Symian thoughts.....लंगूर विचार मंच

Outstanding photograph of a thoughtful langoor, at the Bandhavgarh National Park. Clicked by Prasad Paranjape of Pune . See many of his other wonderful photos here.

I've never seen any animal with such a human like thinking visage/expression.

It's not entirely impossible, that given the sort of scam news we are hearing day after day, about crooks and crooked folk, maybe the langoors are doing a rethink ?

(Like before, the original poem in the Kings language (marathi), and a rough translation in the Queen's)

(photo by Prasad Paranjape)

आम्ही पण
उंचावर वावरतो ,
दुसर्यांनी लावलेली फळे ओरबाडतो ,
आमची स्वतःची मुलं पोटाशी घालतो,
देशाच्या राना कोपर्यात
सोपा खाउ शोधत उंडारतो,
पण
आजकालचे
राजा, बच्चा , बावळा (नाहीतर बलवा ),
आणि इतर चोर लोकान बद्दल ऐकलं
कि वाटत
आपण लंगूर राहिलो तेच बर आहे ........

We too ,
wander
high up there,
enjoy,
grabbing fruits
on trees,
planted
and nurtured
by someone else....

We too,
blindly,
offer our kids
something to latch on to,
when
inability wins.....

We too,
ravish and loot
the country
end-to-end,
for
easy pickings
of treasures.......

Now that
I've heard
of theives
like
Raja,
Batcha,
and Bawla ***
(or is it Balwa, never mind),
I am just
relieved
that
I have remained,
in the end,
a langoor........

***Ministers and scamsters currently in jail for looting the country outrageously in an unending shameless telecommunication corruption scam.

The auspicious green perspective

This poem is being submitted as a post on

“A perspective on roles of Indian Women”

Indusladies 2nd Annual International Women's Day Blog Contest

A fertile green
in several avatars,
She,
is a story
scripted by
the Trees of the Land.

She is the young rice,
childlike green
in the wet fields,
sometimes petulant, drying away
sometimes overcome and washed away,
but when older,
transplanted
unasked,
elsewhere,
to thrive and give of herself,
the woman of rural India...

She is the dainty rose
in a garden,
next to a rowdy guava tree;
holding her own,
sometimes
coquettish in a maiden''s hair,
sometimes
devotional at the heavenly feet;

She revels in friendship
with the champa tree,
as well as the mogra bush,
and gives space
to the jasmines and parijaats
of the world as well
while supporting those
that remain green,
and grow,
but never flower....

And what do you say
about
Lady Mangrove -

She who tolerates
and thrives
in
salty mush,
daily overcome
by waves and tides of misfortunes
some from the sea,
and some
from the land,
rapacious avaricious killers,
out to replace her..

Chained with the
sisters ,
roots entangled
she stands to protect
erosion of those
she considers her own....

Higher up
Shethani style, She sits,
and flowers in season,
a Page 3
of the woods,
laden with fruit,
some sweet,
that go to far off lands,
but some,
when plucked,
by dedicated hands,
and magically processed
turns into
sweet and tasty delights
for the children of the land.

There is of course
an upkeep
for the grand lady;
but such is life
in this land.

But sometimes,
well entrenched
in the land that
empowered her,
She proudly stands,
sheltering
younger and weaker ones,
in her shade,
as she digs deeper
into the earth for her strength;

The warrior tree,
facing the wrath
of the goonda wind
and hatchet elements,
her proud tough spine,
and roots
hanging down
to clutch the earth,
a Mother
fearless
for the children,
the Ma Banyan,
ageless and tough
against
trespassing winds.

Kalpavriksha sentinels,
some who stand,
tall and tough,
Medha Patkars
and Sindhutai Sapkals,
rising up to the skies
to lead...

They give of themselves
in every way,
honest and ramrod straight;
Seasonal slipping branches
landing with a thud,
and industrious hands
fashion them into baskets
and mats;

Born in fertile numbers
Her little fruits,
are taken away
while some drop off,
after she teaches them
to dedicate themselves
to feeding the hungry,
the thirsty,
the revellers,
and the sick.

Tough nuts to crack,
but soft and sweet inside
like their Mother.

And then,
some,
beauties ,
and 'useful'
in their prime,
now isolated,
hurt,
broken,
unable to counter
loneliness,
withering away
in their own Vrindavans.....

This land
is so rich with
Smart trees,
Thinking geriatric trees,
Young beauteous bushes,
Fragrantly divine trees,
Brave defiant trunks
on Leader trees,
Generous altruistic trees,
Ant like small
industrious greens
enriching the land;
but mostly
taken for granted
by all.....


Women Power;
if only
environment
was religion to us,
and greening our Puja,
the women
would get their place
in the scheme of things...



I would like to tag (as per the rules) and request my friends below to participate....:

1. Uma S.
2. Swati Ram
3. Padma R.

The sky bride's trousseau

My friend Sylvia from Seattle, captures the most amazing Sky shots, and its as if, amidst the blue, the jets perform exclusively for her, with their artistic contrails . (water vapor condensations trails) .

Check out some other wonderful skies here.....

Just realized, that the wedding season here, (auspicious days, timings and all, for this year) starts in March..... I guess stuff happens earlier in the Northwest US....:-)

(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)



The shy sky bride,
emerging
from a
quiet,
dark,
cold
winter trip
from her maternal
home;



Her hair,
studded
with silver
flakes and drops,
cold
but shining
as the sun slowly emerges
in the blue,
now at her new marital home....

