Dedicated to Shesha... I hope u find the strength and inspiration soon....
Waking up to emptiness
Unanswered questions' persistence
Will I ever get used to this madness?
Searching for a clue
Why did this nightmare come true?
Aint no justice, it’s a shock that in my heart will brew
I try to find inspiration
But where is She? … there is no motivation
Im sure you have a sound, but what seems to me a crude justification
Shall anyone rob me of my memory of Her?
Is it not to stay with me an eternity, forever?
Then what for am I an uncertain and insecure adapter?
I tell myself that I will pull through
For, my love for her is undying and true
Besides, is there someone for this to sue?
I accept your sorrow as a challenge
For death is a rule we neither can accept nor avenge
So, why should I now not my inner self scavenge?
The grief of your loss, Dearly Departed
Has struck me like a meteoroid out-sized, ablated
Make you proud, I will…filling this crater-trough with deeds unadulterated
I take it then, as her final awakening than a slumberous sleep
Wont stop wishing through my window someday she will peep
I will, in my smile and strength and love, forever her memory keep
Folks say pain gives way to understanding,
That which was overlooked in joy intoxicating
What of this ? ..will it help in the void-filling?
But I shall be better in loving and showing it to the ones remaining
Understand I do, that the cause of boundless sorrow is nie
But the loss of the immensely happy 'WE'
Promise I do, the cage of my heart is softened and shortly moulded will be a new 'ME'.
~N
Tuesday 21 October 2008
Thursday 16 October 2008
Why I love Kahlil Gibran…..
Disclaimer: This was intended as a review of Gibran's works, but I realize that I am incapable of a nonpartisan view in this regard and therefore I settle now to only comment on what makes him so special! Don't know if it is only me, or more of you agree…
Weary is my spirit of all there is.
I would not move a hand to create a world
Nor to erase one.
I would not live could I but die,
For the weight of aeons is upon me,
And the ceaseless moan of the seas exhausts my sleep.
Could I but lose the primal aim
And vanish like a wasted sun;
Could I but strip my divinity of its purpose
And breathe my immortality into space,
And be no more;
Could I but be consumed and pass from time’s memory
Into the emptiness of nowhere!
That is Kahlil Gibran for you! Simply masterful, eh? For someone who couldn’t correct his mispelled name as an immigrant to America, for someone who was always insecure of his command over the English language and for someone who, for most part, felt out-of-place in a Western world, Gibran's writing in English is unique, insightful, lyrical, profound, universal, timeless.
Being a Christian (I know, most people think he is a Muslim), a Maronite at that and from a region as amalgamated as Lebanon (60% Muslims and 40% Christian) – he is an excellent example of someone who has had the best of most worlds. Add to it, his immigration to America and opening up of a whole new world! He had had his regular dose of religion- (queer again!) Bible preachings in Arabic, but he never found it enough to quench his thirst in the quest. This background permeates his works and roots its content in tolerance.
He does not indulge in complicated teachings of how to attain God… neither does he advocate his idea of how one should lead one's life – this is the core of his writing and therein lies his appeal. This is precisely what makes his thought timeless and enables it to surpass petty boundaries as religion, region etc. He simply answers questions that have aroused in his mind at an earlier point in time and to which he believes he has found an answer; at the same time being completely aware that there maybe other, more relevant answers.
Gibran is a unique mixture of peace and chaos - without his internal chaos, he could not have raised those questions and without his peace, insight and a gripping pursuance he could not have penned down those answers. Reading him is like an inner voice - one understands and feels it, but can hardly do justice to describing it and this is where Gibran's writings lend a tangible manifestation to those ideas and thoughts that everyone has toyed with every once in a while.
In terms of literature itself, his use of metaphors is unparalleled. With Gibran, words become art and is unfettered by everything around. His antithesis helps provide the perfect balance, which something as heavy as his writing definitely needs. The terms he uses to describe certain entities, feelings etc seem so refreshingly apt and simple –never have those words been used to deliver such impact and never will one use any other word as a replacement.
Gibran spins his stories and delivers all he has to around his experinces and relationships in life. This is probably why the story itself, or the plot (if I may say so) bears less impact and all focus is on what he is saying. But this is hardly an impairment, as the message he imparts is far more fulfilling and lets the handicap go almost unnoticed.
