a journey called...: figments of imagination

Showing posts with label figments of imagination. Show all posts

Monday, October 18, 2010

ghalib again...

"Today none buys my verse's wine, that it may grow old
To make the senses reel in many a drinker yet to come
My star rose highest in the firmament before my birth
My poetry will win the world's acclaim when I am gone..."

Another brilliant piece by Mira Ghalib. true in every sense...yet, with these verse the time stands still...with these verse I stop to think, eat drink and make merry, with a cold heart, that does not beat by remain static like the broken watch over the ruin city tower, like a old picture frame...like...rumbling again yes I might...but the words are true, so true that we want to hide it...
So flash your teeth to the world,
so say you are happy to all those you meet,
for smile soothes pain
and care seals the wound from outside...
yes only from outside

Monday, October 11, 2010

Recipe of "Sweet Heart"

Romance is not on the cards, so keep your eyebrows in their place. I am not talking about love and all the blah, blah, blah, in this post.Yet I have learnt to make "Sweet Heart"-cookie munchers, addicts and stealer, keep out, for I am neither helping you by procuring heart shaped sweet delectable cookie filled jars from thin air.

Now, lets get into business, I am quiting from giving you all that initial rumbling...!

Easy to follow steps:

For this recipe you need two individuals, can be of any age but having young hearts in mandatory.

1) One person "a" should be made to wait for an hour at one place by person "b"; afternoon for evening is ideal.

Note: we are not making Indian tandoors out of poor souls, in this scorching month of either September or October, so avoid noon time.
Remember, the Indian monsoons are particularly getting erratic for the past few years-so if you are person "a", quit praying for a sudden shower relief.

2) Person "a" should walk about in circles, should wait without showing, anger, remorse or agitation. Should mediate under all weather conditions-promote the rise of promoters of Yoga.

3) Calculate the waiting time to be around one hour- person "a"should be well seasoned through the time period.

4) Person "b" makes an entry, but no place to sit and start discussion.

5) Person "a" perhaps fuming within, person "b"- measuring words, apprehensive of sudden emotional outburst, the search for two vacant sitting places begins.

6) Finally person "a" and person"b" can rest their back and bottom,God Bless an off the route cafe.

7) Two beating hearts try to make, initiate some casual talk, yet the condition is still not under control, the AC, is perhaps not working!!

8)Coffee is ordered, coffee is served. Coffee with heart shaped made out of cream is looking up at person "a" and person"b".

9) Notice the perfect ice cubes three in number lined up, off the hot cup and along the saucer edge...these are vital inventories, you simply cannot overlook.

10) So long, person "b" was trying, failing, trying and failing to keep up... person "a" keeping close to the trait of jumping upon topics, at the same time concluding none...

11) And then the real cooking begins, like a bolt from blue, like a 1000 rupee note lying on the path, like chancing upon a glam girl or a handsome man in a crowded smelling Indian bus, idea strikes person "a".

12) Person "a", picks one of the three sugar cubes and pops it in the mouth- declaring an intensive affinity for all that is sweet and primarily drawing considerable bewilderment and attention of person "b".

13) the stage is set, the plate is laid...next comes the finale...person"a" picks the second sugar cube in waiting, plays with it and cautiously balances it about the heart shape floating on the brewing coffee settled in the table. Aiming right at its center, person "a" drops it with confidence. The cube floats, so does the so long fretting heart of person "b". The cube now semi submerged- the heart of person "b" melting already. Finally it disappears in thick coffee heart, person "b" is available to forget, forgive person "a" for all that initial waiting and is beaming with delight.

14) Mission of person "a" accomplished and there goes the real trick of creating "sweet heart" along with it.

My suggestion: Seems like a good idea to bright up those angry folks, just invite them for coffee and stock ice cubes in advance, it can be repeated anywhere..even at home, if the above settings are unavailable-it could include anyone-look about-start with horrible neighbors first!

