Not a poem yet

These are days, and those days were days too,
Divergent, different…separated by a thin but significant line of dew.

Then – There was no time to look for time, work was all that was in line,
Living selflessly for others, others were the only thing mine.
In jest, when I used to search for the world, in the scenes of thought-stills,
The motherhood of Mother Nature used to set behind the hills…
In the lap of its softness and silence, the white dove of my thoughts used to sleep,
The lap of eternity, the lullaby so soft and sweet…a nap so deep.
It was, hence, easy to find pleasure and relaxation in work though,
Sleepless but rested, moving towards another confident tomorrow.
Followed by another evening…an evening that used to slip into my book…
And transform itself into a poem – meaningful and beautiful in its look.

Now – There’s all the time in the world, no plight, no fight,
In a selfish life where I live just for my own, death is in sight!
The world searches for me now, under dim stars, with a candle in hand,
But why is all this no more than a bed of briars and sand?
Running away from blessings, and seeking blasted briar-fields and deserted mess,
No scope of candle-light here, this is the land of darkness.
I can still sleep, though there’s no soft lullaby – Mother Nature at its best…
But alas! This slumber doesn’t bring with it any rest.
New pages of my book – like a dove – white, wordless…have everything worthless I bet!
But not a poem yet…

Isn’t this a poem though?
No, a poem has life…this has death.
So, not a poem yet…
Not a poem yet…

Yeh koi kavita nahin (in Hindi)

Woh bhi din the, aur ye bhi din hain…
Do paraaye desh, beech mein lakeer jaise kuch pal-chinn hain.

Tab - Fursat khojne ki fursat na thi, aur kaam ko hi apna jaante the.
Doosron ke liye jeete the, aur doosron ko hi apna maante the.
Kaam-kaam mein yuhin, dhoondhne sansaar ko kabhi jo nikalte the,
Prakruti ko bante dekh mamta ka aanchal, suhaawane din jo dhalte the,
Jawaan nisha ka sarovar is hans ko gale lagaa kahaaniyan sunaata…
Aur fursat se susajjit ek pyaari god mein sulaa, meethi loriyaan gaata.
Kaam mein hi aaraam ko dhoondh liya karte hum,
Aur bina soye hi agle din ki or badhaate drudh kadam.
Agli shyaam bhi aati, aur phir, sapnon ki kitaab mein aap hi samaa,
Sundar kavita ban jaati.

Ab - Bas fursat hi fursat hai, kaam se ab kaun lade hai?
Sirf apne liye jeete hain, aur maut ki or shaayad chal pade hain.
Sansaar ab mombatti le, dhundle sitaaron ke neeche dhoondha karta hai hamen,
Par jaane kyon yeh sab kuch kaanton sa akharta hai hamen?
Aashirwaad ki god se bhaagte hue, wahan chale jahan kaante boye hain,
Ujaale ka koi kaam nahin, hum ab andheron mein hi khoye hain.
Neend ab bhi aati hai, bina loriyon ke hi sahi,
Haay! Is neend mein zaraa sa aaraam nahin…
Meri kitaab ke naye panne - hans hi ki tarah safed aur nishabd! Sab kuch hai ab,
Par kavita nahin banti…

Kya yeh kavita nahin?
Shaayad nahin…kavita mein jeevan hota hai, mrityu nahin…
So, yeh kavita nahin…ab tak to nahin…
Ab tak to nahin…

Lost and Found

Yesterday, I heard of a man who lost one of his arms.
His pain was such that the world didn’t have enough balms.
He was frantic. He cried and he lost hope. He almost died.
His future looked to him like an unending, ominous ride…

He wrote to doctors, he spoke to friends,
He said he’d try anything, he’d make any amends.
But all in vain…no respite…only pain!

And then…a miracle happened!

He decided not to give in, to fight.
He decided to set things right.
In his determination, he found the healing touch and a healing hand,
His strength emerged out of his own disability. He learnt to take a firm stand.
When everything looked bleak and meaningless, he held on to the light of faith –
A belief in the power that isn’t forever bleak. Sometimes, its effect is just a bit late.

The same power that takes away does give back,
In this power, there is no dearth, there is no lack.