He doesn’t act as protagonist, instead assigns his ideas to a character in the story. This makes his prophecies less 'preachy', more human and humble, even. He comments on every aspect that is critical in ones life, gives his opinion- which is indeed profound. His works personify clarity of thought and simplicity.
His works are more like verses of poetry than prose; and his thoughts more spiritual than are religious. An unthinkable combination of words, unconventional metaphors and a rare ebullience marks the flavour of all his works.
His power seems to come from some great reservoir of spiritual life else it could not have been so inspirational, universal and so cogent, but the majesty and beauty of the language with which he clothed it were all his own.
Gentle, yet startling; a Sage and a Rebel; the Believer and the Doubter- Gibran makes one feel that Socrates' Banquet was written solely for him – 'It is the beauty of thought which exercises a deeper enchantment than the beauty of form'. And this in any way does not allude to the fact that his works lack a beauty of form- instead, enchanting words and captivating sketches(yes, he is an artist too) can be found throughout his books. This mystic has a voice with the ring and the potency of an oracle. Gibran’s utterances came out of inner ripeness, which defies intellectual security and analyses – as was rightly described by his mother as being 'out of psycology'.
I have never read a book by a man who so thoroughly is in touch with himself and the world around, Gibran is able not only to show you the world through his eyes, but to make you feel as if you are looking upon a whole new world with your own. A strange touch of melancholy runs through his verses, for he is the soaring eagle and its very shadow, the crawling turtle too…
……Vague and nebulous is the beginning of all things, but not their end,
And I fain would have you remember me as a beginning.
Life, and all that lives, is conceived in the mist and not in the crystal.
And who knows but a crystal is mist in decay?
This would I have you remember in remembering me…
Weary is my spirit of all there is.
I would not move a hand to create a world
Nor to erase one.
I would not live could I but die,
For the weight of aeons is upon me,
And the ceaseless moan of the seas exhausts my sleep.
Could I but lose the primal aim
And vanish like a wasted sun;
Could I but strip my divinity of its purpose
And breathe my immortality into space,
And be no more;
Could I but be consumed and pass from time’s memory
Into the emptiness of nowhere!
That is Kahlil Gibran for you! Simply masterful, eh? For someone who couldn’t correct his mispelled name as an immigrant to America, for someone who was always insecure of his command over the English language and for someone who, for most part, felt out-of-place in a Western world, Gibran's writing in English is unique, insightful, lyrical, profound, universal, timeless.
Being a Christian (I know, most people think he is a Muslim), a Maronite at that and from a region as amalgamated as Lebanon (60% Muslims and 40% Christian) – he is an excellent example of someone who has had the best of most worlds. Add to it, his immigration to America and opening up of a whole new world! He had had his regular dose of religion- (queer again!) Bible preachings in Arabic, but he never found it enough to quench his thirst in the quest. This background permeates his works and roots its content in tolerance.
He does not indulge in complicated teachings of how to attain God… neither does he advocate his idea of how one should lead one's life – this is the core of his writing and therein lies his appeal. This is precisely what makes his thought timeless and enables it to surpass petty boundaries as religion, region etc. He simply answers questions that have aroused in his mind at an earlier point in time and to which he believes he has found an answer; at the same time being completely aware that there maybe other, more relevant answers.
Gibran is a unique mixture of peace and chaos - without his internal chaos, he could not have raised those questions and without his peace, insight and a gripping pursuance he could not have penned down those answers. Reading him is like an inner voice - one understands and feels it, but can hardly do justice to describing it and this is where Gibran's writings lend a tangible manifestation to those ideas and thoughts that everyone has toyed with every once in a while.
In terms of literature itself, his use of metaphors is unparalleled. With Gibran, words become art and is unfettered by everything around. His antithesis helps provide the perfect balance, which something as heavy as his writing definitely needs. The terms he uses to describe certain entities, feelings etc seem so refreshingly apt and simple –never have those words been used to deliver such impact and never will one use any other word as a replacement.
Gibran spins his stories and delivers all he has to around his experinces and relationships in life. This is probably why the story itself, or the plot (if I may say so) bears less impact and all focus is on what he is saying. But this is hardly an impairment, as the message he imparts is far more fulfilling and lets the handicap go almost unnoticed.
