Sunday, 21 December 2014

Shouldn't we Hope

Hope has been regarded quite profoundly by radical thinkers as a bardic,lyrical & baseless human value build upon unreasonable pretensions.Existentialism advocates that through hope humans seek to leap and deny the arbitrariness of life.In a universe where nothingness trumps humanity & logic seems desirable,hope is abstractly contrived.Hope can never influence fate.Hope,through a blind act of human confidence seeks to explain everything.Thus as Albert Camus remarks "The absurd becomes God and the inability to understand becomes the existence that illuminates everything!!!"                                                                                                                                            I do not dismiss any of these charges.Hope in all its commonness has indeed been levied upon us by time or through ancestry.My wish is to rediscover hope as an understated gem of the human intellect.I do not wish to hold on to a blinding hope of vileness and ignorance.I do not wish for some great idea that will transcend my life and give it meaning or in other words simply betray it.I wish to hope for a coherent & indistinguishable recognition of the implacable grandeur of reality.My hope is that randomness is celebrated over importance & that the freedom that comes with unimportance is cherished.


Shouldn’t we hope?
And what else is there but hope
Though Hope doesn’t make us great or wise
It makes us weaker, inferior, susceptible to humanity
Hope transcends into faith
It is a deceitful agreement 
 making hopelessness bearable.
Yet, today I choose to hope.

I am opening more doors today
For I do not have strength enough to deny
I cannot choose reluctance over irrelevance
I cannot deny myself
I am too real, too abstract to escape
And thus I hope I can respect reality in it's entirety
I hope I can engage and confront
I hope I have Hope.

I choose to cry today
For in tears I see the hope of trust.
A hope that I can accept what is,
Universally inexistent, yet undeniably mine
This love and this gladness
This anxiety and this revulsion.
I hope my happiness betrays my disappointment
That my poetry never abandons my tears.

I choose to pray today
For in faith I see the hope of belief
A belief that I can be greater than my fears
That knowledge willn’t be accompanied by apathy
That worthiness willn’t be worshiped over tranquility
That prayer willn’t be born out of isolation, escapism
I hope faith becomes our spectacles and not our eyes
I hope life grants us all, Simplicity of hope

I have a choice today to make
A choice having no varying consequence
for my distinction lies not between hope and despair
but between beginnings,ends & exclamations
I choose my life over my existence
Existence is forgetfulness;it is stagnant,perforated,lacks virtue
Life is fluid,It is a miraculous engine of love
My hope is to become life,to become a mad poet's delight.

