My Photo Travelogue : Istanbul & Scotland

My trans-continental travel ends in here in London, where I am at leisure, having access to internet. So, I post some of my photos of Istanbul & Isle Of Skye, Scotland. The one week long journey so far stretches me to many fragments of my being, I fell in love with Istanbul while Scotland mesmerized me.







(Isle Of Skye, Scotland)




(Istanbul, Turkey)


I will update my blog with my travel diary and experience when I come back to India. Until then, adieu.

My Recent Works

Notes To Myself : A Tale, A Pain, A Death

"When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but find it in the hearts of men."

- (As reads the epitaph of Jalal-ud-din Muhammed Rumi)


Alas!
You have shattered
The beautiful world
With the brazen fist;
It falls, it is scattered.

-(Goethe's Faust, lines 1607-11)



On the thirteenth day of her demise, when thirteen brahmins ate the sacred meal, I finally gathered the strength to write at least that which can be called her obituary. My paternal aunt (bua) passed away on the day of 31st July, leaving a never-ending pain on my soul which I know time can never heal.

Being the resident of same town, a close relationship germinated between me & her. I can still recall my early childhood which used to pass within the warm walls of her home. In fact, it was she who gave me the identification : my first name - Amit. Later, I was to ask her, while the question really bothered me during my early teen-age, meaning of my name. I remember, she told,' It means limit-less, so you are going to be.' This was the only lie that I knew she told me. I am not limit-less, never even going to be. I believe it was a lie to quench a boy's curiosity. Being born on the ominous date of 13th & growing up watching horror movies like 'Friday The 13th', I always felt that fate has parted ways with the boy who is born on such inauspicious date. But there was she, who not only filtered my infant mind of such vague ideas but also in some way taught me never to trust the numerological & astrological absurdities. Though she never felt herself that this was the beginning of my atheism which later was to grow into agnosticism, thanks to the numerous dead spirits. She laughed when a teen-age boy, born on 13th, refused to attend any pooja activites during diwali. Her laugh was a consent, for instead of preventing my own cultivation of ideologies, she stood against the whole family to spare me & let me do what I want.

Ironically, I became the center of her motherly love, for her only son was born mentally retarded. This mishap, I feel, forced her to grow me in the way what she preferred or else what I preferred. While my mother was preparing for my sister's birth, she brought me with herself to her home until the delivery. This temporary stay was to last for two years. The only mother I knew until then was she. My naughtiness reached to its fullest in her home, pulling her hairs with all the strength I got while reciting the poem which my uncle taught me. My uncle during all this act used to laugh merrily, for I was doing what he always wanted to do. Throwing the neighbor's two year old child in drain, I faintly remember, was my favorite.

Twenty five years later I was to witness her grasping for every breath in the dark corner of Intensive Care Unit of hospital.

Putting in the words of Nietzsche - the idyllic tendency of the opera, she became my confidant, hearing all the stories of my girl friends. Turning the tide she always would,' why are you fooling them ?'. & I would laugh on her innocent remark. I was to discover later in the words of Carl Jung - mater spiritualis, which gradually and innocently she became for me, efforting to prevent her son to commit any sin, which I never did.

Though I never live to eat but I must say that she was the best cook I ever knew. I used to arrive at her place without even informing her exactly at the time of lunch. I remember her getting angry, of my coming without any prior notice, though I had taught her how to use a mobile phone. But I knew she used to love my home coming, informed or uninformed. On the thirteenth day when I ate what others called the sacred meal, I knew, it was the last meal I was treating at her place. With every bite, I ate the solitude created by her absence. Au contraire, it increased. Stealing the glance of everyone I conflated my lone tear with her unseeable presence.
She suffered from severe arthritis which followed her like a ghost for six years. Having sought to the refuge of every specialist doctors in this case with her, I never managed to get her rid from this painful physical state. Some twenty days ago, she barely survived a major cardiac arrest which led her to begin a journey which was to end in death. Doctors informed me of multiple diseases apart from cardiac related, I knew then that she wont last long. For seven dreadful days, I stood by her bed, while she dozed in coma, unaware of my presence.