He doesn’t act as protagonist, instead assigns his ideas to a character in the story. This makes his prophecies less 'preachy', more human and humble, even. He comments on every aspect that is critical in ones life, gives his opinion- which is indeed profound. His works personify clarity of thought and simplicity.
His works are more like verses of poetry than prose; and his thoughts more spiritual than are religious. An unthinkable combination of words, unconventional metaphors and a rare ebullience marks the flavour of all his works.
His power seems to come from some great reservoir of spiritual life else it could not have been so inspirational, universal and so cogent, but the majesty and beauty of the language with which he clothed it were all his own.
Gentle, yet startling; a Sage and a Rebel; the Believer and the Doubter- Gibran makes one feel that Socrates' Banquet was written solely for him – 'It is the beauty of thought which exercises a deeper enchantment than the beauty of form'. And this in any way does not allude to the fact that his works lack a beauty of form- instead, enchanting words and captivating sketches(yes, he is an artist too) can be found throughout his books. This mystic has a voice with the ring and the potency of an oracle. Gibran’s utterances came out of inner ripeness, which defies intellectual security and analyses – as was rightly described by his mother as being 'out of psycology'.
I have never read a book by a man who so thoroughly is in touch with himself and the world around, Gibran is able not only to show you the world through his eyes, but to make you feel as if you are looking upon a whole new world with your own. A strange touch of melancholy runs through his verses, for he is the soaring eagle and its very shadow, the crawling turtle too…
……Vague and nebulous is the beginning of all things, but not their end,
And I fain would have you remember me as a beginning.
Life, and all that lives, is conceived in the mist and not in the crystal.
And who knows but a crystal is mist in decay?
This would I have you remember in remembering me…
Friday 26 September 2008
Tunisia - A Travelogue
Disclaimer:
This is not a Travelogue with details into the journey route, best places to stay and eat at, must-see places etc. (there are reams available on it already!) It is simply a collection of thoughts that are still deeply impressed in my mind, after almost 10 months of the travel itself. I simply HAD to do Tunisia the honour of a memoir…. here goes…
Tunisia – it was everything that I thought it would be and more. Frankly, I did not know what exactly to expect but I had a certain flavour in mind, a certain palpation… and it lived up to all that.
Tunisia was more than just the sights I saw, the places that I visited – it was about the feeling it inspired, the thoughts buried somewhere that it brought to the fore. It stirred up a sense of adventure and exploring. The place is so exotic, I might go as far as saying vaguely pernicious even, but that’s what makes it special too. It gave me the feeling of being on a show on Discovery Travel channel, of authoring a Lonely Planet (although I was referring to it myself)- but that’s the kind of 'I-don’t-care-about-rationale' state it put one in! It was like being part of a Lucky Ali video – being a lost, lonely traveller. A kind of nostalgia, like you belong there and you have been there before.
Such a small country and what variety! I always remember being very proud of India that it has so much to offer… so much diversity and here was this country, probably one twentieth the size of India and had just as much to offer, if not more. Beautiful virign beaches, lush mountains, volcanic plateux, and the most magical of all – the Sahara! Very Mediterranean, very Arab, Western and pleasantly Islamic, all at the sametime.
To give you a picture, almost all cities in Tunisia (as in most Arab countries) have a central Medina (an old Fort) which is the old city and most new developments are outside and around the walls of this fortress. The serpentine Medina streets, with the colourful Tunisian carpets (Kilims) lend a sense of authenticity even though the Medinas are now commercial for most part and bursting with souvenir shops trying to fleece tourists. There are still some residential parts though and its quite an experience staying in one of these hotels within the Medina, atleast for Fort-freaks like me! Every old building within these walls has a story to tell. Every winding street, a mystery to unravel. Once you leave the busy main streets and wander off into the relatively untouched areas, one sees that domestic life here continues as it has since centuries. With women and children oblivious of the occasional backpacker who steals quick shots with high-tech cameras, this is by far a more fulfilling walk free of vendors trying to lure you with €10 i-Pods!
Most cities look strikingly similar, with the exception of a few coastal ones which look typically Mediterranean, with their white and blue, low-ceilinged structures over-looking the sea and could easily pass for a village taken right out of one of the Greek Islands! These villages are home to plush, sprawling villas of millionaires craving for their moment of peace and time off the lime light, and attracts water-sport enthusiasts too. Most Western tourists can be spotted here and not surprisingly, these beachy towns are often party capitals and offer happening night-life. The country serves this mixture of cities, which makes for a perfect blend of the relaxed mediterranean feel and the exotic, might I add 'rustic' Arab feel.
