Gray at I

a hello here, a blink there..

2006-10-20T03:50:00.000+05:30

A funny sort of greeting method is seen going around amongst the hostel residents. Whenever you want to show a somewhat greater affection than just a vocal 'hi' and a smile, you "blink" your eyes.

a blink = both-eyed wink. :D

Maybe it's followed when one' s too lazy to lift up a hand and wave, or nod the head.
I for sure picked it up from our third-year seniors (and now I observe my grand-daughters following the same tradition!) I remember Dots and Consul as its most prominent pioneers. The way a mischievous smile would break out after they had 'blunked' their already twinkling eyes..it was fun!

[livejournal style: "current mood: nostalgic, happy].

Remembering the Bard

2006-04-23T11:13:00.000+05:30

Shakespeare's precise birthdate is not known; he was baptized on 26 April 1564, and over time 23 April has become the accepted date of birth, in part because he also died on 23 April in 1616.

celebrations?
http://mysite.wanadoo-members.co.uk/heartofengland/birthday.htm

One of his most famous sonnets:

XII
1. When I do count the clock that tells the time,
2. And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
3. When I behold the violet past prime,
4. And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;
5. When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
6. Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
7. And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
8. Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
9. Then of thy beauty do I question make,
10. That thou among the wastes of time must go,
11. Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
12. And die as fast as they see others grow;
13. And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
14. Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

A good commentary, analysis and original version of the sonnet's given on this website:
http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/index.htm

A delightful site for the uninitiated. (Mind the colour setting though. You may want to change your IE settings to "ignore colour and font settings of the website" , for a while.)

Though Shakespeare is supposed to have written these sonnets as an 'advice' to his indulgent friend Henry for bringing him towards the noble path of honest matrimony, and the last line refers to the biological progeny of a human being, I guess we can give a symbolic connotation to this line. (That's the fun in being a critic. One can tell the creator to shut his/her mouth and go on and on with one's own viewpoint about the creation, though far different from the creator's own imagination.)

We may say that 'breed' here means the output of your life's work. Who saved Shakespeare himself from time's scythe? Not his offsprings, but his plays and his poetry. The Curies aren't remembered because of Mrs. Joliot 'nee Irene Curie, but because of their discovery of radium.

Would 'beauty' then be physical appearance, wealth and earthly possessions? ..Well maybe - but Then I remember Emily Dickinson's "I died for beauty.." where she claims that beauty is the same as truth, and now I'm digressed again ;)

Some other time maybe, eh?

Neil Gaiman quote

2006-03-15T18:50:00.000+05:30

Just came across this piece today:

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love. "
--Neil Gaiman, American Novelist

The whole prospect surely seems horrifying. What with Ghalib chipping in with "mujhe kyaa buraa thaa marnaa agar ek baar hotaa.."! But people won't stop falling for other people, wanting to fall for other people, not wanting to get up once fallen, wanting to call 'falling' as 'rising'.
I guess in college days, love appears centre-stage in conversation. Heart-to-heart talks with close friends end, if not start and middle, with it. The inexperienced ask questions with innocent eagerness, and the experienced or the femina-educated ones answer with an air of omniscience. The dosage becomes too much if one sees "social circles of individuals shrink down into nothingness" , as a friend puts it, when some close friend gets affianced to someone (who has to be tolearted even if you get an urge to laugh your teeth out every time he opend his mouth to speak!)

Isn't there any way out of this juncture?
Thank God John Donne's there to help:

SELF-LOVE.
by John Donne

HE that cannot choose but love,
And strives against it still,
Never shall my fancy move,
For he loves against his will ;
{Lizzy Bennet on Darcy's first proposal?}

Nor he which is all his own,
And cannot pleasure choose ;
When I am caught he can be gone,
And when he list refuse ;

Nor he that loves none but fair,
For such by all are sought ;
Nor he that can for foul ones care,
For his judgement then is nought ;
{Donne's sooooooo damn intelligent in listing his paradoxes!}

Nor he that hath wit, for he
Will make me his jest or slave ;
Nor a fool when others —
He can neither —

Nor he that still his mistress prays,
For she is thrall'd therefore ;
Nor he that pays, not, for he says
Within, she's worth no more.

