Loaded with Responsibility ?

This is probably one, of a pair of elephants, mounted as a pillar or "stambh" at the hill Temple in Kollur, in the south, 140 kilometres inland from Mangalore on the western coast. Many folks who live in Mumbai, have family deity temples in these areas.

My blogger friend Magiceye, clicked this on one of his trips. (While I generally download photos with the photographer's permission for this blog, I couldn't do so for this one , for technical/copyright reasons. I did mention it to Magiceye on a chat, and lo behold, I magically got the elephant in my email ! Thank you !)

While I have the utmost admiration for the tough workmanship in ancient times, one cant help feeling how relevant this graphic is, to the situation in many countries, particularly, India, today .....

(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)

Wrapped in chains,
presumed
artistic and decorative,
as tax paying citizens,
they stand,
quietly to the side,
solid in
their ordinary minds,
slogging
to support
the weight
of the nation's problems,
in their own,
God fearing,
dedicated ways....

Not so ,
our elected navigators
and mahouts,
bending away from it all,
absolving themselves ,
yet
poking and urging us
to carry
a bit more;
taxes,
insecurities,
prices,
doubts....

The God
inside the temple,
alone,
knows the truth....

Hear it from the Myna !

My young friend Adityavardhan Paranjape of Pune, has a special knack of photographing birds. He lives in a very traditional part of Pune City, Narayan Peth, and has been checking out this myna who , according to him, maintains a residence on the electric pole outside his house.

Though the myna probably does not need electricity for her day to day living, I can see, why she is stridently shouting about something. Some folks tell it like it is ......


किती सांगू मी तुम्हाला ,
आयुष्य किती खडतर असतं;
धड उभा राहायला सपाट जागा नाही ,
एकामेकाला गुंडाळून ठेवतात सगळे ,
ह्या वायर सारखे ;

हा दिवे चालू ठेवतो,
तो टीव्ही चालू ठेवतो ;
ती इस्त्री बंदच करत नाही ,
आणि रिकाम्या खोलीला पंखा
वारा घालतच राहतो .
ओरडून ओरडून सांगत्ये केव्हाची :
विजेचा वापर कमी करा ,
पण
आज काल
नारायण पेठेतल्या
तारेवर बसलेल्या म्हातारीला
विचारतोय कोण ?

Need I
go on and on
about how difficult
living has become ?

No place,
flat enough
to stand,
everyone running
circles
around everyone else,
like these
wires
wrapped around the cables.

Some keep the lights burning,
some TV's are never Off....
She insists on
keeping the heat
permanently on the iron,
and the fan,
helplessly whirls
in an empty room.

I've been shouting
from my
electric perch,
save electricity,
reduce consumption;
but who listens
to an old birdwoman
sitting
on an electric wire
in Narayan Peth ?

Short Circuits in Life......

Blogger friend Abha Vatsa Midha posted this on G+. The photograph has a lot of attitude.

What struck me was the relentless swinging of the skipping rope, and the endless jumps of the younger entity. Certain all pervading strong companies , sometimes thought of as "Reliable", are very much getting entrenched in the power sector in India.

Monsoon, Mumbai, and Electrical Power , and/or its vanishing act is something we are too familiar with.

Just something that this graphic spoke.....

Big, reliable,
Pillars of Industry types,
twisting rules
and ropes,
to make
the small fry jump,
while
those
in helpless
false sympathy
stand by
hoping
their chance doesn't come.

While paid minions
may power
the swinging ropes,
there is jump fatigue
and end of tolerance
looming,
in the life of the small fry.

A slight slowing,
entangled feet,
and the Big Reliable two
will be
short circuited for life....

Where looks can kill.....

Blogger friend Joshi Daniel, has a very versatile, widely applauded photo blog, Joshi Daniel Photography , where he posts his creations in a very diverse range of categories. As he says , "People photography is where my passion is because faces and stories behind them, life styles, various cultures and traditions fascinates me......".


