[I wrote this poem in 2004, the only one for the year. This isn't my best work, but I do feel its nice to punctuate my articles with these little poems, so as to cater to people of all tastes, at least as far as my very limited repertoire would allow.]
By th south side of my garden
Just beside the lowest stair
Stands one solitary blade of grass-
Small and thin from lack of care.
It doesn't bear no daffodils
That poets so admire,
Nor does it bear fruits so sweet-
That fill our hearts with desire.
Yet its tender, dainty form
Recalls maidens not past their prime;
In colour mimicking their eyes-
Dark green whirlpools in time.
And perish it might this very hour
Fighting its long lost battle-
Trampled by one brutal tread;
Consumed by some hungry cattle.
But when I see you little one
Gently swaying in the air:
You alone seem to say
That you're happy to be there.
Yours sincerely
Jude
Friday, November 2, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
On God - first post
I had certain misgivings about writing on this particular topic for sure, for I'm no religious person in the eyes of the world, and am little acquainted with religious texts and doctrines as it is. But then, I thoroughly believe that religion in itself has very little to do with God. Religion basically consists of certain dictates that allow man to coexist with society and the creation as a whole. God is merely an auxiliary concept, in order to justify those dictates, nothing more. But when one recognizes the mere triviality of one's self in comparison to the entire universe, one's head invariably bows down with reverence and fear of an unknown omnipotent.
Now I tend to go with Einstein's concept of a personal God. Unto each man is his own God. One can never really say for sure whether God exists or not, so what can be better than create in your own mind the most reverenced image of Him that you can think of, for is it not true as well that unto each man is his own code of morality? He may not be the all-powerful providence presiding over everything on heaven and earth, and sparing none on His Day of Judgment. For some he may be a down-to-earth day to day kinda guy, who makes the most of his life and what he has, for others it may be the love of their life, and so forth.
We are all autonomous creatures. We have complete control on everything we do. Is it too conceited on our part to think of it this way, viz the fact that we exist makes the world around us exist, for there really is no world beyond that we may perceive. If we take up the newspaper one fine morning and find out that there's an Ebola outbreak in Zaire, it is to us merely an an article in a newspaper, nothing more. And it is not an illusion, this, it really does not exist beyond print until and unless it spreads over to our neighbourhood, or we make up our mind to travel to Zaire then and there. One may tell me that I have no heart, and I am too selfish to think beyond my own narrow walls, but dear friends, such is the unimpeachable truth. Similarly, all that we see look the way they do simply because we see them that way, and it has nothing to do with the things themselves. Therefore for the colourblind, there may be only one shade of red, although for others they may be by the hundreds. It is not true that somethings wrong with him, it is merely that in his world only one shade of red exists. And the blind are blind because they have decided a world for themselves where seeing is undefined, or differently defined. Hence it is we ourselves who give shape to the world around us. Therefore are we not the creators of the world, are we not Gods ourselves?
You may ask me what my God is like. Well what with the newfound liberty in this matter, I may finally have my say. I, too, as most others believe in the omnipotence of God. It is the traditional concept of omnipotence that I have a problem with. God is truly the Almighty, and no one stands above him. Hence there is no point whatsoever in asking His forgiveness for follies committed by us on Earth. In fact such a line of thought is irreverent, for to ask forgiveness of one who is in total control of everything is equivalent to blaming him for the deed, because it could not possibly be done without his consent. Therefore the only way we may address Him is in prayer, and our pleas should be such that no hopes of their being acknowledged are ever entertained, for it diminishes their worth as a prayer, and makes it seem more like a dictate unto Him, which is absurd to say the least.
But then, my God does not judge people. Nothing we may ever do is wrong in His eyes for all that we do are mere reflections of His own self. The moments in which we may get a glimpse, a brief trailer of his dazzling splendour is when we see something really, really beautiful, something that makes us very happy. Indeed, it is simply those moments that we live for, and is it not God that makes us live?