Is there then no kind of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own self-love.
{A charming practice, really!}

new blogs

2006-02-22T21:31:00.000+05:30

I've created 2 new blogs.
That so clearly reflects upon the amount of free time that I 've got / I think I 've got.
Anyway, moved the english literary stuff onto the blog bhokaal, and created a maraaThee blog "माझी माय सरस्वती". (links beside)

Talking of free time, I am just utilizing the time saved from chatting and orkutting :D so Jimny cricket needn't prick me that hard..

reading Saki again. If only imaginations could be imbued from the works of creation!

visit to Sandeep's home

2006-02-21T21:39:00.000+05:30

my Mom is Great. The Best.I realize that time and again..but mostly forget to tell her that.
(and later console myself by thinking that I was rendered 'speechless')

I bet this time my "wow! I mean...WOW!" over the telephone conveyed what I wanted to say.

Last week, she read the birthstory of a song "kase sartil saye.." by Sandeep Khare, in a newspaper. Now this was a song that I had translated into hindi last year for Mono, my adopted mommy here at IITK. (my ex-roomie would be a less romantic description.)

My real mom is a die-hard fan of Sandeep's songs (These things run in the family, I guess).
And she's also an avid talker when it comes to describing me and my "achievements" to people.
Throw in the fact that she was perked up by British Nandi's recent response, it wasn't a far way for her to call up Sandeep's home (the number was given in the book of his collected poetry) and ask for an appointment. On the bright Sunday morning of 19th, aai reached the Khare abode in Anandnagar. Sandeep wasn't home, but Soniya, his wife - and their 3 year old daughter received her with warmth. The latter, with an initial reluctance of a toddler who's in the midst of watching a favourite cartoon on CD. But I was told that the reluctance vanished after a chocolate was handed over to her with due haste. Fortunately, it was her "chocolate day". The conscientious parents had made a rule for their pet lamb: She was to save all the chocolates she'd get in a week to eat on Sunday. Talk about aatmasamyama.

So Mom, who'd just gone there to perform a jack-in-the-box sequence of 'pop in, show the translation, pop out', ended up enjoying Soniya's hospitality for a wholesome 1.5 hours.
I hear they talked about many subjects, and it culminated in Mom's advising Soniya upon child-rearing.

My Mom always keeps amazing me. :)

Yooooo Hoo!

2006-02-13T14:54:00.000+05:30

It's a Happy Day!!!!! They all are, no doubt. But this one is very very Happy.

I had sent the "nAdirA" translation to the original author.
One, because Priya had suggested once that the authors must feel nice if they come to know that their work is admired to the extent of being translated for the (poor!) marathi-illiterate folks.
Second, I thought that taking the permission of the original author before 're-circulation' would be a good thing. ;)
And of course, I had this minute hope that My Lord will actually read the translation and appreciate it, if I'm lucky. (We Leos are known to be hungry for praise!)
So I asked him (after having done the act!) if it was okay with him that I translate his poem for the benefit of one of my non-maharashtrian friends. :D (The friend in the question being Marami.)

Here's his reply:

From: britishnandi@sify.com [mailto:britishnandi@sify.com]Sent: Mon 2/13/2006 12:45 PM
To: Gayatri Natu
Subject: hats off!

Dear gayatriji,
i was actually zapped and awestruck while reading the trans-creation (this IS the right word!) of the poem NADIRA. honestly speaking english version sounds better than the original. indeed, it is BETTER. thanx for putting in so much effort...and congrats for the nearing perfection in doing so.
madam, and u ask me,- "chaalel na?"
tumchyasaarkhe vaachak milale, tar "dhaavel!
regards,
pravin tokekar

Enough to tickle me pink.
Should I adore myself more for this, or less..for letting it go into the head for a wee while? :D

Nadira

2006-02-11T12:23:00.000+05:30

Translation of a marAThI poem, which appeared in daily sakAL today as a tribute to her.
original poet: praveeN Tokekar aka British Nandi, my favourite columnist till date.

You are lying down quietly
On the cold iron cot
In the cold hospital room.
Though you don't care now -
There hangs a cloud
Siverish-blackish-gray
since long... around
your worn out, aged and now lifeless frame.
It has sucked in your misty past by now,
And all of the acid that was inside you.
Just like a wet quilt drawn
Over the winter crops on a receding night.

Your guile, your mood.
Your airs, your demeanour.
Your youth, your proud dash
something of a fire..something of ash.
Your upturned eyebrow
The craft in your gaze
Lips lightly casting out
A round smoky haze.

You'd make the hero turn around and look back -
mud mud ke..
Even as he was sinking deep in the tears
Shed by a (more) beautiful lovestruck lass.

