Showing posts with label Ramble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ramble. Show all posts

Thursday, June 15, 2017

An Ode to Europa

File Picture : Landing on Europa (circa 2108)

Slowly their dreams stopped and their prayers dried,
And one day, long after the songs had died,
They met others like them, from far off distant lands.
And in their communion, they found meaning again.
And together, they set out to build a new world.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

The Mountains Calling


" And even when the external world has granted all it can, there still remain the searchings of the mind and the longings of the heart.” _ Arthur C. Clarke

Reading Childhood's End and listening to Johann Johannsson's ethereal music for Arrival has me reminiscing those trips to the mountains for some reason. Those grand stone edifices hold some sort of truth in them. Something to say about time and its passing. Something primal, something mythical and something probably beyond the understanding of a single life time.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Outsiders


The word 'outsider' has a certain turgid charm to it. The man who came in from the cold, a force of nature, who became an agent of change. We love to romanticise the alien. Cos  its a respite for our mundane media fatigued brain.

True isolation is when you become an outsider to your self. When your mind simply can't understand itself and begins to distend and distort. Eventually it fractions itself and the part carrying you keeps itself away from the part that's truly you.

I guess all the art in the world is created as an attempt to bridge those fractions of ourselves. Strangely enough though, through someone else's music every once in a while you catch a glimpse of yourself. One outsider helping another.  

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Recollection



Isn't it strange when you meet someone after a really long time you are surprised by how they appear. Not just how they 'look' but also who they have become as a person. A sea of change has come to pass since your last impression of them. It takes time yet slowly but surely this new image of that person comes to rest itself upon your mind and you forget the old one. Like an OS updating itself in your memory.

And then as time goes by, one fine afternoon, under totally unrelated circumstances, you catch yourself thinking of that person. And by virtue of some glitch in your mind's recollection mechanism you remember him/her as they were all those years ago. And with such vigour that too. You hear their old voice, peculiar speech inflection, their old character tics, the way they used to hold themselves and even the way they used to smell. All those things which you thought time would never change but did in some way.And for a moment you relive that. 

And then just like that it fades away. 

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Worn out Xeroxes

The irony of memory is that it is created from scratch with each recall. Hastily slapped together from sensory recollections. Eventually your memory becomes a mere caricature, a glorified shadow of the real thing. And the greater irony is that you'll never know when that happens.

Friday, December 18, 2015

The Mobeus Spirit


What's done is done and has been done for quite a while.
When you don this mantle of creative enterprise your destiny lies in the realm of the 'could be's' and the 'might be's.
That is where you must flow toward and that is where the true battle lies.
Just as your ephemeral muse strums her song to the tune of your imagination,
So should your dreams have an effervescence of the unimaginable that makes you ebb for more.
It is the cost and it is the prize.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Cosmic Quandries


Roaming in the ancient seas , George the trylobite looks up at the heavenly night sky and ponders about the magnificent cosmos.

What would it feel like to fly into that great vast void above. Would I be able to swim through those beautiful structures. How far will I have to go do you fathom ?I wonder if anyone else is thinking about all this. I wish I could ask them. I wish I could know. What a waste it would be, to not look up and wonder and not try to know.

And just like that,the thought vanishes from his mind. And he swims onward.


photo courtesy : Hubble Space Telescope

Monday, March 2, 2015

For What it's Worth

Dear Comrade,

Our greatest asset is our integrity. Honest integrity armed with conviction. We do not fall victim to the trappings of today , nor are we confined by faith in some preordained destiny.  We are not enticed by wealth or fame nor are we undone by false laurels or patronising equivocation. We  refuse to be dictated to.And we will not give in to the machinery grinding at our heels.

We seek the truth. Truth in all that we feel and all that we do.We sample meaning from our experience, enriched by the lives of those with and before us, filtered through our conscious choices. It is often much like plotting your course through a vast ocean of emptiness. For when we are battling the great waves and the storms and the sharks and the sickness, purpose seems all but a mirage. But in our hearts, we know, that our compasses would always face north. And  when in doubt, we must tell ourselves that we are mariners. Men and women born from this very emptiness.

