There are moments that spring to mind,
Distant memories
Of a time once ago;
That call us to tears or laughter.
Or perhaps to reveal
A silent, stolen smile from a lost moment.
Resonance of a simple note that strummed
In our heart the perfect chord
There are moments that leap out,
In inopportune flights of fancy.
A smile from a complete stranger,
Triggering recollection a familiar scent,
Etched in time and in soul;
A meaning lost to all but the beholder.
Resonating a simple note that stroked
Once in our souls the perfect chord.
Come such ebbing moments,
If only for the fleeting recollection
Of the begotten gains of a lost summer.
From a moment that was built
Upon another moment
In an endless cycle of forever more.
Truly the times are but moments that fade;
A once resounding perfection chord
Fading; a simple note no more...
- 28 September 2010
Personal ramblings on whatever makes the news and shakes my fancy. Reviews on stuff I have bought or used or experienced, and observations on people I have had the fortune to meet and life's epiphanies that have impacted my development and has made me ME.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Finality
Winter woes in morning shine,
The fog of a misty blanket;
Covers the landscape
Like an uninvited vise,
That reminds of death
Amidst the cold icy fingers of
Finality
Nature who is the mother;
Once the serenade of warmth
And reason
Has abandoned the maternal touch
For a grip more persistent,
So that we may all take heed the knell of
Finality
Tis the nature of the beast.
When the warm calling goes unnoticed
It transforms in the indifference;
To a tone that cannot be overlooked.
A mother’s wrath awakened;
In the chilling reality of
Finality.
The mother that once soothed and cared
Raises her tranquil veil,
To reveal the withered breast
And the battered heart that lies beneath.
The unsteady pulse of the heart beat
Tired and wavering to that last shaken throb of
Finality.
Is it too late mother?
Or has the last feather been cast off?
The camel in its might has relented
And Atlas grows old under his wretched load
Can there be hope for redemption?
Or has the gong been set for its last sob of
Finality?
Neither a cry nor a moan belated
Seems to soothe the pained mother;
Gone cold in a reluctant revenge of her neglect.
Alas, the mother that once coddled and cajoled
Is of the temperance of wit’s end and
Finality.
But a mother a mother be
And cannot look beyond the dreams
Of her children nor leave them
Whence they plead for a second chance.
But the battered spirit is weak
And tired limbs ache to let go to
Finality
Perhaps already too late
Is where we stand in the equation;
A silent protest is all we can offer
Since a weakened mother may not revive
In her spirit of yester-bygones, but
Only ready to greet the peaceful resignation of
Finality
The rhythmic pulse of regret,
Reconciliation and reluctant realization
To the frailty of our circumstance
We are not too late!
We are too late?
Perhaps only just not too late for
Finality.
- 13 February 2010
The fog of a misty blanket;
Covers the landscape
Like an uninvited vise,
That reminds of death
Amidst the cold icy fingers of
Finality
Nature who is the mother;
Once the serenade of warmth
And reason
Has abandoned the maternal touch
For a grip more persistent,
So that we may all take heed the knell of
Finality
Tis the nature of the beast.
When the warm calling goes unnoticed
It transforms in the indifference;
To a tone that cannot be overlooked.
A mother’s wrath awakened;
In the chilling reality of
Finality.
The mother that once soothed and cared
Raises her tranquil veil,
To reveal the withered breast
And the battered heart that lies beneath.
The unsteady pulse of the heart beat
Tired and wavering to that last shaken throb of
Finality.
Is it too late mother?
Or has the last feather been cast off?
The camel in its might has relented
And Atlas grows old under his wretched load
Can there be hope for redemption?
Or has the gong been set for its last sob of
Finality?
Neither a cry nor a moan belated
Seems to soothe the pained mother;
Gone cold in a reluctant revenge of her neglect.
Alas, the mother that once coddled and cajoled
Is of the temperance of wit’s end and
Finality.
But a mother a mother be
And cannot look beyond the dreams
Of her children nor leave them
Whence they plead for a second chance.
