Dec 31, 2009

Sand Wind and Stars~





Dear Dadaji,

When I look at your picture I am amazed at how many parts of you have left around us like the sand wind and the stars. Your hands that live in Papa’s hands, Your gentle presence that Papa exudes just the way you did, sitting hours in the winter sun.
I don’t remember your passing away bringing up any sadness in my 5 year old heart.  The stench of urine that coming from your room cut me off from you. I was so scared to enter then. You were growing old and I was growing young. I was getting the power to make choices to be with people or to avoid them. I would avoid you for days and days when you would call for me. I felt I could altogether avoid the unnecessary involvement with death disease and decay (Although not so consciously!) Sometimes when I could muster enough good sense to enter your room which had Papa’s tools hanging on the walls you would lovingly tell me broken stories. Some stories that I already remembered, some I recognized to be warped some completely drones of your sound breaking.
On clear days you would come out of your room and take a walk. And I remember your lively long stepped walk. You were such a tall man. It was difficult to think that someone so well formed could be falling apart in body.
Its strange I never saw you intensly alive. You were always my old dadaji to me. The most electric I have seen you were in your stories of travels across the world. Your days of fighting the world war in Hungary where you got lice in your hair. Your hundred stories of Raja Ram Chandra of Ayodhya who had a dutiful wife. The stories of your illiterate brothers and  your bringing them to civilization and farming in the terai of Nanital. I still read your books kept in the dingy store room in Bareilly now. Although I find it hard to imagine that you read them too. I still remember your shiny white strong teeth. They lasted you more than mine will! I remember that Tall lanky figure with a flowing white beard and didn’t quite know what kind of a man you would have made for woman around you. But I know the man you were in your bones and blood. I carry you inside me like the sand wind and stars.

Love

Seetal

Dec 9, 2009

Be my Calender Boy Mr Kingfisher!






Dear Mr Mallya,

As I stare uncomfortably at the Kingfisher calenders protruding out of nooks of the worktables of offices,I feel a tweaking tinge of irritation threatening to blow up into anger! Scantily dressed Barbie dollish women twining around a creepers, bathing in scanty waterfalls. All women beautifully shortchanged in this whole process(the ones being parading in the calenders,ones who start aspiring to be in these calenders, the ones who will never make it to these calenders(not to be forgetting the ones who write pieces such as on 'the calender')

This heady sense of exclusivity that money can offer, The cameras transforming
penis's into lens! the models exclusive pedigree like some sort of hybrid horses/or bitches. Your Big Idea of harnessing these natural resources in a calender!( boobs bellies and and legs of of pretty young nubile women) Everybody loves these calenders I am told so whats my problem with this kind of exclusive high art? My problem Mr Kingfisher is that I think It is a bad show! And i hate it when it gets plastered around the walls! Why should I be forced to indulge your fantasies(or of those who aspire to be like you?!)?

I am not impressed at all! Why should your constipated art take the place of honour in my terrain? Why should my opinion be held any lesser value than yours? I am the customer king Mr King of goodtimes! I buy your beer, fly your airline,and watch your channel!

My calenders ought to have a certain standard! I don't want these neo'rich babes crowding my breathing space. I like Royalty! I think you would make a very interesting calender boy! That royal ruddy shining on your skin(like burnishing gold! literally!!!) I even think if you were to bare your belly on an exotic location my fantasies may spiral up till the sky! Your smile is so sexy too. I want to see you smile at me on my table top. And those layers of flab on your shoulders never matter to anyone, they are soo big with power. Let me see you stretch for me till the two ends of the horizon just like your property. I soo like you rich stinking money body odor man! Why cant you dance naked on the beach for me(and for those other women who pay for your beer in their hard earned cash!) Lets carve out fair terms of service now! Give me a fair worth for what I pay! Dance naked for me old man I(we) will bathe you in money too, and I dont mind real life blemishes and old age!


