Friday, December 31, 2010

A Blurred Vision

It's said one should walk a mile in someone else's shoes to truly empathise with that person. Well, being a helpful person I share with you here my world vision, without spectacles. A vision blurred beyond recognition. Hope this allows people with 20/20 vision a better understanding of us nearsighted visionaries. 
By the way, the first image, taken during the 2009 Kala Ghoda Festival in Mumbai, is shaky because of the multitude of people there who kept pushing me around. 
The second one is what all the clear-sighted people see.

Shaken, not stirred
What a sight

Thursday, December 30, 2010

An Exercise in Rhyming

(The following is an attempt to relive those days when I used to try and rhyme all the time. Because, to me, poetry was rhyming. I would try to rhyme everything even if it didn’t make sense. Hope this does though.)

I have no clue
on how to write something new.

Need some help from my muse
But unfortunately she’s a recluse.

Then what’s this that I brew?
A forced rhyme stew. 

Take a bite of this that I spew,
But don’t you chew.

Now I am beginning to feel blue
Maybe I will just bid everyone adieu

And start somewhere else anew
Maybe, in a room with a view.

These words are like dew
They appear when they are due.

They bind us like glue
But sometimes are so difficult to construe. 

Friday, December 24, 2010

Confessions of a Photographer

In a room, cordoned off from light 
I bring to life, captured moments, 
But they mean nothing to me, alive. 
But they lose meaning for me, alive.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Worth A Smile Or Two


These two agreed to pose for me for just a rub on their furry tummies.
Pedigreed or not, they were the best models in my area.
Though I no longer can spot them during my sporadic walks, I hope they have found a good home.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Search

A parched soul
Looking for a watering hole,
Cannot find a drop, dries out.

A tumbleweed
Running across the sand dunes,
Cannot find a resting hole, tires out.

A lamp
Looking for darkness
Cannot find the dark, lights out.

The past
Searching in the present,
Cannot find itself, dies out.

Responding to Mr Nietzsche

What doesn't kill us makes us cynical.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

An Early Encounter With A Satyanveshi

This is one of my first ever interviews. It was almost a decade back. I present to you this early work without any edits. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then, but  Tenzin Tsundue's fight for freedom continues. He has become the voice of his community and to quote him: He truly is willing 'to make any sacrifice the truth demands' for he is a Satyanveshi. Salaam 

A poet on the border- an encounter

I am a Tibetan.
But I am not from Tibet.
Never been there.
Yet I dream
of dying there.
                                                                                                               (From My Tibetanness.)

The young poet who expressed these thoughts is Tenzin Tsundue. In the three years of our friendship I have seen the growth and establishment of this bright star on the poetry horizon with the book ‘Crossing The Border’. ‘A Tibetan compelled to be in India’, a poet, a path breaker, a freedom fighter or as he says ‘an activist-poet’, lots of titles can describe him. I have the opportunity to probe into the depths of this mind and try and come out with some gems.
       And so with cups of coffee and some dogs for company we met at the Kalina campus of Mumbai University.

“Tashi Dalek, Tenzin. Thanks for braving the heat wave to meet me. To get down to the purpose of our meeting, your artistic efforts”.

In almost all your works I seem to sense this sense of expectancy, pain even possessiveness. How do you explain that?

Tenzin: You see, Ayan, my poetry is my medium of search. I don’t know what I am searching. It can be a lover, my poetic muse or independence. And while searching one is always in a flux, struggle and so there’s pain. I haven’t found a haven yet.
Even the title of the book 'Crossing the border’, suggests that.
Exactly, it’s a process, a moment in chaos. The border hasn’t been crossed yet. On the passport I am Tibetan-Indian, neither here nor there. But culturally I am a Tibetan, an Indian and a Mumbaiite. It’s a difficult situation, like standing on a divider of a two-way street and not being allowed to enter any of the flows. And it’s this sense of not belonging that prompts me to be possessive, to have something to call my own.”

Another aspect of your poems is their aggressive style. There is a definite rhythm, a beat like feel to them. Is that a conscious effort?

Tenzin: That is there. I am not good at working on sound system; still, I have this feel of sound helping me. Many times I have failed, but it fits into place many times. Like take for instance ‘Clamour Of The Beads’. I am very happy with its rhythm, construction, the sound quality, it worked out really well. It’s special. It’s not an instinctual exercise. I work again and again on my poems to make them as effective as possible.

Then what about the poem you woke up to write at 4am.