But the battered spirit is weak
And tired limbs ache to let go to
Finality
Perhaps already too late
Is where we stand in the equation;
A silent protest is all we can offer
Since a weakened mother may not revive
In her spirit of yester-bygones, but
Only ready to greet the peaceful resignation of
Finality
The rhythmic pulse of regret,
Reconciliation and reluctant realization
To the frailty of our circumstance
We are not too late!
We are too late?
Perhaps only just not too late for
Finality.
- 13 February 2010
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Wind chimes of reason
The silent breeze speaks but in a whisper
A soft waft of air that rings the chime
Teasing it to let out a tortured breath
Short, succinct like an escape of a forbidden moan
What does it all mean?
When meaning lies hidden in sounds
That betrays the passion of a whisper
In the absence of a whisperer…
The mind plays simple games
With an unsure conscience
A gentle reminder to a summer’s frolic
And an all too quick, stolen fondle
When the winds change direction
Or grow in gusty strength
It forsakes all modesty
To the greedy eye that lustily gazes
The mind begins to make slow sense
Of sounds that has been stringed with conditions,
Like a pampered pretender’s knot
Which belies false intentions and honest mistakes
When the silent breeze raises it voice
In the brute clanging of fornicating chimes
At these times sudden recollections give way
To bare naked realization of circumstance
Time is ripe for ritual surrender
For after-thought and retrospection
Cloudy hesitation giving way to clarity
When the pulsating air flushes out all confusion
As the breeze sighs its retreat
And the air stands to attention
It leaves behind an imagined echo
The released, final moan of the tired chimes
- 1 November 2009
A soft waft of air that rings the chime
Teasing it to let out a tortured breath
Short, succinct like an escape of a forbidden moan
What does it all mean?
When meaning lies hidden in sounds
That betrays the passion of a whisper
In the absence of a whisperer…
The mind plays simple games
With an unsure conscience
A gentle reminder to a summer’s frolic
And an all too quick, stolen fondle
When the winds change direction
Or grow in gusty strength
It forsakes all modesty
To the greedy eye that lustily gazes
The mind begins to make slow sense
Of sounds that has been stringed with conditions,
Like a pampered pretender’s knot
Which belies false intentions and honest mistakes
When the silent breeze raises it voice
In the brute clanging of fornicating chimes
At these times sudden recollections give way
To bare naked realization of circumstance
Time is ripe for ritual surrender
For after-thought and retrospection
Cloudy hesitation giving way to clarity
When the pulsating air flushes out all confusion
As the breeze sighs its retreat
And the air stands to attention
It leaves behind an imagined echo
The released, final moan of the tired chimes
- 1 November 2009
Sunday, 16 November 2008
The truth about democracy… Bangladesh style
As the dates 18 or 28 were in the air, it seems we may have settled with 29 (at least for the immediate meantime). I fear that another number may juggle itself into the circus that our political arena has become – only question is whether it will it be a 12 or 1?
One thing that looks so certain but doesn’t get said is that December or January, whichever way it plays out we need to find the right month (and date) when both parties can win. The point that these highly-intellectual advisers of the present interim (albeit, comfortably stretched) government and the appalled people in the Election Commission is missing is that in a reformed democracy – such as the kind we are hatching in Bangladesh, under the auspicious guidance of Sheikh Hasina Wajed and Begum Khaleda Zia – it is only a democracy when their respective party wins… which is what the ‘janagan’ wants in the first place.
Simple.
Now this situation would obviously baffle the average thinking person, who is clearly by that definition not part of the ‘janagan.’ So the time is right, again, for the average non-thinking person – the ‘janagan’ – to bring the party back in power.
It would seem that the very fact that we are looking at shenanigans (for want of a better term) that are slowing down the transition to the democratic process in the name of democracy is ludicrous to the nth degree! But that is only true for the average thinking person – but since the ‘janagan’ (which the average thinking person is not a part of) is ‘evolved’ and inline with reformed democratic principle, this delay is part of the evolution.
