Was staring at the sky,
Somebody walked by,
My eyes alighted, alighted with a sigh,
Impatient and restless,
They hunted low and high,
My heart beat fast,
Oh please don’t cry!
Puzzled and bewildered,
I kept asking my eye,
Did you see something true,
Or is it another lie?
Did someone enter my life,
Or someone bade goodbye?
Tell me, is it the same old love,
Or someone new has touched by!?
About Me
- Aru
- Very commonplace yet very unique. I'm interested in things which almost everybody is interested in, still i'v some interests which no one finds interesting. An enigma wrapped in a riddle.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Those Eyes Unknown
Those Eyes Unknown
In the station’s crowd,
My eyes hit a face,
Appeared good,
Till a second glance.
Not something to wait upon.
I lost the face, to face it again,
Inside the train.
Didn’t realise it was the same,
For I just met the eyes.
Mesmerising,
I kept gazing on.
At a distance they were,
The face was hidden,
But those two.
They weren’t looking my way,
But I couldn’t help.
The hidden face seemed handsome,
Just for the tranquil eyes.
And thus…
My observations went on and on.
A little bit swollen, a little elongated,
An odd combination, but so perfectly balanced.
Shaped like canoes with pupils mounted,
Which were half hidden behind heavy, fleshy lids,
As if hanging down from them.
The sleepy canoes looked drunk,
Looked like rowing in a stream of dreams,
Dreams of the future less than the bygone.
Deep and loaded,
Heavy you may call them,
Difficult to decipher,
What all they bore.
Shy when stared at,
Conscious the next moment,
Irritated if you persist,
But with a poise of their own.
Shifting fast wasn’t a trait,
Moved slow, stayed at places,
To make sure of things around.
But not much bothered did they seem,
About anything,
Be it loneliness or the crowd.
Weren’t good as mirrors of soul,
Expressed nothing but stillness and indifference.
Accustomed to this life, they seemed to have grown.
Beautiful eyes, nonetheless!
Beautiful when just rose from sleep,
When closed, seemed pencil-drawn.
The way they looked, was like eyes of girls,
Though they didn’t look like a girl’s,
Had the best of both,
But showed none.
Were either bored of the crowd,
Or were all alone!
In the station’s crowd,
My eyes hit a face,
Appeared good,
Till a second glance.
Not something to wait upon.
I lost the face, to face it again,
Inside the train.
Didn’t realise it was the same,
For I just met the eyes.
Mesmerising,
I kept gazing on.
At a distance they were,
The face was hidden,
But those two.
They weren’t looking my way,
But I couldn’t help.
The hidden face seemed handsome,
Just for the tranquil eyes.
And thus…
My observations went on and on.
A little bit swollen, a little elongated,
An odd combination, but so perfectly balanced.
Shaped like canoes with pupils mounted,
Which were half hidden behind heavy, fleshy lids,
As if hanging down from them.
The sleepy canoes looked drunk,
Looked like rowing in a stream of dreams,
Dreams of the future less than the bygone.
Deep and loaded,
Heavy you may call them,
Difficult to decipher,
What all they bore.
Shy when stared at,
Conscious the next moment,
Irritated if you persist,
But with a poise of their own.
Shifting fast wasn’t a trait,
Moved slow, stayed at places,
To make sure of things around.
But not much bothered did they seem,
About anything,
Be it loneliness or the crowd.
Weren’t good as mirrors of soul,
Expressed nothing but stillness and indifference.
Accustomed to this life, they seemed to have grown.
Beautiful eyes, nonetheless!
Beautiful when just rose from sleep,
When closed, seemed pencil-drawn.
The way they looked, was like eyes of girls,
Though they didn’t look like a girl’s,
Had the best of both,
But showed none.
Were either bored of the crowd,
Or were all alone!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
COMPARE...
