Kubla Khan (1816)

I had an amazing English Lit. teacher (yes you harmony!) in my last two years of school... and amongst many things she taught me, in and out of class... at some point she brought this for us to read and work on... Kubla Khan... who knows what about it caught my eye... but from the first time i read it in class... from those 2 hours we worked on it... the endless times i re read it and she spoke about it... told us how it got written... why it wasnt ever completed... I fell in love with it...

today all of a sudden i thought of it again.. and realised i hadnt read it in a long time... i could barely remember what it was about or why i liked it... but i guess it doesnt really matter why... thats something i love about some kinds of poetry... you dont have to have a reason to enjoy it... well, here it is... for whoever wants to read it... and for me, whnever i want to read it...

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.


-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Showreel

Finally managed to create a short showreel of my theatre and dance-drama work to send as part of my Uni application... check it out... this is the youtube link... please feel free to comment....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmI21Ofqwok

Humanity, the nightmare (viewer discression adivised)

I havent had the chance to re read this and edit or correct it in any way... so please excuse the errors or anything else...

[03-10-08]

I had a nightmare last night. One that was very unlike the ones iv had before... in this one there was no dual presence, with one me inside the story and the other watching from the outside, aware that this is only a dream... there was no knowledge at all that it wasnt real... it was too vivid and palpable for that... it resembled reality too much for the thought to have even occurred... and thats what made so much more frightening when i thought about it this morning.

I couldnt help but think about it all morning. Where it came from and what it was supposed to mean. The answer to the former i think i know now... the past couple of weeks have been full of frustrated conversations about the hateful and uncompassionate world we live in as a result of a reading various horrid stories from the newspaper every morning... and the list of is extensive; the Bihar victims, the unending bomb blasts around the country, the reviewing of the 2002 riots and the Nanavati commission report, the manipulation of the naive and stupid minds of our people, Sarah Palin proudly announcing that every American should be allowed to own a gun, the very real possibility of the nuclear deal and the ease with which it can be misused, hearing that 17 female fetuses had been found in a garbage can in Gujarat; many mangled by hungry strays, the countless stories of rape ranging from professors raping (and blackmailing) entire groups of female students in colleges to uncles raping their 6 month old nieces... these are only naming a few... enough to explain where this particular dream found its fuel...as for the second question, what it means... i have no idea... and for some reason, i know there is a part of me that is afraid of knowing the answer.

Now for dream...
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I found myself in the middle of some kind of huge graduation party... it was the middle of the night and there must have been over 200 students... drinking, dancing, talking loudly, trying to be heard over the music... some talking in groups in quieter corners.. others lined up on the low ledge of a wall, only their silhouettes and lit cigarettes visible to those who bothered to look... walking through the crowd i overheard names that i knew... the names were of two girls that had gone missing from college one day a little over a month ago and i knew they still hadnt been found... i assumed the conversation had come up as it was their batch that was graduating... the party kept going, with people getting more and more drunk and the dancing becoming more and more stupid... how long it was before i saw the light of the projector come on reflecting off the outer wall of the main building im not sure... the first couple of seconds of the video were unclear. Shaky images of hands and even a glimpse of faces. It was as if the camera was already rolling while someone was trying to attach it to its tripod... I realised people had noticed the new source of interest and were walking towards the building to get a better view of whatever it was that was going to be screened. I started to move forward too. Seeing as it was less crowded at the sides i found my way to a spot where i could climb atop a large block of stone where a few others were already perched to get a decent look... The sound came on with a loud crackling noise and the gruff voices of two or maybe three men swept across the crowd, bringing an instant silence... The men were mumbling, making it hard to understand what they were talking about... but even so, there was an unmistakable slur that was heard in all three's voices. It was pretty obvious they were drunk... At this point all we could see on screen were the men's legs. Two in jeans, one in army shorts. The room was not dark. There was harsh white light pouring out of some other room into the one they were in...
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(I dont know if i can continue telling this story... i might have to wait till tomorrow to try... the tears are making it hard to see the letters on the screen...)

