There is no home
Here now, there another
Alive now, still the next
Wanderer
29 November, 2009
Transition
A small girl
Small tears
A big girl
Now she must learn
The world has expanded
The wind blows in all directions
26 November, 2009
Emotions of the Past
You say that you don't love me.
And you shun my wild ways with a sigh.
You confess to want another desperately.
Then why do you always still catch my eye?
And you shun my wild ways with a sigh.
You confess to want another desperately.
Then why do you always still catch my eye?
JLA
22 November, 2009
Guyamas Sonora
In the hall I heard your faints falling,
your trial and my corrections made.You have all the prayers of my loose heart.
You have all the prayers of .
No I was not there on the church stairs.
The wind in my hair, a flood through my tear
18 November, 2009
Sad Love
He walked into her house and changed his shirt. She looked at him and felt love so strong within her. As always she loved him, even more now. She walked up to him and put her hands on his tummy and looked up into his eyes. As he looked down at her he could see the love in her eyes.
She said, 'I can't believe you are going to be three months pregnant in December'.
She hoped he could feel the love overflowing from her for him and her child inside him.
He said, 'I won't be able to fit into my shirts anymore'
She said, 'You can wear Jay's'
They both laughed. She stepped back from him as the sadness started seeping into her.
'It is sad that you don't like me even a little' she said looking down.
'Come here' he said opening his arms for her.
She went to him and they held each other. It was sad love as they stood in each other's arms. She felt the love, and as the seconds ticked by the love changed into sorrow and then the sorrow turned into the bitter feeling of knowing that he would never love her.
They broke apart and looked away while mumbling their goodbyes. She turned just in time to see his back before he closed the door behind him.
01 November, 2009
My Past, Present, and Future
Who am I? I am a representative. I represent some others of a generation. I represent and yet I am different. My difference is still defined by my culture, society... my politics of location. I feel like talking about me, as a representative of a generation.
I always knew that I did not know much about anything. But I was prompted to look again at my past and my present. This makes me think about what I want in my future. What prompted me to look again was the talk I attended by Asra Nomani on her struggles with religion. She was brought up in a certain religion with its twists of an impact of the American culture. The life she lived created for her a path to take within her religion that saved it for her and also was lost in part. It made me think about what religion meant to me. It reminded me of a generation. A generation I represent. Are you a part of this generation I speak of?
The Past
In India I was brought up in a house with two parents from two different religions. I would call myself Jain since my dad was a Jain and the children are thus automatically labeled with the father's religion. My father and his family were no practitioners of their religion and so as a child nor was I. My mother was a practitioner of her religion, Vaishnav. But since she was married into my father's non-religious family she let a lot of her religion go. My entire schooling was in a Convent of Jesus and Mary school. My main input of religion was Christianity. I was born in Jamshedpur (east India), lived all my life in Pune (west India) and my native place is in Gujarat (another state in west India). I know three Indian languages, English, and very little German.
This is the background which merely helps me understand how I know nothing well enough. I know a little about a mixed up version of Christianity. I hardly know enough about Jainism. Almost nothing about Vaishnav. My background knowledge of Indian culture is greatly affected by a huge input of western culture. I do not know the ancient stories well, nor the characters. The Gita is just a name of a book to me. Of all the languages I speak, I know English the best. And yet spoken English is often my weakness. None of the other Indians will say that I speak Hindi, Gujarati or Marathi well. In fact I sound like a foreigner when I speak any Indian language.
I am not rooted anywhere fully. Neither religion nor culture. I am Indian. When I say that, I mean, I lived in India. I have lived in India and seen the beggars, the dirty streets, the excessive honking in urban cities. My view of religion consists of riots and violence. Religious fundamentalism, blind beliefs, and rituals. Swinging from a belief in god to atheism to vedanta. I would hold on to Philosophy instead. Religion is corrupted. Something I do not even want to deal with. Talk about religion and you've lost me.
