Things They Don't Tell You
Monday, November 28, 2011
WHY I KILLED GANDHI ??? - NATHURAM GODSE’S FINAL ADDRESS TO THE COURT
WHY I KILLED GANDHI ??? - NATHURAM GODSE’S STATEMENT IN THE COURT
Nathuram Godse was arrested immediately after he assassinated Gandhiji, based on a F. I. R. filed by Nandlal Mehta at the Tughlak Road Police staton at Delhi . The trial, which was held in camera, began on May 27, 1948 and concluded on February 10, 1949. He was sentenced to death.
An appeal to the Punjab High Court, then in session at Simla, did not find favour and the sentence was upheld. The statement that you are about to read is the last made by Godse before the Court on the May 5, 1949.
Such was the power and eloquence of this statement that one of the judges, G. D. Khosla, later wrote, “I have, however, no doubt that had the audience of that day been constituted into a jury and entrusted with the task of deciding Godse’s appeal, they would have brought a verdict of ‘not Guilty’ by an overwhelming majority”
Born in a devotional Brahmin family, I instinctively came to revere Hindu religion, Hindu history and Hindu culture. I had, therefore, been intensely proud of Hinduism as a whole. As I grew up, I developed a tendency to free thinking unfettered by any superstitious allegiance to any isms, political or religious. That is why I worked actively for the eradication of untouchability and the caste system based on birth alone. I openly joined anti-caste movements and maintained that all Hindus were of equal status as to rights, social and religious and should be considered high or low on merit alone and not through the accident of birth in a particular caste or profession. I used publicly to take part in organized anti-caste dinners in which thousands of Hindus, Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaisyas, Chamars and Bhangis participated. We broke the caste rules and dined in the company of each other. I have read the speeches and writings of Dadabhai Nairoji, Vivekanand, Gokhale, Tilak, along with the books of ancient and modern history of India and some prominent countries like England, France, America and’ Russia. Moreover, I studied the tenets of Socialism and Marxism. But above all I studied very closely whatever Veer Savarkar and Gandhiji had written and spoken, as to my mind these two ideologies have contributed more to the moulding of the thought and action of the Indian people during the last thirty years or so, than any other single factor has done.
All this reading and thinking led me to believe it was my first duty to serve Hindudom and Hindus both as a patriot and as a world citizen. To secure the freedom and to safeguard the just interests of some thirty crores (300 million) of Hindus would automatically constitute the freedom and the well-being of all India, one fifth of human race. This conviction led me naturally to devote myself to the Hindu Sanghtanist ideology and programme, which alone, I came to believe, could win and preserve the national independence of Hindustan, my Motherland, and enable her to render true service to humanity as well.
Since the year 1920, that is, after the demise of Lokamanya Tilak, Gandhiji’s influence in the Congress first increased and then became supreme. His activities for public awakening were phenomenal in their intensity and were reinforced by the slogan of truth and non-violence, which he paraded ostentatiously before the country. No sensible or enlightened person could object to those slogans. In fact, there is nothing new or original in them. They are implicit in every constitutional public movement. But it is nothing but a mere dream if you imagine that the bulk of mankind is, or can ever become, capable of scrupulous adherence to these lofty principles in its normal life from day to day. In fact, honour, duty and love of one’s own kith and kin and country might often compel us to disregard non-violence and to use force. I could never conceive that an armed resistance to an aggression is unjust. I would consider it a religious and moral duty to resist and, if possible, to overpower such an enemy by use of force. [In the Ramayana] Rama killed Ravana in a tumultuous fight and relieved Sita. [In the Mahabharata], Krishna killed Kansa to end his wickedness; and Arjuna had to fight and slay quite a number of his friends and relations including the revered Bhishma because the latter was on the side of the aggressor. It is my firm belief that in dubbing Rama, Krishna and Arjuna as guilty of violence, the Mahatma betrayed a total ignorance of the springs of human action.
In more recent history, it was the heroic fight put up by Chhatrapati Shivaji that first checked and eventually destroyed the Muslim tyranny in India. It was absolutely essentially for Shivaji to overpower and kill an aggressive Afzal Khan, failing which he would have lost his own life. In condemning history’s towering warriors like Shivaji, Rana Pratap and Guru Gobind Singh as misguided patriots, Gandhiji has merely exposed his self-conceit. He was, paradoxical, as it may appear, a violent pacifist who brought untold calamities on the country in the name of truth and non-violence, while Rana Pratap, Shivaji and the Guru will remain enshrined in the hearts of their countrymen forever for the freedom they brought to them.
The accumulating provocation of thirty-two years, culminating in his last pro-Muslim fast, at last goaded me to the conclusion that the existence of Gandhi should be brought to an end immediately. Gandhi had done very well in South Africa to uphold the rights and well-being of the Indian community there. But when he finally returned to India he developed a subjective mentality under which he alone was to be the final judge of what was right or wrong. If the country wanted his leadership, it had to accept his infallibility; if it did not, he would stand aloof from the Congress and carry on his own way. Against such an attitude there can be no halfway house. Either Congress had to surrender its will to his and had to be content with playing second fiddle to all his eccentricity, whimsicality, metaphysics and primitive vision, or it had to carry on without him. He alone was the Judge of everyone and everything; he was the master brain guiding the civil disobedience movement; no other could know the technique of that movement. He alone knew when to begin and when to withdraw it. The movement might succeed or fail, it might bring untold disaster and political reverses but that could make no difference to the Mahatma’s infallibility. ‘A Satyagrahi can never fail’ was his formula for declaring his own infallibility and nobody except himself knew what a Satyagrahi is.
Thus, the Mahatma became the judge and jury in his own cause. These childish insanities and obstinacies, coupled with a most severe austerity of life, ceaseless work and lofty character made Gandhi formidable and irresistible. Many people thought that his politics were irrational but they had either to withdraw from the Congress or place their intelligence at his feet to do with, as he liked. In a position of such absolute irresponsibility, Gandhi was guilty of blunder after blunder, failure after failure, disaster after disaster.
Gandhi’s pro-Muslim policy is blatantly in his perverse attitude on the question of the national language of India. It is quite obvious that Hindi has the most prior claim to be accepted as the premier language. In the beginning of his career in India, Gandhi gave a great impetus to Hindi but as he found that the Muslims did not like it, he became a champion of what is called Hindustani. Everybody in India knows that there is no language called Hindustani; it has no grammar; it has no vocabulary. It is a mere dialect; it is spoken, but not written. It is a bastard tongue and crossbreed between Hindi and Urdu, and not even the Mahatma’s sophistry could make it popular. But in his desire to please the Muslims he insisted that Hindustani alone should be the national language of India. His blind followers, of course, supported him and the so-called hybrid language began to be used. The charm and purity of the Hindi language was to be prostituted to please the Muslims. All his experiments were at the expense of the Hindus.
From August 1946, onwards the private armies of the Muslim League began a massacre of the Hindus. The then Viceroy, Lord Wavell, though distressed at what was happening, would not use his powers under the Government of India Act of 1935 to prevent the rape, murder and arson. The Hindu blood began to flow from Bengal to Karachi with some retaliation by the Hindus. The Interim Government formed in September was sabotaged by its Muslim League member’s right from its inception, but the more they became disloyal and treasonable to the government of which they were a part, the greater was Gandhi’s infatuation for them. Lord Wavell had to resign as he could not bring about a settlement and he was succeeded by Lord Mountbatten. King Log was followed by King Stork.