Winner of numerous awards, such as Nat Geo Moment Awards 2011, 2010 Photoblog Awards, Smithsonian magazine’s 7th annual photo contest, Nikon-Better Photography Photographer of the Year 2009 Awards, Vodafone presents India 9-5 Contest, he has also exhibited some of his work, at the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival 2011, held in Mumbai under the theme ‘Faces’.

He recently posted this photo. Of a practitioner of the Kalaripayattu, one of the oldest fighting systems , a martial art practiced in and native to, Kerala, India.

Mr Joshi Daniel has kindly permitted me to display it here.

He calls it "Back from the Dead". Shudder .

That piercing gaze had these words tumbling out.....

(photo : Joshi Daniel photography)

Drenched
in the showers
of power,
drunk
on the perceived
inevitability
of his victory,
fueled by a raging anger,
he smashed the door,
expecting
to see her cower
in a corner….

And then,
(unlike
the Mumbai storm water drains),
the bravado
drained him,
spiralling
down into his ankles,
weak in fear.

Facing him,
was
The big
glistening
eye of God,
in the middle
of
two piercing slits
powered by their own
pupils,
preparing for a strike.

The last bright glow...

A lovely photograph (possibly from her garden) posted by my blogger friend Sangeeta, who blogs about organic cooking, healthy cooking, traditional foods, ayurveda and gardens.

healthfood desivideshi
homealone
ayurveda on my plate
banaras ka khana

This made me think. We make so much fuss of illnesses, often when they are age-related. One of the side effects of having a brain, I guess.

And then there is the life of this leaf, splendorously filigreed in dedication to the earth, returning to it, as it bravely approaches the end....

(photo by Sangeeta Khanna)
Blood coursing
unhindered,
unblocked,
racing to heal;

The sap of the earth,
climbing
in immense
sharing
and
self belief,
through trunks
to the coquettish edges
of a
disgruntled leaf;

Helpful thoughts
rushing your mind,
hurrying
the feet
to reach somewhere in time.

It all ends
when the flow stops.
And, life
is all about
how well you
allowed it to flow....

And while we
rue
the stoppage
in geriatric despair,
somewhere,
the delicate green
has turned
bravely,
to
a filigree gold,
like an ode to nature
before
dropping,
silently, back to earth....

Makeup : a bird's eye view in a global world...

My photo-blogger friend, Sylvia, from Tacoma, Washington, has so come "up" in the world, that she now gets amazing mountain views , and visits from worldly wise folks, on her window sill. Sometimes they even preen, pose, and maybe even crib. For a photo. Which she recently posted here.

I wasn't around there , but I do think this is what this bird said....


(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)
Feeling a bit dull
in my old age,
I flew over
Paris,
Milan,
Cologne,
and even London
searching
for that perfect makeup....

And
I finally found it
in Mumbai,
where
they have
fairness creams.

In a moment
of
narcissistic madness,
I peered into
the Sky Mirror
and
slathered it on,
only
to have it
washed off
in a
thundering
Mumbai monsoon cloudburst.

Looks like nothing black
is turning fair,
and
everything
is supposed to be fair
only
if you are flying high.

As for me,
my full throated shouts
about the creme,
have rendered
my neck
arteries and veins visible,
and the
only thing
that has changed , are my eyebrows.

Black to white ?
Gosh,
the weight of people's expectations !
I can't even raise my eyebrows......

The abundance of loss

Sometimes you wonder at the abundance of loss amidst excess of green in some lives. And sometimes, the green isn't organic at all.

Like in this photograph by blogger friend Harekrishnaji, who seems to be on a roll touring the backroads of a Maharashtra in the Monsoon....

I wonder if nature learns from us, or we replicate its attitudes . Must be the former....

(photo by Harekrishnaji aka Priyadarshan Kale)
It's time,
someone painted
firmly,
on the canvas
of her life.

Surrounded by
millions,
seizing the day,
trying for a place,
standing cheek by nodding jowl;

Some even
trespassing to steal,
her home,
sneaking up
tearing her roots,
and then
smiling
and standing there,
as if
it was all theirs,
anyway.