It is one of those typical Indian villages, like those you find in Uttar Pradesh or Madhya Pradesh. (Don't worry, I will not take you to the extreme conditions of Gujarat or Rajasthan.) Around 2.20 p.m. it is i.e. the sun is burning almost right above the woman's head. All the doors are closed, the place is desolate, dry, in every sense of the word, and the loo has made a dense layer of the fertile soil (which can be called sand in its dry condition) in the atmosphere, denser than a fog, and it is coloured too, brown. The density, the colour and above that, the sand particles were not letting her see around properly. She had come out to take some water from the village well, but she could hardly even see the water level inside. With whatever little she could manage to pull out, she is tracing her footsteps back. People at her home have even run out of their saliva. So even that little amount of water is a desperate need for her, her family. But as she walks, I can see her sweating profusely, almost melting and the water in the pot over her head is evaporating towards the ever-thirsty sun above. What an ironical sight! And we here, sitting in front of the television, under the fans or air conditioners, complain of heat, humidity and sweating!!!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
VIRTUAL ESCAPISM
VIRTUAL ESCAPISM
While working on the boring, mundane assignments my mind, which is not called the fastest vehicle for no reason, suddenly drifted away to the lower parts of the slopes of a hill. It was partly rocky and partly green, a very coveted combination for hills. Tranquil, the surrounding was; and to add to that, a creek was flowing on the brown and grey, polished and shiny pebbles, by the slopes which hardly made any sound unless you strain your ears to listen to the almost inaudible gurgling. Some very soft-spoken birds also chirped from the tree-tops. But they were also as inaudible if not given attention to.
I was sitting by the side of the water-body, on the pebbled which were a little rougher on the banks. There was a very well-shaped rock too, to sit on. But I chose to sit on the ground to feel that I was closer to nature and the earth.
Clouds covered the sky. Not fully dark they were, but also not white. As they say, there are also shades of grey in this world. But it was evident that they were rain clouds and they were beautifully shady. To top it all, a very slow and soothing breeze was blowing. It used to touch my left cheek and pass and I felt like soft cotton balls caressing my cheeks. And my eyes did not need any deliberate effort to close themselves, as if the breeze was passing a soft hand over them. The whole part of the country seemed to come out of Europe, specifically somewhere from Scotland.
I had had hard time thinking about my future and present work the whole of that day and, without any physical strain, I was frustrated and, consequently, tired. I was wearing a loose, white top with its button going up to the neck. Feeling the breeze, I wanted more of it. So I opened the most uncomfortable button on my neck and, seriously felt a lot relieved and relaxed. Really, even clothes have such effect on our mood.
Then, I stretched my legs towards the creek and leaning back a little (I know this is a very common way of relaxing but I cannot be unique all the time), dreamt of my future, not think. And, to my surprise which could not be pleasanter, I was blank! I saw nothing in front of my eyes except for the beautifully, dully coloured clouds. Just now and then I got glimpses of a beautiful lover or a cosy home at the foothills and a content life. But the next moment, I loved to be blank and alone, and happy that I had got that moment. This was an escape from the unpleasant reality and I took shelter in my dreams, but of course, trying to place a harmony between the two. This sudden fantasy made me relaxed for at least three days and may continue further. People say dreamers are impractical; you should come back to the earth. But who can survive all these earthly tensions if we won’t have dreams!?
While working on the boring, mundane assignments my mind, which is not called the fastest vehicle for no reason, suddenly drifted away to the lower parts of the slopes of a hill. It was partly rocky and partly green, a very coveted combination for hills. Tranquil, the surrounding was; and to add to that, a creek was flowing on the brown and grey, polished and shiny pebbles, by the slopes which hardly made any sound unless you strain your ears to listen to the almost inaudible gurgling. Some very soft-spoken birds also chirped from the tree-tops. But they were also as inaudible if not given attention to.
I was sitting by the side of the water-body, on the pebbled which were a little rougher on the banks. There was a very well-shaped rock too, to sit on. But I chose to sit on the ground to feel that I was closer to nature and the earth.