The Congress, which had boasted of its nationalism and socialism, secretly accepted Pakistan literally at the point of the bayonet and abjectly surrendered to Jinnah. India was vivisected and one-third of the Indian Territory became foreign land to us from August 15, 1947. Lord Mountbatten came to be described in Congress circles as the greatest Viceroy and Governor-General this country ever had. The official date for handing over power was fixed for June 30, 1948, but Mountbatten with his ruthless surgery gave us a gift of vivisected India ten months in advance. This is what Gandhi had achieved after thirty years of undisputed dictatorship and this is what Congress party calls ‘freedom’ and ‘peaceful transfer of power’. The Hindu-Muslim unity bubble was finally burst and a theocratic state was established with the consent of Nehru and his crowd and they have called ‘freedom won by them with sacrifice’ – whose sacrifice? When top leaders of Congress, with the consent of Gandhi, divided and tore the country – which we consider a deity of worship – my mind was filled with direful anger.
One of the conditions imposed by Gandhi for his breaking of the fast unto death related to the mosques in Delhi occupied by the Hindu refugees. But when Hindus in Pakistan were subjected to violent attacks he did not so much as utter a single word to protest and censure the Pakistan Government or the Muslims concerned. Gandhi was shrewd enough to know that while undertaking a fast unto death, had he imposed for its break some condition on the Muslims in Pakistan, there would have been found hardly any Muslims who could have shown some grief if the fast had ended in his death. It was for this reason that he purposely avoided imposing any condition on the Muslims. He was fully aware of from the experience that Jinnah was not at all perturbed or influenced by his fast and the Muslim League hardly attached any value to the inner voice of Gandhi.
Gandhi is being referred to as the Father of the Nation. But if that is so, he had failed his paternal duty inasmuch as he has acted very treacherously to the nation by his consenting to the partitioning of it. I stoutly maintain that Gandhi has failed in his duty. He has proved to be the Father of Pakistan. His inner-voice, his spiritual power and his doctrine of non-violence of which so much is made of, all crumbled before Jinnah’s iron will and proved to be powerless.
Briefly speaking, I thought to myself and foresaw I shall be totally ruined, and the only thing I could expect from the people would be nothing but hatred and that I shall have lost all my honour, even more valuable than my life, if I were to kill Gandhiji. But at the same time I felt that the Indian politics in the absence of Gandhiji would surely be proved practical, able to retaliate, and would be powerful with armed forces. No doubt, my own future would be totally ruined, but the nation would be saved from the inroads of Pakistan. People may even call me and dub me as devoid of any sense or foolish, but the nation would be free to follow the course founded on the reason which I consider to be necessary for sound nation-building. After having fully considered the question, I took the final decision in the matter, but I did not speak about it to anyone whatsoever. I took courage in both my hands and I did fire the shots at Gandhiji on 30 January 1948, on the prayer-grounds of Birla House.
I do say that my shots were fired at the person whose policy and action had brought rack, ruin, and destruction to millions of Hindus. There was no legal machinery by which such an offender could be brought to book and for this reason, I fired those fatal shots.
I bear no ill will towards anyone individually but I do say that I had no respect for the present government owing to their policy, which was unfairly favourable towards the Muslims. But at the same time I could clearly see that the policy was entirely due to the presence of Gandhi. I have to say with great regret that Prime Minister Nehru quite forgets that his preachings and deeds are at times at variances with each other when he talks about India as a secular state in season and out of season, because it is significant to note that Nehru has played a leading role in the establishment of the theocratic state of Pakistan, and his job was made easier by Gandhi’s persistent policy of appeasement towards the Muslims.
I now stand before the court to accept the full share of my responsibility for what I have done and the judge would, of course, pass against me such orders of sentence as may be considered proper. But I would like to add that I do not desire any mercy to be shown to me, nor do I wish that anyone else should beg for mercy on my behalf. My confidence about the moral side of my action has not been shaken even by the criticism levelled against it on all sides. I have no doubt that honest writers of history will weigh my act and find the true value thereof some day in future.
-NATHURAM GODSE
Gandhiji’s assassin, Nathuram Godse’s Final Address to the Court.
 |
| Nathuram Godse right after he shot Mahatma Gandhi |
Nathuram Godse was arrested immediately after he assassinated Gandhiji, based on a F. I. R. filed by Nandlal Mehta at the Tughlak Road Police staton at Delhi . The trial, which was held in camera, began on May 27, 1948 and concluded on February 10, 1949. He was sentenced to death.
An appeal to the Punjab High Court, then in session at Simla, did not find favour and the sentence was upheld. The statement that you are about to read is the last made by Godse before the Court on the May 5, 1949.
Such was the power and eloquence of this statement that one of the judges, G. D. Khosla, later wrote, “I have, however, no doubt that had the audience of that day been constituted into a jury and entrusted with the task of deciding Godse’s appeal, they would have brought a verdict of ‘not Guilty’ by an overwhelming majority”
WHY I KILLED GANDHI
Born in a devotional Brahmin family, I instinctively came to revere Hindu religion, Hindu history and Hindu culture. I had, therefore, been intensely proud of Hinduism as a whole. As I grew up, I developed a tendency to free thinking unfettered by any superstitious allegiance to any isms, political or religious. That is why I worked actively for the eradication of untouchability and the caste system based on birth alone. I openly joined anti-caste movements and maintained that all Hindus were of equal status as to rights, social and religious and should be considered high or low on merit alone and not through the accident of birth in a particular caste or profession. I used publicly to take part in organized anti-caste dinners in which thousands of Hindus, Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaisyas, Chamars and Bhangis participated. We broke the caste rules and dined in the company of each other. I have read the speeches and writings of Dadabhai Nairoji, Vivekanand, Gokhale, Tilak, along with the books of ancient and modern history of India and some prominent countries like England, France, America and’ Russia. Moreover, I studied the tenets of Socialism and Marxism. But above all I studied very closely whatever Veer Savarkar and Gandhiji had written and spoken, as to my mind these two ideologies have contributed more to the moulding of the thought and action of the Indian people during the last thirty years or so, than any other single factor has done.
All this reading and thinking led me to believe it was my first duty to serve Hindudom and Hindus both as a patriot and as a world citizen. To secure the freedom and to safeguard the just interests of some thirty crores (300 million) of Hindus would automatically constitute the freedom and the well-being of all India, one fifth of human race. This conviction led me naturally to devote myself to the Hindu Sanghtanist ideology and programme, which alone, I came to believe, could win and preserve the national independence of Hindustan, my Motherland, and enable her to render true service to humanity as well.
