Antic dispositions and feigned benignity...

All the year I spent catching up with jetlag
'Study, or else...' whispered the wrinkled old hag
My poetry is worse than the neighbour's cat
I gave up on the paper, 18 minutes flat!

- Anonymous

And so it is... The examinations are in full swing, nicotine and caffeine consumption is at an all time high, and the figure of insomniac Delhiites has increased twenty-fold. Not that it makes a difference to me, my mother calls me a cockroach anyway...

I asked a friend the other day if she could reveal to me the identity of that figure of greatness, to whom we owe this long tradition of examinations. Of course, she had no clue. Anonymity has certainly come to the rescue of this great creature from the past, or else all the cursing he receives from across the globe would make even the most tolerant and benevolent God question his place in heaven/purgatory and send him straight to Dante's 'Inferno' - for the uninitiated, that means - SEND THE BASTARD TO HELL!

And now, with two exams done and six more to go, lasting till the 14th of May, I see the figure of King Lear enter my brain, enabling me to assume a REAL antic disposition, unlike Hamlet's feigned one, while Puck flies around me waiting to do some mischief upon Oberon's orders, and there in the distance, stands Prospero calling out to me - 'Abhorred slave! A pox on you! Get thee to work, misery!'

Does anyone know a psychiatrist? I need a discount...

Aawaargi...

Was just listening to my favourite ghazal collection, rendered ofcourse by Ghulam Ali sahab... First song my Winamp starts playing - 'Aawaargi...'

Ye dil, ye paagal dil mera
Kyun bujh gaya?
Aawaargi...
Is dasht mein ik sheher tha
Wo kya hua?
Aawaargi...

Kal shab mujhe be-shakl ki aawaaz ne chaunka diya...
Maine kaha, tu kaun hai?
Usne kaha
Aawaargi...

Ik tum ke sadiyon se mere humraah bhi, humraaz bhi...
Ik main ke tere naam se
Na-aashna
Aawaargi...

Ik ajnabi jhonke ne jab poochha mere gham ka sabab
Sehra ki bheegi reit par
Maine likha
Aawaargi...

Ye dard ki tanhaiyan, ye dasht ka veeran safar
Hum log to ukta gaye
Apni suna
Aawaargi...

Kal raat tanha chaand ko dekha tha maine khwaab mein
Mohsin, mujhe raas aayegi
Shaayad sada
Aawaargi...

And then i wrote one of my own, continuing the same tarz...

Humne the dekhe khwaab jo, boseeda ho kar reh gaye
Kirchon ke bikhre farsh par
Aansoo gira
Aawaargi...

[For those who do not know urdu, Im not really in a mood to translate, so do forgive me...]

A 'decent' photograph?

Well, the theory of relativity certainly applies to the 'decency' of this photograph, taken by a self-aimed, timed mobile phone camera, and then hashed... This photograph is brought to you courtesy Sony Ericsson K300i and Adobe Photoshop 7.0...

Taken on the day of the Don Bosco Alumni Association's inaugural meeting and dinner (17th December 2006), after returning home... That is my room in the background, and the light coming from the right is no 'light of divine enlightenment' as someone commented upon seeing this photograph, but just a regular 40 watt Philips slim tubelight... It is the only 'slim' thing to be found in my room...

Khwahishon ke kuch alfaaz...

Sun in the earth
Sunflower
Bird in the air
Rain
Eye within eye
Daybreak

Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never, never see again…

Lives we have never lived
Hopes we have never realised
Fires we have never lit
Loves we shall never, never make again

Sun in the earth
Sunflower
Bird in the air
Rain
Eye within eye
Daybreak

I hear those strange whispers again…

A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust

Rivers, mountains, rain
Rain against a torrid hillscape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these...

I loved rain as a child
As a lost young man
Empty landscapes bleached by a tired sun

And then
And then the southern wind came like a dark, unknown woman
Her eyes scorched my silences
Her body wrapped itself around me like a summer without end

Force me
Hold me
Reach me where no man has gone
Crossing the seven seas
On the wings of fire
I fly towards nowhere

And you
Rivers, mountains, rain
Rain against a scorched landscape of pain
A thousand desires such as these…

* * * * *

I didnt write this stuff... I chanced upon it while listening to the OST of the movie Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi... Very similar flow of thoughts to my own, i thought, what with the pessimism, the rain and all that... maybe our streams of consciousness, pritish nandy's and mine, are distributaries of the same mother river...

Journey On...

Baawra mann dekhne chala
Ek sapna...

Stretching beyond the horizon
The long, lonesome highway
Two feet in battered brown shoes
Fall arrhythmically...

A mind recalls the image of you
Jumping with joy - the best day of your life
The day it was decided, perhaps
That our paths forked thenceforth...

The luncheon where mouths chomped away happily
On bread and cheese and words and smiles
The unspoken barricaded within
The invisible drops swallowed

Shoulders that bend forward with the load of the heavy backpack
Containing pages torn from a diary
A small red velvet jewellery box
A few old ticket stubs

Pitter-pattering feet on the gravel
Recall the long walks and drives among grasses green and setting sun
Eyeing the darkening skies
Evening, or another storm?

Journey On...

(27/2/2007)