What begins, always ends
And all ends have a beginning
Just like in Life
And in everything else
Life too begins
And Life ends
The journey lies in between
Suspended in memories
And disbelief!!
What begins, always ends
And all ends have a beginning
Just like in Life
And in everything else
Life too begins
And Life ends
The journey lies in between
Suspended in memories
And disbelief!!
Democracy is imprisoned
In the name of justice
Justice is imprisoned
In the name of freedom
Freedom is imprisoned
In the name of Peace
Peace is imprisoned
In the name of War
War is shackled too
In the name of economy
Economy is prisoned too
In the name of capitalism
Capitalism is boxed too
By the markets and profits
One person’s loss is
Another one’s gain
The media is imprisoned too
In the name of propaganda
Propaganda itself is made of lies
Lies aren’t free too
They have to hide the truth
Truth is in gallows too
On non-bailable terms
Don’t ask who benefits
Everyone has lost the plot
Old money gets older
New money becomes old
Those who are poor
Remain poorer
How else will we define
The real rich?
Marginalized communities
Define the majoritarian
Who turn authoritarian
Till…till everyone loses the plot
And the script flips
Nature loves entropy
But it likes balance too…
Not everyone gets away
With it all…
Where do you stand?
Uru in kannada means ‘town/village/native place’. It turns out that I have experienced extreme summers in multiple major cities/towns of India.So I really don’t know which place I belong to whenever I think of hot summers.
My ancestors lived in the arid plateau of North Karnataka, I was born and brought up in Bombay. But every summer holidays we went to my grandparents place till we stopped going and they moved on. So hot summer afternoons were spent listening to my grandma’s tales from scriptures, playing with siblings and cousins till native homes were around. So did that place stop being my Uru? I really don’t know.
Then there were summers spent in Bombay in various suburbs. Mangoes and playtime dominate the memories. Also reading the few books we had again and again. Postponing all studies and homework till the holidays ended. The school reopening often coincided with the onset of monsoons.
Then I have been in other Urus looking for shade in the hot summer afternoon, thirsty sojourns and all yummy Rasnas and Ruh Afzaas to quench the thirst. The west of India has its own charm. Officially summer ended with watching monsoon on marine drive (not very far from the hospital where I was born).
I often wonder did the sea breeze kiss me in that cradle room before others did? I feel more like a wild nomadic kind who loves nature, seas, hills and starry nights. And most of all the evening breezes which come from nowhere to caress you at the end of a tiring day.
Like Kamala Das, I am digressing, I am from many places and have found unexpected twists and turns in life all the while searching for myself and trying to make peace with the void within. Love came and passed, like it always does – just like summer.
I am envious when flowers bloom, trees bear mangoes and other fruits while we face sweltering heat. I always thought, I am not a summer person.
And then one summer I found myself dirt poor in Paris with my young son. We rationed to afford a gelato but we splurged on a TGV ride. We thought it was going to be the only summer of our lifetimes spent in Lyon and Paris. But then that wasn’t to be…
Little did I imagine my boy would move there and I would move cities – another Uru and will be living by myself waiting for summer break to catch my breath. Listening to my son complain about unbearable heat in Paris and him wanting to be in my Uru to escape the heat.
Dystopian times indeed…summers are strange in any uru – any town – native or non native towns, be it here or in Europe. But then one can find kindness lurking in shadows in the hot cruel summer heat. I shifted to Uru two summers ago and found immense kindness in the city that had completely changed.
And then one fine day, in a cab ride, I found my playlist which resonated completely with my state of mind. Little did I imagine that I would be writing this prose poem while waiting for the live concert of same soulful songs to begin. Summer does spring surprises while springs often go summer!!
In a world
Where judgement
Precedes knowledge
Prejudice before
Understanding
In an era
Where world tries
To make you
Someone else
Weaves a tale
That suits their
Narratives
A world where
You are a misfit
You feel naturally
Like an imposter
In a world
Everything seems
Staged and performative
A doll’s house perhaps
Anything original
Is constantly doubted
Needing proof
A world which
Keeps validating lies
Creating false narratives
And a cloud of confusion
What else can you feel
But an imposter?
There are masks
Behind masks, underneath masks
Agendas hiding agendas
Like Martyoshka dolls
All identical and empty
A riot of shamelessness
Arrogance of patriarchy
What else can you be?
But an Imposter
Shape shifting, flowing
Trying to fit in
But feeling half empty
And also overwhelmed
You didn’t ask for this ride
You didn’t ask for these lies
Or these false narratives
Not sure who is
Hallucinating here
Me or you ?
Or who is the imposter?
Me? Or You?
Or the humanity itself!!
Marianne you sang
“As Tears Go By”
At a very tender age
And then life happened
Men took you for granted
They were seen as Bohemians
But you were labelled a slut
You went down the rabbit hole
Found yourself living on the streets
One has to hit the bottom low
To reverse the curve
Which you did brilliantly
And with much grace
You didn’t hate the men
You chose to rise above them
They sought popularity
You took refuge in literature and poetry
You forged your own solo path
And gave the world its own
Cold war anthem
“Broken English”
A complete arch of life
Beating all odds
Seeking depth and beauty
Amidst all the darkness
Your voice changed too
But your singing didn’t
The world denied you awards
Time and again
But you never cared
Life has to be lived
After all for life’s sake
Not for the sake of
Judgement and validation
Validation from whom?