Yours sincerely
Jude
Now I tend to go with Einstein's concept of a personal God. Unto each man is his own God. One can never really say for sure whether God exists or not, so what can be better than create in your own mind the most reverenced image of Him that you can think of, for is it not true as well that unto each man is his own code of morality? He may not be the all-powerful providence presiding over everything on heaven and earth, and sparing none on His Day of Judgment. For some he may be a down-to-earth day to day kinda guy, who makes the most of his life and what he has, for others it may be the love of their life, and so forth.
We are all autonomous creatures. We have complete control on everything we do. Is it too conceited on our part to think of it this way, viz the fact that we exist makes the world around us exist, for there really is no world beyond that we may perceive. If we take up the newspaper one fine morning and find out that there's an Ebola outbreak in Zaire, it is to us merely an an article in a newspaper, nothing more. And it is not an illusion, this, it really does not exist beyond print until and unless it spreads over to our neighbourhood, or we make up our mind to travel to Zaire then and there. One may tell me that I have no heart, and I am too selfish to think beyond my own narrow walls, but dear friends, such is the unimpeachable truth. Similarly, all that we see look the way they do simply because we see them that way, and it has nothing to do with the things themselves. Therefore for the colourblind, there may be only one shade of red, although for others they may be by the hundreds. It is not true that somethings wrong with him, it is merely that in his world only one shade of red exists. And the blind are blind because they have decided a world for themselves where seeing is undefined, or differently defined. Hence it is we ourselves who give shape to the world around us. Therefore are we not the creators of the world, are we not Gods ourselves?
You may ask me what my God is like. Well what with the newfound liberty in this matter, I may finally have my say. I, too, as most others believe in the omnipotence of God. It is the traditional concept of omnipotence that I have a problem with. God is truly the Almighty, and no one stands above him. Hence there is no point whatsoever in asking His forgiveness for follies committed by us on Earth. In fact such a line of thought is irreverent, for to ask forgiveness of one who is in total control of everything is equivalent to blaming him for the deed, because it could not possibly be done without his consent. Therefore the only way we may address Him is in prayer, and our pleas should be such that no hopes of their being acknowledged are ever entertained, for it diminishes their worth as a prayer, and makes it seem more like a dictate unto Him, which is absurd to say the least.
But then, my God does not judge people. Nothing we may ever do is wrong in His eyes for all that we do are mere reflections of His own self. The moments in which we may get a glimpse, a brief trailer of his dazzling splendour is when we see something really, really beautiful, something that makes us very happy. Indeed, it is simply those moments that we live for, and is it not God that makes us live?
Yours sincerely
Jude
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Another Poem
[This poem I wrote back in 2006. In fact I wrote two poems on a single day back then. This is the second one. The other, I shall also post, but that will come later. It is entitled 'A (stray) Dog's life'.]
Kindly eyes on a comely face;
Brave vagabond of the streets-
Gladly reposing in the grime
While others sleep on satin sheets.
Wealth and riches, glory, fame-
Of them, what do you know?
Fears and cravings, tears and pain-
You've conquered them long ago.
Hunger gnawing at your heart:
Fears and restraints, they depart.
Striving forth in ways unwise,
One scraggy bone the only prize.
But once you've earned your daily bread-
All your sorrows, watch them fade.
Lie down gentle, close your eyes;
You've entered canine paradise.
Yours sincerely
Jude
Kindly eyes on a comely face;
Brave vagabond of the streets-
Gladly reposing in the grime
While others sleep on satin sheets.
Wealth and riches, glory, fame-
Of them, what do you know?
Fears and cravings, tears and pain-
You've conquered them long ago.
Hunger gnawing at your heart:
Fears and restraints, they depart.
Striving forth in ways unwise,
One scraggy bone the only prize.
But once you've earned your daily bread-
All your sorrows, watch them fade.
Lie down gentle, close your eyes;
You've entered canine paradise.
Yours sincerely
Jude
On Morality
I say, what exactly is the whole idea behind good or bad? One can rephrase this question as follows: when we do something, do we have a choice? Could we possibly withdraw if we wanted to?
