Saturday, May 12, 2012

Mist and Overcast


Then in a picturesque hilltop...

It was the day of my life when I saw you on the earth.
You were running hurriedly like the secret lover,
trying to hide from the early risers.

But you did not realize
that the sun had shown you flee, hastily past me.
Forgive me please, if I had embarrassed you.
But, I really did not mean to.

You were out of the world and I could not help
staring at you, stealthily, and breathing every bit of you.
When you looked back and caressed me,
the million on my skin went on a high.
When you passed through me,
you took apart a piece that I am still in search of.

And now in the maddening city...

When I look back, you are seen nowhere.
Won't you play an encore and honor my yearnings?
My senses are ever filled with your bubbly cheer,
even though there is always blue all around you.

The other day, I was roaming on the streets,
And you were drifting around, in bunches.
My eye, or was it my mind, saw a panoramic view.
It perceived you to be a spectator,
gathered around an arena,
watching a mad rushing herd
returning home, after running their rat races.
 

Started on: Apr 27, 2009
Closed on: Apr 26, 2012

Saturday, May 05, 2012

Mistake


Many a man who falls in love with a dimple make the mistake of marrying the whole girl.
~ Evan Esar

Friday, April 27, 2012

I hope you learn




To reach home safely
even if 
you go behind butterflies,
chasing them with glee
and excitement.

To not fret and just think
even if
you have missed 
your one footwear
in the middle of a busy road.

To rise up from the earth
using your own hands, 
because
I may not be around every time,
to lift you.

To deal with annoyances
with a cool head
because 
you would only then find
which ones last or die,
and to put them to rest.

To find joyous playmates
because
play is knowledge 
camouflaged as fun,
and teaches sustenance
and selflessness.

To not sulk over trifles 
because
brooding is contagious 
but, experience 
can make a mountain 
out of a molehill.

To find solace in music
even if
you are hard of hearing
others and self,
because it anoints, 
soothes and heals.

To get to know books
because, even if 
you do not earn yourself much,
and when your friends 
are out of reach,

Books are precious assets,
And they make good friends.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

The leaf in my mind


On an uneventful day
as the vehicles rushed past,
a withered leaf landed on my lap,
in an almost end-of-life state,
like the sapped Jesus 
on mother Mary's lap.


I held the leaf on my four fingers,
looked at the translucent strands--
short and long, from head to tail,
embedded inside it,
sprawling on the green bed.


In one instance, it looked like 
a slender lizard arching 
towards its right limbs.
At another, it looked like
the bones of an entire fish.


I held the leaf 
and looked at it 
as if it were my baby, and
a tender feeling came over me.


I held the leaf 
and carressed it with my thumb
like feeling my beloved's hand
and I asked myself: Was I in love again?

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Translation of Kangal Neeye from Muppozhudhum Un Karpanaigal

A mellifluous melody 
You are my eyes and the zephyr as well.
You are the pillar and you are in every particle.
You are the colors and the sky's splendour.
You are my flesh and my soul.
A thousand night's dream and a dream come true.
You are the avenger of my sorrows.
I melted down myself to shape you up,
you are all me and nothing else. 
I held your face as my slate,
kissed it a thousand times
and wrote a beautiful sonnet.
You used your drool, the sacred water,
as a correction tool
to make improvements to it.
This minute, I wished you grew up and held me.
The very next moment, I wished you shrunk down
and remain an infant.
Like the robe swinging on my shoulders
you swing on your crib all day forever.
You are the first scholar
to speak in a multitude of languages.
Better than the musical genius, the king of Lanka,
you are my son, the maestro,
who makes music out of your gibberish.
Before I moved myself,
I saw my heavens in your dimpled cheeks.
Before i twitched myself, I gave my entire self
for that silken feel at my grip. 
When I see you have moved away from me,
I fret, and wish to get you back to my fetus.
 
The life is a long path... Shelter your journey
with the cerulean sky as your shack.
 
With those murals, you are my Ravi Varma.
During your hunger pangs,
you are mankind's mystery,
who takes refuge in a mother.
You are any mother's swelling pride.
Leap a bunch of seas, and hundreds of mounts,
'cos I bore you doing so.
Hope you live a thousand years, outlasting aches
and with resistance to pandemics,
and conquering boundless boundaries.