I felt for the first time that Assagiolian egg diagram is all wrong, for he forgot to mention the space occupied in our 'self' by those whom we love. Their departure creates a vacuum within us which can never be occupied, reminding us from time to time of their 'once-existence' by those small things which we inevitably tend to associate with them : memory. Her demise reminded me of my own, for I have also to go one day, induction of love for life rather then the fear of death. Things are never going to be same again. I miserably accept that it is not the death of our loved ones which causes pain but it is the shattering of our mirage : that every thing is permanent. She taught me even with her death.

The quintessence of all religions : fear of death. Exploitation of humanity on the name of surviving in some other world, waiting for day of judgment, the vague desire of humanity, which even Godard moans in his film 'À bout de souffle' : 'I want to be immortal. '
If Michel Foucault is correct when he says ,'Man is an invention of recent date', then it may be also correct in finding the answers to all the curious questions of death, which is yet to happen, one must investigate the recent date itself. Simply put, the question of future can be answered in present.
But what if science wins over death, as it has always been put into effort by the means of alchemy. If it happens, I doubt, there would be any trace left of religion. The immortal man, I suppose, cannot be religious. But would it pose another threat, as in Kafkaesque 'Metamorphosis' Gregor Samsa wakes up from a nightmare finding himself being transformed into a giant beetle, causing a disgrace to his whole family, an outcast. The science made immortal man would be far different from what we are today, unlike Gregor Samsa, but very much like a giant beetle. Neither there would be any Nietzsche's Übermensch in this scientific expedition. Whatever there would be, I may not live to see it.

Her death struck the very roots within myself, which was unwittingly growing into such ideas of immortality. I feel that I am being lessoned in the most vital chapter with her sad demise : immortality can be achieved only by mortality. Just like, she will live within me, always & I am dead within her.

The boy born on August 13th 1980, turns 27 years old today.

My 25 Odd Observations Of Myself

1. The way for me to live is to have no way.

2. People dying around reminds me of my own death. Rather, it makes my love for life stronger than to fear death.

3. I drag myself to the point where I don't condemn myself for my feelings, even when they are condemnatory.

4. I stutter when I am not in rhythm of myself.

5. I witness my breath when I lie down on my bed. It keeps me awake while I sleep.

6. When I see my mind, its purely gibberish & non-sense.

7. I cannot be more than what I am this moment.

8. If I have wings & I don't fly, the fault is all mine.

9. I expected those things from others that I never expected myself to do.

10. While talking to someone I feel like I am talking to myself.

11. There is always a difference in 'I should do', 'I want to do' & what 'I do'.

12. I thought that I know what is silence. I was stupid to have thought that.

13. When I sing I feel ecstasy. I forget myself when I sing. In other words, forgetting myself is ecstasy.

14. Boredom for me is getting tired of my thoughts.

15. I look into someone's eyes , I feel he is like me.

16. I think I know how to find 'it'. Stop looking for 'it'. I am not sure.

17. My opinions keeps on changing especially when they are about others.

18. When I say 'I disagree', I want to exhibit myself.

19. Mostly, the fault I see in others are all mine.

20. I feel lazy when I start making a list of 'things to do'.

21. I boast about the things which have occurred on their own.

22. I love. 'Who ?' is irrelevant.

23. When I say there is a God, am I not hiding my fear ?

24. I look stupid when I want to impress someone.

25. Are these statements a ploy to show my wisdom ?

My Chameleon Blog

So, my blog changes its colors again. To tell the truth, I myself wasn't satisfied with the change that I had done in its appearance. I conducted a poll then, the result of which nearly equals ( see right ).
The poll itself says it all, the blogger himself isn't feeling good of what he has done.
I turn the colors and appearance back to normal again. I hope the voters who found the change was better, won't mind.

