Do we need a 'training' on Morality and Humanity?

I just watched To Sir, with Love and the first thing to come in my mind was, "Why didn't I watch it all these years?"
Being a teacher myself, it was quite an enriching journey to watch Sidney Poitier win over the hearts of a bunch of hoodlums. The movie reminded me of my English teacher, more popular as Sir. When the scaly arms of this world wrap me up, it's his words that keep me sane. It's his wisdom, his guidance, his teachings that help me keep my chin up, head held high. All my life, I have grown up seeing men like my grandpa, my father and Sir. And now I know that it is never possible for me to idolize someone who is not even close to their stature.

The other day while talking to him over phone, Sir mentioned a raucous experience he had in his class. He had just finished reading aloud Guy de Maupassant’s famous 1884 short story, The Necklace. And few of the students laughed at it(he has also posted about this in his blog). Shocked, I asked, "Mane?" Sir replied, even he was shocked at their reaction. The students found the damnation of two lives funny! Unbelievable!
And if this doesn't shock you, I'm sure the following news will... Read on.

Today's news about the gruesome murder of a wife by a software engineer in Dehradun tops the inhumanity in man.
News report says:
"On December 13, 2010 the Pioneer reported that in a gruesome incident, a software engineer battered his wife to death with an iron object, chopped her body into eight to ten pieces and kept her body hidden in a freezer in Dehradun for two months. Rajesh Gulati, 38, kept updating his wife’s status on her social networking websites so that her Delhi-based family and others could not learn about her death until a week ago." Though 8 to 10 pieces is just an under statement, since 27 pieces of HALF her body were recovered.

What else is left to be done? If this is not inhuman, what is? It pains me to think that today's world is filled with such INHUMAN WRETCH OF MONSTERS! And to survive with sanity amongst people who are always trying to pull me down in the grimy and lackluster world, I must say I am thankful to those few people I am blessed with: the three venerable men of my life and last but certainly not the least, my mom!

Their words of wisdom and knowledge have always guided me to stand upright and abhorred me from doing anything for which I would lose my self-respect. It shivers me to think about the future of this world. Who knows what is in store for these people and for the generations to come!

The Prophet, The Wanderer.

For quite some time I had been hunting for an anchor to restore my tranquility. Failing to think of any fruitful option, I landed at Starmark. After traversing through the floors and inspecting almost every section( and shelf) of the book store, I stumbled on a big fat Omnibus edition of Kahlil Gibran.

I had read Prophet earlier, but the sight of the complete collection lured me to empty my pocket.
The second book after Prophet in this complete collection is SAND AND FOAM. It is a collection of short stories and aphorisms which will not only amaze you but also make you wiser. It throws light into the deeper layers of life, which, unfortunately is missing from the superficial life of "hi-tech world".

I went to the mountains a while later after getting my hands on the book. All throughout the journey, this book was my only companion. Every time I read and re-read the short stories and aphorisms in SAND AND FOAM, I was dumbfounded. I went taciturn for hours, lost in a different world.

I am quoting some of the Wanderer's words here:

"Now would I fulfill myself. But how shall I unless I become a planet with intelligent lives dwelling upon it?
Is not this every man's goal?"

"A pearl is a temple built by pain around a grain of sand.
What longing built our bodies and around what grains?"

"Once I knew a man whose ears were exceedingly keen, but he was dumb. He had lost his tongue in a battle.
I now know what battles that man fought before the great silence came. I am glad he is dead.
The world is not large enough for two of us."

"My house says to me, 'Do not leave me, for here dwells your past.'
And the road says to me, 'Come and follow me, for I am your future.'
And I say to both my house and the road, 'I have no past, nor have I a future. If I stay here, there is a going in my staying; and if I go, there is a staying in my going. Only love and death change all things."

"When you long for blessings that you may not name, and when you grieve knowing not the cause,then indeed you are growing with all things that grow, and rising toward your greater self."

A new addition to the history of blasts!

