Prisoner(P): Its odd to have the freedom and not know what to do with it, your majesty.
Night Queen (NQ): You should have listened to the Nightingale a little longer.
P: I'm afraid I'm no good at songs. Or sketches. Or dances.Or any other form of expression you encourage.
NQ: Are you aware of all that I encourage or discourage? Are you even aware of all forms of expression?
P: Well...
NQ: Don't reject what you can do before even doing it.
P: Will a conversation do?
NQ (smiling): Conversation sounds good.
P: Your stars are rather bright. Showing off your jewels?
NQ: It's the start of a new year, after all. I thought it called for a little celebration.
P: Ah! Am I invited?
NQ: Everybody who likes me is invited.
P: I like you enough then. But what's so new about this year? It's not as if life would change as the date does.
NQ: New beginnings come with some hope that we'd do better in the times ahead. I'd rather spread around that hope. And who doesn't need a reason to celebrate?
P: True, m'lady. Where's the nightingale, by the way?
NQ: Helping out someone else, I believe. Where else would she be?
P: Ah. She has no joy of her own?
NQ: That's only for her to decide, what her joy is. But lo, there comes a new dawn.
P: Pray that I get used to the freedom.
NQ: Pray that everyone finds out who they are, and they like who they are. Pray that people like the life they live.
P: Pray to whom?
NQ: To whatever or whoever you believe in.
P: I'm not sure what that is...
NQ: Have a good year ahead.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Freedom in a Song
Prisoner (P): Ah. Who do we have here?
Nightingale(NG): A dream and a nightmare.
P: What brings you to my door?
NG: A Queen's request, and nature's lure.
P: I don't think I understand... I never called you.
NG: You didn't call the Wind or the Rain. They were here, too.
P: They are friends. They can come whenever time they get.
NG: So am I, you just don't know it yet.
P: your song is strange. I've never heard it before.
NG: Fool! It is your song, your scale, your score.
Her Majesty has sent me for you- for you are in the want of a song.
A song for love, maybe? For the maiden to whom you belong?
A song for freedom, maybe? For the world you've seen through so many different views-
all but your own. Or maybe you want a muse?
An inspiration, to whom you can dedicate your thought to
Or a guide, who can tell you all that you ought to?
P: I know not what I want. I know not what I need.
NG: You've let insecurity breed.
Your muse, yor guide, your love- they await you.
There's but one thing you need to do.
P: What! Name it and it shall be done!
NG: Break these walls and run!
P: The walls won't break. I've tried.
It's because of that I've cried.
NG: You knew that they won't. Now know that they will.
I'm that magic spell, that miracle pill
that makes it so. Believe in me.
P: I believe, I belive in thee.
(The Wall breaks).
P: Oh! Thank you! You've freed me!
NG: Fool! You've freed thee.
P: But you're the magic wand , the miracle pill-
NG: I am your belief- the belief you never had on your own skill.
What good is a wall broken, when you're sure to make more?
You're still named the Prisoner, forever shutting the door
and then you wonder why you're left alone.
You made the prison-walls, not of stone:
but of fear and doubt.
didn't you wonder how rain and wind and I could come about?
The Walls never existed for us- they were created just for you.
You don't know how to be free- you haven't got a clue:
You think you are free by communicating from your shell-
second hand experiences wont serve you well.
get out, and never be the Prisoner again!
First of all, go change your name!
P: It's all a lie? I've been living a lie? What of my maiden by the Sea?
NG: It was truth to you - as true as can be.
But only to your mind. The maiden would be found -
you're free now, so start looking around.
P: I should thank you- but I've not yet ajusted to not being what I was for so long.
NG: It's ok, it takes time to sing any song.
P: What is my name now? Where do I go ? What do I do?
NG: Sing along, it'll come to you.
Nightingale(NG): A dream and a nightmare.
P: What brings you to my door?
NG: A Queen's request, and nature's lure.
P: I don't think I understand... I never called you.
NG: You didn't call the Wind or the Rain. They were here, too.
P: They are friends. They can come whenever time they get.
NG: So am I, you just don't know it yet.
P: your song is strange. I've never heard it before.
NG: Fool! It is your song, your scale, your score.
