Stained Glass

The Son of Man

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 17:43:00 +0000

Recently, I stumbled upon the following, while following this link, its about a painting, called The Son of Man.

Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.
- Rene Magritte

The complete thing is here

आज कल वो नहीं आते .....

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 08:29:00 +0000

आज कल वो नहीं आते, उनकी याद भी नहीं आती,
रोना तो हम चाहते हैं, आँखें ही भर नहीं आती |

अगर सोना चाहें , नींद भी नहीं आती,
रात भर जागना चाहे , रात ही नहीं आती |

जीना तो हम नहीं चाहतें , मौत भी नहीं आती ,
ऐ जिंदगी तू अपनी हरकतों से बाज़ नहीं आती |

- मी

P.S : ( उगीच सुचल्या ओळी म्हणुन लिहिलेले आहे, कृपया अर्थ काढू नयेत .... गुलाम अली ह्यांचा गज़लांचा कार्यक्रम बघितला, त्याचा परिणाम आहे ... :D )

Screwdriver

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 18:03:00 +0000

I am going to do this once in a while. Sacred stupid thoughts that pop up on seeing some word or phrase, and word-twistings that arise out of them... I am going to put them right here, under this tag. So here goes the first one,

What to do call a thing that drives a screw inside a say, hole or bore... ? A screwdriver.....
And, what do you call (not you actually, I call) a drunk-driver who is off balance and driving his vehicle in random directions, (driving others crazy..).. ? A skew-driver.....

And a fielder who misjudges the catch, and jumps at a wrong angle to try n grab the ball. . ? A skew-diver......

And the captain of a ship ... ? A crew-driver....

And what could a polluted river be called.. .? A screwed-river....

Thank you...

Tricolor

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 05:26:00 +0000

Let the Base be Pure...

void Random ( Infinity )

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 15:25:00 +0000

I delved deep,
Deep through the Infinity,
Of the Fathomless, the Unempty,
Walking, running, gliding, flying,
Slithering, crawling, dashing, stamping
Digging deep, and climbing high,
From shouting harsh, to whispering a sigh .. .. ..

In search of the End, or the Beginning ?
I don't know, I don't have a clue,
Out of the brown, the green or the blue,
It is in springs, it is in dry cracks,
I can't see it, it covers its tracks,
It is in looking, or just feeling,
In telling or just in simply listening... ...

I wander, formless, naked, shameless,
Visible to nobody, but myself only,
In the infinite Crowd, lonely, lonely
Looking in silence, looking in whisperings,
In silver sounds, from golden strings,
On the lonely cloud, by the lonely leaf,
There is faith, yet there is no belief.

I roam the streets of Emptiness,
Trying to find a Road, to Infinity,
Words and thoughts, beyond sanity,
I hear those sounds, I see nothing,
I see everything, then I hear nothing,
out of words, out of thoughts, out of mind,
I am, out of thoughts, out of mind, out of mind .. .. ..

- ( ? ... ? ... ? ...)

P . S : Never mind ....

Saying Good-Bye

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 11:45:00 +0000

Recently, I went through a lot of events of partings. There were "many partings". And at that instant of parting, it feels awful. The one who is leaving, going away from a place he/she likes, will obviously feel bad, though they are leaving the place out of necessity and their own choice too. But whatever may be the reason they are going, that moment of separation, parting is painful.
At such partings until now, there has been always been a farewell, the good-bye is always prolonged. We give a party, give a gift and try to say "good bye".
However, nowadays I feel, that such things make the parting difficult. With people around getting senti etc, it increases the reluctance (there is the inevitability of that parting, but still). In the end people just have to part ways. Making that parting too senti (take senti definition in any way that pleases you :-) ) therefore should be avoided. It should be short, and sweet. Break it in one stroke. It pains less. Thats what I think nowadays. And wherever they go, through the means of communications we have, we can always be in touch. Sending or going with a nice pack of memories is always nice, it helps. The time one has spent with his parents, friends and all, those memories, are certainly with that person, wherever he/she goes. Making that last moment of parting too senti will not help much in improving that stack of memories may be. I don't wish to say that there should be no farewell kinda things or something like that, but I certainly think (nowadays) that keeping that event "dry" and short, will be more comfortable.
Views if any, if you have and if you will ...

Change...

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 15:13:00 +0000

Well, in my first post on this new blog I had stated that "there would be no poems here". However, now I have decided that I will put poems here too... and my other blog I am going to perhaps delete. Lets see. :D

Life

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 15:07:00 +0000

What is Life? I ask myself,
Is it something chained up in destiny,
Where every moment is a scrutiny,
Or something some rise against in mutiny ?

