रंगों की तरंग
रंगों की तरंग
बस इतना कहने उठी,
की ये जो अस्मा है,
रंगो के लिए बना है।
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Translation – The Wave of Colours
The wave of colours
Rose to say
That this sky is
Meant to be coloured.
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Four giant steps forward and six steps sideways, a room with no window, locked in it forever.
The thoughts buzz tirelessly, not letting the music of a quiet mind to settle.
The walls are painted daily, it shouts ‘I blame you’ boldly.
But there is light, it comes from underneath the door, sometimes mixed with the chirping of the birds. It fills the jail with a happy calm light. It does.
And the key, kept on a tiny table beside the door, never moves itself to unlock the door. It just waits.
Amusingly, the happy calm light never ceases to be. It wishes us to breakout.
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We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
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This excerpt is from a refined piece of poem by Maya Angelou which shared then and is sharing still the truth.
We all call a pale blue dot in this magnanimous universe our home, and then we forget. For what else can it be if not weak memory that we repeat the same blunders and invite catastrophes?
We are full of contradictions, we are the chaos, we are neither devils nor divines… and yet we are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world. Why?
Because we can think, we can create, we can sing and dance, we can understand the science behind everything, and we can write a poem to share with everyone A Brave and Startling Truth.
Because deep down all each one of us want is peace. Yes, but only if we remember… if we remember to think.
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When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
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Read Maya Angelou’s beautiful poem, A Brave and Startling Truth here.
Know more about our planet, the Pale Blue Dot.
My inspiration for this post – A Brave and Startling Truth: Maya Angelou’s Stunning Humanist Poem That Flew to Space, Inspired by Carl Sagan and Read by Astrophysicist Janna Levin (a fabulous article written by the fabulous Maria Popova).
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| Paul Bacon |
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| Giving this crazy classic a crazy touch. |
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| Psychedelic soft colours |
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| A twisted touch. |
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| Visions… on the road. |
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| The ‘R’ sways like a flag. Subtly symbolic. |
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| Intense look. |
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| And we are cornered. |
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| American dream, just a fable? |
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| BOLD! |
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| The most beautiful map. |
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| We did? |
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| The Asian saga, part one. |
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| Bold colour for the bold classic. |
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| Paul Bacon’s first album cover for the company Riverside. |
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| Things are looking up (2002) – one of Paul Bacon’s two albums. |
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Running lines, zigzag running lines fuel the mind often. Like lost in a busy city, burning with shiny lights, where no one knows whether it is day or night, I am lost walking, running, gliding on a zigzag path.
Neither snow white wintry nor swoony soft summery winds can be heard here, who knows why.
All I can hear is the hub-dub of my heart.
Trapped in this maze, facing dead ends and memory monsters, I solemnly walk ahead. And after an endless time passes by, I walk out of the maze. Exhausted, yes, but hopeful, why, for I kept walking.
Looking back from the mountain top I can see a cloud of zigzag lines, an imprint of time, a link between battles and victories, between a structured confusion and a messy exuberance. Ah! It goes on and on.
My heart is eager and my mind alert for the future to reveal itself.
I am not afraid anymore for the zigzag lines are transparent and always in a rush.
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कलाकार
सोमवार को दी एक पुकार
की जल्दी में क्यों हो सरकार
आना भी है, आकर जाना भी है….
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मिटटी गुंधे जो बैठा है कुम्हार
जशन से टशन से घुमाएगा पहिया वो
आदर और अदब से फूंकेगा वो
जब जान, तब बनेगा एक घड़ा जो
जल से भरेगा, तरेगा, करेगा शोर
की जल्दी में कयों हो सरकार
समय से कब बंधा है कलाकार?
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Translation – An Artist
I spoke to Monday once
That why was it in such a hurry
To come and in a hurry to go…
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The potter who has kneaded the soil
Will spin the wheel in his style
Carefully and respectfully he will instill
A life force and the soil will take the shape of a vessel.
In usage this vessel will make some noise and ask
That why is time in such a hurry,
When it can never bind an artist’s creativity?
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Let go please
This is noise
You are holding to
Getting moulded too
Remember you were hit by
A typhoon, in monsoon, oh my
Oh my, you’re carrying the broken
Dream catcher like a token
Of a promise you made to yourself
Forgotten the recipe? Oh well, just melt
The mind and heart together, then clap twice
Look in the mirror, smile, yours is the choice
Colour the dream catcher in deep green
Of your eyes, in the rainbows you have seen
As a child. Voila, it is ready, a new dream
Catcher that’ll carry your old dreams
To its destination, so… let go.