Since the year 1920, that is, after the demise of Lokamanya Tilak, Gandhiji’s influence in the Congress first increased and then became supreme. His activities for public awakening were phenomenal in their intensity and were reinforced by the slogan of truth and non-violence, which he paraded ostentatiously before the country. No sensible or enlightened person could object to those slogans. In fact, there is nothing new or original in them. They are implicit in every constitutional public movement. But it is nothing but a mere dream if you imagine that the bulk of mankind is, or can ever become, capable of scrupulous adherence to these lofty principles in its normal life from day to day. In fact, honour, duty and love of one’s own kith and kin and country might often compel us to disregard non-violence and to use force. I could never conceive that an armed resistance to an aggression is unjust. I would consider it a religious and moral duty to resist and, if possible, to overpower such an enemy by use of force. [In the Ramayana] Rama killed Ravana in a tumultuous fight and relieved Sita. [In the Mahabharata], Krishna killed Kansa to end his wickedness; and Arjuna had to fight and slay quite a number of his friends and relations including the revered Bhishma because the latter was on the side of the aggressor. It is my firm belief that in dubbing Rama, Krishna and Arjuna as guilty of violence, the Mahatma betrayed a total ignorance of the springs of human action.
In more recent history, it was the heroic fight put up by Chhatrapati Shivaji that first checked and eventually destroyed the Muslim tyranny in India. It was absolutely essentially for Shivaji to overpower and kill an aggressive Afzal Khan, failing which he would have lost his own life. In condemning history’s towering warriors like Shivaji, Rana Pratap and Guru Gobind Singh as misguided patriots, Gandhiji has merely exposed his self-conceit. He was, paradoxical, as it may appear, a violent pacifist who brought untold calamities on the country in the name of truth and non-violence, while Rana Pratap, Shivaji and the Guru will remain enshrined in the hearts of their countrymen forever for the freedom they brought to them.
The accumulating provocation of thirty-two years, culminating in his last pro-Muslim fast, at last goaded me to the conclusion that the existence of Gandhi should be brought to an end immediately. Gandhi had done very well in South Africa to uphold the rights and well-being of the Indian community there. But when he finally returned to India he developed a subjective mentality under which he alone was to be the final judge of what was right or wrong. If the country wanted his leadership, it had to accept his infallibility; if it did not, he would stand aloof from the Congress and carry on his own way. Against such an attitude there can be no halfway house. Either Congress had to surrender its will to his and had to be content with playing second fiddle to all his eccentricity, whimsicality, metaphysics and primitive vision, or it had to carry on without him. He alone was the Judge of everyone and everything; he was the master brain guiding the civil disobedience movement; no other could know the technique of that movement. He alone knew when to begin and when to withdraw it. The movement might succeed or fail, it might bring untold disaster and political reverses but that could make no difference to the Mahatma’s infallibility. ‘A Satyagrahi can never fail’ was his formula for declaring his own infallibility and nobody except himself knew what a Satyagrahi is.
Thus, the Mahatma became the judge and jury in his own cause. These childish insanities and obstinacies, coupled with a most severe austerity of life, ceaseless work and lofty character made Gandhi formidable and irresistible. Many people thought that his politics were irrational but they had either to withdraw from the Congress or place their intelligence at his feet to do with, as he liked. In a position of such absolute irresponsibility, Gandhi was guilty of blunder after blunder, failure after failure, disaster after disaster.
Gandhi’s pro-Muslim policy is blatantly in his perverse attitude on the question of the national language of India. It is quite obvious that Hindi has the most prior claim to be accepted as the premier language. In the beginning of his career in India, Gandhi gave a great impetus to Hindi but as he found that the Muslims did not like it, he became a champion of what is called Hindustani. Everybody in India knows that there is no language called Hindustani; it has no grammar; it has no vocabulary. It is a mere dialect; it is spoken, but not written. It is a bastard tongue and crossbreed between Hindi and Urdu, and not even the Mahatma’s sophistry could make it popular. But in his desire to please the Muslims he insisted that Hindustani alone should be the national language of India. His blind followers, of course, supported him and the so-called hybrid language began to be used. The charm and purity of the Hindi language was to be prostituted to please the Muslims. All his experiments were at the expense of the Hindus.
From August 1946, onwards the private armies of the Muslim League began a massacre of the Hindus. The then Viceroy, Lord Wavell, though distressed at what was happening, would not use his powers under the Government of India Act of 1935 to prevent the rape, murder and arson. The Hindu blood began to flow from Bengal to Karachi with some retaliation by the Hindus. The Interim Government formed in September was sabotaged by its Muslim League member’s right from its inception, but the more they became disloyal and treasonable to the government of which they were a part, the greater was Gandhi’s infatuation for them. Lord Wavell had to resign as he could not bring about a settlement and he was succeeded by Lord Mountbatten. King Log was followed by King Stork.
The Congress, which had boasted of its nationalism and socialism, secretly accepted Pakistan literally at the point of the bayonet and abjectly surrendered to Jinnah. India was vivisected and one-third of the Indian Territory became foreign land to us from August 15, 1947. Lord Mountbatten came to be described in Congress circles as the greatest Viceroy and Governor-General this country ever had. The official date for handing over power was fixed for June 30, 1948, but Mountbatten with his ruthless surgery gave us a gift of vivisected India ten months in advance. This is what Gandhi had achieved after thirty years of undisputed dictatorship and this is what Congress party calls ‘freedom’ and ‘peaceful transfer of power’. The Hindu-Muslim unity bubble was finally burst and a theocratic state was established with the consent of Nehru and his crowd and they have called ‘freedom won by them with sacrifice’ – whose sacrifice? When top leaders of Congress, with the consent of Gandhi, divided and tore the country – which we consider a deity of worship – my mind was filled with direful anger.
One of the conditions imposed by Gandhi for his breaking of the fast unto death related to the mosques in Delhi occupied by the Hindu refugees. But when Hindus in Pakistan were subjected to violent attacks he did not so much as utter a single word to protest and censure the Pakistan Government or the Muslims concerned. Gandhi was shrewd enough to know that while undertaking a fast unto death, had he imposed for its break some condition on the Muslims in Pakistan, there would have been found hardly any Muslims who could have shown some grief if the fast had ended in his death. It was for this reason that he purposely avoided imposing any condition on the Muslims. He was fully aware of from the experience that Jinnah was not at all perturbed or influenced by his fast and the Muslim League hardly attached any value to the inner voice of Gandhi.
Gandhi is being referred to as the Father of the Nation. But if that is so, he had failed his paternal duty inasmuch as he has acted very treacherously to the nation by his consenting to the partitioning of it. I stoutly maintain that Gandhi has failed in his duty. He has proved to be the Father of Pakistan. His inner-voice, his spiritual power and his doctrine of non-violence of which so much is made of, all crumbled before Jinnah’s iron will and proved to be powerless.
Briefly speaking, I thought to myself and foresaw I shall be totally ruined, and the only thing I could expect from the people would be nothing but hatred and that I shall have lost all my honour, even more valuable than my life, if I were to kill Gandhiji. But at the same time I felt that the Indian politics in the absence of Gandhiji would surely be proved practical, able to retaliate, and would be powerful with armed forces. No doubt, my own future would be totally ruined, but the nation would be saved from the inroads of Pakistan. People may even call me and dub me as devoid of any sense or foolish, but the nation would be free to follow the course founded on the reason which I consider to be necessary for sound nation-building. After having fully considered the question, I took the final decision in the matter, but I did not speak about it to anyone whatsoever. I took courage in both my hands and I did fire the shots at Gandhiji on 30 January 1948, on the prayer-grounds of Birla House.
