Monday 27 April 2015

Yesterday a Child Dropped Dead

Yesterday a child dropped dead
With grim intent had I killed her
I laughed as Death's spirit filled her
Her final draught of poison fed
I lay her lifeless in her bed

Against my conscientious lance
Her frailty crumbled in despair
She collapsed, broken beyond repair
And though you look at me askance
I'd do it again if I had the chance

Innocence, for that was her name
(The child who lay, lifeblood drained)
Was lost, but much was gained
Life was now no longer the same
What went before was insipid, tame

You ask why I am filled with glee?
Why, at the death of this blameless child
Do my cheeks flush red, eyes glimmer wild?
I celebrate, friends, for I am now set free
I have killed the child inside of me

Saturday 25 April 2015

I Am Within Myself a World

I am within Myself a world
The rest, they are mere satellites
Orbiting round Me in intimate swirl
I am the dark iris, they the white

I am salvation, the perfect particle
I am a masterpiece complete
I am nirvana, the finished article
Creation of manna and conceit

I possess all, and everything through Me
Becomes more than it was meant to be
I prithee, do not misconstrue Me
I claim nothing less than divinity

Insignificant is Existence,
Absurd is Life,
Futile is Resistance,
Friend is Strife

Foam against me, froth against me,
Powerless waves of masses thee!
Splash against me, crash against me
I am the immovable entity

Upon your limited horizons gape
Do you see that massive shadow loom?
‘Tis Me, the Man amongst thee apes
I am the herald of your doom

Wednesday 8 April 2015

Bulleh Shah - Ni Main Kamli Haan

(A big thank you to Deepanshi for massive help with the translation)

Oh let me know in the city of Lahore,
How many windows and how many doors?

Speak also to me of the bricks’ state,
How many lie intact and how many disintegrate?

Tell me, in Lahore, the number of salty wells
And also the number in which sweetness dwells?

Ponder hard, and return with my answer embedded
How many women are betrothed and how many still unwedded?

Let me tell thee now, in the city of Lahore,
There are lakhs of windows and lakhs of doors.

The bricks that felt the Lover’s step lay broken
The one’s that didn’t lay intact, unawoken.

Those wells alone that Lovers touched bore a sweetness divine
Those wells that shared not a similar fate remained ever saline.

Those seated alongside their lovers alone are truly married
And those with a destiny alternate have solitary tarried

Doth people not go to pilgrimage, visit the Holy Shrine?
Thou art my Mecca, Ranjha, Thou art my voyage divine

For I am crazy.

One that flows away with tears, what use of that kohl?
What significance of that ornament that with a blow shatters?
Why wear colours that with droplets are washed away whole?
The lover that meets with cold affront, doth life to him matter?

Yea, for I am crazy.

O instantly, Ranjha, my whole being is yours
Though father attempts to part us by force

Yea, for I am crazy.

If God was to be found by ablution,
He would enlighten toads and fish
If God was to be found by renunciation,
He would be a Cattle’s relish
If Mosques were the site of true salvation
He would be a Bat’s fetish

O Bulleya, God is found in those whose intentions are true!

Yea, for I am crazy.

Thou mays’t have read books aplenty, erudite!
But on thine own self, shed thee no light?

Thou mays’t have oft entered mosques and temples galore
But is thine heart not unvisited, under locked doors?

O human, battlest thou thine demons in vain,
‘Tis not them but your instincts that are thy bane.

Says the saint Bulleh Shah, thou wouldst catch hold of the skies infinite,
But never a care for thine heart and the one it holds within it.

Yea, for I am crazy.


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The original:

Daal dus khaan shehar Lahore e ander
Bai kinnein boohey tay kinnian barian nein?

Naley das khaan aothon dian ittaan
Kinnian tuttian tay kinnian saaran nein?

Daal dus khaan shehr Lahore e andar?
Khooian kinnian mithian tey kinnian khaarian nein?

Zara soch key dewien jawaab meinoon
Aothey kinnian viyaeyan tay kinnian kunvarian nein?

Daal dassaan mein shehr lahore e ander
Bai lakhaan boohey tay lakhaan e baarian nein

Jinnaan ittaan tay tahar gaey paer aashiq
O heoon tuttian tay baqi saarian nein

Jinnaan khooian toun paher gaey mashooq paarrein
O heon mithi te baaki khaariya nein

Jerian behendian apnein naal sajraan dey
O heon viyaiyan teh baaqi kunvarian nein

Haji lok makkey nun jandey
Mera ranjha mahi makkah

Nein main kamli haan

Ho kajjal da ki pawana keh jeda athro wagan rurh jawey
Kach da key pehnana jera thece lagey tutt jawey
Rung da key lawaran keh jera boond pawey khurr jawey
Aashiq noun key maarran keh jera cheherk dawey mur jawey

Nein main kamli haan O!

