Leased Spaces

From a leased space to another it moves,

The soul perches, pining for mountainous hues,

Dwells in castles and bleeding towns,

Tasting tears and mending frowns.

Apropos it searches not for dunes,

Its eye hurts and braves misfortunes,

It searches for a distant relief,

Knowing that it’s but a mirage and sore belief

Though searching is never a refuge,

The lusty creed towers too huge,

Showing from behind the veil,

But, it always seeks for the grail.

Alas! The dainty soul,

Wouldn’t belong to any pole,

No patch or sky, no south, no mighty north;

Poor soul, shall ever be seeking forth.

Making me see my own light

Extracts from Kahlil Gibran’s romantic letters to a woman, taken from the book Love Letters from a Prophet, Ediouro

10/03/1912

Mary, my dear Mary, how could you think that you are giving me more pain than joy?  Nobody knows for sure what the line is between pain and pleasure; I often think it’s impossible to separate them. You give me so much joy that it hurts, and you cause me so much pain that I get to smile.

08/07/1914

I always thought that when someone understands us, they end us enslaving us because we expect everything to be understood. However, understanding has brought me peace and freedom more profound than I’ve ever experienced. In the two hours of your visit, you found a black spot in my heart, and touched him, and it disappeared forever- making me see my own light.

18/04/1915

The days we were together were magnificent. When we talk about the past, we become more real in the present and future. For many years, I dreaded to look at what I had lived, and suffered in silence. Today I understood that silence makes us suffer more deeply. But you make me talk, and I find dusty things hiding in my soul, which I then pull away.  

17/07/1915

We are both trying to touch the limits of our existence. The great poets of the past always worked themselves to Life.

They were looking for something specific, or trying to uncover secrets; they simply let their souls be overwhelmed by emotions. People are always seeking security, and sometimes do, but safety is an end to itself, and life has no end.

Poets are not those who write poetry, but are those whose hearts are filled with the holy spirit of love.  

10/05/1916

Dear Mary: I am sending a parable that I finished. I have written little, and only in Arabic. But I would like to hear your corrections and suggestions on this passage:

In the shadow of a temple, my friend pointed out a blind man.

My friend said, “This man is a wise man.”

I approached, and asked, “How long have you been blind?”

“Since I was born.”

“I am an astronomer,” I said.

“Me too,” the man answered. And placing his hand on his chest, said, “I spend my life watching the many suns and stars that move in me.”

My only effort here was to type Gibran's words; words that are more than just words. 

Flight not false

With a reasoned stab
A self confessed sinister
Took flight below the sea
To change the unknown

Lesser did he know
That the wind was sharp
Right with a knife
To tear his heart

The seagull had a throat
A throat that pained
Not the salty wind
But the tears unkind

The matter didn't reflect
The thought grew too
But change never came
And wind became lead.

Hours passed and minutes remained
Though later 'twas named
The blow was not a blow
But a love in disguise

Liaison

A cynical gaze into a cotton heart,

Questions asked grieving too hard.

Maketh me low with alphabetical blow;

Alas! THE emotion is sung, though so slow.

Greater the agony, higher my strife,

Higher the bitters, sharper my knife.

Come what may, life has revealed;

You are that which you concealed.

 

हज़ारों ख़्वाहिशें ऐसी कि हर ख़्वाइश पे दम निकले

हज़ारों ख्वाहिशें ऐसी की हर ख्वाहिश पे दम निकले,

बहुत निकले मेरे अरमान लेकिन फिर भी कम निकले ।

निकलना खुल्द से आदम का सुनते आये हैं लेकिन,

बहुत बेआबरू हो कर तेरे कूचे से हम निकले ।

मुहब्बत में नही है फर्क जीने और मरने का,

उसी को देख कर जीते हैं जिस काफिर पे दम निकले ।

ख़ुदा के वास्ते पर्दा ना काबे से उठा ज़ालिम,

कहीं ऐसा ना हो यां भी वही काफिर सनम निकले ।

क़हाँ मैखाने का दरवाज़ा 'ग़ालिब' और कहाँ वाइज़,

पर इतना जानते हैं कल वो जाता था के हम निकले।


- ग़ालिब

I am my origin

A radical shot
Out of a wild seed
In a scant wilderness
The dicot it was
Nurtured not
Just grew without concern.

It then became a shrub
Without knowing its fate
Why did it grow?
An immortal green.

The air had life
It nursed the green hard
Taught it pride.
The green became a tree.

The immortal it was
Blessed by cruel fate
Overshadowed all smiles
The change never came.

The tree overgrew
Into a wild beast
Engulfed every bit
Oh! No trace of hope.

The beast brought tears
Was unequal to none
Neither acknowledged blood
Nor anybody's love.

Until that one day
When eternity knocked
Asked the wild beast
Where did it come from?

The beast all set
The darling crook he was
Answered in no regret
"My genesis is unreasoned love".

RainS, RhymeS and RuinS

And there I walked again, past my cozy shell

Inside the world in Rain, turning the haze off

The drops too small, moistening my mane
Not just that, too low did they fall
The earth puffed up, looking so rough

Promised me a walk, on that familiar lane.
 
I walked past the known, right with myself,
Wondering too hard, are reasons insane?
The drop grew heavier, the Earth so full
Almost snatched the veil, that draped the bodice self

It slapped my face hard, refusing to be lame
The moment proclaimed, a thought inside the skull.

