exertion

physical exertion becomes an antidote to ennui when there is no time to think—think about people, plans and pains no time to apply rationality and sensibility no time to learn and unlearn and relearn when there is disgrace, disgust and hopelessness, and your soul is seething with anger to prove to the world of your capabilities when there is this world that, you think, is looking at you as an anathema. I know it is a bit too acerbic and hopeless. I guess, writing brings the worst and the best out of me. How coincidental, somehow the thoughts in the previous post seems to have been like a forerunner to my way of life—especially the last statement! Sincerely hope I revert to my normal mode soon.

Hope, Dream and Sleep

Hope is the dream of the waking man
Dream is the hope of the sleeping man
Sleep is the dream of the working man

Such an amazing quote!! I was stunned when I saw this yesterday, at my client's office. In fact, stunned is not the word. I am still being captivated and amazed by it. It is a beauty! Would surely rate it somewhere close to Separation by Merwin.

I had googled to find who the author was. Seems like it is an anonymous quote except for the first line of the quote.

The first line of the quote is by Aristotle.

Lessons

The night was chill and calm. I took refuge in my private music source to bring myself out of a burgeoning bedlam. There were big ugly frogs hiding in the pipelines, scaring me and running a chill down my spine, a petite beautiful lady chatting with her boyfriend, construction workers returning from the day’s amends, and, maintenance boys changing shifts after mends. Farther from where I am, a naive adamant kid was refusing to listen to a grownup kid. After her repeated efforts, patience, and hurt, she threw her hand, up in the air and broke down, “Am I here to teach protocols to people? Won’t it just listen and play with me?” By now, I had walked closer to them. The kid’s mother kindly said, “The kid is still learning, or maybe, it didn’t know that the lessons were supposed to be learnt. Or maybe it wouldn’t just learn under you, however nice you are. Give up on the kid. It will find its way, in due course.”

SEPARATION

Your absence has gone through me
Like a thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

— W. S. Merwin

Sources:
Merwin, W. S. "Separation." The Moving Target. New York: Atheneum, 1979. 9.

This is a beautiful poem. I fell for it the day I read it at Melancholetta, sometime in April. Separation has been haunting me for quite a while now.

Story Tree...

...contd from meera

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

He would preserve this ticket. When he would succeed, he would frame and hang it for all to see, as a reminder of the fact that greatness had humble origins, of the day when he set out to seize his destiny. His lips quivered with emotion as he carefully counted the money in his wallet, yet again. Four crisp hundreds and two crumpled fifties. At seventeen, it seemed like a fortune to him. He would carefully plan his expenses. He felt as energetic as the strong breeze that hit his face. He stumbled backward, as the wallet slipped from his hands.


Turag watched it fall, with the fingers of both his hands curled—one gripping the steel bar and the other gripping nothing but air. The wallet settled, the second time it touched the greased stones. It was diminishing in size and moving away from him like an open-mouthed balloon propelled by the gushing air. He knew, well enough, the events that would follow if he pulls the stop-chain. In fact it was a stop-chain that brought a wind of change in his life. Getting off from the thought-train that the stop-chain had evoked, he rushed towards it, with uncurled fingers.
___

i pass the baton to sensibly stoned, s m i t h a and the sun dew

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musings

There are withered leaves of yesterday, pale and dead; executed and lain bare on the green floor by the martinet, gushy evening winds. There are pigeons that enjoy free rides, down and up, stepping out from its man-made pretended nest, and landing ladylike on the outer ceiling of the elevator, saving its shoulder's strength for other worthwhile journeys, There are white-haired cranes that walk on the grass, delicately, leaving the floor unhurt, freezing and pretending to be nonexistent, as I walk past it. There are clouds that threaten to drench the dehydrated earth, waiting to close the deal and induce new life cycles. And there are also, frozen tears that never saw beyond bay, eyes that forget to remember the once thought-locked face, rehearsed words of confessions that never saw its way, mind-numbing thoughts of innumerous affrays, faded memories of moments of dismay, memoirs evoked by the disjoint rails, and persistent jubilant tunes of victory tales. Now, I see from a distance, a whining kid that wants to see the chocolate store, and select the ones that appeals to its eyes, waiting to learn a new lesson in its life. And here I am, amused by the kid, cognizant of the kid's state of affairs, But still, yearning to see what life has in store.

The one that stays longer and stronger...

The tough-minded
optimist views
any problem
as a challenge
to his intelligence,
ingenuity and faith.
He keeps on thinking,
praying and believing.
He knows there is
a solution and
so he finally finds it.