The in-laws
offer
amazing warmth,
a mild sun,
fluffy clouds,
an aroma of flowers,
and
a special piece
of modern jewelery ....

A Charm bracelet
offered by
jets,
flying
in welcome formation,
in honor of
the new bride....

Karma

Sometimes bloggers participating in a-post-a day schemes, provide you with a ready canvas for your words.

Swaram already heralds spring in her blogpost, with these wonderful photos of flowers from Kodaikanal.

(photo by Swaram's friend)
A confident worldly father,
a mother by the side,
bending
to adjust her shawl
just so,
the newly pink
young daughter,
dew fresh
in the morning breeze,
they stand,
grieving
behind
the old tired
grandparent,
who having
graced the good
and growing times,
now stands
next to the grandchild,
fatigued,
and
a bit lifeless,
before
slipping away,
returning to dust.

A time to bloom
and
a time to wither,
and
in between,
a time,
to bring joy
to so many
enjoying
their sojourn
in the
Garden of Life….

Swaying to the flute and concrete....

This is something I see frequently : the balustrade erected on the lake side on the banks of the slowly vanishing, fast polluting Powai lake, to define a new pedestrian pathway.

Some walk, some see art in the way the rays of the sun interact with the concrete efforts.

The light works wonders , and gives ideas. Don't know what the engineers thought they were building, but.........


(photo by Kavi Arasu)
These are
Gopis,
swaying in beat,
balancing on their
heads,
the milk and dahi
meant for the
God with the flute.....

Back on earth,
the only things
these structures
balance
is a load of humanity,
leaning
and watching
the fast disappearing lake.......

Onward Ho!

My friend Swaram sometimes sees textures in water. Visuals of such clear water flowing over co-operative rocks and pebble pieces are amazing in these polluted days. As always, nature is always sending us a message ....

(photo by Swaram)

We are never
an island,
functioning
in
solitary splendour
as we go through life;

The smooth flow
is almost always
courtesy
the
thousands of
wellwishers,
family
colleagues,teachers
and friends,
who line
our life base.

Flowing is hard work
but
they keep us
from
sinking low
and being absorbed
by
the wayward mud
at the bottom……..

Life Races.....

One sees these stone benches all across public places in Mumbai. Railway stations, Parks, temples and so on. Donated by a generous gentleman in memory of his mother, Smt. Durgadevi Saraf.

This is a photo of the same in a wooded area in Mumbai, called Aarey Colony, which actually started off as a self sufficient Public Dairy project with huge grasslands , milk bottling plants, training centres and so on. Today , parts of this have responded to the Call of the Big Buck, and areas are being given to film studios, builders etc.

A friend , who runs Marathons, possibly occasionally runs here for practice, has probably heard what such benches by the roadside say.


(photo by Kavi Arasu)
The race
to the top
in the
Park of Life;
some
careening in cars,
bending on turns
on
unsilenced bikes,
some forging ahead,
head down,
pedaling furiously
across days,
and some,
footfall after footfall,
breath after breath
straining
at the Achilles....




Benches,
in memory,
of a
late dowager
Durgadevi Saraf,
who has seen it all,
beckon,
pleading with you,
to take a break,
look around,
and feel the peace
at sunrise.

Others
in the race of life
may win against
"someone";
sometimes it is
important
you race against yourself....

Stormy Quiet

A wonderful shot of the ocean at the Maldives island, with the perturbations of a marine population, probably caused by the disturbance of a passing bunch of tourists, peering with their cameras, while the boat spews forth stuff.... my friend Ganesh Balaraman has several more photographs here.


(photograph by Ganesh)
Beneath the calm,
placid,
orderly waters
of the mind
as seen by the others
from a distance,
there lies
closer,
a
traumatic
tumult
of thoughts,
bubbling,
tumbling ,
dashing against
jumping doubts;
some rippling
up to the surface.

A real friend
bends
to ask
and help.

Others stare
far away
at the orderly calm
on the surface,
secretly wondering
at the antecedents
of those causing the tumult;
These are called politicians.

Pigeon thoughts.....

My friend Swaram, has a profusion of Red in her blogpost, a color that takes her back to her childhood and schooldays amidst GulMohur lined roads in Bengaluru

The bird in the photo got me thinking......

She looks on
wisely,
from her perch,
at the profusion
of color all around her.

Nods at the
green of the leaves,
and the sturdy brown
as she grips it
firmly;
she bobs her head
and a thought
seems to move
down the
blue tinted esophagus…..

Like her,
some things
must remain
plain,
grey
and understanding
so that
other brighter folks
find their places in the Sun ……

Views of the Cricketing type.....

I was introduced to blogging after I saw my son's blog, "A Cricketing View". While I blog about everything under the sun, the son has a serious cricket blog.



He recently completed 5 years of blogging , and his path has lead him through interesting communications , with folks like the MCC, guys who make the cricketing software used on TV , and so on. His many cricket friends commented on this occasion.

I did too. In a slightly non cricketing way. As below.




One DNA string
short of a good length,
on a perfect pitch
for
bouncing ideas
sweeping opinions,
and
assorted cuts;
and another chromosome,
dedicated
to
the embroidery of words
not always
black and white...
And millions of
unique
excited protein strings
in the stands,
the 'Lords'
and the 'Eden Gardens'
of the mind;
the story
of a genome
of a blog.