Monday, 13 April 2009

tonight i can write...


It's horrible.


Even worse.

Combine both and you have a recipe for disaster.

While my mother is away and my sister and dog are snoring across the hall, I sit and waste time, looking at the minutes pass me by. Precious minutes wasted. I cannot write. I'm too tired. I think. Far too much. And I worry even more. I wonder, do we ever live in the present or are we always stuck in the past or looking to the future?

I can't even read because I'm too sleepy to focus. And the two or three friends I have left in the universe are deeply sleeping. I'm thinking about a Pablo Neruda poem I heard in school and came across again a few weeks ago. I wish I could write like that. And I will keep wishing.
If you haven't read any of Neruda's work, life is incomplete. I think even if you've never been in love, if you read Neruda's work, you'll find out about love and loss. Sigh.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

to you

Second post in a night. The five incomplete scripts on my desktop can wait. I’ve been thinking about the people in my life.. they come and go, but many have left marks on me. Smiles, hickeys, scars.. whatever marks you’d like to think of. Call me sentimental or unforgiving but I’ll never forget the marks. Whether they were left in love or war doesn’t make a difference. And I’d like to thank them. Here goes.

1&2. My mother and sister. My world revolves around them and vice versa. Enough said.

3. The Mallu lifesaver. Yes, you helped me pass all my French exams. And many other exams too. You also made me a better person. Less negative. Maybe more positive, even. Wink. We don’t speak so often now, but you’re always there on my mind. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

4. The poet in the valley. The man who first told me and showed me that I could write. The first person (and to date, the only person) who wrote me a poem. And not just me.. he wrote 40 of us a poem. We all love you to pieces and wish we could see you and cry on your shoulder more often. You are sturdier than Cave Rock itself. They valley would not be the same without you.

5. My Mallu wife. Grin. Seas may separate us but 10 paise Hutch to Hutch calls or not, the bond remains. We fight. We make up. We fight again because she’s not called me in ages. We make up again. So on and so forth. She lends me her beautiful books and sometimes designs for me. Think ‘fridge space’. I would need a damn good reason to divorce her.

6. The friend that was. Thank you for everything. For showing me life is never as we see it. For teaching me to be smarter about my friends. For hurting me and teaching me many lessons. You may have gone after college ended but I think of you still. And I will never forget. I hope you are happy now, and smarter. I wish you all the goodness that you never wished for me.

7. For the whiney whiffer. At one time the first person to message me in the morning and the last person to message me at night. I’m so happy you’ve found sturdy ground and found your niche. I’m happy you never let him get to you. I’m happy you never let your family destroy you. Thank you for being my friend.

8. For niyo. You know who you are. You changed my life and will continue to change it every day I know you. Thank you for all the joy. And thank you for all the scars. You have made me stronger as well as weaker. I hope the bond remains forever.

9. Ru fru. The one who has had a million obstacles to overcome and yet she remains positive. I wish I could learn from you and not resent your family for how they treat you. I will miss you when you leave.

10. The Stella gang. One word : madness. A madness which I still miss terribly on occasion. Another word : randomness. Sitting under trees, bunking classes to discuss philosophical issues arising out of our text anyway. Our profs could have learnt something from us. I miss you mad hatters and hope you’re all happy.

11. The Bong ball. I can’t remember if I had the crutches during the ISC or if you had the crutches… or maybe we both had crutches. Somehow we’re extreme opposites but almost identical. How? You’re lucky we don’t live in the same city or I’d have nagged your ear off about your smoking and weight issues by now. Hehe.

12. The skinny one. I’m glad someone is skinnier than me. Or was. You got me through some very bad times. Yes I know we’re estranged now but that doesn’t matter. Thank you for putting up with me when you did.

13. The laughing Buddha. I’m beginning to talk like you now, donkey. But you’ve showed me such joy though I’ve only known you such a short while. You bring a smile to everybody’s face and for that reason we all love you to bits. Go finish your blushing session now.

14. Almost Buddha. I’ve been speaking to you only of late but I already think that I will end up talking to you as long as you live. May you live a very long time and may you dispense all your therapeutic recipes to people during that time.

15. The gameboy. The time we had was short and we didn’t get to do much, but you showed me how to be happy again. And how to live for myself. Bless you and your no nonsense attitude.

The list is very far from done. But I think I’m not doing it justice. More to come when

I’m in a more eloquent mood.

mercury rising

It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature where I live. In more ways than one. The world is truly coming to an end… we’re going to melt or drown very soon. So is our so-called democracy. I’m not going to preach or grumble about the media or democracy or elections or politicians… I’m going to sit back, eat some really juicy mangoes, and watch the fun unfold like I’m watching a really bad episode of Heroes. What can I say… I’m hooked to the news now. Unfortunately. And the news here is very bad. In fact it’s inspiring a lot of satirical writing from my end. In between juggling mangoes, the television remote and my laptop though I will also find time to go out and cast my first ever vote, in the coming parliamentary elections. Yes, maybe it’ll be a debacle. Maybe it already is a complete farce and debacle. Okay, it IS. Who am I kidding. But I will vote anyway. As a citizen of this godforsaken democracy. If I don’t care why should the politicians or media care. Damn.. Sorry. And I said I wouldn’t preach.

It’s just that my job involves reporting aforementioned debacles. A job which has taken over my life. That’s nothing new. My work in newspapers itself made me disappear from people’s lives for weeks. Television however is a totally different ballgame. A violent and extreme one at that. Call me a typical print journalist, but I haven’t been able to stomach television media. In my country at least. It’s not only bought all my time, it’s bought my entire life. My friends don’t know I’m alive… let me re-phrase… I have no friends who aren’t reporters now. And my mother actually asked me to quit so she could see me once in a way and put some fat on my bones. Which I’m glad to say I’ve done. [gasp again]. Which brings me to what am I going to do next? I don’t know [bigger gasp?]

Just because I’ve not posted anything on my blog in nearly [gasp!] a month, it does not mean I’m not writing. I have been. So joy to the world! It’s made me very happy, as well as sad. I’m now left wondering how on earth to make a profession out of this when I know nothing whatsoever about how to write or who to sell my writing to. Ahem, if anyone wants it that is. Currently on my plate are [wait, I’m counting] five, yes five, pieces of writing I need to complete asap. Not bad for someone who hadn’t touched pen and paper in almost two years. I have a miles to go before I sleep, though. Literally. And since I’m still working my notice period I have to juggle a 24/7 job and five incomplete scripts. Sigh. It’s April and it’s already four degrees above the normal temperature. I hope I can take the heat.