the dreams she had dreamt for decades,
would no longer remain mere dreams...

The blind one swam in her ecstasy.
The blind one relished it all.
The blind one felt utterly blessed.

Days passed, and one day, the blind one got restless,
She couldn't understand it at all.
She sobbed - as she closed her eyes that one night...

The blind one woke up the next day,
to find that the world had come to a standstill.
And darkness was everywhere in sight.

Thinking that the world around her had gone blind,
The blind one got up, and went on with her life.
Believing that the world had indeed lost it...

And that she alone had not.

Wednesday, 7 May 2008

Happy Birthday, My Good Sir...


O Bearded One...

Your name I have heard from my early days.
But all I knew then was that,
You were this majestic looking man.
Your name was Rabindranath Tagore,
And yes - that you wrote poetry.
A line here, a stanza there -
I read as I dabbled in poetry, as I analysed them.
But understand you I could not,
Not for the life of me, I could.

But now - as I read your poems
Your message reaches me as voluntarily as breeze.
Leaving me soothed, refreshed, and pleasantly surprised.
I asked myself many times,
How could something so complex suddenly appear simple.
Just now, just as I started writing to you,
The answer came upon me.
Like the very breeze -
You have been sending to touch my face, of late.

I can almost hear you answer me -
In the breezy way you do in your poems.
Of why you had stood at a distance -
as I was reaching out to touch you.
True, my good sir,
How could I have known and understood you then,
When all I did was to analyse you.
Can divinity ever be analysed?
Can wisdom ever be studied?

How inappropriately ignorant I had been.

But you see, my dear sir,
It was not until recently that I started living poetry,
And that is why,
It was not until recently that I really understood you.
I know now sir,
That you only speak your breezy language,
To those who reach out to you from the heart,
To those who wish to feel you without any pretence.

And to those you will send -
Your breezy wisdom,
That you so beautifully crafted into lyrical masterpieces.

Happy Birthday, my good sir,
My loving wishes to you.

Sunday, 4 May 2008

On Giving Unconditionally...

I was leaving after withdrawing money at an ATM near where I live. A middle-aged indian man caught my eyes and asked if I could help him use the machine. I obliged, and asked him how much was he planning to withdraw. RM 10, he answered taking me by surprise. Not that I thought nothing of RM 10 which can easily buy one a decent meal, small though its value may be in the present day. But people hardly withdrew RM 10 from ATMs these days. ATMs too are not RM10-friendly here - request for a single RM 10 note and you will find a message on the screen that they only dispense RM 50 notes.

And so, after telling him that, I was going to suggest that he withdrew RM 50 instead when I turned to the screen and found a message that said his balance wasn't sufficient. I told him the machine could not dispense the RM 10, and he responded with a blank look on his face. There was no sign of disappointment in the man. He just took the card, thanked me and walked away.

I tell you, I was so tempted to offer him a RM 10 note - but stopped myself because I did not want to hurt his ego. What if he got offended? Even as I got into my car and saw him at the carpark getting on his bike, I wanted so much to give him the RM 10. Again, my fear of offending him stopped me and I drove away. My heart reached out to him despite the fact that I had smelt alcohol in his breath as he talked to me. Yeah, he could have desperately needed the RM 10 for a quick booze. He probably had drunk all his cash away, thus the insufficient balance. He could be dying because of the amount of alcohol he had been consuming all these while.

He could be this and that. But he needed that RM 10 and I could have given it him.

People tell me all the time - don't encourage addicts by giving them money when they ask you. But really - is an alcoholic or an addict any less a person than he was before he became one? Who am I to decide what's right for him? What is right and wrong really? Yeah drinking is bad, and I would not encourage anyone to, being a teetotaler myself. But my rationale is - when one approaches me for help, I would help regardless of the background of his request. My duty - in fact one of the reasons for my existence, is to help - and when approached I believe in doing that unconditionally.

I wish the man at the bank had looked a little longer at me to reassure me that he needed the money. I wish I had asked him at least with my eyes if he needed further help. Had I tried, I am sure he would have responded with an answer though his eyes, glassy though they appeared...

Every man is involuntarily urged to act by the qualities which spring from nature. He who remains inert, restraining the senses and organs, yet pondering with his heart upon objects of sense, is called a false pietist of bewildered soul. But he who having subdued all his passions performeth with his active faculties all the duties of life, unconcerned as to their result, is to be esteemed. Do thou perform the proper actions: action is superior to inaction.

He who, sinfully delighting in the gratification of his passions, doth not cause this wheel thus already set in motion to continue revolving, liveth in vain.

He hath no interest either in that which is done or that which is not done; and there is not, in all things which have been created, any object on which he may place dependence. Therefore perform thou that which thou hast to do, at all times unmindful of the event; for the man who doeth that which he hath to do, without attachment to the result, obtaineth the Supreme.

Even if the good of mankind only is considered by thee, the performance of thy duty will be plain; for whatever is practiced by the most excellent men, that is also practiced by others. The world follows whatever example they set.

But the wise man also seeketh for that which is homogeneous with his own nature. All creatures act according to their natures; what, then, will restraint effect? In every purpose of the senses are fixed affection and dislike. A wise man should not fall in the power of these two passions, for they are the enemies of man. It is better to do one's own duty, even though it be devoid of excellence, than to perform another's duty well. It is better to perish in the performance of one's own duty; the duty of another is full of danger.

Throwing every deed on me, and with thy meditation fixed upon the Higher Self, resolve to fight, without expectation, devoid of egotism and free from anguish.


(Excerpts from Bhagavad Gita)


Friday, 2 May 2008

A Song That Walked Through My Being...

I look straight at you - unable to move,
My body frozen - mind alert.

You enter through my eyes - in a flash of light.
And - with that same flash of light burning bright within you,
You find your way within me.

Walking through the dense jungle within,
You - totally unfazed,
Slash your way through,
Bent on clearing that which stands in your way.

And I - frozen as I already am,
Watch you walk within me, toward me,
Your hands and feet hard at work,
But your eyes - steadily looking into mine,
Hypnotising me into a meditative trance,
Drumming into my mind, heart and soul,
Your powerful sparks of wisdom -
Infusing within my nerves -
Your radical Puthiya Aathisudi.











achcham thavir.mp3

Download it at mp3space.com

That's Life For You...




My Songs Taught Me Lessons and Showed Me Secret Paths...




Ever in my life have I sought thee
with my songs. It was they who led
me from door to door, and with them
have I felt about me, searching and
touching my world.

It was my songs that taught me all
the lessons I ever learnt; they showed
me secret paths, they brought before
my sight many a star on the horizon of
my heart.

They guided me all the day long to
the mysteries of the country of
pleasure and pain, and, at last, to
what palace gate have they brought
me in the evening at the end of my
journey ?


Gitanjali-101

Rabindranath Tagore

Thursday, 1 May 2008

In the Honeyed Calmness of Your Mellifluous Voice, I Lose Myself...

I know not what your song is about,
I know not what the mood of the song is.
With a voice as divine as yours,
Need one know anything at all,
Except to just lose oneself,
In the honeyed calmness of your mellifluous voice...