Started on: Jan 04, 2012
Closed on: Apr 06, 2012


This is the longest that I have ever taken to translate/render a song from Tamil to English. Term the song as mesmerizing, beautiful, simple yet strong, moving, fascinating--all  credit goes to G V Prakash Kumar, Thamarai, and the singer Sittara for their wonderful job! Every aspect of this song has held me back and has stunned me everytime I try to get to work on this.

Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Discomfort


I am hanging around
like that
dangling sweat drop
around the nose edges.
Won't you quickly absorb me 
inside the tissue of yours?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Begin it.


Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. 
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!
~ Goethe

Friday, March 23, 2012

The providence moves too...


Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: 

that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too.

~ W. H. Murray in The Scottish Himalaya Expedition, 1951

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Book Review - Life of Pi


You would have noticed that it is always the stories with themes such as 'rags to riches' or 'victory of the good over evil' that reach the top and stay there, with the central theme being the age-old Darwin-ism theory—survival and that too only of the fittest. Life of Pi is a survival story. Not to mention the fact that with about three-fourth of the movies that are made are based on the man-woman relationship, it is the packaging and presentation that is taking the center stage. And though we have heard a thousand survival stories, yet Yann Martel has packaged it so well that you forget yourself and immerse in the same clichéd theme of the book.

Even though the Life of Pi is a fiction, somewhere in the first quarter of the book, Yann Martel makes you believe that it is a biography of someone (Pi) who was born in Pondicherry, India, grew up till his teens, with a zoo in his backyard, and with the political scene in India becoming unstable (the 1977 Emergency Declaration), the family along with a few animals that remained behind, after most of the zoo inhabitants being sold off, boards a Japanese cargo ship to Canada.

After this act of making you believe, all the action takes place in the 227 days that runs between the day the vegetarian Pi gets into the sea as a castaway in a 27-feet life-boat with a hungry, carnivorous, 450-pound Bengal Tiger and till the day he lands in Mexico, weather-beaten and in one piece. In these 227 days, there are times of delirium, dread, delight, discovery, deprivation, dilapidation, desperation, desolation, darkness, divine interventions, dinginess, and damnation. Pi who has lost everything, his kith and kin, overcomes everything and survives.

Moments of faith and belief are splashed at the right dose and the right time and it is this belief that makes you cling to the novel and move forward catching hold of the link one after another, but at a slow pace. During the times when you think the links are falling apart (you losing interest), it is this belief that bonds you together with the story.

At certain places, you get the idea that a few facts about the South-Indian culture are a bit incoherent (just 2% of the entire story telling). But, overall, this book is a great read, no doubt about it!!

The book ‘Life of Pi‘ is about 10 years old now. However, this fact does not stop from being reviewed or being recognized as a good read. There is much more that I picked from this piece of fiction, I mean, a lot of takeaways for the life of 'anyone'!

Friday, March 09, 2012

The sandwich and the strange shopkeeper incident


Today morning, after the porridge at about 9:30 in the morning, I was starving so much and did not want to have an immediate lunch. I have started liking 2:30 lunch these days, not sure why. While in two minds on whether to binge on something or not, I decided I must to continue with the tradition of the 2:30 lunch. So, I go to the sandwich shop and place an order for the second least expensive and still a palatable item: chilly garlic veg. sandwich for Rs. 20/- This guy was not the usual two that are seen in the kiosk and after some loitering around the cafeteria, I knew why--the others were having their brunch.


While the sandwich was being prepared, I wanted to catch up on a juice. So, I ordered for a plain (no sugar no ice) papaya juice. After the papaya juice went inside, I took the sandwich, covered it with another paper plate, and left the cafeteria. So far so good! And then I decide to walk up the stairs, primarily because only recently my mind happened to process what my eyes had seen-Think of these as your aerobic steps. Climbing two flights of stairs makes you lose up to 2 kilos per year if you take the stairs daily. 


Before that, a note on the floor arrangement: ‘There are three floors as per the lift and the naming, but with a mezzanine floor. The staircase design is of the usual zigzag pattern: one ascending from south to north and the other ascending from north to south. The steps between the ground and first floor have eight steps on the ascensions, and nine on the other ascensions. So doing the math, it comes to about 68; now add the 16 steps from basement to ground floor and it totals to 84 steps. May be getting down the stairs takes about one-tenth of the effort and lets round it to 8 steps—but then, I usually do not get down.


