Tuesday, November 25, 2014

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.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

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...

Friday, October 17, 2014

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!

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Paradox!

Rain, my dearest...

You bring in so much gloom,
and yet,
there is such glory when you arrive.
Dated - Oct 09, 2014

Friday, September 05, 2014

Rain of Tears

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

Friday, June 20, 2014

Ailment

In each minute of the waking hours that I get distracted

I think, 'why you'?

Sunday, December 29, 2013

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!

Monday, September 16, 2013

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...

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Poetry


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

~ Robert Frost

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

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...!.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Hurt. Anger. Wisdom.


y | o | u
are not such a sweet thorn to be touched again and again... 


Monday, March 18, 2013

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... 

Thursday, February 07, 2013

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

Friday, January 04, 2013

The Beach Sand



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

Wednesday, December 05, 2012

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!

Thursday, November 29, 2012

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?

Saturday, November 10, 2012

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!

Friday, November 02, 2012

Repentance

The rain poured softly,
very unlike and strange,

perhaps weeping silently,
for its past and future sins
that it could not wash off...

even by itself?

~ a few weeks ago

Friday, October 26, 2012

If we try - Don McLean


When I see you on the street, I lose my concentration.
Just the thought that we might meet, creates anticipation. 
Won’t you look my way once before you go
and my eyes will say what you ought to know?
Well, I've thinking about you day and night
and I don’t know if it'll work out right.
But somehow I think that it just might,
if we try... 
Faces come and faces go, in circular rotation.
But something yearns within to grow beyond infatuation.
Won’t you look my way once before you go,
and my eyes will say what you ought to know?
Well, you've got me standing deaf and blind
'cos I see love is just a state of mind,
and who knows what it is that me might find
if we try... 
You are walking in a different direction
from most people I've met.
You're giving me signs of affection
I don’t usually get.
I don't want you to pledge your future,
the future is not yours to give.
Just stand there a little longer
and let me watch while you live. 
‘Cos when I see you on the street, I lose my concentration.
And just the thought that we might meet, creates anticipation.

This song just caught me off guard when I was concentrating on my work (you know, something like the sour-sweet grapes). 

One of the aspects of a good song is when you realize that it has finished playing too soon. And this one certainly falls in that category. Simple, meaningful, interesting lyrics. And nothing really to talk about the composition. It just flows through! It has been a long time since I had listened to such a song with so much concordance! It is a short song and one can certainly quote this song as an example for 'short and sweet'.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Calories!


Not much, there are just three problems with calories:
  • our spend potential: the cost of acquisition is cheaper than the cost of disposition.
  • our state of mind: you hardly need any mind control to accumulate it than that you would need to dispose it.
  • our time management capabilities: you can access it is quicker than you can expend it.

Of course, the key to disposing the calories lies in the same three factors... like how we do not accumulate calories overnight, disposing it must also be incremental—minute by minute, and with a lots of mind control. And if we are poor enough only to buy incremental calories, and not rich enough to find means to dispose it, I think we must also realize how much we are spending on junk! I guess I must try to deposit an equivalent incremental amount somewhere in a savings which when accumulates large enough would let me buy an equipment of my choice. 

Coming to talk of buying an equipment, with all the search and research that I have done so far, the only conclusion that I could come to was, to get a quality equipment that would give us the satisfaction when we get out of it and the urge to get on to it every day, it would cost nothing less than 50K INR.

Thinking about the realization part, I am sure I would have spent more than 50K INR in eating out in the last 10 years. Hmm... Some food for thought!

Friday, September 28, 2012

The Tinted Glass


Sure that a few seconds from now,
the gods above were to whip and thud.
But then,
don't you think you portray
an exaggerated, inflated, and creepy picture
of nature's present?

Indeed, the heart thumps louder and faster
with the dark being shown darker
and to see
top of the trees swaying in horror
and to hear
the aggregated swishing sound of its fear!