"History is nothing but the activity of men in pursuit of their ends."
-Karl Marx


Around 60-70 years back, an Argentine writer, named J.L. Borges, wrote about BENARES, without ever visiting the holy( now blood-stained) place.

Today morning while I was surfing through the news of the pernicious blast at Dashashwamedh, couple of links related to the blast popped up. But then I was bemused to see that a scroll bar on the right hand side of the page gave links to 15 pages(!), each containing news of about 20 blasts that took place this year around the globe.

It's the 63rd year of 'independence', as per historical records, but the innate disdain in our souls continues to goad us into destruction. We are still prey to the divide and rule. Perhaps it's rightly said that "the sun never sets on the British empire" because its span across the globe ensured that the sun was always shining on at least one of its numerous territories. And that certainly includes our hearts and minds, if not geographical territories!

"History does nothing; it does not possess immense riches, it does not fight battles. It is men, real, living, who do all this." -Karl Marx

Then why are we still so eager to repeat that history at the cost of our lives?

The Notebook

Episode 1:
(The letter: Aberrations from a dulcet girl)


Some soul mates spend their lives together, while some others are unlucky! Some just happen to stumble on them, while some others keep looking for all their lives.
I had loved him alright, dreaded to even see his face at some point of time and happily fell in love with him head over heels again! Sometimes I felt insecure and died to know if he felt the same.. And at other times, I basked in the glory of being in his arms! I built small castles in my dream bubbles about reigning in his heart’s kingdom just when my nightmares started looming large, hovering across like a blood-thirsty vulture! I fought with it, tried to kill it once and for all, to foolishly discover thousands more waiting in the queue! Surrendering, I paced my steps back to sketch another of my cloudy dream bubble, with a new hope, for a better day. But my conflict remained subdued in my subconscious no matter how much I tried to battle them out.....

I don’t want to sound a weepy dame, alright, but, like you said the other day, am just talking of my innermost fears. They have ruled the last few years of my life.. 
I had never dreamt of a PRINCE CHARMING to come trotting (not literally, though, on a horse I mean) but I definitely wanted a secret keeper and secret sharer in my beloved betrothed. I wanted a BEST FRIEND who would be as crazy as I am, a bit more if not less! How can I afford a DECENT, GENTLE GUY from EARTH? I needed a crazy fellow from MARS! Oh yes, I m a proud resident of VENUS! You bet!

I probably sound childish but I’m afraid to grow up at the cost of my life! May be I sound funny even, but it has been one of my many foolish dreams carved on my dreamscape- I nurtured a wish to be held in the strong arms of a person who would willfully keep my innocence intact. I do all the grown-up things only to come back to that one man always eager to take me the way I am, in my virtues and vices, in my successes and failures, in all my follies; who would know my deepest emotion without me even having to say it. 

But before you scare the hell out of me, let me confirm that this not a matrimony advertisement ;-). All I want to say before I fuss anymore and before you start dozing off, is that I just wanted to make it work, really work, building a real castle(not that gigantic castle, if u might think), not in my dreams anymore but in real life, before death do us apart! Well u can make a flat-stle if you want to; so long there is serenity in it!

Episode 2:

I had written this for a person who had been very special to me once upon a time, and still is, but the interpretation has changed now. How foolish some people can be! Well if not all you ‘educated’, ‘sensible’ and ‘matured’ people out there but I can certainly bet on my foolishness. You might be thinking, “Is she out of her mind? How come she sounds so proud for being foolish?”  Well, the answer is, I am not proud, not exactly, but certainly I laugh at myself, pity myself. 
Yes, PITY is the word. I hated this word once upon a time, abhorred showing this emotion to anyone whatsoever. Irony of fate: it has hit me back like a boomerang.

I have never seen a vulture in real life. Probably won’t be able to recognize it even if it comes in front. But one thing that I know about it is how it feels when it chews on someone’s flesh.

Are you thinking I meant it literally? Well no, it's the other way round.