Her Majesty has sent me for you- for you are in the want of a song.
A song for love, maybe? For the maiden to whom you belong?
A song for freedom, maybe? For the world you've seen through so many different views-
all but your own. Or maybe you want a muse?
An inspiration, to whom you can dedicate your thought to
Or a guide, who can tell you all that you ought to?
P: I know not what I want. I know not what I need.
NG: You've let insecurity breed.
Your muse, yor guide, your love- they await you.
There's but one thing you need to do.
P: What! Name it and it shall be done!
NG: Break these walls and run!
P: The walls won't break. I've tried.
It's because of that I've cried.
NG: You knew that they won't. Now know that they will.
I'm that magic spell, that miracle pill
that makes it so. Believe in me.
P: I believe, I belive in thee.
(The Wall breaks).
P: Oh! Thank you! You've freed me!
NG: Fool! You've freed thee.
P: But you're the magic wand , the miracle pill-
NG: I am your belief- the belief you never had on your own skill.
What good is a wall broken, when you're sure to make more?
You're still named the Prisoner, forever shutting the door
and then you wonder why you're left alone.
You made the prison-walls, not of stone:
but of fear and doubt.
didn't you wonder how rain and wind and I could come about?
The Walls never existed for us- they were created just for you.
You don't know how to be free- you haven't got a clue:
You think you are free by communicating from your shell-
second hand experiences wont serve you well.
get out, and never be the Prisoner again!
First of all, go change your name!
P: It's all a lie? I've been living a lie? What of my maiden by the Sea?
NG: It was truth to you - as true as can be.
But only to your mind. The maiden would be found -
you're free now, so start looking around.
P: I should thank you- but I've not yet ajusted to not being what I was for so long.
NG: It's ok, it takes time to sing any song.
P: What is my name now? Where do I go ? What do I do?
NG: Sing along, it'll come to you.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Midnight Conversations - part one
The Nocturnal Queen (NQ): What's the matter, dear child, its been sometime since I heard your sweet voice. You've been wandering aimlessly too long.
The Nightingale (NG): I'm in search of a new world, your majesty.
NQ: Your Majesty! Only a godmother to you, sweetheart. Do you wish for Utopia? All joy and no sorrow.... where all people are good and none evil?
NG: No, mama, I embrace the grey shades in everyone. I endorse black.... I am happier by the night- but no, no, I don't want people who are always happy... they wouldn't care so much for happiness then. I want people who accept the grey: in themselves and in everyone else. I come from a world where great people fail to acknowledge that they are great, for the pretense of humility, they don't believe in the good in them, they don't forgive the bad in themselves. And people so ill adjusted with themselves are even more uncomfortable with others. In short, I am tired of believing in people who fail to have faith in themselves.
NQ: Ah. But they do believe in you.
NG: I don't know. They believe in the oddest things- in stone idols and quarks, in drowning their sorrows in tobacco smoke, in the beauty of diamonds and in the big bang. It's odd that they belive in such unlikely things, but not in themselves.
NQ: Then be their belief, my child. In hearing your tunes they start listening to their own heart.
NG: I don't know if I can do that anymore, mama. Do you know someone who might need a song at this hour?
NQ: Oh, too many of them, my child, too many of them. But I shall guide you another favourite child of mine : he's called the prisoner.
NG: Oh, I've heard of him. As I travelled by the sea, the waves carried a maiden's notes, calling out to him. I could tell him that there's someone still who believes in him- but would he understand my language?
NQ: Everyone understands your language, dear. Go on, reach him. It's about the time the Sun showed up, I must get some rest now.
NG: Thanks, ma. Wish me luck. I have a brother to cheer up.
NQ: You'll do well. I believe in you, too.
The Nightingale (NG): I'm in search of a new world, your majesty.
NQ: Your Majesty! Only a godmother to you, sweetheart. Do you wish for Utopia? All joy and no sorrow.... where all people are good and none evil?
NG: No, mama, I embrace the grey shades in everyone. I endorse black.... I am happier by the night- but no, no, I don't want people who are always happy... they wouldn't care so much for happiness then. I want people who accept the grey: in themselves and in everyone else. I come from a world where great people fail to acknowledge that they are great, for the pretense of humility, they don't believe in the good in them, they don't forgive the bad in themselves. And people so ill adjusted with themselves are even more uncomfortable with others. In short, I am tired of believing in people who fail to have faith in themselves.