[04-10-08]

i tried to continue writing the story... but my insides turn every time i even attempt to remember what happened next... i know what did... but to continue writing like that would mean to really see it again... shut my eyes and let the images that terrify me reassemble inside my mind... i cant do it... i cant let myself be part of that night anymore... but i will finish the story... just not in the way it should be told... it might not seem as real as it did in the first part, for i must skip all details... or at least try, for my own sake... i haven't even begun and i can feel my heart beating like a drum against my chest... so let me just get this over with...

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Before they realised what had happened they heard muffled screaming... two women... the voices were familiar to some... others only realised it was the missing girls when the men finally moved, giving the crowd their first view at something that would haunt them... and me... for a very long time. The two girls were tied up to two tables that were made to stand vertically... the rope holding their hands and legs apart cut through their wrists sending trickles of blood down their arms, over their stripped bodies, down to the floor... their faces were tired and colourless, glistening with tears.... Their eyes pleading and helpless... shirts gagging both with only enough room for their muffled screams that had been heard... But there were no gasps... no one screamed... no one pointed and whispered in disgust or anger or disbelief ... the silence was deafening... and the thought of what could come next as the clean metal knives the men were holding by their sides came into view, left the crowd in a horrified silence. Throats too dry to speak... chocked with tears they watched as the men grinning in triumph circled the girls... running the cold blade across their faces... and then their necks... their breasts... stomachs... all the way down to their feet, leaving thin marks that ran all the way down... Their was a shuffling of feet as people began to back away... some looked around helplessly, hoping someone else knew what to do... the men continued... their knives digging deeper and deeper with every stroke... laughing at their game...
By the time someone managed to push their way through the panicking, screaming crowd to stop the video the two girls were barely conscious... torn... bleeding... mutilated ... He found the projector cable and jerked it out of its socket, leaving the crowd with nothing but darkness...
------------


As the days go on the images are fading little by little, loosing focus. The details are being lost... but the feeling? The feeling remains... clear as day... The feeling has squirmed its way deep inside me... buried itself in my center... and it continues to send out waves of fear and disgust...

I know i have heard stories like this one before and yet not been this troubled by it.... but i know why this is different... these were not words... not typed up in some newspaper by some random journalist... not edited with all the 'improper' details left out... this was right here, inside me... i saw every bit... and these images are harder to ignore than any words have ever been...

This is our reality today... i could be that girl and so could any of the people i know... and if this is not how one of us gets it... it will be something else... there are more negative forces than there are people who can fight them... this is my reality... and sometimes it makes me want to not live at all... but most of the times it reminds me to fight... to be one more source of strength to the correct side... and thats how i get by.

Schedule for the next 2 weeks!

The Leopard

A beautiful story of compassion... the kind of compassion one wishes us humans had more often... a video really worth sharing...

Today.... umm.... i dont know...

Soooooo... i figure if iv temporarily lost my writing skills, il at least put up the drawings iv been trying my hand at to ease my mind! At least this way my blog is still up to date right!! :-)

From the last two days...

Soft reactions to hard situations...

This... like everything else i seem to begin writing, is incomplete... but then again... thats what life feels like right now... so it works... ever changing... ever challenging... but hopefully, not forever incomplete!

Sometimes the world talks to me
tells me not to give up, give in.
Sometimes the world talks to me
and her voice alone i want to hear.

Everything i have learnt is her teaching.
The person i am, an illustration of her genius.
Now I no longer fear not being understood,
For those who loved me taught me to love myself.

Life has been kind to me, i do not complain
But i know hardships come in many forms
The hardest of tests are given to the strong.
Strong who become stronger, as i have.

The walls of my life often close in,
The doors lock themselves, keyless.
The voices inside are unintentionally yours
and i am convinced to do only it's bidding.

The walls of my room may seem a prison,
But these are the walls protecting me.
Inside i am myself, someone very few see.
Inside, i wish to be alone, even with another.