Some so called
tall ones
stand by,
rich green
in their own zone,
as some,
upright types,
unbending
in the breeze,
put on a show
of distant righteousness.

All those green billions
surrounding them,
enriching their vote base
must be ignored
as
she,
leafless, fruitless,
but tough
in a body and mind,
atrophied with worry
holds on firmly,
to what
she was born with :
Her Earth PAN card......

Seeking the grey...

The latest Camera Critters post from blogger friend Magiceye's Mumbai blog.

Green lifestyles yield harmony.

At the end of the day, despite differences, we all enjoy the same branch and same tree.

(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)
While the
Bollywoodian
parrots, parakeets,
kingfishers, and orioles,
pretend,
to enjoy
a Page-3 world,
with a
haughty toss
of their hi-fi feathers,
the
very middle class
but gracefully simple
folks
of the
black-and-white-cinema days,
minding their own business,
realize,
that
their supporting branches
amidst
the peaceful green
are always
a
Mandelian grey....

The Dance is the Message

One of the many photos posted by blogger friend Harekrishnaji, on his drives out of Pune and Mumbai this monsoon, en route from Thoseghar to Kas. You can see more of his photographs here.

Incursions of brick and mortar in places that still boast of virgin forests, cascading rivers, and rivers in a monsoon rush across the plains, and nature has a habit of appearing in divine form , nudging us , and sometimes, glaring at us, so we get the message.

Like this bare tree, trying its darnedest best to portray the Shiva as Nataraj........

(in both marathi ad english)

(Fritzof Capra in his article "The Dance of Shiva: The Hindu View of Matter in the Light of Modern Physics," and later in the The Tao of Physics beautifully relates Nataraj's dance with modern physics. He says that "every subatomic particle not only performs an energy dance, but also is an energy dance; a pulsating process of creation and destruction…without end…For the modern physicists, then Shiva's dance is the dance of subatomic matter. As in Hindu mythology, it is a continual dance of creation and destruction involving the whole cosmos; the basis of all existence and of all natural phenomena.")


(photo by Harekrishnaji)
अनादी काळ
मानवाने आधाशी पणाने
दगडांवर छिन्नीने मारलेले व्रण ,
हिरवाई ओरबाडून
सिमेंट-विटांनी केलेली नाटकं,
नद्या अडवून रागावलेले बंधारे ,
आणि एक
सर्व काही हरवलेला वृक्ष ,
कड्यावर
नटराजाचा आवेशात ,
उरली सुरली हिरवाई ,
गडबडून घरंगळत
कोसळणारी नदी ,
आणि विजायुन्मादाने
वाहणारी नदी
यांची राखण करत
आयुष्याच्या संध्याकाळी ,
तुमच्या डोळ्याला डोळा भिडवत
उभा ठाकतो.....
Avaricious scrapings
by greedy types,
baring
scarred stone
to the elements;
Felling of the green
to accommodate
false
victories in brick and mortar.....
and the desperate river,
blocked by bunds,
raging down ,
in agitated foam,
dissipating
slowly into a flow.

In solitary splendour,
the lone tree
stands,
in the evening of its life,
alone,
bare,
and leafless;
guarding
the riches behind,
in a dance of Shiva.

Creation
must follow Destruction;
and he stands
sentinel-like
doing the cosmic dance,
amidst
few green folks,
at his feet
who seem to understand what he says...

Celebrating in style......

A blogger friend Sangi, of Bengaluru, celebrated a new lovingly furnished abode, and the acquisition of a dearly wanted old style planter's chair for her library nook. Another member, aka Loopy, also seems to have celebrated in perfect style.

Must be the Bengaluru Super Spaniel Fashion Week . Sabyasachi Mukherjee, eat your heart out.......

(photo by Sangi)

Scents
of old furniture polish,
newly painted walls,
a fragrant sambaar,
and a
portly payasam,
the earth
delirious
with the scent of rain
and the lady
of the house
enjoying
a new book
and a
new nook,
in the planter’s chair…..

I wonder
what happened
to my usual neckpiece …..

