The me in me

Scrolling through the back pages
Looking for old words for the (re)new
Written I thought they were in past
When I wasn’t in need of them

Words gone missing, remaining truth
A human, mortal that I am
Even the great Achilles had heels
Look me through the prism of heart

Who would ever be blameless
When it was Plato, defended slavery
A human, mortal that I am
Born to fall and get up

In the spirit of human
The sins of times variable
Judge me for the me in me
Not the one you do see

Awaiting the rising of rainbow
Until it was per the ‘dreamers’
Till we decry sinner with the sin
Judge me for the me in me

Donna

How the winds are laughing,
they laugh with all their might.
Laugh and laugh the whole day through,
and half the autumn night.

In the village remote
just above the sight, a crow flies
Down below, the mighty land,
the mournful chicken in a coop lies

“Stop complaining!” said the owner,
“Who told you a chicken to be?
You got wings and yet you don’t fly,
like the crow so proud and free?”

Boulders tiny, stacked so light,
you could never brush aside
O my Donna, not your life
Be the crow, so smart and snide

Chicken are stopped and slaughtered,
never knowing the reason why.
But whoever treasures freedom,
like the crow, has learned to fly.

PS : Inspired from this amazingly beautiful song by the indomitable Joan Beaz

A poem on poems

It could be the manner of a moment
Or may be the word of life greatest
I do write one just on the clouds
They did prophesize Geeta in words poetic

Playwright could extract a pound flesh
Novelist great might wring Great Expectations
Story we read of Magi’s gift most beautiful
Great, nonetheless, were just the tales of us

Shruti, the treasure of hindus
Illiad, Odyssey, identity of civilisations
Dante and divine beginning
Chaucher the father with canterburry

Nobel 29% only gained for poetry
Story of literature, but never else began
Its a poem that gives you wings
Mankind’s divine tool to concieve

Burden rich of character development
Pressure of finding ending binding
The hook to move to Act next
Novel, Story, or in a Play mighty

Flight of poem needed no hook
For No One is a poem best told
For No way is a poem’s best way
For a poem may not tell you all
For a poem will vary its layers
The tale of a poem can never be told
For a poem is the one only ‘you’ live

When will I meet you?

The mornings with your sniff
The expectant wait fulfilled
Waking up in your arms
Goosebumps of your brush
All I shall cherish again
When I will meet you

The long wait burning me
You living with the forests
Missing romance of your feel
Pervading the windy winter nights
When will I meet you?

My cheeks be flushed with colour
With your magical touch
Looking to dress cool with you
Oh what hills I’d climb
The highest of joys I’d have
When I will meet you

Dreams i saw in your arms
How long shall i bear unfulfilled
This separation afar
Meets 2 in year never suffice
When will I meet you?

My betrothal my current place
All thats keeping you away
The question wringing my heart
When will i meet you for life
My darling Himalayas…

Beyond : Buddha

Long before our times he came
The Chakravartin with curly hair
Light of Asia was he called
Born to rule or liberate humanity
As would be his wont

In the life of you
Miseries of the post modern small
Looking at the light he showed
8 ways to leave your suffering
No expectations – he said
And that’s all you did

But the one question you still had
Is that, what you live for?
The samsara did have son and wife
Being the buddha was his wont
But a dead ascetic, not your middle path

Born and dead, a cycle they say
But, Go for Middle, what he said
A life of constant is deed great
Bow to him for teaching that
But, the answers blowing in the wind
Beauty greatest comes from love and pain
To be dead is kill expectations
Sinusodial of life you prefer

Casteism be not your chasm
Your pain is life and love
4,8,32 the numbers he gave
No, math didn’t stop there
You lookout for platform 9 3/4
Working to irrationalise the perfect

Honey does stay millennia 5 and half
But wisdom aged 2k might be stale
Your tale can’t be his
Its the journey of you
For you, the one who shall go, Beyond..

Beyond : Tagore

Wither not ye weary traveller of post modern
The tomes of past you knew
The shoulders you stood upon
For they, lights shining of their age
The story none told beyond him
The clarion call to “ekla cholo”
When none listens to “tor daak”

O ye weary traveller of post modern
The walk you began alone
His Metered verse shrouding you
As you reminisce journey alone
The walk solo you see nowhere
Not just the ekla walk you took
A long and Winding Road you took with few

Well ye weary traveller of post modern
You to have the strength
To start The Long Walk alone
Shall forever be the gift of bard
Its your journey that teaches
The courses to take
And folks to tag along

Now ye weary traveller of post modern
A journey can start alone
Voyage none ended alone
What you never knew
In those darkest nights
For every rock moved
You open a new light

But ye weary traveller of post modern
The journey was never done
None has yet finished the trail
Your tale can’t be his
Its the journey of you
For you, the one who shall go, Beyond…

Boy who yearned to talk

Once upon a time

With the blessings of thyme

Lived a boy who yearned to talk

Blessed octogenarian or a child small

Entertaining ’em all fell in his happy domain

 

And, if stars were aligned

He could talk a challenge or two

Emboldened by his speaking prowess

Headache once he gave, as a challenge

A friend who spent his teenage without the range

 