3 thoughts for 365 days

1. Never read any health book, you may die of misprint.

2. Love your enemies. It makes them so damned mad.

3. Let us swear, while we may, for in heaven it will not be allowed.

On Friendship

"Man is a civilized animal"- so pens Plato some twenty four centuries ago. Today on friendship day, when I sit back in my home, with my friend, I am forced to put this entry as a token of respect for this day. " Man Needs Friends". By mere coincidence, I happen to be reading these days the climax saga of an amiable friendship of three teenagers popularly known as Harry Potter series. The bond they exhibit is the one that we all yearn for from our infancy-the search of a friend.
The most unfortunate chapter in any human life would be of not having any friend. It simply would display the isolation of one's spirit in order to unveil the personal secret identity which is abandoned from the rest of the world. The only possible way to attain friendship is to recognize the realism of oneness with other. Friendship is nothing other than a mere quality which grants the human soul the very objective of its living.

I have heard of one Madam Blavatsky who used to throw flower seeds during her train journey so that they bloom into beautiful flowers. Once asked she said,'I want to make this world more beautiful'.

This is what I call friendship.
Happy Friendship day to all my readers. May this day never end.

dans la solitude de la mort

For a few more

A Layman's Effort : Remembrance

When the spring comes, grass grows by itself.

Colors of Phoenix : Tushar Waghela Strikes Again

In the month of monsoon when whole existence gets filled with the music of rain-drops, in a quite corner of his house an unknown mystical artist was busy with his colors & brushes. Tushar Waghela, one of the closest friend of mine, has revivified himself from the scars of sunburn which deliberately put all of us into unknown but painful dreaminess. His vibrant work, this time has appeared as a "Rainmaker", somehow autobiographically. Whats more important ? The art or the artist ? I say, when the artist itself becomes the art.

The colors of phoenix : -



( The Alchemist)




( The song of rainmaker)




( The Dream seller )




( The philosopher )

I often find a clumsy similarity in his work & me. If in some other life, which I trust I am not going to be born again, I happen to be an artist, I would definitely paint in the manner that he does. Its the song of rainmaker, listen closely.

To Be Or Not To Be ?

