Mind your language please!

POWER OF THE WORD

seeing darkness

it was late night.
a deafening thunder and a blinding lightening.
power went off and there is pitch darkness everywhere.
i screamed in joy.
"why??" some one asked from some where in the dark.
what a question??
why? because now i can see the pure darkness!
the darkest of the dark. only in that darkest of the dark, i can see the rain better.
pure darkness?? darkness will show the rain better.
yes. how can one see the darkness with lights? how can you search silence with talks?
you can only see the darkness with no-lights.
when you go with darkness, it will show itself to you.
what an ammazing black !
inetially it is all pitch dark.
hold on for a while, give her time to dress up, and then mysteriously she emerges - revealing one by one her different shades of black.
first you see the vast sky in dark grey.
then, against this vast gray, graphically dotted by the lines of rain, are the huge black shapes of trees, moving wildly like possessed devils with flowing hair.
and then you will see the dead lamp posts standing like children frozen with fear.
focus your gaze further and you will see the main gate of your house closer to you in middle gray .
then slowly emerge the walls of your parapet and the handrails of stairs in light gray.
finally the wall closest to will appear in thee lightest gray.
the depths of darkness they produce together is unequal to anything you have ever seen.
the rhythmic sound of the rain falling through the leaves of the coconut tree on to my roof top provide such a musical accompanyment which beats thousand tanpuras.

and suddenly.....
there is electrifying lightening.
in that fraction of a second, the whole scene at once transforms as if lit by thousand suns, a totally different magical experience!!
your senses are ignited.
the heart pounding thunder follows.
you will be hit by the hair raising chill and the fresh aroma of the earth, just like a beautiful young woman rushing naked out of the bath room.
now i know why earth is always termed as woman , not man.
it is an unforgettable multisensory experience!!
lights would have been such an intrusion in this romance.
and you ask me 'why'?
........ a thud.
i jump, startled.
two sparks of eyes. and a black mass. the cat!!
huh!
i close my eyes and immeddiately i become attuned, like the radio tuner, to distant sounds far away- the clanking in the kitchen, the dog bark on the street and the drowning of the traffic far away.
(to be continued by you.....)

Sparsh

saw sparsh. after long time.
yes. sparsh speaks.
Sparsh speaks more eloquently than words.
i know sai paranjapey as colleague board member at NID.
she would be delighted to know that a new age youth is sensitive to the subtleties of her old forgotten sparsh.
Not everybody likes sparsh. I do.
Last night I was watching ‘nottinghill’ and interestingly, I find lot of similarities to ‘sparsh’at a very deeper level. only the contexts differ. The stories are different but the concerns are the same.

Ironical it may seem, but to me, sparsh is not about the physical touch.
It is not about widow..
it is not about blindness either.
I think, sparsh is about fear.
the fear of entering into a relationship.
the fear of love.
The fear of belonging.
the fear of loosing ones individuality in life. And most importantly,
the fear of loosing ones self- dignity, which is more than life.

the best thing about the film is the way that fear is shown.

i feel that the film has an overall delicacy which only a woman can make me feel. a woman director only can make such film.
look at the way the development of feeling for each other (shabana and shah) is shown: over amjad ali khan's wonderful sarod notes,(the right sound for love);
and the quiet way she expresses her love to him.
remember the scene where shah accidentally touches her dead husbands photo and realises her marital situation. it is depicted so sightlessly, so soundlessly and so briefly, all in a fraction of a second.
that is really cinematic brilliance.

another scene which is worth remembering is this. when shah bursts with anger, shabana does not ask him to cool down. she gently and soothingly comments that how much pain he must be holding inside him. When some one close to me gets angry, that is what exactly I feel.
the film is about love. but the love is shown through not only the main characters but also through the other minor characters too.
the children of the school love shabana too and one of the boys offers his thumb to her. its a very touching moment personally to me because it really happened with a student of mine (except that she is a girl of 26). receiving love is an art and unfortunately most of us are incapable of it.
the little boy paplu almost died because shabana did not bother for his love towards her. her insensitivity hurt him so badly.
there is no greater pain than rejected love. i know people who have died because of such insensitivity.
the duel fight between the two boys to win shabanas love is no way lesser than the classic duels where two suiters fight a duel till death. the most meaningful touch is paplu fighting with closed eyes because his opponent is blind.that is fairness. that is the law in classic duel. and he does it without being told by any one.what heroism in such a little kid!it puts the grown-ups to shame.

the best thing about sparsh is that though it is dealing with such an emotional subject as love, yet it does not make it soapy, sentimental chewing gum. there is maturity in the love shown in the film.
“sacrifice, seva, ‘mein kuch bhi karunga thumhare liye’ “ is all childish rubbish. there should be individuality and equal respect to each other. a true relationship is really ‘give and take’, and not the slave and master relationship. how many people understand this ? for the most Indian men, it is undigestable.

in one scene when shah heatedly proclaims that he can do anything entirely by himself and does not need anybody, shabana jokingly tells him " no, you cannot tie your neck tie" the scene is shown in a light vain but it has serious implications. to me it conveys that ‘ you may be capable of doing many things but its always a form of great security and pleasure that somebody else does it for you, without necessarily making you dependent on her/him.