Tenzin: Oh! I did, but then I worked on it to give it a definitive shape and sound. I work hard to make my poems speak.
Some detractors have said that this angst for your state is a crutch and hampering your style. What do you have to say?
See, people read my works in a pre-conceived notion, within a specific context. They approach it all wrong. I am not perceived just as a poet at time of reading. Can’t I be a doomed person as in ‘Spider-Webbed’ or a lover? Each poem should be taken in its individual capacity. They shouldn’t be read in a particular shade.

Such an eminent personality as Adil Jussawalla has called you ‘ the emerging voice of Tibetans in exile’; it does then bring its repercussions as well as responsibilities. Doesn’t it.

Tenzin: This has happened, as this segment of Tibetans have a lot to say. I being a Tibetan talking about Tibet in the international language, in this form des bring certain public emotions to the fore. Once you are a public figure, you stop being yourself in their eyes. A lot of people listening to you put you as voice of a group of people. But a poet has to be taken as all of himself. Whatever he says, he does in his own, poetic capacity, not as representative. This reinforcement of being a representative of a group of people shouldn’t be there.

Speaking of that, you are the first Tibetan to write in English. What is the reaction in the Tibetan community?

Tenzin: Well, with the publication of my book and the readings in various Tibetan schools, I do some affect. Till now they were being feed on a diet of such canonical works as Wordsworth, Keats. They do have some relevance but we cannot relate to them culturally. They and the things around them are part of the cultural, political milieu I write about. And having set a trend, it will encourage people to write in this form to express themselves. And this is something that is already happening.

To move on, what are the influences in your writing?

Tenzin: (Laughs)…can’t really say influence. I don’t seem to show any of their good qualities. Of course, authors like Frost, A.K.Ramanujan, Ruskin Bond, Cummings, Theodore Roethke, Camus, Hardy, Lawrence…

And Khalil Gibran…

Tenzin: Of course, it all started with him. In the 11th standard, a couple of friends took some of his works from the library, not issued though, hid them, used to go to the hills and read him out loud. That they were translations didn’t matter. Beautiful similes and metaphors.
My classmates are my first audience, and critics. I wouldn’t have written without them. Also people like Adil Jussawalla, Nissim Esikiel, Dom Moraes, and of course The Bombay Poetry Circle have played an important role in my life.

Being Tibetan, religion must be an important aspect of your life.

Tenzin: Not really, I am not religious. Never been conscious of it. You know, when I visit a religious site, the beauty, artistry and architecture amazes me, but the spirituality never overwhelms me. For me, being a good person is being a good Buddhist.

Especially, in the present global situation what role does an artist have to play?

Tenzin: It’s strange, America declaring war on something present in the world for such along time. Now suddenly, the center’s ideal has been disturbed and they can hear the voices of the periphery. Terrorism is a concept about people, without a voice, on the fringes, trying to affect the center. Like a mouse trying to dig a hole in the mountain. Look at Taiwan, Mongolia, Tibet suppressed by China for so long. Coming back to your point. No artist lives in an ivory tower. He has a voice like the man on the street. He expresses it through his art. In the present climate he should try and bring about more heightened sensibilities among the people to try and solve the problem.

You are the General Secretary of ‘ Friends Of Tibet India’, what are the events you are involved in?

Tenzin: We are an organization working towards grater awareness of the Tibetan situation. And towards this goal we organize various events in the different centers of the country. We have The Contemporary Tibetan Art Festival coming up in Dharamsala, on the 27th and 28th of October, involving paintings readings, photography, films and other artistic endeavors by Tibetans.

So, what else have you been doing?

Tenzin: Recently, I read my Tibetan poems on RadioFreeAsia, a service aimed at Tibetans in Tibet. It is broadcast in 11 Asian languages. It was a novel experience. My Tibetan poems have taken some liberties with traditional form. The traditional form has archaic words, stanziac and syllabled structure, making them difficult to approach. Mine has free verse and commonly used terms. Making them more approachable. 

Prose is an area you have neglected, despite winning the Picador-Outlook Non-Fiction Competition 2001 in March.

Tenzin: I am exploring this form now. The first step was a giant leap for me; after all, the Picador event was my first prose effort. Now I am working on a collection of short stories. About ordinary Tibetans in difficult situations. People, who despite failures are heroes due to their survival spirit.

What else are you working on? When is the next edition of the book coming out?

Tenzin: Not in the near future. I am currently working on a script for a short film, Kora (full circle). It’s about the generation gap in the Tibetan community. Talking of socio-political issues against a religious backdrop. It’s about breaking the obstinate boundaries and coming to an understanding. Apprehensive about it’s success. The liberties literature offers is not there in films with considerations of light, sound, image, camera angle thrown in.