I do say that my shots were fired at the person whose policy and action had brought rack, ruin, and destruction to millions of Hindus. There was no legal machinery by which such an offender could be brought to book and for this reason, I fired those fatal shots.
I bear no ill will towards anyone individually but I do say that I had no respect for the present government owing to their policy, which was unfairly favourable towards the Muslims. But at the same time I could clearly see that the policy was entirely due to the presence of Gandhi. I have to say with great regret that Prime Minister Nehru quite forgets that his preachings and deeds are at times at variances with each other when he talks about India as a secular state in season and out of season, because it is significant to note that Nehru has played a leading role in the establishment of the theocratic state of Pakistan, and his job was made easier by Gandhi’s persistent policy of appeasement towards the Muslims.
I now stand before the court to accept the full share of my responsibility for what I have done and the judge would, of course, pass against me such orders of sentence as may be considered proper. But I would like to add that I do not desire any mercy to be shown to me, nor do I wish that anyone else should beg for mercy on my behalf. My confidence about the moral side of my action has not been shaken even by the criticism levelled against it on all sides. I have no doubt that honest writers of history will weigh my act and find the true value thereof some day in future.
-NATHURAM GODSE
Men and anger .....
Is anger a man thing?Increasingly, we hear incidents of road rage, physical abuse or destruction of objects as commonly witnessed expressions of angry men. The big question is: Are men more prone to violence? Historically, all warriors have been male. Most interpersonal violent crimes have been done by men. Statistics reveal that 90 per cent of murderers and 82 per cent of other violent criminals are male.
" Anger is a burst of emotions."
Scratch the surface of some suave, sophisticated guys and you see seething, simmering discomfort and anger. The masculine features — heavy brows and an angular face — overlap with an angry expression. Analyses a corporate executive, "It's our own insecurities that drive us to aggression and violence. If a man is comfortable with his wife's achievements, then he won't feel insecure. But various things play in his mind... if she has meetings after 6 pm, then it isn't considered legitimate, whereas it's fine for him to work beyond working hours."
More surprising, perhaps, is new research suggesting that the connection between men and anger and women and happiness goes deeper than these simple social stereotypes, regardless of how valid they are.Some psychologists believe, an angry man is one of the most dangerous characters around. Harvard University reports says that women are less afflicted than men by overconfidence, or the delusion that they know more than they really do.
In the words of Anupam Kher, "A man grows up thinking he is better off than the fairer sex. His parents flaunt it if he has many girlfriends. Men also have fewer outlets for their anger. They don't share what's on their mind and rarely cry, which comes out in form of anger or violence. Things like personal inadequacy, job dissatisfaction all add up to that. Men are supposed to be the head of the family. If anything goes wrong, it makes them feel frustrated. The otherwise sophisticated, polished men are often spotted engaged in road rage incidents."
There can be many trigger points in a normal day — a bad morning, a day not going as planned, your child not listening to you, missing a flight, a difficult boss, etc. Or perhaps, one is not on top on the personal or professional front. That can make you disgruntled and upset. And yes, men do lose their temper more often than women. Women are calmer and better with handling sticky situations.
But anger isn't a macho thing anymore. Upto a level where 10 million adult men in the United States are so angry, they're ill. In fact, their disease has a name: intermittent explosive disorder, or IED. Few people see psychiatrists because they can't control their tempers. "Men are encouraged to express their emotions, even anger, while women are told to hide negative emotions. Men play with guns and girls with dolls. Scientifically, men are more violent. Rape isn't a sexual act, it's about demeaning the other person and showing aggression."
In fact, men seem to embrace their anger and use it to their advantage whereas women view anger as counter-productive.Men can be barbaric when it comes to losing their temper. They believe in shortcuts, banging someone and having their way. They also know they are the physically stronger sex and don't hide that emotion at all. They believe less in talking and more in being tough.
Testosterone levels are high and men just can't keep cool under duress. Anger is instinctive. However, an act of anger may be more a sign of weakness than a display of strength!
source : TOI , Times Life
P.S. This is not intended to hurt anybody's feelings. Posted in good faith and good spirit.
" Anger is a burst of emotions."
Scratch the surface of some suave, sophisticated guys and you see seething, simmering discomfort and anger. The masculine features — heavy brows and an angular face — overlap with an angry expression. Analyses a corporate executive, "It's our own insecurities that drive us to aggression and violence. If a man is comfortable with his wife's achievements, then he won't feel insecure. But various things play in his mind... if she has meetings after 6 pm, then it isn't considered legitimate, whereas it's fine for him to work beyond working hours."
More surprising, perhaps, is new research suggesting that the connection between men and anger and women and happiness goes deeper than these simple social stereotypes, regardless of how valid they are.Some psychologists believe, an angry man is one of the most dangerous characters around. Harvard University reports says that women are less afflicted than men by overconfidence, or the delusion that they know more than they really do.
In the words of Anupam Kher, "A man grows up thinking he is better off than the fairer sex. His parents flaunt it if he has many girlfriends. Men also have fewer outlets for their anger. They don't share what's on their mind and rarely cry, which comes out in form of anger or violence. Things like personal inadequacy, job dissatisfaction all add up to that. Men are supposed to be the head of the family. If anything goes wrong, it makes them feel frustrated. The otherwise sophisticated, polished men are often spotted engaged in road rage incidents."
There can be many trigger points in a normal day — a bad morning, a day not going as planned, your child not listening to you, missing a flight, a difficult boss, etc. Or perhaps, one is not on top on the personal or professional front. That can make you disgruntled and upset. And yes, men do lose their temper more often than women. Women are calmer and better with handling sticky situations.
But anger isn't a macho thing anymore. Upto a level where 10 million adult men in the United States are so angry, they're ill. In fact, their disease has a name: intermittent explosive disorder, or IED. Few people see psychiatrists because they can't control their tempers. "Men are encouraged to express their emotions, even anger, while women are told to hide negative emotions. Men play with guns and girls with dolls. Scientifically, men are more violent. Rape isn't a sexual act, it's about demeaning the other person and showing aggression."
In fact, men seem to embrace their anger and use it to their advantage whereas women view anger as counter-productive.Men can be barbaric when it comes to losing their temper. They believe in shortcuts, banging someone and having their way. They also know they are the physically stronger sex and don't hide that emotion at all. They believe less in talking and more in being tough.
Testosterone levels are high and men just can't keep cool under duress. Anger is instinctive. However, an act of anger may be more a sign of weakness than a display of strength!
source : TOI , Times Life
P.S. This is not intended to hurt anybody's feelings. Posted in good faith and good spirit.
Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
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Adrian Tan, author of The Teenage Textbook (1988), was the guest-of-honour at a recent NTU, Singapore, convocation ceremony. This was his speech to the graduating class of 2008.
-----
I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.
My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.
On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.
Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.
And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.
Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.
The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.
You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.
The good news is that they’re wrong.
The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.
I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.
You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.
Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.
So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.
Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.
I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.
After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.
Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.
That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.
If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.
What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.
Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.
