May 11, 2013

The words unsaid...

An ode to that girl at Director's Dinner...

With my wolfpack I sat, eating and grunting and laughing, like a wolfpack might
She entered from the other end, gliding through the air, such a lovely sight
The crowd stood between us, yet I saw her gleaming, fairer than a snowflake
So beautiful and serene she was, though I ignored her, as well as I could fake
For it was a party, she was popular, and my wolfpack sat with me,
I wanted to stand and take her hand, and confess to her, but instead I chose to flee
And while she roamed the lawns, the queen of all, my heart stood shattered
For the words unsaid, the tale untold, because those words could have mattered
The epitome of beauty, with a heart so pure, never could she have snubbed me
If only I showed the courage, the will to confess, and not hurriedly took leave
Without the final adieu I went, watching her, as her friends took their places
To her side, a place that was mine, but instead filled by unknown faces
It was resolve I lacked, afraid of the future, afraid of defeat, afraid of pain
But with the silent goodbye, my future defined, I know I shall never see her again
A burden I shall carry, throughout my life, wondering what could have been
With you in my arms, a song on my lips, a new life won with a lover’s win.

http://archuscribbles.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/love_lost_by_genevi143.jpg

April 30, 2013

Shakespeare in Love


Saw the movie late into the night. Then saw it some more. The poet in me woke, and here is a piece by your's truly:

I dreamt of you in your majesty, rising from east, like morning’s bloom
But the dream was to end unfinished, as reality cast its doom
I looked for you when I woke, in songs, in books, and in plays
But every time you fade and float away, as reality webs its ways
The songs never suffice, nor the books nor the plays
The love they weave is a shadow, not one to last till end of days
In their illusions I rejoiced, aye! And danced like a lover might
But as they end, I see me, being stranded alone for all nights
Of the glorious song ending, and you, becoming a memory again
Untouched, unheard, unreal and such a sweet pain
You torture me whilst I sleep, yet I yearn for it awake
What spell have you cast on me sorceress, that I dare not break?
You come to me faceless, yet only you I see where eyes may go
You I dream, you I see, and you I shall have, if destiny wills it so
By night I fear, to lose you with morning as the sun claims
By day I long for night, to hold you, and kiss you again
It is a story to be mocked, a fool and his lover’s quest
But one day we shall embrace, your heart beating next to my chest
And Then I shall see your face, gleaming as its beauty shames the moon
And with sun we shall rise, together, a dream fulfilled
And that day shall be my boon.

http://bloggingshakespeare.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/ShakespeareinLove.jpg

November 14, 2012

When the Gods caught Fire

“Jay, go and wake Tauji, it’s time for the aarti.”
“Coming Ma!”
Jay went to his uncle’s room. His uncle always slept on the folding cot, even though there was a perfectly good bed in the room. He never quite got his uncle’s logic.
“It helps with my back pains,” he said.
“Then let me remove the mattress from the bed, it will be the same.”
“But the cot is closer to the window!”
“I can move the bed wherever you want”
“Oh bacche, let’s go do the Aarti first. We can decide on the bed later.”
“Tauji is coming Maa!”, Jay shouted, then went upstairs to turn on the lights. The entire house lit in red as the Chinese lights flickered to life. He came back to the mandir. His mother was arranging all the diyas, putting the money between them, and making the swastika.
“That is the wrong swastika. You made a straight Z. It’s the opposite.”
“You correct the swastika then, I’ll go see where your Tauji and father are,” his mother said.
“They are coming! You just correct the swastika, I’ll go get Guddu.”

After around half an hour of hustling by Jay and shouting by Guddu, she finally came to the mandir. It is not easy getting kids away from crackers, especially when they have a bucket full of them left.
“Can I eat that?”
Guddu’s first words when coming to the mandir was to ask if she could eat the Milk and Jalebi prasada. Mom didn’t allow it, so she threw another of her tantrums.
“Jay! Jay!! Turn off your phone now and take Guddu from here!! And find your father and Tauji!” Mom clearly had too much to handle.