Welcome, Amit

You are connected to 59,238,695 people through 119 friends. This is what my Orkut home-page reads. Just looking at the numbers displayed anyone would trust that I am an ace person in making friendship. Well, its partially true. This figure simply suggests the number of people I am acquainted with in the virtual world. The world that we all live in today is fragmented in two equally surviving entities : Virtual & Real. With the advent of cyberspace, along came such virtuality in our lives that we put ourselves distinctively into two separate identities, the pros & cons is yet to be manifested. For an instance, in Orkut itself I have found myself communicating to people who live steps away from my home & with whom my real communication remained infinitesimally small. But in the virtual we have chatted like old buddies. Interestingly, I own a taciturn friend in real world, who likes to maintain silence but in the virtual world his volubility is quite evident from his blog. He writes so many words that he may not be speaking that much in a year. Why to leave the odd, even I have been known to speak as less as possible but the readers of my blog may not agree with me on this (those who don't know me in person). This change of our personality is certainly evident in many ways when we swing from one world to another. We become someone else in the virtual world. All the friendship that we possess in the cyberspace is nothing more than digital, keeping us all connected with each others through Graham Bell's invention : Telephone. Even Marquez's One hundred years of solitude, in which gypsies come with new scientific discoveries to a forbidden village claiming them all to be some sort of magic from the farthest corner of earth, will fall behind this magical cyberspace. Even Dolly the sheep has never been cloned in this way as we clone ourselves in form of various usernames & passwords. Definitely not, this virtual world is no different than real world. Here also exist all sorts of sins which defies the human limit of its reliance on technology. Hunter is being hunted ? Our reliance on modern technology has went to such an extereme that we cannot think to move an inch without it. Ironically, even this blogger needs it to write such comments. Few years back due to some technical problem in main frame computer the whole eastern coast of North America went into dark for several hours, leading the life to make a sudden fullstop. There were no rails, no traffic lights, created such a havoc that it took atleast two days for the system to get normal. Once watching discovery channel, I was duly informed by that electronic medium that US President possesses a red briefcase in which a computer is installed, having all the codes of US nuclear missiles. If some day the President wakes up with a heavy head, gone nuts, he can easily end the existence of humanity in just one click of button. God Bless US President. Digital love Just few months back one of my friend left Orkut for some very awkward reasons. Someone used his photos in an effort to win females in some adult community. Though I managed to catch the culprit, I was shocked, that person has been known to me from quite a few time & he always personified himself as another re-incarnation of Lord Vishnu, never missing a single daily visit to temple. I inquired him why did he did this. His answer was more shocking, Aise hi. Similarly, while surfing along TV channels a few days back, I got hold by the news on some news channel about how a girl is being molested by his unknown Orkut friend. She was under the impression that the boy loved her. This digital love of her made her fall into deep pain. No Ink, No Pen, No Paper One of the worst consequence of dwelling so much in to virtual world has been, according to me, the ill effect on words. The words have gone digital now, filling the never-filling gap of dissimilarity in writing of two different people. Now, we all write alike. The effect: actual hand writing getting worse. Even this blogger is suffering with the same illness. My writing is getting worse. Unlike Mahatma Gandhi, who remained very depressed for his entire life about his bad handwriting, it does not concerns me much but still just to mention it, its really getting worse. The books also have become digital, changing the long corridors of library into silicon chips, the inevitable conversion into e-books. Coming back, does our existence in these two worlds necessary ? Worse : Is it moral ? To be or not to be , thats the question.

My Favorites :-

Here, I present a list of my favorite celluloids (blog provides a bigger space) along with the people off the screen & on the screen. To be mentioned, none of the list on the lower floor, are arranged in the order of preference. Also, I am providing the useful links below to ease out the readers for getting details.

Directors :-
Akira Kurosawa
Martin Scorsese
Woody Allen
Krzysztof Kieslowski
Ingmar Bergman
Roman Polanski
Jean-Luc-Godard
Stanley Kubrick
Blake Edwards
John Ford
Manoj Night Shyamlan
Quentin Tarantino
Michelangelo Antonioni
Bernardo Bertolucci
Federico Fellini
Pedro Almodovar
Mohsen Makhmalbaf
Satyajit Ray
Abbas Kiarostami
Francis Ford Coppola
Luis Bunuel
Frank Capra
Orson Welles
Guru Dutt
Vijay Anand
Gulzar
Vishal Bhardwaj

Movies :-
RAN
Safar e Ghandehar (Kandahar)
TEN
Citizen Kane
Casablanca
It happened one night
Silence of the lambs
Pulp fiction
Life of Brian
Maqbool
Pather panchali
Hable con ella (Talk to her)
Taxi Driver
Clockwork orange
The usual suspects
The Godfather
Three Colors : Bleu, Bialy, Rouge
Bande a part (Band of outsiders)
8 & 1/2
Guide
L, Avventura
Solyaris
Der Untergang
Annie Hall
Pink Panther (old)
The Sting
Requiem for a dream
Rear Window
The good, the bad & the ugly