When you feel the ground beneath your feet and the roof on your head absent, and a naughty mouse or rabbit chewing on your flesh, a leech sucking your blood and a serpent continually nipping your arms and head while you are in empty space, it feels no better, I guess.

I chased the flying castle, tumbling on every stone on my way and finally hurting my head when I fell flat on my back. When I opened my eyes, the ground and the roof were in their allotted places, proudly reigning their kingdom. I was confined within the unwelcoming silence in my jail, once again. Every day seemed to be a stretched long dark night which had no end.

I am a prisoner who is not accused of any crime. 
Then why am I imprisoned? 
Because I have chosen it for myself. 
And why did I choose so? 
For I was blind enough to consider it  ‘home’. 
Why didn’t I leave or run or escape from this prison? 
Since I am blessed by 'well-wishers' who would cry buckets of fat, salty tears and hurt their hearts if they found I am not ‘happy’ as per their understanding of the term. Hence the disguise. 


“Yippy, I have braved the ghosts of one more night, mom!”

I want to collapse, scream and shout out all those exceptional French words which might pacify my exasperation. But are there words enough to metamorphose me into a phlegmatic soul? Others may be creative, but I am a failure in this aspect of ingenuity. 


Episode 3:

It’s a new installment now, a new episode: I don’t need an adhesive anymore nor do I need to uphold a brave face. I don’t lie to my parents any longer, don’t need to- it’s a blessing in disguise. I have learnt to exhaust myself enough by the end of each day to avoid confronting any more ghosts of the dead cold night.

The night is peaceful like a corpse. Inert, meek and docile. I have gained control over its flaccidity, once and for all. The sagging night and its poltergeists have lost their existence now.

They rule me no long.  The manacles of my life are in my hand now. I have triumphed the biggest battle of my life: the war with my deepest qualms.

All are at harmony and I am serene. The flickering stars have returned with their smiles. I smile back in response…

Zarathrustra

A strayed vagrant midnight squall last night sang to the ears of the dreaming dark sky,
" Dream of me, and here I rain. Dream of God and the blessings pour"' and the sleeping sky smiled as in its dream as Zarathrustra said, 'Tathastu".

By Debotosh Mitra.

SHELL

Monsoon arrived late this year.
But didn’t forget to visit nonetheless.
The stars of our solar system peep in and out of the horizon on time.
Mothers are feeding babies, lovers making love.
Idols are worshipped and priests are earning profits.
Schools, colleges, offices and shops open on time;
Doctors and lawyers are busy filling their pockets in the name of service...


I watch the rotating wheel of time.
An observer.
I hear a knock which keeps growing louder;
A scream behind closed doors, a thump on heart’s walls.


The stillness in silence resonates throughout the universe.
A monster’s face evolves on the walls of my womb; its teeth pierces out.
My frown smoothes.

But this is not my reality.
My world is inside my shell that shuns out everything.
No memories, no reality, no mystery.
Just being... unflinching.

Life's lesson

When the entire world descends into their sleeping abode, I keep talking to the stars alone, seeking answers to my innumerable questions.

There's a voice that hunts me down...
There's a tune that lures me...
There's a tornado that whirls around.
Pillars of light pierce through me and battle each other.
When the winds of fire burn inside, rainbows emerge from the gorge of silence-the vacant niche gets occupied.

"And they lived happily ever after"--has been the first tutor of mankind-so do people say. And the WORST by far.
It inflates the patience in man till he transforms into a piece of stone!

My Reality

Perhaps I’m locked up in some corner, of some maze of my multi-layered dream.

The cold wind gushing in through the window dishevels my hair: the strands blur my vision. My lids are heavy—they stretch out and settle down on my eyes. I hear the horns honking; the car is moving through the congested roads, faster than I expected: I feel motion. This motion defies dream. I smell the wind: it’s rain-soaked. Some more strands of hair get entangled in my lashes. I want to lift my hand and keep them from disturbing. I can’t.  My heart throbs in my ears. I want to inhale with patience and silence my heart. But gravity pulls it down. My hands can’t reach out. I can feel proceeding towards my current destination. I want to extend my hand and feel the person sitting next to me. I want to decipher if he is just a projection of my mind or real. I fail again.