“Hey Guddu, I’ll make you a deal. You go and find Tauji, then when Mom isn’t around, I’ll let you have a piece of the prasada before the Pooja,” He offered her. It wasn’t his first time controlling his sister, and he knew how he could tempt her. Eyes sparkling with a prospect of sweets earlier than others, Guddu ran to find her father and uncle. Jay went back to his phone.

“Meena, take this photo too. Add it to the mandir,” Ramesh gave his wife a photo of the three gods, Ganesh, Lakshmi and Saraswati,  taken from a newspaper daily. He had carefully cut the sponsor’s ads in the bottom.
“But I can’t tape it to the wall, there’s no tape in the house. Besides, we already have a picture of all these three in the mandir.”
“Yes, but I spent half an hour trying to cut the ads from the bottom! Jay, come here. Keep holding it so it won’t fall on the diya,” Ramesh gave Jay the picture, carefully setting the picture between the Pooja Thaal containing the diyas, and the wall.
“But dad…”
“Shhh…. Here, See? Now the photo won’t fall if you keep this corner tucked in your shirt’s cuffs. Come on now, start the pooja Meena! Where’s that pamphlet with the different aartis?”

“Athshubhb Samvat Shri NripatiVeer Vikramaditya Rajya Samvat 2068…”
“Dad, you are reading today’s calendar date from the pamphlet! This isn’t an aarti!”
“No that’s okay. I saw punditji read the date before he starts the Pooja. Now don’t disturb me.”
“Okay, sorry.”
“…Shaka Shali Vaha Nasya 1933 Maso Tame Masya Kaartika Maasya Krishna Pakshe Amavasya Budhwar 46-50 chitra nakshatra 27-35 pal vishka yog 29-28, pal choh karan 21-48, tula arka Kaartik parvishthe 19 tadanusar Budhwar 26-10-2011”
“That is the date of last year’s diwali dad!”
“ Yeah I know… now Budhwar, no Mangalwar, what is the date today?”
“13 November 2012”
“Right… Kaartik parvishthe 19 tadanusar Mangalwar 13 november 2012. Shubh Dipawali.”

As the Aartis kept going, with his father stammering on the long Sanskrit words, his Tauji filling the diya with oil at every chance he got, Guddu sitting quietly in her mother’s lap, and his mother keeping his father motivated by reading alongside him, neither Jay nor the rest of his family understood much of the Aartis. Soon his mother grabbed a diya, put it on her palm, and started praying to each god with it. His father followed, and then did Tauji and Guddu.
“Jay, take this Diya, and there is a photo of your grandparents in the living room. Go and pray to them.”

Jay stood up and put out his hand. Guddu placed the diya on it. Suddenly, his Tauji started shouting. Then his mother quickly moved forward, his father stopped her and took her place, trying to grab something near Jay’s feet. He looked down, and saw that the photo of the Gods taken from the newspaper had fallen on one of the diyas, catching fire.

There was no water in Mandir. Guddu quickly grabbed what seemed like a water bottle to her. Tauji quickly took it and jerked her away.
“That’s Gangajal bacche. It is pure, not to be wasted here.”

Meanwhile, his father was trying hard to put out the fire with his hands. By the time the flames stopped, Goddess Lakshmi had vanished, and God Ganesh’s belly was reduced to half. Tauji calmed down, and his mother stopped looking for water.

Jay stood stunned, not quite understanding what had happened. Tauji put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, let’s start the Pooja again.”
“But Bhaisahab, he is always so careless, never…”
“It’s okay Ramesh. Bacche hain. Give me the photo, I’ll bury it with the Tulsi plant. Let’s start the Pooja again.”

Tauji took the photo from Ramesh, carefully folded it, and put it in his shirt pocket. Guddu, who was silent till then, whispered in her mother’s ears, “Will I get double prasada for double Pooja?”
“Okay sweetie, you take double,” her mom replied.
“Then can I take half of my double now?” she asked innocently.

Tauji was overhearing this. He lifted Guddu in his arms, took the bowl of prasada, and fed her a spoonful.
“Don’t you worry bacche. You don’t have to sit for the second Pooja. You and your brother can play outside, while we elders do the Pooja again.”