Actors :-
Sir Anthony Hopkins as Dr. Lectar Hannibal in Silence of the lambs
Bruno Ganz as Adolf Hitler in Der Untergang
Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine in Casablanca
Clarke Gable as Peter Warne in It happened one night
Gregory Pack as Joe Bradley in Roman holiday
Clint Eastwood as Blondie in The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
Anthony Quinn as Alexis Zorba in Zorba The Greek
Henry Fonda as Juror in Twelve Angry Men
Forest Whitaker as Dada Idi Amin in Last king of Scotland
Marlon Brando as Don Corleone in The Godfather
Al Pacino as Michael Corleone in The Godfather 2
Ben Kingsley as M.K. Gandhi in Gandhi
Robert De Niro as Jake La Motta in The Raging Bull
Jack Nicholson as Randle McMurphy in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
Peter Sellers as Group Captain (G/C) Lionel Mandrake/President Merkin Muffley/Dr. Strangelove in Dr. Strangelove
Tom Hanks as Forrest Gump in Forrest Gump
Paul Newman as Butch Cassidy in The Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid
Robert Redford as Johnny Hooker in The Sting
Javier Camara as Benigno in Talk To Her
Toshiro Mifune as Tajomaru in Rashomon
Christopher Reeve as superman in Superman
Sir Alec Guinness as Professor Marcus in The Lady Killers
George Scott as General Patton in Patton
Mike Myers as Shrek(voice) in Shrek
Cary Grant as Roger Thornhill in North by Northwest
Gary Cooper as Marshal Kane in High Noon
Dustin Hoffman as Raymond Babbit in The Rain Man
Johnny Depp as Capt. Jack Sparrow in The Pirates of Carribean
Dev Anand as Raju in Guide
Amitabh Bachchan as Vijay Verma in Deewaar
Prithvi Raj Kapoor as Jalaluddin Mohd. Akbar in Mughal-e-Azam
Amjad Khan as Gabbar Singh in Sholay


Actresses:-
Audrey Hepburn as Princess Ann in Roman Holiday
Claudette Colbert as Elie Andrews in It Happened One Night
Meryl Streep as Karen Blixen in Out Of Africa
Marilyn Monroe as Sugarcane in Some Like It Hot
Bette Davis as Margo Chenning in All About Eve
Ingrid Bergman as Ila Lund in Casablanca
Linda Blair as Regan Teresa in The Exorcist
Vivian leigh as Scarlett in Gone With The Wind
Jodie Foster as Clarice Starling in Silence of The Lambs
Charlize Theron as Aileen in Monster
Katherine Hepburn as Christina in Guess who is coming to dinner ?
Nelofer Pazira as Nafas in Safar-e-Ghandehar (Kandahar)
Elisabeth Shue as Sera in Leaving Las Vegas
Hilary Swank as Brandon Teena in Boys Dont Cry
Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth 2 in The Queen
Ellen Burstyn as Sara GoldFarb in Requiem for a dream
Cecilia Roth as Manuela in Todo sobre mi made (All about my mother)
Isuzu Yamada as Lady Asaji Washizu in Kumonosu jo (Throne of blood)
Jean Seaberg as Patricia Franchini in A bout de souffle (Breathless)
Juliette Binoche as Julie Vignon in Trois Couleurs : Bleu
Judi Dench as Mrs Henderson in Mrs Henderson Presents
Sharon Stone as Catherine Tramell in Basic Instinct
Madhubala as Anarkali in Mughal-e-Azam
Sharmila Tagore as Pushpa in Amar Prem
Hema Malini as Basanti in Sholay
Mina Kumari as Nargis in Pakeezah


So, here's the list of some memorable performance on & off the screen by both genders. Readers may not find some popular names but to be noted that the world of cinema has infinite stars in it. Many are yet to be discovered by me.

Adieu.

So near yet so far

The announcement of results of PET & PMT in Chhattisgarh, as always, delivers a very awkward picture. The pupils of Bhilai have once again dominated the merit list (claiming nearly 50 seats in IIT this year), whereas Raipurians again have to put their faces in shadow, with only two students in the merit list.
The awkwardness, lies in the fact that both the cities though at a distance of only 35 kilometers but are poles apart when the assiduity of their youth are concerned. The yaksha question :- why ?

Albeit, Raipur is my native place, I was primarily schooled elsewhere, for my parents never felt that the town is a better place for education. For attaining my primary classes I had to reside in an alien place in Uttranchal, Ranikhet. Bhilai too, though for a short span of one year, became my educational refuge. The ambiance that town offers is very different from that of Raipur.