The Present
I study in the US. The only international student in a department of philosophy. I am supposed to know about my culture, my country, my history, my religion. I know nothing. My knowledge of India is challenged. It is abrupt, unfinished, and distorted. All I have with me is old and half-baked analytic philosophy. My beliefs seem small compared to the unknown philosophies I encounter. I am challenged to look again at my beliefs. I know more about the US than I know about India. I am concerned with the health care reform. Obama, and the Daily Show. I know the names of more people in the US government than in the Indian government. I am bombarded with new information and ways of thought and action that I have encountered before only in a dream in my own head. I am confused, challenged, and thrilled in cyclical succession.
The Future
I acknowledge that I only know something about somethings. I am seeking knowledge now about the culture I lived in. I am concerned about the farmers in India. I am concerned about the extremes. I am ready to appreciate and criticize. I am ready to immerse myself in India and the world. I want to know where I came from so I can know where I want to go. I long to be a global citizen. I speak to all who can identify with me.
Am I your reflection in rippling waters?
I always knew that I did not know much about anything. But I was prompted to look again at my past and my present. This makes me think about what I want in my future. What prompted me to look again was the talk I attended by Asra Nomani on her struggles with religion. She was brought up in a certain religion with its twists of an impact of the American culture. The life she lived created for her a path to take within her religion that saved it for her and also was lost in part. It made me think about what religion meant to me. It reminded me of a generation. A generation I represent. Are you a part of this generation I speak of?
The Past
In India I was brought up in a house with two parents from two different religions. I would call myself Jain since my dad was a Jain and the children are thus automatically labeled with the father's religion. My father and his family were no practitioners of their religion and so as a child nor was I. My mother was a practitioner of her religion, Vaishnav. But since she was married into my father's non-religious family she let a lot of her religion go. My entire schooling was in a Convent of Jesus and Mary school. My main input of religion was Christianity. I was born in Jamshedpur (east India), lived all my life in Pune (west India) and my native place is in Gujarat (another state in west India). I know three Indian languages, English, and very little German.
This is the background which merely helps me understand how I know nothing well enough. I know a little about a mixed up version of Christianity. I hardly know enough about Jainism. Almost nothing about Vaishnav. My background knowledge of Indian culture is greatly affected by a huge input of western culture. I do not know the ancient stories well, nor the characters. The Gita is just a name of a book to me. Of all the languages I speak, I know English the best. And yet spoken English is often my weakness. None of the other Indians will say that I speak Hindi, Gujarati or Marathi well. In fact I sound like a foreigner when I speak any Indian language.
I am not rooted anywhere fully. Neither religion nor culture. I am Indian. When I say that, I mean, I lived in India. I have lived in India and seen the beggars, the dirty streets, the excessive honking in urban cities. My view of religion consists of riots and violence. Religious fundamentalism, blind beliefs, and rituals. Swinging from a belief in god to atheism to vedanta. I would hold on to Philosophy instead. Religion is corrupted. Something I do not even want to deal with. Talk about religion and you've lost me.
The Present
I study in the US. The only international student in a department of philosophy. I am supposed to know about my culture, my country, my history, my religion. I know nothing. My knowledge of India is challenged. It is abrupt, unfinished, and distorted. All I have with me is old and half-baked analytic philosophy. My beliefs seem small compared to the unknown philosophies I encounter. I am challenged to look again at my beliefs. I know more about the US than I know about India. I am concerned with the health care reform. Obama, and the Daily Show. I know the names of more people in the US government than in the Indian government. I am bombarded with new information and ways of thought and action that I have encountered before only in a dream in my own head. I am confused, challenged, and thrilled in cyclical succession.
The Future
I acknowledge that I only know something about somethings. I am seeking knowledge now about the culture I lived in. I am concerned about the farmers in India. I am concerned about the extremes. I am ready to appreciate and criticize. I am ready to immerse myself in India and the world. I want to know where I came from so I can know where I want to go. I long to be a global citizen. I speak to all who can identify with me.
Am I your reflection in rippling waters?
28 October, 2009
20 October, 2009
Two Worlds
A sad song
Reminds me
Of myself
A happy song
Reminds me
Of myself
I turn on the news
For a few minutes
I remember the others
For a few minutes
I turn off the news
I am lost again
Long live
My world of dreams
My longing to serve
My longing for love
My longing to love
To make a difference
To absorb the world
As I am absorbed
By it
I am a mix of
Me
Myself
My world of dreams
I am a mix of
Trees
Farmers
Her tears
Sometimes I forget
What is outside me
Sometimes I remember
The pain she bears
I am torn
Wake me up
When I am lost
I remain yours
As I am mine
I hope that we are all constantly torn between the two worlds even though they are not two, but just one. But the struggle continues to move with and beyond my own world of dreams.
