Today - 2.4.2013

It's that time
When the heart of the Earth,
Cries of a heat intense.

The time when the sun,
Proud and conceited in its passionate rage,
Lights the world,
Fries the world,
Consumes the world.

The Earth, unwilling to take the torment anymore,
Heats up the lands,
clams up its waters,
and
Burns with an ache in its loins.

The trees frown,
In tempered fury,
Staring aghast,
At their wrinkling roots,
Scathing and shrivelling ground.

People tired,
Wiping pools of sweat off their brow,
Screening the ever mighty beacon,
Baking in the soaring degrees of torture.

Animals running helter skelter,
Some lost in the lust for water,
and some in the deep slumber of an aestivative siesta for a long, long afternoon.

The lakes cry their tears dry.
The air, languid and thick,
Impregnated with the load of moisture,
All unite in meditative prayer.

''Spare me the burden of this heat, oh Lord,''
''Give my roots the strength to bear thy wrath,''
''Promise to rejuvenate me again,''
''Oh what a nuisance what, a pain,''
chant the breeze, the forests, the oceans and man.

The tension builds up,
Children of nature losing hope in their mother.
Scorching in hell,
Scarred and charred,
We give up.

The sun shines brightly,
but the world seems dark in despair.

Moved by the suffering, God hears us, feels us, answers us.

The reign of the sun, totters, with
The softness of rain overcoming the harshness of its foe.

It is that time when the clouds swell their tears,
Smile with gentle kindness,
And cry out their whitest, thickest, lushest pall.

And so the wise sage observes the pain of anger dissolving in the relief of Heaven's tears,
to narrate the story of the day
Water defeated fire,
Once again.

For The Love of The Antique

Because people do not leave any space before beginning a new paragraph anymore,
I see no demarcation for an introduction and a periodic newness dying into structured lines of monotony.

Because people demolish their bungalows for apartments, and cities do not house homes anymore,
I see gardens decaying and indoor plants instead, fresh in decoration.

Because people go out for a good check-in and not necessarily for a good time anymore,

I see superficial ostentation cutting deep into meaningful pleasure.

Because people would rather watch movie adaptations instead of ''wasting'' their time reading anymore,
I see the victory of time over quality.

Because people would rather cheat and make it big, they believe integrity does not work anymore.
I see noble principle slain, bleeding in the evil hands of greed and power.

Because people have changed, but there are people who think they have changed enough..
And I see us, because we are those who do not want to complicate our lives anymore.

P.S :

Notice how a person who talks about leaving space before starting a paragraph, that is a grammar freak like myself, is careless enough to begin every line of her poem with the word because.
That, is what you call a grammar freak with a poetic licence.
Lol, this post-script is to bring in a dash of that much-needed comic relief to this serious sounding post. And also probably an anticlimax :D

So basically laugh a lot, have a good day and never, ever forget the classics ;)

Character

The priest preached honesty through morality and taught that it is important to not lie to others. The philosopher taught that utmost, it is important to be true to one's own self. The wise disciple did not remain confused between the two, but understood that both truths, when imbibed as one helped him grow as a better person. Philosophy taught him wisdom, principle taught him integrity. He chose to remain true to himself for personal enrichment. He also chose honesty with others, especially his dear ones, not for any reasons of ritualistic morality, but because when he said he loved them, he gave them a commitment and believed they have a right to know. They should know.

Her Weakness

She Is Not Strong. She Gets Spooked Easily And Is Afraid Of Almost Everything Unusual.
She Is Not Strong. She Cries For The Smallest Of Things That Prick Her.She Gets Hurt Easily.
She Is Not Strong. She Has A Heart That Melts Easily And Lets The Words Of Its Language Flow Into Forgiveness.
She Is Not Strong. She Is Scared Of People, Of Being Accepted,Yet She Knows She Must Express Herself And Not Let Her Individuality Dissolve In Conformation.
She Is Not Strong. She Values Her Friends And Ends Up Allowing Them A ''Second'' Chance Over And Over Again.
She Is Not Strong. She Believes That Truth Can Be Bitter And She'd Rather Not Say Anything Than Say Something Hurtful.
She Is Not Strong. She Finds It Difficult To Resist Herself Whenever She Feels A Need To Speak From The Heart.
She Is Not Strong. People Are More Important To Her Than Her Ego.
She Is Not Strong. She Cannot Open Up To Others Easily, Out Of Fear That They Might Use It Against Her.
She Is Not Strong. She Gives Precedence To The Emotions Of The Heart Over The Rationalities Of The Mind.
She Is Not Strong. She May Compromise Only To Avoid A Fight, To Escape An Argument.
She Is Not Strong. She Is Not Stringent About The Rules She Lives Life By;She May Bend Them Depending On The Situation.
She Is Not Strong. In Relationships She Can Get Insecure But She Loves To A Fault And No One Loves Like Her.
She Is Not Strong. She Cries,She Accepts,She Embraces,She Forgives.
She Is Kind,She Is Discreet,She Is Sensitive.
She Compromises, She Accommodates,She Listens,She Heals.
She Loves.
Her Weakness Is Actually Her Strength Masked.
She Is Strong. She Is A Woman.