And a Web page on the Internet says that climbing one step burns 0.11 cal (k cal). Let's say on an average I climb up the stairs twice daily—that is about 150 steps (not taking into account the basement to ground floor steps). So the total calories burned in a year would be about 6000 k cal (150 x 0.11 x 365). When you need to burn 3500 k cal to reduce your weight by a kilo, then it comes to about 2 kilos; but certainly the statement printed on the stairs is flawed because according to my calculation, it is 10 flights of stairs that would take away 2 kilos! And when you display this, you can be guaranteed that folks would never get around to taking the stairs even to the first floor.


Anyways, for a person of zero physical activity, blame my son for the lack of time, this is indeed a needed chore. It becomes so much of a chore that I often end up overdoing it—I forget which floor I am in and end up intending to go beyond third floor and the folks having their coffee-tea break at the stairs wonder what is wrong with me! After two such occurrences happened, I started checking the floor numbering and at times fall long or short.
So I climbed the stairs and was tired as usual especially with the hunger pangs. I drearily opened the access door and my hand fell a few inches short and did not scrape through the door. There went my sandwich—it fell on the floor and I was like, Oh no! So much for my decision of having a sandwich! After I managed to pacify my mind, the stomach started talking—so are you planning to eat anything at all or put me to starvation until the next meal?


After much deliberation, I decided to have a sandwich. Off I went to the kiosk and ordered for the same chilly-garlic sandwich. The first question that lanky guy asked me was, ‘I thought you already paid for the sandwich?’ Then I went, ‘Yeah. I paid for it but give me another one because the sandwich fell down’, with an embarrassed and sad smile.


What do you think would have been the sequence of events?

Friday, February 24, 2012

Ash says 'a n n a'!


It has been more than a few attempts and months since I had tried to evoke some meaningful syllables out of my about to be two-year old son. I am making the gender clear here because, I have had too many folks telling me that a son gets to speak late in his toddler lifespan and it must not be too much of a worry.

I really thought they were all being careless and have often wondered how one can ever start speaking all of a sudden without starting on monosyllables. I believe that anything as huge as talking, really is as intricate and time-sensitive as the orchestrated act of sowing and reaping. Like how the entire cycle of sowing to reaping takes time, and the patience to instill faith in the system, self-belief, hard work, and hope, everything in this world including a toddler's speech developments needs all those—time and the patience.

The problem with Ash is that, even though he has it in him, whenever he gets conscious of someone trying to make him repeat something, he goes on a strike with just the syllable that he uses for expressing disapproval—‘ahnn…’. And then, any attempts, however innovative they may be it stands annul!

In spite of that, I have paved success in my attempts to get him out of his world of four words: amma, appa, papa, and kaah (for car). The other day, we played this game of ‘On-Off’—this game of teaching him how to switch on and off the TV toggle button.

Just a few days ago, as part of his night bed-time ritual, I had taught him the names of his fingers—the little finger, thumb, et al, and he knew what his thumb meant.

This time, when I had asked to use his thumb to press the button, he was excited to recollect it and had also asked him to say 'o n' and say 'o f f' before I allowed him to touch the button—the conditional play.

Though this conditional play has been around for some time, in most of the cases, he is too reluctant to pursue his interests, how much ever alluring they are. For example, if he wants me to play a song on the mp3 player, I would insist him to say 'paattu' or at least say 'p a a'. One day, he finally settled down to saying paa, which was only asking him to go just halfway afar, now that he had anyway said 'papa'.

So getting back to the 'On-Off' story, we were just about to begin the on-off play, and I remembered to bother him again, harping on the conditional play and he attempted to say “onanon” for On and “aughvagh” for Off. Voila, he tried! And then, of course, he was so elated with the on-off play that he was grinning ear to ear!

And an hour later, I happened to go out to the market to run some errands and I took Ash along that meant to be a walk for him, though he did not budge to remove his cozily parked seat off my hips. It happens sometimes… this guy just does not bother to think about his feet!

And, while carrying him around, he is often too excited about something or the other on the busy main road and I acknowledge it by naming what he points at or if he gets too uncomfortably silent, I tend to start exclaiming things to get his interest back and by chance, I happened to see two boys standing in a bus stop, and happened to point Ash in their direction and show to him the ‘anna’ (elder brother) around there.

Now, wrt the word anna, he has been introduced to the word long ago with his cousin, Varun, having been around umpteen times. Whenever Ash sees Varun, Ash always chases him around the house and is all too fond of Varun ‘anna’ that Ash, though he is five to six years younger to himself, hits him with all his might and poor Varun stands all the pain, for the sweet fellow that he is.

Back to the bus stop scene—and as a hapless mother who wants to hear her son speak, I was only too greedy to ask him to say anna, and there he went... ‘a n n a’.