Clouds covered the sky. Not fully dark they were, but also not white. As they say, there are also shades of grey in this world. But it was evident that they were rain clouds and they were beautifully shady. To top it all, a very slow and soothing breeze was blowing. It used to touch my left cheek and pass and I felt like soft cotton balls caressing my cheeks. And my eyes did not need any deliberate effort to close themselves, as if the breeze was passing a soft hand over them. The whole part of the country seemed to come out of Europe, specifically somewhere from Scotland.
I had had hard time thinking about my future and present work the whole of that day and, without any physical strain, I was frustrated and, consequently, tired. I was wearing a loose, white top with its button going up to the neck. Feeling the breeze, I wanted more of it. So I opened the most uncomfortable button on my neck and, seriously felt a lot relieved and relaxed. Really, even clothes have such effect on our mood.
Then, I stretched my legs towards the creek and leaning back a little (I know this is a very common way of relaxing but I cannot be unique all the time), dreamt of my future, not think. And, to my surprise which could not be pleasanter, I was blank! I saw nothing in front of my eyes except for the beautifully, dully coloured clouds. Just now and then I got glimpses of a beautiful lover or a cosy home at the foothills and a content life. But the next moment, I loved to be blank and alone, and happy that I had got that moment. This was an escape from the unpleasant reality and I took shelter in my dreams, but of course, trying to place a harmony between the two. This sudden fantasy made me relaxed for at least three days and may continue further. People say dreamers are impractical; you should come back to the earth. But who can survive all these earthly tensions if we won’t have dreams!?
Saturday, March 27, 2010
TREASURED TREASURES
TREASURED TREASURES
“I am also human” is just a shorter and more effective way to say that “I also have feelings, attachments, desires; I also want to have some things just for myself.” All of us wish to own or possess certain thing or things. They are not same for everybody, of course, because human psychology is so diverse. And those things we treasure, we hide them, keep them for ourselves, not having the least intention to share them with anybody else, however generous we may be at other times.
The ‘all of us’ that I have referred to above is not meant only for human beings, it encompasses every single creature on earth, to the most unnoticeable one for everyone has got a heart. Desires are different, priorities vary, needs also show such a wide range that the things that we choose to treasure automatically come filtered through all these criteria. Consequences show that some treasure money, some store things, some secure love, some nurture thoughts, some save feelings, some keep people and the list refuses to end.
A few days back I saw a really pretty sight which all of you would have enjoyed. I had gone to the terrace of my hostel. It has a lot of dry leaves scattered around. For good reasons they have not been cleaned by our unbelievably efficient workers. Anyway, why bore you with the internal problems of the hostel. But this dirty terrace of ours was really a strategic point for somebody else. A crow came from somewhere and it was holding a morsel between his beaks. It was something reddish, might have been a piece of flesh or of some fruit. I don’t remember whether I had my glasses on or not but I could not make out what it was clearly and I dared not go near it, lest it would fly away. And I would not have wanted it to, for all the treasures in the world. So it came and chose a spot in the pile of leaves, kept the morsel and covered it with those dry protectors several times, all the time checking and rechecking if anybody was watching him treasuring his invaluable food.
After two or three days I was upstairs again and to my beautiful luck, I saw a crow come for that hidden treasure. I will not pretend to ambitiously identify it as the same one because it might have been another one sharing the secret. And I don’t even know how many smaller morsels had been made of that original one and how many times it had been bitten bit by bit.
I did not think so deeply at that moment, I just enjoyed the way that creature or those creatures, whom we human consider brainless, managed their lives. I couldn’t help smiling to myself.