Walks of Life.

 Revisiting old lanes,strolling through avenues bygone,raking the fallen leaves of memory strewn on the parched ground, dead from years of wait, of thirst. A ground which once mothered the many happy trees, then fruitful of love,of joy...
The same land now lies dry and beaten,with the fallen dry leaves from the same green trees.

 I walk on with a heavy heart, till the sun of the next day pushes the dark clouds of gloom away and till the dawn of realisation sprays its soft light on me. Light, in which I see the experience of yesterday teaching me to enjoy life in its moments and to reminisce of past travels, not with nostalgia, but with the maturity to use them as a reference for future journeys. 

  

The Colour of Patriotism

  Mix the fervour of red and the brilliance of yellow, get saffron. With a dash of the Ganga blue and the mustard of our dharti, we get green. However, primarily, white remains unadulterated in its purity-with the chakra in its centre-a wheel rotated as one by the twenty-four spokes of each state, in the background of white peace.

 Futile quarrels and uprisings that believe in division and bring discord to this harmony are truly blasphemous to the national flag and to the nation. Jai Hind.

Happy Independence day!

The Tricolour!

Enquiry

 When you think of the 20th century,you see how distinct each decade was.With the drama of the 60's,the flamboyance of the 70's,the funk of the 80's,the coolness of the 90's,we notice each decade had a style of its own.Will the 21st century ever be able to revive the past glory of music and fashion or continue to be just the way it's been since the millennium?

  The reason for this monotony could be the boom of technology and ...well,technology.It is like a white sheet of concrete spanning the entire century!What's more appalling is to realise how indispensable it has now become for us.Even as the youth,we can clearly regret the world drifting from the wholesomeness of nature to the superficialities of excessive technology.What was once meant to aid human beings,has now made robots of them.What a pity it is to see how mechanical the world has become.It is sad to know what was originally meant to simplify lives,has actually made them complex.

Principle.

Never,ever compromise.If you have no choice,rebel.Try to change that which causes you to bend.Or try and understand if you can.Not with cynicism,but with a willingness to embrace your difficulties. But never ever give up on yourself.Trust me,you owe it to you.

The Pendulum.

  While at the Moazamjahi market today, three varied sights caught my eye. At the two extremes were the birds-free in their flight, alighting on the land and flying as they wished and just inside the arch, the vendor's cat, tied to a pole by its master; with eyes shifting focus from me, beckoning to me to unleash it; to the flying pigeons, with deep longing to exchange lives with them.
 
  Amidst them I stood as the human being-Chained by limitations, but liberated by my freedom of choice to go beyond them.

                                                                     

In Reaction...

 Women have been forced to think they're the weaker sex. Some of us become rebellious and try to prove to the world we are as good as our counterparts by being more like them.We do not need to show the world we're as good as men. By doing so, we are using men as a yardstick to quantify our greatness. Men are men.Women are women.We do not need to reach your stature to prove our equality. It is no race to ''reach'' the ''finish line'' called men. As far as we are concerned, there is no cul de sac!
                        
                                                                     

The Three Elements of Nature...

 Look at the faint beam of sunlight effortlessly streaming its way through the denseness of the clouds and the foliage, to softly alight on the rippled, but serene water, leaving it just as undisturbed as it was before their sacred rendezvous, even though they meet everyday-A contrast to humanly romance, which tends to die with time, the beauty of nature is enhanced in growth and time.

                                                                          

Have you not thought so?

When you look at me,you may see prim and proper; polite and socially acceptable; reserved and quiet; serious and philosophical; premeditated; practised; rehearsed! But I'm not any of that.I  am just another person in the world, waiting to be accepted by them..No, by herself .

                                  
  P.S- Dance into delirium. Lose yourself into oblivion! Free yourself of all your inhibitions. It's only your opinion of yourself that matters. Learn to love yourself! And do not write this off as preachy nonsense. I do make sense at times. :-)                                                          
                                                                         

The Mergence

 No poet intends to write according to the iambic pentameter,or the trochee ,or the anapaest.It's magical to note how things written from the heart and hence meant to be abstract,unintentionally find discipline in the intellect of the mind.

