Pain

Pain, all-encompassing, sublime

A womb of Wisdom

A river of Tears

Truth, highest, Almighty

A giver of Boons

A Destroyer

Love, blind, all-accepting

A friend of Joy

A foe of Life

Life, vibrant, alive

The source of Consciousness

The beginning of an End

Truth, Light and Immortality

I recently came across a video on YouTube about the mantra 'Asato ma sadgamaya' . It had the photo of a child praying, with a voice in the background asking God to save us because 'we are born in sin'.

We are not.

Birth is not a sin, it is a miracle. The act of procreation (which is probably what the nitwit who made the video was referring to) is not a crime. It is the natural method by which the human race is supposed to propagate.

Even as someone who does not believe in the concept of an all powerful God, I seem to figure that if sexual intercourse was meant to be vile, it would not be so desirable. Surely, God who loves us would not have put such a temptation in our path, just to see if we would take the bait! We are supposed to be his divine creation, not worms he's playing with.

If God meant sex to be evil, as religion seems to claim (and I mean more or less all religion here), he's taken the joke a bit too far. I mean, shouldn't we have been provided with some other form of reproduction, if we're not supposed to have/enjoy sex? How is it that God didn't ask trees to have sex? Does he love trees more than he loves us, that he didn't place this 'evil' in their path?

Ergo, God could not have meant sex to be evil. If he indeed exists, he meant it as a gift that he only gave to the ones he loves the most. And, he also gave us the judgment to use it in the right way or the wrong. So, let's not blame our insecurities on God. Give the big guy a break.

Here's what I want to say to the person who created the video, and to all who think like them:

If you don't like/want sex, don't do it. But leave the ones who do like it, alone.
If I want to enjoy a gift my creator gave me, I bloody well have the right to.
If I want to enjoy my body and the beauty and power it has, I bloody well have the right to.
If my creator created me to enjoy the bodies of my fellow beings, and to provide them with pleasure and enjoyment, I will bloody well do it.

असतो मा सद्गमय
तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय
मृत्योर् मा अमृतं गमय
ॐ शांति शांति शांति

A Story

He said
She said
He said
She said

The Conversation.

He threw
She threw
They threw their words at each other
They threw sharp knives

The Argument.

He touched
She kissed
He held
She moaned

The Love-making.

Now its all gone
Like it happens with all stories
Locked away and stored
To be looked at one rainy day

He wonders...
She wonders...
They sigh...
They shrug
Neither forgot...
Both deny.

Life.

Non Family

Q: Why are men territorial creatures?

A: Because all of them have flags!



PS: If you have not seen Eddie Izzard's video on the clever use of flags in imperialism, you won't understand this joke. Watch the video

PPS: This joke is not an original. Credit goes to my friend Max.

Kitten on a warm summer afternoon

Rises she, from the cradle of golden sunshine
A small bed of green moss
Now drying...
It is late afternoon.





Life returns to those eyes
Life to those limbs
And the tiny tail, of course...
She's a month old kitten.

What passed the world while she slept?
What storms hidden in gentle sighs?
It is of no consequence.
It is now dinner time.

She listens to the faraway cry
Calling her to destination
She cannot overcome its charm
Mummy is nearby.

What great leaps and bounds cover
The journey to exhilaration
At long last the end is reached
Food, glorious Food!

So it fills to the brim
Oh sweet nectar of nourishment
She drinks of the cup of life
Quite a bellyfull of milk.





So sets the sun
So rises the moon
So the work of the day is done
And...well...the damn kitten is off to play, of course!

Jhinchak Bonglit (or, a fancy Bengali poem)

Through the jongole I am went
On shooting Tiger I am bent
Boshtaard Tiger has eaten wife
No doubt I will avenge poor darling's life.
Too much quiet, snakes and leeches.
But I not fear these sons of beeches.
Hearing loud noise I am jumping with start
But noise is coming from damn fool's heart
Taking care not to be fright
I am clutching rifle tight with eye to sight.
Should Tiger come I will shoot and fall him down,
Then like hero return to native town.
Then through trees I am espying one cave ,
I am telling self - "Bannerjee be brave"







I am now proceeding with too much care
From far I smell this Tiger's lair
My leg shaking, sweat coming, I start pray
I think I will shoot Tiger some other day.
Turning round I am going to flee
But Tiger giving bloody roar spotting Bengalee
He bounding from cave like footballer Pele
I run shouting "Kali Ma tumi kothay gele"
Through the jongole I am running
With Tiger on my tail closer looming
I am a telling that never in life
I will risk again for my damn wife!!!!