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Mirai o Mirai, where are you? You cannot hide for long.
Mirai o Mirai, I will find you.
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Those childhood days gone by, gone by in playing, playing hide and seek, ice-water and cycling, cycling all day long like a crazy fool and laughing, those childhood days gone by eating candies and ice creams, hopscotching and skipping ropes, flying kites, strolling aimlessly, gazing at the sky, merry minds flying high, those childhood days are now a dream.
I remember, I still do, Aru and I were sitting, Pinti was roaming around as always; Aru was talking non-stop, sharing one of her charming stories, a feature film story I must mention – our protagonist, a little girl, the best detective in the town, begins her quest, she is looking for some stolen bright precious stones – we paused the story and went to play hopscotch with Pinti, she had re-drawn the rectangle-y pattern for us, sweet Pinti, we talked and played, then followed the clouds, just when we were about to get hold of the moody clouds, they turned and shouted, “peek-a-boo.”
We screamed and ran back, but could not out-do the rain bullets. And then… then we guffawed and danced in the rain, I remember.
Those childhood days gone by were full of dreams, dreams of the future, pocket full of adventure and sweets and joy and endless playtime… those dreams were of the future, a hidden gold chest…
Through those dreams we time travelled and blushed, knowing well that we have to wait a bit before we discover this treasure… we treasured the future and waited.
Those childhood days gone by, what a sweet melody… the future we still dream of, what a happy idea…
And what is left is the present, this very moment – quiet, true, rudely true, factual and boring, but euphoric if grasped and powerful enough to change everything, the past as well as the future.
Take the golden thread I say, take it and chart the course, know that it will not break for it is tied to you, you of the past and you of the future.
Mirai is a Japanese animation film written and directed by Mamoru Hosoda.
A truly beautiful and emotional film, it is a must-watch for it is a piece you need to get hold of to solve this jigsaw puzzle called life. It is beautiful!
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A touch of the moon colour and this life will glow and slowly will it know of a love story so pure that has travelled a long distance facing boldly every storm that has become a norm, followed by all, the same ones who secretly, meekly hope for someone to rise, rebel and risk it proudly, showing the world that a heart beats in every being, a heart that falls irrefutably in love, in love with a smile, a gesture, the earth, the sky and the moon… all this life needs is a touch of the moon colour.
Moon!
The Moon is Singing White Light
In Slo-mo Towards the Moon
Moon, Moon, Moon, Moonlight
The Moon Talks
The Moon is Moving
Crescent Moon Lights
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Sujata – The Voice of the Unheard
Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam – A tale of role-reversals and downfalls
Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi (That which moves is called a car)
Mrinal Sen’s Aakaler Shandhane (In Search of Famine)
La Strada And The Round-Faced Clown
Sherni – Even in the dense jungle, the tigress knows her way.
Gabbeh, the 1996 film, is a simple tale of a gipsy girl, her clan and the way their life goes on. Unfolding beautifully just like an artist painting a canvas, Gabbeh quietly touches the grand questions.
Essentially Gold, The Lavender Hill Mob
Ranked as one of the greatest British films of all time, The Lavender Hill Mob confides in the audience, letting them see, feel, laugh and think without tickling persuasively with a joke here and a punch-line there.
Regina Spektor’s Musical World – Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V
Of Monsters and Men and This Journey
The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell, You and Me
The Answer Is Blowin’ In The Wind
The Wonderful Mr. Tambourine Man Song
Weather Forecast Says Listen to George Ezra
The Choir and Their Toads Sing ‘Double Trouble’
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.
Silver cascade shimmering the night sky, music to the waves and surreal beauty to the eyes, the Moon loves the art of discipline.
It may be difficult to believe for the Moon’s splendour defies time, it stupefies the clock, it follows the path of a dreamer, but how could this be possible if the Moon knew not discipline?
In this moment, I am a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I am complete and incomplete, I am pleased and uncertain, I wish for nothing and I know I have to wait.
Because the distance covered reminds me of the hurdles I have crossed and the ones I could not, it reminds me of a throbbing past and a dreamy future and it reminds me of how much time is left.
A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true.