Ramesh kept looking dumbstruck at his elder brother. Meena started arranging the diyas again. Jay went back to his phone, and Guddu to her crackers.

And the Diwali celebrations continued....

October 22, 2012

Dexter

How would the story of a serial killer (and a real close look at his modus operandi) make you feel? Disgusted? Nauseated? Enthused?

Dexter is now in its 7th season. But buried in all his kills, the only time I felt the show potent and piercingly strong was when Rita was killed. I have seen many episodes, many series, and seen them multiple times. Save the episodes of Dexter with Rita in them. Seeing them once was a drop of heaven. A salutation to the good in the world. After she died, they became a cursed memory. Every thought of her now reminds me of her final scene, of her son Harrison sitting next to her. She was sitting in the bathtub, silent and serene, may be sleeping. Harrison was crying next to her. There was blood filling the bathtub, blood spilling out of it to the floor, to Harrison. She had gone.

I was in shock for a full day. After I finally got used to the thought that Rita was dead, I could concentrate. But going to the next episode took me a whole year to accomplish.

I couldn't talk of it to anyone till today. It is still painful.
I can't watch her episodes still.

October 6, 2012

Killer Queen

Hard to believe the same person wrote the lyrics of Killer Queen, as well as Bohemian Rhapsody.
Stumps me every time!


Killer Queen Lyrics
She keeps Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
'Let them eat cake' she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Kruschev and Kennedy
At anytime an invitation
You can't decline

Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice

She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable in appetite
Wanna try?

To avoid complications
She never kept the same address
In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness
Met a man from China
Went down to Geisha Minah
Then again incidentally
If you're that way inclined

Perfume came naturally from Paris
For cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise

She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild
She's all out to get you

She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, guillotine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
You wanna try

October 5, 2012

Debates and Indian Elections

You have to give in to the American system sometimes, even though the calls to despise it are overwhelming. This time, it was the Presidential Debate in Denver, where Mitt Romney and Barack Obama fought over their own disparate views about the same goals and in Obama's words, how the difference of budget choices demonstrates differences in personalities. Critics of both, Obama and Romney, as well as the moderator, Jim Lehrer, are now judging their performances and pointing out the fallacies in their models, in their claims, and their allegations. Surprisingly, the whole time all I could think about was how different this point to point and factual representation of views was from the platitudes of abstract statements that our own politicians make when they stand up for elections. Everytime elections come up, auto rickshaws fitted with megaphones that should have been obsolete by now, makes round of residential colonies announcing that the Government has promoted Gunda-Raj, and all their policies are aimed at securing profits for big industries and their own commissions  if they are the opposition, or how the government has benefitted the poor, and made the middle class grow, and provided new industries and jobs, if they are the government. One would think such claims would be bolstered by facts in the many rallies the candidates have. Instead, the candidates focus on personal vendettas besides reiterating these claims again. A modicum of facts are presented, and much like the show with the chair presented by Clint Eastwood at the Republican National Convention, almost everything is aimed at entertaining crowd at the expense of the opponent. Humor is surely a good thing when addressing people but a trifle overview of your own plans would always be welcome along with it. In the few times that debates were actually held by news channels, the candidates sent their representatives instead of themselves, and the direct personal allegations again obviate the needs of facts. The best and perhaps the only informative "discussion" happens when the candidates are interviewed separately by news channels. Though we get a small look at the respective policies, these interviews are neither impartial, nor structured to allow for a fair review of the options presented before us. If Obama would be contesting in India, he would spend the entire debate on foreign policy, while Romney would spend it entirely on the present economy. I don't think I have ever seen equal weights given to Sonia Gandhi's views on development as well as her views on the secular credentials of Narendra Modi. Similar is the case for Modi, he would repeat again and again the 'Amul' model that was in place and succeeding even before him, but not comment on the recent conviction of his party members in sedition case. The fact that the only source of information on these candidates is these personal interviews, choosing one among them is far more difficult than I had hoped for. Each candidate here claims to be the better choice, but all we are presented with as evidence are bits to sniff.