Sunday, 19 January 2014

IN A QUEST FOR INSPIRATION

It's amazing what a moment of emptiness will do to a suffocated mind.I use the word "suffocated" not to portray the bemusement of our everyday lives but rather to emphasize upon the sheer blindness of a polarized life.I have been accused in the past for being lousy in my implications & in-idiosyncratic in my writing & I thoroughly accept the latter.I do find it very rigorous to pen down personal experiences & try to overshadow it by personifying the "wonders of our being".Even as I scribble down this acceptance,I feel a very strong urge to replace the "I's" with "Humans".But I am determined to let the "I" take over at least for this solitary instance & so have put my vanity to rest in order to prevent any stiffened statements.
                                                                       My indifference to conclusions & convictions is justified by the fact that I am an inspiration driven machine.It is the very fulcrum that modulates,what is an unpredictable thought process.Being uninspired is a very painful & exhaustive experience for me.(though a confession that must be made here is that at one odd instance my state of in-inspiration turned out to be nothing more than just an upset stomach)
Perhaps My state of in-inspiration is only an elevated expression for motion sickness in the grand journey of awareness,Just a sudden shock of realization of that awareness being effaced away brutally by the deafening scarcity of answers & the humongous abundance of perplexities.But just as my self-attested predictions only allow me casual escapes from such meekness,even so my relatively idiotic personal worries raise equally absorbing questions.
As these idiotic worries deepen,I have to put the more cumbersome ones behind.So for once skipping the malleable questions like "whether our existence is a part of a great design or just some randomness in the whole cosmological romanticism"I will move towards the more general questions that a 17.5 year old is supposed to raise,obviously teenage crisis.
                                                                         As I bid farewell to my childhood,seeing it struggle to co-exist with a rational & more critical mindset,I feel more closer to being "Normal" than I ever thought I was.I have had flashes of emotions that I believed could only be garnered in homo-sapiens of the "inferior" quality.Emotions like loneliness,attachment & penance.However the one that has lingered for an atrocious period of time is that of Loss.With the curtains of my childhood drawing to a close,I feel to be losing out on my birthright of being unreasonable.It is an exceptionally intimidating & daunting prospect for me to always talk sense as it stakes the very vicissitudes of my consciousness.No wonder I always fancied Kahil Gibran's lines from "Sand & Foam" for myself "Half of what I say is meaningless but I say it so that the other half may reach you."I gather that my reluctance to be reasonable itself simplifies my state of in-inspiration.Perhaps it is not something as complex as searching for significant reasons to exist but something as elementary as being unsure about what to do next or just an ungraceful & despairing day of life.
                                                                         Even though I cannot shower flowers of in-obstinacy or purpose on my peculiar morality of being positive,simplistic,happy,unjustified & inspired(the in-inspired moments are strong but negligible)I can always fabricate realities for myself & these realities are strong enough to serve my buffet of intrinsic rebellions.Others may simply call it a lie but then who can claim to know the truth.
Amidst all this mayhem,my fundamental chaos however remains duly characterized.The transient ambiguity of existence always seizes to trouble me through it's mist of horrible familiarity & fatiguing irrelevance.Yet,when the cosmic fairy presents before me the lollipop of poetic ambiance as a re-compensation against the eccentricities of life & the insignificance of anything & everything then despite having the knowledge of the lollipop being just a substance of momentary ecstasy,I sin by grasping it with bond hands& dwell merely on an extensive exaggeration of some lunatic Poet's delight.   
        

Friday, 27 September 2013

GOOD | FOOD

There is only one form of true & pure love found on the earth today and that is the love for food.

                                                                                            ___George Bernand Shaw
Food:-{Noun}Any Substance that people or animals eat to stay alive.

                                                                                             ___The Oxford Dictionary
So what exactly is Food?
The distinction of food as food is only with reference to a set of circumstances.A physical intake of organic matter linked intrinsically to a purely practical purpose of impractical survivial or {for a more optimistic audience} a form of minor art meant for short-lived ecstasy.Moreover for an ethically reverent audience{fundamentally boring people}
                                                         "We are what we eat"
Good Food however is not just about dietary consumption of luxurious components.I liked Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat,Pray,Love".The Title itself was composed of three words ever so fulfilling in themselves.I quite admired the vision of life as a perpetual carnival of spirituality,love & of course food.
Food encrypts you in ways decisively radical & unimaginable.Good Food however is a lifestyle,defined by one's needs,habits & even compromises.
Good Food enthralls into us a sense of warmth,fullness & heartiness. Feelings amazingly scarce to find elsewhere.So when G.B. Shaw sensationalizes food as man's solitary love,we barge in with our stocks of claims of what is nothing but chicken served in fresh ice-cream.

It would be a gross understatement to say that food is important. In-fact even though none of our lives are singularly focused on food yet, each one of us bears an endurance of sorts in ourselves for some "soul food" from our past that shook us to our very core & the aura of which gave us a transparent understanding of our stance in our human roots.Momentarily,a piece of succumbed self & prolonged appreciation of not just the food but the amount of meditation that somehow churned subconsciously  in our head as we chewed the food.Perhaps it would have hit you a little more modestly than my description but Good Food does change your attitude towards your life & that is as plain a statement  as a Phulka Roti{without ghee}[No laccha paranthas were injured while writing this section]

Food apart from being delicious is also an important part of Human philosphy.It is a Humble patron of hope,a soft but reassuring incarnation of joy & a melting whisper of flame that ignites life into us.Food is a mirror.It reflects a comprehensive image of our ethics and perspective.In food we envision fulfillment or scarcity.

