What It Was Like for Ghosts

It was explained to them
this would be joy.
They were misinformed.
Haunting proved tedious
as watching grass grow
in the dead of winter
interspersed with ugly moments of
unwittingly terrifying the ones they love.
In other words, it was life
minus the urge to declare,
“I wish I was dead.”

-- John Grey

Order in Chaos

She sways in felicity,
rummaging and pillaging
through my mind;
her incisive words,
resound a thousand
times, before they're
enshrined deep inside.

My thoughts snatched,
soul enraptured,
I flounder about,
scathed, stunned,
looking for order
in utter chaos.

(The first line is inspired by Lord Bryon's poem 'She walks in beauty' but the theme is completely different.)

She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

-- Lord Byron

Parting

My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

-- Emily Dickinson

Too Alone

I’m too alone in the world, yet not alone enough
to make each hour holy
I’m too small in the world, yet not small enough
to be simply in your presence, like a thing—
just as it is.

I want to know my own will
and to move with it.
And I want, in the hushed moments
when the nameless draws near,
to be among the wise ones—
or alone.

I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for where I am closed, I am false.
I want to stay clear in your sight.

I would describe myself like a landscape I’ve studied
at length, in detail;
like a word I’m coming to understand;
like a pitcher I pour from at mealtimes;

like my mother’s face;
like a ship that carried me
when the waters raged.

- Rainer Maria Rilke
From 'Book of Hours' translated from German by Anita Barrow & Joanna Macy

Give me your hand.

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

-- Rainer Maria Rilke
(translated from German by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrow)

एक बरस बीत गया

झुलसाता जेठ मास
शरद चाँदनी उदास
सिसकी भरते सावन का
अंतर्घट रीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

सींकचों में सिमटा जग
किंतु विकल प्राण विहग
धरती से अंबर तक
गूँज मुक्ति गीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

पथ निहारते नयन
गिनते दिन पल छिन
लौट कभी आएगा
मन का जो मीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

-- अटल बिहारी वाजपेयी

Forlorn

Of what use,
is a stunted plant
in a forest known for
its blooming mangroves ?
All plants I can think of,
graduated into trees,
who shall bear fruits,
shower their flowers,
by whose names the forest
shall ever be remembered.

They gave me another chance
to prove my worth,
A solace ? Or, apathy
guised as sympathy ?
They should've rather
chopped me off, and
planted a better seed.
But who knows, the curse
could have passed on ?

Let me crush myself,
peacefully, and
let their image
remain untarnished,
let the soil save its
little nourishment.
To decay once for all,
is better than rotting
bit by bit everyday.


(The backdrop is the suicide committed by one student a few months back)

Remorsified

There I was, enjoying my favorite flavored milk and snacks in my favorite cafe when I heard the cars screech to a halt. A beggar, apparently blind, who was crossing the busy Velachery main road had just got another chance to live. "It must have been his 'n'th chance", I gibed. I was busy devouring, till I noticed him entering the cafe, as if he had heard me. Tattered, filthy clothes, cloth bag around his shoulder, his eyes blinking, he stood still. "May be he is hungry, and is going to ask for something to eat", I thought. I was wrong. He gauged the location of cash counter using his 'sixth sense' and went towards it. "So he wants money, all beggars are the same.", my mind was gushing thoughts. He went to the cash counter, not far from me and said something in Tamil. He then, took out a packet of incense sticks (agarbatti) and showed it to the counter in-charge. He pointed it towards the coffee machine, which proved he was actually blind. Out of what he said, I could make out the words "Nalla (good) quality batti, Sir", which he repeated many times, eyes still flickering. He had proved me wrong - on three accounts. He was not a beggar and he didn't ask for food or money.

I watched him, ashamed, puff still in my mouth, as if it was waiting for direction to be gulped. I thought that the shop keeper might shoo him away saying 'this is not a departmental store'. But he was more compassionate than I thought. He took a packet of 'batti', and gave him a 20 rupee note. The blind salesman took it graciously, and kept in his cloth bag. He said "Nandri(thankyou) Sir", and walked his way out. There was no way he could check whether he was paid the right amount, but I was sure he was. People in this part of the country have integrity. And I was left there, gulping down grub worth Rs 50. I was amazed to see his dedication to earn his living, jeopardizing his life. He could come under the wheels anytime. The option to beg was always open for him. Or he could go to some temple and live on free food. But here he was, earning his bread. I couldn't judge if the amount he earned by selling 'battis' was enough to feed him for the day, let alone his dependents, if any.

There was a lump in my throat which had blocked the way to my alimentary canal. And I really regretted what I'd previously thought of him. "I need to buy some incense sticks, too", I mumbled. I finished, paid and left. I looked for him, on the road outside the cafe. He wasn't visible anywhere. Perhaps he had gone into another shop. I frantically peeped inside all shops nearby, to which he might have gone tottering, in such a short time. He was nowhere.

The remorse was to linger and melt me from within.

While you read this, he wanders on the roadside, in the cafes, eyes flickering as if trying in vain to see the world outside. If I see him again, I'll plead him to stop blinking, is it worth working so hard to see such a crooked world ?