Reminds me
Of myself
A happy song
Reminds me
Of myself
I turn on the news
For a few minutes
I remember the others
For a few minutes
I turn off the news
I am lost again
Long live
My world of dreams
My longing to serve
My longing for love
My longing to love
To make a difference
To absorb the world
As I am absorbed
By it
I am a mix of
Me
Myself
My world of dreams
I am a mix of
Trees
Farmers
Her tears
Sometimes I forget
What is outside me
Sometimes I remember
The pain she bears
I am torn
Wake me up
When I am lost
I remain yours
As I am mine
I hope that we are all constantly torn between the two worlds even though they are not two, but just one. But the struggle continues to move with and beyond my own world of dreams.
13 October, 2009
The Day Naa Turned into an Analytic Philosopher
Naa was a regular guy. He did what regular guys did. Ate, slept, drank, and walked. Walk he did, up and down the town. As he walked he would think. Think thoughts and about thoughts. This is the story about the longest walk he ever took.
The sun was shining as Naa was walking. He looked around and saw the shops. One beside the other they all stood. All independent and different. He entered Dick's sporting goods, and he felt like he was in world of sports stuff. He entered the lingerie section of Macy's and all he could see for miles was stuff you wore under your clothes. His mind was jumping around. He looked at himself in his panties in the mirror and thought hmm... let me analyze this.
He walked on reflecting on his time in the shops. 'What does 'hard' mean' he thought to himself. Things get hard. Hard is hard. Hard is not soft. These sentences made him worried. 'Hard' he realized was not an easy word to define.
He walked on and realised he was inside a bubble. He thought that it was unusual, but he loved it anyway. He touched the sides of the bubble around him and they felt spongy to him. Instantly it came to him, this bubble was built in such a way that very soon he would know what hard meant!
As he walked he paused near a wall which was covered with numbers. He looked long and hard at these numbers. He realised in this case him looking 'hard' was different from him sitting on a 'hard' chair. He could see in his head now. Some one around him yelled the word, "HARD". Instantly he saw it. Then he knew. The numbers were overpowering him. He was unable to comprehend their meaning. But Naa was smart. He could see that nothing ever in the world, ever, ever, ever could deny 2 + 2 = 4. In fact when he looked around to see if this thought was true, he immediately found the evidence he needed. A poor old beggar was sitting by the road counting his money. 2 + 2 rupees = 4 rupees. Naa thought to himself, 'Ha if this old illiterate beggar knows this it must be true for all!'
He walked around in his bubble, in fact he would now move from one bubble into another. He wanted to teach everyone what he had realized. He yelled it out to everyone on the streets. "I am the King! 2+2 = 4!" They heard him and saw him. 'Aye' they said. He told them people on the streets from his bubble, "Its not 'aye', you must say 'yes'. DO IT!"
Bubble to bubble he walked realizing how everything was bubbles. How Naa wished others would see what he could see. A world full of decontextualized bubbles. How it gladdened his heart! His enlightenment seemed to light up the whole world. The fire in his eyes provided warmth to all around him. The words within in brain spilled out and formed buildings and factories.
He walked and walked and the words in his head spun around faster and faster. Just words and words and world of words. He decided to sit down for awhile and think. He sat down for oh so long. That was it. When Naa stood up again he was not the same. This was the day that Naa turned into a monster.
Then we sang...
Oh Monster Naa
You Stand so tall
Taller than the trees
You crush them all
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
Oh Monster Naa
You try to shoot us
We duck and hide
But your gun is rusted
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
Oh Monster Naa
You forgot your bubbles
You are trapped in them
Your universal troubles
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
The sun was shining as Naa was walking. He looked around and saw the shops. One beside the other they all stood. All independent and different. He entered Dick's sporting goods, and he felt like he was in world of sports stuff. He entered the lingerie section of Macy's and all he could see for miles was stuff you wore under your clothes. His mind was jumping around. He looked at himself in his panties in the mirror and thought hmm... let me analyze this.