Now, if we take the scientific approach and all, then the question has little meaning, for science, or at least physics does not exactly distinguish between the living and the inanimate. Therefore, within the realm of science, such a discussion is, by default, futile. But casting aside this approach for the moment, let us stop to analyze ourselves a bit. We all have regrets, almost all the time about petty things to things of mammoth proportions that weigh down on us like a road roller, and possibly much more frequently than we care to admit even to our selves. But the fact is that we never really learn, and at most learn to live with our mistakes.
My firm belief is that Man is never really responsible for his actions, and to consider yourself to be in command is possibly the greatest delusion of all. Obviously, this may be interpreted as a license to unlimited wickedness, but then we cannot be wicked beyond a certain measure wisely proportioned unto each. Likewise, there is a strict upper limit on our capacity to do good.In this manner, Man is no better than animals, as everything he does is solely to satisfy some immediate need.
Such a comparison is by no means degrading. On the other hand, it is rather beautiful. Consider this world running solely on the principle of immediate gain. Every breath you take, every move you make, gives you greater peace than before. In this way, everything that you do adds up to your peace of mind. Thus doing good or bad is for us purely a primal need, just like hunger, sleep etc. And can you really punish anyone for going out of the way to satisfy such needs as those? And this applies not to you alone, but to every living creature on the planet. And for this very reason we are all one and the same - the daffodils in a lonely garden, the flock of geese at the break of dawn, the cattle in the field, every one of them!
So the question that automatically rears up is whether all forms of punishment be abolished? Well, I guess we couldn't if we tried, desirable as it might be. For there is in us this desire for vengeance and retribution, along with the omnipotent fear that will forever compel us to inflict punishments upon wrongdoers,just as another part of us will plead for mercy and emancipation. Nothing wrong with either I assure you, merely a trait, or a way of the world. Hence, blasphemous though it may sound, I couldn't logically respect Mother Teresa any more than the greedy capitalist that sucks the lifeblood out the poor. For it was in Mother Teresa an all encompassing need to do good. She couldn't have lived in any other way even if she tried, nor could the aforementioned capitalist, for not unto him was rendered this wonderful gift. I guess, she new it, too, and therein lay that sea of universal love.
Therefore, it is a remarkably stupid thing to hate people. It is not uncommon for the just, benevolent men-of-the-world to show great compassion for beggars and the downtrodden. But just think about the unlucky ones that are repelled by the mere sight of them! One should feel sorry rather than angry when one sees them kick away a beggar as though he were a curse,
for the curse is upon them that they are so greatly perturbed by so trivial a thing. Hence, the best way to go about it is to love one and all irrespective of their deeds and ways. It is by no means an easy matter, and may be acquired only through long and rigorous self-training. But then, sometimes when you are all alone and have nothing much to do, you might give this mode of thought a thought, and then feel the surge of love welling out from within. Do it right and you will be blown away by the current, and therein shall lie your true salvation.
Now, bear in mind that I do not practise all that I preach. In fact I am nowhere near, merely one of the multitude, absorbed in my own petty regrets and foolish hate. Regardless, I firmly believe that this is the best path of all, and for the effort that I have put into this article, may somebody, somewhere be a tiny bit happier than he was.
Yours sincerely
Jude
Now, if we take the scientific approach and all, then the question has little meaning, for science, or at least physics does not exactly distinguish between the living and the inanimate. Therefore, within the realm of science, such a discussion is, by default, futile. But casting aside this approach for the moment, let us stop to analyze ourselves a bit. We all have regrets, almost all the time about petty things to things of mammoth proportions that weigh down on us like a road roller, and possibly much more frequently than we care to admit even to our selves. But the fact is that we never really learn, and at most learn to live with our mistakes.
My firm belief is that Man is never really responsible for his actions, and to consider yourself to be in command is possibly the greatest delusion of all. Obviously, this may be interpreted as a license to unlimited wickedness, but then we cannot be wicked beyond a certain measure wisely proportioned unto each. Likewise, there is a strict upper limit on our capacity to do good.In this manner, Man is no better than animals, as everything he does is solely to satisfy some immediate need.