The matter never reflected, not at least too often

The drops in that hour, proved to be a solace

The life within the water, water within the shrine

Drops bearing clarity, preaching me a chapter.
As I stared too hard, deeper into the space

The drop seemed clear, like the thoughts divine.

The lines that were out, dispersed into colours
Seven wasn't the count, not that they were dull

The questions that remained, indifferent & profane

Not to me of course, but to the fellow strollers

Rarity overpowered and it wasn't a lull.
How did this ever happen? And it wasn't inane.

Theories are words, words are sham

When they sprout without a reason
I knew it wasn't me, it was the holy Other

Anyone but me, and every other glance
Wondering if they mean, anything but treason
If not the person, is it there to bother?

Facade

"Why not?", she asked.

"I don't have an inspiration. I had you before, but not anymore", he replied.

"So what different did I do then?"

(She never got her answer)

She told herself: When they were together she didn't do anything that could have added any value to him or his life in anyway. She thought so. She's still the same from what she thinks. And now that they are no more together, she doesn't see a difference in her actions as compared to the previous times. So what made the difference? What changed?

Nothing from her side, she thought. It was him who made the difference. It was his sole perception and image of her that changed and made the difference. His perception was different then, it voluntarily changed later. He believed her to be someone then, but not anymore. Though she's still the same from her side, to him, to herself.

He thought she was his muse, but that's past now. It's all about him and she's no where. Not that she's complaining, but only wondering that was she ever significant to him as a person or was she just an image that had a purpose? An image unaware of her own significance, if any. An image that was created by a mind to be discarded one day.

Just an image, a reflection.

The answer doesn't matter now.

The Moon

And, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east,
A white and shapeless mass.

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

--
P. B. Shelley

'N' things going through my gray matter...

There's no reason why on this galaxy am I writing this except for one that I have lost my pen.

I have had a fairly heavy day and I am sleepy and I don't care if this blog should be read.

Never mind.. (Actually, I have been using this expression too much of late..don't know why)

So essentially, here goes a list of thoughts/feelings I'm thinking/feeling right now. This list is dedicated to all those who are knowingly or unknowingly THE reason.

1. I feel sleepy.
2. I think I'll never fall in love.
3. I feel people are not obliged to do anything for me.
4. I don't want to regret my actions, sadly I do.
5. I want to learn how not to expect from people I care about.
6. I feel sleepy and I am deliberately typing it twice.
7. I despise flattery.
8. I believe, those who posses authority should also posses humility.
9. There's no option to hard work.
10. Delay is undesirable.
11. I can spend my entire life holding onto hope and faith. I thank a sweetheart for that.

I'm going mental...

Peace

(PS: Play The Diary of Jane for effect..!!)

God is faith and NOT reason

An atheist professor of philosophy speaks to his class on the problem science has with God, The Almighty. He asks one of his new students to stand and.....

Prof: So you believe in God?
Student: Absolutely, sir.
Prof: Is God good?
Student: Sure. Prof: Is God all-powerful?
Student: Yes.
Prof: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to God to heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God didn't. How is this God good then? Hmm?

(Student is silent.)

Prof: You can't answer, can you? Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?
Student: Yes.
Prof: Is Satan good?
Student: No.
Prof: Where does Satan come from?
Student: From...God.. .
Prof: That's right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?
Student: Yes.
Prof: Evil is everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything. Correct?
Student: Yes.
Prof: So who created evil?

(Student does not answer.)

Prof: Is there sickness? Immorality ? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don't they?
Student: Yes, sir.
Prof: So, who created them?

(Student has no answer.)

Prof: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Tell me, son...Have you ever seen God?
Student: No, sir.
Prof: Tell us if you have ever heard your God?
Student: No, sir.
Prof: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelt your God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God for that matter?
Student: No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.
Prof: Yet you still believe in Him?
Student: Yes.
Prof: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your GOD doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?
Student: Nothing. I only have my faith.
Prof: Yes. Faith. And that is the problem science has.
Student: Professor, is there such a thing as heat?
Prof: Yes.
Student: And is there such a thing as cold?
Prof: Yes...
Student: No sir. There isn't. (The lecture theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events.)
Student: Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don't have anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold . Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it .

(There is pin-drop silence in the lecture theatre.)

Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?
Prof: Yes. What is night if there isn't darkness?
Student: You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light.....But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? In reality, darkness isn't. If it were you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?
Prof: So what is the point you are making, young man?
Student: Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed.
Prof: Flawed? Can you explain how?
Student: Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue there is life and then there is death, a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life: just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor.Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?
Prof: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do.
Student: Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?
(The Professor shakes his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument is going.)
Student: Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a preacher?

(The class is in uproar.)

Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor's brain? (The class breaks out into laughter.)
Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor's brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain,sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir?
(The room is silent. The professor stares at the student, his face unfathomable. )
Prof: I guess you'll have to take them on faith, son.
Student: That is it sir... The link between man & God is FAITH. That is all that keeps things moving & alive...

The student was none other than APJ Abdul Kalam, the former president of India.

A silent word in a silent world…

This had to come, but not so early,
Time was all it needed may be.
Believe you me, I took my time,
But I’m sorry if it came so fast.

To protect you from the hurt of affection;
To protect you from the clouds of illusion,
I say,
I don’t.
I’m sorry.
I’m not hurt.
But the fear prevails,
What if and but.

Would things change?
Or remain the same?
Would there be a void?
An unsaid divide?
Or should I be hopeful, as you say?
And witness the change at the bay?

Hope never dies.
Love prevails.
Muse remains.
Respect shines.

What more?
With a companion in my eye,
I said it all
In silence, of course.