Wednesday, March 16, 2011

End of chapter 1 - Part 1

One year before he died, he kept telling me to write something. Maybe he saw it coming. Maybe he regretted starting only just before he finished. Maybe he lived only so long to finish that book. Maybe he hoped that I would write more books than him.
He kept insisting. He kept prodding.
Until he stopped talking, stopped thinking, stopped recognizing, stopped knowing.

We have only one life to live. And that too is so short.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

A poem from the old days

I had been beating myself over for this poem, which I knew was a wonderful one often given by our english teachers in school for exams. Unfortunately, I had forgotten most of it. Anywho, I did manage to seek it out:

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

- James Leigh Hunt


Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Disaster movies

Had a great weekend this time.
Friends came over. Had good fun.
Went for a movie 'The Book of Eli' (The book of "Illei" as one called it. Claiming it was a Tamil movie :))
It was about a post-doomsday earth where the entire earth was one big desert full of nasty people. The only good people apparently were either slaves or lived on Alcatraz.(So much for a former prison :)!)
Anyway, have you noticed how too many of our nowadays have "end-of-the-world" or "post-end-of-the-world" as their theme? All have different versions but they all have the same belief.
Take some which I watched:

Book of Eli - War happened. Possibly Nuclear. And the entire world is a desert. They do not have decent drinking water. People loot each other for food. Everything runs on barter. Everyone seems to have endless supplies of cool sunglasses, though.

2012 - Yup! World's gonna end two years from now. We'll have another great flood. Only the USA will build ships (other nations are too busy ring, you see). That too in manufacturing haven China. However, unlike Noah's Arc, these ships will not carry the righteous but the rich and the powerful. (Ooh, God's plans will backfire in the first place) Us Indians will be dead. But, the ones to predict this flood in the first place will be Indians. Suck that!

Planet Of Apes : Probably one of the oldest of the lot. By the time it is 30th century, the planet will be ruled by Apes. Humans will be killed as per the Ape-bible. So much for lab experiments on monkeys.

Terminator (all parts) : Planet will be ruled by machines who will travel back in time to alter history in their favor. Beat your computer at Tic-Tac-Toe while u still can. :)

Wall-E: Yep! This innocent looking animated one says it too. The whole world is a dump. People live for 700 years on a space-ship that is built like the Titanic. Each person is obese. Hmmm... wonder where they get all that food from. No food will survive 700 years, c'mon.

Avatar: The earth is now a "poisoned" planet. So people are plundering other rich planets now.

What else? There are many, believe me. Look for them, and you'll find them.

The likeliest, however seems to be Wall-E, without the spaceship part, that is.

Thursday, December 03, 2009

Distant Viewer

Its amazing how life's changed.
All those calls back and forth,
All those chai-coffees, chats,
All that laughter,
All that cribbing,
All that cajoling
... all have vanished.
Now I'm just a silent spectator.
Someone who's sitting so far from the action, that I miss half of whats happening.
What do I do?
I ask the person nearby, who, by the way, is pretty involved himself.
Now, I just look at it and amuse myself.
Every now and then there'll be call of "Hey Wassup?" from someone who'd miss me somehow.
Other than that... silence...
Paras - wassup?
Shanty - wassup?
DHM - wassup?
J- girl - I know wassup coz I got the "Hey wassup" from you.
Wassup Sush, Sumi, Bogi?
Wassup Crazy-5, Anii?

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

A cup of Wrath

I have a little cup of wrath inside me,
a cup of dark, black poison,
been accumulating over time,
guess it's blood from my heart.
Often it splatters some drops onto someone,
pouring out from my lips,
It will burn your heart, mind you,
if it ever spills on to you.
And maybe it'll kill myself too,
if it ever overflows unto me,
Yet it is the poison from my heart,
collected each time I bled.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Made In India

Yesterday, after I frantically searched for the belan and couldn't find it, I found other things that my husband had bought, stowed away and forgot about. Among them I found this fancy apron. Tough cotton-polyester material with a sombre brown color. Adjustable halter with buckles. I remembered the ones that Moum had bought in India, for her mother - bright colored ones with laces (both at the halter and back) that needed tying. The cloth was of the same material which are used to make those bright colored cotton drapes. (Hope you get which ones I am talking about - The "khaki" types.) Anyway, as I thought of how American and Indian stuff differ, I suddenly remembered that most clothing in USA comes from third-world countries like ours. I decided to look at the label. Made in Pakistan. How many women in Pakistan wore aprons while cooking? Better still, whoever made this apron (considering its a guy),does is wife know what an apron is? Or does He know?
Each day, I wear clothes that are made in India, Pakistan, China, El Salvador, Guatemala.... each day I use other products that are made there.
Sometimes I marvel at the warmth of a sweater bought in America, only to find that it was made in India. (Patiala? Jalandhar?)
Sometimes an awesome looking attracts my attention at the store. Guess where it was made?
My India!
California is one of the most beautiful states in America. I am lucky to be living in it.
Is it prettier than India?
Just tidier, cleaner and more... lets say... well-mannered.
India is greener, fresher and more bountiful.
If only we'd know how to keep it that way.
As we go out for a drive here, I realize that the only difference is the individual himself.
If each one of us abides by the law, takes care of our own manners and takes care of our own responsibilities, India would be so much better to live in.
We don't need a revolution in India, we need a revolution within us.
Punk always scolded me if I threw trash in the wrong place in India. Now I know why.
To me it seemed okay to do that at that moment. Now, I know better.
Its just about us. We need to take responsibility for our own selves.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

A Piece Of You With Me

“Best is to send me handwritten letters”. “Hmmm… your handwriting gives me a piece of you”, I said. Handwritten letters! How long since I saw the last of them? Maybe 10 years? Nobody writes them nowadays. No one has time for “snail-mail” unless you have to send important some important “hard-copies” such as, maybe, filled up applications.
Handwriting succeeds where photographs fail. It’s so much more than that freeze frame where people strike a pose to look good. Handwriting is live piece of you with me.
Long time since I wrote handwritten letters. My friends and family don’t have the time or patience to read my handwriting. And if I ask them to send, I get laughed at.
Love letters are now short SMSes – “lv u”, “msng u” ...
Motto is “Save Paper”. Never mind the other ways in which they are wasted.
And postcards!!! What postcards??? Even Photographs are now “soft copies”!
The last postcards I received were from my brother, in his first courier since he left in 2001. Nothing was written on them.
The one before that was from my Uncle – a night view of the beautiful city of Los Angeles, the city of angels. Hurriedly scribbled on to let me know that he’d met my brother.
I remember how Aita loved reading my letters. How brother loved reading them when he was in Jaipur. In HS, they were a support system for the Evergreen Sands. Now he scoffs at them.
And how I loved reading Suman’s letters during my 10th Boards study break. Great entertainment and updates. I miss Suman. But more than that, I miss her letters.
Hmmm… so I’ll revive the art of “hand” letter writing again. I’ll write to someone.
What should I write?
Let me get a paper first. And then a pen. Words shall follow.
PJH, I know that you think that writing letters is stupid. Thankfully, the photograph with your cross-signature is still with me - a piece of you. So is the half-filled form. Your handwriting is really cute. Reminds me of an old friend, Curry.
DHM, I don’t remember seeing your handwriting. Wish I could.