Fragments, unstrung

I am no musician,
neither did I want to be one,
until I heard somebody's music play,
on my way to death.
Not a famous piece,
to have reached me sooner ,
I heard it drift through
somebody’s windows distant,
on my way to death.
Maybe it did not mean anything to anyone else,
But it was an antidote to a dying heart - 

my young heart, that had given up.
I want to thank its creator,
But he might have long been dead.
How many musical pieces have died a death
on its climb to esteem, breathless .
Let me be a janitor ,
where musicians meet-
to pick up broken pieces of music ,
the ones they discard,
the ones breathless.
I am no musician,
but ,
let me dust my guitar and fix the strings ;
I’ll not let any piece of music die -
die an early death -
the music that its creator gave up on,
cursing to death ;
I’ll sing it by my windowsill ;
it may mean nothing to you,
but perhaps ,
it may reach someone ,
who is on his way to death -
that may even be a descendant of yours or mine,
born a hundred years from now.
what bigger reward,
than,
bringing someone back to life ,
though I may long be dead by then

A story of 3 eggs

 

Today was a day of great satisfaction, dear all, today was a day of great revelations and hope.


So while the kiddos were playing and i was looking on, our grocer Janaki came out of her shop with a tray of eggs. There must have been two dozens of egg in it. I got distracted by the unusual greenness of the trees around and my attention turned to the kids when they made some jubilant noise. "Amma, a crow 'flied' away with an egg"- they showed me evidence of the empty niche and also pointed to a far away tree to what looked like a squirrel to my myopic eyes . Very soon a Bali-kakka (the completely black crow unlike the Kaavathi-kakka ) swooped down to prove the kiddos right, patrolled near the tray, looked at the left and the right in a clean 45 degree shift of the head and in a gentle sweep, carried another egg in between its curvaceous beak and flew away again. I was too excited to respond - how many in their lifetime would have been blessed by the rare sight..?! Janaki's business was of lesser significance to me than the crow's - pardon me  We watched the third sweep of the egg as well in astonishment when Janaki came out and took the effing tray in giving the kiddos a suspicious look 

Dear homies, wherever u are now, whichever egg tray you are sitting in right now, have the belief that - at the meeting point of many coincidences, before u enter somebody's refrigerator, some crow may come to pick you up.  Now, don't you ask me how you'll be benefited if any crow picks you up. You'll at least not end up in a frying pan - crows don't cook their food :D

Shine on, diamond!

What is poetry - can it be called as a slow burning frisson of emotions woven with threads of language  making the language and emotions inseparable like the blood and the bones or the muse and the poet..?


You are poetry,
beautiful
but unfathomable sometimes
because
you are written with
a certain virtuosity
for the abstract,
but in a language uttered by the heart
and blood from its chambers…
which not many rightly understand,
except,
perhaps the poet himself
or,
sometimes me.
But that doesn't diminish your worth,
for you are poetry,
don't ask me why
my words will fail to answer that;
but,
if you ask my senses,

they will tell you why,
why you are poetry
that not many understand.

Perspectives : The Cats and the Dogs

( This is not part of #thelittlebuddhaseries , but rather is an imaginary conversation happening between a mother and a son - regardless, let me call the son as Sid)

“Mom , why is Roma ma’am’s cat always grumpy? ”, asked Sid , as they were exiting the neighbor’s house

“That is a cat’s neutral face, mone , not very handsome, but cats are born that way ”

“They are clearly not happy around people” , Sid said

Mom : “ But not that they don’t care - they intently watch you from under the cot or from behind the door”

Sid: “Why can’t it come out and be playful like Rohan’s doggie”

Mom: “Dogs and cats have a different mental makeup. Dogs reflects your mood. Cats don’t ”

Sid: “Rohan’s cat does not stay with him all the time, unlike his doggie - Rocky never leaves the house"

Mom: “You know what – it is a relief sometimes, the ones you live with are independent too ”

Sid: “What relief ?”

Mom: “Dogs are more silently demanding, which cats are not”

Sid: “Are cats not..?”