NQ: Ah. But they do believe in you.
NG: I don't know. They believe in the oddest things- in stone idols and quarks, in drowning their sorrows in tobacco smoke, in the beauty of diamonds and in the big bang. It's odd that they belive in such unlikely things, but not in themselves.
NQ: Then be their belief, my child. In hearing your tunes they start listening to their own heart.
NG: I don't know if I can do that anymore, mama. Do you know someone who might need a song at this hour?
NQ: Oh, too many of them, my child, too many of them. But I shall guide you another favourite child of mine : he's called the prisoner.
NG: Oh, I've heard of him. As I travelled by the sea, the waves carried a maiden's notes, calling out to him. I could tell him that there's someone still who believes in him- but would he understand my language?
NQ: Everyone understands your language, dear. Go on, reach him. It's about the time the Sun showed up, I must get some rest now.
NG: Thanks, ma. Wish me luck. I have a brother to cheer up.
NQ: You'll do well. I believe in you, too.
Friday, November 28, 2008
The Nightingale
Hear, hear, the Nightingale sings
Of a fallen Angel with welded wings.
The sweet song is sweet no longer-
Behold the Nightingale's anger!
The song's been hummed and strummed
On a table fingers drummed
Notes missed and lyrics rewritten:
so many people by this song were smitten:
They made it their own.
With her song the Nightingale, too, has grown-
Till that Angel came by, mocking her song
Singing it oh-so-perfectly along
Not a note missed, not a word changed
Each octave perfectly arranged
Don't you dare take that song from me-
Make it your own precious melody
Sing it shout it
Go anyway about it
Oh live with it the way I do
Let it grow with you-
The Nightingale won't sing tonight
She'll be gone by the morning light
Oh for a land where people have imperfections!
No Angels no false reflections
Onwards, towards the Sea!
A symphony of waves for me!
With the C#-minor scale of a gale:
Another song from, and for, the Nightingale.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Prisoner Speaks
Prisoner(P): Oh Rain! Be a little quieter- I need to hear the whispering Wind in my ears.
Wind(W): Take a deep breath.
P: Ah! The smell of rain! Of mustard fields and brick kiln smoke... Of wet sandlwood and crushed chlorophyll...
W: We've been places today.
R: And now, so have you. But I see dust here in your cell.
W: Allow me to blow that away.
P: Thanks, I didn't notice it.
W+R: But we did.
P (smiling): As true friends do.
W: Messages from the world outside: It's still a weird place. There's still hate and war and confusion.
R: It's still a weird place. There's still hope and faith and love.
P: And her?
W+R: She refuses to be found. She's left no traces. No smells of cinnamon from her kitchen or incense from her prayers- Can you find her in your heart?
P: I don't know. I could find her once, but now...
W+R: We can't find her till you do!
P: Oh, she will forget. And so would I. It would be for the best.
W: Don't be a fool - you don't know what it means to lose a beloved yet- I do.
P: She could never love the way I have.
W: But she did love you.Befriend her again before she's lost forever.
R: Ah! My words were not lost on you, its heartening to see that. At least till the next grand love of your life sweeps you off again.
W: Oh, I'll be the one sweeping someone off their feet this time.
R: My! You learn fast!
P (quietly) : Find her by the Sea-
She still waits for me.
Waves erase her footprints in the sand
Tell her of this strange land
And my times here-
Oh tell her I still care!
carry with you the smell of this soil,
Of soap and salt and of eucalyptus oil
And bring me her messages next time you arrive!
Tell her that I won't give up, with friends and love I survive!
Wind(W): Take a deep breath.
P: Ah! The smell of rain! Of mustard fields and brick kiln smoke... Of wet sandlwood and crushed chlorophyll...
W: We've been places today.
R: And now, so have you. But I see dust here in your cell.
W: Allow me to blow that away.
P: Thanks, I didn't notice it.
W+R: But we did.
P (smiling): As true friends do.
W: Messages from the world outside: It's still a weird place. There's still hate and war and confusion.
