silence..?

"Another beginning." "Can you tell the difference?" 

"What do you think?" 

"Hmm..." "Isn't it quite a thing." 

"It is." "Amazing!" "Its amazing how it happens." "Can you figure it out?" 

"No." "But not all things need an explanation." 

"True." "Are you searching for one?" 

"What do you think?" 

In the arms of morning the stars fade in the twilight... In the arms of night the stars fall from the sky...

hush..!

She was unaware of his eyes lingering on her skin. Unaware when she got out of the bed, unaware when she came out of shower wrapped in a towel, unaware when she stood in front of the mirror and let the towel drop on the floor...

"You're beautiful!" He said lazing his eyes on her curves. Surprised, she turned back. "You're awake?" She met the naughtiness in his eyes with hers, trying in vain to conceal her smile. "I was going to wake you up", she said slipping into her salwaar kameez. "I woke up when you left me in the bed.., alone!" He replied with an impish smile, climbing off from the bed. "Might I remind you that I have to go shopping with mom?" She said stealing an iniquitous glance at his nakedness.

He was drawn to her fragrance. Raising her eyes to the mirror, she saw him moving closer and her heart started throbbing in her throat. Her senses were suddenly alive of his presence. A breath escaped from her lungs and she closed her eyes as his arms slid over her waist. The sensation was spurring her flame inside.

Gently, he turned her around, grazing his eyes over her face, her closed eyes, her quivering lips... She felt his fingers tracing her back, slipping inside her clothes, and gently pulling her close... He playfully brushed his lips over hers.., teasing her.., sensing the heat rising inside...

Suddenly, she broke away from his arms, ran to the door, opened it, and turned around to face him wearing her mischievous smile. "Hush..!" She said before closing the door behind...

personal renewal...

Here are some excerpts from John Gardner's writings on "Personal Renewal"...

***

Life is an endless unfolding, and if we wish it to be, an endless process of self-discovery, an endless and unpredictable dialogue between our own potentialities and the life situations in which we find ourselves. By potentialities I mean not just intellectual gifts but the full range of one's capacities for learning, sensing, wondering, understanding, loving and aspiring.

***

We cannot dream of a Utopia in which all arrangements are ideal and everyone is flawless. Life is tumultuous -- an endless losing and regaining of balance, a continuous struggle, never an assured victory.

***

"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."

--John Gardner's writings

"Personal Renewal"
Delivered to Mckinsey & Company
Phoenix, AZ
Novemver 10, 1990

how..?!!

How do you feel when you loose something you've always dreamt of having, but never had? How do you feel when you loose your dreams? How do you feel living as someone you didn't want to be? How do you feel not living with someone you wanted so badly, but living with someone whom you don't know? How long can one go on living like this?

the little prince

I just happened to remember this book I read sometime last year, which made so much sense to me. But down the line I had almost forgotten about it until yesterday night when I was out for a drive and I dunno how and why and from where the whole of the story just popped back into my mind.

Originally written in French by Antoine de Saint Exupery in the year 1943 (just a year before his death), The Little Prince is an enigmatic and an elegiac fable about love, friendship, identity, relationship, imagination and creative thinking.

Here are a couple of excerpts from the book:

P.S. This might seem to be a very long post to read, but trust me, the excerpts here are worth reading, and I'm sure it will capture your interest, strong enough to make you read this book!

Chapter 7
..."If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened... And you think that is not important!"...

Chapter 9
...He believed that he would never want to return. But on this last morning all these familiar tasks seemed very precious to him. And when he watered the flower for the last time, and prepared to place her under the shelter of her glass globe, he realised that he was very close to tears. "Goodbye," he said to the flower. But she made no answer. "Goodbye," he said again. The flower coughed. But it was not because she had a cold.

"I have been silly," she said to him, at last. "I ask your forgiveness. Try to be happy..." He was surprised by this absence of reproaches. He stood there all bewildered, the glass globe held arrested in mid-air. He did not understand this quiet sweetness. "Of course I love you," the flower said to him. "It is my fault that you have not known it all the while. That is of no importance. But you, you have been just as foolish as I. Try to be happy... let the glass globe be. I don't want it any more." "But the wind..." "My cold is not so bad as all that... the cool night air will do me good. I am a flower." "But the animals..." "Well, I must endure the presence of two or three caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies. It seems that they are very beautiful. And if not the butterflies and the caterpillars who will call upon me? You will be far away... as for the large animals, I am not at all afraid of any of them. I have my claws." And, naively, she showed her four thorns. Then she added: "Don't linger like this. You have decided to go away. Now go!" For she did not want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower...

Chapter 21
..."Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."

..."But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand." "One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."