You displayed perfectly
The spite of a snake-queen
Picking up the miniscule traces
of her prey..and the male of the species.
But my dear queen, in the end
It turned out to be, literally, 'made up'.
You never had the prey within your reach.
All your life, all that you kept picking up
were some stubs of loneliness.

You were an unadulterated anguish.
An ache.

This final ovation
To your comely villany
No...to that immortal agony.

An excerpt

2006-02-11T12:18:00.000+05:30

from this year's Presidential Speech.

Mission for Scientists and Technologists:

For the scientists and technologists of the nation, I have five immediate national missions:
(a). Increasing the Solar Photo Voltaic Cell efficiency from 14% to 45% using nano technology; (b). Research in proteomics to identify the disease causing mechanism and to develop new methods to treat diseases;
(c). Earthquake forecasting using multiple parameter pre-cursors such as pre-shock conditions and electromagnetic phenomena, prior to the final rupture;
(d). Building a validated mathematical model for predicting the quantum of rain for a particular cloud conditions in a particular region in a prescribed time using the new type of Polarimetric radar and;
(e). Developing the products in the healthcare, electronics and materials to meet the national requirements using the convergence of nano, bio and info technologies.

Healthcare:

Health care community should give highest priority for treatment of HIV/AIDS and accelerate the development of effective anti-vaccine for certain types of HIV before 2007, by networking with national and international institutions working in this area. They should integrate research efforts of malaria, typhoid, and diarrhoeal disorders for facilitating development of combination vaccine by 2007. Healthcare personnel, doctors, psychologists, researchers, pharmacologists, economists and environmentalists should all work together coherently towards the mission of providing good health to all citizens of India and make the nation near disease free.

Nice to know that my hazy picture about my life mission complies with the president's ideas in some manner.

one

2006-02-11T10:59:00.000+05:30

Yeah, starting on the many things seen, learnt and thought over in the 4-day trip to home.

I am culturally famished here in Kanpur, sort of.
Not that one needs be, with all the SPIC-MACAY programmes and visits by authors, playwrites etc. But somehow I'm able to attend only a few of these programmes..and then again , none of them are in marAThI!
Thus i end up a glutton..nay, let's say a gourmand when I go to Pune, stuffing myself with any movie/music show/drama/exhibition that I feel would appeal to my senses.
I recently heard Pune to be one of the two 'topmost culturally aware cities in India', alongwith Ahemdabad. No wonder about that, with as many as 14 big live performances of different kinds that may go on in different locations daily.

So this time I watched the movie 'sAne gurujI'. Would not confer the habitual 'superb's and 'amazing's and 'awesome's on it. The movie went far inside than those cursory remarks.
The movie is about a freedom fighter in mahArAShTra. One of the last patrons of the generation that said "We've achieved the dream, children. Now cherish it." Last of the few good men.
A teacher. A storyteller. A creator. A worshipper of beauty, truth and love (all are synonymous, aren't they?).
The eyes and brains have by now got used to the torture in prisons that the inmates had/have to undergo. Practically every movie shows it, what's the big deal? Every time a gora sahib jailor or the kala sahib traitor is seen to torment the hero, I end up anticipating the extents of the physical injuries that the filmmakers would dare to show without getting the 'censor cut'. (does the board really exist or is it a myth, my compatriots?)
In sAne gurujI, all they showed was the prisoners made to grind grains on stone-mills. and one severe bashing by a lathi. but then there was a glimpse of guruji's mother..as his childhood memory. She singing for him while grinding the daily wheat. he giving her a helping hand.
Another glimpse. She beating him up for being a coward while taking swimming lessons. And now, he mutters, on the verge of falling down unconscious, " I wasn't afraid this time, mother!"

I could not stop the tears from welling up.

No, this wasn't the usual melodrama - child hurt, comes a righteous mother and the long monologues. It seemed real. No overacting. Just the right way.
Glorification of personality and actions is a curse on biographical movies. Avoided here, thankfully.
The element of pride and admiration about the hero does not seem exceptionable.
Just like in "Veer sAvarkar". aah well, that's a different movie, different story..and altogether different, glorious personality.
Coming back to sAne gurujI, it made me ponder over many issues.
How does one react when one sees for the first time in life, the clay feet of one's supreme idol?
Does an impulsive person always have to suffer? Or cause the people around him/her to suffer?
How can one take a public insult gallantly and still not seem spineless, but the opposite of it?
What am I ?
full stop.
Enough to say that though Sandeep KulkarNee, the lead role actor, has been my model for the imaginary 'husband material' since Shwaas - I did not for once delve into the "he's kinda cute" thoughtline this time.