R: It's still a weird place. There's still hope and faith and love.
P: And her?
W+R: She refuses to be found. She's left no traces. No smells of cinnamon from her kitchen or incense from her prayers- Can you find her in your heart?
P: I don't know. I could find her once, but now...
W+R: We can't find her till you do!
P: Oh, she will forget. And so would I. It would be for the best.
W: Don't be a fool - you don't know what it means to lose a beloved yet- I do.
P: She could never love the way I have.
W: But she did love you.Befriend her again before she's lost forever.
R: Ah! My words were not lost on you, its heartening to see that. At least till the next grand love of your life sweeps you off again.
W: Oh, I'll be the one sweeping someone off their feet this time.
R: My! You learn fast!
P (quietly) : Find her by the Sea-
She still waits for me.
Waves erase her footprints in the sand
Tell her of this strange land
And my times here-
Oh tell her I still care!
carry with you the smell of this soil,
Of soap and salt and of eucalyptus oil
And bring me her messages next time you arrive!
Tell her that I won't give up, with friends and love I survive!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Prisoner
It is their duty to keep me jailed-
And mine: To be free.
I walk the world in my four walls...
And see it with your eyes.
You communicate in my dreams
And all the life that touched you touches me too.
Oh-so-many worlds I've seen
People carry their world on their face:
Their personal hell or heaven
And eternity etched in wrinkles
each passing moment puts on their face
The roads I walk on begin and end here but
My heart walks with you
I wonder whose face and world you would show me tonight:
Till then; I'll see what became of my face
And hope that someone finds an escape in me.
And mine: To be free.
I walk the world in my four walls...
And see it with your eyes.
You communicate in my dreams
And all the life that touched you touches me too.
Oh-so-many worlds I've seen
People carry their world on their face:
Their personal hell or heaven
And eternity etched in wrinkles
each passing moment puts on their face
The roads I walk on begin and end here but
My heart walks with you
I wonder whose face and world you would show me tonight:
Till then; I'll see what became of my face
And hope that someone finds an escape in me.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
The Dust
Yesterday's fertile soil,
I am tomorrow's sand
To be washed out of hair
Or swept off chimneys.
Hints of cobwebs and twigs-
To mark the places left unused.
To choke whoever I can.
Wipe me off for what it's worth
I am produced perpetually
Like the doubts in your head
Like the words you never said...
I'll be there always...
Don't let me accumulate...
I am tomorrow's sand
To be washed out of hair
Or swept off chimneys.
Hints of cobwebs and twigs-
To mark the places left unused.
To choke whoever I can.
Wipe me off for what it's worth
I am produced perpetually
Like the doubts in your head
Like the words you never said...
I'll be there always...
Don't let me accumulate...
The Smile
No gentle pleasure am I:
I am a discerning mind's lie;
No dimples of truth or teeth of laughter
I am the aftermath of many a disaster.
A sheild of happiness for the saddest sigh
Solace of the eyes that have forgotten how to cry
Mercy to friends, I save them the burden of a friend's grief:
I hide the heart so in want of relief
Mercy to myself, for I know not my friends or foes
Who would care for how my life goes-
I know not what I may convey
Don't look into the eyes, they give me away.
I am a discerning mind's lie;
No dimples of truth or teeth of laughter
I am the aftermath of many a disaster.
A sheild of happiness for the saddest sigh
Solace of the eyes that have forgotten how to cry
Mercy to friends, I save them the burden of a friend's grief:
I hide the heart so in want of relief
Mercy to myself, for I know not my friends or foes
Who would care for how my life goes-
I know not what I may convey
Don't look into the eyes, they give me away.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
The Wind Speaks
WIND(W): I'll always be there for you.
FLAME(F): But I won't be there. You can extinguish me anytime.
W: But I wouldn't do that. I wish you were a forest fire, I'd spread you around and maybe we could talk then...
F: Oh? You would cause so much of destruction, and pollute yourself in the process, just so we could talk longer?
W: That, and more.
F: I'd never cause so much of harm. Don't be so selfish.
W: Why shouldn't I? I've never done anyone any harm. Why shouldn't I have the one thing that I love?
F: Anything worth possessing can never be possessed. I'm only as good as the wax that fuels me- I shall die soon and you shall get over this madness.
