deponti

Is that a dead cat?
No, no, not that!
It's a cat that's at ease:
It's a cat with the cream...AND the cheese;
On the grass, with eyes closed
Stretched out and unfurled:
Not bothered, not posed
Not a care in the world...

I wish I could put by
All my worries this way
And be the picture of contentment
Let the world go its way!

Why...
Do I want to try
To be the official scribe
As the cyclists pedal furiously
Across the hills?
Because...
Through the course...
I'd able to describe
All I'd experience, and see.
The wheres, the whens, the hows, and the whys...
The thrills, the chills, the spills
As the bikers sail across the Blue
Mountains...trying adventure for size...
Take some pictures: videos, too!
I could see their dreams
With my eyes, and write
How they climbed slopes and forded streams;
How they exchanged anecdotes,
Danced together, sang some notes....
I'd share their points of view;
Record their moods, both heavy and light
Every little incident;
The pedal that fell off, the wheel that bent:
The final push, the incredible thrill,
Of conquering distance with one's will....
Click their faces, as they passed
The victorious finishing line at last...
Have, at the end, a memorable journal
Of the cyclists' efforts diurnal.
I want to be the Official Blogger(if you please)
Of the 2009 Tour of the Nilgiris!

I look around...I can walk many a mile,
I find I'm never bored;
Not in sunshine, not in rain,
I can find beauty in a drain.



I just felt I had to smile
A look at this switchboard...
I really liked that humorous touch,
That, without talking, says so much.



Even something that is for just a while,
Something I cannot hoard:
A happy touch by my daughter
Seems to make honey of plain water!

"Look at that moon,
Hanging from the cloud,
Like a cashewnut," my daughter said.
Her simile was apt, and soon
I photographed the scene... and, proud
Of her observation, posted it here... wanting it read!

Two little sparrows
Sitting on a fence
As my distance narrows
They use their common sense...
Step in between those arrows
To get away from my lens!



House Sparrows are such delightful birds; they adapt to our ways, live amidst us, and are yet creatures of their own world....

For some birding friends of mine who, looking at a non-typical tail on a Black Drongo, id'ed it as a Drongo Cuckoo:



Sometimes drongos get a divided tail
Sometimes in this task they fail
If we birders get the id wrongo
It's *we* who're cuckoo, not the drongo!


Here's one pic I took of the BLACK DRONGO, a long time ago:

If you're feeling tired
And you want to park your butt
What do you do if the ground is wet
And all the parks are shut?

You don't look for comfort,
You just want to cut
To the chase and find a seat
That's already marked "Butts"!





So what if you can't sit well,
And it isn't enough for butt and nuts?
You're just glad that at least there is
A seat meant for everyone's butts!

har khushi hai lOgOn ke dAman mEin,
par Ek hansi kE liyE waqt nahin.
din rAth daudthi duniyA mEin
zindagee kE liyE hee waqt nahin.


mA kee loree kA ehsAs thO hai,
par mA kO mA kehnE kA waqt nahin.
sArE rishtOn kO thO hum mAr chukE...
ab unhe dafnAnE kA bhee waqt nahin.

sArE nAm mobile mEin hain...
par dOstee kE liyE waqt nahin.
gairOn kee kyA bAth karEn...
jab apnOn kE liyE hee waqt nahin.


AnkhOn mE hai neend badee..
par sOnE kA waqt nahin.
dil hair ghamOn sE bharA huA...
par rOnE kA bhee waqt nahin.

paisOn kee daud mE aisE daudE,
ki thhaknE kA bhee waqt nahin.
parAyE ehsAsOn kee kyA kadr karEin--
jap apnE sapnOn kE liyE hee waqt nahin.


thoo hi bathA Ey zindagi...
iss zindagi kA kyA hogA?
ki har pal marnE wAlOn kO
jeenE kE liyE bhee waqt nahin.

********

ROUGH translation:


people have every pleasure:
but there is no time for a single smile.
day and night,in this world
there is no time for life.

we've experienced the mother's lullaby,
but there is no time to address one's mother as such.
we have killed off all our relations...
we have no time even to bury them.

all the names are on the mobile...
but there is no time for friendship.
why should we talk of others
when there is no time for one's own?

the eyes are drooping...
there is no time for sleep.
the heart is filled with woes...
there is no time to weep.

we run so much after money
that there is no time to be tired.
how can we bother about others' experiences
when there is no time for our own dreams?

you tell me, O Life...
what is to happen to this life?
when those who die every moment
have no time to even live....


