Life, Musings, Misadventures, Epiphanies by Arun Raj

What am I here to create That was not already here? What do I hope to gain  That has never been attained? What more meaning do I realise Beyond what stares into me right now? What loves - new or missed would matter To the lives that I never lived? What limitless things can I possess That possess me more than I them? What endless tomorrows await me That offer more than the limitless now? *** Painting: The Ninth Wave -    Ivan Aivazovsky  

Bare! Bare it all, Into that long night. Like a mother, To her baby, a tiger to its prey. Fail! Fail deeper Into the deepest chasms. There, in the unending dark Of the pits of drear, are answers more dear.

<Beware of the night> ...  Somewhere in the night's silence lies peace. A wayward feather drifts aimlessly in the winter breeze. 'Freedom', said the messaih, 'is and is not'. Words trickling unbound through my mind's mazes -  Of witch hunts & bubble teas, failings & mishti dahi. Bare white the canvas of future, but bloody to me. Fair maidens say, 'look to the green side'. Lustful of the free, Mothers of a playground talk. Thoughts - many - flow upstream on rivers of anxiety. Dark truths pushing downstream. I spoke to the sun of a day like today; About taking freedom from a random world. 'Take it all, but not my heart' wished I to my current captor. 'Let me be the wayward feather, the unbound mother, the paint-less canvas.' The sun said to me, 'Freedom is and is not'. ...  

A fickle shimmer of a once bright star - I  Am neither one nor zero - a quantum inadequacy. A presence so insignificant - so much so An attempt to quantify me is banal.  Why so do the unfamiliar many Want to steal my fickle shimmer? I wonder. I fret.  Incessantly, as I flicker through the day,  The days merge into nights & light years pass by. The end - somewhere out there. At the end of infinity times infinity. Ah! Infinite time, we should curse. Right? For no other feels guilty enough for our somethingness. Let's fight time! Let's fight infinite futility. For a definite end to this current particulate existence. Beam me out Scotty, not up, from now. Or, may be I am wrong! The Naive many think death is right, Away from flickering away as a quantum inadequacy. Never fully formed, never fully there. Forever more, forever so, stringed up in a causal loop. The confident Masses think forward is right, Away from a non-zero existence. Confident - more energy is more m...

Continued from Part 2: Arjun the Contender ... Arya set his wooden sword back into his belt and bent down to settle himself into position. Like most great champions, Arya had his superstitions. Left leg knee went down first, then switch to right leg knee. In Arya’s eyes the world looked different. His world was now the scene of a live colosseum, where gladiators fought for glory. In his ears, the sounds of murmuring children around him were like a 100,000 strong crowd willing him on, to kill at will.  Shabaaz stood by Arya, pumping him up. “You were made for this! Focus on this moment. Fly like a butterfly & sting like a bee.”, encouragingly Shabaaz said to Arya. Both highly driven followers of Muhammad Ali.  While Arya had his superstitions and Shabaaz, Arjun had his younger brother, Virat, by his side. Virat never left Arjun’s side. Virat was 3 and a bunch of energy and seemed to always hunt for trouble. Arjun found it comforting to have his brother by his side ...

Every weekend I returned from college, the four of us - mother, my two sisters and I, we had a little ritual. We had dinner under the open skies on the terrace of our home in Kerala. The typical city dweller might awe at this experience, but this was a regular for us. The beauty of most homes in Kerala is that there is space left around the home for plants, coconut trees, mango trees, teak & then quite a bit of strolling space. After dinner, we sat up a little later into the night, after keeping only the necessary lights on about the house, and lay down on the terrace together to star gaze and marvel at the night sky. Mom was the child in our family of 5, she still is. It was Mom, who like a fascinated child would ask a naive question like - ‘What lies beyond these stars?’. My sisters had & still have an aversion to the philosophical and were always the last to engage. It was then left to Mom & I to argue out our versions. Quite predictably, I approached the q...