The simple heart of the matter is that should Party ‘A’ win the elections, it is not only a reflection of the resounding ‘people’s voice’ through the democratic process, but alas reason enough for Party ‘B’ to claim vote rigging and deem the results unacceptable as the ‘people’s voice’ has been stolen! This process is not discriminatory in any way (hence its ‘evolved’ incarnation) on which party actually wins, because the roles (as defined in by the reformed, evolved democracy rules being hatched, and only just being understood, in Bangladesh) are interchangeable. Simply put, should Party ‘B’ win instead, and bark the virtues of the democratic process that has anointed them crediting the roar of the people, it is now accepted (in fact, expected) that losing party can cry foul!
The difficult task at hand, for the perpetrators of the elections is finding a date when both parties can win and claim the prize. Again to the thinking person, it would be difficult to imagine such a possibility, which is why the country needs to go back in the hands of the non-thinking person for the sake of the ‘janagan.’
It is a moot point that it only is because it is the ‘people’ who are corrupt and underhanded, that our misunderstood leaders have entered into the muck and grime of corruption to sway the people back from the dark influences. Our misunderstood leaders have defaced their pure character for the love of the people. Only now is it evident that the very politicians that we have thrown in jail for corruption are the very politicians that are our true saviours – clearly they have proven their virtue and sincerity by the number of times that have performed the sacred Hajj (again for the blessing of the long suffering ‘janagan’ against the intellectual tyranny of the thinking person).
That we have been blessed by the gracious acquiesce of the apa of one party against a backdrop of defiance of the madam from the other is but democracy at work. Hartals, strikes, the ability to take up arms and sharp implements, burn cars and create havoc on the streets are only manifestations of an evolved democracy at play; the fragile democracy of opposition and mayhem, against the sinister plot for complacency and parliamentary debate. After all, our valued leaders have been elected to represent their god-ordained interests on the streets (that the ‘janagan’ wishes them to have) rather than debate in the interest of constituency and Constitution. Only a fool still clinging on to the misguided virtues of western-style democracy would think otherwise.
History has taught us that strikes and bandhs have pushed the British, and then the Pakistanis, out of the country… it has been these true and tested political tools that have subjected governments to topple and crippled their economies. Any one knows that a government that claims itself as pro-people and patriotic would rather step down than subject the economy to any more battering! A test by acid, indeed; one that subsequent governments have been put to test by the worthy opposition but have failed, to their shame.
The nation has had to suffer over the last two years, first the price of essentials were allowed to escalate beyond what economics would have us believe (because the government has allowed syndicates from BOTH parties to rule the markets and profit – when it was clear by the parties concerned that only ONE should have been allowed to); the country has passed in a state of emergency, and has proven difficult for a restless (jobless) people, accustomed to spontaneous mayhem on the street and blocked roads, to send their children to school and not have to worry about untoward incidents – to say nothing about no loss of the work week! (Thankfully, the all-supportive ‘janagan’ has risen to the occasion and created a bit of havoc once in awhile.)
But seriously…
The country has undergone several piecemeal changes – to debate the good or bad of those changes is irrelevant at this point, more so because after all the changes and reforms we are exactly where we were. I see no reason that the heads of the respective parties can still hold a nation to ransom owing to the ineptitude and cowardice of leader-followers who should know better.
Both leading parties have experienced politicians who probably have more political acumen and depth than the leader they wish to follow… yet for some inexplicable reason (hardly that really, since they are in it because they want to be ministers and feel that the legacy of the great departed leader runs far richer than their collective contributions to that legacy), they toe the line.
What is fascinating is that despite the allegations of corruption against these leaders, the time they have spent in jail on account of those allegations, has paradoxically, brought them back from political death. Suddenly we have them calling the shots again – with one only backing the present government and the elections because she thinks that she will win and the other protesting against an uneven playing field and calling to defer the elections simply because she thinks that she will lose.