Then when I reflected upon the incident later, I realised how all of us have the tendency to treasure some stuff just for ourselves or our dear ones and how we turn selfish at that time. Things we keep differ and so do the reasons for doing so. But broadly, the intentions can be classified under two categories viz. ‘need’ and ‘greed’. Need is generally desperate but greed can either be an innocent desire or the ever ‘evil greed’. And having our dear possessions all to us gives unusual happiness, like the way children become happy seeing their treasures that they generally have the habit to collect and hide from potential rivals and robbers.
Turning selfish in such cases, we cannot blame on animals. Man has the same habit. Animals work for their communities and then, sometimes, indulge in self-service. But more than half the time man does not do the former, does he?
“I am also human” is just a shorter and more effective way to say that “I also have feelings, attachments, desires; I also want to have some things just for myself.” All of us wish to own or possess certain thing or things. They are not same for everybody, of course, because human psychology is so diverse. And those things we treasure, we hide them, keep them for ourselves, not having the least intention to share them with anybody else, however generous we may be at other times.
The ‘all of us’ that I have referred to above is not meant only for human beings, it encompasses every single creature on earth, to the most unnoticeable one for everyone has got a heart. Desires are different, priorities vary, needs also show such a wide range that the things that we choose to treasure automatically come filtered through all these criteria. Consequences show that some treasure money, some store things, some secure love, some nurture thoughts, some save feelings, some keep people and the list refuses to end.
A few days back I saw a really pretty sight which all of you would have enjoyed. I had gone to the terrace of my hostel. It has a lot of dry leaves scattered around. For good reasons they have not been cleaned by our unbelievably efficient workers. Anyway, why bore you with the internal problems of the hostel. But this dirty terrace of ours was really a strategic point for somebody else. A crow came from somewhere and it was holding a morsel between his beaks. It was something reddish, might have been a piece of flesh or of some fruit. I don’t remember whether I had my glasses on or not but I could not make out what it was clearly and I dared not go near it, lest it would fly away. And I would not have wanted it to, for all the treasures in the world. So it came and chose a spot in the pile of leaves, kept the morsel and covered it with those dry protectors several times, all the time checking and rechecking if anybody was watching him treasuring his invaluable food.
After two or three days I was upstairs again and to my beautiful luck, I saw a crow come for that hidden treasure. I will not pretend to ambitiously identify it as the same one because it might have been another one sharing the secret. And I don’t even know how many smaller morsels had been made of that original one and how many times it had been bitten bit by bit.
I did not think so deeply at that moment, I just enjoyed the way that creature or those creatures, whom we human consider brainless, managed their lives. I couldn’t help smiling to myself.
Then when I reflected upon the incident later, I realised how all of us have the tendency to treasure some stuff just for ourselves or our dear ones and how we turn selfish at that time. Things we keep differ and so do the reasons for doing so. But broadly, the intentions can be classified under two categories viz. ‘need’ and ‘greed’. Need is generally desperate but greed can either be an innocent desire or the ever ‘evil greed’. And having our dear possessions all to us gives unusual happiness, like the way children become happy seeing their treasures that they generally have the habit to collect and hide from potential rivals and robbers.
Turning selfish in such cases, we cannot blame on animals. Man has the same habit. Animals work for their communities and then, sometimes, indulge in self-service. But more than half the time man does not do the former, does he?
Monday, March 8, 2010
WHERE DO DREAMS LEAD TO?
The shade of the golden sun of winter,
The light of the silver moon of summer,
Create a road of dreams for a dreamer,
But tell me, what lies ahead?
The dream road takes me far away,
So far, that then I see no way,
There I may seem most happy and gay,
With no burden on my body or head.
Feels like I have touched the sky,
Feels like there is no more goodbye,
To say to dear ones who left me die,
Halfway on the path they led.
Then suddenly, to my delight, it seems,
That I’m being supported by my dreams,
Supported at every step, by all means,
Even in places I really dread!
But where are they taking me?
An endless, directionless road I see,
Either I have nowhere to be,
Or there is an end that is dead!
The light of the silver moon of summer,
Create a road of dreams for a dreamer,
But tell me, what lies ahead?