What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.
Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.
The most important is this: do not work.
Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.
Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.
There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.
People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.
Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.
Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.
I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.
So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.
Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.
Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.
In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.
I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.
It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.
One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.
The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.
I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.
Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.
Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.
Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.
You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.
Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.
Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
Adrian Tan, author of The Teenage Textbook (1988), was the guest-of-honour at a recent NTU, Singapore, convocation ceremony. This was his speech to the graduating class of 2008.
-----
I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.
My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.
On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.
Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.
And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.
Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.
The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.
You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.
The good news is that they’re wrong.
The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.
I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.
You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.
Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.
So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.
Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.
I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.
After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.
Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.
That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.
If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.
What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.
Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.
What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.
Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.
The most important is this: do not work.
Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.
Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.
There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.
People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.
Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.
Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.
I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.
So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.
Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.
Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.
In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.
I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.
It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.
One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.
The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.
I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.
Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.
Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.
Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.
You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.
Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.
Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
India @ 64
India@64
To me, India at 64 is a country which is still very insecure. Success here is defined by a plush job with a multinational, or if you have aced your CET / JEE / CAT. Right from school, we’ve always been taught to follow the system, and to be very afraid of going against it.
With the advent of the internet it’s become easier than ever to do exactly what you want. But our upbringing has instilled in us such a strong sense of fear that few of us dare to venture out on our own. Most entrepreneurs here are seasoned professionals, having worked for a good 4-5 years for someone else. There are no college dropouts like Zuckerberg or Gates, and you’re treated like an outcast if you even dream of doing so. Our generation talks like the American, acts like him, but when it comes down to actually doing what they want, most turn into pussies. We can’t boast of 18-year-old inventors, or 24-year-old billionaires. In fact, even now when I go to meet potential investors, the first question we are asked is, “How old are you?” In spite of the fact that there is a 25-year-old guy who started Facebook when he was 18, and is now worth 13 billion dollars in personal wealth.
Things are changing no doubt, but in remote pockets. What needs to be changed is the way we are brought up. I believe that this country will grow up the day our kids are taught not to be scared. The day the students of this country are encouraged to learn, and not ‘mug’. The day we are taught to lead, and not follow. The day we are taught to think, and not just write exams. I wait to see that day, because when that happens, India won’t be entering retirement age, but will actually be born again.
"We will be waiting for you, India."
To me, India at 64 is a country which is still very insecure. Success here is defined by a plush job with a multinational, or if you have aced your CET / JEE / CAT. Right from school, we’ve always been taught to follow the system, and to be very afraid of going against it.
With the advent of the internet it’s become easier than ever to do exactly what you want. But our upbringing has instilled in us such a strong sense of fear that few of us dare to venture out on our own. Most entrepreneurs here are seasoned professionals, having worked for a good 4-5 years for someone else. There are no college dropouts like Zuckerberg or Gates, and you’re treated like an outcast if you even dream of doing so. Our generation talks like the American, acts like him, but when it comes down to actually doing what they want, most turn into pussies. We can’t boast of 18-year-old inventors, or 24-year-old billionaires. In fact, even now when I go to meet potential investors, the first question we are asked is, “How old are you?” In spite of the fact that there is a 25-year-old guy who started Facebook when he was 18, and is now worth 13 billion dollars in personal wealth.
Things are changing no doubt, but in remote pockets. What needs to be changed is the way we are brought up. I believe that this country will grow up the day our kids are taught not to be scared. The day the students of this country are encouraged to learn, and not ‘mug’. The day we are taught to lead, and not follow. The day we are taught to think, and not just write exams. I wait to see that day, because when that happens, India won’t be entering retirement age, but will actually be born again.
"We will be waiting for you, India."
Mumbai
"If there's a colour that defines Mumbai, it's grey. Glimpse it from the air in the daytime and you'll see a grey coastline and a grey ocean. As you touch down, you'll note the concrete and chrome towers, the shanty towns, the creeks and the roads - all grey.
But don't be fooled into believing the grey signifies dullness. On the contrary, the monochrome is the perfect foil to the city's colourful character.
From the delicate pink flamingoes that visit the Sewri mud flats in the first half of the year to the fuchsia of a Bollywood actress's garb. The sandstone colonial buildings to the blazing red flame-of-the-forest blooms. The haphazard, honking traffic to the precision of commuter trains and lunch-delivering dabbawallahs. The plushest of hotels to the most rickety of hovels. From the cosmopolitan cacophony of dialects to the rich notes of a single musical instrument at the National Centre for Performing Arts. The fanfare of the Ganesha festival to the soft prayers in the Parsi fire temples. From hungry leopards spilling out of the Borivali National Park to much-loved stray dogs. From a slow-cooked biryani to a speedily crafted vada pao. From the single bulbs of the tiny fishing boats that go out to sea in the wee hours to the flashing strobelights of the nightclubs.
To savour every part of the city, you'd have to live in Mumbai for many lifetimes. But to get a glimpse into its soul, you only need a few days and an open mind."
But don't be fooled into believing the grey signifies dullness. On the contrary, the monochrome is the perfect foil to the city's colourful character.
From the delicate pink flamingoes that visit the Sewri mud flats in the first half of the year to the fuchsia of a Bollywood actress's garb. The sandstone colonial buildings to the blazing red flame-of-the-forest blooms. The haphazard, honking traffic to the precision of commuter trains and lunch-delivering dabbawallahs. The plushest of hotels to the most rickety of hovels. From the cosmopolitan cacophony of dialects to the rich notes of a single musical instrument at the National Centre for Performing Arts. The fanfare of the Ganesha festival to the soft prayers in the Parsi fire temples. From hungry leopards spilling out of the Borivali National Park to much-loved stray dogs. From a slow-cooked biryani to a speedily crafted vada pao. From the single bulbs of the tiny fishing boats that go out to sea in the wee hours to the flashing strobelights of the nightclubs.
To savour every part of the city, you'd have to live in Mumbai for many lifetimes. But to get a glimpse into its soul, you only need a few days and an open mind."
Friday, November 18, 2011
You have to speak with it, TOO.
Totally like whatever, you know?
In case you hadn't noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you're talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you're saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know?
Declarative sentences - so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?
What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally . . .
I mean absolutely . . . You know?
That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like . . .
whatever!
And so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is just a clever sort of . . . thing
to disguise the fact that we've become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since . . .
you know, a long, long time ago!
I entreat you,
I implore you,
I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it, TOO.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Kolkata
"Kolkata doesn't believe in half-measures: You'll either love the city or hate it, but be prepared for it to get under your skin - and unlike the inevitable grime that'll wash off at the end of the day, this extreme relationship will be a lot harder to get rid of. From the raucous cawing of the crow - the city's most prominent bird - to the constant cacophony of car horns, and from the sprawling slums to the man-drawn rickshaws (still being slowly phased out), Kolkata is an onslaught on the senses. To get a true idea of the city's core, one has to go beyond the obvious.