**************

My reply to the friend who sent me this forward:


mujhE khushi hai ki ApnE iss kavitA kO

mujhE bhEjnE kA waqt nikAlA!

zindagee kee bAki parEshAniyOn kE beech,

dOsthi nibhAnE kA samay nikAlA!


(I am happy that you took the time to send me this poem. In the midst of the other troubles of life, you took the time to celebrate our friendship.)

Many people count their age in moons,
Not just by their orbits around the sun;
This white orb marks the end of a day, an age, a life:
It may be just this day, or all your days, that are done.

Sailing serenely through the scudding clouds,
Marked for ever by the footprint of Man:
We may have reached the surface of the moon,
But not touched the depths of our own hearts, the way the moon can.

I look up into the night sky,
Into the cool light of the full moon:
Reflect on the transcience of beauty,
That will start waning, soon.....

From his latest album, "Inteha"...

AyinA sAmnE rakhOgE, thO yAd AoongA
apni zulfOn kO savArOgE thO yAd AoongA

bhool jAnA mujhE AsAn nahin hai itnA
jab mujhE bhoolnA chAhogE thO yAd AoongA

ek din bheegE thE barsAt mein hum tum dOnOn
ab jO barsAt mEn bheegOgeE thO yAd AoongA

yAd AoongA udAsi ki jO rut AyEgi
jab kOi jashn manAOgE thO yAd AoongA

AyinA sAmnE rakhOgE thO yAd AoongA..



When you place the mirror in front of you, I will come to mind
When you dress your hair, I will come to mind...

It's not so easy to forget me;
When you want to forget me, I will come to mind

Once, you and I were drenched in the rain..
Now, when you get wet in the rain, I will come to mind

I will come to mind when the moments of sadness come
And when you celebrate, I will come to mind...

When you place the mirror before yourself, I will come to mind...

inspirethoughts.....buy the album if you can!

Today, most unusually, Biddles fussed, and fussed, and fussed...I think the milk was NOT to her liking....I have not had a minute all day, and I am tired! So..no write-worthy thoughts occur to me, except the attraction of that bed upstairs...but she's smiling up at me so sweetly and cooing...

I need to record these epitaphs:

Here lies John Bunn
He was killed by a gun
His name was not Bunn, but Wood..
But Wood would not rhyme with "gun"..
And "Bunn" would.


************


Here lies a man who was killed by lightning
He died when his prospects seemed to be brightening.
He might have cut a flash in this world of trouble...
But the flash cut him....and he lies in the stubble.

What will they do
When they meet again?
Walk quietly in the park.
Let the silences speak.
Hold hands in the dark.
Let happiness wash off the pain
Of separation.
Shed a few tears.
Trembling, emotional,weak,
Speak of their fears
That their meeting would be too
Tough after the preparation.
Find each other the same.
Whisper each other's name.
Experience a little bliss
As they exchange a kiss.
Let one's joy pour into the other's heart
Erase the pain of having been apart.

inspirethoughts..how do you like my romantic verse? "mein shAyar thO nahin..."!

( more about 'milan'.... )

Of the eight rasAs, shringAra rasA, or romantic love, is divided into two: yOga shring!r and viyOga shringAr: love in the forms of being together, and of separation.

People move on...it's wise
To release someone,and realise
That it's not that they like you less
It's just a game of chess
Where the action has moved
From the square where you stand.
Something has been removed
Someone's flying onwards; you are still bound to the land.


The boat floats past, that's its nature:
The riverbank cannot think of the boat as its own.
Once again, one's alone...
To know this is to be mature:
Rather give thanks for what one had,
Wish the other person well,
Than hold on to the past, and be sad,
Repine... and suffer more than one can tell.

When a bird wants to fly, it flutters in your hand;
It might tarry a little if you hold it tightly;
You cannot hold it long, you have to understand...
Let go when you feel the flutter even slightly.

Friendships come to an end,
The leaves fall from the tree:
To accept this, and continue to be a friend
Can show how the level of one's maturity.
To accept the passage of time is wise...
But...so many people are otherwise.