Garnish this already intoxicating dish with the flavour and right dose of Historic whodunit and you have an unforgettable taste. Intriguing Roman ruins, entire cities centuries old which stand abondoned, but still staring you in the face with brimming pride and grandeur inspire awe and respect for a departed era. In all its prosperity, technology and dizzying lights today's cities of Dubai, KL etc. with all their buildings piled and put together on a scale do not match the majesty of a single Amphitheatre and the magnificence of a Colosseum in remote Africa. Its interesting to see for how long this continent has been exploited, for the rocks to build the Great Colosseum in Rome were transported from this very country! (or so goes the local story).
And transporting you through all these different sorcerous worlds is the perfect magic carpet, in the form of a local shared taxi called the 'louage'. This is a story unto itself! There is no pre-defined time of departure, it simply takes off when it is full. The drivers chant the name of the destination (which could be quite hard to follow, sometimes!) and you get into one of the louages and wait for it to fill up. This is far more efficient than the state transport which seems to be on an eternal Ramadan schedule (it functions from 6.00 to 14.00 hours ONLY). In any case all public transport closes latest by 15.00 as a rule and 17.00 is more the exception. The trains are worth just as short a mention as is the length of their time-table. The train chart for the entire country is all of 4 lines, no really!
The highlight of the trip was certainly the wizardly and magical Sahara. It challenges you teasingly to enter and just when you muster enough courage and dare, it puts your way an Omen that makes you re-think. The Oracle may be in the form of a sudden mysterious, howling wind that blows so much sand your way that your eyes stubbornly refuse the challenge or a quick shifting of sand-dune positions which makes you so lost that you dare not take a step further. Ironically, just when you retreat the Sahara also broods with a desert song that is so inviting, almost with a power so drawing that you simply cannot resist. Such is the effect of the Grand Erg Oriental! It makes a traveller feel a sense of belonging and at the sametime enkindles the fantasy of being a nomad, unbelonging. Atleast, that’s what it did to me – I wanted to forget about what I had to get back to and to hop on the next Caravan troop and be a Bedouin all my life!
The camel-back rides through the perfidious sands, the deserted settlements of once-prosperous villages, left-overs from a previous group of nomads, NO trace of other tourists for miles on end all added to the charm. And how could I do justice to describing the feeling the spotting of an Oasis evokes? One truly experiences a thirst for the panorama of a clump of trees, just ANYTHING but the sand and only the sand – and this, when you would have given your good arm to just step into the desert, a couple of days ago and have dreamed of the Sahara all your life! I am truly not hyperbolizing here, but just 2 days of the desert could really do this to you. And like a romantic novel with a happy ending, the Oasis gives just what you are craving for, and in a few hours you are left thirsty for the dry desert again and are ready to continue. Ah! The nights in the middle of the desert, when you look up and see at ONE glance the measure of stars you've seen in all your life put together.... you realize you can never marvel enough. The lingering taste of the simple bread cooked in layers of sand, the melancholic songs the local nomads sing, the warmth of the fire that gladdens your soul will stay for a lifetime.
I still struggle to put a finger on why this country was so special, considering it was never on my radar of places to visit (atleast not since long). But I realize as I am writing this that there is an array of contrasts about the country and that’s probably what perks my attention, as I often slot myself as a potpourri of conflicting traits and cerebration, 'a mixture of opposties'. Yes, there are extremes with regard to everything in Tunisia – from people rudely shutting their doors in the face to western travellers to inviting people they meet in a café to a sibling's wedding party; from having to stand the stifling heat during the day to freezing temperatures after sun-down. From the large population of illiterates whose only exposure is to the native Arabic to another huge section that talk flawless French, Tunisia is a true Salmagundi!
Yes, this strange concoction which is surprisingly pleasing on the palate is what clicks between Tunisia and me, I guess…what adds to the Chemistry ;) … what the HELL! I am going to stop looking for reasons and diluting the effect, instead just be content.