But I sure have reached by now. I force my eyelids to fold: I haven’t progressed any further. This isn’t supposed to be a dream! It can’t be!  I’ve felt his hands on my face. He has assured me of this reality. I can’t be standing where I’ve started from. I turn towards the person sitting beside. He’s still there. He is saying something. I try to read his lips. Blurred. I turn to face the road outside. Black worms drizzling in the air or in me. I can see dark spots dancing. I turn to face him again. He smiles, a reassuring one. His smile is real.
He doesn’t smile in my dreams. He asks me where I am. I’m clueless.

He nudges me to get down from the cab and helps me cross the road. I know not where I’m headed to. I let him lead my way. I don’t know when I’ll reach. I wait for the train. It knows my destination. I’m more than eager now. The train hasn’t arrived yet and I’m waiting to locate where my journey ends.

The lights carve out my image on the wall—it climbs up the stairs. To where my journey ends? I can feel the vibration of the train. It’s coming within my reach. I can hear it approaching. I can feel it looming large on me.

It’s not a dream or a reverie anymore.
It’s no trance.
This IS my reality. 

RANDOM #2

"If there is nothing and nobody to believe in, if one's faith in goodness and justice has all been a foolish illusion, if life is ruled by the Devil rather than by God---- then, indeed, life becomes hateful; one can no longer bear the pain of disappointment. One wishes to prove that life is evil, that men are evil, that oneself is evil. The disappointed believer and lover of life thus will be turned into a cynic and a destroyer. this destructiveness is one of despair; disappointment in life has led to hate of life"

By Eric Fromm
The Heart of Man.

THE OLD MAN AND THE VIOLIN

The black veil failed to hide the tears
Even though it managed to camouflage the old man.

Even the dark waves were afraid
To splash against his feet.

The lonely beach was his only company
And his violin...

RANDOM #1

Some white flowers were painted on the black bed sheet which was drawn up to his neck. His head was slightly tilted towards the right, resting peacefully on the pillow; his hands folded as if in a prayer and rested on his chest. Was he talking to one or few of the 33 crores of gods and goddesses and pleading for mercy? May be, may be not.
Wait.... did I just say 'mercy'?
Hell yes, I guess I did.  What makes me so sure that he waits for mercy?
What if he doesn't feel guilty at all?
The probability is more in the latter. That's the way it has always been.

A faint streak of yellow light sneaked into his room from the washroom and his face glowed. A rug was neatly folded and placed near his feet; he didn't need them; just a bed sheet was enough. The sound of the fan faded in the deafening silence. I waited. Waited to watch him breathe, waited to ensure he's alive. It wasn't easy to make out in the dark if his lungs were working. I switched on the light. And waited at the door. Again.

I checked the time. 3.30am.
I fixed my eyes on his face. Once more. He looked innocent, like a 5 year old. Vulnerable. Passive. It deserved mercy. I felt the long-drawn frown on my forehead relaxing.
I switched off the light. As I was about to leave, he woke up, his head hanging, blood dripping from his mouth. He turned towards me. That gory smile sent shivers through my spine.
The innocence was gone. The person in front of me was no more a vulnerable 5 year old kid. I was face to face with a monster, a psychopath, a cannibal. I rushed out of the room with a jolt. My room whirled around; the roof and the floor hurried towards each other in an age-old conspiracy to grind me to death. I felt claustrophobic. I needed air, some fresh air. I ran to the balcony. After a good 10-15 minutes, I realized I was still shaking. Everything was foggy around. My eyelids screamed for some rest. I came back to my room, closed my door and lied down. This creature certainly deserved no mercy.

Some bullets fired, corpses heaped up in a pool of blood. I felt wobbly.
I tried to scream for help.
My eyes frantically searched for some recluse... No sign of life around. I ran down the streets, knocking at every door, shouting, yelling, screaming... When suddenly I felt the ground shake.. Trees tumbled and houses collapsed.. I tried to run for shelter but my feet were stuck in intertwining mesh of uprooted trees.

