Time

I have disowned time 
for betraying me
and have declared it to be a disgrace
for thieving away your time on earth.

I continue to stay intractable 
and refuse to make any contacts to you,
for the fear that 
someone else would answer, 
instead of you.

I am trying to avenge time 
by holding you immortal
through the last words that we spoke
some eons ago.

I would remain a fool. 
I know... 
because, t-i-m-e is everything.
It heals as well as hurts.

The circle called life

When thinking expands, the thought grows
When thoughts grow, the talk shrinks
When you talk lesser, your action excels
When actions excel, fame increases
When fame increases, you accumulate wealth
When wealth accumulates, happiness brims you
When you are happier, life blossoms
When life blossoms, pride ascends
When pride ascends, you talk more
When you talk more, your act shrinks
When you act lesser, fame decreases
When fame decreases, wealth reduces
When wealth reduces, life gets dull
When life gets duller, the thought grows

and yet again,

When your thoughts grow...


Source: WhatsApp foward
Translated from: A temple inscription in Tamil


The other day, I was wondering... what would I do without such quotes!
Here's for the New Year!!

Comfort

You are that piece of cloth 
that comforts my sweat-drenched lush hairline.

Translation of Poo Avizhum Pozhudhil from Enakkul Oruvan

So, here is the translation of the song Poo Avizhum Pozhudhil from Enakkul Oruvan. By the way, the song takes the credit of being one of the very few songs that has filled my ears the maximum number of times in a loop, without interference from other songs, for days together. There we go...

As the flower unfurls,

my mind sees a thousand dreams.

I float through one dream

and see the same moon.

From her face's innocence,

emerged a radiant smile

and it sprinkled

a myriad lucent flowers.

Then, the skin gets to feel

like the floating cloud.

The clouds entwine

to give birth to the rain.

Your verse traverses through

the notes of my breath,

And there surfaces, the music of love

that warmly drench my inner depths.

Like the effulgent moon

seen in the sky's breadth,

She'd be seen

in this man's expanse.

She spread her stellar wings,

Locked my fingers into hers,

Turned a blind eye

and drew me in dreams.

This is the one state

that escapes the length of time.

No wonder...

I see a million flowers

bloom on my skin.

Poo Avizhum Pozhudhil from Enakkul Oruvan

An intriguing start to this mesmerizing song gives you a feeling that you are travelling hand in hand with your lover into a safe and dim-lit tunnel. Not that just this music bit lets you visualize things; everything in the song spreads your imagination. What more can the lyricist ask for, to get noticed, if the music has already started expressing what you are about to say? One might wonder if it is the composer’s way all through… No. It is a level-play over the entire 4 minutes or so of the song—all elements in the song are in a state of controlled domination. And everything flows so mellifluously—the flow from one tune to another, from one pitch to another, from one thought to another, from one modulation to another, from one emotion to another.

Well if you had noticed the title, good for you. I forget myself so much when I listen to this song that I feel it is not surprising to have forgotten to say which song I am talking about. It is the Poo Avizhum Pozhudil song from Enakkul Oruvan (2014). I am so awestruck by its simplicity. And... Just listen to the strings throughout the song! Such a beauty... either it is subdued and acts as a moral support like a parent behind a kid learning to ride the cycle; or at times a companion to the singer, like the better half with an equal voice; or at times, like the friend who shouts in a chorus, disapproving of the teacher's blames when you are caught in the middle of a mischief at school.

Though the lyricist, Vivek had spoken about the words in this song in a different context, I am still not convinced that he was referring to just that context. I will still leave it to the listener to interpret the unsaid. And yes, very beautiful lyrics that delivers the right imagination for the mood of the song.

Do I even have to talk about Santosh's brilliance? He is a treat to my musical senses.

Not in context to this song, but pertaining to his capabilities, he has got the capability to score for a range of situations so aptly—for a harmless kidnapper who walks coolly after closing a deal, as well as for the yearning lover boy who just got noticed by his girl. What a repertoire!