To make matters worse we have them both trumpeting that the rules of the games – which allowed the morally and socially corrupt to contest the elections – remain unchanged in the name of democracy and fair play. What is more fascinating is also that now BOTH leaders are suggesting possibilities of vote rigging! (This may be of course to account for why they may lose the elections – after all it can’t possibly be their fault – and so that the people are prepared to see democracy at work and the streets are on fire immediately after the votes are in.)
In the end, whether it be 18, 28, 29, 12 or 1, however the numbers are juggled, sadly (as far as this thinking man is concerned) the ball is destined to fall but the circus is far from over.
One thing that looks so certain but doesn’t get said is that December or January, whichever way it plays out we need to find the right month (and date) when both parties can win. The point that these highly-intellectual advisers of the present interim (albeit, comfortably stretched) government and the appalled people in the Election Commission is missing is that in a reformed democracy – such as the kind we are hatching in Bangladesh, under the auspicious guidance of Sheikh Hasina Wajed and Begum Khaleda Zia – it is only a democracy when their respective party wins… which is what the ‘janagan’ wants in the first place.
Simple.
Now this situation would obviously baffle the average thinking person, who is clearly by that definition not part of the ‘janagan.’ So the time is right, again, for the average non-thinking person – the ‘janagan’ – to bring the party back in power.
It would seem that the very fact that we are looking at shenanigans (for want of a better term) that are slowing down the transition to the democratic process in the name of democracy is ludicrous to the nth degree! But that is only true for the average thinking person – but since the ‘janagan’ (which the average thinking person is not a part of) is ‘evolved’ and inline with reformed democratic principle, this delay is part of the evolution.
The simple heart of the matter is that should Party ‘A’ win the elections, it is not only a reflection of the resounding ‘people’s voice’ through the democratic process, but alas reason enough for Party ‘B’ to claim vote rigging and deem the results unacceptable as the ‘people’s voice’ has been stolen! This process is not discriminatory in any way (hence its ‘evolved’ incarnation) on which party actually wins, because the roles (as defined in by the reformed, evolved democracy rules being hatched, and only just being understood, in Bangladesh) are interchangeable. Simply put, should Party ‘B’ win instead, and bark the virtues of the democratic process that has anointed them crediting the roar of the people, it is now accepted (in fact, expected) that losing party can cry foul!
The difficult task at hand, for the perpetrators of the elections is finding a date when both parties can win and claim the prize. Again to the thinking person, it would be difficult to imagine such a possibility, which is why the country needs to go back in the hands of the non-thinking person for the sake of the ‘janagan.’
It is a moot point that it only is because it is the ‘people’ who are corrupt and underhanded, that our misunderstood leaders have entered into the muck and grime of corruption to sway the people back from the dark influences. Our misunderstood leaders have defaced their pure character for the love of the people. Only now is it evident that the very politicians that we have thrown in jail for corruption are the very politicians that are our true saviours – clearly they have proven their virtue and sincerity by the number of times that have performed the sacred Hajj (again for the blessing of the long suffering ‘janagan’ against the intellectual tyranny of the thinking person).
That we have been blessed by the gracious acquiesce of the apa of one party against a backdrop of defiance of the madam from the other is but democracy at work. Hartals, strikes, the ability to take up arms and sharp implements, burn cars and create havoc on the streets are only manifestations of an evolved democracy at play; the fragile democracy of opposition and mayhem, against the sinister plot for complacency and parliamentary debate. After all, our valued leaders have been elected to represent their god-ordained interests on the streets (that the ‘janagan’ wishes them to have) rather than debate in the interest of constituency and Constitution. Only a fool still clinging on to the misguided virtues of western-style democracy would think otherwise.
History has taught us that strikes and bandhs have pushed the British, and then the Pakistanis, out of the country… it has been these true and tested political tools that have subjected governments to topple and crippled their economies. Any one knows that a government that claims itself as pro-people and patriotic would rather step down than subject the economy to any more battering! A test by acid, indeed; one that subsequent governments have been put to test by the worthy opposition but have failed, to their shame.