                                                               -By Sofiya Sujad
                                                                                           Art by Markin Andrey

Nostalgia

...there's something quaintly romantic about writing in pencil on the dried,yellowed petals of wrinkled paper.Possibly another remindful refresher to us of the beauty resting in the hue of charcoal,lamented by the scent of yore and the frailty of the parch(ed)ment ,in a world of the stern black print on the cold white screen..

                                                    

And things are not what they seem....

In an attempt at protecting ourselves from the world,most of us become introverted. Some of us,however, choose to don a different identity-these are some of our ostensible extroverts who are so protective of themselves;they don't even want to disclose they're hiding under a shell..

          
                                                                                                   
                                                              

Spontaneity ....

......is the essence of our being.

We are different people in different moments.However,the qualities we retain ,which in turn determine our 'nature' are those we have prided ourselves on and have clung on to all this while.That,in no way, changes the fact,that we are different people in different moments.

 

The artist calls it 'The Dance of Change'.

                                                                                                 -By Sofiya Sujad
                                                                               Art by Jimmy Quek Prabhakara

Solace

 Love you see,is never more for a person,or less for another.Love is no figure;no number that can be measured in words of degree.Love is just there.Or it isn't.And when it is,it is equal for all it's given to.To say,''I love someone more,'' or ''I love someone less,''is ridiculous. What is less,and what is more,let me tell you,is the degree of attachment we have for a certain person.And yes,I guess that can be measured and quite often be mistaken for the depth of one's love.

Solace.

 

                                                                                           

Unity In Duality..

 Eternity and evanescence have a very deep bond.Not that of duality,but of unity.They seem to be diverse,but are in essence one.Take the sunset for instance.Ostensibly,the sunset is ephemeral-It seems that the sun dies ,to give birth to darkness.But we fail to see that the sun dies every evening,only to be born again the next morning.The sun sets only so that the sun rises.The most beautiful things in life,appear evanescent,but are eternal.The most beautiful things cover their eternity behind a shroud of evanescence,only so that their beauty is all the more exalted while it's missed.
                                                  

Literary

 An Essay To Compare Porphyria's Lover With The Duke of Ferrara

 Even though Porphyria's lover,Porphyria's murderer and the Duke of Ferrara,husband of his latest Duchess may be unified in character through the commonality of unhealthy obsession,a love not love but mere possession,we do not fail to notice the not-so-glaring,subtle differences that make these two men distinct.


 The speaker from 'My Last Duchess' talks of his former wife with a cold,'almost' indifferent temperament(except from the deep-seated sense of ownership he has of her) and a sort of apathy for his (mis)construed fondness that his wife has for 'who-we-know-as-Fra-Pandolf'.Although he lists all the things about her that upset him,we get the impression that he's merely,very technically telling us about his disappointment in her-not deeply expressing it.His tone smacks of arrogance and coldness but is not charged with the emotion of the jealousy we expect to arise from that deep-rooted sense of possessiveness.We get to know him as a tyrant who expects his wife to be his slave ,to obey his commands at any order and give him all the attention she can and if she cannot do so,she should be ready to pay a price.The Duke,is portrayed as a
pragmatist-he expects something of his beloved;he wants her to live up to his expectations;if she cannot,she must suffer.He is very technical in approach.He is unfeeling.


 On the other hand,the lover of Porphyria is an intensely psychotic,cold-blooded,murderer.However,one cannot say that he is emotionless.He is,most definitely a person given by emotions.Correction there,given by emotion-a deepseated obsession.He is mad.He is deranged.But he has depth.The tone of the speaker in the poem 'The Lover of Porphyria' does
not sound apathetic at any point.He sounds obscenely passionate.He is driven by emotion-of love,or hate-that is debatable.This quality of his,this intensity,this passion,is the reason he differs from the Duke.


 Also,one could argue that the Duke,morally speaking,is slightly holier than Porphyria's lover for we do not know exactly what he does to the Duchess.However,we know for a fact,that Porphyria's lover murders her.


 Besides that,if one were to support the Duke,they could say that the Duke had a strong reason to punish his wife(however wrong the deed might be) -the jealousy, she'd given him ample reason
for or atleast he thought so.However,Porphyria's lover knew for a fact that he had all her love and even herself to him.The murder he so very enjoyably describes makes him sound like a sadistic butcher who has little reason to commit the sin.


 Fundamentally put,though the Duchess' husband and Porphyria's lover are united by intention ,they differ in their approach because of their nature.One is a cold-hearted tyrant of a husband,one is a cold-blooded murderer of a lover. 

                                                                 -By Sofiya Sujad

Serendipity

 When I look back, I realise that I've never intentionally searched for the things I cherish most. I've only seeked. Sure, there is a certain mystique about such serendipitous finds.