Saturday, December 02, 2017
Ernest Hemingway
It was almost five decades ago,
Just before your 62nd birthday
That you played with your gun,
To write the end of your life.
Blessed with words by the muses,
You stood before their altar,
Writing and tearing out pages,
Till the best words did emerge.
Your life is a curious tale,
For every lover of your words,
Who wander upon your books,
Never to leave them again.
You did not wait for the fall,
To turn the green leaves yellow,
Only made the morning news flash,
With scattered bones and brains.
Your love for hills, the blue skies,
And words will remain forever.
Tribute
You'd a bag of tricks that could amaze all with a green thumb that could turn the ground you touched into fertile gardens. For the one much-awaited blessing of a child in life, you must have got more in recompense.
Your betel-stained mouth gave off a crooked smile when others showered praise on you but you looked only at the praise of nature that took the form of many-hued blossoms and buds.
Life was never smooth for you; your angst at not having a generation to follow created worry lines on your face. But death was smooth; you never even knew that there were many who cried and could not believe that you were gone forever.
Disbelief in the fact that the roses will bloom no longer in the way you could make it happen. For more than a green thumb, you'd certain ways of caring that took the form of gifts such as fresh roses and saplings.
It's a sad world that you left behind-your friends who have not slept nights and days and might burst out crying on seeing a rose for it was only in the end that you endeared yourself to others in a way that others can only envy.
Your betel-stained mouth gave off a crooked smile when others showered praise on you but you looked only at the praise of nature that took the form of many-hued blossoms and buds.
Life was never smooth for you; your angst at not having a generation to follow created worry lines on your face. But death was smooth; you never even knew that there were many who cried and could not believe that you were gone forever.
Disbelief in the fact that the roses will bloom no longer in the way you could make it happen. For more than a green thumb, you'd certain ways of caring that took the form of gifts such as fresh roses and saplings.
It's a sad world that you left behind-your friends who have not slept nights and days and might burst out crying on seeing a rose for it was only in the end that you endeared yourself to others in a way that others can only envy.
Iconoclast
You broke all rules around you to find a life of your own causing pain and hurt to those who loved you more than their own lives. But then in the years that came, you compromised your originality and rebellion for what others wanted you to do. If your life was written in rules throughout I wouldn’t have minded but you were wild and free and impish all your life.
When you listen to others and conform to their likes, somehow all your words feel hollow because beneath your strength you always carry that childish desire to please and to do nothing else. Why is that the common rules that others follow do not apply to either you or me? But it irks me when I listen to your speeches on how things should be or your concern about what others think about the minutest details of our lives. Don't you think that this habit of being foolishly brave and bravely foolish is your gift to me?
You have often told others of how wrong I am and how I have hurt you feeling that others who listen will sympathize with your plight. Whatever you may tell others and whatever others might tell me through their words and their behavior, this life will be just as it is- calm and secluded from the lies and manipulations of this cruel world.
When you listen to others and conform to their likes, somehow all your words feel hollow because beneath your strength you always carry that childish desire to please and to do nothing else. Why is that the common rules that others follow do not apply to either you or me? But it irks me when I listen to your speeches on how things should be or your concern about what others think about the minutest details of our lives. Don't you think that this habit of being foolishly brave and bravely foolish is your gift to me?
You have often told others of how wrong I am and how I have hurt you feeling that others who listen will sympathize with your plight. Whatever you may tell others and whatever others might tell me through their words and their behavior, this life will be just as it is- calm and secluded from the lies and manipulations of this cruel world.
Workspace
After almost ten days of break into the real world in the form of a writing workshop that made me quite chirpy and talkative, I am back to my writing space, where three unfinished projects lie waiting my perusal. These three have never been even once out of mind though they were out of sight all these days.
I find that I have difficulty starting my work. I'm confused as to what to do first. Do I need to motivate myself by reading some good self-help book? A lot of options flash in the mind. But the last thing I want to do is to check my mail and get distracted for the rest of the day.
Finally, I decide to write the indecision by writing down my inability to start my work. Hope it helps.
I find that I have difficulty starting my work. I'm confused as to what to do first. Do I need to motivate myself by reading some good self-help book? A lot of options flash in the mind. But the last thing I want to do is to check my mail and get distracted for the rest of the day.
Finally, I decide to write the indecision by writing down my inability to start my work. Hope it helps.
Seeds
You were always fond of flowers and one of my daydreams revolved around you taking interest in my beautiful garden that had roses at that time. Now the dream is gone; so are the roses. In a totally different terrain, I try planting seeds of hope; but everyday they are dried by the scorching sun and the cruel winds of habit. This dream will never be, I have discovered in these months of despair, when each seed of hope have brought more tears and more waiting.
Unsolicited advice
It' s a bright day. You are doing your work humming a favourite song. Suddenly you get a call or meet someone who wearies you with a long sermon on this-is-how-things-should-be-done or how-things-were-done-in my day.
You want to mutter a thanks and ask this person to make this into a career by starting a counselling centre. But suddenly remember that counselling requires good listening skills and bite your tongue while putting that smiling face back again.
After a while you feel like your entire happiness has been destroyed by some natural calamity: unsolicited advice. The rest of the day is spent in finding to evade the person or how to contradict the advice.
The worst calamity is listening to unsolicited advice from people who have absolutely no idea about your dreams or the subject matter. Does it help to humour these pestering calamities? I don’t know but I'm helpless when I meet such bores.
I guess there are times when learning is enhanced if a person of experience meets a humble learner. But it applies only to cases when the learner has interest in the subject and is ready to take criticism from the teacher.
Most people who provide such advice ignore the creative powers that are inherent in each and every human being. They do not understand the fact that more than following great examples, every person can come up with original ideas and solutions to problems.
Looking back on the past or looking up to some great person means that you do not trust the creativity of the moment or the work. It's good to have role-models; but mere idolatry is a crime against the pure magic of human thought.
You want to mutter a thanks and ask this person to make this into a career by starting a counselling centre. But suddenly remember that counselling requires good listening skills and bite your tongue while putting that smiling face back again.
After a while you feel like your entire happiness has been destroyed by some natural calamity: unsolicited advice. The rest of the day is spent in finding to evade the person or how to contradict the advice.
The worst calamity is listening to unsolicited advice from people who have absolutely no idea about your dreams or the subject matter. Does it help to humour these pestering calamities? I don’t know but I'm helpless when I meet such bores.
I guess there are times when learning is enhanced if a person of experience meets a humble learner. But it applies only to cases when the learner has interest in the subject and is ready to take criticism from the teacher.
Most people who provide such advice ignore the creative powers that are inherent in each and every human being. They do not understand the fact that more than following great examples, every person can come up with original ideas and solutions to problems.
Looking back on the past or looking up to some great person means that you do not trust the creativity of the moment or the work. It's good to have role-models; but mere idolatry is a crime against the pure magic of human thought.
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