The Dissection
On analysis, of 'why' both near-by cities produces so different mentalities presents the whole socio-economic picture, which even can be applied to all popular system of thoughts.
Nehruvian dream of making India self-reliant in its industrial needs took a giant leap with the commencement of production of steel by Bhilai Steel Plant in 1959, with the help of India's faithful friend, Soviet Union. With this, a township area for its workers & officers also flourished near-by which later grew into the city of Bhilai. The Marxian proposition of work division for machine-cum-humans, eight hour work, eight hour rest, eight hour sleep became inevitably the mantra for this steel plant. This system of life also injected some neo-thoughts into the brains of its inhabitants. The more time passed, the more socialist Bhilai became. The division of residence according to their ranks in the plant viz HIG, MIG & LIG (Higher Income Group, Middle Income Group, Lower Income Group) helped this town to grow into a socially divided unit rather than caste divided, which unfortunately happened in most part of India. The education was also developed in such a way that the competitiveness can be pushed into child's mind from an early age since everything one can get in this town was by one's education. This engineering city to fulfill its own need was determined to produce some of the top notches of engineering products. In some way, this city became a metropolitan, for SAIL (Steel Authority Of India Ltd) deployed its officers & workers from all part of the country, to maintain a steady growth, though with time they familiarized themselves with local atmosphere. This congregation of best brains also led to make their descendants believe that books are the way to success.
All this, resulted in what we see today- the intelligent students of Bhilai.

Raipur, on the other hand, became more & more commercialized with the growth of Bhilai Steel Plant. Putting simply, Bhilai produced steel, Raipur sold it. The money started showering in to Raipur, inevitably leading it to follow a modern lavish lifestyle. To be mentioned, Raipur has always been the centre of political activities since the time of its being a part of central province. Still today, I assume that it is one of the most political cities of india.
The offshoot of all this money pouring in & political hot-pot resulted in a rather different development of youth mind. The political power & wealth became the primary target of majority of youth in this city. Though, these ambitions are not wrong in any way but the approach is. In Bhilai when a young man was dug deep into his books , the Raipur boy was staging a dharna for some political party or sitting in a shop selling consumer items.

The mere difference of 35 kms between both cities is like travelling into another world.
Both these cities are breeding the future of this state & nation.
Last night I saw a group of young boys fighting. On asking, they told me that they are passed-outs from high school.

So near we are, yet so far.

Garaj Baras : गरज बरस

धा धा धा,
धू धू ,
पेड़ों को छू-छू ,
खिसियानी बिल्ली सी,
घूमते फिरे लू ।

I remember papa reciting these lines for me from an unknown poet, when I was merely three feet high, trying to squeeze myself in the comfort of his arm, saving myself from the warm summer wind 'loo'. These winds always seemed to me the warm breath coming out of nostrils of god, furious at us, the sinful human beings. The fury, the heat, the summer.

We, the mortals, have already survived through the scorching months of April & May, yet trying our best to live through June. Its the time for Monsoon to knock our doors, with thundering & showering black clouds. Its time for Antonio Vivaldi's summer euphony to end.

I've always been in love with the rainy season. For me, at this time, Isis ( Egyptian mother goddess) dances all around, showering rain, & providing a new liveliness to near-dying earth.

I join reknowned urdu poet Nida Fazli, of what he prays for the arrival of raining clouds, & making this planet once again vibrant.

गरज बरस प्यासी धरती पर,
फिर पानी दे मौला।

Funnily enough, I came back yesterday from a week long trip to two metros, Chennai & Mumbai, & it started raining at both places as soon as I left ( thats what I have been told on the phone). Now, is it a jest played on me by mother nature ?
I hope to see the rains soon. Just looked out of my window this morning & saw dense black clouds hovering over the sky. Yippee !

Photo Album : The Sleeping Beauty

My one year old nephew Abhiraj. He may sound quiet while sleeping but I must assure that he can turn any normal ear to deafness by his shrieks.