PS: This is not my composition. The poet is anonymous, apparently some Bengali school teacher.

PPS. If you're not a Bengali, you will not get the intonations. Ask a Bong friend to read it out for you.

Evening raga

Pet sitting a friend’s dogs has led me to her two bedroom apartment, in Banjara Hills, in the heart of Hyderabad. It’s a pleasant summer evening, by Hyderabad’s standards, of course. Anywhere else, I would be a warm evening. But this city can boast of being one of the hottest places on earth, at midday, I think. The heat is cunning. It does not reveal itself all at once when you step out unawares. At first, you’ll feel quite pleasant, actually, especially if you’ve just had a bath, and are walking cloaked in the freshness of aftershower cologne or perfume. You walk on, admiring the clear blue of the sky and the crispness of the air. If you live in the newer parts of the city, you’ll be passing pretty new houses (some with Greek arches in front of them). There’s a spring in your step, and you smile when you see those little yellow flowers growing on the boundary walls lining the pavement.

Soon, the heat gains on you. You start off by sweating a little, and it gets a little difficult to keep your tempo going. You slow down a little, your legs begin to ache a little. Slowly, you start looking around, to see if there’s an auto nearby. You secretly wonder why it feels like a long time since you last bathed. You’re walking all this while, but you’re considerably less enthusiastic. You slow down, and almost immediately, an auto pulls up next to you.

“Panjagutta? (pause, while autodriver looks at you uncomprehendingly) Panjagutta? (this time accompanied with your hand pointing in the general direction of your destination)”

You see him nod, and hop in, relieved. He turns the meter around, and you’re a lot more comfortable, looking out at the sun outside and realizing how unnaturally bright and hot it is.

But I have deviated.

My friends happens to be endowed with extreme good luck, where finding houses are concerned. She has two grown dogs and always manages to find cosy apartments, with luxurious terraces. The house before this one had a natural rock wall forming its backdrop! I’m given to more moderate luck in this department, and have only been able to find modest dwellings to live in so far. I have a kitten, though, if that is any retribution.

The apartment is the penthouse of a building that’s built on higher ground than its surroundings (no water-logging in monsoon!). This leads to its having a fantastic view of Banjara Hills (or a large part of it, at least) and all the way to the Birla temple. It is ablaze with lights in the distance and looks like an egg-shaped jewel stuck into the horizon. There is also a stadium nearby, where the floodlights are on because there’s a match going on apparently (more cricket, anyone?). Lots of lights, nice breeze, very romantic atmosphere. Food (paid for) is on the way…payment for pet sitting. In short, not bad at all!

Hyderabad apparently gets its name from Begum Bhagmati who worked her charms on emperor Quli Qutub Shah. No one’s told me how it came to be called Hyderabad, though. Some say Bhagmati was a gypsy girl. Not too many gypsy girls would be called Bhagmati. But it’s fun to link a king with a creature as mysterious as a gypsy, especially if you can link them romantically. Lots of possibilities. The young prince goes out hunting and comes across this wild thing in the forest, possibly out on a hunting trip herself. She will not let him kill the deer he’s aimed at. She hates the royalty. They kill without need, for fun. She kills for food, and knows how sacred life is. She looks at him, eyes blazing with anger, hatred and fear, neck proudly bent like a wild horse, arms on her hips. I dare you to shoot your arrow through me, her body tells him.

The Prince feels a stirring in his mind, which quickly travels elsewhere. I’ll shoot my arrows through you alright, he thinks, but not today, not here. He’s in love with her, he marries her, and gifts her a city.

Whew!