I have been over the voting age for three years now, but this could be the first time I get to vote, come 2013. I wouldn't want my vote to go just on these obscured facts presented by the candidates. We have a system in place, that has been running for far too long. We also have a system that seems a better alternative. Is it so hard to make a choice?

The video of the Obama-Romney debate is shared. See for yourself, how stark the contrast between the two different approaches at campaigning are!


October 3, 2012

Innocence of Muslims


A friend of mine, fretting over the maelstrom of news in media over the violent protests in Islamic nations, as well as our secular state of India, came to my room and started his tirade on the irascible temperament of Muslims, and the rationale of violent protests when their Quran proscribes it. I only had to point to his own affections towards his girlfriend that fueled a cataclysm of emotions whenever any derogatory or lascivious comment is made against her. How then could he expect a silent response from every member of a massive community whose entire faith has been mocked? It seems that placated his anger, but I don't expect his doubts have permanently subsided. Though put in abeyance for now, with the continuing surge of anti-Muslim articles in the media, it is definitely laying the groundwork for revisiting Islamophobia, in India and the world.

It seems it all started with the Channel 4's airing of the documentary, "Islam: The Untold Story"(ITUS). Protests were made, both online and in rallies, but this academic work was soon forgotten, as a new video, "Innocence of Muslims" (IOM) surfaced with scenes that intentionally deride the Prophet and Islam. In ITUS, the narrator expresses his doubts over the morality of his endeavors  Over and over he asserts that his conclusions are meant to be taken as an outsider's account and analysis of the Muslim history, and not of doctor prescribing a remedy. But with the ITUS being the harbinger of dissents, and the rapid dissemination of IOM, to an outsider like my friend who hasn't seen either of the movies and is only following the current affairs, the credentials of ITUS seem admixed with the derogations of IO, and thus the misgivings of the latter seem well founded. These aspersions seem so legitimate to him that he wouldn't heed a logical reasoning even if it danced around him naked. And I am afraid he might not be the only one!

All religious groups in an effort to protect and spread their faith engender radical cliques. Be it the Crusaders or Zealots of old, the Khalistan militia in the 1970-80s or the recent Kandhamal riots by Hindu hardliners. With the large followings of some religions, it becomes imperative that some of its members would take the violent path to sustain themselves. The importance and media glare given to the Islamic faction of this extremist collage has started to serve as a self-fulfilling prophecy, with more protests being fueled and by the causal existing ones. Endorsing such violence in any religion is disparaging the beliefs of humanity, and thus no religion does that. But it has to be understood that the Muslim anger, even if aggravated and incommensurate, is not entirely misplaced. The death of the US Ambassador in the juvenile democracy of Libya is the work of an opportunistic terrorist group. But to portray it as a generic Muslim reaction is preposterous. Just as the US filmmaker has taken shelter under the broad definition of freedom of speech in the US Constitution, the protests against the movie should also be covered in the same category. Over the years with the continuous depiction of the violent protests of Muslim hardliners, such a response has become synonymous with any outburst of anger from the community. The media can help allay this pain, but it doesn't. When news of protests comes from every Islamic nation, the Muslim organisations in India also jump on the bandwagon to encash the sad affair. And these violent protests, no more than a mere political stunt, are mislabeled as encompassing a wider public belief. My friend came to me seeing such a protest in Srinagar take a violent turn. When I said it was called by Hurriyat chairman Syed Geelani, he refused to acknowledge the connection. To him a political agenda is a derivative of populist motives. To me such misgivings are partly the reason why religious fanatics even with their sad opinions are able to sustain their lives in the public glare, because people like my friend don't understand that these high religious and political leaders are alone in their tirades.

The recent turn of events has been regrettable. This obtrusive destruction of property and the loss of lives is certainly against the canons of humanity. But to perceive and blame the whole Muslim community, just because they protest is unfortunate. The real culprits are the opportunists who strive to disrupt normal life and foment masses for their own personal gains. Such people are not Muslims, not religious at all. But when media portrays them as such, it only helps to elevate the situation. As a complete outsider, it all seems much like how the fictitious time-travelers live in the same timeline they help create.

We have to stop these generalizations  these misappropriating events to the entire community. I believe in the innocence of humanity, no matter what is being portrayed!