In the great magnetic field

Opened were the strings of time

When he travelled time, a decade apart

Gift of gab was gone with the fervour of life

Stood the Iron Man, dazed with a callous psyche

 

And yet, the birds do fly

Can he, wonders he, the man

Lit a room with a laugh boisterous

Or a saunter through an afternoon siesta

Mauled where the sleepiest be, with token of fun

 

And so, decade anew comes

Tidings shall turn as passes time

Brooding philosopher with a dog and books

Or be he, man of world, dancing in a room on top

He’ll do it, read and dance, and in the course, future decide

Gandhi and his Civil Disobedience

It was the winter of 1930, almost 90 years ago. Millions of underprivileged Indians, were trying to bear the cold wave with scanty resources at hand. But the political atmosphere in India was nowhere close to being cold. Political diaspora was abuzz with excitement. Simon Commission had come and gone. under the Presidentship of Jawaharlal Nehru, tri-colour was unfurled and a call for ‘Poorna Swaraj’ was given by INC in its Lahore session in Dec’29. Britishers had done their bit in antagonising, INC had done its bit. Now, every eye in the nation, Indian and Britishers alike, was looking at just one man, and waiting for His call to action.

But the man, commonly known as Bapu, was a wily fox. He wasn’t to be moved by the emotional turmoil into a hurry despite the cajoling of a whole nation. Instead, the man, who had recently turned 60, just retired to his ashram in Sabarmati to contemplate over the _possibility of launching_ an agitation. The young nationalists not to be shut down by the Old man, decided to observe 26 January 1930 as Independence Day with a series of meetings across urban and rural India. The final push or perhaps the end of his sadhana, we will never know. At last, Gandhi sprang into action with a memorandum to Lord Irwin on 31 January. The memorandum, contained 11 points varying from Prohibitions, Right to Carry Arms, reduction of exchange ratio, tax on salt, reduction of various expenditures like military, salaries, coastal shipping rights, condemnation of political prisoners, abolition of CID.

As well intentioned and wide appealing as these demands were, none could make any sense of the demands in the times of heightened political anticipation. Looking at it in retrospect, 90 years down the line, we can easily guess what he was getting at, but at the time, it would have been a mystery to friend and foe alike. The magic of how these seemingly innocuous demands turned into a powerful pan India movement forcing the passing of Government of India Act,1935 by the British parliament, is the essence of Gandhi.

The way Gandhi acted through the hot winter of 1929-30 to the eventual breaking of Salt Law followed by the epic Dandi march gives us more than a few lessons. Some of the points that we can learn from this bracket, I have tried to list below:

1. Timing and theatrics – Mass mobilisation is all about how you can connect with the people and Gandhi was the master at this! Congress call for Poorna Swaraj, observance of Independence Day, were symbolism of new age. But when Gandhi came, he brought his own new dimensions. A peaceful march of 400 kms through the Indian hinterland with a select band of 78 Satyagrahis from all parts and sections, was a managerial nightmare no administration would want to face. Through 24 days of walking, 10 miles a day, Satyagrahis covered a distance of 384 kms from Sabarmati Ashram to Dandi, thereby giving the press, both Indian and International, enough time and material to report on the Mahatma waging war against the mighty British with a walking stick. We have had great orators who have moved millions with their call, most notably his contemporary, a certain Adolf Hitler. And yet, this man, leading a nation of 350 million towards their tryst with destiny quite literally moved them from their homes to the sea. The pot-pourri of 24 days was the perfect pressure cooker for Indian populace to unite in an all drawn battle against the British. The morning of 6th April, Gandhi just added _salt to taste_ and brought the country to boil with his _Soul Force_. Added to all this, one can only imagine, the influence he would have exercised on the multitude he met over the course of this march.

2. Planning – The 11 demands as listed by Gandhi would seem to be more of a hogwash when looked at from the lens of Poorna Swaraj. But, when seen through keener eyes of a political observer, we begin to realise the genius and ingenuity of the man. A mass movement needs the masses, goes without saying but a prolonged and sustainable movement of any sort also requires the resource base provided by the sympathetic rich, the industrialists of the day. Thus, while his concern was always the common man. But, his list also contained 3 demands specifically for the capitalists which referred to Rupee-Sterling exchange ratio, Textile protection and reservation of coastal shipping. Abolition of salt tax, reduction of land revenue were intended for the peasantry. Reduction in civil and military expenditure, abolition of CID etc were for the populace as a whole. Demand for release of political prisoners was in line with the milieu. Right to carry arms was a clarion call for self-respect. These non-political demands served the political purpose much more than any other means, With the alignment of national interests with the interests of different sections of the society, Gandhi ensured heart felt support across the spectrum. For the first time, Industrialists were in active support of the nationalists during Civil Disobedience movement. It was the Gujarati baniya buddhi which kept thinking of innovative solutions which held him in good stead through his life.