My God! So endearing it was; as if it was hearing a devotee beseech for something by saying his almighty's name. His anna is charming for one reason that when he says his ‘anna’, neither does he fold his tongue inwards, nor does he take the tip of his tongue to the root of his upper set of the teeth; he brings his teeth between his upper and lower set of the teeth.

By the way, all my other tries, subsequent to this major breakthrough, have been very depressing and in vain; a few such as trying to get ‘banana’ out of his mouth though he was successful in saying ‘bah’ for bus and ‘nana’ after the anna incident; and when he was trying to take his three-wheeled cycle outside the half-open door, I asked him to say oh-pen; and after bouts of disapproval, he said ‘oh’ and did not give in to saying pen! Another long-lasting try has been he being able to discretely say ‘papa’ and ‘yayaya’ and not ‘pa-paah-ya’.

But, I must say that this week has been a week of success, because, all these days, he had been pointing to the right picture when held and asked questions about which of the two is amma or appa. This week, I showed him the pictures and managed to make him say which of it ‘amma’ and ‘appa’. He seemed to enjoy the act as well.

Well, I wanted to tell myself this: Just because, I had borne a son, it does not mean that this blog must turn into an all-exclusive blog on my son’s growing up acts (now you get the point on how desperately, I have been trying to hold back the umpteen offline thoughts from being online); however, this post is an exception (at least, I hope it is). I want to think that this post is for people who would understand the pains of a growing mother who wants to desperately make her son say something meaningful and to who say that it is the problem of working mothers, that working mothers end up making their kids speechless. Of course, no matter what, there is always the ‘trying-hard’ part with anyone who has a kid!

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Distant Memories

I see the star and the crescent
and the increasing distance 
today and the day before.
And I think of you and me
and of the distance we share.


The sweet distance 
that lets us go over 
the memories that it froze,
the memories that we both own
one each with each other.


Between you and me,
distance and memories 
instill faith and hope,
and string together--us,
the past, and the future.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Translation of Kannazhaga from 3


Music, Man and Woman, and Magic


Woman: 
I wonder what is beautiful...
Is it your eyes or toes?
You are my golden beauty,
and the man for the lady.


Is it your tiptoeing fingers 
that tread over?
Or your demeanour 
that weaves 
a myriad of magic together?


Man:
Oh my life, 
there isn't anything as you
that is dearer to me,
among the living.


Oh my beauty,
there isn't anything as you,
that is beautiful 
among the beautiful.


Woman:
You look somewhere 
and say the unsaid.
And your enrapturing magic 
makes me all set, 
to cross our limit.


Man:
All I do is 
to look into you, 
and say the truth.
Of course, I look for means 
to entwine my life with yours.


Woman:
Let's let our lips 
meet each other.
I am sure, 
this isn't a new curse... 


Man:
Close your eyes
and draw near me,
there isn't 
any better pleasure 
than this.


Woman:
Come look into me, 
let me hear the truth,
and
I would teach you 
to entwine our lives.


Man:
You are my doe-eyed, 
quintessence and epitome 
of beauty.
You are my life 
and
there isn't anything as you
that is dearer to me,
among the living.




Music aka Magic depicts the rest...

Saturday, January 28, 2012

A Beautiful Moment



There are some moments in your life that you never want to miss and want to hold them in mind forever and replay when you are happy. One such was what it was like today evening...

The clear and dark starlit sky,
the beautiful heart-mellowing crescent,
the glow that it manages to surround itself with,
the star beside—not the troika that you usually admire but this one seems a different one,
a patch of clouds for the moon's company,
the mellifluous song playing in your ears that you want to keep listening to all your life,
the beautiful verses it has,
the music that let you imagine the setting and the mood of the song,
the gratifying etched memories that recurs in your mind,
the bountiful energy that you derive out of nowhere that makes you think you just want to leave everything and go for an exerting work-out or a run,
or rather keep writing till you drop,
and amidst this,
the curse of your mind on itself for not being able to hold on to the thoughts that occur to you.
And all you can do to salvage the current stream of thoughts would be to leave the scene at where it is and rush to reach to the device that can save your thoughts.

Indeed, who could have better said it than who said,
'A thing of beauty is joy forever.'
For, after I wrote these lines,
and when I came over,
the scene was longer present,
with the winds crowding the sky with clouds aplenty,
and the moon almost dying in the horizon.

You leave the place with 'what happens is for your best.'