His pager beeps calling him to another meeting. And so we part with my thirst left unquenched.

Our perceptions may place Tenzin in the bright lights but he remains the same simple genius. The guy I remember working like crazy to fulfill his passion, creating magic with words or simply enjoying the company of friends.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Inspiration

I look at the blank page with an even blanker stare.
All I can think of is ejaculating on it without a care.
The blank page is a challenge, a dare.
Its emptiness resembling the wastelands, oh so bare!
Words are the knife with which to I pare
myself, layer after layer – one a saint, the other a player.
Lonely despite my many selves, nothing can save me – not even a prayer.
I think it’s time someone comes and heals that tear.
Like a stallion on heat looking for a mare,
I search for that maiden, my muse, oh so fair!
But all I get to see is an empty rocking chair.
Oh, if only I had someone who would care.
That’s my life, summed up in a tear.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

A Very Short Short Story

He called to say he was coming to get me. And that I only had 10 minutes. All I could do was wait impotently for him. And then the doorbell rang. And there he was. Ready to take me to the airport.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

MY FIRST PRESS RELEASE

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: 12th October 2010


Games24x7.com Launches Grand Diwali Rummy Tournament

India's Biggest Online Rummy Tournament Offers Players A Chance To Compete For Rs. 10 Lakhs* In Prize Money


A most spectacular Diwali awaits all rummy lovers of India following the launch of the nation's biggest online rummy tournament on October 2nd, 2010.

Games24x7.com, India's premier online games site, is celebrating the festive season with its Diwali Rummy Tournament, a month-long tournament for all rummy lovers. The competition, running between October 2nd and November 7th, 2010, is the biggest in the history of online rummy tournaments in India with a total cash prize of Rs. 10 Lakhs*.

The Diwali Rummy Qualifiers (DRQs) are expected to host the largest gathering of online rummy players for a single event, with approximately 13,000 seats open in the qualifying rounds. The criterion for participation is very simple: anyone above 18 who wishes to participate has to first open an account with Games24x7.com for free. He/she can then enter the qualifier rounds running throughout the month, multiple times a day. Participation in these qualifying tournaments is on a first-come-first-served basis only.

The finals of the Diwali Rummy Tournament will be held on November 7th, with Rs. 1,50,000* in total cash prizes waiting to be won.

Playing rummy with friends and family has been an integral part of our Diwali celebrations. It is the perfect opportunity for friends and families to enjoy some quality time together over a relaxing game of cards. This Diwali, Games24x7.com offers rummy players across India a unique opportunity to truly enjoy this auspicious occasion.

For more information visit www.games24x7.com/Diwali

Contact Name: Sachin Uppal
Phone: 022-42323456

About Games24x7.com

Games24x7.com is India's largest portal offering 13-Card Rummy, the most popular card game in India. We provide friendly and light-hearted competitive entertainment to Internet users from across India. Rummy is a 'game of skill' that has been expressly approved by the Supreme Court of India. Coming soon to Games24x7.com are other very popular games of skill such as pool, carrom, and bridge.

* Terms and conditions apply.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

GRANDDAD

Sitting in the rocking chair
-toothless mouth,
sucking away at the morsel.
Staring at the shadows
of calloused palms,
with those lines etched on them,
Remembering the stories
ingrained within them.
You look a thousand and five wrinkles old,
And are, five grandchildren young.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Responding to Mr Shakespeare

A rose by any other name will wither away

FLASHLIGHTS

Flashlights hit me from all sides
Cannot breath- try to reach out,
Nobody to hold on to.
A sea of photographs shallow me
Scream out to the wide expanse of moving bodies
Nobody, they on the shore, remain dry.
Suddenly a lasso of perfume
Reaches out and holding on to
my last breath, pulls me out.

And I
saved
shiver,
For the flashlights are waiting on the shore.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Bloodline

Humans have an inherent inclination towards segregation and classification. All of us do it, whether consciously or otherwise.
Ustad Zakir Husain had once said that though he didn't feel comfortable with his music being classified as 'fusion', it was the music companies and marketing honchos who had decided to do so. Allocating a designated spot on the shelf for the music lovers made everyone’s life (that is everyone other than the musicians) a lot easier.
The same holds true for other facets of our lives -- be it segregation by class, lineage, physical attributes or even intelligence.
Take for instance the so-called dog lovers out there. There are some who can spend hours raving about their pedigreed Great Dane and its great bloodline, and then in the same breath ranting about the menace of the street dogs in the locality.
This is what a child would say to all of them: “Street dogs are also dogs.” Not being clean and pedigreed doesn't stop them from belonging to the same species. Stop beating them and treating them as inferior. And by the way, it is only because of their pathetic living conditions and people’s constant apathetic attitude towards them that these emaciated dogs can get cranky.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

INCOMPLETE HISTORY

The unquiet grows.

