find your poem

Hey friends,
I am editing this post because it is offending blogger friends. I am not making any change in the post because I am not feeling bad. THIS IS ONLY A GAME. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CREATIVITY. IT IS A GAME ABOUT HOW RANDOM WORDS PUT TOGETHER MAKE SENSE NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE PUT INTENTIONALLY BUT BECAUSE THE MIND IS SO ACCUSTOMED TO CONCRETENESS, THE KNOWN, LOGIC, REASON AND MEANINGS THAT IT FINDS MEANINGS EVERYWHERE. THE MIND WILL REMAIN RESTLESS UNTIL IT HAS PUT ALL THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE TOGETHER IN LIFE OR IN GAME. IT IS ONLY THE HEART THAT RESPONDS TO THE ILLOGICAL, IRRATIONAL, THE UNKNOWN OR ANY QUEST .....DEAR BLOGGERS I DO NOT MEAN TO HURT YOU....IT IS ONLY A GAME JUST LIKE THOSE FUN-STORY GAMES WHERE THE FIRST PERSON STARTS WITH A SENTENCE AND THE THREAD IS CARRIED FURTHER BY OTHER PLAYERS...
WARNING: IF YOU HAVE ANY IMAGES OF ME AS A SERIOUS HUMAN-BEING OR YOU ARE A VERY SERIOUS HUMAN-BEING YOURSELF , DO NOT READ FURTHER....


MIGHTY MOTORSPORTS

The great thing about getting

anything you go after

Only actions give

the other half.....

LAMENESS

All the presidents

in the world of time

Self-importance is

second hand of a clock

Work saves us

World belong to the energetic

Everywhere I go

I win or lose

Sometimes a scream

...one will suffice

Hi friends,

These two poems came out of a game.

There are those who write poems and there are those who applaud. All of us at some point of our lives aspire to write something lyrical.....mysterious....magical...mystical

Now here is your chance to become a poet without the divine vision,without the intuition or that peculiar frenzy of mind that leads the pen.

And to you poetry lovers and readers, dont take offence...its just a game ---- a poetry-fun-game. It was created and started by get zapped. With her consent I am giving it here just to set the game rolling.....

Here are the simple rules of the game...

Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:RandomThe first random wikipedia article you get is the title of your poem.

Go to "Random quotations"or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

1) Select the first three or five words of the very first quote of the page for the first line of your poem.

2) Then the last three or five words of the next quote of the page is the second line of your poem.

3) Select the first three or five words of the third quote of the page for the third line, and then alternate as above until you’ve made it to the last quote…

Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7daysFifth picture, no matter what it is, will be your poem image. This part is optional.

So go ahead and pen down a few lines. You can take this game to your blog and please let me know when you create something...i shall only be too happy to see what you've been upto.

what do we choose?

This is a short story my brother sent me sometime back.

I am bringing this story here for all of you even though I found it so heart-breaking.

The story illustrates how we loose our awareness in fits of rage for things that do not really matter.

While dad was polishing his new car, his four year old son picked up a stone and scratched a few lines on the side of his car. The father seeing this got so furious that in anger he took the child's hand and hit it several times, not realising that he was using a wrench.

At the hospital, his child asked, "dad when will my fingers grow back?"

Dad was so hurt. He went back now to hit his car and kicked it many times.

Exhausted he sat back and his eyes fell on the scratches.

Coming close he saw....his son had written, Dad I love you....

How can we forget that people are meant to be loved and things are meant to be used. What a tragedy it is that people are being used and things are being loved.

the heart must go on .............

Remember that song...my heart is beating/ keeps on repeating/I'm waiting for you......

The truth is that like time and tide the beating of a heart waits for none..... and the heart beats for us alone....there is no romance but sheer mechanics that keeps the heart going on mysteriously and miraculously every moment without forgetting, without lazing....

This, my friends, is an email forward which came to me a couple of days from a friend. I found it so relevant that I decided to post it for all of you here.