W: No-
F: Yes.
(The Flame dies away.)
RAIN(R): Venting your frustration by tossing the poor clouds again, eh, m'dear.
W: Oh shut up, you've no idea.
R: On the contrary, I have a very good idea. I just wish you could cry on your own, and not use me to grieve ...
W: I can't cry! I don't even know the decent way to let go!
R: What was there to let go of?
W: That's true. She belonged to that lamp in her life and in death.... to no one.
R: Its your own feeling that you need to let go of.
W: Why didn't I know this feeling before? When she was alive and well? Why did it appear just as she was dying?
R: You were too busy testing her.
W: You are cruel! You call yourself a friend of mine??
R: Yes, I am a friend. And friends tell each other the truth. It's the truth, not me, that is so cruel.
W: The worst thing about you is that you always make sense. Yet you give me peace.
R: I don't always make sense. And I don't 'give' you peace, you find it within you in my presence.
W: Wash away those memories from me, my friend.
R: I can only wash away regret, never the memories.
FLAME(F): But I won't be there. You can extinguish me anytime.
W: But I wouldn't do that. I wish you were a forest fire, I'd spread you around and maybe we could talk then...
F: Oh? You would cause so much of destruction, and pollute yourself in the process, just so we could talk longer?
W: That, and more.
F: I'd never cause so much of harm. Don't be so selfish.
W: Why shouldn't I? I've never done anyone any harm. Why shouldn't I have the one thing that I love?
F: Anything worth possessing can never be possessed. I'm only as good as the wax that fuels me- I shall die soon and you shall get over this madness.
W: No-
F: Yes.
(The Flame dies away.)
RAIN(R): Venting your frustration by tossing the poor clouds again, eh, m'dear.
W: Oh shut up, you've no idea.
R: On the contrary, I have a very good idea. I just wish you could cry on your own, and not use me to grieve ...
W: I can't cry! I don't even know the decent way to let go!
R: What was there to let go of?
W: That's true. She belonged to that lamp in her life and in death.... to no one.
R: Its your own feeling that you need to let go of.
W: Why didn't I know this feeling before? When she was alive and well? Why did it appear just as she was dying?
R: You were too busy testing her.
W: You are cruel! You call yourself a friend of mine??
R: Yes, I am a friend. And friends tell each other the truth. It's the truth, not me, that is so cruel.
W: The worst thing about you is that you always make sense. Yet you give me peace.
R: I don't always make sense. And I don't 'give' you peace, you find it within you in my presence.
W: Wash away those memories from me, my friend.
R: I can only wash away regret, never the memories.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Flame
Philanthorpic enough to burn myself to give light and warmth to others? Yes.
Selfish enough to burn those poor moths who love me and come too close? Yes.
The light I give carries the darkness within, and yet , had my heart not been so dark, I'd never been able to glow and spread the light. Mirrors reflect me, the wind fights me, I die every moment I live.
Even the brightest white is but a shade of gray...
Selfish enough to burn those poor moths who love me and come too close? Yes.
The light I give carries the darkness within, and yet , had my heart not been so dark, I'd never been able to glow and spread the light. Mirrors reflect me, the wind fights me, I die every moment I live.
Even the brightest white is but a shade of gray...
The Rain
Don't hide under that stupid umbrella. I'm pouring down on you for a very good reason. No, you won't catch a chill. What? You're scared of spoiling your clothes?Congratulations, your childhood is officially over. That's it, step out. My first little drop on your face. Wash away those years. Clean your soul of the pretenses it learnt. Spread out your arms and feel the life hugging you back. Dance like no one's watching. Reclaim yourself.
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Nocturnal Queen
I watch silently as the first rays of light outshine my starry eyes... blinding me, obscuring me to the world. Yet I am there. I am always there. I watch their days and the lies they live. But they tell me the truth. With the comfort of my darkness, they hide their shadows, drown their worries in a few glasses of wine, and look into my moon-mirror for the faces they hope to find.
When they feel me by their side they compose the best of their music, write moving poetry, they find themselves. The light of the day makes them wear their masks; cover the delicate wax of their hearts with the sunscreens of stoic professionalism.
I elude the ones who hide.