Ho mein tan mung ranjhan di hoean to ranjha
Mera babul dainda e thaka

Nein main kamli haan

Jey rab milda nahatian tohotian
They milda daddoan machian
Jey rab milda jungle bailey
Tan milda gaoan wachian
Jey rab milda wich maseetee
Tan milda chaam charikian

Bullia rab aonan nu milda Bullia! Bhai neetaan jinhan dian sachian

Nein main kamli haan

Parh parh main hazaar kitabaan
Kadee aprain aap noun perhia nahein

Jaan jaan warrdey mandar maseetee
Kadee mun aprrain wich warian nahein

Aewein larrnaein shaitaan dey naal bundia
Kadee nafs aprrain naal larria nahein

Aakhay peer Bulleh Shah aasmaani pharr naen
Jeda mann vich basda phadiya naen

Nein main kamli haan.

Monday 6 April 2015

Aapki Nazron Ne Samjha

Original:

Aapki nazron ne samjha pyaar ke qabil mujhe
Dil ki ae dhadkan theher ja
Mil gayi manzil mujhe

Haan humein manzoor hai aapka yeh faisla
Keh rahi hai har nazar, banda parvar shukriya
Has ke apni zindagi mein kar liya shaamil mujhe
Aapki nazron ne samjha pyaar ke qaabil mujhe

Aapki manzil hoon mein,
Meri manzil aap ho
Kyun mein toofaanon se darun
Mera saahil aap ho

Koi toofanon se keh de
Mil gaya saahil mujhe
Aapki nazron ne samjha
Pyaar ke qaabil mujhe

Padh gayi dil par mere aap ki parchaiyan
Har taraf bajne lagi sainkdon shehnaiyan

Do jahaan ki aaj khushiyan
Ho gayi haasil mujhe
Aapki mazron ne samjha
Pyaar ke qaabil mujhe

Translation:

Your eyes chose me to be worthy of your affection
Heartbeat abate! I have found my destination

Yes! I acquiesce to your decision
My every glance indicates my gratefulness
That I was accepted with gracious elation
That your eyes chose me to be worthy of your affection

Your destination am I and my destination  you
Storms no longer doth affright me
My faith in your protection stands true
Let all tempests know that I am with thee

On my heart have fallen your shadows
In every direction there play a thousand harmonies
The happiness of two worlds is now mine
For your heart has chosen me...

Sunday 5 April 2015

If You Walk Down This Path...

Usman woke up, lazily wearing his unironed shirt, groping through his three pairs of jeans for the one that looked least dirty, and slipped them on while yawning his way to the kitchen to check if there was any food left for him to eat.

There wasn’t.

His stomach let out a protesting groan. He ignored it. Checking how much time he had left to catch the bus to college, Usman calculated whether he had time for a shower.

He didn’t.

Shrugging nonchalantly, he brushed his teeth and sprayed himself with an extra spray of deodorant. This act of benevolence always made him feel like a good Samaritan.

With the tiresome formalities out of the way, he began the part of the day he really relished. His mind finally felt awake and primed. He opened his book cabinet and surveyed the vast treasure he had amassed, searching for the book that would keep him company for the next few days. The book would determine whether he spent the next week in silent awe or disgruntled disappointment.

As it were, Fate had bigger plans for him. He chose Freud.

Putting on his oversized headphones, turning the music’s volume to the maximum, he walked with his smooth, practiced, rhythmic gait down to the bus stop, moving his feet in sync with Metallica’s drum beat. The bright Pune sun shone down on a wide, dusty street. The heat was getting oppressive and the populace was divided into two large groups on either side of the road, clustered in the shade of the trees.

Usman waited calmly, pretending not to notice the stares his appearance drew. With his large frame and thick beard, he was used to drawing the fearful glances of middle aged women and the open curiosity of school kids. The rest of them stared as well, but were practiced in the art of subtlety.

The bus came, he threw himself into the inevitable jostle to get on in time and allowed the wave of people to carry him along. Once inside the bus, he used his size to push through the crowd to get to the empty seats first. It was a tactic he had perfected over years of commuting by bus.

Once in the seat, he turned his attention away from the populace once again, letting his mind drown in the dark melodies of Erik Satie. He would not rise from his self induced reverie until he reached his destination. His college.

On reaching, he took his customary diversion from the college route to smoke a cigarette. With the combination of tobacco and music, and an ever-present bottle of Thums up, Usman trundled down the college gravel path in a tranquil state of mind, whistling and swaying to the music.