-Dated: 6:45 PM, 27 Jan, 2012

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Music Panacea


How much ever I temper my mind, 
it does not seem to get tamed 
And falls prey to the tormenting questions 
that have no answers


And so, 


I seek music


To clear my mind clouded with contemplation
As company to the monologues in my mind
To temper my mind further and 
To shield it from miseries.


Dated: June 23, 2011

Thursday, January 12, 2012

If by Rudyard Kipling


If

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘Or walk with Kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

Saturday, January 07, 2012

You, me, and metaphysics


Your thoughts spread on my brain
like
Ink on a blotting paper.


Your confessions liberate me 
like
Balloon filled with helium.


Your presence make me feel
like
I am a log on water.


Your words sting me
like
Arrow from a taut bow.


Your letting-go act makes me 
like
A ball thrown in the air.


You go away and yet I am
like
A ball sunk in the water.


All I do is
to follow the law of physics;
and when you are with me,
Who am I to defy gravity?

Sunday, January 01, 2012

Some Retro Records to Welcome 2012

Mishaps are like knives that either serve us or cut us,
As we grasp them by the blade or the handle.
~ James Russell Lovell


I complained I had no shoes
till...
I saw a man that had no feet.
~ Author Unknown


Experience is a hard teacher
because she gives the test first,
the lesson afterword.
~ Vernon Law


When one door closes another door opens;
but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door,
that we do not see the ones which open for us.
~ Helen Keller


Tell me and I'll forget;
show me and I may remember;
involve me and I'll understand.
~Chinese Proverb


Leadership is doing what is right,
even when no one is watching.
~ Marquis de Vauvernargues


What lies behind us and what lies before us
are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson


Worrying is like a rocking chair,
It gives you something to do,
But it does not get you anywhere.
~ Unknown


Our greatest battles are that with our own minds.
~ Jameson Frank


For every minute you are angry,
you lose sixty seconds of happiness.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dated: Sometime in 2003 - 2004
The above quotes are a few of the yields of my recent dusting.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

You and me


You at the cafeteria...
My eyes have done this a thousand times now:
Wander for a while and trace back to you.
Like a ball set in motion at the rim of a funnel.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Translation of Kadhal Vaithu from Deepavali

Love Sunk

I awaited embracing all the love and desire,
trying to sieve your voice in the air…

In your mirth I realized music.
In your drift I realized direction.

I fell into the sea of love,
but remained afloat even after I was ashore.

Your moves made me move.
Alas! I vanished beautifully and seen nowhere.

Every time I heard the fairy tales,
I dismissed them to be farce.
But when my eyes met yours,
they fathomed it cannot be false.

My dainty mornings arise
with the sweet hope of seeing you.
My dusky evenings set
with the intoxication of having seen you.

The day I saw you
Mesmerizes me like the day of my dawn.
The words I spoke to you
echoes deep down inside my heart.

You made me
speak to the sea,
and
sham the concept of time.
You made me
bathe with the rain
and
celebrate the sun.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Childlike Joy


I twisted and curled in my bed.
Forget it. You are crazy, I said. 

I thought I would be able to tame, 
But my heart was not game. 

Yet again I was moonstruck. 
Could not say if it was good or bad luck. 

And when clock struck three,  
I thought I must let it free  
and stop the insane spree.  

I was so fixated that I would not rest. 
And went on as long as the joy would last, 
Till I got all the words right. 

And then when I was finally done, 
All I could say was... a-w-e-s-o-m-e! 
About this masterpiece from the maestro's son.

The above was what exactly happened just before, during, and after my attempt to translate the song Kadhal Vaithu... from Deepavali.
Coming soon... 

P.S.: After a few rounds of editing, I removed a few lines from the above piece to give it some twist... :-)

.
.
.
 Could not say if it was good or bad luck. 
Translation thoughts were firmly stuck.
And when clock struck three,  
I thought I must let it free  
and stop the insane spree. 
So I left the bed,
With the song looping in my head.
I was so fixated that I would not rest. 
.
.
.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Translation of Un Perai Sonnale from Dum Dum Dum

What is in Name?

All I say is your name, and sweetness takes over me.
Please do not depart me.
All I do is walk with you, and new blooms brim my path.
Would you not go with me?

Countless thoughts of you lurk in my mind,
ready and waiting to devour my life.

I shatter down, fleck by fleck, on the floor.
Oh dear, where are you?

I forget the consonants and the alphabets too.
And sooner, I turn dumb.