Today, I was a man who lost one of his poems – a creation.
My pain was such that is beyond imagination.
I was frantic. I searched and I lost hope. I was helpless.
I felt like a parent who had lost a child. I was in stress…

I wrote to a friend, “I had scribbled it on the back of a black notebook. Find it, and if you do,
tear away the tender pages and please send them through.”
He replied, “I am sorry, I could not find your baby.”…all in vain...no respite…only pain!

And then…a miracle happened!

I decided not to give in, to fight.
I began writing again; after all, the abstract and proposition were still vaguely in sight.
In my new literary flight, I re-inseminated the womb of creative verse,
My child was delivered again…the reassurance of friendship and hope acted like the nurse.
Parturition in the words, “Inform me soon of the joy of your finding it among your valuable bag of many a possession.”
It took some time, but voila! There it was indeed. Say, this friend of mine must be a soothsayer by profession!

I gave in to short-term loss today. I forgot what the vision of hope and friendship does:
We friends are stars…there’s a forever about us.

Of Boring Cricket & Happening Books

Post an irksome Cricket World Cup, I received 1001 e-mails ranging from ICC to Greg Chappell; from bookie losses to one-sided matches; from Bob Woolmer to rains; from long schedules to a faulty Duckworth-Lewis system…and what not. Quite frankly, I am bored, and cannot care less. I will not add anything else to the gamut of things you’ve heard about Cricket; other than 2 facts that glare at me hard:

1. A well-performing Indian team and participation of sub-continental teams like India and Pakistan is healthy for World Cricket and the game in general. These teams, however, seem to be decades behind the mighty Aussies.
2. The quality of telecasts in India; that is dominated by commercialism, is going to kill the game slowly but surely; what with excessive ads, cut-short commentary and the evident fact that instead of the advertisers supporting the game, it is the game that is supporting the advertisers!

And heck, yes, India did badly. So? Leave ‘em alone. “It’s just a game”. You might’ve experienced the spirit of it all. You might’ve been on the turf, playing the game as much with your mind as with your body…but hey, at the end of the day, it is just a game, and people like me (and many, many others), who have lived this game, have no reason to feel vanquished. Remember, when it comes to winning and losing, it IS just a game.

But we can ponder over what’s going wrong with Cricket. Commercialization in excess? With the next World Cup lined up to be played in the subcontinent (India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh), I don’t see the havoc of commercialization giving the game any respite.

The purpose of this post is by no means to discuss about Cricket…relax…no bookies. ONLY BOOKS! Yes, book-wise, the last 2 weeks of April had been swell for me. Work had been heavy as always, but the books gave me much hiatus.

When it comes to my reading escapades during that period, 5 points worth the ink:

1. One of my students had once borrowed “WHY WE BUY (THE SCIENCE OF SHOPPING)” by Paco Underhill for her Marketing class, and she got inspired by it and worked on a project with the same company that Paco Underhill’s associated with (he started it). So, when Paco was in town last week, the same student asked for my book (yes, she had miraculously returned it to me post reading) and got it autographed for me by Paco himself. “THANKS FOR READING ~ PACO”, says the cover now!
2. I was introduced to the genius of Satyajit Ray. Nope, not the Filmmaker or the Cinematographer Ray. Not the Documentary Filmmaker either. Not the Scriptwriter, Editor or Designer. Not the Publisher or the Film Critic. I am talking about the Fiction Writer Ray. Talk about versatility! “THE BEST OF SATYAJIT RAY” was the name of the book. 21 great short-stories. Oh, what a brilliant mix of real characters and supernatural events. On one hand, the characters are the everyday Jacks; but are memorable; and on the other hand, each story conjures up some element of the supernatural world, which makes for magical reading. Some of the characters are deeply etched into me now: ASHAMANJO BABU’S DOG, PIKOO, POTOL BABU, just to name a few. The stories and characters are simple (real, humorous and pathetic at the same time). Children reading this would be able to enjoy this as much as an adult would, as there is no dearth of hidden symbolism and meaning. FOR THE UNINITIATED READER: GO BUY RAY!
3. Browsing through the CLASSICS section of a bookstore, I picked up “THREE MEN IN A BOAT” by Jerome Klapka Jerome. I had once read a page of it, and for some reason, could never finish it. So, this time, I did. Well, again, what a great book! The characters (George, Harris, J. – the three men and Montmorency - the dog) are so real. Yes, the style of writing’s good, and the book is based on a real account of a boat journey, and it is consistently peppered with humor; but the best thing about this is: IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. IT IS SO REAL.
4. Keeping up with my fascination for Latin writers, I started reading “AUNT JULIA AND THE SCRIPTWRITER” by Mario Vargas Llosa. I will let you know how that one goes.
5. I am still reading WORLD WAR II and MEIN KAMPF. Books like these take time to read!