Is it like a Kite,
For which we have to fight
To maintain its flight,
To maintain its height?

Is it like a boat,
Trying to stay afloat,
In the endless oceans
Of difficulties and emotions?

Is it like a dew on a leaf
Which when cool has relief
But, vanishes at the sight
Of the mighty Sun shining bright?

I think,
Life is a long path,
At whose end perhaps is death,
When we leave this Earth,
Perhaps ready for Rebirth!

Comments:

Prajwalit said...

Excellent!! Awesome !!!
Way to go man..
you rock !

Manasi said...

Hmm..... :)

Sidd said...

sahi hai kaka!!!

Vedang said...

of all the poems, i like this one best.
short, sweet, and nice. dokyala trass nahi...

slash said...

arre bhari!!!!!
how many more hidden talents have u got dude??

~~ @ks|-|@y@ ~~ said...

agree with vedang... this one is simple n easy to relish .. gr8 work

Aaron said...

life is the journey, neither the beginning, nor the end.....just the journey...we live just once..one life!...one journey...and nothing else before or after matters..

From Dusk to Dawn

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 15:02:00 +0000

The Sun sets down at Dusk,
And the cool breeze flows with musk,
The night up the horizon creeps
And elixir down the Heaven seeps.

After the blazing sun at noon,
It is now the turn of the Moon,
He sprinkles soothing ecstasy
And the world plunges into fantasy.

Stars start twinkling like gems,
Beautifying Mother Earth's diadem,
And the Moon appears the prettiest,
Adding to the starry zest.

The Moon lights up the river,
Turning her to silver,
There were stars up till now up there,
Now they are here everywhere.

The night slowly rises,
The beauty of the Earth us mesmerizes
And then slowly the Night departs
After soothing tired bodies and hearts!

Comments :

@$%deja vu$% said...

too good man !!
u rock !
proper poet u r !!

Manasi said...

hi kadhi lihili?

Shashank said...

खरंच छान कविता केली आहेस.
किती तरी दिवसांनी "रात्री"चे अप्रतिम वर्णन करणारी कविता वाचायला मिळाली...

Vedang said...

bhari...
very creative... :D
i didnt know we had a poet among us!

The Bird

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 01:25:00 +0000

The Bird

In this world,
Where there are Birds,
Some are free,sitting on a tree
But some are in a a cage, not on a tree....

Once there was a Bird...,
On a tree when that Bird was,
Unnoticed went the time,Hour by hour
He was free to take a leap,
Open his wings and have a peep
In the sylvan retreat,
Of the Nature so very sweet,
And flying across, in the arms
That the Wind opened to him,
He made fade all the charms
And even the most beautiful thing,
Would be shied by that open wing.

But suddenly that Bird,
Was trapped in a net
That was set by a cruel somebody.
For whose pleasure
The Bird didn't know...
But knew that his capture,
Was cared for by few.

The trap-setter,
Put the Bird in a cage,
And the Bird realized later,
That a new passage,
Was leading towards a cottage
Where he could see,
A small figure, of not much age
Waiting, near a tall tree
For someone...,perhaps the trap setter
When they came nearer,
The Bird saw an eager face,
It was the trap-setter's daughter
Running towards them with pace.
When she saw the Bird,
Clad in Divinely pretty wings,
She couldn't find a word,
To say "How my heart sings!",
The little child was happy,
And sang around merrily,
Of her endless play,
With the Bird sitting in the cage.
Speechlessly, the Bird was now thinking,
How the time wold pass,
With the merry girl, singing and playing
More quickly than the time passing,
In the Mountains, trees and grass.
He could now peep,
Into the heart of the little child,
Who would once weep,
Due to her loneliness piled,
When her father went outside,
And there was no one near
To sit by her side, to wipe her tear.

The Bird was now happy,
Although he was in a cage,
As he was the little creature,
To play with her,sing with her,
To remain friends forever.

Comments :

Prateek said...

the poem's simple and beautiful.. but u wrote it??? if yes.. then keep it up.. even if its no then still it was nice to read it..

@$%deja vu$% said...

good poem yaar .... !!!
u wrote it ??

Gayatri Patwardhan said...

sometimes i wonder,

we have both - a bird n a trap setter - inside us..
chasing eachother sometimes..running away from eachother other times..
but they do exist.

i liked t way u concluded ur poem. thts what we all shd b..positive :)
keep writing!