Like the child that is aware but yet teases the fire,
I hark back to think of you...
And the pain creeps through.

I tremble like the base and throb like a drum.

How can life and flesh be apart?

Is this fate or a way out?
Why throw thunder on a plant?
Don’t go away. Don’t go away…

My love!
Do you say this is not the reality, or that you do not remember?
Would you say who you are—my friend forever, or just a passer?
Utter the answer, my sweeter part.

Oh sanguine sun!
Why do you torment the moon?
Won't you tell me all your pain?
Why did you stir a storm, inside this red screw pine?
Won’t you tell me, oh divine?



Disclaimer: I hope that except for ‘I tremble like the base and throb like a drum,’ I have done justice to the rest of the words. If not, do let me know!
___
I am yet again on translations... This time it is my long-lost love—‘Un Perai Sonnale’ from ‘Dumm Dumm Dumm’. I wonder why and how I had missed this beautiful song? And even more of a wonder is why and how Karthik Raja has been missing his trains so much after such beauties in the movie. A real sparkle, this one and the song ‘Ragasiyamai’ is! And of course, both Sadhana Sargam and Unnikrishnan's parts and versions (in the same song) are on par and brimming with the right emotions. My only complaint is that, in the movie, the song is not visually complete. If it were, then I am sure we would at least get to see the song more often on air.

More wonderings…
Like asking ‘How can life and flesh be apart,’ I think I must also ask ‘How can music and words be apart?’
My love and thirst for the song was quenched when I was able to translate the words; but what do I do to the music. Alas, I cannot translate or render it!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Snack break


Just a few minutes ago, I had this urge or a kind of an obsessive compulsion to drink coffee from the new CCD vending machine. Of course, my mind and heart did not sing the same notes. My mind was mindful of the calories in the cup of coffee but my heart was with the pleasure in the sip. Just when I was leaving my seat, a conversation picked up and a while went by and I was again in two minds.

I thought aloud about my coffee thoughts and immediately, my friend offered me a box and asked me to snack it.

I looked the box-and-spoon setup eagerly. The spoon was lying supine on the chill steel box. It was resting stylishly, with its lower-head and mid-torso touching the box. The face of the spoon had some white particles and it deceived me into believing that it was a popular South-Indian snack called Puttu—not the piped version, but the powdered version. As opposed to the folks who know the Puttu that is cylindrical, I have always known it only by its powdered form. At least that is how my parents prepared it. For the unknown, whatever the shape of the Puttu is, it is primarily a steamed dish, with its main ingredients being coarsely powdered rice, grated coconut, and my version had sugar as well. If it is a rich man's version, then it had cashews sautéed in ghee.

So, I separated the couples—the spoon and the box, and went into the separation act a further beyond. I removed the lid of the box and in front of my eyes was something that looked very much like Puttu, but it was not snow-white. It was mid-way between white and cream, glistening, and it also had speckles of black sparsely placed.

As is the nature of anyone, I was first devouring the snack with my eyes, wondering how it would taste. Then, immediately, I spaded out a portion with the spoon and passed it on to my mouth. It was hard, like the cold truth as against the soft Puttu, which was like the sweet lie.
For sure it was not Puttu. But then, the glistening part was sugar and the black speckles were that of the coconut skin. So, with most of the constituents figured out, I now delved into understanding what the main part was. It was an enigma in a true sense!

As I was ruminating, the suspense was spread across, as the box travelled to the nearby bays—word-of-mouth marketing! More eyes and taste buds were now examining the make of the snack. The most common guesses of the eyes were that it was Puttu. Some of the buds said it was stale bread powered and garnished with coconut and sugar—that was certainly for the comic reliefs! More guesses came in and none came close to the actual. Finally the hands and mind that made it revealed that it was powdered Murukku (a snack made for Diwali with primary ingredients being urad and rice flour) mixed with all other constituents that most of them rightly guessed.

Later on, I checked to see how many Murukkus were powdered to make a box-full of snack. They were 25. In fact, it would make a good puzzle—how would you fit 25 Murukkus in a medium-sized box?

Altogether, the snack break was a success; kindling all the elements—break from monotony, food for mind and stomach, mild satisfaction for the taste-buds, humor, and all in the right mix.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Analogy


Love and Accidents
Are all around
Seen anywhere and anytime
Has no logic
Bound by fate
Follows no rules
Respects no rationale
Blindfolded
Mysterious
Dangerous
Soul-wrenching
--Inspired from the movie Engeyum Eppodhum

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Imagery


Body = Wall
Food = Plaster Mixture
Exercise = Plasterer's Float


Thanks to... 
Dr. C. Saravanan MBBS, MS, MRCS, M.Ch (paed)

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Lane Story


The two-second sound and light play
Scene:
Lane 2 - In my fast-car, on the highway.
Lane 2 - A lady on a bike, just ahead.