A bitter Truth however that continues to persist about food completely subsided  from our lives is that food,beyond it's contemporary euphoria still remains for the majority of mankind,a symbol of the deepest object of desire,Survival.

There are people in the world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.

                                                                                                                ___M.K. Gandhi.
                                 

    

Friday, 12 July 2013

WATER

                                                  

                             Let us Be Water For Once
                          For once leave aside your God
                                   & be one yourself
                                  A dimensioned God
                      For once be obscured and powerless
                             rend apart your intellect
                    Let importance lose reason for once
             & to this atonal rhyme lend your life for once
                and embark along in symphony with me
                            Let us Be Water For Once

                For once dismiss the ornate obeisance
               For once unpluck your pecuniary pride
                    & don't be good or bad for once
              and stand unlearned and mutable for once
                          Forget your civilization
                  Forget your voluntarism's for once
                   Stop singing your psalms for once
                     And for once recluse & stand,
    Stand thankless,uninspired,unmotivated,unjustified,
unopposed,unadorned and artless in the fierce copper Sun.

                For once flow naked towards the horizon
                        Deciphering new punctuations
                        Walk on three limbs for once
                        and start afresh from naught
                   Discard the written hallucinations
                       Decay the decorum for once
    Disprove the caricatures of Shakespeare's seven ages
       & breathe,breathe a breath without your dignity
For once if only we could peek beyond the borders of thought
& look ahead,ahead towards love,death,life & water for once.

                     If only man could be water for once
                           Sans regard and reputation
                        Sans humanity and domination
             end would no longer be forbidden & untold
             & He could have gravity as his pitiless God
               He could be still,merciless and fore-long 
           As a colurless matter he could rule and shine
               & could end his timeless envy with time.
           
          
                 


Monday, 20 May 2013

MY GRANDFATHER'S DEATH

 It is not often that I write about proper nouns 'cause my conscience prevents me from writing about personal loss or bereavement.Also I am an overly romantic believer of the fact that if you come from a difficult place and that is all you have to write about then you should stop writing.Further I could acknowledge a million reasons why i am not the right man to write about "Acharya Shri Nirmal Chandra",The gandhian reformer.There are people more qualified and dignified than me who can do that.
However the person I could write about was my Baba and how he completely changed my concept about God,unknowingly.
My Grandfather Died on the 15th of May 2013 at around 2 p.m. while holding my hand.I saw the most moral man of my life struggle to breathe in his last hours & yet I couldn't accumulate pity over his penance.Instead I was angry(furious to an extent)I wanted to order him to stand up at once.Standing there,wailing at the painful sight of  a man I loved,wrap into his end I wished to complain to whoever I could and that was when a realization struck me.

 That was when I wanted to believe that there exists a higher authority,A supreme being who could cure him irrespective of what his blood sugar indicated or whatever rubbish came out of the ultrasonography.I demanded the existence of A GOD.

Now when I recall that helplessness of mine I gather that just as my denial or refusal of the existence of a superior being will owe me nothing.Even so my denial of an unalterable law or a lawgiver(I assume both to be the same)will never liberate me from it's operation.And as the "first proper noun I ever wrote about" M.K. Gandhi said  "Humble And Mute acceptance of  a divine authority make's life's journey easier".It is his definition of God that rendered my Baba's intellect the most.
"In the midst of death life persists,In the midst of untruth truth persists,In the midst of darkness Light persists.Hence I gather that God is Light,Truth,Life.He is Love.He is the supreme Good.
Coming Back to my Grandfather.He was a man close to some of the most mightiest leaders of India.Right From Dr. Rajendra Prasad to Vinoba Bhave and a little brother to Jayprakash Narayan.Yet If there is one word in the English Dictionary That best describes Him it is "HUMBLE".Or at least that was how I knew him to be.He was My first teacher,the best too.He taught me everything right from calculating to drawing to writing.He used to teach me several mantras & I am ashamed that I have forgotten most of those.And I am sorry that I am unable to write much about him.It is only this little Homage That I am capable of.He was a man I knew in my family who had achieved supreme greatness socially and psychologically.Death came to him as a friend and he greeted it with incredible calmness.