The last scene tells it all, with the dialogue-“tum sach muuch andhey ho..” true. most of us are blind about others love. It is our incapacity, our disability, our terrible fear to reach and touch the other. The man needed that verbal slap to come to his senses. In ‘nottinghill’ it happens another way.
the film is most emphatic about one thing " kisi ko kami ko bar bar yad math dilao". pitying itself is bad, it pains like a wound. Mocking,which we sometimes do insensitively, is pouring chilli powder and salt on it.

i wish more people will see sparsh and get what it says in their head as well as in their heart.

why should you not be angry, sir?

preface: philosopher j.krishnamurti was once asked by a gentleman, "sir, i often get very angry with my wife.please tell me how can i stop getting angry?"
krishnamurti thundered back. "tell me, why should you not get angry ,sir?"

********************************************************
a parable :
......................................................

two young people met on a wonderful morning in a great
city.

she was exquisitely beautiful, fair, with large bright
eyes, long flowing hair, a mellifluous voice and an
unmatched grace and charm.

he was amazingly healthy, slim, with a handsome face,
broad forehead, a well read mind and an unmatched
maturity and manner.

roses have thorns.
mangoes have seeds.
peacocks cant fly.
mona lisa's smile is sickly.
there is no perfection in gods creation,they say.
she had canine teeth.
he had white hair.

the young couples meeting soon developed into a sweet
relationship and they decided to get married.

there was a yogi meditating in an ashram on the
outskirts of the city on a hill. the yogi was crazy. but
the young couple had great reverence for the yogi and
therefore sought his permission and blessings for
their marriage.
they both visited the yogi..

the yogi, on knowing their wish, asked them to meet
him individually and answer one question put by him.

"what do you think of his white hair?" he asked the
girl.
"that is no problem sir, he had agreed to dye it
black, -for me." she said assuredly.
"what do you think of her canine teeth?" he asked the
boy.
"that is no problem sir, she had agreed to remove them
surgically,-for me." he said confidently.

the yogi then addressed them both.
"go away you imbeciles! how dare you think of a
marriage which ought to be enduring and blissful bond.
you are not even true friends yet. i will hit you if
you waste any more of my time."
he raised his hand and threw his stick angrily at
them.

frightened and disappointed, the young couple went
away.

nevertheless, after about an year, they visited the
yogi again.
the yogi put the same questions individually.

"his white hair does not bother me sir. i accept him
as he is. he need not dye his hair." the girl replied
sincerely.
"her canine teeth does not bother me sir. i accept her
as she is. she need not remove her teeth." the boy
replied truthfully.

the yogi then addressed them both.
"go away you fools! marriage is not a magic wand but
an enduring and blissful bond. you are nothing more
than mere friends now. that is not enough. i will hit
you if you waste any more of my time."
he raised his hand and threw his stick angrily at
them.

frightened and disappointed, the young couple went
away.

nevertheless, after about an year, they visited the
yogi again.
the yogi put the same questions individually.

"i adore his silvery white hair sir. it makes his face
so unique ,giving the look of a wise man with a halo.
his best feature is his white hair." the girl said
with a sparkle in her eyes.
"i adore her canine teeth sir. they make her smile so
unique, giving the look of nature's bounty. her best
feature is her canine teeth." the boy said with a
shine in his face.

the yogi then addressed them both.
"come my children. you are now really and truly in
love with each other. your marriage will be blissful
and enduring. i shall bless you with all my spiritual
power and conduct your wedding personally."
he raised his hand. immediately the young girl ducked
and the young boy stepped back.

the unique beauty of rose is its thorns.
the unique beauty of mango is its seed.
the unique beauty of peacock is its non-flying.
the unique beauty of mona lisa is her sickly smile.
what is wrongly called as imperfection is in fact the
beauty spot of gods creation.
a black rose is not an odd rose but a unique rose, a dried leaf is not an ugly leaf but a unique beauty of colour and texture, a wrinkle is simply as beautiful as the dimple, only if we take off our coloured glasses and see.

the yogi raised his hand and said "dont be afraid. i am
not throwing my stick at you this time. i am only
blessing."
"sir, please scold us in your usual feigned anger to
shake us out of our wits. we consider that your scolding is our true
blessing." the young couple said in joyful unison.
and added with a twinkle in their eyes, "the best thing about you sir, is your anger."
the yogi laughed divinely.
a hundred rainbows chimed sweetly in the hearts of everybody in the valley.
*********************************************************************************

post-face:real love is not merely accepting but admiring even those aspects which appear negative to others. besides, there is as much beauty in the dried old leaves as in the fresh young leaves, as much beauty in the pinched assymetric pot as in the smooth symmetric pot,if only we remove our coloured glasses.