The Golden Sparrow

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 01:21:00 +0000

The Golden Sparrow chirps today,
With little happiness but great dismay,
She is surviving the whomping wind,
With hopes floating in her mind.

The leaves rustle as the wind blows,
The waves jingle as the water flows,
And they whisper to the sparrow,
The happenings of tomorrow.

They tell her that her sons,
Will dawn like a thousand suns,
Who will her destiny change,
Creating a new Golden Age.

But the sparrow has worries too,
And worries what her sons will do,
As many of them just fly away,
Never to return another day.

She had the neighbors to look out,
With their hostile ambushing hide-outs,
Which were terrorizing her nest,
With little help from the east or west.

She fights them off with valour,
And stands upright amidst Red color,
As the night besieging it turns darker,
And winds are ready to strike with thunder.

But she hopes that the clouds will clear,
And her effort and sons will bring cheer,
The clouds will then act as messengers
Of peace and harmony, more than sky's measure.

She knows that the day will ascend,
When all terror and her agonies will end,
She will be once again the Golden Sparrow,
By whom gain will dawn tomorrow.

She will sore high, sore high
Over the mountains up into the sky,
With the World under her wings,
And the Heavens will her glory sing...!

Written On: 31st January 2003.

Comments:

Frostbite said...: symphony in simplicity.............
man, i m just amazed at how you can write something so beautiful still so simple.............simply amazing!!

Through the Mindow........

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 17:21:00 +0000

Talking about Language

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 18:18:00 +0000

I always wonder, how did the first names come into existence...? Like when man first saw say fire, what would he have called it? Suppose we see something totally new, something which we have never seen before. In that case we don't know what to call that thing. But, we say that this thing looks like some another thing. We associate it with something we previously know. Also, we can give it a name based on its attributes. Like its color, shape, sound, etc. The reason we are able to call it something, is that we have a pool of words in our brain.

But consider a situation where there is no language as such. We don't have any pool of words, for any thing that we see around us, nothing at all. Now, if we want to communicate, we can through writing or through saying something or may be through sign language. While writing at least we can use pictures. Like to indicate something is tall, we might draw a coconut tree. Thus, we want to say that something is like the coconut tree. Also, sign language can be useful to show tall with hands. But what about speech ? What will you say to say "tall". How did it happen that something which is very great in height is called"tall" and something like "fkjfafha" .

Any ideas ?

P.S: Wouldn't it be nice if one is able to achieve a blank slate state of mind. That is I don't know anything, that a tree is called a tree, what is tall or anything. When I see something I just feel something in my mind. Thats all. And then when I need to communicate, I will think of some word, so some sounds or some representation for that feeling in my head, some sign language. That will be the most true and original word for that entity. How will I think and would eventually come in mind is something I can't imagine. I can think of this process, but not the outcome.

Clouded.........

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 04:36:00 +0000

It was a clear, cloudless Sky. It had been so for a long time, a very long time. There was nothing to intrude upon its vast emptiness. But still it was beautiful, happy and spotless. Tiny wisps of clouds, blown by the Wind went across, but none of them prevailed, it was just a fleeting moment of disturbance. It happened everyday, and they passed away. Occasional fliers, similar to the clouds came and went, but the Sky didn't care. It knew it would pass away. It watched the Earth below, under itself, so down beneath, where things changed everyday. The Sky spanned proudly in its own permanence, it changed colours with the Sun, nothing else could change them, nothing at all. It cared about that mighty Sun, about the Wind, but not much for the Earth, it hardly cared otherwise. It enjoyed its emptiness, it enjoyed that spotless bliss, and it thought that it was meant to be so forever, as it had been up till now.

One day, the Wind blew very hard, and brought clouds, not those tiny wisps, but huge black clouds, filled with Water. Water that had been brought up from the Sea by the Sun, and carried by the Wind. It had seen this happen everyday, but had never cared. Never cared. But now, suddenly, those black clouds came, and prevailed. The Wind stopped. Its beloved Sun was lost. Only some rays could be seen, He was hidden behind the clouds. The huge rain-clouds. Everything was dark. The Sky was no more spotless, it was overcast. Then he saw the Lightning, shimmering across itself, with great flashes, and great noise.

And then, it started raining. The raindrops rushed towards a very welcoming and grateful Earth. The Earth was flooded with changes, it looked so beautiful. The Sky watched in amazement. The raindrops, the lightning, the Earth and the Clouds...!! It was actually liking all this, to its own surprise. The Sky cared. Now, in its own watery, moist, black, noisy self, the Sky reveled. It had changed. It had always cared for the Sun, hardly ever for the Earth, but now it did. It cared for both.