The nation has had to suffer over the last two years, first the price of essentials were allowed to escalate beyond what economics would have us believe (because the government has allowed syndicates from BOTH parties to rule the markets and profit – when it was clear by the parties concerned that only ONE should have been allowed to); the country has passed in a state of emergency, and has proven difficult for a restless (jobless) people, accustomed to spontaneous mayhem on the street and blocked roads, to send their children to school and not have to worry about untoward incidents – to say nothing about no loss of the work week! (Thankfully, the all-supportive ‘janagan’ has risen to the occasion and created a bit of havoc once in awhile.)
But seriously…
The country has undergone several piecemeal changes – to debate the good or bad of those changes is irrelevant at this point, more so because after all the changes and reforms we are exactly where we were. I see no reason that the heads of the respective parties can still hold a nation to ransom owing to the ineptitude and cowardice of leader-followers who should know better.
Both leading parties have experienced politicians who probably have more political acumen and depth than the leader they wish to follow… yet for some inexplicable reason (hardly that really, since they are in it because they want to be ministers and feel that the legacy of the great departed leader runs far richer than their collective contributions to that legacy), they toe the line.
What is fascinating is that despite the allegations of corruption against these leaders, the time they have spent in jail on account of those allegations, has paradoxically, brought them back from political death. Suddenly we have them calling the shots again – with one only backing the present government and the elections because she thinks that she will win and the other protesting against an uneven playing field and calling to defer the elections simply because she thinks that she will lose.
To make matters worse we have them both trumpeting that the rules of the games – which allowed the morally and socially corrupt to contest the elections – remain unchanged in the name of democracy and fair play. What is more fascinating is also that now BOTH leaders are suggesting possibilities of vote rigging! (This may be of course to account for why they may lose the elections – after all it can’t possibly be their fault – and so that the people are prepared to see democracy at work and the streets are on fire immediately after the votes are in.)
In the end, whether it be 18, 28, 29, 12 or 1, however the numbers are juggled, sadly (as far as this thinking man is concerned) the ball is destined to fall but the circus is far from over.
Tuesday, 10 June 2008
Questions
What will the rains bring?
Will it bring solace that sates?
Will it quench the exhausting thirst?
Will it embrace the soil in fastidious copulation?
Questions that seek not answers,
But composed wisdom, long begotten.
The yin and yang of surrendered passion
Reveal answers raised much before the questions.
What will the winds do?
Will it lift the burden on the tired leaves?
Will scurry the stray paper to its final resting place?
Will it raise the dust cloud of riled misinterpretation?
Promised revenge in a bitter sweet mush soup
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
Faded and lost of colour,
When once it swore in all vigor.
What will the thunder say?
Will it spark up a darkened memory?
Will it claw through years of in-deference?
Will it clap the passing of silent moodswings?
Venture forth in brave anticipation
For a parting of minds, with no sorrow or tears
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
No more than taciturn sacrifice among the brambles.
What can the rains bring,
To a calcified constitution?
What can the winds do,
With a wavering promise?
What can the thunder say,
To a deaf premonition?
What can it all mean,
For a savior deeply tormented?
Questions that seek not answers,
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
For a savior deeply tormented.
- 10 June, 2008
Will it bring solace that sates?
Will it quench the exhausting thirst?
Will it embrace the soil in fastidious copulation?
Questions that seek not answers,
But composed wisdom, long begotten.
The yin and yang of surrendered passion
Reveal answers raised much before the questions.
What will the winds do?
Will it lift the burden on the tired leaves?
Will scurry the stray paper to its final resting place?
Will it raise the dust cloud of riled misinterpretation?
Promised revenge in a bitter sweet mush soup
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
Faded and lost of colour,
When once it swore in all vigor.
What will the thunder say?
Will it spark up a darkened memory?
Will it claw through years of in-deference?
Will it clap the passing of silent moodswings?
Venture forth in brave anticipation
For a parting of minds, with no sorrow or tears
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
No more than taciturn sacrifice among the brambles.