Voyagers and explorers. Men who refused to kneel when the world refused to budge.


Wednesday, November 5, 2014

A Revenge Story

Light eyed peasant boy, fell by a she-wolf, lay bleeding in the desert sun.
"Water", he whispered into the heat.
A shadow loomed over him.
He heard the chime of a canister.
A few cool drops trickled onto his lips and dribbled over, moistening his parched mouth.
He felt an understanding hand observe the torn flesh.
"Who are you?",he asked feebly.
"Nobody."
"Why.."
"I'll let it bleed.", the stranger cut the boy short.
"No ! please.."
The shadow took away the water from him.
Then whispered into his ear,"I'll let it bleed so that the angst breeds on your open wounds;
 It will fester in your being, colouring your purpose, infesting your resolve.When venom runs in your veins, you will do anything to stay alive."

"Vengeance", he whispered, "will be your ticket out of this world."

Friday, October 17, 2014

In the Melee of our Existence


Drink deep the red of your soul,
And revel in its lusty waves;
Rise up and soak in the radiance of your being,
And breath in the air of your freedom.

Tear down your vain facades,
And take on those naked blows;
Bite into those censoring chains,
And rage against their shadowy grip.

Shatter till you find it in you,
To stand up once again;
To breathe in those precious petals of sorrow,
Doused thick in resentment,
And watch it float away,whithering,
Like scars from a forgotten melee.

Let your song beat to your heart's rhythm;
Let your feet feel the pulse of your earth;
Let it resound, even when you hold down your quiver;
Let it echo, even in the wake of your silence.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Waiting for Daybreak

   Waiting for Daybreak

Sometimes the paint brush runs dry.
And the art stops beating.
Thoughtless sepia canvases lie awake;
Like songs that died on your tongue.

Old paintings are like old friends whom you run into after many years
They just look, smell and taste different.
You never quite know what to do with them.

So I gave her a wash in aquamarine and a breath of the sea,
Laced her up with a simple kiss, and placed her on my wall
And she slapped me back to life.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

In Search of a Dawn

Hello my invisible minnions. I am back at my blog! Albeit for a very 'short' and incoherent rant .


This is a small graduation gift I made for my friend Gaurav Ogale, for his continued awesomeness of existencce. Do check out his insanely interesting delusional conversations with himself at his chai blog. The painting was inspired from a photograph of his. 


Monday, January 6, 2014

OMG


So  I wake up the other day and there is a guy sleeping next to me on my bed.

Friday, September 6, 2013

To All My Teachers



There is a lot I wish I could tell my teachers if I meet them again. Teachers from pre-school, nursery school, school, college and every other walk of life. Many of them I might not meet ever again, even if I do I may not remember their names, many more are faces that float in and out of my reveries and many many more I have, I must confess, I have forgotten. Its a sad thing, but its true.

So on this teachers day, let me just lose myself once again in those memories,let me relive once again those moments that I may only glimpse in my dreams. A small token of love to all my wonderful teachers and for all the goodness they've brought into this world.

Friday, August 23, 2013

Objects


“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” ~Alice Walker

--
Few things are more distressing than hearing a child say 'I can't..'.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Freedom of Spirit


“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Studying Cinema

I came across David Bordwell's website while researching for my final year colloquium paper. He is one of the top authorities on cinema online at the moment and runs the excellent film studies website davidbordwell.net. where he shares his observations on world cinema. His essays on various topics are both in-depth and at the same time quite accessible to all (without needless use of jargon and linguistic gimmickry). Here is one I found particularly insightful.Its about how film study is different from film watching.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Fortitude


My daily 'slog-blog' is being updated on quite a regular basis these days so do check it out.While 'The Mind-fill' is mainly stuff that fills my mind,'Hardcore Graphite' is more of the blood,sweat and tears side of my daily existence.It documents a lot of the behind the scenes activity (stuff that nobody really cares about,yet matters to me),the hardwork and the daily dose of failures.When the mindfill is my celebration,hardcore graphite is my perseverence.

Take a peak.You might just like.



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"Falling down is how we grow. Staying down is how we die."
--Brian Vaszily