Looking forward to some good times

(Not on your calender) woman

Dec 7, 2009

Staring at you



Dear Buddha,

This hunger doesn’t go! I go around the world in the nakedness of my hunger only revealing it to the world in the greed of being fed! I try forgetting it and moving on with ‘better things of life’ But when its noon and and when its dawn, when I sleep and when I get up, early morning and late in the night the hunger remains. Its hard to get over it. My dream doesn’t break and my hunger doesn’t recede. I remain as small as ever!
I want to bite the long giants walking past me. They don’t seem to be bothered with things like hunger at all. I know they have their own journeys and I have my own crosses to bear and yet they seem responsible for all that I lose in life. I bite them and they kick at my stomach. Shame follows. It has happened so many times before and every time again and again my hunger resounds gurgles and gets me up on my feet from my stomach.I am up biting them again. Shame doesnt last longer than hunger!There is a strange omniscient persistence in this hunger. I have to bow to it against my efforts(I dont get to own a WILL) I am not being wily, I am only being hungry!
If only these giants could spare some thoughts for my life.I would have blessed them But they are arrogant rascals! They think they can kick and walk on! I don't have any defense against my hunger Buddha. I get back and bite for the cause of my hunger. Help me either cure my hunger or bite off the head of these Giants!

Unhappily
hungary ghost


Image Courtesy-http://www.greyfotos.blogspot.com/

Nov 24, 2009

My favorite hell



"In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry."

Hungry desolate ghosts walked on it night and day...they had little memories of the the period of abundance. They just remebered their hungers and kept weeping and crying for want of things. Their hungers and broken dreams were the only real things in their lives. No one could have blamed them for their small crying selves.

Then their were the tall giants who walked on that road.

Ben Okri- The Famished Road

Nov 16, 2009

Lost Homes


At 26 its hard to get over lost homes.I thought not counting would make me forget them better. But every lost home takes away parts of I am not young enough to loose with so much grace. I snout pout beg beseech and curse now! For every cut that is made on to me. And yet who can shout out all the pain of loosing a home?
I miss those white walls everyday. I wonder if they miss me too.Maybe I even hate them for not missing me! They were stark the first time I saw them. Stark white with rough patches. And yet they invited one with a purpose. I entered. I didn't like it for a long time. It was a rough place just not the kind where you could get comfortable easily. Hardly the kind where you would think of settling down for a long time. But as human beings are silly, they make pets out of foxes and even start talking to walls. So I did! I started talking to walls. And the walls started talking back to me. Sometimes.
Then I thought we were frequently talking. And then one day the walls went silent.
I think I started shouting at the walls then...I was told to leave. There were some new people who had entered and they had now perhaps a new language of talking to the walls. They told me to vacate..Because the walls obviously didnt talk to me anymore. I lost my home and I lost my language.
I still talk to those white walls. I am sure they hear me...I want to know why do they change their language so frequently? I thought homes were supposed to last longer than hearts. Isnt that why people build homes?

Sep 20, 2009

A season like this



Dim lights of the study lamp dying in the morning
Heavy eyes and REM dreams
Old songs not remembered well
Broken drones of restless naps
Prayers tired prayers
Hands with nothing to clasp but brown lines
Pained smiles breaking with memories
Finished the quotas of teas together
No promises, no apologies
Nothing to fight on
Two acute angles equally opposite
Broken lines running parallel
The trigonometry theorems that you were never meant to master
Empty blue skies with dry winds
The distance between two stars with jaded lights
An autumn like spring never existed!

Sep 14, 2009

eyes of light


She twinkles in the moonlite like today's...
Sleeping in an alien city now..wonder if she has had dinner or has she dozed off on the bed alongside the books.She likes tea before sleeping( yellow label with very little sugar).Nights with her are like a balm...There is absolutely nothing that cant be paired down to perspective(except the temperature of the air conditioner..she likes to sleep freezing)

Everything has a proper place.You like me wouldnt know it until you know better from her!The big decisions and the small decisions are all in her EDL. Just press the button and you would know Just the right thing for you!You're a big fish or a small fish or a medium sized fish..she has a recipe for every disaster that you have tasted in life so far!(Really i am telling you!)