And for why?
People will discover
Your “Seven Deadly Sins”
Which actually saved you!!
Oh! Marianne…
As life goes by…
Your words ring so true!!
Image courtesy: Album cover of Broken English
We will certainly wait
But for how long?
Can you hear the collective gasp?
Can you see the crimson pyres?
Sorry, there is no waiting time
In this game of death!!
How long do we wait?
For better sense to prevail
For wars to end
For children to get a chance
To live their life
How long do we wait?
For the Time that never arrives
Time of peace
Time of love
Time of kinship
How long do we wait?
For the rains
For the barren land
To become green again
For the earth to heal
How long do we need to wait?
For the stars to be visible again
To be able to breathe again
Perhaps sing again
How long do we wait?
For a day without news of abuse
A day with no school shootings
No war or no killings
No rapes or acid attacks
Just how long?
Just how long before we value
Humanity and living
How long before we value
Equality and love
We have been waiting
Far too long
Too too long
To find ourselves
To love ourselves
There are ways to live forever
Through your sheer talent
There are ways to be
Remembered fondly
By gently nudging the broken souls
Be it Van Gogh or Sylvia Plath
Or countless many more
Who struggled for existence
Struggled to pursue their passion
They died as mere beings
Unrecognised mortals
But lived forever
As Immortals…
Time truly
Is a game changer
The more you
Try to hold on to it
The more quickly it slips away
And then without
Your knowledge or approval
It makes you live forever
As immortals…
Condemned to be
As per everyone’s
Imagination and perception!!
It is difficult to be optimistic
Some always see
half glass empty
Because it is empty
Emptiness is overwhelming
And it consists of suffering
And all kinds of lacks
A cruel void
But it also presents
Immense possibilities
There is a space to fill
There is a space that can change
However grim realities are
Change is always a possibility
It just happened in Hungary
Before it came to Nepal, Bangladesh
Common young people turned up
In streets and in polling booths
They did not stare at the void
And the status quo
They decided to upturn the glass
That’s the tipping point
One country at a time is reaching
Rekindling hope against all hope
For possibilities against
What seems impossible
History shows tyrants were defeated
There is an overwhelming evidence
We know the half empty glass
Can be filled with hope
And unknown possibilities
We need courage to
Keep trudging
To live with and without
To believe
And to simply show up
When possibilities emerge!!
We devour books
By different authors
About different places
With different perspectives
Diverse stories in
Written in various
Language, words and vocabulary
Idioms, metaphors and phrases
We become inhabitants of the story
A keen observer or listener or
A lizard on the wall
Watching the characters build up
The taut tension between them
and then the resolution
(Or lack of it)
The beginning and the end
The two fixed ends of any story
The story stretched out in between
Just like the tension
Of a guitar string
That creates harmonics
(And the disharmony)
It is punctuated with
Vibes, noise and silences
Books are our escape
Just like music or movies
They create an imaginary world
For us to inhabit
Even if momentarily
Till the last page of the book
The places which are real
For the writer
Become our wild imagination
Our ultimate refuge
Most blissful death
Would be perhaps
Being completely lost in a book
Imagine walking on those
Cobbled street of another time
Or in a futuristic world
And getting left behind forever
For there is no coming back!!
No rude awakenings
Morning alarms and drudgery
No looking out for your
Favourite characters or places
We will become as unreal
Or Surreal as them!!
PS: Ramblings after the monthly book club meeting
Once upon a time
I would lie under the starry night
In utter darkness
To do a Messier marathon
I knew those magnificent
Beauties of the night sky
By their first name
Out of nowhere
They would appear
Once sun disappeared
We would behold them
In the field of view
Of our small and big
Telescopes facing the night sky
Just like the sun
Constellations would dip too
Below the horizon
While new ones appeared
Nothing compares to the
Silence and darkness
Of the dark night sky
Which has inspired
Countless artists and poets
I trust the night
It removes the blinding lights
Both sun and moon are absent
We can peer much deeper
And beyond
Going back in time
14 billion years is the age of the Universe
Along the way multitude of stars
In the billions of galaxies
Are burning away
Fusing atoms together
Forming newer elements
Elements that make you and me
And every being on this planet
We are after all atoms
Trying to figure out atoms
A scientist famously said
Annihilation preludes creation
And vice versa
Creation of new particles
And elements go on
Till the stable ones are born
Nature loves stability
But then entropy is a reality too
In the great cosmic churning
Life indeed is a miracle
But then…
One day after millions of years
The sun will die…
It will engulf the earth
Growing into a red giant
Till then we will play perhaps
This game of war and fear
While sending missions into the space
Such contradicting realities of our existence
We needn’t end it all here and now
We are self similar beings
Made of same cosmic dust
It would be such a pity
To cut this fabulous story short!!
PS: Inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke’s book – Poems to Night