Though I did not want to translate this song, something made me attempt it. Let's see if I was able to capture the beauty of the words in the song...

Mommy! It is still raining!

When I am happy and you are around,
I am all smiles. I keep my arms wide open.
I walk and look up at you.
I even think you are showering your love on me.

When I am sad and you are around,
I am sober. I don't even swing my arms.
I walk and wait for you to embrace me.
I even think you are crying for me.

And you know...?

I sometimes think that
the crucified Christ,
even with all his energy sapped,
shows his love for you.
He keeps his arms wide open
and is proud to have felt you,
before the rest of the world did.


P.S.: I hope you spot the analogies!

Paradox!

Rain, my dearest...

You bring in so much gloom,
and yet,
there is such glory when you arrive.

Dated - Oct 09, 2014

Rain of Tears

Sometimes my tears would not stop;
like blood gushing from a deep cut...

Ailment

In each minute of the waking hours that I get distracted

I think, 'why you'?

A lesson for the year

People who bitch to you about others are the ones whom you must be wary of... they will not twitch to bitch about you to others!

Book Review - Purple Hibiscus

The title, Purple Hibiscus, very much befits the crux of the tale and is indicative of the crossover of the meek children of a stickler perfectionist and a religiously fanatic father. The crossover is more from the point where they are children who are brought up to say only the most obvious and nothing extempore, and not being able to speak a sentence without stuttering, to children who become mature enough to be able to gather courage to shoulder a huge responsibility at the time of dire straits—especially the narrator Kambili's elder brother Jaja. The purple hibiscus is the shrub that grows at Kambili's aunt's house. Kambili's brother, Jaja, is in particular very interested in the color of the shrub and even brings a shoot from their aunt’s house so that he can grow it in their house. The purple hibiscus is really about Kambili’s brother Jaja.

What is surprising is the reverence and yearning that the children show, especially Kambili, towards their father in spite of his acts of flagellation. They love him in spite of his torturous dealings. 

One interesting aspect is about the presentation of the parts of the book. The Psalm Sunday chapter which is the turning point the novel is placed at the beginning and this makes us look forward to what really happened that made Jaja behave the way he did, and that made his papa behave so violently towards him.

The flow is seamless and the language is simple; it certainly is refreshing to see the simple yet striking analogies at regular intervals, throughout the novel. The Nigerian political situation and the unexpected small twists which are disguised as daily happenings in Kambili's life give the reader enough grip, seriousness, and suspense to hold on to.

As the story progresses, the contrasting elements unfurl and that too without being apparent—like the richness versus the thriftiness in the food that is cooked at Kambili's and the aunt's house; the post-colonial influences on the means of praying at the catholic churches versus the superstitious ways of the praying at the Africa's traditional temples; the abundance versus the dearth and resourcefulness in every aspect at aunt's house versus at Kambili's house; the claustrophobic and curtailed means of living for Kambili and Jaja versus the prevailing freedom of speech and the confidence with which the aunt's children are brought up; Kambili’s mother’s submission to Kambili’s dad’s harshness and her subservient and dependent attitude versus the widowed aunt’s forthcoming and independent attitude towards marriage, and much more.

Purple Hibiscus is altogether, a great debut, a good read, and a no-nonsense book! Kudos to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie! Waiting to read the book Half of a Yellow Sun...

Poetry

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

~ Robert Frost

Self-talk on abnormality

The Prologue
Concerning the idiosyncrasies of anyone, when unusualness lingers around for a long while,
it turns to abnormality; Of late, signs of cheerfulness has dissolved itself into nothingness and obsolescence prevails.

The Monologue
You know, it has been a while... since

I

Smiled at myself in the mirror.
Whistled or sang a note or two of my favorite tunes.
Listened to any of the songs in my collection.
Discovered any new music.
Wondered about the clouds, the sky, the moon, and the stars.
Enjoyed a good dose of the breeze caressing me.