Declaimer: "I have not seen this, but heard about this from a traveler bound to the road, who had in turn seen this little sight happen in a quiet inn, off the road. I did manage to ask the name of the creator of "sweet heart", but my friend was in a hurry and just managed to mumble-"may be that was another "peculiar and eccentric" path finder like me."

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

time forgot....

Not a word slipped
Or tumbled down,

not a leaf
on any of the trees
stirred
or fell
even the dew waited
patiently
on the edge
of the precarious blade
the crow looked on
Did a foot move
did a sigh escape
did a soul plead
did i
or did you
say, stir, look
a little..
time forgot...

Saturday, November 14, 2009

pigeon story-2

Though I did not read this book..yet my brief sting with pigeons pursued me to include it here.

Gay Neck, the Story of a Pigeon is a 1928 children's novel by Dhan Gopal Mukerji that won the Newbery Medal for excellence in American children's literaturein 1928. It deals with the life of Gay Neck, a prized Indian pigeon.Mukerji wrote that "the message implicit in the book is that man andwinged animals are brothers."He stated that much of the book is based on his boyhood experienceswith a flock of forty pigeons and their leader, as the boy in the bookis Mukerji himself.He did have to draw from the experiences of others for some parts ofthe book, such as those who trained messenger pigeons in the war.The book offers an insight into the life of a boy of high caste duringthe early nineteen hundreds and also into the training of pigeons.Several chapters are told from Gay-Neck's perspective, with the pigeonspeaking in first person. Elizabeth Seeger writes in a biographicalnote about Mukerji that, "Gay-Neck was written in Brittany, where everyafternoon he read to the children gathered about him on the beach thechapter he had written in the morning." In an article in the children’s literature journal The Lion and the Unicorn, Meena G. Khorana calls the novel one of the few children’s novels from Western or Indian authors to explore the Himalayasin a meaningful way (rather than simply using them as a setting), andnotes the way Mukerji recalls their “grandeur and spiritual power”.

A brief glance:-

Gay-Neck, or ‘’Chitra-Griva’’, is born to a young owner in India.Gay-Neck’s parents teach him how to fly, but he soon loses his fatherin a storm and his mother to a hawk. His master and Ghond the huntertake him out into the wilderness, but he becomes so scared by the hawksthat he flees and ends up in a lamasery where the Buddhist monks areable to cure him of his fear. When his young master returns home hefinds Gay-neck waiting for him. But Gay-Neck decides to go on otherlong journeys, much to the boy’s consternation. Then, during World WarI, Gay-Neck and Ghond end up journeying to Europe where Gay-Neck servesas a messenger pigeon. He is chased by German machine-eagles (planes)and is severely traumatized when one of his fellow messenger pigeons isshot down. Gay-neck and Ghond barely survive, and Gay-Neck is unable tofly. Ghond, Gay-Neck, and his master return to the lamasery nearSingalila, where Ghond and Gay-Neck need to be cleansed of the hate andfear of the war. After that, Ghond succeeds in hunting down a buffalothat killed a villager, but feels remorse for having to kill thebuffalo. Gay-Neck disappears once more, but when the other two returnhome, they find, to their joy, that Gay-Neck had already flown thereahead of them.

pigeon story-1

Pigeons are symbol of PEACE...

Yes I know I know, being a crusader of so called peace in the wake of war and political mayhem..I know that bird quite well...but may be not too well...then a few of its clan members..turned the peace of my house(though sometimes even that gives me the eerie feeling of gas chambers), into a hellish cacophony and a smelling pit. the story can come later of course..but the prelude is equally important...for I have to tell you the ways in which I tried to think better of these Gaelic brutes and infidel peace keepers.

One of a related books or rather a title that could keep me thinking of not plotting heinous means of capturing or killing the noisy deep throat multitude was the breath taking-FLIGHT OF THE PIGEONS-written by Ruskin Bond. many of my readers might not have read the book, but might have chanced to see the movie-"Junoon"-a famous scene- A blood smeared face of Sashi kapoor, pleads to see the face of his muse.