FEMALE HEART ATTACKS --

THIS IS CRUCIAL, LIFE-SAVING INFORMATION FOR EVERY WOMAN.

If you've read this before, please be sure to pass on to your wives/female friends. If not, please take a minute. If could save your life or someone else's.

She said she didn't feel well and had a back ache and was going to lay down on the bed with the heating pad. A while later her husband went to check on her and she was not breathing. They were not able to revive her. This is something we women should definitely take seriously. Please pass this on to those you love.I was aware that female heart attacks are different, but this is the best description I've ever read .........Women and heart attacks(Myocardial infarction).

Did you know that women rarely have the same dramatic symptoms that men have when experiencing heart attack...you know, the sudden stabbing pain in the chest, the cold sweat, grabbing the chest & dropping to the floor that we see in the movies? Here is the story of one woman's experience with a heart attack.I had a completely unexpected heart attack at about 10:30 pm with NO prior exertion, NO prior emotional trauma that one would suspect might've brought it on. I was sitting all snugly & warm on a cold evening, with my purring cat in my lap, reading an interesting story my friend had sent me, and actually thinking, 'A-A-h, this is the life, all cozy and warm in my soft, cushy Lazy Boy with my feet propped up.' A moment later, I felt that awful sensation of indigestion , when you've been in a hurry and grabbed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with a dash of water, and that hurried bite seems to feel like you've swallowed a golf ball going down the esophagus in slow motion and it is most uncomfortable. You realize you shouldn't have gulped it down so fast and needed to chew it more thoroughly and this time drink a glass of water to hasten its progress down to the stomach. This was my initial sensation---the only trouble was that I hadn't taken a bite of anything since about 5:00 p.m. After that had seemed to subside, the next sensation was like little squeezing motions that seemed to be racing up my SPINE (hind-sight, it was probably my aorta spasming), gaining speed as they continued racing up and under my sternum (breast bone, where one presses rhythmically when administering CPR). This fascinating process continued on into my throat and branched out into both jaws. AHA!! NOW I stopped puzzling about wh at was happening--we all have read and/or heard about pain in the jaws being one of the signals of an MI happening, haven't we? I said aloud to myself and the cat, 'Dear God, I think I'm having a heart attack!' I lowered the foot rest, dumping the cat from my lap, started to take a step and fell on the floor instead. I thought to myself 'If this is a heart attack, I shouldn't be walking into the next room where the phone is or anywhere else......but, on the other hand, if I don't, nobody will know that I need help, and if I wait any longer I may not be able to get up in moment'I pulled myself up in the arms of the chair, walked slowly into the next room and dialed the Paramedics... I told the lady who answered that I thought I was having a heart attack due to the pressure building under the sternum and radiating into my jaws. I didn't feel hysterical or afraid, just stating the facts.... She said she was sending the Paramedics over immediately, asked if the front door was near to me, and if so, to unbolt the door and then lie down on the floor where they could see me when they came in.I then lay down on the floor as instructed and lost consciousness, as I don't remember the medics coming in, their examination, lifting me onto a gurney or getting me into their ambulance, or hearing the call they made to St. Jude ER on the way, but I did briefly awaken when we arrived and saw that the Cardiologist was already there in his surgical blues and cap, helping the medics pull my stretcher out of the ambulance. He was bending over me asking questions (probably something lie 'Have you taken any medications?') but I couldn't make my mind interpret what he was saying, or form an answer, and nodded off again, not waking up until the Cardiologist and partner had already threaded the teeny angiogram balloon up my femoral artery into the aorta and into my heart where they installed 2 side by side stents to hold open my right coronary artery.I know it sounds like all my thinking and actions at home must have taken at least 20-30 minutes before calling the Paramedics, but actually it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before the call, and both the fire station and St. Jude are only minutes away from my home, and my Cardiologist was already to go to the OR in his scrubs and get going on restarting my heart (which had stopped somewhere between my arrival and the procedure) and installing the stents.Why have I written all of this to you with so much detail? Because I want all of you who are so important in my life to know what I learned first hand:

1. Be aware that something very different is happening in your body not the usual men's symptoms, but inexplicable things happening (until my sternum and jaws got into the act ). It is said that many more women than men die of their first (and last) MI because they didn't know they were having one, and commonly mistake it as indigestion, take some Maalox or other anti-heartburn preparation, and go to bed, hoping they'll feel better in the morning when they wake up....which doesn't happen. My female friends, your symptoms might not be exactly like mine, so I advise you to call the Paramedics if ANYTHING is unpleasantly happening that you've not felt before. It is better to have a 'false alarm' visitation than to risk your life guessing what it might be!

2. Note that I said 'Call the Paramedics' ( 911 )! Ladies, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE! Do NOT try to drive yourself to the ER--you're a hazard to others on the road, and so is your panicked husband who will be speeding and looking anxiously at what's happening with you instead of the road. Do NOT call your doctor--he doesn't know where you live and if it's at night you won't reach him anyway, and if it's daytime, his assistants (or answering service) will tell you to call the Paramedics. He doesn't carry the equipment in his car that you need to be saved! The Paramedics do,principally OXYGEN that you need ASAP.Your Dr. will be notified later.

3. Don't assume it couldn't be a heart attack because you have a normal cholesterol count. Research has discovered that a cholesterol elevated reading is rarely the cause of an MI (unless it's unbelievably high, and/or accompanied by high blood pressure.) MI's are usually caused by long-term stress and inflammation in the body, which dumps all sorts of deadly hormones into your system to sludge things up in there. Pain in the jaw can wake you from a sound sleep.

Let's be careful and be aware

The more we know, the better chance we could survive.

image courtesy: flickr, cartoonstock and pioneer

i am gods favorite cup of tea.......

Sometime back a friend of mine sent an sms saying, "the true flavor of a tea is tested when put in hot water. So if you are feeling gloomy today, shed it off....you are God's own favorite cup of tea" .......Oh my God! it surely did put a smile on my face.

Osho had said somewhere once that heaven and hell are not geographical places... they are our states of mind. WE create them. I only realised the truth of the statement these last six- seven months.

I have visited this place called hell and its a very nasty place to spend a lifetime.....And nobody enters with you there and nobody ever can pull you out from this place.

I have cried, I have gone crazy, miserable, frustrated, anxious, tense and cried all over again...I did a lot of brooding on my imagined past bad karmas ....nothing helped. I stopped my meditations.

And then one day as if it was a miracle I pulled myself out of it.

Now I am back. Thank you my blogger friends ....each one of you... I am not mentioning the names here because so many of my friends wrote to me ....thank you so much for writing to me on my mail or the blogger and letting me know that though we may have never seen each other, though we may be having different national identities... there is something which keeps everyone connected.

And I am really happy to be back amongst you all. And I never want to get back to that place again. I may be still standing on the doorway...I dont know....maybe I havent run too far but definitely I have my back towards it... waiting for the big leap....ha ha ha that surely is a dream I watch every-day.

And thank you so much Osho for telling me this : "This is your life. If you laugh, you laugh. If you cry, you cry...no-one else is responsible for you. You alone are responsible for everything in your life."

was shakespeare a woman?