Such a comparison is by no means degrading. On the other hand, it is rather beautiful. Consider this world running solely on the principle of immediate gain. Every breath you take, every move you make, gives you greater peace than before. In this way, everything that you do adds up to your peace of mind. Thus doing good or bad is for us purely a primal need, just like hunger, sleep etc. And can you really punish anyone for going out of the way to satisfy such needs as those? And this applies not to you alone, but to every living creature on the planet. And for this very reason we are all one and the same - the daffodils in a lonely garden, the flock of geese at the break of dawn, the cattle in the field, every one of them!
So the question that automatically rears up is whether all forms of punishment be abolished? Well, I guess we couldn't if we tried, desirable as it might be. For there is in us this desire for vengeance and retribution, along with the omnipotent fear that will forever compel us to inflict punishments upon wrongdoers,just as another part of us will plead for mercy and emancipation. Nothing wrong with either I assure you, merely a trait, or a way of the world. Hence, blasphemous though it may sound, I couldn't logically respect Mother Teresa any more than the greedy capitalist that sucks the lifeblood out the poor. For it was in Mother Teresa an all encompassing need to do good. She couldn't have lived in any other way even if she tried, nor could the aforementioned capitalist, for not unto him was rendered this wonderful gift. I guess, she new it, too, and therein lay that sea of universal love.
Therefore, it is a remarkably stupid thing to hate people. It is not uncommon for the just, benevolent men-of-the-world to show great compassion for beggars and the downtrodden. But just think about the unlucky ones that are repelled by the mere sight of them! One should feel sorry rather than angry when one sees them kick away a beggar as though he were a curse,
for the curse is upon them that they are so greatly perturbed by so trivial a thing. Hence, the best way to go about it is to love one and all irrespective of their deeds and ways. It is by no means an easy matter, and may be acquired only through long and rigorous self-training. But then, sometimes when you are all alone and have nothing much to do, you might give this mode of thought a thought, and then feel the surge of love welling out from within. Do it right and you will be blown away by the current, and therein shall lie your true salvation.
Now, bear in mind that I do not practise all that I preach. In fact I am nowhere near, merely one of the multitude, absorbed in my own petty regrets and foolish hate. Regardless, I firmly believe that this is the best path of all, and for the effort that I have put into this article, may somebody, somewhere be a tiny bit happier than he was.
Yours sincerely
Jude
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
A poem
[Here's a poem I wrote when I was just about 15 [year 2001]. I rather fancied my chances back then in literature, and it may be sheer optimism that made me believe this was a nice effort, although I like it still. I'd titled it 'Freedom'. Here's the poem.]
I am a child again-
A small, tender naked child.
I run on the shores of the of eternity,
I die only to be born again.
I am not ashamed of my nudity,
I do not wipe off the stream of tears that run down my cheeks;
I laugh aloud and shout my heart out-
My purity shall answer for my sins.
I am surrounded by other children-
Children with different features, sizes and colours,
Children with hearts just like mine-
Its our childhood that binds us.
Over the horizon, I see the sun rise.
I hear the rising sounds of laughter around me.
I stand motionless until it is all I can stand-
I clap my hands and rush towards the Sun
And me and the Sun are one.
yours sincerely
Jude
yours sincerely
Jude
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The Catcher in The Rye - First post
The catcher in the rye is an extraordinary book - extraordinary in the sense that nothing like it has probably ever been written in the whole history of mankind (or at least as much of it as I happen to know, anyway). This is my all time favourite book, and you might expect more on this from me - hence the title 'first post'. Salinger was an author par excellence, although that's not an expression he'd himself use, for his detestation for 'phony' words was proverbial. So with due respect to Jerome D. I'd try from now on to keep it to bi-syllables at best.
There's this guy you see, Holden. Holden is a darned bad student (although by no means a bad learner) and when he flunks in all four subjects but English, he is given the sack at the esteemed Prencey Prep school. Not wishing to cause further anguish to his long tormented parents (Holden had lost a brother, Allie to leukaemia four years prior to the time of this book. His brother's death forever haunts him), he decides to run away all alone to his hometown, (that's New York City for you) without giving a damn as to what he would be doing there.