Continued from ... Some marbles from an earlier game, Arjun had started, lay lazily inside the circle drawn for the game. In the background one child intently looked, while Arjun collected & cleared all the marbles in the circle, reminiscing at all the marbles he lost in the match that he had wrapped up with Arjun just prior to Arya reaching the game area. For both Arya & Arjun, the game of marbles was an important part of who they were. Cricket & other common games seemed too insignificant to their marble player identities. For them, the game required individual precision, which seemed a much more challenging task like the games of tennis or badminton. Although both were exceptionally technical players of cricket & football, here they had something more - an arch-rival, someone who they defined their identities around. Legends were drawn against their rivalry often. One legend says, Arya & Arjun kept at a match of marbles for 18 hours at a stretch, and yet no...

A wooden sword in hand, cape tied on, Arya woke up from a difficult night of sleep. He immediately knew what he had to do today, doubt evaded him. The glimmer in his eye could have inspired soldiers to win wars or dinosaurs to nuke the meteor that killed them. He felt as if he was born just today and with a singular purpose. His mother, with a glass of milk in hand, was his biggest obstacle now. He jumps to the left & then to the right, holding his cape & covering his face, his mother skips to stop him in his path each time. But alas, a mother’s persistence could beat acts of God to pulp, and he was but a mere child. He gives up and gets the glass of milk from her. Half a glass down and there is a knock on the door. It was Shabaaz, his comrade & closest friend, exactly the person he needed to win the war he woke up today to fight. Arya & Shabaaz have been friends since they were 4, rarely left each others side and as inseparable as Batman & his mask. ...

Will you still love me When I’m no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me When I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?  ~ Lana Del Ray, Soundtrack - The Great Gatsby ( Lyrics ) Think about someone you love, think about the precise moment you fell in love with them or realised how important they were to you. That moment of lucidity, when you knew there they are and nothing can take the moment away from you. We go through our lives rarely experiencing such moments of clarity & pure elation. A moment of childlike naivety & deeply ingrained sense of faith that things are just going to be perfect. A moment when judgement, the future and survival did not matter. Then you see children who live in a similar state of lucidity, a lways about constantly moving forward &  always in love - giving without reason, and getting attached without reason. And ...

Pretext: This poem is about the period of flux that our nation is experiencing today. A humble attempt at capturing the theatre of the yudhbhumi - a clean & strong India . This poem is dedicated to the indefatigable spirit of many of my friends, the volunteers of the Aam Aadmi Party & all my fellow Indians who seek a better India.  Sharpen your courage, strengthen your arms! There is a fire blazing – insatiable, unrelenting. Can you smell the fear - rats running amuck, snakes spewing venom! There is a throbbing in the air - an uprising is here. The ground beneath has broken. Pale in fear, There is a sullen horde, running for cover. Pale in fear, with pared strides – their quiver, our pride. When it started, a few men had the audacity - to question. Today we have the fist - to break bad. Time has come – now, we take back our nation! The water cannons, the guns, the lathis – could not stop An idea - whose time has come. An idea abo...

When was the last time something MAGICAL happened to you? ... The twinkling eyes of surprise, honest eagerness, the midnight oil, the elation of possession of something awaited or the presence of a loved one and all those little things that made everyday feel like a romance with life, are lost somewhere. These are for sure unromantic times! These are times when we fail to remember the last time we felt things were magical enough to make us feel reality as only a passing and that there is something greater and better. I wish I could be there on spring afternoons when eager children awaited the keeper to go off sight, to break into a protected mango orchard, armed with self-made catapults & stones. Mango trees with branches heavy of ripe fruit - a bright pleasant sight - struck free of their weight by the children who then devour the mangoes – a fresh yellow & green. My fervent heart fantasizes the times when love letters and stolen moments captured in poetry were treasured as m...

Oh blessed are thee, those hurt in love. Of journey’s done in the pursuit of happiness This be the noblest of them. ~ Arun Raj ~ Images from Krista - Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist

I danced until my heart cried Praying wings for my feet – they pained. Awaited now the flight. ~ Arun Raj ~

So blue my heart of the pain of love, That the red of my blood turns green In the envy of its displeasure ! ~ Arun Raj ~

I bathed in the light of a thousand candles. To yellow to white and to gas I turned. And now free of my body at last; I can fly beyond my human boundaries cast. ~ Arun Raj ~ March 16, 2010 Image Credits - Richard R Young