I guess, this is
Bengaluru Doggy Fashion Week…..

Precarious walks

My blogger friend Magiceye, posting in the "Thursday Challenge Series -Yellow ", clicked and posted the visual below.

Its a photograph taken from atop the Gilbert Hill in Andheri, a western suburb of Mumbai , where the residents range from luxurious seafront apartments, villas, to blue-monsoon-special-roof- tarpaulin covered huts in crowded areas. The contrast continues , in the rules, the facilities and the minds.... the only unperturbed entity being a government in the massive throes of power.....

(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)

What is this
country
coming to.....

Its a circus.
And a massive mismatch.

Those who slog
and practice,
and want to fly,
live entangled amidst
concrete, tarpaulin,
and thorny
economic weeds,
doing
a tightrope walk
everyday .....

And a high flyer
like me,
free and soaring,
in touch with
the powers,
must pretend
to do
a tight pipe walk,
so it looks like
I follow the rules.......

Life of Tea

My blogger friend Sangeeta, is the author of several wonderful blogs, having to do with sensilble organic cooking, growing your own stuff, gardening , ayurveda and so on. Check out her various blogs:

healthfood desivideshi
homealone
ayurveda on my plate
banaras ka khana

She posted this visual , and I just remembered another book I have read, by the same author she appears to be reading......Many Lives, Many Masters, by Brian Weiss.

It occurred to me that the tea too, could claim several lives and several masters ....:-)

(photo by Sangeeta Khanna)
Many lives,many masters,

Verdant green
on the bushes
on the hill,
a trip
between fingers
of a lovely
basket maiden.

A bit
of a dry life later,
wrapped
in a sophisticated
soft habit,
resting in a box.

Now a chequered life,
on a table
by a breakfast nook,
and
she loses herself
in a glass
of great warmth,
dissolving
all her doubts.

She has finally
met her friend,
Sangeeta,
and between them,
it's
a great cuppa......

Letting go....

Another great photo from blogger friend Roshan K, taken while hiking in the Idukki region in Kerala, India's southernmost green state.

The state is known as God's Own Country. I guess the owner of those bare branches was thinking along similar lines......

(photo by Roshan K)
Bare evening
of her life,
shorne of all pretense
she,
stuck between
an obstinate rock
and
a tough branch
of a power tree,
stretches
her bare arms,
watching her contemporaries
rushing effervescently
with the flow,
.

Earlier
she would have said
"Take care, beware".

Now she wishes,
a little part
of her
could crack
and break away,
and float
way down
into the
joyous tumult.

A lifetime
of perceived
dutiful uprightness,
at the fag end,
having some missed out childlike fun....

Cloud-thinking....

A new blogger friend, Roshan K, from Kerala , posted this photo on Google+. You can see some of his work here.

The skies are a peaceful blue. But sometimes misleading.


In our own
people sky,
blue and together,
pointed targeting
of masses
happens.

Those that hit,
generate
clouds
of their own,
behind them
as they escape.
thinking
they can blend in
and hide amidst the
rest.

But their clouds,
violent,
avaricious,
fuel rich
and polluting
will never find
a place
in the social
peaceful cloud network
C+ in the sky,
as a friend, acquaintance
or family.

They will be blocked......

स्वतंत्र भारताचे एक स्वप्न. खड्डामुक्त रस्ते....The Dream of Independent India : Smooth roads .

Year after potholed year, we in Mumbai, particularly in the suburbs, tolerate endless roadworks, traffic blocks, pollution, and delays, like a movie extra standing in line for makeup, while the heroine, South Mumbai (where the government and its minions reside ), gets immediate preferential closeup treatment for minor cracks and pimples on the roads.

Year after year, someone gets paid for shoddy repairs, and year after year some folks continue to come up in life, to unimaginable levels.

Makes you think. It isn't of any use, except maybe for writing verse ? The poem was triggered in Marathi by a comment on FB made by a blogger friend Harekrishnaji, whose new car is probably in tears by now.....the English thinking follows !


(photo courtesy Google, inset : the Moon's surface !)