Now that you know better, you will probably understand why everytime I take my walking boots from Tunisia out, it brings a smile to my face, for it still has a few grains of fine sand from the Sahara that don’t seem to let go of my shoes; or the backpack which needs cleaning before another trip, but doesn’t stop surprising me with a few grians from every cranny. Yes, I don’t think Tunisia will ever stop having that grip on me, however weak with the passage of time but with sudden spurts so strong that I manage to go back in time and re-visit it all over again. It has by far been one of the most memorable trips and very special indeed.
In a few words, the whole trip and the weeks spent there stand for the red saharan sand, chilly pre-sunrise-mornings at the bus station with 'Lonely Planet' in hand, Thé á la mente, Louage rides, cous-cous, Kilims, camels, the old man at the street corner selling snuff (somehow I cant get his content smile out of my head), road-side Hookahs, beautiful and innocent eyes of the local women (ALL of them had amazing eyes)….. I promised to keep it to a 'few words' ..Ooops!
This is not a Travelogue with details into the journey route, best places to stay and eat at, must-see places etc. (there are reams available on it already!) It is simply a collection of thoughts that are still deeply impressed in my mind, after almost 10 months of the travel itself. I simply HAD to do Tunisia the honour of a memoir…. here goes…
Tunisia – it was everything that I thought it would be and more. Frankly, I did not know what exactly to expect but I had a certain flavour in mind, a certain palpation… and it lived up to all that.
Tunisia was more than just the sights I saw, the places that I visited – it was about the feeling it inspired, the thoughts buried somewhere that it brought to the fore. It stirred up a sense of adventure and exploring. The place is so exotic, I might go as far as saying vaguely pernicious even, but that’s what makes it special too. It gave me the feeling of being on a show on Discovery Travel channel, of authoring a Lonely Planet (although I was referring to it myself)- but that’s the kind of 'I-don’t-care-about-rationale' state it put one in! It was like being part of a Lucky Ali video – being a lost, lonely traveller. A kind of nostalgia, like you belong there and you have been there before.
Such a small country and what variety! I always remember being very proud of India that it has so much to offer… so much diversity and here was this country, probably one twentieth the size of India and had just as much to offer, if not more. Beautiful virign beaches, lush mountains, volcanic plateux, and the most magical of all – the Sahara! Very Mediterranean, very Arab, Western and pleasantly Islamic, all at the sametime.
To give you a picture, almost all cities in Tunisia (as in most Arab countries) have a central Medina (an old Fort) which is the old city and most new developments are outside and around the walls of this fortress. The serpentine Medina streets, with the colourful Tunisian carpets (Kilims) lend a sense of authenticity even though the Medinas are now commercial for most part and bursting with souvenir shops trying to fleece tourists. There are still some residential parts though and its quite an experience staying in one of these hotels within the Medina, atleast for Fort-freaks like me! Every old building within these walls has a story to tell. Every winding street, a mystery to unravel. Once you leave the busy main streets and wander off into the relatively untouched areas, one sees that domestic life here continues as it has since centuries. With women and children oblivious of the occasional backpacker who steals quick shots with high-tech cameras, this is by far a more fulfilling walk free of vendors trying to lure you with €10 i-Pods!
Most cities look strikingly similar, with the exception of a few coastal ones which look typically Mediterranean, with their white and blue, low-ceilinged structures over-looking the sea and could easily pass for a village taken right out of one of the Greek Islands! These villages are home to plush, sprawling villas of millionaires craving for their moment of peace and time off the lime light, and attracts water-sport enthusiasts too. Most Western tourists can be spotted here and not surprisingly, these beachy towns are often party capitals and offer happening night-life. The country serves this mixture of cities, which makes for a perfect blend of the relaxed mediterranean feel and the exotic, might I add 'rustic' Arab feel.
Garnish this already intoxicating dish with the flavour and right dose of Historic whodunit and you have an unforgettable taste. Intriguing Roman ruins, entire cities centuries old which stand abondoned, but still staring you in the face with brimming pride and grandeur inspire awe and respect for a departed era. In all its prosperity, technology and dizzying lights today's cities of Dubai, KL etc. with all their buildings piled and put together on a scale do not match the majesty of a single Amphitheatre and the magnificence of a Colosseum in remote Africa. Its interesting to see for how long this continent has been exploited, for the rocks to build the Great Colosseum in Rome were transported from this very country! (or so goes the local story).