You’re done reading this post. Almost.

This might’ve come across as another “BOOK REVIEW POST”, but I realize that when you read something, you do put in valuable time and money into it (unless you’re borrowing, of course), so, you’d better be warned about what you read beforehand. For instance, if someone would’ve warned me about the futility of books like “INDLISH” and my SANSKRIT TEXTBOOKS in School, I would never have spent so much as sixpence reading ‘em!

Reader, you can thank the bookworm in cash for these reviews (he’d use it to buy books, of course!).

Bazaar

Bazaar

Raat ki khamoshi gaanvon se nikalkar
Sunsaan raaston mein baith rahi hai.
Yehi raaste savere jeevan ka bazaar honge.
Chhoti cheezon ki chhoti dukanen, bhed-bakriyon ki kyaariyan,
Dhool ki chaadar odhe, bheedon ke mele honge.

Dhoop ki teevrata mein makai ke saath
Baalaaon ki chamdiyan sikengi.
Zyaada ujaale ki aasha mein
Andheron se khelne waali mombattiyan bikengi.

Ye bazaar sabko
Apni oar kheench laate hain,
Khareed-daari ke ye naatak,
Deen dilon ko bhi bhaate hain!

Ratti bhar zameen to nahin,
Par ek mutthi aasmaan khareedenge.
Gaay-bhed to nahin,
Par unko baandhne ke liye rassiyan khareedenge.
Is khaali pet aur garibi ko bevakuf bana,
Thodi si aashaon ka aasmaan khareedenge.

Wahi aasmaan raat ki andher chaadar se
Angraayee lekar uthega.
Saara din bazaar ki bheed mein
Mat-maila hokar garibi se ruthega.
Aur godhuli-bela mein, aashaon ke kaalpanik paatron ka yeh jhund,
Bazaaru raaston se umadkar,
Issi aasmaan mein,
Aansoo bankar,
Phir deen aankhon se phutega.

[Translation in English]

Bazaar

The silence of the night effervesces from villages and
Settles like dust on deserted streets.
These same streets would be the marketplace of life early in the morn.
There’ll be small shops of small wares,
Cattle for sale – lined up in a neat sequence,
Among other things – huge crowds wearing dust on rugs torn.

Along with corn bushels,
The skins of small girls get roasted as the unforgiving sun bakes.
In anticipation of a brighter tomorrow,
Candles that play with darkness get sold like hot cakes.

The show of consumerism attracts every speck of pocket-holes,
This gala show plays even for the poorest of souls.

They’d say – “Well, we don’t have an inch of land...
But we’ll buy a handful of sky anyway.
We don’t have cattle and sheep,
But we’ll buy ropes to keep ‘em tied away.
We can mock this empty, hungry tummy,
And buy a little hope of a sky, nay?”

That sky, listening through the night all this while,
Wakes up and struggles out of the cozy blanket of darkness;
And lazes by the marketplace all day,
Angry on poverty! - After getting pasted with clouds of dust and red clay.
Then, at dusk, when the cattle of illusory hope
Heads home - forming new clouds of dust,
Marching along the streets of the bazaar…
Clop! Clump! Clomp! Forming a vapor of tears,
Bursting out of hopeless eyes, all gloom - mirth stands by…
And evaporates into that dark sky…

New Year, New Books, New Me?

First thing in the morning on Thu, Jan 11, 07, I read a great quotation on Times of India: "Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine." ~ Anthony J. D'Angelo. This inspired me to put this on my blog. It gives me immense surprise to be blogging again, given how tied up I have been of late. No, it hasn't been all work, but a good mix of work, traveling, eating, thinking and sleeping too.

Of course, reading is a given.

Since I haven't wished many a Happy New Year, and since I have, in the last 30-40 days, been to Halebid, Belur, Kemmannagundi, Kolkata and Agartala and also, since I have, after long last, actually read some books that I desperately wanted to read for a long time now; I decided to write. I wanted to share my feedbacks (reviews, if you may) about those books with you. Hence, this posting.

First things first though:

MY BEST WISHES FOR REWARDING 12 MONTHS IN 2007 AHEAD!