I have heard of the philosphy of the 3 deaths.It says that every being on this planet dies thrice.The first death is when that man takes his last breath.The second is when he turns to dust and the third & the most painful is when his name is taken for the last time on earth.I am incredibly sure that that third death of my grandfather is still centuries away.
In my first post  on this blog I pondered quite superficially over death.Now I Know it as an important part of a great life.The most beautiful part of a great man's life is that it ends.My Grandfather was an artist in every true sense of the word and his death was his greatest masterpiece.
                                                 
                                                                                          A proud Grandson of a Worthy Grandfather


Saturday, 20 April 2013

STILL SO BEAUTIFUL

The following poem is the ending salutation of a story that i wrote called "The Prosody".The story describes a nature lover whose life is tormented by a natural disaster.He loses his house and his family.When at the fag end of his life he lies on his death-bed this poem is his last offering to the love of his life,Nature.
                   

         Why did I fall in love with her
         Why did I devote my life to her
        She Shattered my world poles apart
      I lay in my Grave with a broken heart
    My life has neither a beginning nor an end
          I can neither fight nor defend
            Yet I find this emptiness
             to be so very delightful
            She happens to be a monster
             But still she is so beautiful

Friday, 5 April 2013

          Poetry is quite parallel to life.Having no reasons,requiring infinite patience to make it look beautiful,spreading boundlessly,demanding compulsion from the creator & ending so ruthlessly so as to leave no trace of tenderness or sympathy for the beholder much alike a mock casual blink of the eye.

Choosing poetry over all other disciplines is a cowardly act from my side for I fear that Science would leave me short and longing for answers when the guilt of resisting an ensnared lifelong atrocity would doom my mind.Poetry on the contrary lures me into itself  'cause it offers me the luxury of creating self-satisfying answers no matter how impractical they seem.  
Talking of Impracticality I encounter it as another Human testimony.When people tag events,expressions & fellow people as practical or impractical I beg not to be included in such rituals.I suggest an easier definition,that of a renowned philosopher "If we were all to die then the most practical thing on earth would be to die the very moment we were born or not to be born at all"(I might seem like a depressed soul talking of death at such a young age but i cannot help bringing in the word into my writing for the very word impulsifies me to imagine the whole concept of survival as irrelevant & even funny).Inadequate expressions like these create a doubtful,vague & nebulous sketch of nothingness. 
I assume by now you would have adjudged the above written piece as directionless and confused but I didn't intend to create something wondrous.My intention was to define what poetry is to me and how it shapes up my life.I am proud to say this that I ain't a Human.I am a Poet.Disciplined in the fierce and unforgiving art of language and I ought to respect that.

Here's Something I wrote years ago.It is ridiculously childish but it is not something I am ashamed of.It still possesses my Poet's Vanity.Feel free to comment and please put forward your views in-hesitantly no matter whatever it is you wish to say.

from where did we ingress 
and what are we supposed to do
why do I love eating ice-cream
and why on earth is there a zoo in a zoo

what are the prickly borders meant to deliver
why does happiness cost hard and pain lasts forever
I see no joy in the human value to serve
& I am yet to find in my Physics textbook
The Force Called LOVE

It is a bit Daunting
to Imagine a Fitting End
I have heard them say How one
lies on 2 Yards past all pain
& takes nothing with him
not his house,neither his ego,nor his Porsche 911

I feel scared or I feel excited
I don't understand what I feel
This is when I realize the limits of language,
the limits of fortitude and skill
This is when I realize,I am Human
and so am limited to Live and let live

It is a vague atrocity
that we can question butn't challenge
we do move like puppets
in the hands of a drunk electrician

However fast I run
The horizon runs farther away
I sweat and Puke and mourn
Perhaps I should just sleep 
and sleep and sleep
all lifelong.

              But as I am thinking all this 
            I see some children out there 
  Dancing and playing in the rain and the rainbow's 
                bright and vivid lights,
  As for now I only have extraneous answers
          to these meaningless questions
       but dancing in the rain in this magical
                     beautiful world,
                   It all seems some
                MAD POET'S DELIGHT