So Holden, who's a rich man's son, promptly runs up to this real charming hotel where all sorts of 'flits', 'perverts', whores and the omnipresent 'phonies' rule the roost. However there's this one question that's on his mind all the time, and which he puts forward to the cabbies and such, namely, where do the ducks at Central Park go when the lake freezes over (Holden, he himself confesses is slightly on the retarded side as things go), and he discovers to his utter surprise that this question is kind of a taboo, and nobody wants to hear about it. It is as if they are suddenly awaken to there own ignorance, or are ashamed of the fact that they didn't think it out for themselves.
The duck question and the school expulsion thing are not the only troubles Holden has. The real menace, the one that he shall have to put up with all his life is an unsurpassingly keen, almost perfect sense of beauty, and this world, in all its ugliness often beyond his endurance.Therefore he is forever bored of just about everything, even the things that he likes to do, such as watching movies, or talking to girls he knows. His sole aspiration in life is to be 'The Catcher in The Rye' - he sees his world as a field of rye in which children are playing and there's this edge of this cliff. Holden merely wants to wait by there and watch them play, and catch anyone if they are about to go over the edge.
Holden doesn't like to talk to people much, although he's glib enough when he does. What he plans to do is pretend that he's a deaf- mute. In that way he wouldn't be expected to talk to anyone and since to talk to him people would have to write it down or something, they would soon get tired of it and learn to keep away. Then he'd take this job down at some gas station, where he'd be able to earn his keep, and then maybe he'd meet up with this really beautiful deaf-mute girl, then they'd marry and she'll be making these babies whom they'll give real nice books to read (Holden was a voracious reader, taking in just about everything from classics to more contemporary works) and this way the'd have the time of their life.
I shan't tell you about how he finally got back home and made it up with his parents and his little sister Phoebe ( who is seven and writes detective novels under various 'pseodo-middle-nyms' and is currently taking lessons in belching from a classmate) or even what all adventures he had during his exile, because for one thing the actual storyline, plot etc. hardly matter. Its all about Holden and what goes inside that head (with quite a lot of gray hairs) of his. Neither will I do the fatal error of analyzing it, as subjecting a work to critical analysis is probably the cruelest thing you can do to literature. So this is where I bid adieu to my readers, only to show up unperturbed by the scarcity of comments with the very next post.
Yours sincerely
Jude
There's this guy you see, Holden. Holden is a darned bad student (although by no means a bad learner) and when he flunks in all four subjects but English, he is given the sack at the esteemed Prencey Prep school. Not wishing to cause further anguish to his long tormented parents (Holden had lost a brother, Allie to leukaemia four years prior to the time of this book. His brother's death forever haunts him), he decides to run away all alone to his hometown, (that's New York City for you) without giving a damn as to what he would be doing there.
So Holden, who's a rich man's son, promptly runs up to this real charming hotel where all sorts of 'flits', 'perverts', whores and the omnipresent 'phonies' rule the roost. However there's this one question that's on his mind all the time, and which he puts forward to the cabbies and such, namely, where do the ducks at Central Park go when the lake freezes over (Holden, he himself confesses is slightly on the retarded side as things go), and he discovers to his utter surprise that this question is kind of a taboo, and nobody wants to hear about it. It is as if they are suddenly awaken to there own ignorance, or are ashamed of the fact that they didn't think it out for themselves.
The duck question and the school expulsion thing are not the only troubles Holden has. The real menace, the one that he shall have to put up with all his life is an unsurpassingly keen, almost perfect sense of beauty, and this world, in all its ugliness often beyond his endurance.Therefore he is forever bored of just about everything, even the things that he likes to do, such as watching movies, or talking to girls he knows. His sole aspiration in life is to be 'The Catcher in The Rye' - he sees his world as a field of rye in which children are playing and there's this edge of this cliff. Holden merely wants to wait by there and watch them play, and catch anyone if they are about to go over the edge.
Holden doesn't like to talk to people much, although he's glib enough when he does. What he plans to do is pretend that he's a deaf- mute. In that way he wouldn't be expected to talk to anyone and since to talk to him people would have to write it down or something, they would soon get tired of it and learn to keep away. Then he'd take this job down at some gas station, where he'd be able to earn his keep, and then maybe he'd meet up with this really beautiful deaf-mute girl, then they'd marry and she'll be making these babies whom they'll give real nice books to read (Holden was a voracious reader, taking in just about everything from classics to more contemporary works) and this way the'd have the time of their life.