Try venturing out at the crack of dawn, when the city stretches itself to the grey skies and the emerging sun: head to the banks of the Hooghly river, a tributary as venerated - and as polluted - as the holy Ganga, where life quietly beats to a centuries-old rhythm. Or make time at twilight to linger in the Maidan (home to the Eden Gardens), the sprawling green expanse in the heart of the city that evokes almost more passion among residents than art and literature. Almost, we said - for it takes just a visit to the ramshackle College Street, lined with decrepit bookstalls and ancient coffeehouses, to decide this is where you feel the city's true pulse. It's easy to lose oneself in Kolkata - but if you do, ask a passerby: chances are, he won't give you directions back, he will escort you home."
Try venturing out at the crack of dawn, when the city stretches itself to the grey skies and the emerging sun: head to the banks of the Hooghly river, a tributary as venerated - and as polluted - as the holy Ganga, where life quietly beats to a centuries-old rhythm. Or make time at twilight to linger in the Maidan (home to the Eden Gardens), the sprawling green expanse in the heart of the city that evokes almost more passion among residents than art and literature. Almost, we said - for it takes just a visit to the ramshackle College Street, lined with decrepit bookstalls and ancient coffeehouses, to decide this is where you feel the city's true pulse. It's easy to lose oneself in Kolkata - but if you do, ask a passerby: chances are, he won't give you directions back, he will escort you home."
Friday, November 11, 2011
Toh zinda ho tum...... !!!!
Dilon mein tum apni,
Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Nazar mein khwabon ki
Bijliyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Hawa ke jhokon ke jaise
Aazad rehno sikho
Tum ek dariya ke jaise
Lehron mein behna sikho
Har ek lamhe se tum milo
Khole apni bhaayein
Har ek pal ek naya samha
Dekhen yeh nigahaein
Jo apni aankhon mein
Hairaniyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Dilon mein tum apni
Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Nazar mein khwabon ki
Bijliyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Hawa ke jhokon ke jaise
Aazad rehno sikho
Tum ek dariya ke jaise
Lehron mein behna sikho
Har ek lamhe se tum milo
Khole apni bhaayein
Har ek pal ek naya samha
Dekhen yeh nigahaein
Jo apni aankhon mein
Hairaniyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Dilon mein tum apni
Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
अब मेरे पास तुम आई हो तो क्या आई हो?
अब मेरे पास तुम आई हो तो क्या आई हो?
मैने माना के तुम इक पैकर-ए-रानाई हो
चमन-ए-दहर में रूह-ए-चमन आराई हो
तलत-ए-मेहर हो फ़िरदौस की बरनाई हो
बिन्त-ए-महताब हो गर्दूं से उतर आई हो
मुझसे मिलने में अब अंदेशा-ए-रुसवाई है
मैने खुद अपने किये की ये सज़ा पाई है
ख़ाक में आह! मिलाई है जवानी मैने
शोलाज़ारों में जलाई है जवानी मैने
शहर-ए-ख़ूबां में गंवाई है जवानी मैने
ख़्वाबगाहों में गंवाई है जवानी मैने
हुस्न ने जब भी इनायत की नज़र ड़ाली है
मेरे पैमान-ए-मोहब्बत ने सिपर ड़ाली है
उन दिनों मुझ पे क़यामत का जुनूं तारी था
सर पे सरशरी-ओ-इशरत का जुनूं तारी था
माहपारों से मोहब्बत का जुनूं तारी था
शहरयारों से रक़ाबत का जुनूं तारी था
एक बिस्तर-ए-मखमल-ओ-संजाब थी दुनिया मेरी
एक रंगीन-ओ-हसीं ख्वाब थी दुनिया मेरी
क्या सुनोगी मेरी मजरूह जवानी की पुकार
मेरी फ़रियाद-ए-जिगरदोज़ मेरा नाला-ए-ज़ार
शिद्दत-ए-कर्ब में ड़ूबी हुई मेरी गुफ़्तार
मै के खुद अपने मज़ाक़-ए-तरब आगीं का शिकार
वो गुदाज़-ए-दिल-ए-मरहूम कहां से लाऊँ
अब मै वो जज़्बा-ए-मासूम कहां से लाऊँ
अब मेरे पास तुम आई हो तो क्या आई हो?
मैने माना के तुम इक पैकर-ए-रानाई हो
चमन-ए-दहर में रूह-ए-चमन आराई हो
तलत-ए-मेहर हो फ़िरदौस की बरनाई हो
बिन्त-ए-महताब हो गर्दूं से उतर आई हो
मुझसे मिलने में अब अंदेशा-ए-रुसवाई है
मैने खुद अपने किये की ये सज़ा पाई है
ख़ाक में आह! मिलाई है जवानी मैने
शोलाज़ारों में जलाई है जवानी मैने
शहर-ए-ख़ूबां में गंवाई है जवानी मैने
ख़्वाबगाहों में गंवाई है जवानी मैने
हुस्न ने जब भी इनायत की नज़र ड़ाली है
मेरे पैमान-ए-मोहब्बत ने सिपर ड़ाली है
उन दिनों मुझ पे क़यामत का जुनूं तारी था
सर पे सरशरी-ओ-इशरत का जुनूं तारी था
माहपारों से मोहब्बत का जुनूं तारी था
शहरयारों से रक़ाबत का जुनूं तारी था
एक बिस्तर-ए-मखमल-ओ-संजाब थी दुनिया मेरी
एक रंगीन-ओ-हसीं ख्वाब थी दुनिया मेरी
क्या सुनोगी मेरी मजरूह जवानी की पुकार
मेरी फ़रियाद-ए-जिगरदोज़ मेरा नाला-ए-ज़ार
शिद्दत-ए-कर्ब में ड़ूबी हुई मेरी गुफ़्तार
मै के खुद अपने मज़ाक़-ए-तरब आगीं का शिकार
वो गुदाज़-ए-दिल-ए-मरहूम कहां से लाऊँ
अब मै वो जज़्बा-ए-मासूम कहां से लाऊँ
अब मेरे पास तुम आई हो तो क्या आई हो?
मैं भूल जाऊं तुम्हे, अब यही मुनासिब है
मैं भूल जाऊं तुम्हे, अब यही मुनासिब है
मगर भूलाना भी चाहूँ तो किस तरह भूलूँ
कि तुम तो फ़िर भी हकीक़त हो कोई ख्वाब नहीं
यहाँ तो दिल का ये आलम है क्या कहूँ
"कमबख्त" भुला सका ना ये वो सिलसिला जो था ही नहीं
वो इक ख्याल जो आवाज़ तक गया ही नहीं
वो एक बात जो मैं कह नहीं सका तुमसे
वो एक रब्त जो हम में कभी रहा ही नहीं
मुझे है याद वो सब जो कभी हुआ ही नहीं
अगर ये हाल है दिल का तो कोई समझाए
तुम्हें भुलाना भी चाहूँ तो किस तरह भूलूँ कि तुम तो फ़िर भी हकीक़त हो कोई ख्वाब नहीं...
मगर भूलाना भी चाहूँ तो किस तरह भूलूँ
कि तुम तो फ़िर भी हकीक़त हो कोई ख्वाब नहीं
यहाँ तो दिल का ये आलम है क्या कहूँ
"कमबख्त" भुला सका ना ये वो सिलसिला जो था ही नहीं
वो इक ख्याल जो आवाज़ तक गया ही नहीं
वो एक बात जो मैं कह नहीं सका तुमसे
वो एक रब्त जो हम में कभी रहा ही नहीं
मुझे है याद वो सब जो कभी हुआ ही नहीं
अगर ये हाल है दिल का तो कोई समझाए
तुम्हें भुलाना भी चाहूँ तो किस तरह भूलूँ कि तुम तो फ़िर भी हकीक़त हो कोई ख्वाब नहीं...
