Mad Heart

Mad Heart,
flutters wild,
anguish riled,
& beats in hope
as it gropes
thru' unjust ages;
evil rages
and wipes out
a righteous shout
"This is not fate -
 just an unjust State"
that pelts rain
of misery and pain
and kills spirits
fine; limits
our imagination
with sedition!
But, we are born free,
and cannot just flee
persecution or wrong;
but bellow our song,
of destiny to dream
for a light beam
to pierce this dark,
expose evil stark
to ease this wild,
mad heart.

-------------


I must not care?
Learn to not care?
about love, loss,
and a slipping time,
of dreams, hopes
of youth - once mine?
Why live
to anesthetize
our pains,
giving up joys too
in bargain?
Give me wings,
a voice to sing,
a tearful lament
or a wild trill
I am, and -
I live still.

Poison

Dear Editor,

It has been my privilege to serve 'The Hindu' over the last two decades. I thank you for your active encouragement and support during this period. I am enclosing a brief piece from my posting in this area. This will be my last contribution - my swan song. I request you to carry this very personal piece, as is, and hope the credibility of my authorship, and facts which will eventually come to light, will make this story believable.

----------------

Deadly Development

It is poll time again here. As expected, the state is gearing up for this next election on promises of continued large scale development with high fiscal growth. To reinforce their pro-people position, the state has just completed a new highway joining the capital to Korba and across the state to Ranchi - through the densely forested, wildest and most remote tribal regions of the state. Today the CM inaugurated a new bus route on this highway; I was privileged, as a Hindu reporter, to participate in this inaugural journey. Surprisingly, there appeared to be few people, wanting to make this maiden run. Last night, in a Raipur bar, I heard rumors of poison-people, of their strange rituals, customs. The local drivers were reluctant to drive this route and finally a driver from Chennai had been found for the inaugural journey.

Today, all went smoothly, with a lot of fanfare, press and television coverage. I sat on a front seat, by the window, with a full view through the windshield. The driver and I exchanged a few pleasantries in tamil, with the genuine happiness of finding a kindred spirit in a distant land. The bus was hardly half full - being made up of very few locals - mainly low rank officers who had been forced to take the ride by their superiors. The ride towards and after Korba was through the thickest jungles I have ever seen - and this gladdened the heart.  The road was dark and a narrow ribbon of sky accompanied the bus on its empty journey ahead. It was then that I saw two small figures in a distance, standing by the side of the road; apparently, so did the locals - who had been acting very twitchy and nervous - some were even praying. There was an immediate clamor to not stop the bus - the driver seemed uncertain and hesitated. It was at this point that I interfered. Putting full authority of my experience and position, I commanded the driver to stop, for what was now clearly two young children waiting at the road.

The two children got on and smiled in glee; there is no other word to describe the innocence and the happiness of their smile.  They looked like brother and sister, in tattered rags, and between 10-12 years of age. I smiled back and pointed to the empty seats across from me, for them to sit. They clambered on their seats with excitement of ones who had never seen any machine. The driver asked them where they were going, but got no response, except their smiles. It was very likely that they did not speak hindi. It was then that I noticed their small knotted bundle, probably their food and belongings.

Soon everyone settled down and there were sheepish exchanges between the locals, for their unfounded fears. A couple even ventured tentatively to volunteer that I had done the right thing by asking the bus stop for these two young ones.  It was about an hour later that the two started chattering amongst themselves with suppressed excitement and cheeky laughter. They opened their bundle and I was startled to see the contents writhing inside - there appeared to be about 10-12 snakes wriggling and darting their forked tongues - clearly in agitation at being bound up so long. I immediately asked the children to tie them back, but they just looked at me and laughed and set them all free.

It took a while for the passengers to catch on what had happened, and by that time it was too late for them, or me, or the driver. It is too late now. The weaker ones have already fainted - their pulse, feeble.  One passenger has recognised the snakes as the rarest, and deadliest in the nation.  It is futile now to fight the inevitable. There is no mobile connection here - and I am frantically typing the story on my laptop, even as I feel a searing through my blood, and a suffocating dullness begin to wipe away my brain and breath. The bus has come to a halt; in haziness and from corner of my eye I watch the children slowly pick up their pets and carefully lower them back into their jola, and tie them in. They have now got off the bus - laughing - peals of young laughter.

