silent , whispering and walking words

 I don't know why I always wander and come back to Faiz , it seems he has the art to find the perfect words which he can just touch and bring to life, who can than whisper in my ears and sometimes also talk aloud, and can further walk into my life n find their space.... ....a toast to life, a toast to those silent, whispering and talking words which can walk down n occupy my life...!

vo log bahut khush_qismat the

jo ishq ko kaam samajhate the

yaa kaam se aashiqii karate the

ham jiite jii masaruuf rahe

kuchh ishq kiyaa kuchh kaam kiyaa

kaam ishq ke aad’de aataa rahaa

aur ishq se kaam ulajhataa rahaa

phir aakhir tang aakar ham ne

dono.kko adhuuraa chhod diyaa

: Faiz Ahmed Faiz

himmat-e-iltijaa nahii.n baaqii

himmat-e-iltijaa nahii.n baaqii

zabt kaa hausalaa nahii.n baaqii

[himmat-e-iltijaa = strength to plead]

[baaqii = remaining; zabt = tolerance/restraint]

ik terii diid chhin ga_ii mujh se

varnaa duniyaa me.n kyaa nahii.n baaqii

[diid = sight/view]

apanii mashq-e-sitam se haath na khe.nch

mai.n nahii.n yaa vafaa nahii.n baaqii

[mashq-e-sitam = practice of tormenting/oppression]

terii chashm-e-alam_navaaz kii Khair

dil me.n ko_ii gilaa nahii.n baaqii

[alam_navaaz = consoling when in grief]

ho chukaa Khatm ahad-e-hijr-o-visaal

zindagii me.n mazaa nahii.n baaqii

 [ahad = promise]

[hij-o-visaal = separation and union/meeting]

: Faiz Ahmed Faiz

un-stringing

 

Life has been on its ride and I have been like a mad traveler been counting 

turns at times perhaps have lost track of the steps taken , thought I don't mind taking time off 

n siting with oneself on one -on-one to decide which turn to move on... I have to still figure out 

my song, I am still spending time in stringing my instrument and I have to still move on! 

In between the business of living and the need to survive whenever I find some "Me Time" I have 

managed to sneek to poetry and non other than Tagore's this poem has been there to my rescue, 

I love going through it time and again, there have been times where I have felt this has been a 

perfect expression of my pessimism- in action and ever willing attitude to except that this is not 

what I want! thought I assume the poet was very optimistic and firm about his belief and focused

on his perception of what he wants out of life but the same expression can go so well with 

some-one like me, I think and think again and then take a roll into my life and read this poem 

with a deep breadth to survive and move on! 

 Waiting

The song I came to sing 
remains unsung to this day. 
I have spent my days in stringing 
and in un-stringing my instrument. 

The time has not come true, 
the words have not been rightly set; 
only there is the agony 
of wishing in my heart..... 

I have not seen his face, 
nor have I listened to his voice; 
only I have heard his gentle footsteps 
from the road before my house..... 

But the lamp has not been lit 
and I cannot ask him into my house; 
I live in the hope of meeting with him; 
but this meeting is not yet.   

~Rabindranath Tagore 

colours and shades

Any art lover would definitely find Amrita Shergill's work thought provoking and her life story mysteriously engulfing. She was among the fortunate few of her times who made it to Arts not just in India but also abroad. Especially being a woman artist there were tremendous challenges, as the social and cultural hardships were no different then the women in other stratas of the society. It was never a choice as a profession, it was more over a hobby turned a talent to come closer to the popular norms of being a phenomenal women!

 

                                                                        








        Amrita Shergill


Thought her family background sets a perfect platform for her to connect to Arts as a hobby and then as a subject for higher studies, her latter works defines the choice she made in continuing with it, growing in depth and style of depicting her subjects as more naturally, with her intense thoughts and complexities of desires flowing freely in her paintings. Her paintings are like a mirror to the different facets of her personality unfolding numerous mysteries of life.                                             

Self Portrait by Amrita

 Hill Women 1935 by Amrita Shergill








Her subjects are largely from the country side , thought ample of work reflects her keen interest in portraits, yet she has an eye for capturing the human emotions with immense sensitivity, her subjects are finely toned into color of life, one can trace the complexity of life on her canvas.
I like the use of colors and shades which embark the emotions with out playing much with the background.

Looking at her paintings, which have always attracted me and hanging my eyes on to the window moreover, takes me off to imagine how it would be to have your life filled with the choice of lending different strokes and shades and just see the world and put it on paper ... or may be imagine and have the leisure of just dipping my hands into colors and sitting idly ... !

...... (coming back out of the random thought over) Peeping into her paintings made me further more interested in exploring details about her,this took me to Ludwig van Beenthove's music and Poetry. One of his distinguish works were the letters to his immortal beloved (which were recovered after his death, no one has discovered her, she remains the romantic enigma!) are very interesting, especially this one:


"Your love has made me both the happiest and the unhappiest of mortals--At my age I now need stability and regularity in my life--can this coexist with our relationship?"


So, for now am hooked with reading more and perhaps listening moreover, to Beenthove's music, but definitely thoughts of a immortal beloved is hight on me, and perhaps I know what it amounts to be the happiest and the unhappiness of the mortals!

will soon come up with my version of letters to immortal beloved :-) ! 

Rain

I read this poem over and over today and loved it every time! It reminded me the day I use to hang out till late in school just to drench in rain, the rains had such a mesmerizing effect on me, it still drags me, though I don't remember when was the last I actually let myself go..

... coming back to the poem, these lines tend to acknowledge the fact that how over the years a drought of leisure has made me dry, and the thrust of holding on seems to have engulfed me to a deep sleep with no dreams to interpret, thought I still wait for some rain to help me slowly open my eyes again and will for now imagine it to get hard into my brain!

Rain

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

by Shel Silverstein