Lying beside her on nights like these,I have felt gawky and bumbling..like one feels while holding a little baby in one's big scratched hands. My smoothness has all gone where her shines bright! My courage is waning away while she still protects her dreams in a small wicked space...I bump into walls and reach her to ask why didnt I see them?

On dark nights when the greys of the world leaave me blind with their details, I miss those eyes of light!

Sep 11, 2009

Bare essentials at 26

a single friend with a 24hour hotline
a reader who follows one's writing through and through
a purple chunni to cover oneself when there is too much grey in the world
some sweets in the fridge
a familiar author who has written on ones present tragedy in life
a promising upcoming project at work
old cherished memories that can be brought up without embarassing anyone
the promise of seeing a loved smiling face sometime in the future.
a few good pictures of one's own face

Sep 10, 2009

Salt~


If it doesnt taste sweet
If it doesnt change color
If it hasnt burnt to become something else
If it doesnt loose taste after all the warm concoctions and freezing indiffrences breathed into it
If it doesnt harm the insides after swallowing
If it tastes bitter compared to other things at your table
If it still sticks to your 'full hands'
If you cant take it back once you've given it
If nobody can buy it nothing can undo it
Its salt!
The little salt that turned into an earring from your hand into mine...

Sep 3, 2009

Sand in my bra



Sipping chai at lonely stations
Sleeping with lights on in sickly cold railway compartments
Passing by the lights of the cities which have been home once
Wearing salt earrings to not forget what I have taken from the world
Fulfilling the promises made to random gods
Smiling at strangers kinder than you
Squinting and looking hard
Passing thunder and lightening on the way
Remembering the life I had prayed for
Living the life I have been given
The sand in my bra singing as I run...

Aug 7, 2009

My Hands




These hands that will last a lifetime
Skin that has absorbed memories
Big not petite as would have made them pretty
Not a bit brittle these bones inside
Clenching
Approaching
Poking rudely
These silly hands..
With lying fraud lines
Stubborn
Slow
Senile
Strong
These hands that I live with

Jun 20, 2009

Listen Buddha!



Some questions that troubled my silence in Vipassna...

Q1-Will you listen to my troubled questions?
Say yes and mean yes! Dont run away from my questions...
Q2-Do you have the time to listen to me?
You should! What else’s so important anyways…
Q3- How will I live when you are not around?
Lets talk about it at least!
Q4- Do you know how much it hurts living in this world?
Listen to me too! you listen to all the other crap of this world..
Q5- What about my dreams?
Ill bite everybody on this earth to get to them..OK!?!
Q6- Will you tell me what’s important to you?
there are no ears more eager than mine anyways!

May 26, 2009

whatever!

Dear Whoever,

Dont know if it has happened to you...
Ever felt so hungary that you cant sleep at night?
Ever begged for grace and not found it?

@#$%^^
Nobody

Apr 24, 2009

Fish fall in love



Big fish, Small fish, silly fish, smart fish, fishes that slur, fishes that dont slur, fishes that swim upstream and have lots of work, fishes that swim with the flow and have no work, fishes that have big teeth, fishes that have teeth missing.. fishes who are scared of the ocean and fishes who are not scared of the ocean..
fishes that spin yarns and tie people to ocean, fishes that float and dont tie any yarns anywhere..fishes that are poked into or fishes that poke into others..fishes that see the blue sky, and fishes that are blind, fishes that see the bait and fishes who dont see the bait. shy fishes and shameless fishes...lying fishes and truthful fishes..all kinds of fish fall in love!

Apr 10, 2009

The answers come...



Kindred reply a friend wrote...

'Heck who can answer for the Buddha. He was really wise and he would have answered all the questions that have been asked. In fact the Tripitaka has 84,000 sutras by him and my guess is that he has answered all of them and several more questions there.