आयुष्य जरा सुरळीत झालं
आणि
माणूस हुरळून जाउन
त्याचे मन
फार उंच उंच झेपाउ लागलं,
कि
त्याला खाडकन जमीनेवर आणण्याचे
काम
आपले सरकार करते ......
रस्त्यावरचे खड्डे ,
विश्वासाबद्दल खड्डे ,
आश्वासनांचे खड्डे ,
करदात्यांच्या खिशाला खड्डे ,
आणि एकीकडे
कुणा एकाचा खिसा
गरम होउन,
गच्च भरून,
ओतू जात असतो,
आणि त्याच्या निर्लज्जपणाचा
खड्डा वाढतच जातो,
वाढतच जातो......



Life ,
smooth and comfortable,
and the
Mumbaikar
dares to dream
higher,taller,
and skyward....

But the hole-obsessed
powers-that-be
with great relish,
drag him back
to earth
with a thump....

Holes in the roads,
Holes in the trust,
Holes in the promises,
Holes
in the taxpayers' pockets,

While
somewhere else
some one's
pockets
hot in anticipation,
and remorseless,
fill up and overflow.

And
the pothole of shame
in some one's
avaricious life
continues to
grow
out of control....

Bozoical Ruminations.....

They think and know a lot more than we realize. Sometimes, I think they even have a lot more sense.

My blogger friend Magiceye, dedicates a separate blog to his faithful friend, Bozo, and his activities and moods.

It intrigues me as to what may be going through Bozo's mind, as he relaxes, possible after an observant monsoon stroll through the neighborhood.....


(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)

I am back
from a stroll
with Deepak;
stepping into puddles,
shrugging off
the water behind my ears,
pretending
I haven't seen
the designer neck piece
flaunted
by Lassie.



Something uneasy.
Times are bad,
Moti told me so;
He is busy
going on sniffing projects
with the cops;
If I
could only speak
the language of the cops,
I'd tell
them
what Moti said.

They say
there has been another blast.
Its better to
be quiet
and
lie low......

Whats the
world
coming to;

I worry.....

Going around in circles.....

My blogger friend, and enthusiastic photographer Shail Mohan has an amazing set of photographs, that capture her environment . She lives in a state, Kerala, which is the first to welcome the south-west monsoons in India.

Lush green gardens, typical plantain trees gracing a traditional garden, and the play of a raindrop, mostly on growing greens, but also sometimes on something man-made, as below.

(So typical in old cottage type or 1-2 floor houses, a water adjusting wheel valve (I just made up that name, don't know its engineering name :-) ), most kids in Mumbai will never have seen it, as it begins to leak, when the washer wears away.....)


(photograph by Shail Mohan)
Sometimes,
seasonal showers,
a cool ecstasy,
making them travel
drunk and sinusoidal
on the edge,
before
unwillingly
elongated,
dripping down.

And sometimes,
on a day
of hot desolation,
and
going around
worn out mental barriers,
your tears ,
leaking through,
across the ups and downs
of life....

Behold, a Ray !

This is how the sky looked recently , above Bandra, a prominent western Mumbai suburb.

As clicked by my blogger friend , Magiceye, and posted as part of his Skywatch Friday series.

Heavenly bodies, often have earthly reactions, particularly, when tolerance is stretched beyond limits, faced with terrorist attacks, and senseless governance.

At least that's what it looks like to someone, who despairs for those supposed to govern us, and awaits some divine intervention.....

(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)

He watches
disillusioned
as
they
mobilize to destroy,
cheat to acquire more,
mislead to frighten,
power themselves
to impoverish others,
deliberately act blind
while seeing
behind every act
and go about
burning
lives and futures,
of those
who make the country for them.

Black clouds
of a rampant monsoon
thunder in,
like hopes
squeezed in the sky
till the last drop is gone.

He doesnt give up.
Moves,
in burning anger,
quietly
behind the
blackness.
There has to be
a solution
somewhere.
A different heat
a different light,
and he bursts through
a weak patch,
a ray of hope
for a
city,
looking for an answer.....