Some pictures of a past Long behind - stand out! Of friends, lovers & moments Set apart by time, captured in Pictures. A cup of tea, a shared smoke, A cake smudged across faces, T-shirts worn alike or the cheap hang-outs We spent time at - all shine clear now. Oh younger we were As babies, brothers, sisters and Trying Teenagers. Unbound, unfolding like an intense book. Tears find the corners of the eyes Like a puppy to its ball. An overwhelmed heart Pumps out emotions lost. The age of each picture evident In pecks of dust gathered, The crumbles on some And the tear on others. Our faces growing older The signs of age taking over. People in our arms changing But not the love we share. Some love of a past Long behind - comes back! Of friends, lovers & moments Set apart by time, captured in Pictures. ~ Pushku (Arun Raj), 17.08.2010 ~ Dedicated to Shiju, Jikku, Pappi, Jestin, Lisha, Ashi & Albert who know me best as 'Pushku' - Love you guys :)

I once knew a woman. Light as a feather she tread; Watching every stone underneath, As she took each step Lost in the delight Of watching her own steps take flight. I once waited for her On a busy street – eager. Around the corner I keep watching; A minute – a decade, and A second – a year, it feels, But time had lost its purpose. I once sat with her – listening keen; Of poets living from the pages Of books – worn, and words – animate. My time was now a machine; Tick-tock it did. But my heart – anew, Sang to me – ‘The beginning, the end is all here!’. I once sat to write a song about her. I strung a few words together, on a stray paper. And I wished they felt fit in her tribute. But they ran away – insecure! Into a jungle of memories; All they send back was – Special! I once sat with her across A table - uneasy between us! Something in her sent me fetching Each time I looked at her. As if my words eloped With her singing spirit. I once walked alongside her In loops around – as no end s...

Aakanksha Singh, 24/05/2010 It's raining marriages recently, 16th may Delhi records ~20K marriages, Mumbai was far ahead with ~50K wow! I wonder, if all these marriages are trademark heaven, how busy god might have been with the task of paring the perfect ones, because looking at the preparations here surely Earthians drill every nook and corner of the marriage commodities market. Away from the flashy lights, a peek into the groom-bride hunt is a tiring journey in the service class community. The search is dominated caste (to be understood), family status followed by right age, educational qualifications, job status and security, physical compatibilities of skin color to boy-girl height ratios etc etc - initial screen test passed. The next scene unfolds "meeting of the prospective couple", an affirmative nod implies background search of the boy (inquiring at work place to get a general ans). Merrily the families come together and propose the marriage budget. Common middle...

One too many light-years it felt but , A silent drought just gave way; To a burst of misplaced happiness! A wind blew under my feet, tickling My failing senses amuck with sensations I thought lost & past revival. To spread arms and seeking to embrace each breathing And non-breathing gift - God’s mischiefs, Wished a heart that took to steps of its own! An orchestra - Violins, Bass & grand Pianos, Leave their stern conductors, to take a stance With the flutes, clarinets & trumpets in tango. The percussion, to its soul notes played Free of their maestros, in a rhythm unheard; To match each splashing drop of the impulsive rain that begun. As the world around took to its random heart steps The Gods gift the sun-pleasured earth with A stray shower sparkling in tints of pink roses & tulips yellow. A stubborn bolt of lightning, finds its way Through a lazy dark cloud, to the middle; And skid haplessly in the acoustic trance of the percussion. Smitten and their workday un-mind, ...

As some wise people have said, ‘Friends are family you get to chose!” I can stand testimony to this and claim that some of my closest friends are as good as Family to me. And above this, a Woman as a friend tends to be more to both man or woman than just a passing commentator on what you should do and not do. They take up every role that can be thought of – as the cushions that support your fall, as a mother that cares for you, as a sister who stands by you no matter what & a friend that fights for you. These here are few Women whom I respect for their abilities to spread hope, love and yet stand unfazed through difficulties. Rupa Bidap – Counsel, Great Friend & Cynic Extraordinaire This irreverent petite lady packs quite a punch and can easily be passed on as irrelevant, but that is until she speaks her mind out. Her calculated irreverence has the strength to overwhelm any opponent that comes within her ring of fire. Making her the perfect person to set the sails of senses int...