These images truly took my breath away;
I do love the mountains and the streams,
The springs and the snow.
With all the trappings of men,
These scenes are yet pristine and clear.
It takes me to when the rivers' flow
Was not dammed and broken.
In my dreams
I take the unfrequented ways
Filled with flowers, Nature's token
Of benison for creatures here.
It was not a time when
Man had left his mark on the lands,
Or wandered over the country in large despoiling bands.
These images make me sleep...
And dream of Paradise that's still ours to keep.
Nature's not kind, but always fair;
Those who are the fittest can survive...
Breathe the free, pure air,
Flourish, and thrive.




Storm gathering beyond Olmsted Point






Tree growing on granite at Olmsted Point



( More scenes from Yosemite )







Yosemite sunset


No photographs can do justice to Nature's majesty....

Can you feel my hand in yours
When we are apart?
When separated by the miles, and worse,
Can you hear my words?
Do they resound in your heart?
If you feel my hand in the touch of the breeze
And my sounds in that of my beloved birds,
Then... our separation will cease...
Our togetherness will start.


I saw this amazing Asakiyume Effect in the sky when a thunderstorm built up over Yosemite....





KM has gone to Detroit for a few days....yesterday was our 33rd wedding anniversary!

The sun goes down...





And the stars come out...





Every now and then there are showers....







The birds and the bees are all out, if you please....





But... please do NOT sit on the flowers!







:)

I have seen many "do not pluck the flowers" signs in my life, but this was the first time I have seen one of these!

She lies all wrapped up
A bundle of sleep
With cheeks softer than a bird's down.
Her eyes open and then close;
Her face works into a limpid gaze..
And then into a red-faced frown.

Who is this girl, who has entered my heart
Though bringing her into this world
Brought my own child so much pain?
She's not my child, but the child of my child...
But I feel motherhood all over again.

She opens her mouth and searches around;
I hand her back to her mother--
I never imagined, when I had my child,
That she would herself produce a precious Another.

Mother and father sleep in exhaustion,
Pain and worry are slowly past.
The grandchild lies in my arms;
It's amazing that across a generation
I can still succumb to this baby's charms.

How many steps is a walk in the park
When that walk is without a friend?
Without a friend, even a very short walk
Seems tiring and without an end.

How many tears are shed deep inside
When friends have to stay apart?
The outward smiles may be bright and wide
But the tears are in the heart.

How many days can one take the pain
Of not being able to meet?
Each day, one should think, brings one closer again
To the time of meeting...achingly sweet.

How many times must one think and long
For the distant friend's touch?
In every word that's heard, in every sad song...
One misses the other...so much.


This is for two friends who are forced to live on different continents. With all my love.

I looked at this photograph of some passion flowers that I took at Valley School:




And it occurred to me, that flowers make good calendars.

So I put up the picture with my thought, on this post on INW , saying that the faded red flowers are Yesterday, the blooming white ones are Today, and the buds are Tomorrow...

And a comment from someone made me think of these words in Hindi...

kal,Aj, aur kal

manAthEy hain yEh phool...

kucch ban jAthEy hai phal...

kucch sookh kar banthEy hai dhool.


(These flowers celebrate yesterday, today and tomorrow...some become fruits, and some wither and become dust...)

I put that in quotation marks because that's how my friend Chandrashekhar Bandi said it, when he sent me this image:








Chandu is one of the nicest people I know. He is perpetually volunteering his services for some cause or the other, and is an unfailingly cheerful and calm person (of course his wife and mother will disagree on that, I am sure!)


Here's what he has to say about the photograph:


"I feel Life is ajourney with mystery...the journey clear at times and at times clouded with fears. .insecurities.."


My thoughts on seeing this image:


Memories
Fade and recede, into the distance..
A few years hence
A random thought may find us
Recollecting, and remind us
Of where we have been,
Of what we have seen,
And whence
Come the tracks of thoughts like these....

And another friend's thought about it?

"How much we find comfort in associating life with man-made structures....the structures come from our interpretations ... and not the other way round"

The power of an image to provoke thoughts...!


Chandu uses an S3,just like me, but unlike me, he doesn't go about dropping it...

Thank you Chandubandi...that's a lovely, haunting image of travel, impermanence, and ghostly remembrance.....