The title was for another write-up that I started writing; but I have been held up with other things. I liked the title so much. And the one in quotes is something that I have been telling myself quite often nowadays. Believe me, it’s quite an amazing thought!

Wondrous AR

Yes, I am talking about Rehman!! I am literally spellbound by the ‘Mayiliragae’ song. It is certainly one of the most beautifully woven spell in the air. It falls under the simple songs genre—simple in terms of usage of the orchestration. It’s an amazing blend of North and South. And, I never imagined Tabla and Thavil would compliment each other so well.

Even the non-apparent but significant cymbals (jinggu cha) are a treat to follow! I am sure each of the performers would have been on cloud nine when they were performing for this song—especially the rise in the tempo of the Thavil and Nadaswaram bit just before the second half of the song. In fact, the Thavil and the Nadaswaram are the inseparables—like the letters ‘Q’ and ‘U’ of English.

Talking about the vocals—none other than Rehman can use Madhushree’s voice in a better way. Be it the song from Aiyudha Ezhuthu or this one in Ah Aah. It is just the perfect example of how good or bad a voice can sound when in the hands of different music directors. And except for a few places, even Naresh Iyer has also mellifluously sung the song.

The pallavi of this song, ‘mayiliragae mayiliragae vardugirai ennai…’, which in the broader sense means that the touch of his or her beloved is similar to the magical and the lovely feel of the caress of a peacock feather. Believe me, the tones in their voices evoke similar emotions on the people who listen to the song!

I shouldn’t be talking about the ‘Maramkothhiyae’ song on this occasion, but I am compelled to as this is an amazing concept per se. Again Rehman excels in the remixed version of his own wondrous slow-tempo song, ‘Mayiliragae’. Each of two songs is unique but still each song is as dependent on each other like the steps of a ladder. Together they act in tandem to elevate the listener to a higher plane and both the songs compliment each other well in its characteristics.

Rehman for sure has craftily created a musical treat—at least for me!!

discourse

Well, this is an aftermath of a discussion (call it chat) that I had with my colleague. Like in all lengthy discussions that meander to multitudinous topics, one invloves in the play of tracing it back to its origin, and I asked myself, "how did we start discussing about cats...?" Ahh... after unsuccessful brainstorming, I went back to him and in 5 seconds he came up, “pets<-the doctor who had a big dog<-blood donation.”

I said, “ahnnn ok! good.”

It all started with a mail harping on blood donation.

Me: Hey!! Have you donated blood, in your life?
Colleague: Yeah, once. It was to a doctor who our family knew.
M: How was it? I mean, did you feel any euphoria that I have always imagined to exist after blood donation? (with a grin)
C: Euphoria? NO. I felt uneasy for a while, in fact for the whole of that day; especially after you see that something of your's is leaving your body. It becomes alright after a day.
M: (a nod and a smile)
C: They took a unit of blood—I have always thought one unit meant a litre, it was 300 ml and they don’t take beyond that, at one go, and they won’t let you donate blood if the time lapsed is less than three months since you last donated.
M: (with a raised eyebrow) Ohh...
C: This is the doctor whose son wrote those Tamil poetries. (questioningly and with a locked eyebrow) I have told you about this guy, right?
M: (with a reminiscent expression) Which guy...? Ahnn... ok. now I remember! (with an enlightened expression)
C: They had a big dog at their place. This big... (with his hand kept in the usual position that one uses to indicate heights—hand parallel to the ground, at a distance of about 3 feet) It was an Alsatian.
M: (with both eyebrows raised and with a bewared glance at the parallel arm)
M: (with a change in expression) You have grown pets?
C: Yeah we had two dogs and many cats.

A smile started blooming when he started saying 'many cats'.

C: In fact, dogs are better than cats, you know? Cats are always arrogant and lazy...

I perceived that he was drawing comparisons to a kind of species that I knew of well, and so pounced back at him, “you seem to be comparing cats with women...”, with an inspecting look on my face.

C: (with a light laugh) Did I say anything like that?
M: Ok Ok.

I thought, ”why to unnecessarily tarnish our sect? let me stop right here!!”