Act I, sc i
Enter jyotsana (hidden behind the curtains hudson and robin)
Friends, Romans, countrymen (never mind if you are neither of these)
just lend me your ears(and your eyes as well) that will do
I am fresh and back from a short vacation to Maharashtra
I gleefully read with glutton
all the comments you put in there on my last post
what ho! I am also back to talk about a woman in particular
god forbid
it’s a man in particular of infinite charms
O mistake me not friends for the Comedy of Errors
I am hitherto a blogger
but here is my Shakespeare
Good bloggers take heart
after my last two posts on love stories
do not you misjudge me
that I deviate from my sole purpose
but do confess here i
my own love affair with the man called Shakespeare
and the turbulence within of the most horrid kind
ever since my ears heard of the controversies raged
By John Hudson and Robin P. Williams
who mistake him for some Amelia Bassano or Countess of Pembroke
A foolish thought to utter

O the effect of Midsummer Night's Dream on these slumberous minds!
this cannot be by no assay of reason
that our Shakespeare be a woman
O why do you not leave him alone
the man who understood his women so perfectly well

Horrible villains I’ll unhair thy heads
or ill even sue you
(the modern way of unhairing people)
but if thou shalt retaliate
with thy thick volumes of research
I shall run away
what would a poor woman like me do
with a tiny heart
but I have a mind to strike thee on my blog ere thou speakest
and out-tongue thee thy most absurd intents

Alas what ignorant sin has a writer committed
to be subjected thus to the stings of an imperial critic
why oh why does critical literature become stronger than creative literature?
Heaven doth truly know it
that a a force creative is beyond all gender race and nationality
where does the writer offend the sensibilities of a critic so
that he dwells more on bisexuality, homosexuality
or a man or a woman Shakespeare
By heaven you do him wrong
Adieu.
Exit
(the post is not a deliberate invective against any-one and is only meant to amuse. the author apologises if any hurt caused to the new school of thought.)

tagged for the very first time

Can you hear me singing like Madonna…touched for the very first time…oh yyes I sure am so happy today. A blogger friend called sucharita considered me worthy enough to be tagged. So finally I am also tagged …ooops my blog is tagged ... oh the strange ways of this wonderful blogosphere…….and you naïve ones if you want to know what this tagging is then go ask others and come back and tell me... let me be happy for a while. I don’t know what this means but I am not a fool not to know that it surely is something very desirable in the blogging world.

Sucharita also thinks that I read a lot. well I do read but next to not at all. I think I am closer to what I wrote on the blue bicycle blog as a comment some time back that my own life reads like fiction to me these days.... ah this book called life! I read , I chew, I digest till it becomes me. Well sometimes its like a comic book ...too many dialogues and visuals with no story line or very little progression. I look for the page no. 123 but all the pages are locked with each other its difficult to say which is which. and in this endless chapter of life there is no fifth sentence, there are just two sentences the first which is always there and the first that is final.In fact some of my friends will even say that this whole life is a sentence! no puns intended.

But surely I need a book today like no other day. I am tempted to peep into one of Osho’s so that I can give you some nuggets of wisdom…but the rule sez what you are reading or whatever is next to you.
so ….
I look around fervently, sincerely, religiously…a book I must find and what I found strangely lying next to me is a book even more strangely written by me. And what was it doing there? It was picked up by me after it saw publication a year back for some references for the academic emergency for reading just two days back.

Here it goes like this…the name…That Inly Touch of Love, Shakespeare’s Women: A Psychological Insight. Its about all the comic books Shakespeare wrote as tragedies with the not so bold but very beautiful women in them. O Shakespeare lovers forgive me …remember the quality of mercy is like....well you know whatsit like.

sixth line onwards…

“Cleopatra stands transfigured on the brink of her death and is invested with a certain beauty and sublimity as she is emancipated from the constraints that she had built around herself , from the bourn that she had set and the imperfections that cling to human life.” ...................

Here are the friends I wish to tag (hmmm tagging them)

lady blue
sunshine
dawn
lynda lehhman
white rose

And now what you have to do is just the same…pick up a book that you are reading…open page 123…leave the 5 lines and begin with the sixth. also give the name of the author and the book …don’t forget to mention the name of the person who tagged you…and go ahead tag five others…

p.s. my server is causing me immense trouble. it has refused to serve me even for an hour a day.and i the never say die ...well lets see....

amrita - imroz a gospel of love

This is me and that is you and in the chasm is the dream
wrote a woman once of her relationship with the man she loved and lived with.