Now I put this forward humbly, as a person who has tried to understand his teachings and has tried to follow the way of life he recommended, I am just putting a few thoughts here.

It must be damn cool to be enlightened and all that no?


Oh yeah from what I have heard it's damn cool and more. Forget about the fantastic abilities of being able to fly and walk on water and many such freebies which the enlightened one cautioned were of little consequence. The fact that one can live freed from the long term or even short term effects of one's past actions, in the present moment in peace seems so attractive.

Tell me how does it feel to wear red all the time? Does the red of your robe not add to the restlessness of being alive?
Well the Buddha wore saffron robes.They signified the holy life, the life of renunciation. Not what they have come to represent in our unhappy times. And as for the restlessness of being alive, the Buddha simply discovered the restfulness of being alive.

AND if you are at rest all the time? Does it not make you feel dead?
Being at rest as far as I know it, is being intensely alive. Sitting still, have you ever closed your eyes and taken your attention to your breath passing through your nostrils, to your sensations throughout your body, to your thoughts - you feel anything but dead. Of course, enlightenment, Arahantship and Buddhahood is aid to be a stage beyond this sensory realm that we know. Of course I know nothing about it. But according to Buddha's teaching, death is not the opposite of life. Death is life continuing in a state beyond the perception of normal humans. A person dying moves to another form of being. This is described in startling detail in the TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD - this is more psychology than anything else. Of course psychology of an advanced order described by people - we may call them sages - who have done extraordinary inner research. Actually the Buddha was a scientist if you really consider it.

Do alive women not strum at your heartstrings with their energy? Are you menopausal?
Oh yes, alive women did strum at the Buddha's heartstrings but in a manner of great compassion. Kissa Gotami, Mahaprajapati his foster mother, his outstanding female disciples like Samadevi, Vishaka all entered states of full enlightenment. He opened the doors of religious life for women by initiating the community of Bhikkhunis - at a time in ancient India when women lived lives of subservience. He declared women capable of full enlightenment and did not consider them in any way inferior to men.

As far as having erotic inclinations, would such desires be possible for anyone who has seen the emptiness of the sensory world? One who has clearly seen the impermanence of all forms. And even we, if we are to observe the human form closely and penetratingly are we not confronted by the less than desirable contents of the body?

Do you never rue the fact that your dad was a small King and died one day?
King Suddhodhana was not a small king. Much of ancient history of that region remains unknown. Yes Buddha did know of Suddhodhana's passing. And Suddhodhana having fathered the Buddha had sown unmatched karmic seeds and his passing was as I have mentioned earlier, the continuation of his life in another form. For Buddha whose perception was developed enough to penetrate states of existence beyond our limited human realm, Suddhodhana was always alive to him. Ok ok I know I'm sounding fantastic now. But let me just say this, the Buddha clearly saw planes of existence beyond the plane in which we humans dwell. Like colours of the spectrum invisible to the human eye, but visible to dogs and animals let's say and those visible to instruments that we have created like x rays and so on. Similarly, the Buddha had trained his mind to penetrate different planes of existence. This sounds plausible to me and best of all, the Buddha actually gave clear instructions on how anyone could do the same. If we walk the path, we can have the answers. Not speculation, not arguments, not hearsay but direct experiental knowledge.

Did you father a son? Would you have been a happy man without that?
And yes he did father Rahula. And Suddhodhana told Rahula to ask his father for his inheritance and of course, Rahula's father the Buddha had renounced everything and could only give him the teaching - the path away from all suffering and sorrow. What could be a greater gift?

