India and Sourav

O India! Wake up. Sourav is there and here to stay. U tried to oust him with the help of an Aussie Kangaroo. How mean? See Kolkattans fight for him burning effigies and giving their soul for a just cause. Well Bengal thinks today what India thinks tomorrow, n after all Sourav must play. What if he hasn't scored runs for last few years, he has his backers n that is what matters even if Chappell says to selector,"Don't kid he is a test match bowler."
But I do remember the day when I woke up at 4 in the morning, rubbing my eyes to see clearly India setting off their tour Down Under. India reeling with 3 wickets down, in came Sourav, and lit up the Brisbane ground with majestic strokeplay paving the way for a magnificient display by the team there after. Oh that was great, but a long time back. Now everyone including I swirm in my seats seeing him fending off the rising balls with uncertain ease. See the vagaries of life.
But the undeniable truth is, it catches up with everyone, I , you or Sourav. The wayout is tough , varying from one individual to another. But the hypostatsis of the matter is working towards the goal which probably every sane mind knows where it is and how to attain it. Sourav u have to bat for India whether in the garb of captain or not. Chappell u have to guide him, putting aside his lethargy and bring forth his regal
touch. Selectors u have to pick the right team based on conscience and not on phone calls. n what about we, the lordly viewers. Oh we r the critics, n can burn tyres in protest, leave alone other things, in protest unmindful of its usefulness. We do rule. But for a change dear, let India play. Let India play sans those bickerings and parochialness. Let sanity return to one and all for a better morrow.

The Road Not Taken

Here is my favourite poem:-

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the differenc
-By Robert Frost

Explanation:-

This poem tells the story of the poet who is travelling on a road in a wood when he comes upon a fork in the road and, even though he would like to travel both, he has to make a choice. He contemplates where both roads will take him. While one road is well trodden and safe, the other road is grassy and has not yet gone through the rigours of time and thus, as he says, had the better claim. He also remarks as to the fact that on that morning, neither road had been travelled upon. He took the road less trodden, keeping the first road for another day. But he realizes that he may probably not have a chance to go back on his choice, because the world moves too fast for one to look back.

Later on, when he is recounting his tale, he says that he has no regrets of his choice and that choice has made all the difference and led him to where he was that day.

The poem states that "the passing there had worn them really about the same" meaning neither of the two roads was less traveled.

After a long time

It has been quite a while since my last post. Not really busy but just lethargic.
Anyways it was a usual routine month, nothing more nor less. But suddenly there is a big giant stride to be taken in a few months. Life seems to be beckoning me finally, with all its intensity. It can be the time, of something big, which probably I had always been waiting for.

One does introspect and restrospect at times. Looking deeply into his self and the world around. How is he with respect to his beliefs and ideals? How is he going to cope up? Similar questions keep coming up, pushing me all the time to put my best foot forward. But do I , or will I , or more importantly, can I? Earlier I would have said God knows, but now I say yes, because I know what God knows and what He would have said.

Who said it's over?

Do you know a great thing about life? It never gets over, except only once. Before that you can always feel it keeps coming back with the same or different hues and tints. You feel it's all over, yet it becomes the start; u feel u have failed, yet u realise it's the chance to start afresh n u really think the road is blocked, u find there is a tool aside to remove the boulder.
So where do I move from here on? The big CAT, my idiosyncrasies, learning words, skipping classes,
remaining in fantasies, watching nonsense stuff, reading poetries..the list goes on. But still it's my life. Very different from others n in itself, a great delight. Probably prabs never thought it could be so involving sometimes.So living with it as life lives with me (wink).

And now time for writing something literary. Another poem, this time a different one:-

The India that I live in

Leaning against the wall
And jostling for the space
It was getting really difficult
To keep myself on my legs

Such was the rush on that day
In the Puri-bound Utkal Express
That an incomer had to climb
Over the rest to gain an entrance

Wedged in amongst the people
I prepard myself for the pain
"Why the hell, did I board
General Bogie of this damned train"

All stowed with people, the train
Did leave the New Delhi station
Bringing in the much-needed draught
And a general sense of elation

Gradually the squeezed in populace
Distended themselves to cosier postures
Scowling at the callousness of the
More fortunate seated passengers

I too manoeuvred myself into
A more standable posture
With my nose sticking out into
The squalid kurta of a commuter

The fetid aura was odious
And made my head go dizzy
But as the time trickled
I started feeling somewhat easy

I peered at my ambience and was
Struck by the nonchalance of others
It seemed I was the only one
Dishevelled and confined by fetters.

They were all of various ilk
Workers, potters and menials
Going through the motion
As if inured to such ordeals

Some sagacious elderly minds were
Rueing the depravity of Indian polity
While a young ruffian was busy
Leering at a newly wed lassie

Muslims talked to Hindus and vice versa
Without the much televised rancour
Quite often there were lewd jokes
Followed by the usual banter

Destinations kept coming by and
People gave way to new members
But India as it seemed kept moving
On the rails of the chambers

Having remained cooped up in my
Own world of gambol and gales
It was an unusual episode for me
To experience those rending travails

Travails- but only for me
For them it's the usual travel
And they keep moving as if
On order from a judge's gavel

My station, Gwalior, came and
I too moved out with my luggage
But with a strangely developed
Homely connection with the carriage

I reached my hostel, carrying
An unfathomable mix of emotions
But immediately got on with my chums
Raving in those usual passions

I had my dinner, and then
Got snug inside my cosy quilt
Again hiding away from the
Real India that I live in.