To Be or Not To Be : Content

I sit in this room, alone and reflect away my idle hours, still wondering, despite the lateness of my years, what is the right way for me to lead my life.  I am torn between the same choices as Hamlet when he broods:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

I am tempted between seeking grace of a do-nothing-contentment, versus throw myself into a battlefield of life, and fight - any of its many wrongs. Do I sit in awareness and acceptance of what is, or fight to create what must be, for me, my community, entire world, guided by my own inner compass of what is right and just. Is it really nobler to seek comfort in my insignificance,  futility of a mere individual strife, to find solace in the profound Zen wisdom " I seek only contentment", from the famous Tsukubai at the Ryonji temple, in Kyoto. 

Ideally, and this is usual for me, I would prefer to have it both - to fight, but in grace and awareness, acknowledging the illusionary nature of my quest, my be-ing, this life. I would like to fight, but 

only in the spirit of "karmanye vadhikaraste..", and with a smile inside, in awareness of the fight, and the worlds inside and outside - the dance of the swallows, the falling leaves, and the ephemeral clouds and this transient moment in which 'I' exists. I would like all my parallel journeys to be simultaneously lived - with awareness of them all.

Autumn in a Bottle, and other tidbits from Metz

I. Yesterday I went gathering autumn. I picked it up, color dripping leaf by leaf, and brought back a bouquet, which I stuffed in a bottle...

...and a  Vase.

Now I sit and stare and wonder at the autumn, in my room, and me.

II. Metz is Stained in Glass: and I wonder why? I wander within this stained light and watch it color me blue, purple, yellow, orange, red and green...and many other shades in between. Is it to illuminate the heart? and bear it ? this blue heart, this red throbbing heart, this soaring yellow heart, a sinking violet heart? to learn that hearts can be stained and it is better this way?

 

III. I go swimming regularly. Swimming happens here in a very disciplined manner with strict rules that guide people swimming in loops within lanes meant for lap swimmers. Every now and then, someone breaks the rules, overtakes, splashes, and plays...and people pause in wonder.

Yesterday I found to my delight that there were three sumo wrestlers in the same narrow lane as me. They were as sombre and majestic in water as when they are on ground. They swam in full control and practiced style and grace. However each time one crossed me, there was an enormous wave, a surge, that hit my face, and I drank gallons of swimming pool water, even as I watched a massive whale glide away next to me.  I watched in amazement and awe. Yesterday I drank a lot of swimming pool water.

IV. I have wasted substantial portions of my last many days trying to figure out travel plans within the country - to the mountains, to the sea shores, to all places wonderous and beautiful. Such planning is challenging here - where communication is little with the french speaking nation. Also, people are not in need for business and hang up on an english speaker, do not respond to email queries etc.; train timetables are horrendous, and non-Paris connectivity poor. Finally I have given up. I have realised that if I were not constantly trying to have a better life, I could actually have a really good life.

V. What is it about Ambers - of tree saps from aeons ago, of the solidified, and transparent molten golds  ,that fascinates us so? Just the beauty? Or is it the perished prehistoric bugs and insects it once embedded inside? Or the imaginary trees whose sap once flowed so freely and golden? I bought some Amber jewelry and hold it to the light, peer within its mottled inside to wean out its secrets, from times when dinosaurs roamed a swampy land, dragons roared fire, fish were learning to fly and earth was still a fantasy land. I wear on my ear to hear its whispered secrets, dangle it close to my heart and wear it on my finger to remind me that fantasy once existed - and maybe it still does.

18"x30"

We live in a tiny apartment in Metz, which has an arboretum, an art studio, nursery and kitchen garden - all on 18"x30".  I now have all I need.

Autumn Begins

Can death be this flamboyant?
Can a finale, this bold?
Does age not pale,
and wither the old?

With brazen audacity
they face winter's cold,
rubies sparkle on garnet vines
ambers fleck with gold.

I smile at such promise,
for fruition of life's manifold;
it is not yet my time, to glimpse
truth or eternity behold.