And in the midst of all this only the Sun and the Earth and the Wind and the Sea knew, that this would change too, only the Sky didn't realize......

----------------------------------------------------

Note: The other sound in my mind speaks like this sometimes.... not the other one..... ;)

Yggdrasill

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 03:34:00 +0000

An amazing concept I stumbled upon..!

Yggdrasill is an Ash tree, at the centre of all worlds. It is the World Tree of life and knowledge, and of time and space. On the highest branches sits an eagle, and twisted round its roots lies a snake, gnawing at the tree. The eagle and the snake hate each other. A squirrel runs up and down the tree, telling each in turn what rude things the other is saying!

Its roots span the yawning chasm of nothing and chaos, which is filled with many worlds.

One of its roots extended into Niflheim, the underworld; another into Jötunheim, land of the giants; and the third into Asgard, home of the gods. At its base were three wells: Urdarbrunnr (Well of Fate), from which the tree was watered by the Norns (the Fates); Hvergelmir (Roaring Kettle), in which dwelt Nidhogg, the monster that gnawed at the tree's roots; and Mímisbrunnr (Mimir's Well), source of wisdom. If these waters dry up Yggdrasill dies. After Ragnarök (Doomsday), the world tree, though badly shaken, was to be the source of new life.

If you drink from the Mimir, you will get wisdom and understanding. Odin thought it was so important to be wise that he gave one of his eyes for a drink from the spring. From that time on, he only had one eye, but he was the cleverest of the gods. Odin went on to invent Runes, the Nordic system of writing.

Note: Compiled from 2 different sources ([1] and [2]).

The Spam Love Song

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 04:59:00 +0000

(a little out of tune with the blog... but still......)
A tribute to Spam..!!!
[ In typical "that" style - (i.e "you this I that" style :D) ...
bhayAnak oDhun tANun..!! :P :D]

Your there, therefore I am,
I am Frodo, you are Sam
I am the process, and you the RAM,
O Spam, O dear Spam...!

You are the shell, I am clam,
I am CF you are CAM,
I am the river, you are Dam,
O Spam, dearest Spam..!!!

I am bread, you are jam
I ain't a pig, you are still ham,
I am not ewe, still you are a ram,
O Spam, dear old Spam..!

Theres no space but you manage to cram,
I, the commuter and you, the only tram,
You are the horn in the Traffic jam,
O Spamius, O greatest Spam..!

I Spam, therefore I am,
Without the "e" in fame, I am fam,
But this is lame, with an "e" in lam,
O dear Spam, I can't write more, Damn..!!!!

- Spamwise Spamgee

S e p a r a t i o n ..... ......

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 17:26:00 +0000

There are such things in life, which happen unexpectedly, and then when the time of separation from those things comes, it is a little painful to let them go. "There are some things, which we miss after they go away from us, those were the things we didn't try not to miss while they were with us." Separation is not really a pleasant experience. I have many times tried to think myself out of such moments.

I myself think this to be a little foolish, but I many times try this. Whenever I have been in such 'separation' events, I have tried to think of its brighter side. Suppose someone close to you passes away, at first you will feel really very bad. I myself went through such an experience. But then I attempted to "think" myself out of this. Some quotes like 'Death is just a way we must all take.' or 'Death is just another journey for the well-organized mind' popped inside my mind. And they soothed me. I actually believed that there is just a single place, beyond may be even our normal concept of space and time, where we will all meet once again. (This is getting a little odd or something but thats how I felt)
I have always tended to tackle such 'senti or painful or extreme' moments by thought and thought alone. Like if you are in pain, try to think what 'pain' is and try to think that pleasure is what pain is (This is especially useful in case of tooth-ache :D ). So is the case with separation.

I think separation is temporary and it is physical. We are now in the final few months of our college life. And naturally this 'separation feeling' suddenly pops out sometimes. And for a moment I really feel very bad (almost teary). But then again , the 'thought-out-way-out' scheme starts off. I try to think of all the nice and great times we had and are having. And I try to please myself with the thought that I have a mind, which has all these nice memories which I can recall anywhere anytime, I have such a source of joy that nothing can take away, its inside me. So theres no need to lament over the 'separation', I have to just look inside, thats all.........

Waaghjai - Our Tekdi.....

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 02:51:00 +0000

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Second Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Nachiket) — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 03:00:00 +0000

So, this is the second beginning. Of blogging.
There are going to be no poems (or similar entities which are on my other blog) here.
I don't know what going to be there here, but it seems I know what is 'not' going to be posted here.
Lets see.......