romantic comedy

i believe that god is watching over us all the time.

and because I've been granted rather minuscule proportions of brain, my perception of it brings to mind a laaaaaaaaarge cabin, with billions of t.v. monitors.. each of our lives playing on those screens.

maybe god categorises these "motion pictures" into categories according to

1) age groups: the ones, twos, threes....

2) type of activities: drama, comedy, suspense, tragedy, action....

3) the characters we play: heroes, bad people, sidekicks, comedians.....

4) the level of entertainment we provide: with star ratings....

what category would i belong to is constant curiosity...

have i been "heroes" ?

would my life look like a "comedy" from up there?

i would like to be watched as a hero in a romantic comedy with 5 star rating.....

:)

these have happy endings, its funny all the way, only the climax maybe sad, and i can be all glory...... :)

i felt a desire to have such a review of our lives before us... then i was reminded that they already exist..... we call them epitaphs.

past days....

by Anne Brontë
'Tis strange to think, there was a time
When mirth was not an empty name,
When laughter really cheered the heart,
And frequent smiles unbidden came,

And tears of grief would only flow
In sympathy for others' woe;
When speech expressed the inward thought,
And heart to kindred heart was bare,
And Summer days were far too short
For all the pleasures crowded there,

And silence, solitude, and rest,
Now welcome to the weary breast
Were all unprized, uncourted then
And all the joy one spirit showed,
The other deeply felt again;
And friendship like a river flowed,
Constant and strong its silent course,
For nought withstood its gentle force

a thought...

strange it is, that we are given the world to live in, and we take it and build walls to confine ourselves......

......and it rained :)

a drop of rain fell to the ground,

and met my face instead....

it fell like a tear to the corner of my lips,

and when i parted them to smile,

it tasted like freedom :)

moonshine and love

I will tell you.
Many Years ago there was a young handsome Shepherd (who fed his flocks on a Mountain's Side) called Latmus - he was a very contemplative sort of a Person and lived solitary among the trees and Plains, little thinking - that such a beautiful Creature as the Moon was growing mad in Love with him - However so it was; and when he was asleep on the Grass, she used to come down from heaven and admire him excessively from a long time; and at last could not refrain from carrying him away in her arms to the top of that high Mountain Latmus while he was dreaming -


-john keats

time and tide

i look upon a bird called time,
feeble voiced and deathly pale,
resting from war, weary, weak,
yet mute endeavour to tell its tale...

who stole the wind from its wings,
what beast devoured its breath?
i wonder while the bird called time,
plays daunting games with death.

it sings a song and lifts a feather,
battered by rain and storm,
then wraps its life within its wings,
its shroud to keep it warm.

identity crisis

this question seems to be a constant stimulus for thought.

how do you introduce yourself to a complete stranger? my name means nothing. nationalities, they are only man made. professional qualification? dad's name? likes and dislikes? religious faith? would they define me?

do we have identities? rather, must we have identities? is it really imperative to life?

over the years i visit the same quiery. but contrary to a hope in wisdom, i've not found an answer to satisfy myself.

sometimes these quieries occur to me as far from clarifying answers...... the question being "who am i?"

reflections / mirages

i looked at a mirror, and i did see,

a perfect stranger staring back at me.......

first lessons in loss

as if the days grow weary of me
they come and go so callously,
and there you live, oblivious of this,
that with you dwells my joy and bliss,
all the love and strength that i sought,
is born and buried with every thought,
that brings you back to memory,
when the moon comes down to sleep with me.

so come your thoughts in lonely hour,
and tell me of the deepest scar,
but oh! joy! i know its true,
the same moonlight does sleep with you..

17/7/00, my first sense of loss.....

one of the crushed truths

The forceps of our minds are clumsy forceps, and crush the truth a little in taking hold of it
HG Wells

guilty as charged

most of the lessons i've learned have been the hard way. that's because i've wronged people. there is a certain glory in being the victim, who rises to the light of knowledge after ignorant naivety, learning one's lesson in caution. i have met my teachers however, at the tail end of this glorious horse.

the guilty. the charged. charged with treason, carrying a weapon, sentenced to.... permanence?

i've learned my lessons, but without glory. i've accepted myself for them, never made them twice, but what of it? why is it so tht the lessons i learned cannot help the ones i wronged? why must guilt have no correction?

sorry is a word i use often. even so, its not the eraser or correction fluid we mean it to be. a short while ago, i tried to relieve myself of the worms in my conscience, by apologising to those people i know i've hurt. it didn't help me one bit. well, what did help me was knowing that they had moved on beyond that spot i'd stopped at and revisited so many times. the injuries i'd inflicted on them carried no permanent mark.

but those same injuries translocated themselves onto me. my apology, and every word in it, hurt me. the guilt remained. the hurt added onto it. it is disillusioning. even today, i hurt people, but i find it just as impossible to "make it up" to them, if such a thing exists. i hope to be someone who always gets it right. .................well, almost always, when its important.......

i don't know what to title this one....

i was in a train, on a journey back home from a place 18 hours away. mid afternoon in a sleeper class coach leaves you with nothing to do but read/ listen to music/ talk to others, options which i exhausted rapidly. i submitted myself to watching a world framed by a grilled window. i wouldn't be able to tell you when it happened but i felt a gentle detachment from the world, like i was born again. my nascent memory couldn't recall the tall green leafy "things" that filed up against my view, my hands in my lap looked alien, the people in my compartment seemed like a hitherto unseen species of presumably civilized existence. it was as though i had unlearned everything i had acquired in life.

it was a mesmerising feeling that evaporated almost as soon as the fascination shone in. a new fresh start. your dirty slate wiped clean. a spectral bubble of promise and anticipation that burst only because i touched it with feeling it. life after that has been distinctly but unfathomably different. it still seems like god rearranged something in my life, and at that moment he hit the pause button.

slowing down in life can be about as hazardous as its break-neck speed. it makes me conscious of the several people who live in me.when i slow down to "smell the flowers" these "people" sequestrate as though each of my individual senses assume independent human form.it is at these brief episodes when i can watch my own life from a second, third, even fourth person point of view. it may sound to you adequately profound for maturity, but the truth is i never know of what consequence it might be or what is to be done with it.

then there are times when my other selves can't express themselves. life runs so fast that my integral self falls short of it. any effort to capture it reveals a blur, devoid of direction, colour or feature. at present i live in my latter self, trying to catch up with life, marvelling at the absolute servitude of god that we dwell in. for us, security means to hold, possess, sense in some way, anything we love, any place even person.... it is a deep-rooted compulsive human tendency, that is the defaming catalyst of the divinity of love. only god can achieve this, to make man understand and lose his perspective at once. where our perspective and understanding meet, i imagine, we'll touch the hem of god for one breathless moment....