The movie gave far from a complete picture of his life or his thoughts, neither did it convey a definite take-home message; but I think it did make an impact on the mind, in a mild manner. just as soft spray of a perfume would make on a cloth. unseen, but not unfelt.

Surprises

2006-02-08T16:45:00.000+05:30

I do so love them! (um..the pleasant ones. Sometimes the unpleasant ones too. The former make me feel loved, and the latter - 'wiser by experience' ;) )
The love for pleasant surprises must be genetically inherited.
It was plain from my mom's reaction that she was much more than delighted when I popped a merry face at her from behind a bouquet, at 11.15 in the night last saturday.

the 2-day trip to Pune was a fantabulous thing...i've got so many things to write about that I'll stop right here.

Evanescent

2006-02-02T12:03:00.000+05:30

Robert Frost goes in his 'A Passing Glimpse' :
Was something brushed across my mind
That no one on earth will ever find?
Heaven gives its glimpses only to those
Not in position to look too close.

Yes, it was something like that today. But could it be that those who are actually in a position to look too close do not care to? Or do not dare to? Hey, it shouldn't work that way. [As Archna ma'am goes: "No johnny/sonny/sweetie, it does not WORK that way."] Would empires have been erected, had the emperors been lackadaisical or cowardly after getting that dream pang about the empire, their empire?

Being fidel to the fiddle.

2006-01-29T12:52:00.000+05:30

Dance, dance my heart petite
To the tunes of the jolly guitar
Dance all your pleasures away
And send them a-whirling afar

How come you're smiling still
After bidding them "so long"?
Wait, do I see the fellas again -
They're bringing The bliss along!

Jigar Muradabadi

2006-01-22T21:39:00.000+05:30

i LOVE this shayar! Just look at this beauty:

ishq fana ka naam hai, ishq meiN zindagee na de
jalwa-e-aaftaab ban, zarre meiN roshni na de

shauq ko rehnuma bana jo ho chuka kabhi na de
aag dabi huyee nikaal aag bujhi huyee na de

tuJhko khuda ka waasta tu meri zindagee na de
jiski sehar bhee shaam ho uski siyaah shabi na de

And this sher from another ghazal:

uspe kare khuda rahem gardish-e-rozgaar meiN
apnee talaash choDkar jo hai talaasH-e-yaar meiN

Gladiolus

2006-01-22T21:14:00.000+05:30

Thinking of gladioli.
The flowers, like a dairy-milk chocolate, can never be too common/boring to give/receive.
Roses might overawe you. or create unwelcome impressions!
Carnations or jarbera might be a bit too heavy for the wallet.
Orchids..um, you don't see them around that frequently.
So here they are..the gladioli to the rescue. The long stems, the babyskin-soft petals, the fresh colours instantly create a comfort zone around them.
And the name 'gladiolus' makes you think of it as a very nice roman person, who's glad to be with you and vice versa.
quite simple-hearted flowers, actually. just like in the sher by Daag Dehlavi:
tum na paaoge sada-dil muJhsa
jo tagahful ko bhi hayaa jaane

"you won't find a heart
more simple than mine
who thinks you are shy
when refused to be seen"

(Why am I reminded of Mr. Collins in 'Pride and Prejudice' here? :)) )

silence

2006-01-18T22:50:00.000+05:30

She asks me how I were.
I just look at her -
and she knows the answer.
Could I really know how
the words fail us or
the glances pass us now?
should the confidences
the confessions
and the grievances
all be done away with now?
They were sweet
but they are past
I can now rely
only on a smile
a cheeky kiss
and silence awhile.

John Donne

2006-01-11T10:07:00.000+05:30

Puts it pretty neatly when it comes to describing broken hearts.
Before yesternight, 'twas just mirror neurons that made me appreciate the poem maybe.
now.. :D
(Mono'll laugh like anything when I relate the story to her.) zaalim jamana!
ROTFL BTTBS: here goes Jonny in his "The Broken Heart":

He is stark mad, whoever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it can ten in less space devour ;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
Who would not laugh at me, if I should say
I saw a flash of powder burn a day?

Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
If once into love's hands it come !
All other griefs allow a part
To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ;
They come to us, but us love draws ;
He swallows us and never chaws ;
By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ;
He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.