Black Wednesday

My blogger friend, Magiceye , with a touching tribute to those who lost their loved ones, in the terrorist blasts, on Black Wednesday, July 13, 2011.

And they still carry on, in grief, anger,helplessness, and sometimes, just a little bit of hope, thinking that , maybe, one day the sun will shine on the simple, ordinary folks of this city again.

(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)
The Mumbai sun
often lingered
longingly at dusk,
orange red
on the horizon,
with a look of love
at a favourite city...

Something else
has now colored
the waters
reddish,
quiet and lifeless,
ripples blindly carrying on
dashing against
bare rods.

The people carry on
the business of living,
blindly moving.

While
on so many lives,
the sun has set
without warning.

The nightmare begins.

The pao, the bread and her. पाव, ब्रेड अणि ती..

The photographer, a blogger friend , went berserk, photographing posh and home type breads on a visit to Goa (a popular state on India's west coast).

I just wondered what the breads might be thinking....(in Marathi and in English....actually I just realized that most of the breads would have spoken Konkani :-)


(both photos by Harekrishanji)

काही पंचतारांकित पाव ,
सरळ गोव्याला गेले,
गुबगुबीत ओव्हन मधून
चीज कडे हसत बघत ,
काही गोड साखरेचे फेटे घालून,
तर काही भारदस्तपणाचा
आव आणत ,
तिरक्या फळीवर रेलून
आपला वजन सांभाळत,
मधूनच एखाद्या
फोरेन वाल्या फळाचा आधार घेत
आल्या गेल्या कडे आशेने बघू लागले ....
आणि
चूप चाप , एकीकडे
कुणा एका अमूलच्या आनंदात
भिजून निघालेला,
गोव्याचाच ,
पण एक घरगुती साधा पाव
एका फटाकड्या बटाट्याच्या भाजी बरोबर
मसालेदार गप्पा करत होता



Five star
posh loaves
fresh and golden
from a six star oven,
some,
smirking at the cheese,
some,
with lashings of sugar,
and some,
in fashionable repose
on tilted shelves,
weighted down in importance
as they
dream
about
their own
personal
five star
fruit accompaniment....

Meanwhile,
away to one side,
a local pao (bread)
totally
gone to pieces,
under the slather of
a buttery Amul,
cracks up,
as it
continues
its spicy tete-a-tete,
with the
sizzling potato curry.....

A return to where you came from.....

My blogger friend Harekrishnaji, is a very versatile photographer; in a single day, he posts photographs, of deep mountain gorges, green valleys, dream houses, buffet displays of breads in fancy eating places, and just in case you think he has finished, he suddenly comes up with this dedication to a dragonfly at its moment of Death, in a creek, somewhere in his travels.

The picture says a lot. I learnt a lot about the life of a dragonfly .

(photo by Harekrishnaji)
A dream life
in the water,
as a dragonfly nymph,
hatched
from ova
flush with the stem
of a blooming aquatic plant.

A teenage
spent
misleading the fish
in style,
sometimes,
even fighting
amongst themselves,
winner takes all,
carnivorously
consuming assorted
unaware
timid folks
in the water.

One day,
the rock edge beckons,
and as she clutches
on to its face,
her wings unfold
in the glinting sun,
powered to fly.

A wild buzzing life,
tangling troubles,
swooping
around gardens,
a graceful
span of the wings,
a sniff here,
a look there,
a tentative touch.
a time to mate
and
a time to procreate.

A short sunny life,
and
the cold monsoon air
and stiff wings,
herald
a time to go.

Water of your birth;
you return
to the water of Death.

Cleaning for Worship.....

Sometimes I feel the skies perform their stuff only for my friend Sylvia from Tacoma, Wa.

Have a look at some amazing skies in this post on her blog.

This sense of dull gold, cleaned silver and ancient pewter that I get from this photograph has the head in a spin of ideas....

Maybe the setting Sun, having traversed many lands, understands....


(photograph by Sylvia Kirkwood)
He moves across the world,
observing
the rituals,prayers
and
modes of worship
across the lands.