Some love stories reverberate like hymns in this universe. Love is a spiritual force in itself since it is a part of the inner world. In terms of events it happens between two people in a particular time and space but its fragrance spreads across time and space both.
Amrita-imroz A love Story is a contemporary love legend which Penguin India brought to the world. It is best described not as a story of a woman or a man but a biography of a love story penned by Uma Trilok who was fortunate enough to spend some precious moments with the lovers just before Amrita left her body on October 31, 2005 at the age of 86. Being a Reiki and Pranik healer, the writer formed close ties with Amrita and Imroz and what came out is a book which is so soothing that it takes you to yourself.
Love is a word which carries a halo around itself when used as a word. Ironically in societies that worship norms, love when it actually happens violating social icons is still a four letter word.
Amrita the rebel poetess remained faithful to the woman inside throughout her life. A mother of two children this woman created a furore in the society when she decided to spend her life with her lover Imroz a painter much younger than her. The woman had married earlier but had walked out on her `unfriendly husband' without a divorce.

Cuckoo my heart sings
My tongue suffers blisters forbidden
With pain I get ensnared

They lived together for 50 years, without marrying, under the same roof but in separate rooms. They believed that in a true relationship, no law is needed. Laws are made for irresponsible people.

Today I have sold a world
And bought a world of beliefs
I committed an act of blasphemy
I wove a bolt of dreams
Tore off a yard
And sewed a blouse for my life.

Though this woman was hailed as the doyenne of Punjabi literature which was celebrated in many other countries as well she had more detractors than admirers here. Most of her works pick threads and are coloured by her own life.

That was an ache
I smoked
And flicked off
A few poems as ash.

“We never said `I love you' to each other. It wasn't needed. What is love? Love is taking care of small-small things for each other. When we decided to live with each other in the early 1950s, we didn't let anyone interfere with our decision. I told her, `You are my society. I am your society'. And why do you call it live-in? Aren't others live-in relations?" As far as Sahir is concerned, he never asked her to come to him. If he had, she would have gone. And I would have respected her decision," says Imroz, forever smiling.

I can patch a sheet if torn
But can I stitch the sky
A husband dies I remarry
A lover dies, can I live

Imroz was a shadow, a confidante, a dedicated friend, a lover and a fakir in most ways. Egoless, self-assuming, a heart full of ibadat --- a love that is any woman’s dream.
'What do you like most of Amrita?' Uma asks Imroz.'Her presence.' He replies.

When Amrita’s body was being consumed by fire one is introduced to a stoic Imroz deeply in love still but detached.

"At the end of the deserted cremation ground, a few people were standing, silently staring at the burning pyre. Away from everybody, alone, standing in a corner, I spotted Imroz. Going close to him and touching his shoulder from behind, I muttered, "Don’t be sad." Somehow I always felt that Imroz would become very sad after Amrita’s death. He turned, and looking at me, said, "Uma, why be sad? What I could not do, Nature did."

Such words of wisdom and love because Amrita,s last years were painful for her body and death came to her like a liberator.

The following is the last verse that she penned for her lover.

I will meet you yet again

How and Where?

I know notPerhaps

I will become a

figment of your imagination and

spreading myself

in a mysterious line

on your canvas

I will keep gazing at you

Perhaps I will become a ray

of sunshine to be

embraced by your colours

I will paint myself on your canvas

I know not how and where

but I will meet you for sure

Maybe I will turn into a spring

and rub the foaming

drops of water on your body

and rest my coolness on

your burning chestI know nothing else

but that this life

will walk along with me

When the body perishes

all perishes

but the threads of memory

are woven with enduring specs

I will pick these particles

weave the threads

and I will meet you yet again

(The extracts of poems by Amrita Preetam are translations of her original poems in Punjabi.The prose in italics are from the book mentioned above.)