Mom: “They have lesser expectations ; like one who has a deeper understanding of life”

Sid: “Whatever you say - had that been me, I would have kept a dog instead of a cat ; how about you , Amma ?”

Mom: “More than someone to join in the happiness I would prefer someone to give me strength when life takes a downward turn”

Sid: “ Strength ? ”

Mom: “Yes. Immensely. The one which maintains a poker face whatever happens and walks in a straight line even when the sky falls down is the embodiment of courage. What better sense of security than returning home to one of them ? ”

Sid: “Walks in a straight line? - do they always ”

Mom: “Have you not observed a cat walking ? ; They call the straight line walk as cat-walk in fashion industry”

Sid: “So they never fall down?”

Mom: “Yes, they may fall down too. But on all four legs”

Sid: “Always ?”

Mom: “Always!”

Sid: “But they don’t protect you from your enemies”

Mom: “What if I don’t want to have enemies, but win people with love?”

Sid: “How about thieves ?! ; Cats can’t save your stuff from thieves “

Mom: “What if I don’t want to have things that thieves can steal?”

Sid: “Rohan was very upset when his doggie died – I don’t think that Roma ma’am will miss her Persian cat when it dies”

Mom: “A dog makes its presence known while living -yes!, but it’s its absence – that a cat makes known! ”

================================================================

This piece is a tribute to a very dear friend who is going through pangs of separation – wish children understood Dads better ; wish angels show children perspectives that they are incapable of seeing themselves

I dedicate this to all fathers , whose contribution – just like a cat’s - is rarely seen, appreciated or celebrated as a mother’s is – we mothers score well like a dog does , whereas the silent backing provided by fathers are often overlooked.

The Little Buddha Series - 5

An astronomical surprise !
--------------------------------

Gauthu : "Amma, Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you...!"

<< Based on historical data, the word "surprise" from the Little Buddhas freaks out Amma >>

The worried Amma asks : "Surprise ?! What surprise ?! Where ?!"

Gau: "Keep your eyes shut Amma, it may reach anytime soon" , and , " Our doors will go bang bang and the windows will fly away"

Amma , even more startled , asks : "Entha mone parayane ?! What are you saying "

Gau: "I have prayed to God for a typhoon ", and , "it may reach anytime soon" , Gauthu jumps up and down

<< Amma's home ministry is now seriously contemplating a ban on playing Hollywood movies at home >>

A Finnish Segue

All roads lead to Puhelin
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Back in July-Oct ,2014 , I was in Finland for work ; Finland is where our organization is headquartered in. My deputation was in our R&D labs in a small town in Northern Finland named Oulu. A quaint and beautiful, laidback town which had quite some old architecture to boast of ; a river named Oulujoki (read as Oulu-yoki) flowing right through the middle of town, that had made a nature reserve around the entire stretch of river and it was a protected area with entry restricted to people and bicycles. The river was home to wild ducks floating freely in them. Oulu was a perfect little town to live and dream in.

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Finland , Oulu especially, is in its summer best in the month of July , for it basks in warm sun for 14-16 hours in a day. The sun rises as early as 5am and does not set until it is 10pm or so. That means that the body’s biological clock is tricked into staying up longer than usual, allowing more time for daydreamers to be productive about.

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The inadvertent availability of excess time had made me soak in the beautiful environs and surrounding things – living or not. The cherry tree standing by the side of the Toripakka bus-stop , the Oulujoki river flowing silently but steadily like a characteristic Finnish man, the selfless Raspberry plants growing in the wild by the banks of the river, the wild blueberries that were back to life after a hibernation under the snow and were lush with deep violet fruits , the different varieties of wild mushrooms of various shapes and deep and vibrant colors growing underneath damp trees and vast grasslands – aw , Oulu was a fairy-land for a romantic.