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें तो तुम न आना!
टूट जाए शीघ्र जिससे आस मेरी
छूट जाए शीघ्र जिससे साँस मेरी,
इसलिए यदि तुम कभी आओ इधर तो
द्वार तक आकर हमारे लौट जाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
देख लूं मैं भी कि तुम कितने निठुर हो,
किस कदर इन आँसुओं से बेखबर हो,
इसलिए जब सामने आकर तुम्हारे
मैं बहाऊँ अश्रु तो तुम मुस्कुराना।
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
जान लूं मैं भी कि तुम कैसे शिकारी,
चोट कैसी तीर की होती तुम्हारी,
इसलिए घायल हृदय लेकर खड़ा हूँ
लो लगाओ साधकर अपना निशाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
एक भी अरमान रह जाए न मन में,
औ, न बचे एक भी आँसू नयन में,
इसलिए जब मैं मरूं तब तुम घृणा से
एक ठोकर लाश में मेरी लगाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
टूट जाए शीघ्र जिससे आस मेरी
छूट जाए शीघ्र जिससे साँस मेरी,
इसलिए यदि तुम कभी आओ इधर तो
द्वार तक आकर हमारे लौट जाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
देख लूं मैं भी कि तुम कितने निठुर हो,
किस कदर इन आँसुओं से बेखबर हो,
इसलिए जब सामने आकर तुम्हारे
मैं बहाऊँ अश्रु तो तुम मुस्कुराना।
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
जान लूं मैं भी कि तुम कैसे शिकारी,
चोट कैसी तीर की होती तुम्हारी,
इसलिए घायल हृदय लेकर खड़ा हूँ
लो लगाओ साधकर अपना निशाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
एक भी अरमान रह जाए न मन में,
औ, न बचे एक भी आँसू नयन में,
इसलिए जब मैं मरूं तब तुम घृणा से
एक ठोकर लाश में मेरी लगाना!
अब बुलाऊँ भी तुम्हें...!!
~गोपालदास "नीरज"
zindagii mein to sabhii pyaar kiyaa karate hain
ज़िन्दगी में तो सभी प्यार किया करते हैं
मैं तो मर कर भी मेरी जान तुझे चाहूँगा
तू मिला है तो ये एहसास हुआ है मुझको
ये मेरी उम्र मोहब्बत के लिये थोड़ी है
इक ज़रा सा ग़म-ए-दौराँ का भी हक़ है जिस पर
मैनें वो साँस भी तेरे लिये रख छोड़ी है
तुझपे हो जाऊँगा क़ुरबान तुझे चाहूँगा
अपने जज़्बात में नग़्मात रचाने के लिये
मैनें धड़कन की तरह दिल में बसाया है तुझे
मैं तसव्वुर भी जुदाई का भला कैसे करूँ
मैं ने क़िस्मत की लकीरों से चुराया है तुझे
प्यार का बन के निगेहबान तुझे चाहूँगा
तेरी हर चाप से जलते हैं ख़यालों में चिराग़
जब भी तू आये जगाता हुआ जादू आये
तुझको छू लूँ तो फिर ऐ जान-ए-तमन्ना मुझको
देर तक अपने बदन से तेरी ख़ुश्बू आये
तू बहारों का है उनवान तुझे चाहूँगा
~qateel sifai
मैं तो मर कर भी मेरी जान तुझे चाहूँगा
तू मिला है तो ये एहसास हुआ है मुझको
ये मेरी उम्र मोहब्बत के लिये थोड़ी है
इक ज़रा सा ग़म-ए-दौराँ का भी हक़ है जिस पर
मैनें वो साँस भी तेरे लिये रख छोड़ी है
तुझपे हो जाऊँगा क़ुरबान तुझे चाहूँगा
अपने जज़्बात में नग़्मात रचाने के लिये
मैनें धड़कन की तरह दिल में बसाया है तुझे
मैं तसव्वुर भी जुदाई का भला कैसे करूँ
मैं ने क़िस्मत की लकीरों से चुराया है तुझे
प्यार का बन के निगेहबान तुझे चाहूँगा
तेरी हर चाप से जलते हैं ख़यालों में चिराग़
जब भी तू आये जगाता हुआ जादू आये
तुझको छू लूँ तो फिर ऐ जान-ए-तमन्ना मुझको
देर तक अपने बदन से तेरी ख़ुश्बू आये
तू बहारों का है उनवान तुझे चाहूँगा
~qateel sifai
Magnified
Grief draws
big black lines
around my loneliness
heightens all my fears
Grief lays stark every vulnerability
and doubt
and dusts away the cobwebs
of memories both lost and hidden.
It comes again and again and again
relentlessly
an unwanted monsoon storm,
a necessary cruelty
and I keep hoping that it is just a season
that the sun will shine on me and warm me again
but the days get colder, gloomier,
and winter must first be braved.
This be the Verse
This be the Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
—Philip Larkin
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
—Philip Larkin
Time Tested Beauty Tips
Time Tested Beauty Tips
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge you'll never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; Never throw out anybody.
Remember, If you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!
--Sam Levenson
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge you'll never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; Never throw out anybody.
Remember, If you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!
--Sam Levenson
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
sElFiShNeSs
".. The meaning ascribed in popular usage to the word “selfishness” is not merely wrong: it represents a devastating intellectual “package-deal”, which is responsible, more than any other single factor, for the arrested moral development of mankind.
In popular usage, the word “selfishness” is a synonym of evil; the image it conjures is of a murderous brute who tramples over piles of corpses to achieve his own ends, who cares for no living being and pursues nothing but the gratification of the mindless whims of any immediate moment.
Yet the exact meaning and dictionary definition of the word “selfishness” is: concern with one’s own interests.
This does not include a moral evaluation; it does not tell us whether concern with one’s own interests is good or evil; nor does it tell us what constitutes man’s actual interests. It is the task of ethics to answer such questions.
The ethics of altruism has created the image of the brute, as its answer, in order to make men accept two inhuman tenets: (a) that any concern with one’s own interests is evil, regardless of what these interests might be, and (b) that the brute’s activities are in fact to one’s own interests (which altruism enjoins man to renounce for the sake of his fellow beings).
-----
Altruism declares that any action taken for the benefit of others is good, and any action taken for one’;s own benefit is evil. Thus the beneficiary of an action is the only criterion or moral value – and so long as that beneficiary is anybody other than oneself, anything goes.
Hence the appalling immorality, the chronic injustices, the grotesque double standards, the insoluble conflicts and contradictions that have characterized human relationships and human societies throughout history, under all the variants of the altruist ethics. ...."
In popular usage, the word “selfishness” is a synonym of evil; the image it conjures is of a murderous brute who tramples over piles of corpses to achieve his own ends, who cares for no living being and pursues nothing but the gratification of the mindless whims of any immediate moment.