Walking into his classroom, his eyes immediately searched for that vast expanse of curly hair and fair skin that constituted his best friend. On locating her, he made his way through the maze of benches, nodding awkwardly at his classmates on the way, ignoring the teacher, who was busy spouting misinterpretations of the works of the best writers to have lived.

Usman sat down beside her, and without speaking a word, pulled out his new book and showed it off to her, gleaming with pride, with a goofy smile on his face. She smiled back, shaking her head at his childish glee. She then turned her attention back to the teacher, religiously taking notes, as he continued to behave as if the teacher did not exist and opened his book to read.

Right there, two friends, sitting right beside each other, became residents of two separate worlds.
She occupied reality, making the best of substandard teachers, taking notes knowing full well that most of her friends group depended on her for providing them with reading material for the exams. She asked questions, answered questions, compared notes, cracked jokes, laughed, yawned and sighed.

Not even a meter to her right, Usman had travelled into another world. He knew of no classroom, he hardly knew of himself. He was in the world of Sigmund Freud, immersed in cases of neuroses. Despite everyone telling him to read Freud with a pinch of salt, knowing full well that many of his theories have been disproven, Usman continued to feel that there was much more wisdom in Freud than he was given credit for.

While his teacher droned on, spewing forth from rote memory the meanings of allegories and metaphors and symbolisms, Usman’s mind pondered the immense, uncharted areas of the mind that still held so many enigmas. It always seemed to him mankind was much more comfortable exploring outwards than inwards. They’d pierce the very depths of space to uncover the universe’s secrets, but would stutter and stammer at the doorway to their own minds.
And he really could not blame them. Whatever he knew of the subconscious made it sound like a malicious entity, out of reach, out of harm’s way, and yet wreaking havoc with the world.

Usman had always had a mind for theorizing. He could never just read about a thought without implementing it and living out its implications and consequences in his mind. He was a bright boy and had read widely, and this habit of mind testing everything he read had led him to a more or less concrete view on life and living. Much more concrete and cocksure than a 23-year-old ought to be.

The bell rang, startling him out of his musings. He immediately turned to his friend, excitedly telling him of Freud’s findings and theories. She would always listen to him with a proud, almost maternal smile on her face, but today her face clouded over. Her luminous skin seemed darkened by a veil of grey fear. It disconcerted him to see her like this.

“What happened?” he asked, worried.

She shook her head, breathed a deep sigh, squeezed his hand and changed the topic.

In his classic non confrontational manner, Usman let it go as something insignificant.

With no further lectures scheduled, they made their way to the cafeteria, cracked the usual jokes, ate the usual snacks and prepared to leave their separate ways. Usman and his constant companion trouped together singing and laughing raucously till the college gate. They hugged goodbye, and Usman felt that she held on for a little longer than usual. Her behaviour in the classroom came back to him. Once again he shrugged it off, shouldering his eternal knapsack and making his way to the bus stop.

He checked the time, he had twenty minutes to kill before his bus arrived. He seated himself upon a high wall near the bus stop from where he could see the numbers of the approaching buses, pulled out his headphones, made himself comfortable, and drowned himself in the world of psychoanalysis once again.

However, he was soon distracted by a commotion on the street in front of him. There was a massive traffic jam, spanning the entire length of the street, which was normal for this time of the day. However the commotion was all concentrated at a point directly in front of Usman. An ambulance was stuck right in the center of the jam, with its siren wailing out a hopeless lament, pleading the cars in front to allow it room to pass. A man lay inside, his life depending on whether the traffic could and would do so. People from the street frantically ran up and down shouting at cars to go this way or that, adding to the confusion. Every man in the jam wanted to get out of the way, but there was simply no room. This would take a good twenty minutes under the best of circumstances, and the desperation of the ambulance driver made it clear that the patient did not have that much time.

Buses went by unnoticed by mortified onlookers as they saw a man’s life drain out along with the sands of time before their very eyes. A mother clamped her child to herself, turning his eyes away from the spectacle. A college girl broke into hysterical tears. Men hurriedly formed mini gatherings, trying to think up some solution to this mishap waiting to happen.
Everywhere, humanity united in its dismay to solve this problem, and the more they willed its solution in unity, the more convoluted and confused their actions got. Twenty minutes later some of the traffic had moved, but the throngs that had gathered were still obstructing traffic in their attempts to help.

Usman saw all this without moving a muscle. He felt unaffected, unperturbed, calm. He saw the self created chaos of the crowd trying to “Do the right thing”, and the complete ineffectiveness of their endeavours, the hopelessness of it all. He saw the man driving the ambulance, face drenched in sweat, screaming and gesturing frantically to save this stranger’s life. He would soon be transporting his corpse. He saw all this and he began to giggle.