And transporting you through all these different sorcerous worlds is the perfect magic carpet, in the form of a local shared taxi called the 'louage'. This is a story unto itself! There is no pre-defined time of departure, it simply takes off when it is full. The drivers chant the name of the destination (which could be quite hard to follow, sometimes!) and you get into one of the louages and wait for it to fill up. This is far more efficient than the state transport which seems to be on an eternal Ramadan schedule (it functions from 6.00 to 14.00 hours ONLY). In any case all public transport closes latest by 15.00 as a rule and 17.00 is more the exception. The trains are worth just as short a mention as is the length of their time-table. The train chart for the entire country is all of 4 lines, no really!
The highlight of the trip was certainly the wizardly and magical Sahara. It challenges you teasingly to enter and just when you muster enough courage and dare, it puts your way an Omen that makes you re-think. The Oracle may be in the form of a sudden mysterious, howling wind that blows so much sand your way that your eyes stubbornly refuse the challenge or a quick shifting of sand-dune positions which makes you so lost that you dare not take a step further. Ironically, just when you retreat the Sahara also broods with a desert song that is so inviting, almost with a power so drawing that you simply cannot resist. Such is the effect of the Grand Erg Oriental! It makes a traveller feel a sense of belonging and at the sametime enkindles the fantasy of being a nomad, unbelonging. Atleast, that’s what it did to me – I wanted to forget about what I had to get back to and to hop on the next Caravan troop and be a Bedouin all my life!
The camel-back rides through the perfidious sands, the deserted settlements of once-prosperous villages, left-overs from a previous group of nomads, NO trace of other tourists for miles on end all added to the charm. And how could I do justice to describing the feeling the spotting of an Oasis evokes? One truly experiences a thirst for the panorama of a clump of trees, just ANYTHING but the sand and only the sand – and this, when you would have given your good arm to just step into the desert, a couple of days ago and have dreamed of the Sahara all your life! I am truly not hyperbolizing here, but just 2 days of the desert could really do this to you. And like a romantic novel with a happy ending, the Oasis gives just what you are craving for, and in a few hours you are left thirsty for the dry desert again and are ready to continue. Ah! The nights in the middle of the desert, when you look up and see at ONE glance the measure of stars you've seen in all your life put together.... you realize you can never marvel enough. The lingering taste of the simple bread cooked in layers of sand, the melancholic songs the local nomads sing, the warmth of the fire that gladdens your soul will stay for a lifetime.
I still struggle to put a finger on why this country was so special, considering it was never on my radar of places to visit (atleast not since long). But I realize as I am writing this that there is an array of contrasts about the country and that’s probably what perks my attention, as I often slot myself as a potpourri of conflicting traits and cerebration, 'a mixture of opposties'. Yes, there are extremes with regard to everything in Tunisia – from people rudely shutting their doors in the face to western travellers to inviting people they meet in a café to a sibling's wedding party; from having to stand the stifling heat during the day to freezing temperatures after sun-down. From the large population of illiterates whose only exposure is to the native Arabic to another huge section that talk flawless French, Tunisia is a true Salmagundi!
Yes, this strange concoction which is surprisingly pleasing on the palate is what clicks between Tunisia and me, I guess…what adds to the Chemistry ;) … what the HELL! I am going to stop looking for reasons and diluting the effect, instead just be content.
Now that you know better, you will probably understand why everytime I take my walking boots from Tunisia out, it brings a smile to my face, for it still has a few grains of fine sand from the Sahara that don’t seem to let go of my shoes; or the backpack which needs cleaning before another trip, but doesn’t stop surprising me with a few grians from every cranny. Yes, I don’t think Tunisia will ever stop having that grip on me, however weak with the passage of time but with sudden spurts so strong that I manage to go back in time and re-visit it all over again. It has by far been one of the most memorable trips and very special indeed.
In a few words, the whole trip and the weeks spent there stand for the red saharan sand, chilly pre-sunrise-mornings at the bus station with 'Lonely Planet' in hand, Thé á la mente, Louage rides, cous-cous, Kilims, camels, the old man at the street corner selling snuff (somehow I cant get his content smile out of my head), road-side Hookahs, beautiful and innocent eyes of the local women (ALL of them had amazing eyes)….. I promised to keep it to a 'few words' ..Ooops!
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