How to unravel???

When u get bogged down n r held inextricably by something intangible, how do u get out? My biggest search till date has been this only, when I find myself fettered to such extent that it starts hampering my other life processes. May be here this is circumlocution but it's true of my life. Hopefully someday I will be able to unravel this aspect of my life.

Haan continuing to my other poetry, here is another simple one :-

God came in my dreams

One day God came in my dreams
He asked,
My dear, what is your demand?
"Nothing more than a swish of your wand,
Which will relieve me of my sorrows,
Angst and anguish, pain and pangs,
Due to which my life hangs,
Caught in a vortex of tension.
Please, I continued my harangue,
Get rid of these emotions.
I wish living sans any fear
Mind free and heart full of cheer."

'Amen', God said,"but beware,
Nobody has wished this ever."

I woke up late in the morning
Pleased and fully relieved,
Nearby, there was a furore,
We all had a bad grade in our course,
The boys looked swooped,
But, hey, I was unmoved
Oh, seemingly free from emotions
I went for the lunch.

"Delicious curry and palak to partake,
What a good way to start the day."
But!!! curry wasn't delicious,
Though for others, it had tasted good
Oh God, what had happened to the food
Neither was the dessert sweet
Nor did water taste like water.

I came out of the mess,
Thinking it a part of the deal
At least now my sorrows were concealed
In the afternoon,
I went to the class
She was standing on the grass
With a smile on her face
But!!! It didn't give my heart a race
I had lost my love,
Now rendered to just a dove

Roses were red, but what
Red meant to me
Nothing more than a colour to see

The whole day passed like that
Driving me wild and filled with wrath.
I slept, hoping to see God again.
He came, and asked,
"Hey dear, what do you wish?"
"Please God please, take back this,
I can't bear it more.
Now I know,
Why roses and thorns alongside grow.
I beheld,
Life without emotions, so
Murky and morose. Oh God!
Please restore the old."

'Amen', in the end, he quipped,
With a flicker of smile on His lips.

The bard says.....

Poetry is something which defies logic n creates dreams, at least for me. I dunno how successful I am in realising that, but one thing I know for sure is that the vision is there.

Here follows one of those from earlier times:-

A New Year Encounter

Watch the bland darkness of the night
fading away
Giving way to a new dawn
of anticipation and exhilaration
Making everyone abound with cheer.
Ya! It's the arrival of a new year.

With the same gusto of feelings,
I woke up on the premier day.
What a morning it was,
Everything pretty and looking gay
Making a heap of promises to myself
I decided to celebrate it the best way.

I went for a stroll by the city lane
To behold the beauty and resplendence
Novelty was pouring in from everywhere
Drawing auguries of hope and cheer.

I was pleased to see the newness
Which the year was to witness
And with an exultant heart
I sauntered along to the next part

What a dreary sight it was!
All cluttered up with muck and mayhem
Having no sign of mirth or merriment
It was the slums colony
Tawdry and squalid
Infested by the poorest of beings

The year may be new
But they are the same old
All tattered up with poverty, disease and agony
And residing in solitude from the multitude

My whole ecstasy was vanished
and flabbergasted to see the paradox,
I wondered,
What newness has this new year
brought for us?

The day after the start

Ya, it was the start. I was really not prepared to write n it was only to kill time that it happened. But I now feel it would be a regular occupation, for it does give a good interaction with oneself. I chose to write somethin which belongs to my favourite writings. It was good I received a few comments, even though asking me to make the vocab less harassing.
Frankly speaking I don't write intently to make it high-falutin but I rather flow with my ideas and words come out naturally. Though I have constantly been censured for this, I don't think I would ever be able to rectify it. Neways not a big deal. The ideas r important n henceforth will come a lot of them.

The descent of a belle

The outset is always the toughest, be it anywhere. Need to pass time, get on with the rattle of keyboard and some babble comes out.
Where to start? A desperate go-ahead in life is going on. U know, sometimes when life comes to a standstill and ideas r left stillborn, u wonder whether it is the same you. Oops, probably diverting from writing something sane.
So here I m writing bout someone out there in fantasy. U know when I behold the mackerel firmament searching beyond the rubicon, a nymph of beauty descends gently on the cushions of my heart, disseminating a titillation through the whole of my body. The winsome visage inspires a great enamour for her. How I move through the woods when she disappears with the chuckle reverberating all around. The hide-and-seek,seemingly going interminably long, with her long robe trailing her figure.
At once she turns around, accosts me and blushes. Her rosy cheeks turning rubicund and luscious lips inviting everyone. A few wafts of hair flow themselves on the side of the cheek, and my hands move to put them in order. She moves back a bit, then forward, shrinking with the touch and finally the lips advancing to meet ........
Oh was that me? A reverie. May be. But who was she? I dunno but hopefully someday somewhere.