Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Raisonneur(s)

            … and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
That they are not a pipe for fortune’s finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion’s slave and I will wear him
In my heart’s core—aye, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

Hamlet’s words for his friend and raisonneur, Horatio. As I miss the character of Hamlet today, I know the play calls for another reading which I suppose will get tended to soon. But let me first dedicate this post and its quote to all those who could relate to the position of Hamlet, reading these lines. The presence of a calm friend who listens when it is needed the most is a measure of great strength indeed.

Monday, June 20, 2011


This is in response to my friend's beautiful postcard-pictures to inspire and create something in return.

And so I have; come up with a spontaneous verse I hope to have justified with the effort spent behind the camera. The title of the poem is not mine; for it got 'inspired'.

     In love again

Is it the breeze that instills

Rustling wind of the reeds,

Or nature's light which fills

My prism'd heart, a vibrance of beads.

I do not quite know

What it brings on its wings.

But my vision is worth the glow

Astride a pathless trail when it sings.

Sings it the song I once loved at school..

Brings it along the wonders that belong.

Fills it forevermore the fields we then thronged..

Sees it I imagine once again my lost jewel.

Through the stone-streets have I walked.

Treaded many a witness to the fields.

But lo! the hut calls me thither again,

'Blue of the sky' is what it takes to shield

A thousand greens a multitude of blue..

Brings forth the smile to the corner of my eyes,

In love and love alone lies my life's clue...

Carousels of delight emanate from the skies...

At evening do I wonder where my love is leading me...

To the meadowy spaces swings the call of my mind.

Zephyrs know no bounds to romance the cloudy spree.

Will, wattles, the walnut tree roots of love do find.

'In love again', in the sun again..

Being with all that is you gives delight...

Dusk is near and its twilight again...

To kiss, bid love in sleep and flight.


Saturday, June 18, 2011

Remembering with rememberance of words

On the first death anniversary of José Saramago, I can't help but remember and reminisce the worlds of words he so perseveringly weaved into narratives which, to me, are blessed with the author's literary voice that has forever become a part of my understanding of human existence. Replete foremostly with human emotion and an ever so patient motherly touch in such unforgettable characters like Blimunda, Lydia and Death, each book of his I have picked and read so far, has made me feel more rooted into the ground we all need to stand upon. Abound with astounding imagination, Saramago's writing could easily be credited with playing a conscious role of constantly contesting 'our' sense of reality (as well as illusion).

     The run-on sentence with an aural felicity beckons a reader's delight (provided the reader is able to give in wholly to the perspectival imagination of the written word). Challenging the notions of the world we inhabit, Saramago's books can truly be said to have started once they finish with our first reading.

Here's quoting words by him which do not fail to fill holes hearts could be found with...

"We use words to understand each other and even, sometimes, to find each other."

"Reading is probably another way of being in a place."

"Your questions are false if you already know the answer."

"Liking is probably the best form of ownership, and ownership the worst form of liking."

"Words that come from the heart are never spoken, they get caught in the throat and can only be read in one's eyes."

"One cannot be too careful with words, they change their minds just as people do."