the old stone, damp underneath the feet wrapped in moss, slippery to say the least. i walk with careful strides with eyes set ahead the many garish sights before me pass unnoticed.
and then i stop.
i see the misty haze waiting across the street now i must walk amongst the clouds laying ahead. slipping through my fingers they embrace your warm body and caressing your raven hair rest upon your long eyelashes.
"i was foolish enough to attend a local rock concert. i had hoped against hope for good music. i was foolish."
***
...so here's a bit of a saving grace. a little something for all Pink Floyd fans. don't ask where i got it all from. i have pretty much every fart sound those buggers made...
***
ps: there are 4 tracks on the playlist...indulge! :)
"Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" ~ William Blake (the Tyger)
...spent time in the College, discussing poetry with the professors. this year's batch at the English department is sure to have their task cut out for them and a lot to contemplate about. Byron, Blake, Keats, Shelly, Tennyson, Milton, Lee Hunt...some of the ones i like are 'IN'. sadly, i am not a student of literature per say.
i have always pushed the idea of incorporating a study of a certain kind of modern literature, the comic book one, into the syllabus. comics have the capacity to open an entire world of human thought channeling it into a graphical vision that has only added to the meaning of the written word, despite being camouflaged in ink strokes. from my first comic book of Flash Gordon and emperor Ming battling it out, to my collection of Batman comics and the dark Kafkaesque insanity of the Joker's existence and purpose, comics have gripped me unlike any other form of written literature. if Nietzsche was the dark prince of the philosophical genre, who immortalized chaos and insanity and the utter lack of human morals in his books, it was the Joker that brought his ideas to life. the Sandman saga of Neil Gaiman re-established the existentialists and their order of the inevitable death and the meaninglessness of the resurgent and constant human effort against the unstoppable tide of time. sometimes bodering on the very edge of our foundations of right and wrong and even God. comic books and poetry have a lot in common. it is the idea underneath the ink that lures, and in some cases to the ones that dig deeper, it appals.
the feline's lazy stretch is interrupted midway and suddenly his fur springs up, electrified...the ears twitch continuously and in one leap the cat is at the window. looking out. disapprovingly. cats never liked water anyways. i am a different story.
like the parched earth, i too await the first rain...to drench in it. to let the water droplets spatter all over me in their fall from the heavens. to listen to the booming call of the thunder that promises more rain. to see the streaks of white lightening dart down from the skies, telling me that my wait is over. now is the time to indulge. rejuvinate. and i do what i always did as a child. run out and stand in the rain...
"for a while a part of me long gone, lives again in the rain."
...then i take the bike out for a ride. stop by at the chai-walla. but today i shall order a coffee. "ekdum kadak karna mausi." light up a cigarette. sit down and see the world pass by, some running helter-skelter to escape the downpour, others calmly soaking up like me. on the way back home it is the obvious stop at the paani puri walla. indulge me!
"the 'current' me has his own way of enjoying the rains. "
...today was the first rain of the season.
*
*
***
inside Crossword
rains mean books. a few shorter hours spent picking up the right ones i would want to read...
...and long hours by the window reading whilst the rain drizzles outside.
***
pigeons are filthy birds. i never really liked them. to me they are pigs with wings. just that they are uglier. the cat too has a certain disdain for them. he merely swats at them with his paws...
...but they do make for being good subjects for the camera!
...epochs are traversed in search of him. time in which civilizations were built and destroyed. the sacrifices that we have made; cutting out our own beating hearts at the altar, pillaging our own homes and burning our own children. all merely an attempt to placate an insatiable hunger...
stones, metals, mountains, rivers. our hands have carved, bent, melted and molded them all. even as wars have been waged and battles have been fought over centuries, during which we pushed ourselves to the limits of our imagination and resourcefulness in turning stones and sticks into a screeching messiah of instantaneous death and annihilation. we put our only world at stake to build a house for him who shall never come down to us. was all this was but an illegitimate bastard's attempts at finding the approval of his father and to appease and uphold him? him, who had forsaken him at birth. him, who had walked away a long time ago.
"we are the angry children of an angry God."
we shall burn the ones who say otherwise. we shall rape and murder the ones who oppose us. we shall eradicate the ones who stand in our way. and in doing so we shall find our rightful place beneath the feet of our father when the day of reckoning comes.
...time is held still as we find the peace within ourselves. a sense of belonging with the world around us. a world that was created in immense beauty. a mirror to the joy that our birth brought to him...
the gentle fragrance of the blossoms of spring bring to us the message from him. we are to be flowers ourselves and spread the love that we have been infused with to the ones around us. bring joy to the beleaguered and tired eyes of our fellow men. like the flower of spring does to our eyes. we are to heal the wounds of misguided hatred with our compassion and save this world that we have been bestowed with for the many children of our father who shall one day come following in the footsteps of our father himself.
"we are the happy children of a joyous God."
we shall rebuild that has been destroyed. we shall restore the joy that has been taken from us. we shall embrace all those whom we meet. and in doing so we shall one day meet our father who shall embrace us into his arms when our time comes.