~ Sep 26, 2012

Friday, September 21, 2012

The cool and the calm


When you are around,
the world, even on a sunny and a busy day,
looks calm and cool,
as felt when viewing from the other side of
a tint-glassed, air-conditioned building.

P.S.: This is dedicated to the six-year stint in my current organization.

Wednesday, September 05, 2012

Coming of age


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

What a beautiful quote from A Word A Day (AWAD). Great find Mr. Anu Garg!

Monday, August 27, 2012

Translation of Idhu Varai from Goa

The Mellifluous Love Song


Woman:
This is a never-before feeling.
It is the dream that shaped in my heart.
Do you hear the song about the splendid day?

A thing masked unintentionally
is now seen blooming all by itself,
exposing what was never explored ever before.

As I see happiness brimming over,
I wonder when I would realise my true state of affairs?
Days snail by with a heaving heart and sleepless nights...

The unceasing dream torments me without pain,
and teaches me about the teasing pleasures.

Come on! O dear! You must come along,
'Cos the journey of mine is far too long!

Man:
There... I see the cloud and moon waltzing.
Oh! Who would empathize my feelings?

My heart isn't as yours... I perceive a change,
and a parade of an esoteric portrayal of itself.

Woman:
My dear... calm down! I assure this will pass by.

Man:
My bosom abounds with a spirited feel.
I see dearer relationships blooming aplenty,
and the doors opening up to a roomful of hope!

My skin wakes up to myriad feelings,
the breeze blankets itself on me,
and the raging desire rushes ahead!

Monday, August 20, 2012

Idhu Varai from Goa



What a beautiful composition Yuvan has conceived and how wonderfully Andrea and Ajeesh have delivered! This is more of a what you see is a what you get song, the song featuring just the stage instruments that the video shows--the simple live drums arrangement, the guitar, something that sounds like a cross between harmonium and mouth organ. The flute rendition of the motif although short is nonpareil.

Otherwise, it is Andrea all the way—the initial opera-styled singing, the stylish overtones at some places and the soft and whispering overtones at some. And at times, an abated voice sung in short of breath. Ajeesh joins the party late and performs what was expected—giving a lover's intonation of being in dilemma. And at later stages, the growing strength in his voice expressing the realization of love and gives a feeling of flying.

The climbing ensemble of piano, cello, violin, and the voice gives a befitting finale for the climax of the song.

Coming soon, a translation / rendition of this song...


Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Rain


The sky poured its heart out...
To clear the cloud in its head.


Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Translation of Kaatril Enthan Geetham from Johnny


The Pensive Song

My song in the wind searches for the invisible,
with my memories alike the swaying waves,
and the evening wind as chilly as never!

There is this teasing merriment all around,
and the words inside me searches for its music.
Won't it not find the loving heart?
Won't it not sing the song of joy?

The forlorn eyes escalate the heart's yearning.

It is just fine if my heart listens, 
if I ask it to stop, and just enough 
if the tormenting waves in it cease to arise...
Won't it hear the melody in stillness?
Won't it stitch up a rhythm from silence?

My soul would seek yours until its time of life.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Translation of Sota Sota from Engeyum Eppothum

Hail L O V E, the conqueror...!


You...
Soak me up beyond reason, 
Enrage me even without a word,
Make me fly far from reach.
You almost melted me, and 
Teased me with your elusion.
And
had to chide me to realize your love.


My heart always shudders
like the rail that runs the train.


One fine day, you fell into my eyes 
like a fertile seed,
And when I flicked my eyes,
there you were,
grown as a huge tree in my heart.


I wonder what would happen next?
The heart would sure 
fake what just happened.


Like a curious kitten, love peeks out,
And checks up on the limits of impulse.
Yes it does, it does, and defeats.


The God made the man's heart
out of cold wax and made it melt,
every second that it saw the beloved.


A menacing silence prevails.
And I am just loving it.


Your words and breath struck me, 
and left me helpless.
The memories that you left behind
sparked, and conquered me.


Yes it did, it did, and won me over.