3. Autocracy – Gandhi is quite frequently blamed for being an autocrat. I am quite inclined to agree with the assessment. My way or the highway was quite often the case with him, bending nationalists, INC or the people as per his wishes. That, was perhaps a character flaw, but, it will always remain a conjecture, if, and how much successful would a less staunch Gandhi be against the British, his unflinching resolve was perhaps the greatest strength of his Satyagraha. And yet, there is one point, which manifests on a deeper understanding. Gandhi’s means were more of Highway or My way, he always gave the option to the party rather than ordering the party out of his domain. True to his training as a lawyer, his calls to action, carried an implicit contract between him and his fellow Satyagrahi and any breach would effectively be loss of trust and he would dissociate himself with the party rather than ousting them, (Netaji, might be looking at this line in a frowning sort of way!) which is what he most frequently did with Congress or most famously after Chauri Chaura.

4. Strength of Character – They say, it takes courage to stand against your enemy, but infinitely more courage is required to stand up against your own men, especially when they trust you to the extent of worship. If Gandhi was a man of masses, he also had the courage to stand up to them if they strayed from the path of right. Even this time, he was not to be lured into action due to inducement by the people and INC until he didn’t believe in the timing and efficacy of the act that he was about to initiate.

 

In the 150^th year of his birth, we might think of taking the man out from our wallets and bring him and his teachings into our lives. In a world loaded with single minded democratic autocrats, we might look at the inclusivity, the staunchness of that gentle autocrat who wielded a walking stick and frail body as his only weapon and yet, went on to tame the Shrewdest of Shrews!

Respect

Anyone looking at the title of the post would be inclined to think, this as being another eulogy to the ‘Queen of Soul’. Yes it is, about her but no it is not really about her. The beauty of the initial rock/rock n roll/blues was the interconnectivity through one to other. Artist to other, they were covering some of the legends and at times they were just covering and appreciating the contemporaries. 60s-70s the golden ages of English music, never to return.

So, coming to our story, Respect, I was introduced to Aretha Franklin through some of the best or top 100 songs type list and i got to know about the brave strong voice of Aretha. I wouldn’t say that this is my favourite song but I can fully appreciate the magnitude of the song and singer. One thing lead to another, and I landed up at the original ‘Respect’ guy, our dear old Otis Redding, I had heard the name a lot, having had some sort of charisma and charm. And yet, I hadnt heard much of him except the mellow (Sitting on the) dock of the bay. So, expecting dock of the bay, I tuned into Respect by Otis Redding and it was my turn to be blown over. When he starts, “What youuu wantt” louder than the loud thumping and trumpeting going on, I just forgot Aretha Franklin’s voice. His voice didnt carry that message, the earnest but here then, just listening to the song, I will swear to my death bed, I would prefer listening to Respect by Otis Redding over Respect by Aretha Franklin.

And yet, the guy died even younger than the 27 club. Surely a great voice, some great lines lost. Adding both the versions for people to make their opinion.

The Merchant of India and his Friendly Nemesis

While growing up, I used to be fascinated about the three Vijays of Indian Cricket, namely, Vijay Merchant, Vijay Hazare and Vijay Manjrekar, drawing parallels with three Ws in my mind. As I grew up, I realised, while Mr. Manjrekar was the better batsman in his family, the other two Vijays were in different class, both in terms of age, as well as batting class and averages.

There are a lot of things, that can be told about the two Vijays, not least Cricket with Vijay Merchant or Mr. Hazare who breached the Don’s defence twice, a feat not many bowlers achieved, leave aside, the person being one of the two best batsmen in the team. But today, the story is different. Merchant is the Indian Numero Uno, the batsman with the highest First Class average after who else but the Don, he was the founder of Mumbai School of Khadoos Batsmanship, a tradition modified only with the arrival of a curly-haired teenager more than 5 decades later. While the biggest tragedy for Indian Cricket according to Merchant was that Hazare (a Test batting average only .07 lower than Merchant) couldn’t be the finest Indian batsman due to captaincy load.

The batting rivalry of the Don Bradman and Wally Hammond is well-known to the cricket literati, their Ashes rivalries where eventually the Don would prevail over Hammond besting Don’s previous efforts. Similar story-line developed in a similar time frame on the grounds of India, most famously in the matches between Bombay and Maharashtra (Baroda later).

The run race for the highest individual innings by an Indian between the two Prima Donnas began in 1941-42. Merchant’s innings of 242(3) for Hindus against Muslims in Bombay Pentangular was the highest score by an Indian till date. A record, duly broken by Hazare in the very next season with a score of 248 in the same championship against the same opponents, for “The Rest” against Muslims.

The next year, the final match featured, Merchant’s Hindus versus Hazare’s The Rest. Hindus batted first, with Merchant yet again breaking the record with a 250 in the team score. Not to be outdone by the other Vijay, Mr. Hazare scored a mammoth 309 out of a team total of 387, a 300 run partnership with his tailender brother scoring 266 out of them. Thus becoming the first Indian triple centurion.

Final saga of the story again came from the Merchant, scoring a 359* almost a week later, settling the debate for one last time. Hazare although scored another 316 but couldn’t best Vijay Merchant, the Indian Numero Uno.