Or
since I wrote or even attempted to...

And

It has been a while since all these thoughts
dawned on me, and...
I still do not want to do any of these,
or even if I did,

It fails to enthuse me.


So,

am I ageing or are these the usual signs of depression
looming around on my birthday eve?


P.S.: Will they let me fool around if I blame writer's block even if I have not thought about writing at all, forget not being able to move my thoughts or wanting to write?

P.P.S.: In fact, I feel like calling it quits; but don't know at what...!.

Hurt. Anger. Wisdom.

y | o | u

are not such a sweet thorn to be touched again and again... 

Translation of Aavaram Poo from Poo

If there are a few movies that I respect, then the one certainly in that list would be the move 'Poo'. A landmark movie for so many reasons, it is a tale of social messages, tragedy, sacrifice, friendship, hardships faced by economically backward, and so much more. I am not qualified enough to appreciate its technical brilliance, but I suppose the level to which it keeps its viewers engaged is certainly a mark of its brilliance.

The movie is about a woman who has been in love with her cousin. It shows largely her viewpoint, but the way a few others feel about the relationship come about very subtly; the others include her cousin, her mom and her sibling, her friend, and at last her uncle. Though their views are shown subtly, only those are harshly pelted on to the flower, and its feelings.

And if there is one person who can be said to walk away with all the laurels, it is Parvathi Menon. She just leaves one wanting for more, because she was not seen in any Tamil movies, in spite of her amazing histrionics. And of course, the director for the characterization of Maari (played by Parvathi). He has shown Maari as a person who bestows unconditional love on her cousin. So much so that if one has to understand the meaning of 'unconditional love', it is from her. How can a person still love the other, even after they know that the person can no longer be part of their life again? I say unconditional because, it is not with a compromise made on her marital life; she adores her husband and yet wants to see her cousin happy, but just in vain. Just amazing characterization!

This one song that I have attempted to translate (Aavaram poo annalil irunthe...) depicts the movie's storyline briefly--it says about the yearnings of a woman, here the flower; the flower, and hence the title of the film, Poo. A very beautiful and simple composition by S S Kumaran is brought to life by Chinmayi, with the way she emotes the flower's yearnings, for the unrequited love in her life, and the way she is poised in her life. Not to mention Na. Muthukumar's beautiful yet uncomplicated lyrics that portrays a person's state of affairs--it is one reason that it is mostly his songs that I often attempt to translate; it is just that I realize this only after I am done with most of the translation work.

Here we go...

For whom has this flower been waiting,
so forlorn?
It has kept its bloom, bearing the dusk, 
the noon, the rain, and the scorching sun...
just for you.

Will not the root know,
this flower's love for its own root,
even if unsaid?

It sways in the wind and follows your way.
It keeps all its petals unfurled,
with all juvenile memories, to its dismay.
All the age-old sweet nothings,
would be just mine for me to assay.

Dearth and the dead leaves shout aloud,
about shortcomings and sufferings.
And all my words, hush up into the cloud.

For a lifetime, it upholds a penance
standing one-legged, to become a garland 
that decorates your firm chest, perchance.
It freezes in the chill, holding its life,
and would flourish at your one glance.

You are its colors and its fragrance,
and would perish, 
if you forsake it...

Will not the root know,
this flower's love for its own root,
even if unsaid?

For whom has this flower been waiting,
so forlorn?
It has kept its bloom, bearing the dusk, 
the noon, the rain, and the scorching sun...

It has been a long time since I wrote, leave alone translated any. I hope I have done justice... 

