Its me!

So who am I really? Is there something about me that is really 'Me'; something unique? Am I product of happenstance, a series of accidental encounters with artists of destiny, each adding his touch to his vision of a masterpiece. Or am I like the floyd number goes- 'Another brick in the Wall'. As I keep delving into this, I realize that we are all probably just a hop-scotch of the caricatures of people, images & experiences that we have run into at various points of life. Its logical you see. Your facial charecteristics, your body, your skin color is just a mixture of your Mom & Dad's genetic signatures. You learnt your morals through your parents morals or God's inbuilt conscience. The way you talk, the language you speak, the words you choose were all learnt from your social circles. Your interests, your hobbies also is dependent on influences of youth. Your idea of romance, marriage, parenting etc is either ingrained from experiences of your own family or some warped sense of it from the countless hollywood movies or books being churned out. In other words we are all a pot pouri, a melange of scents accumulated over time each indistinguishable from the other. The individual scents were probably unique at some time, but when I cannot say. I saw a movie recently where the heroine suddenly makes some wierd nasal noises and contorts funnily . She answers her guy's incredulous look by saying that every now & then she tries to do something really unique & its satisfying knowing that she is probably the only one who ever did that. Funny! But meaningful in the sense that all of us like artists are trying to carve our niche out in this world, each promoting the brand 'me', discovering & reinventing. Me, I am resigned to the fact that life gives me an opportunity to be an expert perfumer to mix & match scents, some bad and some good and everywhere along the road I recreate magic by creating unique blends; a pot pourri, but nevertheless pleasant and soothing to everyone who passes me by.

At the lake with friends & some music for the Soul.

I happen to attend a Friday church youth gathering as a regular affair every week. More on that perhaps some other time. Last friday we wound up after dinner and discussions and were listening to some wonderful work on the guitar from Donald (blame it on the Mizo blood) and some amazing vocals from Donald & Rahul. At some point Rahul suggested we head off to the lake (I think its called Pelandur-near HSR layout). Now I must admit that it didnt look anywhere close to the picture on the right. In fact it seems during the day you can see the amount of pollution present. Anyways we parked the car on the deserted road alongside the lake. Construction Cranes at an apartment site far on the left gave an impression of an harbour and planes landing & taking off now & then on the far right created an aloof kind of feeling. And there we were for about an hour and a half, the guitar dancing to Donald's tunes, sweet lilting music into the night air; songs of yesteryears, food for the soul- Simon & Garfunkel, Scorpions, Pink Floyd, Seal, John Denver. The four of us staring into the lake, the moon lighting our faces. hmmmmmm! At some point I did wonder what I was doing here with 3 GUYS, but yeah! the place was not romantic in any sense. I guess it was just the music & the darkness, the moon and the lake and they all came together as we had. It was sad, but we had to leave by midnight and we did promise that we should do this often. But I did thank God for that wonderful time, for friends, for talents & for just plain good old happiness.

Loneliness

Here I am again & to post another one of my old poems. I don't like it much. You may not either as it reflects on negative emotions. Don't know what it is about me that makes me express my emotions a lot better poetically when I am sad or down. Must try to write a happy poem sometime. Till then read this one. I wrote this poem when I was going through some difficult times in my life and I felt all alone. The people around me hadn't changed, but my view of the world around me had and the loneliness of the journey was exhausting. But I also realized that there are certain journeys that will be trudged alone and the changes it produces in you if good would be worth the pain inflicted on you.

In times of mirth and plenty
When we basked in days sunny
I never found reason to question
Who stood by me in love true

Now autumns changed to endless summer
No water does the ground yield
To even a distressed sojourner
All hope is lost, for deafness abounds

I am in despair, I cry in space
Seasons, world, family, friends, every things changed
I stand still and time does not
Whats to become of me, the poet pondered

Then I turned and looked in darkness vast
Stepped, stumbled and trod on hungry ground
I faced the truth of ancient wisdom
That when all is lost, ones lone

Now I read your mind, the poet muses
Did not even strangers water these very lips?
Yes kindness I received, I do not deny
Nevertheless it’s not the body that despaireth, but the spirit.

Retribution

Its been a long time since I published anything on my blog. But I am glad I am back & I am going to do my best to be regular at this. I had been inspired to write this poem about 6 years ago after seeing a movie called 'Rosewood'. This is a true story based on a nearly forgotten incident which took place in January 1923, in the small Florida Town of Rosewood where a prosperous African-American Community lived a peaceful but tolerable existence with the Whites. That existing peace was shattered when a white woman, Fannie Taylor falsely and out of fear of her husbands wrath (she had had an affair with a white Man who had beaten her) says that a black Man had assaulted her. With that lie, began a week of lynchings, beatings, burnings and destruction of properties. The Town of Rosewood was totally destroyed. With men, women and children taking refuge in the swamp hiding from the lynch mobs, only a few brave people, both Black and White stood firm against the onslaught of the mob and rescued the women and children. The poem is dark, but if you are a firm believer in eventual justice, you will like the play of words...........

Black bodies hanging from trees
Swaying in the winds of hate.
Hooded horsemen, the white man,
Galloping into the dark of night.
The moon in shame hides
Colored children in fields lie
Their homes in pieces shredded
And parents hacked in deep memories
Men are chasing away their own kind
Chasing a shade, their dark shadow.
Why did you kill your brother, O White man?
Why do you still hate him so?
Can’t you hear his innocent blood?
Scream for reconciliation to the heavens above.
Return, ‘O’ White man, Return to me,
Says the ground, swept by sands of time.
Your evil dreams have perished with you
For white bodies are hanging from trees
Swaying in the winds of justice
And hooded avengers, the black angels
Gallop away in the sweet light of day.