If 'twere not so, what did become
Of my heart when I first saw thee?
I brought a heart into the room,
But from the room I carried none with me.
If it had gone to thee, I know
Mine would have taught thine heart to show
More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
At one first blow did shiver it as glass.

Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite ;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no .

of leaps and false

2006-01-11T09:13:00.000+05:30

Heart just leapt upriver like salmons. Went to the happiest times I had spent reading the maraaThee translation "Dennis chyaa goShTee" of the superlatively fantastic "Adventures of Dennis" by Victor Dragunsky. A cousin of mine had been gifted that book for his 7th-8th birthday, I guess. Being four years older and much fonder of reading than he was, I thought I could claim a greater right over it. Ah the inexperienced childish notions ! The bright-yellow-covered, hardbound, over-an-inch thick book was to be Ashish's most prized possession -especially because he could see that I wanted it so badly!
(Or maybe because it had the most convenient size to be grabbed and brought down onto an elder sister's head with a most perfect thud.)

Of course the mere appearance of the book, the titles of the chapter and then the contents would have made it the most beloved book of one's collection.
There was this little boy on the front cover , wearing a helmet and a warrior-like suit and sitting on an especially good-tempered elephant which carried a bunch of colourful balloons in its trunk.
As to the contents, which I no doubt succeeded in going through after much fighting and attempts of bribery and appeal to both the supreme courts [where the judge of my nation had sympathies towards him and vice versa], here they are:

http://home.freeuk.com/russica2/books/den/book.html

and THAT'S why I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOO happy!
My benevolent friend Kiran gave me the link to the full online text with illustrations!!!!!
She's the kindest, the bestest, the cutest pal in the world. [You mentioned something about taking us all out for dinner tonight, didn't you, Kiran?]

hmm. so after each leap, a fall is assigned. [As a one-liner goes: Damn Gravity! I voted for velcro.]
False falls of young fowls are not to be termed as fouls, are they?
So just a tiny ode.
"farewell, shy angel - my heart was never a token.
'twas a silent fortune cookie - meant to be broken."

aflatoxin

2006-01-09T16:16:00.000+05:30

Aflatoxin - that's a secondary metabolic byproduct of two fungi species: Aspergillus flavus and aspergillus paraciticus. Got into news recently for mass food-poisoning of dogs in the USoA. belongs to a class of organic compound known as difuranocoumarins. damages liver. no antidote.

whoosh. sounds Ross-like "scientific jabbering". To think that there exist people who can make stuff like that interesting to read!

Anyway.The exercise was to test one's short-term memory. Actually there's been a great deal of research going on related to Alzheimer's disease currently. Reading all those things that could lead to a memory loss and finding that I 'fit into' them quite well, I did feel a strong need to check the memory status. (Especially because I've found my name-to-face-correlation ability, miniscule to begin with, has diminished to ground zero lately. Imagine not being able to recall the holy name of Johnny Depp! Lord, what is to become of us all!)

A few years ago, 'maharashtra times' featured a weekly column by a medical doctor, Dr. Ninad Parulekar. He sure had a great sense of humour - and could display it well. He once wrote about a fellow-MBBS student of his. This guy always ended up thinking that he's infected with all the diseases they were supposed to study for that particular semster - trying to convince the other students that he had ALL the symptoms thereof: mild headaches, running nose, joint-pains, mood fluctuations blah blah. Then came one term when the others heaved a sigh of relief. It was named 'gynecology and paediatrics.' :D

idoling away.

2006-01-04T21:46:00.000+05:30

Listened to Sandeep Khare's albums "naamanzoor" and "mee gaato ek gaaNe".
Got high on 2 songs.
One goes:
"kiteek haLawe kiteek sundar kitee shahaaNe apule antar.."

The distance between us !It's so fragile. so beautiful. so wise..
You breeze in at the very place for me, after I've left!

[Bhupesh Bhaiya says: "tum log achchhe ho yaar. yahan Marathi mandal iklauti regional council hai jo apni notices kaa angreji translation deti hai saath mein. otherwise kisi anjaanee si script mein kuch likha hua dekh kar bahut kharaab, left-out sa lagta hai!"]
Thus the feeble attempt of translating those oh so beautiful lines.