Some thoughts for reference and reflection

Never cut what you can untie.
 ~ Joseph Joubert

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
 ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Perhaps no place in any community is so totally democratic as the town library. The only entrance requirement is interest.
~ Lady Bird Johnson

Santa Claus has the right idea. Visit people once a year.
~ Victor Borge

Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics, is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
~ Christopher Hampton

I told the doctor I broke my leg in two places. He told me to quit going to those places.
~ Henny Youngman

The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.
~ Alden Nowlan

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

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die, so, let us all be thankful.
~Buddhist Quote

The best way to escape from a problem is to solve it.
~ Alan Saporta

If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.
~ Abraham Maslow

Renunciation is not getting rid of the things of this world, but accepting that they pass away.
~ Aitken Roshi

Classical music is the kind we keep thinking will turn into a tune.
~ Kin Hubbard

The Beach Sand

You are like the beach sand in my house...
Annoying, yet a memento of the beautiful moments.

Down the memory lane

Yesterday, I had a chance to do an offbeat task. Visit my client office and collect some artifacts. All went well, and while coming back, I did not take the matter-of-fact and the serious main road but the casual by-lanes and oft taken routes. In that 10 to 15 minutes ride, I had refreshed and recollected about 5 - 6 years of my life, and more.

The no-entry rules and the workaround for that, the number of times stranded in the bottlenecks created by the traffic, the workaround for that, the chat kiosk from Kolkotta, the things that we ate—mishtti dhoi, paratha, pulkha, other bengali chat (in fact I wanted to stop and eat something there; but did not. I searched slowing down my bike and I think I had missed it), the times when I used to take the train to come back from office, the road that I used to take to walk and reach my house, the place where I lived, the vacant plot adjacent to the house that is now filled with enclosures, the cable TV office, my jogging track, the inspirations after the weekend run, the juice shop, the playground, the cricket matches conducted on the playground, the ATM, the early mornings of the gym days, the new super market, the various routes taken to reach the favored destinations.

It's been a good life!

Socrates' Triple Filter Test

Here is an interesting conversation between Socrates and an acquaintance:

Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students?

Wait a moment. Before you tell me I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test.

Triple Filter?

That's right. Before you talk to me about my student, let's take a moment to filter what you're going to say. The first filter is Truth. Are you absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true"

No. I just heard about it and...

Alright. So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter - the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my student something good?

No, on the contrary...

So. You want to tell me something bad about him, even though you're not certain if it's true?

The man shrugged, a little embarrassed.

You may still pass the test though, because there is a third filter - the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?

No, not really...

Well, If what you want to tell me is neither True nor Good nor even Useful, why tell it to me at all?

Translation of Nenjukulle from Kadal

I have tied you to my bosom,

unaware of the direction my living would wake to.

You bestowed such pristine looks

that my heart is now tarnished,

as a mirror splattered with water.

Colored beads and the watch on your left

are just enough 

to tame the beasts of the forest!

You were gone but your shadow did not.

When they fell between my bosom,

I rose to see you and have never ceased to rest!

Now, my heart is rigid and tensed,

like the umbrella spokes, strained and stretched.

The birds have slept and milk has curdled,

even the leaves on the trees have retreated!

At the time when the ones whooping have slept,

the one smitten with desire cannot respite, 

for even a few minutes...

Not a morsel slid through...

not even did a drop touch the throat!

Neither did the saliva see the tunnel's end.

How could the poor wretched lass utter a word?

Indeed, can the rubbered bangles yearn to jingle?

Well, it is not an exaggeration if I say that Nejukulle from Kadal is the new silence in my life. My ears are filled with just that and nothing else, except when I have to meet the obligations of mankind, you know, like listening to them when they talk.

And I am not too sure what in that song caught my fancy! Perhaps Rehman ruling through his harmony on the accordion. I think, for a fact, the accordion and the violin gains more sound space than the singer. Or maybe,  its because I am seeing this song performance as a first of its kind--the MTV unplugged session. And undoubtedly, Sakthi Shree Gopalan does a very neat job.

Whatever the case maybe, I loving it. 

Every bit of it. 

I may have more to say but no words would fit!