Monday, July 09, 2012

Therapy

Even the hardest to swallow as well as the most bitter of conversations did not deter the enthusiasm that a circumstantially withdrawn set of songs created, when it was rediscovered after about six years. 


I think this delight is called music therapy.


P.S.: This post takes the honor of receiving the most number of predefined tags!

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Joy Edges


The slope-edges started dripping pearls of joy,
and the sideways were filled with the elixir.
The earth heaved a sigh of relief!


Sounds of buzz, splash, and plops permeated the air.
Trespassers off the slope were dispersing,
as if out of a cinema,
or perhaps out of a school gate?


A few were thoughtful, and a few gloomy.
The stoic were clueless of these moments of joy.
The prosaic few, happy--of getting to their destination,
and a very few upset, 
as it was the end of j - o - y.


~ June 20, 2012

Thursday, June 07, 2012

The love for lists and a beautiful life


The smell of water vapours on hot cemented floor, the sleeping child on your shoulder, the surprises thrown by a random music playlist, the crispness in the setting sun seen through tinted glass, the blazing full moon, the compact body of a one-year old, the wandering mind, the yearning for yesteryears, the full bloom of a flower-bearing tree, the soft-colored tones of a frangipani, the flower-bedded street, the warmth of a loving friend, the sleepless nights, the thoughts that make you sleepless, elation after producing a work of art, words that you get right the first time, the mischief of a two-year old, the endearing smile indicating a mischief, shout of disapproval of a yet-to-verbalize kid, the day of a realization, the rhythm that lets makes you move your shoulder.


and the list will go on...

Monday, May 28, 2012

· · · — — — · · ·


I felt like


I had a high temperature.


Or, was it like
sitting next to a heat furnace
with fuming rods of red?


Or may be
I was seeing molten fluid
flowing on and through my skin...


You say: Naah! 
You were facing the 2 o clock heat.


But the truth was...


It was 6 'o clock in the evening
and I was facing a 40 kmph
w a v e  o f  H e a t.


~ May 24, 2012

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Translation of Thendral Vandhu from Avatharam


Colour of Music


I wonder...
What's the colour in your heart,
when the breeze brushes your skin?
What's the colour in your thoughts,
when you see the shine of sky's akin?

As I see the resurgence of colours' splendor
In my mind, it occurs...
Indeed each thought has a different color.
Isn't it the truth, my sweet love?
(In truth, what is it that exists,
and what about its colour?)

Flowers spread fragrance, but without revelation.
Hearts speak consensus, devoid of a lawful union.
Cuckoos sing the melody, not for one man's whimsy.
My heart feels a mystic bliss, but nothing do I fancy.

This world is alike a stream
and time runs afloat
like the planks that afloat.

Inconstantly crosses my mind,
a thousand colours!

A sprinkle sweeps the earth, and lives spring alive.
Love leaps in my mind, and skin's million gets a high.
Wishes swing along, like the pendent banyan roots.
Beauty bestows magic, like the swaying tuft of waves.

The cuckoo's clan sings aloud
in music's own voice,
and a flock of parrots recount this story.

Neither does love fade like a forgotten story,
nor is it forgotten like an unworthy puzzle's mystery.

If I say Ilayaraja is the alchemist who brought alchemy between the verse and the music, I am certain that I am not overstating. And with that I do not have any other credits to give to the composer of this beautiful song. 'Thendral vandhu...' from the movie Avatharam has got beautiful lyrics. It is a perfect example of symmetry, and both music and the verses manage to display both grandeur and simplicity all at once. The song very beautifully captures the philosophy of life, vividness of colors, and the characters' love for each other. Ilayaraja's voice creates another dimension and the coherent chorus is certainly the forte of the song.

This work started on May 10, 2009 as an impromptu and brief attempt at translating the pallavi of the song and three years later, I remembered to work on the translation of this song to extinguish some anguish. Personally, this work is a success of the mind over mindlessness.

As an afterthought, I seem far more satisfied with the words written three years ago than of those written today. Not sure if it really is so...


P.S.: One important link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=563qJOreBqI

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...