Spare me spring-time, this year.
Saturated color, perfect pastels
Arrangements of adequate proportion and number
A continuous striving for harmony in monotonous buzzing spaces
Counted, shaped, pruned and prosperous
Spare me rhythmic repetition and those horrendous bursts-
Of obviously unexpected fake cheer and inane contrived mystery.
Clutch instead at words retrieved from dusty clarity,
Hold them from slipping into this anonymity of spring.
Give me hungry words, intense as dust choking my breath.
Words that lie parched in the sun,
then swell with the rain and flood the spirit.
Give me words that fight to live.
There are these words of power, that escape as whiffs
From traffic jams and haggling vendors and pollution and hunger-
In little puffs, there are genuine smiles, real anger
Catch those crests and weave them into words for me again.
Give me words that ooze and crack and bleed
Spare me the flowers, this year.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
If you're Indian (or India-aware), you're likely to be familiar with the name 'IIT', and what it might mean to someone in Class 12 studying science. In case you're neither of those, suffice it to say that a while ago, about ten or twenty ambitious, intelligent 16 year olds in the country killed themselves because they couldn't get into the IITs to study engineering. A handful of others would die after getting into this prestigious institute, and it usually had nothing to do with the academic pressure, which was, and is, legendary.
But what I'm about to tell you today has nothing to do with those many suicides. It's about a fish tank in a cafeteria in one of the oldest IIT campuses. It's an extremely well-kept, large tank, out in the open where sunlight filters through trees and glistens off a dozen large white fish. Try and take a look at it sometime, even perhaps as you rush into the cafeteria to ask directions to the railway station, desperately trying to beat traffic and get on the train home. With my need to notice and admire them even as we rushed on our way, and your annoyance with my lack of focus on flagging an auto down. Really, did you think I would forget how to wave my fingers to get the driver's attention if I did not focus all my energies on my arm ?
In a rambling walk over the hills of thought, with perhaps a little dabbling in streams of consciousness on the way home, my point has to do with those fish, and our differing reactions to them. The point itself is a simple one, and short too-
Happiness is peripheral.
If I could offer only piece of advice to you and get you to accept it, that would be it. Life is ridiculously hard, and ignoring peripheral joy doesn't make it simpler. The big issues are and always will be the big issues.
Work.
Food.
Health.
Money.
Relationships.
There will never be enough of the first few, and there will always be one too many inconvenient relationships. But happiness weaves itself in and out of it all, and keeps you company through all the striving, if you only pay a little attention.
Instead, we walk these long difficult roads, with me stopping to pick dandelions and watch butterflies and fish, and you dragging me back to keep my eyes on some far-off, as yet invisible grand prize that we are all endlessly striving for. When I show you the dandelions, you only say, "That's not important right now." "Let's stay focused here." You remind me- the road is long, it will soon be night, we are running out of food and must make for the next town for resources, or wolves might fall on us in the night. We must hurry, and hurry now. Don't lose sight of the big picture. The dandelions can wait.
For what, I wonder? And why?
But what I'm about to tell you today has nothing to do with those many suicides. It's about a fish tank in a cafeteria in one of the oldest IIT campuses. It's an extremely well-kept, large tank, out in the open where sunlight filters through trees and glistens off a dozen large white fish. Try and take a look at it sometime, even perhaps as you rush into the cafeteria to ask directions to the railway station, desperately trying to beat traffic and get on the train home. With my need to notice and admire them even as we rushed on our way, and your annoyance with my lack of focus on flagging an auto down. Really, did you think I would forget how to wave my fingers to get the driver's attention if I did not focus all my energies on my arm ?
In a rambling walk over the hills of thought, with perhaps a little dabbling in streams of consciousness on the way home, my point has to do with those fish, and our differing reactions to them. The point itself is a simple one, and short too-
Happiness is peripheral.
If I could offer only piece of advice to you and get you to accept it, that would be it. Life is ridiculously hard, and ignoring peripheral joy doesn't make it simpler. The big issues are and always will be the big issues.
Work.
Food.
Health.
Money.
Relationships.
There will never be enough of the first few, and there will always be one too many inconvenient relationships. But happiness weaves itself in and out of it all, and keeps you company through all the striving, if you only pay a little attention.
Instead, we walk these long difficult roads, with me stopping to pick dandelions and watch butterflies and fish, and you dragging me back to keep my eyes on some far-off, as yet invisible grand prize that we are all endlessly striving for. When I show you the dandelions, you only say, "That's not important right now." "Let's stay focused here." You remind me- the road is long, it will soon be night, we are running out of food and must make for the next town for resources, or wolves might fall on us in the night. We must hurry, and hurry now. Don't lose sight of the big picture. The dandelions can wait.
For what, I wonder? And why?
Monday, January 04, 2010
Of (oxy)morons..
Voice your opinion.
VOTE NOW.
Express your feelings.
Follow your innermost dreams to the point of idiocy. Not insanity, which would be far more acceptable, at least to me.
Self-expression is often over-rated. Why is the constant casting forth of the self so important? So much more fun to sit back and watch people act like morons in an attempt to convince the world they're right and interesting and their opinions on furniture design, hangovers and good restaurants are of greater significance to the world than most other things.
Suddenly, so few people seem worth engaging in conversation with. Am I talking to the wrong people, or talking about the wrong things?
(Yes, I realize this post makes me sound like a conceited, opinionated jerk too.If you don't like it, please excuse yourself while I finish growing up here.)
Even my silence is filled with these opinions- foolish, conceited opinions that leave me unsatisfied and disgusted, yet unable to move past them into things more meaningful and permanent.
VOTE NOW.
Express your feelings.
Follow your innermost dreams to the point of idiocy. Not insanity, which would be far more acceptable, at least to me.
Self-expression is often over-rated. Why is the constant casting forth of the self so important? So much more fun to sit back and watch people act like morons in an attempt to convince the world they're right and interesting and their opinions on furniture design, hangovers and good restaurants are of greater significance to the world than most other things.
Suddenly, so few people seem worth engaging in conversation with. Am I talking to the wrong people, or talking about the wrong things?
(Yes, I realize this post makes me sound like a conceited, opinionated jerk too.If you don't like it, please excuse yourself while I finish growing up here.)
Even my silence is filled with these opinions- foolish, conceited opinions that leave me unsatisfied and disgusted, yet unable to move past them into things more meaningful and permanent.
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