He walked on reflecting on his time in the shops. 'What does 'hard' mean' he thought to himself. Things get hard. Hard is hard. Hard is not soft. These sentences made him worried. 'Hard' he realized was not an easy word to define.
He walked on and realised he was inside a bubble. He thought that it was unusual, but he loved it anyway. He touched the sides of the bubble around him and they felt spongy to him. Instantly it came to him, this bubble was built in such a way that very soon he would know what hard meant!
As he walked he paused near a wall which was covered with numbers. He looked long and hard at these numbers. He realised in this case him looking 'hard' was different from him sitting on a 'hard' chair. He could see in his head now. Some one around him yelled the word, "HARD". Instantly he saw it. Then he knew. The numbers were overpowering him. He was unable to comprehend their meaning. But Naa was smart. He could see that nothing ever in the world, ever, ever, ever could deny 2 + 2 = 4. In fact when he looked around to see if this thought was true, he immediately found the evidence he needed. A poor old beggar was sitting by the road counting his money. 2 + 2 rupees = 4 rupees. Naa thought to himself, 'Ha if this old illiterate beggar knows this it must be true for all!'
He walked around in his bubble, in fact he would now move from one bubble into another. He wanted to teach everyone what he had realized. He yelled it out to everyone on the streets. "I am the King! 2+2 = 4!" They heard him and saw him. 'Aye' they said. He told them people on the streets from his bubble, "Its not 'aye', you must say 'yes'. DO IT!"
Bubble to bubble he walked realizing how everything was bubbles. How Naa wished others would see what he could see. A world full of decontextualized bubbles. How it gladdened his heart! His enlightenment seemed to light up the whole world. The fire in his eyes provided warmth to all around him. The words within in brain spilled out and formed buildings and factories.
He walked and walked and the words in his head spun around faster and faster. Just words and words and world of words. He decided to sit down for awhile and think. He sat down for oh so long. That was it. When Naa stood up again he was not the same. This was the day that Naa turned into a monster.
Then we sang...
Oh Monster Naa
You Stand so tall
Taller than the trees
You crush them all
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
Oh Monster Naa
You try to shoot us
We duck and hide
But your gun is rusted
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
Oh Monster Naa
You forgot your bubbles
You are trapped in them
Your universal troubles
Oh Monster Naa, Your head is heavy
22 September, 2009
Zara
My Beautiful Zara,
How my heart aches
To think of your pretty face
Those beautiful curls
You were always
So calm, so loving,
So helpful, so caring,
So serene, so sad...
Your eyes spoke for you
The sadness of the years
Teenage passed away
Troubled and confused
Memories of fights
Sadness and hurt
The failed attempts
At leaving this life
Suddenly there was relief
A new phase, a new age
An opening in
The web of sorrow
You saw the light
It made you glad
You reveled in it
You found love
Years of tears
Seemed to have left you
Confident and eager
You faced the world
But, it did not last
You gave away your love
You lost yourself
In this hard world
It started eating you
You tried to surface
Unable to find him
Who would hold you up
Alas, young Zara
You did not stay
Though you wanted
To find a way
You tried so hard
And yet you lost
You left sweet Zara
You are gone forever
Beautiful Zara
I still can see her
But it is not her, only
Reflections in the river
How my heart aches
To think of your pretty face
Those beautiful curls
You were always
So calm, so loving,
So helpful, so caring,
So serene, so sad...
Your eyes spoke for you
The sadness of the years
Teenage passed away
Troubled and confused
Memories of fights
Sadness and hurt
The failed attempts
At leaving this life
Suddenly there was relief
A new phase, a new age
An opening in
The web of sorrow
You saw the light
It made you glad
You reveled in it
You found love
Years of tears
Seemed to have left you
Confident and eager
You faced the world
But, it did not last
You gave away your love
You lost yourself
In this hard world
It started eating you
You tried to surface
Unable to find him
Who would hold you up
Alas, young Zara
You did not stay
Though you wanted
To find a way
You tried so hard
And yet you lost
You left sweet Zara
You are gone forever
Beautiful Zara
I still can see her
But it is not her, only
Reflections in the river
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