I totally totally idolize this Sandeep guy. Funny how at first I thought him to be one of those people who think that they can sing just because no one has dared to tell them otherwise. True, his rough baritone needs some rubbing in on one's system. Afterwards? you dearly wish he had sung ALL his poems! Especially because he makes those words act out - no no - LIVE their meanings! Untrained, raw, carefree..delicious singing!
And I won' even start on his poetic skills. There should be some limit to prattling on and on, even if it's your own blog :D - esp when idling away is forbidden. (pre-final year syndrome!)

more later!

I Want to Spend the Rest of My Life Everywhere, With Everyone, One to One, Always, Forever, Now. --Autobiography of British artist Damien Hirst. Some name, eh?

fresh

2006-01-01T14:47:00.000+05:30

new year. like it just as I used to like the smell of a new civics textbook ;) . a truly beautiful day. slight chill. bright sun! Good morningy feeling to the whole day. didn't know that cold could be cosy.
Had a bonfire at Archana ma'am's (2 apostrophes?) house yesternight. drywood fire is beautiful. simply lovable. especially the sparks those fly off if a slight breeze comes over, or you try to shake up the logs a bit. And yesterday one log rested on the top of the others in a leisurely manner. a bluish yellow wisp of a flame draped around it like a silk cloth.I couldn't take my eyes off it.The smoke smell's so intoxicating! perfumed my hands up for a while.
Wingies are cool. do not keep mentioning things like "this is the last xyz we're doing together."
saw LOTR-1 for 10 minutes and drooped off happily - as confidently predicted by self and others.

2005-12-31T19:58:00.000+05:30

A poem by Pablo Neruda. one of the "The poem"s!

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you,
and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel Ray,
stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who Dies,
the only one,
and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you,
Love, in fire and blood. (translator unknown)

hmm.
(could've been a sigh!)

People are. words appear. poems? They be, become, bemuse, belittle.

blogs..

2005-12-06T11:42:00.000+05:30

Is it a norm for bloggers to blog on blogging? The neophytes must be devoting some amount of their time to think about the philosophy of weblogging. That's why the blog names like "random thoughts.." , "musings of a loafing soul" etc etc, I guess.
Is it indeed a good idea to let people in general, and unknown people, in specific - to peep inside and take a good look at what's going on in your mind (and your life) at a particular time?
Maybe yes, maybe not. lemme find out ;)

with a salute to those who are able to write out their thoughts clearly and make them reach the reader , without sounding to be 'stating the obvious'.

why?

2005-12-05T04:43:00.001+05:30

it actually started when I read these lines by Sarah teasedale, and HAD to put them up somewhere. (even if I wasn't gonna give my blog address to more than a countable-on-fingers-of-a-hand # of people) :

"It is not a word spoken
Few words are said;
Nor even a look of the eyes,
Nor even a bend of the head

But only a hush of the heart
that has too much to keep
Only memories waking
That sleep so light a sleep."

wonder why do I even _write_?
read an essay of kanhaiyyalaal mishra 'prabhakar'. Says when he was an amatuer writer, he once tore up most of his poems and articles after reading this line:
'kamee nahin kadradaan ki akbar..
kare to koi kamaal paida!'

write something miraculous..then you won't find a dearth of accolades!

of course it's an anagram

2005-12-05T04:39:00.000+05:30

The blog title.
also the name in the link.

and Gaea was Mother-Goddess of greek gods. Equivalent to Aditi in Hindu mythology.

:)

2005-12-05T04:14:00.000+05:30

me1: let's check out what's happenning in Shweta's life.
me2: you need to go to her livejournal site for that? why not just call up and exchange updates?
me1: never did that unless the sim card was freshly replenished with enough green stuff. (actually not even then. Such "calling up bosom buddies" is done only when one's nearing the validity end of a recharge coupon and is pretty sure that the next coupon will outlast its validity period. (that's the biggest advantage of not having a boyfriend) - and having parents who insist that you give 'em just a 'missed call' and they'll call you back.
me2: yeah well oaaakkay. go and read it then.
me1: (heh heh.) so..she's getting fat, is she? blessings for your weight-loss ambition, shweps. count me in as one of those friends who'd NEVER call you f**.
me2: i'll have to admit that one gets to know so much more from blogs than from telephonic conversations.
me1: (grinning) told you so.
me2: and after careful analysis, I have found out the reason. A blogger writes the blog at the very moment he/she feels like doing it. It's got all the freshness of the feeling. the froth of the expresso. hey..do let's go ahead and set up our own blog..once again!
me1: raise a cup to the slackernys. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..on a blogging spree till indolence reigns.. once again.