What does a hot jalebi taste like on a hot afternoon?
I love hot jalebis and during meditation retreats I am visited by thoughts of jalebis and ice cream and so many fantastic things. Do you know how monks eat? They have a single bowl and you pour in a spoon of Khichdi then when you are about to pour in a spoon of kheer, you stand confused, there's no separate compartment for the kheer so where does that go? The monk merely stands there holding out the bowl and you reluctantly and also maybe with some dismay or disgust, you pour the sweet kheer right on top of the steaming khichdi. After that the monk takes his bowl away and mindfully eats without disgust and without relish. This is how followers of the Buddha train to see the world, without compartments, without relish, without disgust. It's something worth experiencing. I am sharing my humble baby steps hoping to shed some light. Your questions are so beautiful and childlike. And yes the practise opens our senses, makes us kind and loving. The wet mud does smell very sweet as the sorrow of our fellow beings feels very bitter.

Its so wonderful that you think so much of Buddha. Who knows what happens after parinibbana? Can the Buddha die, into which realm has he gone, these questions can only be answered after you have yourself attained enlightenment. I don't know where Buddha is but I feel his kindness and his love. Thank you for this beautiful post. I hope my sharing has been useful.'

RG

Mar 21, 2009

A day like all other days...


There is a drone of Cicada in the air, its your ring tone.
Somebody is calling...nothing important you know.
End of March and the weather gives pleasant surprises on some days.
Like just yesterday you got up feeling happy for no reason really.
That slight headache from morning has become like a ticklish fog circling your eyes and forehead a pleasant sensation of wheeziness right now.
There is work but not too much.
Today is just the day to be lost in your thoughts.
You are remembering that old song that you hummed when you were younger.
You got up with it playing in your head today!
You caught yourself blushing thinking about that thing that happened yesterday! Strange!
That one thing that you wanted to do for a long time, seems more and more likely next weekend?.Rafting? Vipassna, Rishikesh, Holiday, Yes!
All those life and death matters have suddenly become dour.
The truth has settled on you like a shaft of evening light.
Filtered through lace curtains dancing on your arms and hands.
A world of memories and sensations open up.
That black and white picture of yours that youve kept in your wallet for a long time flashes suddenly.
The edges of it are wearing of but that sharp look in the eyes just doesnt fade.
It surprises you some times. That aliveness and magic where did it come from?
You remember that gust of air that hit you on the face through the train window when you were travelling without a ticket.
You loved travelling without ticket, although you havent done it in a long time.
Someday soon you promise yourself.
And you never keep your promises!
Its just another day...

Feb 22, 2009

Thousand songs my mother



I sing thousand songs everynight ma
When I sing I dont even remember that I came from you.
I sing false songs
I sing broken songs
I sing songs that shatter when the truth hits them
I sing songs for people who dont recognise me
Ma tell me, when you are lying down at night do you hear me singing far away?
Do you not like my songs anymore ma?

Feb 11, 2009

Dear Buddha,



Dear Buddha,

It must be damn cool to be enlightened and all that no?

Tell me how does it feel to wear red all the time? Does the red of your robe not add to the restlessness of being alive? AND if you are at rest all the time? Does it not make you feel dead?
Do alive women not strum at your heartstrings with their energy? Are you menopausal?
Do you never rue the fact that your dad was a small King and died one day?
Did you father a son? Would you have been a happy man without that?
What does a hot jalebi taste like on a hot afternoon?
Does the wet mud smell sweet to you?

I think a lot about you… What do you think of me?

Love
P

Jan 3, 2009

Of being




When you are an elephant, born an elephant,There is nothing that you can do about it!(except be an elephant!)
You can only fall in love with elephants
You cant run away from your elephant hunger.
You cant squeeze yourself to resemble a porcupine( although it has much better defence mechanisms!)
You cant lie to yourself like smaller animals.
You cant run away fast from danger and threat.
You cant help your memory(even if you remember useless details which have long ceased to be a reality or the truth)
Your truth is the elephants truth. It weights you down and you carry it gracefully.
Someday you will scramble the whole bloody world if doesnt stand up to your elephant reality( and youre more than capable of it, let no one live in any illusions!)
You are hungary on life..and you shall have your elephants share!