Fragrant flowers
of the east,
incense sticks,
ghee lamps,
fruits,
betel nut leaves,
and a
daily cleaning
of pooja (worship) vessels
crafted in
old silver
and pewter
of the ages.

She stands
in her balcony,
in Tacoma
rejoicing
in the beauty,
and color
and fragrance of the roses,
the carpets of green,
and
rippling water below,
and watches
in amazement,
as the
rain
brushes against
the dark clouds
in the sky
rubs and rubs
them clean,
amidst
thundering prayers,
and
lightning sky lamps.

The thanksgiving
worship ritual can now start;
the sky vessel
has been cleaned and polished,
till the gold,
silver
and pewter
shines through
in prayer....

One Monsoon, Two Teas....

My blogger friend, and expert source on places of interest around Pune, Harekrishnaji, has been enjoying driving around the countryside west of Pune, and stopping at unusual places, to photograph nature, and sometimes, some other interesting folks, who strangely, end up enjoying the same things he does ! In a different way.

That makes you think .... and write verse....!

First thought of in Marathi, and then composed in English...


(photo by Harekrishnaji)
थंडगार वातानुकुलीत गाडीत
गियर बदलत
पावसाळी खड्यातून
बाहेर पडून
आसम्न्तातले धुके बघत
हिरवाइत बुडून
मैलोमइल हिंडून
ते चहाच्या शोधात असतात .....
आणि
रोजच
वातानुकुलीत डोंगरातून
लाल बस ने शाळेतून घरी येउन
एका पक्क्या घरामागे
म्हशीची धार काढून
टप टप गळणार्या झोपडीत
चुलीशी बसलेल्या आपल्या आईला
नेउन देउन
सगळ्यान बरोबर चहाची वाट बघणारी
हि दर्वाज्यातील चंद्रमुखी .....



Cool 21 degrees
draughts
wafting through the innards,
he changes gears
to navigate
through the
monsoon
potholed
mountain roads........

Dumbstruck
in a mist,
and overcome by the green,
they search for a place to stop
for a cuppa....

And
somewhere,
everyday,
she travels
back
from her distant school
in a red state bus,
breathing deeply
of the airconditioned mountains;

As she
now rushes,
to the side of her cottage
behind the main house
to milk the buffalo,
and deliver it
to her mother.

In the mud stove
of
a leaking kitchen,
a tea is happening
for the family,
and she
Chandramukhi,****
waits,
her turn,
smiling
at the door.

****Chandramukhi : a pretty woman with a face like that of the moon....

Six truths and one poem

I guess photobloggers are Fun people ! A photoblogger who has featured often on this blog recently posted this :

Six Truths in Life

1 . You cannot stick your tongue out and look up at the ceiling at the same time, a physical impossibility due to the tendons within your neck .

2 . All idiots, after reading #1 will try it .

3 . And discover #1 is a lie .

4 . You are smiling now because you are an idiot .

5 . You soon will forward this to another idiot .

6 . There is still a stupid smile on your face .

I actually tried step no 1. Before reading step no 2.

Besides hearing the tendons in my neck laugh hysterically, I also noticed some leaking spots on our ceiling. And a poem happened. ....:-))



The terrace leaks,
helpless
in the rains,
and the rods
in the slab
crack up,
shaking
the concrete,
shedding tears of hilarity
into the room,
watching
an old lady,
sticking her tongue out
and looking up
at them....

And the muscles
of the neck,
twist themselves
in disgust,
as she smiles to herself
and says,
"Idiot or not,
one more laugh
for the day.... !"

Borders of the mind

My blogger friend Aativas on a visit to Tripura, reflects on the concept of "borders" , which seems to be a prominent topic of discussion , and interest there. Read the wonderful post she has written, here .

"....it is an artificial line that divides people, land, water, sky, trees... emotions and lives. This side of the fence, you are an Indian and that side of fence; you are traitor if you are in Indian. This side, this is the law, other side is the other law though the crops, the food, the landscape is the same. Standing there I wished that all these borders vanish!!...."