My traveling now:

It was great seeing some old temples, rock and stone sculptures and breathtakingly beautiful hills in Karnataka. It was also refreshing to be back in the North-East...back Home.

The opportunity to holiday also came with tonnes of food, sleep, relaxation, shopping as well as reading.

My reading now:

1. The Romantics (Pankaj Mishra) ~ Yes, I did finally finish that. What beautiful imagery! Takes you on a vivid trip to the Ganges in Benares, Himachal and Pondicherry. Simply written, deeply illustrious and immersed in free will. Revolves around the theme of love and poetry (the river talks too). Somewhere, indicates the impotent University system in India, the folly of foreigners out to attain Nirvana, depth of thought and the grit to do what one wants to do. A must read.

2. Siddhartha (Hermann Hesse) ~ This Nobel Prize winner is the real thing! Pankaj Mishra's book led me to this one, and I do not regret reading it at all. One of the characters in 'The Romantics' asks, "Have you read Hermann Hesse?" and pat comes the reply, "Who hasn't?" I hadn't. Now, I have. I intend to read more of Hesse. This is a masterpiece. Takes you through the introspection of a man, free in his will and thought to experience all worldly pleasure and pain; and as a result, attains Nirvana through indulgence. Goes through stages and unlearns everything learnt in the previous stage. Gets reborn again and again. What a read!

3. Time Stops at Shamli (Ruskin Bond) ~ Saw this at the Airport Bookstore in Kolkata, and was surprised I hadn't read it. Picked it up by instinct, and devoured the classic Ruskin delicacy in huge, fulfilling morsels. Burp!

4. Sachin Tendulkar - Masterful (Peter Murray & Ashish Shukla) ~ The great career of a great Cricketer, the great thought-process and grit of a great person. Sachin...truly masterful. Good illustrations and vivid too. Inspiring to the core, and a good refresher that there was a time when I played seriously good Cricket, and wanted to join the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore. Easy and exciting read. A must for Cricket buffs as well as for ones looking for some inspiration.

5. Rich Dad, Poor Dad (Robert T. Kiyosaki & Sharon L. Lechter) ~ Boy! I thought books about money could be all fart and teach you zilch, but this one is a cut above the rest. HIGHLY PRACTICAL, AND RECOMMENDED FOR ANYONE AND EVERYONE WHO WANTS TO CHANGE HIS/HER ATTITUDE, OPINION AND BEHAVIOR TOWARDS MONEY.

Now, I spotted a common thread in all these books: THEY ALL INSPIRED ME TO START AFRESH. TO UNLEARN. TO UNWIND. TO BECOME A BABY AGAIN. A GREAT LESSON LEARNT.

The books waiting in line now? Several lying on my desk actually:

1. Shantaram (Gregory David Roberts) ~ An impulse buy, but I am hooked on now. Was written in jail 2 times and was snatched away by the Jailors, and the final version was the third version! That was reason enough for me to pick up that book. I later realized that it is also on the bestseller list currently.

2. Indlish (Jyoti Sanyal) ~ Gifted to me by Courtney Lenart, an American student. I am not too excited about this one, but will read it just thinking of sweet lil' Isabellah, Courtney's 2-year old daughter.

3. Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) ~ I have been time and again compelled and directed towards Latin Writers, and I am told that there are few better than Marquez. This book is supposed to be painful and sentimental, but at the same time, ridiculously funny. Looking forward...

4. The Oxford Collection of Munshi Premchand's best Works (in English) ~ This one for old times' sake (those sultry afternoon classrooms and the Hindi classes at School).

5. One Land, One Billion Minds (Sridhar Ramanujam) ~ This one is making waves in the Indian Advertising Industry and B-Schools. I did read 2 chapters, and am looking forward to finish it. Seems to be a simple and easy read, but a bit too hyped, I am afraid.

6. Business Research Methods (Donald R. Cooper & Pamela S. Schindler) ~ My subject, my area, and was gifted to me by a fellow Faculty member. I doubt I'll read it in the near future though. Maybe some other time...

That's that then.

I like the fact that these books broke my silence and made me blog again. In business terminology, I am B2B (Back 2 Blogging)!

Maybe I am starting afresh. Maybe I am unlearning. Maybe Mishra, Hesse, Ruskin and Kiyosaki are working. Maybe...it's the kid in me.

The book-"warm",

Kranti