Crestfallen Reveries

Where do that colored beads take me?

The beads of constellating reveries

Rolling and glistering

They swell my sight

Trance?

Oblivion?

Languid?

In “Lethe”?

Am I the bleak shades in the buried vision of a painter?

Hankering to be splashed onto the canvas?

To concretize the envisioned images.

Am I the movements?

The grace in a dancing figure?

Am I dust?

Clay in the fist of a sculptor?

To be fused and churned

To be pressed and wrought

To be an enticing Galatea?

Estrange me from the air

 Design and fabricate!

"Do I wake or Sleep?"

Slip of Fingers!

I live in my fingers

The fingers which deck my haughty eyes

The fingers which tickle my ears,

With the turning of the forbidden keys

I dart out to the forbidden space

To be ravished and chiseled by the rain

My anklets unquiet 

Drenched and dripped 

With the pattering piercing downfall

When the convulsions of the intoxication wither

I dexterously elude the repercussions

And brush off the silent judgments

With a foxy tag of "slip of fingers!"

I no longer drape the nudity of my ragged mind

I no longer pull the cloak over me

To curb the blizzard of brickbats 

No longer shrivels my charmed naivety,

By the envy of the bliss of a crawling infant

For I am cauterized by the burning embers

Embers of the forlorn past!

And as these words are born

I would like you to tag this 

 As slip of mind

Wedded with slip of fingers!

Independent India vs. Independent Women

You can tell the condition of a nation by looking at the status of its women.
- Jawaharlal Nehru

“Independence”…the word itself sounds so soothing…it resonates a special vibration that excites and blooms a victorious smile on our beloved nation in its 65^th year of Independence and it’s high time we should reanalyze how far we have dwelled deep on to the meaning of that amazing word beyond its surface glamour especially in concern with the status of women. Of course the changes that swept across this “marginalized” sect have been tremendous…changes changes and changes in every facet to make them no more marginalized.  Many of the established biases have been reestablished erasing the gender typing…lifting the “Emotional Sentimental Fragile Dependent Submissive” race from the clutches of “Aggressive Brave Autocrat Dominant Independent” patriarchal culture. But does the society ceased to be patriarchal??? Oh don’t label this question as some bloody feminism… it's too far from it…How much that boasted of  transformation occurred in each of us…both males and females? Can the question be placed in a more psychological level apart from the structural changes or reforms in the political arena… but from the “individual” who is the very bed-rock of all establishments? Has the stain of gender- stratification got washed off impeccably from our collective conscience?  Autocratic minds are a disgrace to the supposedly democratic country. Centuries ago revolutionary Shelly asked the world “Can man be free if woman be a slave?” …Can a Nation be really free if woman is not independent in her very essential psyche?

Definitions...

I am already defined by the externals where I myself fumble for definitions to define me. I have often thought of definitions as a string of scrupulously formed “construct” which acts as an ideal to where you are instructed to trek so that you can fit into the images carved by these definitions (I am talking about definitions of abstract aspects of life, not the precise scientific definitions). Blend in the images or you are a great misfit, a disdained menace for that perfect balance. I have read somewhere that we have a proclivity for image formations…an image about a friend, an image about parents, siblings… an image wrought out by all our ugly biases and preoccupations about every single human soul we meet and they in turn will have there own images…and it’s with these images that we have relationship and not with the persons as they are. A bond between images…you relate to images and images only…and that’s why we crave for a perfect image…an image according to the “definition”…and in the midst of the interior scrambling to get into that image the quintessence of you will be in vapours. I don’t know how far that idea parallels itself to reality…but yes there are “definitions” and “images” sculptured into the conscience.
 
 Definitions become a jest when I try to define even the preliminaries of  what makes the "me" since definitions demand minimalism in words for definitions are not "explanations"...well the "me" may be a comfortably formed gist of all the integrated "images" of  the "me" reflected from the "past me". My friend once defined me as someone between a Nora (a submissive woman protagonist in Ibsen's play Doll's House) and an Antigone (the brave rebellious self willed girl of the Sophoclean Greek Tragedy). What she meant was that she always think of me as someone who's neither a typical Nora nor an Antigone but a complex mixture of both the traits. We usually try to associate people with a particular character that we have gone through in fictions. Identifying myself with the characters is a sound technique since characters can be defined with a certain objectivity and there by there may be a chance of sudden epiphany like effect of your realization of "self" with the characters. But I feel even characters cannot be defined...characters are not destitute of complexities and complexities need explications, not definitions...and people are beyond definitions just like abstract elements. But why do we often fail to acknowledge that they are not just images which we have formed in our petty minds with all our wretched preconceptions, but entities something beyond that images?... entities with a turbulent ocean bearing in their hearts..."each human being is a legend" as some writer said...with all their beauty, cruelty, love, aversions, hurts and complexes (we are not saints of-course) I use to feel that there is a wave untouched and unrecognized and unappreciated in each oceanic soul and appreciations have only a faded flush when we forget to appreciate what really should be appreciated. Images limit people and limit the relations chaining it in superficiality !

Insatiable Sensations...

I plucked out my sensation beyond sensation
And gave it you...
"Where's the root?" you asked
Well...the root was steeped in mud
It could have dirtied your hands
"But I wish to see the roots..."
It's from the roots the sensation has grown
The fair palpability of  fragrance
Feel it!
Inch by inch... 

It will take you to the root!

Do you see that??

It's winding all over you...

The roots of overwhelming sentience

Wait....be gentle...

You are in a bubble...crystal clear...

Chuck out the skeptic thorns

"Willing suspension of disbelief!"
You are in a bubble...

Revel in it...

Before its fragility fractures it

Before the wind betrays it

Revel in it!

And then slowly you get it...

The sensation beyond sensation

Comprehension beyond comprehension

Which I often talk about.

A thought which waited like ages

Soared up... 

A retaliation after endless subjugation!

The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but be in the lake...to luxuriate in the sensation of water. I do not work the lake out...it’s an experience beyond thought...poetry soothes and embolden the soul to accept the mystery!  - Keats