His reaction surprised himself, but on reflection it made sense to him. Everything in life was, after all, a farce, wasn’t it? Life was one long Theatre of the Absurd. He had read somewhere that life is tragic for those who feel and comic for those who think. He could not have agreed more. Viewed in a larger context, every single action becomes insignificant, meaningless, purposeless. There are no ideals, no goals, no objectives, everything is merely on its way to annihilation.

The farce was exacerbated by the fact that everyone around him had the absolute opposite reaction. Whilst they experienced horror, panic and dismay, Usman chuckled. His chuckle grew louder and louder and pretty soon he was laughing so hard that it began ringing in his own ears. He paused to catch his breath, but it continued to echo in him, sounding strange and foreign to himself and yet also somewhat familiar. It was then that he realized he was not alone. Just a couple of meters to his left he saw a man looking on the same spectacle with an identical reaction. That man too, was in fits of laughter at the predicament of the ambulance.

As Usman took in the man’s appearance, the laughter froze on his face and then slowly replaced itself with a look of wonderment mingled with fear. The man was one of the many homeless people who roam the streets of Pune. His hair was dishevelled and matted with dust. His face was covered with soot and made his teeth seem all the more garishly yellow in contrast as he wildly cackled. His clothes were in tatters, carelessly strewn over his body as on a man who no longer has society in his sphere of priorities. His emaciated structure underlined the squalor that he spent his life in. He wore a long, torn robe that he had left untied and was held together by mere strands. He wore nothing underneath, leaving diseased genitals open for the world to view. However, none of this was what shocked Usman. What stopped his laughter dead in its tracks was that this man was clinically insane.

Suddenly a flurry of words, conversations, moments, indications and forebodings flooded his brain. He remembered being bemused at the fact that two of his favourite authors had ended up in asylums. He remembered identifying with the Duchess of Malfi when she exclaimed that only through insanity could she feel sane in this insane world. He remembered feeling a weird alienation and reaction contrary to whatever the majority of mankind was exhibiting. He always felt like he was struggling against the current, and often wondered what would happen if he let go. After all, he may one day decide the struggle is too hard.

Freud's words rang back to him. "Everybody is neurotic".

Looking at the insane man, he noticed how the man’s unkempt attire was merely an exaggeration, an extreme example of his own kind of thinking. His own shabby sense of dressing came from a similar disregard of what society thought of him. The mad man’s laughter too, seemed like a mere exaggeration of the chuckle that had started from the depths of Usman’s belly.
The echoing of laughter in his ear, and the familiarity of his laugh now struck home.

Suddenly, the secret behind his friends’ concerned expression earlier in class today, the cause of the darkness behind her concern became clear to him. She could see what he was seeing now. She could see the path that he was walking and where it led to. She knew what lay in store if he continued viewing the world through his morbidity stained goggles.

Even as he thought of that moment, his friend passed before his eyes.
 She was driving her car, looking radiant, smiling to herself about something, driving, oblivious to him mere feet away from her.
And here he sat, contemplating his own ruin. Seeing his future being played out before himself, and being mortified by what he saw, and yet no less determined to follow the self same path nonetheless.

Once again, separated by a mere nothingness in terms of space, Usman felt that his friend and he lived in separate, perhaps parallel universes.

And as he saw her drive past, it seemed to him that there was a glow, a halo, an aura of whiteness around her. It was as if she dropped a little sunshine wherever she went. The world seemed fairer, cleaner, brighter, more conducive to hope and dreaming, just when she passed by. But then she was gone and the darkness closed back in again.

She turned a corner and was gone. Usman looked at the madman, then looked at himself.

Deep in his belly, another uncontrollable chuckle began to rumble as the manic tunes of Beethoven raged into his ears.

Thursday 2 April 2015

The Birth of a Cynic

Dark days, dark deeds, dark destinies, descend!
He has seen much light, pay him back his dividend
What! Lookst thou for meaning in thine meek life?
Seek out his light, bring it to an untimely end
Thus, and only thus, may man life comprehend!

Light memories, light passions, light dreams, abate!
He has seen much light, let him now dark contemplate
What! Thinkest thou deeds are rewarded in just measure?
Seek out his brightness, My Divine bloodlust satiate
He is no cynic yet! Introduce him to the cruelty of Fate.

Extinguish, exterminate, obliterate his bliss
Things that went well shall now all go amiss
What! Dreamest thou that goodness overcometh grief?
Seek out his radiance, Lucifer, My faithful accomplice,
Let him not love again till he has felt Death's kiss.