I delude the ones who lie.
Then there are some who wear their heart on their sleeves and their soul on their face. And it is to them that I belong. In the harshest glare of the Sun, they can find their guiding star.
When they feel me by their side they compose the best of their music, write moving poetry, they find themselves. The light of the day makes them wear their masks; cover the delicate wax of their hearts with the sunscreens of stoic professionalism.
I elude the ones who hide.
I delude the ones who lie.
Then there are some who wear their heart on their sleeves and their soul on their face. And it is to them that I belong. In the harshest glare of the Sun, they can find their guiding star.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Nebula
Am sick of hearing that I could be a star. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. Even if I do, its not something I'd have any say in. Even if it happens, I don't know when it will be so.
I really couldn't care less. Because I'm doing my best. I know everyone wants to be a star, and very few get there. Everyone has the potential, just as I do. I don't want people to wish on me. I don't want them to use me to predict their future. I just want to spread some light. And whatever state I'm in, I'll do that. I'll have to burn myself anyway, and I'll burn bright enough to light up a few lives.
Everything else is inconsequential.
I really couldn't care less. Because I'm doing my best. I know everyone wants to be a star, and very few get there. Everyone has the potential, just as I do. I don't want people to wish on me. I don't want them to use me to predict their future. I just want to spread some light. And whatever state I'm in, I'll do that. I'll have to burn myself anyway, and I'll burn bright enough to light up a few lives.
Everything else is inconsequential.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Wind...
It's good to be the Wind. There's no stopping to where I can go... no one's seen the places I've seen. I've been studied and analysed but they still can't predict what I may do. But I'm in a gentle mood most of the time, no tornados or tsunamis, thank you. I'd rather be a pleasant breeze today.
I took a swoop down at the clothsline the other day, and stole a dupatta from some poor lady. I knew I'll have to leave it somewhere, sometime, but it was fun to tickle it up, just to hear the jingling of the little bells on the hemline. I tossed it just as I toss the clouds above, and just as they complained and started to rain, I left it.
Rain and sunshine meet me as they please.... clouds and clothes get tossed around.... and I wish for someone.... someone who could understand the way I drift... someone truly mine.
I took a swoop down at the clothsline the other day, and stole a dupatta from some poor lady. I knew I'll have to leave it somewhere, sometime, but it was fun to tickle it up, just to hear the jingling of the little bells on the hemline. I tossed it just as I toss the clouds above, and just as they complained and started to rain, I left it.
Rain and sunshine meet me as they please.... clouds and clothes get tossed around.... and I wish for someone.... someone who could understand the way I drift... someone truly mine.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Avenging Angel
They cut my wings away. I never said anything. I knew it was not my time to speak out, that would only make it worse. It is in the essence of society to be hypocritical. They say they encourage free thought when they most want to supress it. Goth , Punk, Emo, no matter how rebellious you try to be , it's still a label you wear, a standard you confirm to. And maybe the only free thinker would be a subculture of one.Maybe that's why they hate my wings so much. And I had come here thinking they'd be glad for the fact that I'm here... even a nice shiny halo doesn't help much here. All they know is that you're not one of them.Maybe I should tell them I was like them once. I still am. I know the depths they've sank to, because I was in the underworld once too. The only difference is that they fail to see that its not a compulsion- it's their choice. Maybe that's why they don't understand - I show them that they could get better, but the path out is very long and dark.And so they drift on, in their delusion of being alive. I didn't come as a Messiah- I came here to forget, to start anew, to find some new friends. I suppose that's not to be. The jail cell was pretty easy to break.
And they never knew I had a pair of spare bionic ones.
And they never knew I had a pair of spare bionic ones.
Meet My Alter Ego :)
The name is irrelevent. 'Pixie' may change tomorrow. Indeed, the soul of this alter ego lies in her ability to change ( for better or for worse). She observes without being involved. She absorbs the eccentricities of the people around her. She does not judge, but merely reflects whatever you are, and whatever you can become. She is everyone in my life, and in some parts,she is me too. I don't know who she would become tomorrow, but the next blogs would be written , not by me, but by her. It is an outlet to the sheer weirdness of the humanity that surrounds me. It's time to set the Pixie free.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)