All my love for him.

The Manchurian Candidates Of Dantewada

The morning of 26th April brought with itself a shocking news scribbled on an esteemed daily news paper regarding naxalite activities in Dantewada district. The news said that Yelam (a maoist leader active in Abhujhmad) has announced a new program in which the pregnant women have to deliver their child in temporary camps under constant observation of medical specialists of Woman Revolutionary Organization so that these children can be made devoted fully for the maoist ideology.

This about to take place brainwash reminded me of Richard Condon's thriller novel "The Manchurian Candidate" in which the lead character is brainwashed to become an unwilling assassin of communist party. Thanks to Mr. Condon, this unfortunate event never takes place & the world is being saved. But how the Manchurian candidates of Dantewada will be stopped ?

Though, it's not at all a new thing that Yelam has programmed for it is being done from centuries to brainwash the child into some ideology as soon as they start breathing. The communist ideology albeit it's claim of being the one where religion is considered to be opium of masses & has always covered itself under the atheist cloak but still no less it's methodology is different from it's counterpart. Demented Friedrich Nietzsche has the right answer of this perplexity, for he moans that one should be aware of fighting the devil, there is every chance of becoming the devil itself in the end. Fairly enough, in this case, one has all right to decide which one is devil. I enjoy liberty of being in the middle where both are devil for me.

The disturbing news roots in the future when we will be surrounded by the brainwashed Maoists, their eyes soared by the ideology that has been fed into them when they weren't capable enough to oppose it. The only way for them is to accept it all meekly paving the path of their becoming fidayeens .

A very good friend of mine once wrote in his poem

All is well,
All is hell.

The Story Of Storyteller

I got my hands on another of Tushar Waghela's painting : The Storyteller.
It came at the right time, I was really in need of a storyteller.

Notes To Myself : Interview with the first noble truth

It all changed with the blink of eye, turning every thing in my world Topsy- turvy, upside down. The people on whom I rested my soul as an emotional hideaway, backed out. Friends became enemy & lovers converted their religion to haters. This wasn't a phenomenon occurring in a single day rather it progressed slowly to strangle my throat. It happened in weeks behind my back & I merrily was sipping the wine that illusion was offering me.
I put myself in the accused box this time. It was I who invited the bull by showing him a red cloth. Now, when the bull has hit me on my ass I cannot go on whining about being a matador. I chose to be the matador & the danger of hitting by the bull came uninvited.

Tonight, it seems that Gautam the Buddha himself stands in front of my weak eyes with the flowers of his four noble truths:- 1. Life means suffering Dukkha, 2. desires bring suffering Samudaya, 3. the cessation of suffering is attainable Nirodha 4. the path to cessation of suffering Magga.
I am only aware with the first flower that Buddha offers, Dukkha ( still has some guts remaining to call it flower ). The rest is all words for me, for my soul still creeps in the hollow depth of life where it's all very dark.
But still I can hear the voice coming out of Ghaib ( nowhere ), calling me for a giant leap towards Buddha's eighth noble path "Sammasati" where every thing submerges in the existence.

I apologies to myself since I am the one responsible to bring my self in such a state.

I salute you Diogenes ( the teacher of art of ignorance ) for giving me a hand at such a crucial time of my life when every hand took no time to depart.

My Most Preferred Art works

I present here my most preferred art works, wherein I feel the need of making it clear that they are not in order of preference.

1) Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh




Starry night has always let me unveil the door of the world that is forbidden. It's the world of our inner self. Although, it's creator Vincent Van Gogh wasn't satisfied after it was completed. He thought that some thing else was to be done in this work which he couldn't able to. This, he confessed to his brother Theo in a letter.