What can the rains bring,
To a calcified constitution?
What can the winds do,
With a wavering promise?
What can the thunder say,
To a deaf premonition?
What can it all mean,
For a savior deeply tormented?
Questions that seek not answers,
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
For a savior deeply tormented.
- 10 June, 2008
Monday, 31 December 2007
Silent night
Lost for words.
A silent rendition of the mute;
I find my thoughts don’t
Translate into sounds anymore.
A cacophony of images
That collides; within
The confines of my mind,
But to no avail or significance.
A silent scream of perpetuity
Lost in my sore throat;
Hoarse from yester-prayers
That belie my hidden emotions.
Random thoughts swirl in
A mix of truth and what ifs.
My mind reels; in the confusion
Of mind games in flux.
Words escape me
When my mind is made up
Of mush and melancholy;
But for what… eludes me.
Suffer in silence,
When all around is the din
Of glass shard after thoughts
And missed promises.
A new dawn beckons,
In the morn of hindsight.
For retrospection brings
Fortitude and dysfunction.
Tomorrow perhaps brings
Recollection of my mindset;
For mine voice to fly free
Like a long-caged mynæ in heat.
What do the words
Mean when cognizance is
But forsaken in light of
Misguided half-truths and misdemeanors?
Since silence dogs me;
Like half-bred English
Or forgotten day-old nestlings
Gawking in the cruelty of grim realization.
But then the quiet, quaking
Bud blooms in solitude.
To spread its moist petals outwards
Seductively revealing a teat raison.
Words elude my conscious
Being in surrender;
Wither the nest egg of
Promise offers release or comfort?
I am but what I deem
Within each struggling breath
The choices long made to reasons;
Never explored but made in pithy acceptance.
Hark say I to the
Echoes of past sins long forgotten –
Take me into thy sacred bosom
For feminine warmth and devotion.
What can be made
Of these words, that
Seemingly slip off an iced tongue
Like a dew drop on a blade of grass.
Fathomless depths
Implore me to jump to
The shadowy wings; for perhaps
Within those depths lie redemption.
And the sound of my inner vice.
My release,
My thunder,
My reconciliation…
A silent rendition of the mute;
I find my thoughts don’t
Translate into sounds anymore.
A cacophony of images
That collides; within
The confines of my mind,
But to no avail or significance.
A silent scream of perpetuity
Lost in my sore throat;
Hoarse from yester-prayers
That belie my hidden emotions.
Random thoughts swirl in
A mix of truth and what ifs.
My mind reels; in the confusion
Of mind games in flux.
Words escape me
When my mind is made up
Of mush and melancholy;
But for what… eludes me.
Suffer in silence,
When all around is the din
Of glass shard after thoughts
And missed promises.
A new dawn beckons,
In the morn of hindsight.
For retrospection brings
Fortitude and dysfunction.
Tomorrow perhaps brings
Recollection of my mindset;
For mine voice to fly free
Like a long-caged mynæ in heat.
What do the words
Mean when cognizance is
But forsaken in light of
Misguided half-truths and misdemeanors?
Since silence dogs me;
Like half-bred English
Or forgotten day-old nestlings
Gawking in the cruelty of grim realization.
But then the quiet, quaking
Bud blooms in solitude.
To spread its moist petals outwards
Seductively revealing a teat raison.
Words elude my conscious
Being in surrender;
Wither the nest egg of
Promise offers release or comfort?
I am but what I deem
Within each struggling breath
The choices long made to reasons;
Never explored but made in pithy acceptance.
Hark say I to the
Echoes of past sins long forgotten –
Take me into thy sacred bosom
For feminine warmth and devotion.
What can be made
Of these words, that
Seemingly slip off an iced tongue
Like a dew drop on a blade of grass.
Fathomless depths
Implore me to jump to
The shadowy wings; for perhaps
Within those depths lie redemption.
And the sound of my inner vice.
My release,
My thunder,
My reconciliation…
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