The dream road takes me far away,
So far, that then I see no way,
There I may seem most happy and gay,
With no burden on my body or head.
Feels like I have touched the sky,
Feels like there is no more goodbye,
To say to dear ones who left me die,
Halfway on the path they led.
Then suddenly, to my delight, it seems,
That I’m being supported by my dreams,
Supported at every step, by all means,
Even in places I really dread!
But where are they taking me?
An endless, directionless road I see,
Either I have nowhere to be,
Or there is an end that is dead!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
WHAT TO THINK?
WHAT TO THINK?
“Oh! That was the loudest blast I have heard till now. Oh, another and louder than the previous one. By Jove! Another and still louder. And there, I hear the sound of thousands of guns fired together and mixed with it, also come the painful dying cries of those thousands whose names were written on the respective bullets. They sounded like cries of helpless souls being tortured in hell, most of them, for small or unintended sins. What more bad things can I write about this beautiful, cursed heath? I also cannot ignore the sight of the frightened and directionless running of the other creatures, other than human beings. But to write that sight down is beyond my capacity of framing sentences using my limited vocabulary. In fact, to describe the expressions on the face of the animals appropriately, whom man thinks to be expressionless, is not within a man’s power of expressing himself.”
These and a number of related thoughts passed through the mind of one petty soldier of the victorious army. But, perhaps, he had lost himself in the battle. This drama was in no way new to him nor was it the severest one of his life. He has grown habituated to it now, habituated to the agony that lives suffer due to war, to the indifference the heads of the governments show to the sufferings of their own people whom, they had promised protection with tears in their eyes, as if they had borrowed the pain of other souls and had felt it themselves.
These cries, seeing people getting killed brutally does not make much difference in his world now. He just has to picture the world minus some people and continue deducting some more now and then. Now, he just looks at the battlefield and the tiny, similar looking figures moving around, as an activity that is a part of his daily schedule. And he does not know what to think when his eyes suffer the ordeal of seeing the misery around. He is as blank as a child is when it looks at its homework book. How many more deaths will he brood over!? To stop the pain every time his heart had to bear, he has now stopped making friends.
“Pain!? Feelings for people do not touch my heart anymore. I can no longer love any of my fellowmen. I have turned stone, ice.” That is what he thinks every night. Thinks and believes that he believes it. But I know what he believes in. I know that these are all thoughts of a frustrated man and after all, he is only a human being. He cannot stop loving good people, trusting them and feeling for them. The way he goes on helping his troop-mates proves it.
His life has been, till now, as my readers would call it, a very lucky one. Most understanding parents, a great comrade as an elder brother, well established in his business and a very loving, young sister with a happy family of her own. Touchwood! He himself has also got all he wanted. The only bad luck he faced was in case of his love who deserted him. But she hardly matters now. She has vanished from his mind as if she never existed.
You know what the worst part of being a happy person with a heart is; the sorrows of the world around leave deep impressions on your heart. When you have yourself suffered life, your heart does turn a bit cold to the misfortunes of others because they (the misfortunes of others) only remind you of yours. But when they are new for you, they are like absolutely new, shining, sharp knives hitting fresh meat, making the deepest cuts.
Perhaps that was the reason why Siddhartha was so much affected by only three sights he saw and became the Buddha. But he then started preaching that a person has to stay away from ‘maya’ which is attachment to living beings or things to keep himself away from sufferings. But can any of you please tell me how will a man live without loving the world he lives in or the people he lives with? Even to help someone pick up a paper, you need to be considerate about him first. Then how is it possible to stay away from ‘maya’? And if a man has to stay away from any attachment, for what and how would he live at all? The truth is, man cannot help getting attached to other lives as long as he has a heart.