What is it with some songs and the effect they have on us. Im stuck on one particular one right now, its from the second Aladdin movie, Return Of Jafar. The song is called Forget About Love... go figure! Over the last say, 3 days i think iv heard it over a couple of dozen times... yes, a couple of dozen!! And here i go again putting it on my itunes single repeat mode!! Im going between singing Jasmine, Aladdin and Iago's parts... all that at the moment seem equally relevant to me... which is funny cause the Iago is saying exactly the opposite of the other two... but then again... thats what love does to you right...! Im used to singing Aladdin's part alone, as my ex used to sing Jasmine's part... this is of course where the problem lies i suppose... the absence of another singing voice... both metaphorically and literally speaking... as for Iago... ummm... I'v never sung any songs that he was in... till now i guess!!

Why do i do it? im wondering about that myself... if one were to see me do it... well, lets just say.. its quite a show... especially when im trying to be two characters at the same time... sometimes i just cant decide see...! Anyway, i get all into it and dance around (when the space permits)... make all the right expressions and sing better than usual, as most do when there is no one really watching... then of course, an hour ago i got caught doing a sober version of this in a rickshaw... yeah yeah, i got carried away okay...!

Here is what im thinking, sometimes its cause your hearing what you really want to but no one will tell you cause its not going to happen for you... i know that one sucks big time... if its not this one your on another stage, it'l be because your hearing something you want to say to that person (a lot of times this stage has painful, angry and even hateful music) or of course, when u dont have the courage to say how you feel and thats why... (ps. if its the last one, sing it to her/him... always works!! :-P ).

anyway, the point of all of this... im reminding myself why I love music so much and why its so important to me... it really does help a lot of the healing and growing that we think we have to do alone...!

(CHECK OUT THE VIDEO OF THE SONG...!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMrbT4Ycv1A&feature=related )

The patriot, not me...

A couple of months ago a close friend asked me if I was a patriot. The answer was an instant and definite no! The conversation fizzled out eventually though leaving me with a lingering thought of why this word did not apply to me. I care deeply for my country, I am committed to making it into a country that I can love and be proud of. I feel that the responsibility of making it reach its potential is every individual’s and mine and that running away and settling abroad for a better pay (what they call the brain drain) is being escapist!

Unfortunately, I have come to think of the word patriot as akin to extremist. This I blame on the connotations the world around me have attached to it. Patriots are those who beat up a fellow Indian because they have an opinion that breaks away from the norms of our society or what Hindus call themselves when trying to purge those who believe in another or no god. Patriotism to me is intolerance.

On the other hand I have to say that in the last year I have realised that many of my friends and acquaintances, most of whom are still finishing their education, seem to agree with my views on India and are almost as committed as me to making India a place they want to live in. This change of heart and sudden absence of the need to leave a.s.a.p came as a surprise to me but is encouraging and hopefully will be an inspiration to others. It’s a very comforting thought that I wont be the only one fighting this battle, I never said it was going to be an easy one!

It’s all very well for people to point fingers and blame each other and usually the government for everything that’s wrong with the country, but they make it sound like we have our own Wizard of Oz sitting in a booth somewhere flicking switches to make things happen. Well guess what, we don’t (!), and it’s as much up to the average Tom, Dick and Harry, or Raju, Rani and Rakesh in our case to ‘be the change you want to see in the world’ as Gandhiji said and personally, I think sometimes all it takes is to be true to yourself and be brave enough to be an individual who cares...

The first morning...

I awoke from my exhausted collapse, that which was nothing like sleep. The lump that was my body took up no more that a quarter of the bed, the side of my face still moist from the damp pillow it still lay on. How I moved across the room, unable to stand, barely to crawl, I am unsure. My head of lead denied me balance of any kind, stooping forward dangerously…

My mind drifted in and out of consciousness on the floor where I had stopped. Time took its own course, one that took no notice of my sorry state. Once again I drifted away only to find myself stumbling out of a cold shower hours later and dressing myself. How I got there I do not know, I remember feeling dirty inside and too clearly the fear of the growing pile of my things on the new wooden floor as they left where they had been…