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But any fairy tale , as you know , is incomplete without a Prince Charming - isn’t it so ? That is where ‘Jakub’ fit in . Jakub Jackowski – a Polish man in his late 20s or early 30s ; he was a few inches taller than an average Indian man, and was in the lower end on the Fitzpatrick scale . I noticed a twinkle in his eyes and he was very chivalrous to this petite woman from the East. A slight wink was his way of acknowledging my presence and his facial muscles on the right slightly shifted further to the side - on seeing me pass by. Jakub easily took me off my guards of arrogance and haughtiness , quite effortlessly. “You have an intelligent looking face” , he would tell me on our short breaks together , “intelligence turns me on” , he would warn with a slight wink again. Jakub’s accolades took me onto the skies to levitate like a balloon cut off from its thread , in the clear Finnish blue skies hedged underneath by tall pine trees.

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Everyday , Jakub will board the 8 o’ clock bus to the office. I made it a point to board the same bus too , my plastic, consumer based life in the studio apartment there, allowed me that luxury – a few loaves of bread or a bowl of muesli with a glass of milk for breakfast and with cooked rice , fried salmon and vegetable salad for the lunch, it was not difficult for me - especially with the extra motivation that starting the day with meeting Jakub gave me. But the bus reaches exactly at 8 am, that is the point!, a minute late on the other side and it would be gone, yes, the 8 o’clock bus means that it comes at the bus stop at exactly 1 minute past 7:59 am. On the dot. And you can’t mistake the time because everything that operates in Oulu is synchronized to the GPS – ie to say, the time that your mobile phone shows, which as you know is the time sent by the last mile wireless network connectors , and the time of the bus operations , they are all synchronized to one common time, the time sent by one satellite , which allowed for no confusion about time. You are late by a minute means that you have to wait for the next bus that is exactly 30 minutes later.

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Needless to say, I ensured that I reached the bus stop a few seconds before 8 to ensure boarding the bus. And Jakub boarded it from the next , we would exchange greetings and a short glance which was my spring board to a productive day like getting your morning tea brewed with the right amount of tea leaves.

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Being a conventional Indian woman, I was never direct about my overtures of friendship or whatever you would call that. At the same time, I fantasized about riding on a white horse by the Oulujoki river with Jakub by the side and that goes without saying that I waited for the right opportunity to get to spend a longer time with the man

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On a certain Wednesday, I was making plans for the weekend to visit an “Automobile Museum” in Oulu , and after a fair amount of web search, I found out a small and cozy restaurant serving indigenous Finnish cuisine too . And incidentally , and they were both located around the same neighborhood which made strategy making easier for me, for they both pointed to a hamlet called “Puhelin” that I was given to understand from the addresses. It surprised me that the hamlet was not to be found on Google Maps. And, the pin codes were different , but the hamlets the same, I checked again – that baffled me a little, but I did not want to question a working system that is in place at a foreign land. To each their own! , I thought and left it at that. Then came Jakub, and I tried not to show my nervousness while asking him out. I asked him to join me while I visit Puhelin , and Jakub gave me a suspicious look. He asked me to repeat the name . “Puhelin”, I repeated with an air of superiority to be taking him to a place unknown to him. He still could not get it right and asked me to show the address. At that point , Jakub laughed out loud , forgetting all chivalry , and he told me that “Puhelin” is the Finnish word for Phone number . I was speechless at my own stupidity .

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Needless to say , I missed the 8 o’ clock bus on the next two days. And after I got off the white horse, I bought a copy of “Teach Yourself Finnish” and read it over the weekend.

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Now, when I go on foreign trips you can imagine what will be going into my travel suitcase first.

Let me be an olive tree!

Let my love stay silent -
for you never read it right 
to hold me tight.
Let my love stay silent –
for I can never sweet talk enough,
to fulfill your fantasies.
Let my love stay silent –
for my breath never -
smells like your favorite flower,
to bring you back for its nectar!
Let my love stay silent –
for the sight of my fluttering skirt,
or flowing hair,
never makes you levitate - oh, never!
Let my love stay silent -
for my touch never leaves you in raptures ,
nor do my life offer greener pastures .
Let my love stay silent -
for you never come close enough,
to feel my racing heart -
skipping a beat.
Let my love stay silent –
for the light in my eyes,
never lights up your life, to worry -
if I may wave goodbye.
Let my love stay silent -
for as long as I live ;
will you ever believe?,
my love'll guard you like a tree of olive*


*Olive Tree symbolizes hope, peace, wisdom, immortality and more..