A neon sign
hides an antiquated long forgotten home.
But the residents of the home do not disappear
They exist
As an island
And can see the mainland, all the time

The bright lights from the mainland are blinding them
But slowly, their bespectacled eyes focus,
Awaken with new sight

They are starting to believe in the apparitions around them.
These phantoms are their new God
There to bring them out from behind the curtain.

And so,
they start out with knuckle-dusters
and mashaals ablaze,
to break down the sign.
This is their 'Rights of Passage'.

The flame reaches for the heaven,
Proudly proclaiming the start of a new war,
It will burn all believes
And die a clichéd death

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Invisibles

Look. See. Feel. Touch.

Most of us think of ourselves as survivors. Fighters who battle the odds to come up on top at the end of the day.

Well, some wage a daily battle against the Keres (the blood-craving sisters of Thanatos, the Greek god of non-violent death). They hope to emulate King Sisyphos, who outwitted Thanatos. Unlike the celebrities engaged in a hypocritical war against the paparazzi, these people are always in the public eye and would do almost anything to be noticed. But, hardly anyone even knows of their existence. We pass them every day, but fail to see them. Look through them. They are after all dirty embellishments on the beautiful edifice of our city and life.

Recently, while walking in the city late at night, I felt a strange presence. Like some unseen eyes staring at me. Glaring at me for committing some heinous crime. Looking around, I realize I am in a bedroom. And a family is staring at me. It’s those invisible masses who fight off death every day when they make the footpath their bedroom.

I am in their home. The space that converts into a drawing room, kitchen, and a little further away is their toilet too. I would be considered a trespasser and thief if I had entered any walled house, but here I can arrogantly claim that they are the trespassers. Strange.

These people are the true cogs of a city. They not only do those activities, which we are too ‘educated’ to do or too disgusted. Ultimately, the greatness of a city and civilization cannot be gauged by the GDP, satellites, factories, production, accomplishments, but by the way it treats it most disfranchised, the down-and-out and the ‘losers’. After all, we are defined by not only what we do and how we do what we do, but also who we do it to.

TRAPPED

Leading a holstered life.

To go off means self-inflicted pain,
Not to – the same.
Imposed sado-mascohism.

Standing erect or on bended knees,
Just want to look straight in the eyes

But the fear persists,
Of living unholstered, of getting lost.
To go off unintended
or on the unintended.

Leading a life on leash.
To run off means a cage
Or even an injection
-- imposed domesticity.

But the fear remains,
Unleashed, running in circles.
May bite the buddy,
And lick the baddie.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Just a thought

Drowning man’s last words –

Water, water, everywhere, too much to drink.

Friday, July 30, 2010

GIMLETS

I
My manipulations fail as the
audience of negligent ears is
too busy visualizing the applause
at the end of their own games.

II
Reality is a vegetable wrap,
Or a chaat, enjoyable at its messiest.
Alluring colours and flavours abound,
In hidden corners trying to peek through,
Some familiar, some getting there,
And some never allowed to.

III
To be or not to be, that is the question,
Not really, for not knowing the question
would get you only a B or less.
The answer flows from the question,
For like a mother, the question hides its answer
First in its womb, then nestled in its arms.
It is for us to wean it away into reality.
And finally let it be.

IV
The screaming inside is voiceless
Its attempts to jump the fence
lead only to solitary confinement.
The highly-strung sinews can’t stretch, curl up.
Escape finally within six-strings.

V
Faith went for a walk
And came back to find its house in ruins.
Despondent, it wondered aloud,
“How could this be? I left it just for a while and
that too under lock, taking the key with me!”
The crumbling edifice replied,
“You forgot that you are my lock, my insurance, the keeper of my safety.”

Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Gardener

(Dedicated to my professor of Shakespeare)
As you stand on the pedestal
and tell us about archetypes
I see your disappointment
When you see all the stereotypes
Sitting in the room,
You feel that we are all
“collectively unconscious”.
The gardener is earnest and enthusiastic,
and the fertilizer rich,
Yet the garden has a small yield,
No roses bloom, so you may feel gloom.
Despair not…
The land is not barren,
But has too many weeds
and pebbles in it,
maybe the previous gardeners
weren’t as enthusiastic at their work
Maybe they didn’t try new methods
But as it maybe
Remove these cloggings and you
Will have a rich and yielding land.