..."It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

Chapter 25
..."The men where you live," said the little prince, "grow five thousand roses in the same garden ... and they do not find what they are looking for ..." "They do not find it," I replied. "And yet, what they are looking for could be found in a single rose or in a little water." "Yes, indeed," I replied. And the little prince added: "But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart"...

Chapter 26
..."All men have the stars," he answered, "but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman they were wealth. But all these stars are silent. You, you alone, will have the stars as no one else has them" "What are you trying to say?" "In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night... you, only you, will have stars that can laugh!"...

Though relatively a short story, it's one the best books that I've ever come across. The only other book that I can parallel is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

a late night walk... (Part 3)

There was a thoughtful, weighted silence. The road in front of him was mostly empty. Occassionally a speeding vehicle would pass by, splashing accross the water on the street, and he would jump away to avoid the splashes, and would return to walking on the edges of the pavement of the footpath. It reminded him of the stupid games he used to play with his friends in childhood: jumping in the small puddles of water on the road and splashing his feet to try and drench others, though he ended up drenching himself up more. It wasn't so stupid then, he wondered.

Did he just choose to ignore this part of himself or was it that he didn't enjoy it anymore? There was a measure of uncertanity surrounding that. All that he could see was the emptiness of the road running into darkness in front of him.

All that he could see was an illusion, he thought. An illusion. An illusion was probably what he had created in his mind. An illusion was probably what he's been living in, in the last 8 years. An illusion was probably what he brodcasted to others around him. An illusion was probably what had him confounded on the road that lay in front of him...

a late night walk... (Part 2)

The breeze outside was cold and thick. He knew: that he did not have any place to go to; that he was carrying too much luggage for his mind; that he had slept badly every night; that the Bangalore weather has inexplicably changed to colder for him in the last four years; the four year long bourgeois muddle of continuance; cold enough to have put him through many tough situations. He believed that everybody had their life entirely in their hands and were required to live with their own errors and mistakes.

None of this mattered to him though. It may even have pleased him in some way. Pleased him and amused him enough to make him smile. He was experiencing an un-anchored sensation of not knowing exactly how to make life as eventful and as important as possible, but he knew that he wouldn't fail of courage if courage was required.

Walking down the water laden streets from the spell of rain: he was contemplating the colossal structure of Prestige Acropolis appartments at the intersection of Hosur Road and Thavarekere Main Road, about 300 meters from where he lived, contemplating the life he has lived in the past four years. "How different would it be not living here in Bangalore?" His thoughts drifted back in time...

a late night walk... (Part 1)

"I must have dozed off", he said to himself as he opened his eyes. A slight burning sensation in his stomach was making him uneasy. He cursed himself for the overdose of alcohol from early that evening. That evening had been great though. He had been to the 13th Floor; his favorite place, with his favorite friends, and had spent some real quality time there.

Getting out of the bed, he dragged himself to the kitchen bare feet, dressed in his pajamas and fixed himself a glass of water. Water was cold! And with that sip of water, he felt his senses coming to life. Everything was cold. He was feeling cold. Bangalore weather at its best, he smiled to himself walking back to his bedroom.

Just when he was about to get into bed again when a near-distant noise of dogs howling on the streets caught his attention. Walking up to the open windows he leaned against the cold windowpane. It was dark outside. The cold breeze brushed against his face and caressed his hairs. The early summer weather, crispy and dry, filled with plenty of mid afternoon sunshine and pleasant evening, had suddenly and rudely turned cold and miserably wet. This sudden change in the weather, however, filled his mind with satisfaction.

A perfect time for a late night walks, or should he brand it as an early morning walk? He looked at his watch with a sense of indecision. It was 2:17am. If he were to ask anyone for the company, they could consider him thickheaded and stupid. But then again, there was no one he could have approached for this obtuse idea at this hour, he mocked himself. Ten minutes later, he was in his nike and track suit standing outside his house overlooking the intersection of the 2nd Cross.

Four years have gone by since he moved to this house. In the past four years, so many things have changed, so many people have changed, he has changed. The illusion of a sparkling and dazzling city life has long faded from his mind. Lighting up a cigarette and pushing the thought away from his mind he started walking into the darkness. Knowing not where to go, knowing not why was he doing this, knowing not what inside made him feel like doing it. He just wanted to do it…

your smile...

the way you smile
looks like flowers all the while
and it reminds me of the spring
and of the joys it brings
and like the coulds fly
over the mountain high
as if my dreams come true
when i close my eyes
and like a morning breeze
that feels so good
and like a soft wind
that flows in the woods
and like a beautiful sunrise
and a wonderful sunset
and like a diamond's shine
and like the colour of garmet
and like inthe midst of a desert
a lake to see
your smile is what
it means to me...

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert.
Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Ozymandias,
King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains.
Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
-Shelley, Percy Bysshe