Walking along the winding pathways, endless and recurrent, one step at a time, one breath at a time, my fathers voice continued to give me the will to move as it had done earlier that day…

As I sit from pain my insides do not relax, this pain I realize does not stem from my muscles. It radiates from somewhere beneath, through my lungs, nose and throat until I am coughing and gasping for breath. The choking is from a tight grip closing around my neck. The hand is of my own making, a creation of my veiled thoughts. I attempt to find the source of this pain and hope that it is not from the inside but from the ground that it makes its way into me…

All this while I have been watching myself struggle. I have left that body but can feel what it feels. But the empty shell is not only missing the part of me that is floating above its head, for I feel empty too. Sick and unable to re-enter that sad self again, I am unable to be the person beneath me. The person I am supposed to be. It seems my mind and heart has for once chosen the same path. One that is so far in the opposite direction from where I am headed that it has separated itself, only to realize I am now in two, yet stuck in the same place…

I float right in front of my body, for the first time daring to look at myself from anywhere but above. I see there is a hole in my centre from where my soul is leaving my body. My soul is leaving me in search of her. Leaving me, for her.

Words of love...

Listening to love songs
as i sing along
in my head, she tells me
stories of broken hearts,
lives, desecrated lands
she reads from pages
inside her
lyrics of rebellion
we can share
no words of love
she speaks
though she sings
no words of love
written, given
no words of love
inspired to create
and write, give
i hit repeat as it ends
and she goes on
no words of love...

Krishna nee begane...

There is something about Krishna that warms my insides. Something that has entered my body and is resting in my mind. Something from the words i was told as a child and am told even today. The love in her eyes when she talks of him in her childhood and how her lips mouth his name as tears stream from her eyes in pain and even in gratitude. Her lover and life. Krishna the playful child. The handsome blue god.

But krishna was a player, a trickster, more than only in a playful childish way. He broke hearts as gods and men do. He was a liar and chose sides, fought wars that weren't his to fight. Yet as i think of him knowing all this, knowing in my head he was not the flawless and just creature he is made out to be... a part of me wants to close my eyes and sing...

'Krishna nee begane, baaro...'

Life and loss

Today i found out that a good friend of mine lost someone really dear to him... it was sudden and no one could have known it was coming... but just like that, it happened... and nothing could stop it...

What im about to write is just a reminder to myself and everyone who stumbles upon this here about some things we tend to forget... we all know life and death i something we cant fully comprehend, death especially... and thats why it is important to remember and do certain things... like who you are... who you want to be, and to be that person no matter what the odds... do the things you really want to do... do things that make you happy... and even if they dont make others happy... sometimes you need to do them anyway... put yourself and your needs first... and know that that doesn't mean being selfish and ignoring others needs... stop taking the world for granted... stop taking the people around you for granted... say what you want to say, what you really mean... dont hide... dont keep your ideas and opinions hidden inside you... dont be afraid of the world... as scary as it is... tell everyone you hate that you hate them and why.... especially the ones that have hurt you and used you... if strength falters and it still hurts inside, then tell them that too and let them know you aren't afraid of admitting it... be proud of who and what you are and dont blame it all on yourself, it might really be their fault after all, just like your friends keep telling you ... believe that a lot of what happens is just chance... and bad (or good) timing! And the two most important things... be with people who make you smile... with people you truly love... dont let anyone tell you who that can be... if being the only human and having 10 dogs makes you happy... then live like that... Dont listen to people who tell you what the right thing to do is.... know that there is no one right thing... fall in love... not once but over and over again... and when you are in love... let the feeling run through every inch of your body and dont waste a single minute of it... tell that person and all those you love and who love you how much they mean to you.... remind them every day.... dont think it will get tedious or repetitive... it wont... making someone feel loved is as important as feeling it yourself... and when you tell someone you love them... make sure you really mean it!

Im not saying life is short ... it may be... it may not... but lets just not forget that everyone isn't as privileged as us and not everyone is given the opportunity to be happy... so lets try and make the most of it...