I jerked up from sleep. Checked the time in my cell phone: 4.05am.
I searched for the bottle of water. It was close to my bed when I went off to sleep, but it seemed distant now.   After gulping down the entire contents of the bottle, I got up from my bed and went to the wash basin, carefully avoiding peeping into his room. I splashed some water on my face, neck, ears and the palms of my hand. Gathering enough courage, I started walking back. When I reached the door of his room, I stopped, paused a little and entered. The innocent boy was happy in his slumber. His face tilted to his right, resting on the pillow, hands folded neatly on his chest, praying... praying... praying..

FACE

His face emerges from the tiles.

It spreads across the wall.

It glares at me, smiles sometimes.

It intrigues me.

It gnaws at my memories.

When the skin of the face melts away,

I enjoy a ghoulish delight in my veins.

When it frowns, I frown back at it.

It soothes me when it looks at me with grace.

Afraid of being carried away,

I quickly remind myself of His black blood.

The blood clots in my brains.

It oozes out molten lava of bitterness.

A stain of love remains.... absent.

A stain of a phantom pain.

LAST FAREWELL

Breath feels tired—

Nightmares stop haunting...

Waves stop splashing against the beach...

Roads trip and fall on their way

Nights lose their pace, and

Days falter on their path.

On snowy nights,

A hummingbird visits you

And gives you one more reason to live.

He has been my only deity.. His every action, word and gesture had just one meaning:love life. I vaguely remember all his  words, since I was hardly ten when I lost him.
All I have is a feeling that envelopes me, a blanket of love that has never left me alone, a strong hand that has lifted me up every time i fell, a pat on my back whenever I accomplished something..
This is all I have of him today and there's nothing more that I can ask for...
This blog is for you, grandpa! May your soul rest in peace....

WOODEN MEMORIES.

This is my life...

A silent life...

Living in a veil of falling doors

Confronting every wound’s eternal question-

Why do I survive in the woods of wooden memories?

How do I survive with a heart pricked

with thorns of memories?

Caught in a web of bizarre memories,

The foolish heart still dreams to breathe

Embracing the map of universe in each of its cell,

It only hopes to... BREATHE??

The garden blooms,

Blooms with the new breath of stars-

And their light sparkles in my eyes.

Every tear evaporates with its new birth

Its new breath

And sparks across every wooden garden,

Smiles across every map of this universe.... 

PEARL

Tear is but a pearl

Torn out

Of a neatly woven garland.

Heart, a treasure of pearls

Neatly woven

In tranquillity.

Pain, the reflection of solace

In solitude,

Bliss in blasphemy.

STRING

There’s an invisible string between us,

Unflinching,

Unwavering.

It moves back to those memory lanes

wet with untimely rains,

to those soothing tunes that gave

a reason to breathe;

to those nocturnal classes,

that taught me to fly,

to love,

to live.

DUSTY NIGHTS

Dusty nights and stifling days...

                 Roll on.

The ancient universe

                Grasps me in.

And a faithless world grows

                In my womb.

NICHE

Niche...

A silent niche impregnated

 With violent dewdrops...

Blood drops... freezing in its womb...

Silence sneaking through the veins, arteries

              hissing out its pain.

Silence bore its pain.

Behold.... Behold.... Behold....

VACUUM

Silence perturbed.

Night hesitating to step into light,

Droplets of fire amidst an ocean of void...

A disintegrated soul lay motionless

Yearning to be engulfed

By a monstrous vacuum.

BAT

    I roam around solitary in crowded corners. 

    Roads I chose to walk on faded in front of me.

    Trees broke down and monuments collapsed.....

    Destination stumbled on my way.

    I tripped and fell.

    Smoke filled heart faltered to pump...

    A bat hovered on top....

    It's monstrosity lingered in my veins for ages.........

PARADISE PERTURBED

    In the rain soaked night,

    Even the scaly arms of nightmare lose their rigidity.