This unusual work portrays a village & graveyard in the background while the tree in the front is uncommonly taller.
In my opinion the tree resembles human hand which is trying hard to touch the sky which is resembling infinity. For me, desires aren't infinite but there is always a desire of infinite. This desire is present in all of us in some or other form, some of us aware of this while some aren't. There has been from ages in humans a want to take a quantum leap from the world that we all see to the world that exist beyond this. Buddha's Nibbana was nothing other this quantum leap. The Vedic verses of "Mrityorma Amritam Gamay" (Take me from death to deathlessness) has been the desire of every human since the evolution of our breed.
It's expression has been one of the most difficult one since it goes beyond the words. Art in some extent has the strength to express.
For me, Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night has been the sutra of vedic verses.


2) Rembrandt's Philosopher In Meditation




What's human mind ? Rembrandt's Philosopher In Meditation answers it visually.
Philosophy & meditation, in my opinion cannot co-exist. Mediation starts where the philosophy ends. It's just like the difference between word & wordless.

I am in love with this work since it suggests to me the shape of human mind. In it a philosopher is sitting in a dark room with light coming only from window & stairs beside him go in puzzling way to up somewhere. This in perfect sense we are. Our mind functions in a puzzling way while we try to meditate on some affair ( though mediation only occurs when there is no affair). The stairs resembles the unending thought process of ours leading us to no where.

Rest is all dark.



3)Picasso's Guernica





Wow ! The one who believes in melancholy that ugly cant be beautiful must see this work of Picasso. Guernica is the painting by Picasso after the brutal bombing of the town of Guernica on April 26th 1937 during the Spanish civil war by Hitler's Luftwaffe killing almost 2000 people.

Following the theme it shows the brutality & violence portraying the after math of . The crushed skull & a soldier on the ground along with a horse injured by spear & a bull in panic shows us that when the sky is falling no one is spared.
Interestingly, Picasso also painted a flower growing out of the dead soldier's severed hands shattered by sword. In my opinion, he just wanted to tell us that the hands that can create, can also destroy.

What more attrocities can we do on our fellow human beings.
The dark back ground shows the silence after the destruction with a light bulb on the head of the horse depicting the hope of re-creation.
A woman, dumb-struck seeing blankly over the whole mess with astonishment depicting the mother nature of what we have done to ourselves.

Funnily, Picasso never expressed any views on this work & left it merely on every individual viewer.


4) Michelangelo's Pieta





Michelangelo's Pieta is one of those fews which unveiled the thick cover of egotism glued on my eyes & let out the saline water. I saw it placed beyond a glass cover in Vatican but at once I found it communicating with me.
Done on the tender age of 24 by Michelangelo, this work being the only on which he scribbled his name.

The statue shows Mary Holding Jesus right after his crucification, focusing right on the emotions of Mary. Her Motherly charm is vanishing with the holding of her son's dead body who has been punished for saying truth.

Mary is the mother. It reminds me of my own, while I trust that anyone seeing it would naturally be emphatic.




5) Tushar Waghela's Golden Buddha






Golden Buddha done by Tushar, an artist from Bhilai & more importantly a very good friend of mine, forced me to drive myself from the state of loquaciousness to taciturnity. I couldn't utter a word when I saw it for the first time while he was questioning me like Sherlock Holmes about how I felt for this work.

He painted Buddha in the color golden which has been for me the color of celebration. Buddha celebrating ? Thats what the tough job was. Buddha is considered to sitting meditatively under a tree but with the color golden Buddha seems to be breaking his image & dancing like Alexis Zorba. In the back ground he has painted various figure some of which human which in my opinion is nothing other than his depiction of human mind, while the Buddha super ceding the figures depicting the supervision of Buddha on his mind & transforming from Siddhartha Gautam to Gautam the Buddha.

Still the calmness on his face, for me, is very meditative. It's a communication that occurred between him & Mahakashaypa some twenty five centuries ago.

A work that snatched words from my tongue.



These are my five most preferred works ( not in order of preference). The views that I expressed on these works are entirely my own & can be objected by any one else. The reader has full liberty to disagree.