One tends to reflect on the inherent existence of borders in our lives, socially, politically, by gender, behaviour and so on.

And then one realises that our right brains and left brains, ( that explain predominance of attitudes of holistic analysis, artistic tendencies, intuition, analytic behaviour, rule obsession, dry reasoning etc over each other), are actually, physically, separated in our brains, by a ridge called Corpus Callosum.

My question and doubt follows .





There are
borders
of countries,
states,
religions,
gender,
economics,
language,
and
believe it or nor ,
even of the mind.



Children
dont have them.

But pathology
demands,
that
their right brain
that urges them to
pick up a lost puppy in the dirt
listens to the
reasons of the
dry analytical left
and bids them
go leave it back
and purify their fingers.

Why must we have a
corpus callosum,
a border
between
the left and right brain,
when
both
could have lived
in
harmony together?

And so,
are borders
installed
in our DNA ?

Why we must take flight with color....

Black and white,
like our
unavoidable politicians,
behave in extremes,
drawing
bad folks
into their
individual corners....

Black,
the original empty vessel,
King of Nothing,
but greatly loved
by those with money to hide.
Hated as a complexion
by mothers of glaucomic bridegrooms,
though
fair beauties with
jet black knee
length hair
and shining black doe eyes
are acceptable, thank you !

White,
the original nouveau riche,
pure and blotless,
colonizing all the colors,
and brow beating them
into a white synthesis;
emotionless,
spiritless,
but shows up the dirt
of puffed up minds.

So much better
to be like the common man;

Where green,
is a jealous sick person,
but also a newcomer,
young and learning a skill....

where blue,
is someone missing someone,
but also
a child honestly
straining to explain,
that he did not
break the crystal vase,
preoccupied as he was
watching clouds
drifting in a blue sky......

where red,
is the danger sign,
and teacher's marks,
but also the
glimmer of a bride's
trousseau,
and the color of
the eyes at bidaaee....

where pink,
is the slow blush,
and a fresh rose,
and a child
coloring your face
in a drawing exam.....

where yellow,
is below-the-belt journalism,
and old waste papers,
but also
the brightness
of a summer day,
lashings of haldi,
hint of a ripening mango,
and the
perfumed color
of a champa flower.....

As for orange,
it's the threat of flames,
but mostly
the fruit and the juice,
and the color in our flag,
and the marigolds
adorning
the puja of the Gods...

White folks, black minds,
Black folks with white minds,
permute and combine that,
in a frenzy of ambition and power,.

And then wonder
how much nicer
it would be
to be
an ordinary citizen,
pink in innocence,
green in approach,
yellow in brightness,
blue as the sky
that gives cover to all,
red ,
as in
life giving haemoglobin,
and orange,
as in the fruit
he shares with all.....

I've always thought
ordinary folks
were so much
nicer than the
B and W politicians.

So why not ?
Take flight with color !


Submitted as an entry for the "Take Flight with Color" contest sponsored by HP LaserJet and Indiblogger.

For tomorrow ......

A posting made by my blogger friend , Magiceye, under the specified subject "Busy", as part of a Photohunt series.

The banyan tree, the leaves, and the bird sincerely trying to work the string around brought back visuals of the Vat Savitri observances that many Hindu women subscribe to. And to commemorate the wonderful story of Savitri, they worship the tree, wrapping rounds of threads around the tough tree trunk, praying that they are granted the same husband for 7 more lives (reincarnations).

Just wondered what the bird could be thinking.

(photo of ladies by Google)
(photo by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)
Safe
high up
in the Banyan tree,
she watched
as
those colorful bipeds,
swathed in 9 yards
of silk,
jewellery ,
lighted lamps,
and
an attitude of worship
wrapped a thread
round and round
the tree trunk
to ensure
the same husband
for
seven incarnations more.

Now she does
her own
ritual;
wrapping and fixing
the white thread
round and round
her nest
amidst the
tough worldly branches;
trying to ensure
that
not seven lives hence,
but
at least tomorrow
her family has a
safe and wonderful life.