    The foams of waves

    Spread across the wide stretched sandscapes.

    Grains of night dissolve.

    An impregnated ocean flares up.

    The windmill awaits instruction.

    Unwelcome footprints emerge.

    They stab the serenity.

MUSIC

   HE is a drummer.

   When HE strikes the sticks on the heavenly drums,

   stars shed sparks off,

   constellations scatter their lights 

   across this ancient universe.

   We call it life.

   HE calls it MUSIC......

SLEEP

Sleep patted on my back the other day.

I smiled.

Sleep was surprised to find me so calm.

My smile shifted to one corner of my lips.

It disturbed Him.

I looked starkly at His eyes.

This time, Sleep progressed one flight towards maturity.

Sleep had an unfortunate choice of accepting failure.

Death's offspring was defeated hands down.

A gust of wind flapped the concealing veil

     of the black cloak.

The wrinkles around His eyes and lips

     were prominent.

That gave me one more reason

     to smile.

His wrinkled face felt protected once again,

As the veil smoothly came down on His face.

Foams of soft waves kissed our feet.

The red crabs were our only company

     on the lonely sea-shore.

TUTOR

When the entire world descends into their sleeping abode, I keep talking to the stars alone, seeking answers to my innumerable questions. 

There's a voice that hunts me down...

There's a tune that lures me...

There's a tornado that whirls around.

Pillars of light pierce through me and battle each other.

When the winds of fire burn inside, rainbows emerge from the gorge of silence-the vacant niche gets occupied.

"And they lived happily everafter"--has been the first tutor of mankind-so do people say. And the WORST by far.

It inflates the patience in man till he transforms into a piece of stone!

OYSTER

    Mystery unfolds in an oyster....

    A devastated pearl lay inside motionless.

    Reincarnated waves splash against the beach.

    But the pearl remains unflinching.

RED NIGHT SKY 1

Did you see the red night sky recently?

I’ll tell you how it looks....

Not like Monalisa’s smile,

But far more mysterious...

I wondered time and again

If it could be god’s turbulent mind

Painting turmoil across the eternal canvas...

But I realised it’s otherwise.

The mystery is made far more unpredictable

By the mildness being mellowed down

Through its bright faint red.

It hardly says anything

But it explains a bigger mystery.

                                                            

RED NIGHT SKY 2

The redness of the sky has returned.

It’s still looming large.

But the mystery is gone.

The brick red this time

Is more suffocating than ever.

Well.....

I’m wrong.

Because a mystery is still hovering across.

The mystery tonight is in its suffocation.

A bizarre one though and hence all the more mysterious.

The redness wants to fade across

           the ancient sky.

And its failure breeds a suffocation

           unknown to human history.

It is tormented, with its blue soul

           tortured tight across the rack.

Oh, how I enjoy gazing at the red night sky,

Remembering our love,

Writing verses,

Penning down papers....

Completely forgetting the eternal pain

That gives us one more reason to celebrate.......

CIRCLE

           

     Craning your neck

     and straining your eyes

     You wait for dawn.

     The interval of leaves

     On every branch of your home side tree

     Is permeated

     By streaks of sun fire.

     They blind you.

     A deafening silence

     yearns to merge

     into the tranquil commotion

     of the day ahead.

     The strings of sitar

     cuddle up in sleep

     making room for wheels

     to stage the show.

     Soiled legs and sordid hands

     exchange an embrace.

     You stir up smoke

     while shaking hands.

     You nurture your curt smile

     during appreciation.

     Files heaped up,

     doors locked,

     shutters pulled down.

     You scissor through

     the grey city

     back to your den.

     You throw down

     on the stale sheet of bed.

     Death's offspring looming large

     to grasp you in,

     and so are you

     longing to be consummated.

     The sweet blasphemy

     of bitter sleeplessness

     draw you

     to open the panes

     and count the stars

     till daybreak.

     Craning your neck

     and straining your eyes

     You wait for dawn.