I shan't tell you about how he finally got back home and made it up with his parents and his little sister Phoebe ( who is seven and writes detective novels under various 'pseodo-middle-nyms' and is currently taking lessons in belching from a classmate) or even what all adventures he had during his exile, because for one thing the actual storyline, plot etc. hardly matter. Its all about Holden and what goes inside that head (with quite a lot of gray hairs) of his. Neither will I do the fatal error of analyzing it, as subjecting a work to critical analysis is probably the cruelest thing you can do to literature. So this is where I bid adieu to my readers, only to show up unperturbed by the scarcity of comments with the very next post.
Yours sincerely
Jude
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Beginning
Hello friends,
This is my first blog. Let me tell you how it all came about. Well you see, what with this engineering college stuff and all( I am ,by the way studying at one, third sem) I have been darned and outright sick of my godforsaken life(you have to be in an engineering college in India to know what i'm talking about, although I pray for your sake that such a catastrophe might forever be averted). And the best way to get rid of your blues is to give them a vent of some sort, you know, some kind of an outlet where you can give everybody a real piece of your mind.Hence the blog. you may treat this link as an e-diary, although that's not exactly what its meant to be; it is more of a channel for random thoughts that come to the mind out of nowhere and disappear in a matter of minutes. (And also, undeniably, a modest way to satisfy my congenital narcissus complex.) Some of these thoughts I find worth cherishing, and one of these days, provided the temperature in your room is just right, so might you.
Well, what more can I say! i'd very much appreciate it if you take out a little of your precious time to cast a glance over this page. And do please post comments, honest ones (for which reason I have decided not to activate the 'moderate comments' option, although there happens to be such an option). I have promised to myself that I shall maintain a wholesome rate of a blog a day, but I know that I will not be able to keep up. You may find not one new post for a whole week, and then all of a sudden there may be two posts on a single day. I have decided to sign myself as Jude, a name that all my friends here have rendered unto me simply because I happen to wholeheartedly love the song 'Hey Jude' (I'll write a blog on that someday), and nothing to do with Jude, The Obscure, in whom I do happen to find many a similarity. But nobody here reads or stuff, so they will never know (reading, that's another prospective topic).
But goodbye for now.. and happy reading.
Yours sincerely,
Jude
This is my first blog. Let me tell you how it all came about. Well you see, what with this engineering college stuff and all( I am ,by the way studying at one, third sem) I have been darned and outright sick of my godforsaken life(you have to be in an engineering college in India to know what i'm talking about, although I pray for your sake that such a catastrophe might forever be averted). And the best way to get rid of your blues is to give them a vent of some sort, you know, some kind of an outlet where you can give everybody a real piece of your mind.Hence the blog. you may treat this link as an e-diary, although that's not exactly what its meant to be; it is more of a channel for random thoughts that come to the mind out of nowhere and disappear in a matter of minutes. (And also, undeniably, a modest way to satisfy my congenital narcissus complex.) Some of these thoughts I find worth cherishing, and one of these days, provided the temperature in your room is just right, so might you.
Well, what more can I say! i'd very much appreciate it if you take out a little of your precious time to cast a glance over this page. And do please post comments, honest ones (for which reason I have decided not to activate the 'moderate comments' option, although there happens to be such an option). I have promised to myself that I shall maintain a wholesome rate of a blog a day, but I know that I will not be able to keep up. You may find not one new post for a whole week, and then all of a sudden there may be two posts on a single day. I have decided to sign myself as Jude, a name that all my friends here have rendered unto me simply because I happen to wholeheartedly love the song 'Hey Jude' (I'll write a blog on that someday), and nothing to do with Jude, The Obscure, in whom I do happen to find many a similarity. But nobody here reads or stuff, so they will never know (reading, that's another prospective topic).
But goodbye for now.. and happy reading.
Yours sincerely,
Jude
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