Dialog:
Me: Honk Honk


She: Indicated the right way, 
with her blinkers
and moved to lane 1.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Food for thought...


Just behind me,
the blender was taking the life out of the fruits.
It was not the scream of the mixer, 
but 
the shrill of the fruits
like
the bleat of the butchered animals.

Monday, September 12, 2011

The Wind Rogue

This time...
The rains did not rain.
It was swept off its feet.
Not by romance but by force.
The clouds budded them fine 
but it could not bloom.

This time...
The clouds did not float.
It was being shoved around.
It was being chased
and could not save its grace.

Because,
the wind played rogue
teasing and rampaging,
the clouds and the rain.

And when it was all over,
darkness loomed...

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Translation of Nee Korinaal from 180

The five-minute wonder!

Nee Korinaal is yet another beauty! Alright, in terms of what this time? A lyrical beauty, a visual beauty, and a musical treat. The format of the song just swept me off my feet: each line standing on its own, with absolutely no connection between its siblings and still making it a great song. The song has the male and female voices repeating a verse, each in a normal pitch and the second time, in a high and longish pitch. Seems like someone reads a secret the first time and the next time, revives it with their vocals. This happens for all the verses, expect the opening verse. A great song structure put in action by the music director, Sharreth. It is a wonder in so many senses--you must listen to appreciate the nuances of the song. In fact, the music arrangement compliments the lyrics as well as the voice, taking the lead only where required.

And Karthik and Swetha Mohan have just made this song scintillate, in terms of the way it has been sung. Especially the brilliant Swetha for the way she emotes, playing it low and high wherever and whenever required. Though Karthik gives a great opening with his endearing questions, Swetha has the last laugh. She is relentless even in places where she has to go on a low but steady and a breathless pitch, and gradually has to flight up for the re-opening verse that she sings after that. A perfect 10, like Nadia Comaneci, I would say.

So here is me gratifying my impulse--I dont know why, I often feel I want to devour the song, everytime I listen to this chirpy song--the translation of Nee Korinal from the movie 180 (Nootrenbadhu).


If you ask for, my sweetheart,
won't the sky change, forever?
won't the clouds patter, incessantly?

You seared my soul, my sunshine,
yet I see no fire around...

Now, don't shut your windows, oh ladylove,
and shy away from me.

You run away, oh poetry in motion,
from me, steadfast yet still...

Am I of the recluse clan to not caress you,
oh beautiful,
even after I set my eyes on you?

You are my reflecting self, oh silken flower,
I pray, do not wither away.

Your intoxicating lips invite me, oh alluring!
Come, let me have a sip of you.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Success


To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
          ~ inaccurately attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson
             (http://www.transcendentalists.com/success.htm)

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Notes

Somehow liked this quote a lot! It makes a lot of sense but we hardly put it to practice...
The palest ink is better than the best memory. - Chinese Proverb

Friday, January 28, 2011

Mazhai Varum... from Veppam - My rendition / translation



My eyes see the harbinger of rains,
but my heart seems to be drenching,
is this love or loss?
As I see the times of our togetherness unfurl before me,
I seem to be losing grip of the ground under me,
why is this so?

My eyes that brighten as I lean on your shoulders,
now look forlorn, looking for you.
The flowers that bloom by our path,
now look dismayed, waiting for your arrival.

The seed of our juvenile love
now has grown full-blown, all by itself
And, when at the bloom of a new flower,
I wonder who has plucked it.

I came by, tracing your footsteps,
Now I seem to have lost it and heading nowhere...

I had asked for beautiful times,
and someone just blessed me with tears in my eyes.
I had asked for the magical rainbows,
and someone just blessed my journey with sorrows.

This love is excruciating,
it burns me down together with my soul.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Mazhai Varum... from Veppam

Yet another warm song from Joshua Shridhar and Na Muthukumar! It has a simple and steady BGM flowing through the entire song with the violin, flute, and cello interludes adding strength. Suzanne D'Mello does her part well in creating an unrequited-love-song feel to it. A lady love's unrequited love song is of course extra-special! Suzzane's version has a mix of solitude, passion, fervency, and longing. I did understand that it is a mellowed-down voice that is singing Mazhai Varum and her voice might sound great for a power-packed song. All these were what I had with me, to write, until I Google-ed her out. After that, it was surprises all the way...