C: In fact, they say ‘If you give food and shelter to a dog, it thinks that you are God. If you give food and shelter to a cat, it thinks that it must be God!’
M: Wow!! That was a nice way to sum up the attitude of a cat! :-)
C: We had a large family of cats growing around our house and it used to frequent our place quite often.
C: If it’s sitting on the sofa, and you go near the sofa and look for a place to sit, it will look at you with such an annoying look—as if to suggest why the hell are you disturbing me?
M: (with a tinge of amusement) Ahh... is it?
C: But cats are generally fun to look at while they play. If the parent cat rests on the floor, it keeps shifting its tail from right to left and vice versa, and the kittens keep chasing them—it would look as if the parent is teaching the kittens to chase its target.
M: In fact, now I remember, the kittens generally cling to the clothes, right, with its fragile paws?
C: Yeah, and you know there are a few things about cats—if you drop them from any height with its body turned in any direction, it always falls on its legs!!
M: Ohh!! (of late, with my spontaneity with analogies, I, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second and opening them as if finding the greatest idea to the most difficult problem on earth) Something like the shuttlecock, na? It always falls on the ground on the cork.
C: Yeah, I guess. (with absolutely no expression or amazement)

I thought, “Ohh God, why always me? Anyway, I guess he is busy with his cat observations that he didn't get deviated by my beautiful analogy.”

C: And one another thing is that as long as it was at our home, it has never gone to the kitchen and foraged for milk—but it promptly went to our neighbor’s house and drank milk!!
M: Ada paavi! (with a tinge—just a tinge—of sarcasm) You seem to have trained your cat very well!!
C: And if it ever ate something that caused itself a stomach upset, it intuitively knows which grass or plants to eat or chew to make itself free from the ailment!
M: That’s news!! (with a smile)

And there comes a mail that reminds me of my work (oh yeah, that’s what I am paid for, right!!)

There ended our digressing discourse!!!

Monday Morning...

5.50 a.m., Monday morning. Ennui. 6.50 a.m., a bang on the shin, wrinkles on the face, clenching of the teeth. Blackout. 7.20 a.m., arriving at the bus stop--early by ten minutes, encore 1984, a lass lunging and falling on her face on the road--out of weakness, lifting her by her arm, settling her. Empathy. My bus arrives and is waiting for me to get in, a feeling of helplessness, getting into the bus, she falls off to the floor again. Remorse. ‘It’s Ok. Just Shut It Out!!’, says my mind. And am off to "doublespeak" and "thoughtcrime".

(Blue) Black Magic

i was looking at a blue-black thick blanket,
trimmed at the edges and curved like tree-tops,
pinned up to a light-blue display board.

and just when I took my eyes off,
flickers of pinkish white light
shimmered from the thick of the blanket
and showed me a few more hidden tree-tops.

soon, revelation came along;
they were the potential rain-bearing clouds,
waiting for the wind to unfurl its flourishes!

dust and truck

you ran down on me, and trashed me like the dust underneath the wheels of a truck, and i, i went behind you, gaining an ephemeral momentum, like the same loose dust, mindlessly rushing behind it. nota bene: my eyes saw the dust and imagination created the rest

isn't it ironic?

After a very long time, it's lyrics time! It probably befits as a sequel to my last post. :-) I am not posting the entire lyrics here; instead, I am just quoting the ones that I thought were really the epitome of irony. I mean, if you are trying to explain the meaning of the word 'ironic', you would succeed if you just quote these.

"A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...dontcha think"

And, Alanis!! Ahh... she uses just the right intonation to express these ironies. Just amazing!! Absolutely amazing!

isn't it paradoxical?

isn't it paradoxical, that the clock's hands have to go on in circles, for me to move ahead; i have to smelt ore, for iron to be robust; i have to pluck the taut guitar strings to relieve me of my tautness; i have to dichotomize something to identify the beautiful symmetry in it; i have to imprison air, for a balloon to soar high with freedom; i have to bury a seed alive, for a plant to come to life?

words

If you take it for granted that others know how much you appreciate them, they will probably think you take them for granted. Put thanks and appreciation into words.

- anon

i kinda liked this! believe me. words make quite a lot of difference... :-)

Recharge

Three hours is the time that my cell takes to recharge from drain. I am human; I probably take much longer. Well, let me come to the things that matter to me right now and are lingering in my mind.

Like how a small insignificant tiff rushes out all the past trivial tiffs to the forefront, the events in the few hours of a fine and sprightly morning acted on all the similar performances that failed to arouse emotions of any sort earlier.

So, what is it?

An hour-long morning walk and an hour spent in a temple.