Any war or revolution or events like that give birth to lot of stories.This is one such story based around the period of Revolt of 1857 inINDIA.

This one is different among most of Ruskin Bond’s books, though I have not yet read all of his work. Most of his storiesare either based on his own life’s experiences, involve nature in oneway or the other, and are concerned mostly with normal people andtheir normal lives and thats what makes them very realistic. This one is like a chapter from the history of our country, INDIA.

STORY:The story starts with the capture of Shahjahanpur, a small town villagein U. P., from english army by Indian Freedom fighters. With that

startskilling and looting of english people settled over there with burningout their houses and capturing and imprisioning of their women, ifthere were any. Ruth, her mother (Mariam) and rest of her family , allwomen, were one such group. First they take refugee in the house LalaRamjimal, a friend of her father, but soon people around find out thatthere is group of english women’s hiding in his house. Then a Pathannamed Javed Khan, one of the man of then Nawab of that area, takes themto his house. He puts the proposal of marrying Ruth before her mother,though he can have her forcibly, but he wants to do so with the will ofthe girl. Well, its hard to know he loves her not, but surely he likeher very much and is kaayal of her beauty. Mariam being acaptive under Javed didnt have much options but somehow manages ot saveher daughter for the Pathan using one excuse or th other. In thebackdrop of this story the events of the Revolt of 1857 is presentedbeautifully in bits and pieces. Finally story ends with english armyonce again taking over the city almost after an year in 1858.
a bit about the movie:-
'A flight of Pigeons'.-the story byRuskin Bond was transformed into Junoon by Shyam Benegal. Produced byShashi Kapoor, the film was set against the backdrop of unrest of 1857in the country. Shashi Kapoor, Shabana Azmi, Jennifer (Kendal) Kapoor,Naseeruddin Shah starred in the film. Nafisa Ali (then a nationalswimming champion) was introduced in this film. Vanraj Bhatia scoredthe music for the film. "Ishq Ne Todi, Sar Pe Qayamat..." sung by Mohd.Rafi and "Ghir Aayee Kaari Ghata Matwaari......" sung by Preeti Sagarbecame popular hits. "Khusro Rain Piya Ki Jaagi Pee Ke Sang...." aqawwali sung by Jamil Ahmad was also a highlight of the film. Made in1978, Junoon went on to bag the National Awards for the Best Film, BestCinematography (Govind Nihalani) and Best Audiography (Hitendra Ghosh)in 1979. A year later it captured eight Filmfare Awards for Best Film,Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Sound Recording (audiography)Best Dialogues (Pandit Satyadev Dubey), Best Editing (BhanudasDiwakar), Best Supporting Actor (Naseerudin Shah) and Best SupportingActress (Jennifer Kendal Kapoor).

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Drop---inspired by eloquence redefined

A draught of life
a pint of wine
a vision of the holy grail
a breathe sublime..
a drop of lime..
the sizzling touch
a drop of tear
a crying heart
a drop of rain
at the summer end
a drop of life
to start from again...

Monday, November 2, 2009

break....

Hearts breaks

only to be mended

faiths are losts

to be only reconciled again

Beings are made to'fall' again.

Empty, but...

All is empty, but my eyes..

They keep on dreaming..

Of gorgeous sunrise...

rest is lost among your words...

like twirling stars around my world...

all is empty, but my eyes..

they keep on dreaming..

of gorgeous sunrise...

rest is lost among your words...

like twirling stars around my world...

Friday, October 30, 2009

a little exchange by two heads

Part-1
Icche dana melte mana
Ichche dana bhabte mana
Ichche dana sunno kone

Ichche danar sunne ora....

Part-2
Ichye holei jabe ure,
Shob periye onek dure,
Bishyotake obak kore...

Mitmitiye dekhbi tora!

(This poem was a late night endeavor by two friends.)