1 Sep 2015
Off the Shelf
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"Maman used to say that you can always find something to be happy about. In my prison, when the sky turned red and a new day slipped into my cell, I found out that she was right.”
― Albert Camus / The Stranger
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అటు వైపులా
ఇటు వైపులా
ఎటు వైపులా
పలు వైపులా
నలు వైపులా
అన్ని వైపులా
కారుమబ్బులు కమ్మి
పగలో రాత్రో
నిజమో స్వప్నమో
మరణమో జననమో
తెలియని నిశ్శబ్దం
ఊబిలా మారితే
కప్పిన తెల్లటి వస్త్రం
మెల్లెగా లేపి
చివరి సారిగా
నీ ముఖం చూసి
నవ్వు మరిచిన నీ చెంపలు
చల్లగా తాకితే
రాలింది ఒక్కసారిగా
జీవితం
కన్నీటి చుక్కై!
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a man
is made
to stand up
a woman,
to
stand up, too
after him
beside him.
there’s no rain
without
the clouds
it’s a sly mind
that asks
who comes first
they are ‘gether
a dream, a sleep.
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walking its streets at midnight
air dense with the odour of sweat
that of toil in stifling heat
blinded by the shimmering skyline
barely do i hear, even if i strain,
the waves of the sea afar
there's that girl, pretty in whites,
fucked many a time and loved never
haggling for her price for the night
there's that man, standing in dark
alone and looking into darkness
his cigarette spark, the only light
that baby, all of three years,
far from the arms of its mother
sleeping on the bed of dust
those midriffs that crave for touch
and those that quiver in cold
hiding alike the tales of regret
a city is many cities within
how many can i walk this night
with two feet, loath and languid
i pretend i don't see
the filth, strife and grief
the inescapable loneliness
as i pretend, the city does, too
that my words do not matter
and prepares for another dawn
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let us meet
again
in this very shade
for a moment brief
the tree has aged
by decades two;
life has tiptoed
in measures, too
and just as we did
twenty summers before
let us part
without a word
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i like looming gloom,
i like darkness
blinding and pervading
for it persists
light is but a flicker
that deceives; it will vanish
with the waft, gentle
of a lost breeze
and when the last glimmer
dissolves your shadow
the darkness returns
with steps you can’t hear
is that why, then,
man, in spite of himself,
is lured by darkness
to sow his dreams
what will you find
swimming in sea waters
dive into the depths
to find its treasures
which bird in the woods
will sing for you
unless you drag your feet
into the quiet deep
whispers of her heart
those eyes will not speak
you must, o lover,
lose yourself in her glance
what are stories worth
if they don’t voice
the dark grief
of the homeless, the forlorn
the farthest of stars
whose twinkle you admire
what will it be, if not
for the envelope of dark
tender dreams, where will
they find their wings
if the baby slips not
into the bliss of sleep
o, the light, the very light
the light of lights
finds its shimmer and song
only at the dead of night
i like looming gloom,
i like darkness
blinding and pervading
for it consumes and treasures!
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Sketch, he wanted to, Camus
Sketch, he did, a stranger
What a fall!
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Both of [X]’s wives turned out to be expensive to keep, having a predilection for clothes and jewellery. It became clear that [X] had joined al-Qaeda because he needed the money, so therefore the leverage would be offering to help him with his financial needs.
At the next interview, [Y] had $10000 on his desk, which had been taken in a raid. He also forged a divorce petition that indicated to [X] that he could get rid of the more expensive of his wives. Suddenly, [X] started talking in detail about his work as a bomb-maker for al-Qaeda. As the interrogations continued, the interrogators found themselves getting ever closer to the prime object of the manhunt – [Z].
– Source: Manhunt / Alexander Stilwell
Who is innocent? Who exploited whom? I wonder if we have definitive answers for these questions, although any uncertainty on such judgmental questions irks us. Our conditioning with duality compels us to judge in haste and finish with it. We don’t quite like dwelling. We put God and Devil at opposite poles; it’s easy. All ethical, moral and activist rhetoric adopts this slant. The fault is always with the other.
But is it so simplistic? The other is a product of the system, the same system we are part of. Consequently, the responsibility befalls on each one of us. Greed is encouraged in consumerist systems, and it passes off as innocuous, and even desirable, trait. It appears harmless. When we sit and dig deeper, the stories the layers unravel might be appalling. The finger then turns about and points to oneself.
God and Devil are never at the poles, for there are none. All we have is shades of grey. Innumerable shades of grey. And God and Devil are somewhere there, lurking, playing hide-and-seek.
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from these ashes
shall He rise
the trident-weilding
three-eyed pearl
of the trinity
in Him shall
the three passages of time
merge into timeless;
in Him shall
the three worlds of might
unite into boundless;
in Him shall
the three dimensions of perception
dissolve into wakefulness
and at this place
where music and silence mingle
darkness and light combine;
where the living dread
and the dead rest,
shall you hear the steps
of His eternal dance
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ACT I
God: “They know you are not me. Why keep them waiting?”
Godot: “I might go, but what’s the point, though?”
God: “Contemplating about the point! Doesn’t suit you.”
Godot: “If only I cared!”
Pause.
The leafless tree braves another winter.
Godot: “What’s your point?”
God: “Do I need one?”
Godot: “So, let it be!”
The lace of the shoe comes off.
God: “Tea-par-tee-re-par-tee”
ACT II
All Over. Again.
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