Frozen Time

those who feel with me that there is silent music will readily agree that photography is nothing but a moment frozen in time. besides, a photograph is not just what you see with eyes. you actually see with your mind and heart. you bring all your experience evoked by that image. therefore, two people, you and me, perceive two different images and experiences from the same image.
i see the photographer behind every photograph like i hear the author speaking to me through the pages when i read a book.
i have chosen these two visuals not only to share with you my aesthetic pleasure but also to challenge you to find out what they are. the art of provocation is my way of dialogue.

Sustainability

" MOST PEOPLE RUNAWAY FROM YOU BECAUSE DEEP DOWN THEY WANT TO BE CHASED.
MOST PEOPLE BLAME YOU BECAUSE DEEP DOWN THEY KNOW THEY ARE WRONG."



a while ago , one of my graduates sent a blog where he lamented about sustainability, alarming ecological degradation and what kind of foot prints we are leaving for our future generations.
i normally a silent listener but this time i felt like telling him some thing. he was dear student of mine. here is what i said.
i invite comments:

keep the search on , mohan.

there are no easy answers. a lot is written about it though.
the good thing is that some of us are thinking about such issues.
thinking only leads to action. to proper action. a lot of worlds ills are due to action without thinking. [no, i am not trying to promote my 'thinking design ' book]

one cannot change the world overnight but one can change the world by starting the change with one self. let the action begin whatever small way in whatever way we live, the way we conduct our profession and so on.
you will not be recognized, your name will not appear on the times cover page and you might even be laughed at, but you did change the world and left little foot prints which only you know they were there.
is that not enough?

good luck

CREPUSPULO/ SAAYAMSANDHYA /TWILIGHT

precisely a fortnight before my last birthday, the person who gave me that birth day, lay dying in my own arms.
in that roaring silence, both our hearts were heavy as we perfectly understood what is happening and communicated the uncommunicable.
sitting next to her, watcing the evening light turning into a shadow, literally and metaphorically, my thoughts were neither of the sweet memories of her love
wetting my eyes nor bitter memories of regret burning my soul.

my thoughts lingered gingerly on the delicate web of natures' first and foremost relation ; the mother-child relation.

on that frozen moment of time, i was just a child, she was just a mother. nothing else existed.
the moment was exactly the same as when i was born.
when the sun rises and when the sun sets , arent' the moments almost the same?
and it is the same truth for every one.
no matter how big a child becomes, a king or a rogue, a queen or a queer , he/she is loved as dearly and always remains as "mother of X"
conversly, whether i am born to an empress in a palace or a slut in a slum, she will remain my mother, i love her, i inherit her genes, grow under her, share her
reputation , good or evil and always remain as "son of X".
there is no escape. it is my fate.
i can change my friends easily, job easily ,even my name easily but how can i change my mother? like how can i change my date of birth?
i can adopt a child but i cannot adopt an own-mother [kanna thalli].
i cannot escape from my mothers reputation and she from mine. it is unblical. even the great adi shankaraacharya who was detatched from all worldly connections had to come to his mother at the time of her death.

i never stayed long with my mother.i was constantly away from her - for studies, for work etc.
but we both deeply felt that we were more attached to each other than other siblings and relations. love does not depend on the length of time spent together.
with some people you may spend a life time yet no love, with some others you may spend a shortwhile yet love enough to last a lifetime.
in paulo coehlo's book BRIDA, a married woman meets a wise stranger at a temple and spends only an afternoon with him talking. yet that moment touches her life.she reveres him and considers him as her real husband a life-partner.

i never obeyed my mother.
submission is not love. submission is the worst form of cowardice on the part of person who submits, and it is worst form of ugly exploitation on the part of the
person who demands.
mother never demanded it from me too.
she is illiterate, 'thumb chaap wali' but how highly educated! how many PhD mothers have such gyan?
she was a widow since i learnt 'a, aa , e. ee... but till her death i never found her cow down before anybody, however big. how could she expect that from me,
her first child?
i went against her wishes frequently.
i flew abroad, took no dowry, married out of caste, stayed out of culture, studied and taught some thing which she or anyone else never understood.
i deeply respected her concern for my future, born out of her love. she respected my taking decision for myself even if it is against her will. she only puts her points strongly but will not insist i follow. thus she makes me more responsible for my actions.
everytime i went against her will, i will spend hours persuading her.
she trusted and let me.
to love is natural and easy. to trust is very tough.
perhaps my not having a father from childhood necessiated me to take decisions from my childhood and the results increased her confidence in me.
in the end, swallowing her pride she says "if balaram feels strongly that way, it must be fine." this sentence is good enough for me to give goose-pimples
and make damn sure i dont disappoint her.

i 'belonged to her' and she to me.
i am 'her' son.
if that kind of thing is called possession, i like to be possessed , tenderly.
hug me but never crush me, stroke me but never choke me, order me for you have a right over me, but let me do what i , after great consideration, not in hot impulse nor with stubborn ego, decide to do against your will, out of love for me.
this unsaid quote was understood by both of us.

no mother wants her childs tears. nor any child wants to give pain to the one who bore all pain to give life and nurture.
[.........to be continued]