But this soldier of mine fails to realise this now. He thinks his heart is all butchered and there is no place left on its surface to cause more pain. But he forgets that time heals many wounds and you can never stop your heart from providing space for more cuts. But he will grow up. As for now, he sits on the top of the watch tower at night with his violin, staring at the moon with a blank face but tears rolling down and singing ‘moon river’. I do not know whom he calls the ‘dream maker’ and the ‘heart breaker’. I believe, God. Who else?
“Oh! That was the loudest blast I have heard till now. Oh, another and louder than the previous one. By Jove! Another and still louder. And there, I hear the sound of thousands of guns fired together and mixed with it, also come the painful dying cries of those thousands whose names were written on the respective bullets. They sounded like cries of helpless souls being tortured in hell, most of them, for small or unintended sins. What more bad things can I write about this beautiful, cursed heath? I also cannot ignore the sight of the frightened and directionless running of the other creatures, other than human beings. But to write that sight down is beyond my capacity of framing sentences using my limited vocabulary. In fact, to describe the expressions on the face of the animals appropriately, whom man thinks to be expressionless, is not within a man’s power of expressing himself.”
These and a number of related thoughts passed through the mind of one petty soldier of the victorious army. But, perhaps, he had lost himself in the battle. This drama was in no way new to him nor was it the severest one of his life. He has grown habituated to it now, habituated to the agony that lives suffer due to war, to the indifference the heads of the governments show to the sufferings of their own people whom, they had promised protection with tears in their eyes, as if they had borrowed the pain of other souls and had felt it themselves.
These cries, seeing people getting killed brutally does not make much difference in his world now. He just has to picture the world minus some people and continue deducting some more now and then. Now, he just looks at the battlefield and the tiny, similar looking figures moving around, as an activity that is a part of his daily schedule. And he does not know what to think when his eyes suffer the ordeal of seeing the misery around. He is as blank as a child is when it looks at its homework book. How many more deaths will he brood over!? To stop the pain every time his heart had to bear, he has now stopped making friends.
“Pain!? Feelings for people do not touch my heart anymore. I can no longer love any of my fellowmen. I have turned stone, ice.” That is what he thinks every night. Thinks and believes that he believes it. But I know what he believes in. I know that these are all thoughts of a frustrated man and after all, he is only a human being. He cannot stop loving good people, trusting them and feeling for them. The way he goes on helping his troop-mates proves it.
His life has been, till now, as my readers would call it, a very lucky one. Most understanding parents, a great comrade as an elder brother, well established in his business and a very loving, young sister with a happy family of her own. Touchwood! He himself has also got all he wanted. The only bad luck he faced was in case of his love who deserted him. But she hardly matters now. She has vanished from his mind as if she never existed.
You know what the worst part of being a happy person with a heart is; the sorrows of the world around leave deep impressions on your heart. When you have yourself suffered life, your heart does turn a bit cold to the misfortunes of others because they (the misfortunes of others) only remind you of yours. But when they are new for you, they are like absolutely new, shining, sharp knives hitting fresh meat, making the deepest cuts.
Perhaps that was the reason why Siddhartha was so much affected by only three sights he saw and became the Buddha. But he then started preaching that a person has to stay away from ‘maya’ which is attachment to living beings or things to keep himself away from sufferings. But can any of you please tell me how will a man live without loving the world he lives in or the people he lives with? Even to help someone pick up a paper, you need to be considerate about him first. Then how is it possible to stay away from ‘maya’? And if a man has to stay away from any attachment, for what and how would he live at all? The truth is, man cannot help getting attached to other lives as long as he has a heart.
But this soldier of mine fails to realise this now. He thinks his heart is all butchered and there is no place left on its surface to cause more pain. But he forgets that time heals many wounds and you can never stop your heart from providing space for more cuts. But he will grow up. As for now, he sits on the top of the watch tower at night with his violin, staring at the moon with a blank face but tears rolling down and singing ‘moon river’. I do not know whom he calls the ‘dream maker’ and the ‘heart breaker’. I believe, God. Who else?
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