It is always a welcome break—a peaceful saunter on a serene Sunday evening, when the families in the locality sink into family welfare activities leaving the streets deserted and without much activity. The oldies sit on the porch munching away the talks sensible to them. The youngsters sit on their cycles, sniggering but very apparent in their act of passing petty comments on a passerby.

The vicinity of the temple is an idyllic setup, with a hum arising from the susurration of the ladies who make basil garlands. There is an occasional rise in the decibel level whenever they beseech the devotees to bestow garlands, off their kiosks, onto the shoulders of the One in the sanctum sanctorum. The chime arising from the direction of the two cows serving the needs of the temple, adds a musical backdrop to the rustic lure. Looking closer at the tenderly looking cows, there is a yellowish orange smear on the forehead that brings divinity. All this makes a perfect stage for a trance.

The temple’s design falls in the design gamut of a typical south Indian temple; it has one main sanctum and multiple sub-sanctums. Typically, the sub-sanctums are would be that of the son’s or the daughter’s or of the people important to the One in the main sanctum.

As I was trying to connect to a Goddess at one of the sub-sanctums, this happened. A little boy who had accompanied his grandfather was enjoying his freedom confined to the temple grounds. He was sauntering in the yards whilst his grandfather reached one of the sub-sanctums. However, in no time the kid traced his grandpa and reached him. The grandpa, immediately, on a serious note and in a mildly threatening voice asked him to pray to the Goddess. The kid went to the locked gates and very endearingly said, “Saamee, saamee!!” that my reverence was distracted by its endearment. I am just wondering from whom or where the child had learnt to emote.

And the tone—it is still resonating in my ears!

The highlight of the temple visits is the time spent on the verandahs of the temple after offering prayers. Ideally, for me, it is the most sacred of the moments spent in the temple–the time spent in revisiting oneself and focusing on the revitalizing the soul. But when you are looking at connecting to the world, you tend to watch people around you and enjoy the things going on.

A kid’s obeisance replicated from its parent—the kid laying down itself as prostrate as its father and checking now and then if its father has risen and if not, ducking back to its original position, another kid nodding the head up and down—an interplay only known to the kid and the mother, a few children riding on the backs of the sculptured elephants and crocodiles positioned by either side of the sanctum, and another kid going far away from its parents and after discovering that it has gone far away, coming back with such happiness and falling into the arms of its parents and a lot more such sweet things happening around.

It is very true that the meaningless murmurings and acts are always sweet to the senses. Even the repeated acts of a kid chasing away all the pigeons that are being fed won’t let me imagine worse things about it. I readily do agree that our tolerance level is very high when it comes to kids because we don’t assume that they are aware of the “rules”.

Block and Bliss

I felt like standing in front of a tub of cold water, for yet another session of the morning ablution, knowing that I will be able to surpass the block and enjoy the bliss, only if I let it run down on myself for the first few times, every time... I sat down to write.

Ensemble

An analogy is poetic; a comparison prosaic. Crush A kid toying with a trick it recently learnt to play Newlywed Couples Fresh toothpaste and a new toothbrush Parents, Kids and Identity Flower that bears fruit Disquiet Wrongly crossed cross-legged posture Sea, Surfers, and Surfboards City Roads, Adults, and Bus Footboard Advice, Acceptance and Results A Good Pen, Willingness to Write and a Beautiful Handwriting Mind and Tempered Mind Sour Curd and Sweet Buttermilk Fate and Premonition A Mortuary van following an Ambulance rushing to the hospital

am grateful to

the contrast-colored space around a literal, the silence that lets me hear the spelt out words, the darkness when i am asleep, the void that engulfs my mind, the discomfort in certain relationships, the coldness in a relationship, the restlessness of my mind and, my shortcomings.

kannathil muthamittal

O! Flower of the heavens,
Why that forlorn look in your eyes?

You are the life’s beginning
and the visible horizon.

You swept like the breeze
and stayed as the breath.

O! Sanguine surge in the soul...

You are my akin as well as my foe,
the flower of love and a thorn in the womb,
the cherished rain and the clouting thunder,
a neonate body as well as an aching death

O! Conqueror of death, conferrer of life...

You are my wealth as well as my wrecked ship,
an enriched epic as well as the error in it,
lent light and the bitter tears at night,
my bountiful sky as well as my broken wings,

And the beloved sorrow that I nurtured.triskaidekaphobia

No. I am not moonstruck. Just thought I shall translate/render the title track of the Maniratnam movie - Kannathil Muthamittal, written by Vairamuthu. The lyrics as you see below is the post in my blog dated 13th of June, 2005.