What I did not know was that she is the voice behind Latika's theme and Dreams on fire from Slumdog Millionaire, Hosanna from Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa, and to my greatest surprise, Nalamdhaana from Silambattam. All these were surprises because, I have listened to each more than a thousand times; yet I could not get to appreciate her all these while. Each of these songs has a completely different genre and she has such grace in her voice in softer songs and power in the rest. But then, the inconsistency in the song credits makes an impression that they are all different people all together. The various names that appear in the credits are Suzie Q, Suzzane, and Suzzane D'Mello. Of course, she has a huge list of hit songs under the Bollywood category.

And for a singer of non-native tongue, her pronunciation of Tamil, in this song, is good. Her strengths are certainly the nuances she brings to the song and her humming just takes the song to a different plane. At the places where she goes too deeply husky, it gives the exact feel for Mazhai Varum. In this song, she supresses her popular RnB tones, and does a casual and light singing and that makes her voice sound a lot sweeter and younger. Something like how Suchitra sounded when she sang Tharai Erangiya from Eeram. Talking about Tharai Erangiya song, it was another song that I fell in love with instantly, for its simplicity, innocence, and sweetness. Anyways, I wanted to talk about just the Mazhai Varum song, giving due credits to each; but the realization of Suzzane's identity digressed the intent of this post!

Friday, January 07, 2011

How to name it?

What do I call it,
if I still feel the warmth
you bestowed on me, ages ago...,

When I have won
the war waged by
my failing memory,
fate, time, and distance,
the charm of new relationships,

and

life-changing events
such as marriage and parenthood...?

Sunday, January 02, 2011

Quotes as Commandments for the New Year

Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let everyone know that you have a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it.
- James A. Garfield

Be master of your petty annoyances and conserve your energies for the big, worthwhile things. It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out - it's the grain of sand in your shoe.
- Robert Service

Monday, December 27, 2010

To the children's teachers...

The piece below has been popularly referred to as Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher. There are sources that deny this, though. However it may be, I think of it as one of the best writings that I have come across till now. A few others are If (Rudyard Kipling), and Success (misattributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson).


He will have to learn, I know,
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for every scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish politician,
there is a dedicated leader...
Teach him for every enemy there is a friend,

Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.

Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick...
Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books...
But also give him quiet time
to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and the flowers on a green hillside.

In the school teach him
it is far honourable to fail
than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if everyone tells him
they are wrong...
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when everyone is getting on the band wagon...
Teach him to listen to all men...
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.

Teach him if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness...
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price-tag
on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he’s right.
Treat him gently,
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test
of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage
to be impatient...
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will have
sublime faith in mankind.

This is a big order,
but see what you can do...
He is such a fine little fellow,
my son!

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Remembering 'Don't speak'

You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together always
I really feel
That I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe
This could be the end
It looks as though you're letting go
And if it's real
Well I don't want to know

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts

Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts

It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are...

You and me
I can see us dying...are we?

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't tell me cause it hurts!
I know what you're saying
So please stop explaining

Don't speak,
don't speak,
don't speak,
oh I know what you're thinking
And I don't need your reasons
I know you're good,
I know you're good,
I know you're real good
Oh, la la la la la la La la la la la la
Don't, Don't, uh-huh Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush
don't tell me tell me cause it hurts
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush don't tell me tell me cause it hurts.

~ Eric Stefani, Gwen Stefani

Monday, July 12, 2010

Grief

I am now, A betrayer of the past that I ought to be faithful to and A slave of the misgiving present. Because, eventhough we are so-close-yet-so-far in this 'the longest period' that we have lived together after nearly a decade of solitude, The conversations between me and you is a festering wound... My words, the oozing pus, an outcome of the tussle, between our forgotten past and the unforgiving present. And often and everytime, I wish I could be sweeter to you overlooking your inabilities to foster the beautiful kinship that is now an almost was...

Saturday, December 05, 2009

Rain treasure

I see...
Hope on the burgeoning barren tree, Platinum on the waxy lotus platter, Gold at the tip of bamboo blades, Black diamond on the umbrellas, Emerald on the tender foliage, Sapphire on the washed skies, Garnet on the rose petals, Satin on smooth roads, Happiness in my mind, Warmth in my heart, Spirit in my life.