Yet the exact meaning and dictionary definition of the word “selfishness” is: concern with one’s own interests.
This does not include a moral evaluation; it does not tell us whether concern with one’s own interests is good or evil; nor does it tell us what constitutes man’s actual interests. It is the task of ethics to answer such questions.
The ethics of altruism has created the image of the brute, as its answer, in order to make men accept two inhuman tenets: (a) that any concern with one’s own interests is evil, regardless of what these interests might be, and (b) that the brute’s activities are in fact to one’s own interests (which altruism enjoins man to renounce for the sake of his fellow beings).
-----
Altruism declares that any action taken for the benefit of others is good, and any action taken for one’;s own benefit is evil. Thus the beneficiary of an action is the only criterion or moral value – and so long as that beneficiary is anybody other than oneself, anything goes.
Hence the appalling immorality, the chronic injustices, the grotesque double standards, the insoluble conflicts and contradictions that have characterized human relationships and human societies throughout history, under all the variants of the altruist ethics. ...."
picture abhi baki hai.... मैं अभी अनिश्चित हूँ
मेरी प्रगति या अगति का
यह मापदण्ड बदलो तुम,
जुए के पत्ते सा
मैं अभी अनिश्चित हूँ ।
मुझ पर हर ओर से चोटें पड़ रही हैं,
कोपलें उग रही हैं,
पत्तियाँ झड़ रही हैं,
मैं नया बनने के लिए खराद पर चढ़ रहा हूँ,
लड़ता हुआ
नयी राह गढ़ता हुआ आगे बढ़ रहा हूँ ।
अगर इस लड़ाई में मेरी साँसें उखड़ गईं,
मेरे बाज़ू टूट गए,
मेरे चरणों में आँधियों के समूह ठहर गए,
मेरे अधरों पर तरंगाकुल संगीत जम गया,
या मेरे माथे पर शर्म की लकीरें खिंच गईं,
तो मुझे पराजित मत मानना,
समझना –
तब और भी बड़े पैमाने पर
मेरे हृदय में असन्तोष उबल रहा होगा,
मेरी उम्मीदों के सैनिकों की पराजित पंक्तियाँ
एक बार और
शक्ति आज़माने को
धूल में खो जाने या कुछ हो जाने को
मचल रही होंगी ।
एक और अवसर की प्रतीक्षा में
मन की क़न्दीलें जल रही होंगी ।
ये जो फफोले तलुओं मे दीख रहे हैं
ये मुझको उकसाते हैं ।
पिण्डलियों की उभरी हुई नसें
मुझ पर व्यंग्य करती हैं ।
मुँह पर पड़ी हुई यौवन की झुर्रियाँ
क़सम देती हैं ।
कुछ हो अब, तय है –
मुझको आशंकाओं पर क़ाबू पाना है,
पत्थरों के सीने में
प्रतिध्वनि जगाते हुए
परिचित उन राहों में एक बार
विजय-गीत गाते हुए जाना है –
जिनमें मैं हार चुका हूँ ।
मेरी प्रगति या अगति का
यह मापदण्ड बदलो तुम
मैं अभी अनिश्चित हूँ ।
----------------------
यह मापदण्ड बदलो तुम,
जुए के पत्ते सा
मैं अभी अनिश्चित हूँ ।
मुझ पर हर ओर से चोटें पड़ रही हैं,
कोपलें उग रही हैं,
पत्तियाँ झड़ रही हैं,
मैं नया बनने के लिए खराद पर चढ़ रहा हूँ,
लड़ता हुआ
नयी राह गढ़ता हुआ आगे बढ़ रहा हूँ ।
अगर इस लड़ाई में मेरी साँसें उखड़ गईं,
मेरे बाज़ू टूट गए,
मेरे चरणों में आँधियों के समूह ठहर गए,
मेरे अधरों पर तरंगाकुल संगीत जम गया,
या मेरे माथे पर शर्म की लकीरें खिंच गईं,
तो मुझे पराजित मत मानना,
समझना –
तब और भी बड़े पैमाने पर
मेरे हृदय में असन्तोष उबल रहा होगा,
मेरी उम्मीदों के सैनिकों की पराजित पंक्तियाँ
एक बार और
शक्ति आज़माने को
धूल में खो जाने या कुछ हो जाने को
मचल रही होंगी ।
एक और अवसर की प्रतीक्षा में
मन की क़न्दीलें जल रही होंगी ।
ये जो फफोले तलुओं मे दीख रहे हैं
ये मुझको उकसाते हैं ।
पिण्डलियों की उभरी हुई नसें
मुझ पर व्यंग्य करती हैं ।
मुँह पर पड़ी हुई यौवन की झुर्रियाँ
क़सम देती हैं ।
कुछ हो अब, तय है –
मुझको आशंकाओं पर क़ाबू पाना है,
पत्थरों के सीने में
प्रतिध्वनि जगाते हुए
परिचित उन राहों में एक बार
विजय-गीत गाते हुए जाना है –
जिनमें मैं हार चुका हूँ ।
मेरी प्रगति या अगति का
यह मापदण्ड बदलो तुम
मैं अभी अनिश्चित हूँ ।
----------------------
Monday, October 31, 2011
udaan falak tak......
agar hai khud me himmat tujhko,
ja udd parinde dur talak,
chhu ja kar unche falak ko tu,
tera kya koi bigaar sake,
tu uncha sabse udd chuka,
tere pankho ki farar awaaz hai,
kaano me gunjit lay jaisi,
tere hausle se mujhko milti taakat,
teri unchai meri manzil,
jo mann me tere armaan uthe,
un armaano ko mat yu daba,
pankh faila tu swaagat kar,
un sapno sahit hawao ka,
aur durr nikal, ja dur nikal,
jo janzeere pairo ko baandhe,
un janzeero ko kaat nikal,
jo thandi thandi hawaa bahe,
un hawa ko pichhe chhod nikal,
tu kar sakta, himmat tujhme,
ja dur ashim gagan me ja,
aur kar saabit udna apna,
ja pura kar apna sapna,
dharti bhi tujhko bol pade,
itna uncha tu kaha gaya,
meri nazare tujhko dhundh rahi,
kab lautega tu ghar apna,
tu keh de main bas aata hu,
karke duri tay akaash talak,
sapne pure karke apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne.......
ja udd parinde dur talak,
chhu ja kar unche falak ko tu,
tera kya koi bigaar sake,
tu uncha sabse udd chuka,
tere pankho ki farar awaaz hai,
kaano me gunjit lay jaisi,
tere hausle se mujhko milti taakat,
teri unchai meri manzil,
jo mann me tere armaan uthe,
un armaano ko mat yu daba,
pankh faila tu swaagat kar,
un sapno sahit hawao ka,
aur durr nikal, ja dur nikal,
jo janzeere pairo ko baandhe,
un janzeero ko kaat nikal,
jo thandi thandi hawaa bahe,
un hawa ko pichhe chhod nikal,
tu kar sakta, himmat tujhme,
ja dur ashim gagan me ja,
aur kar saabit udna apna,
ja pura kar apna sapna,
dharti bhi tujhko bol pade,
itna uncha tu kaha gaya,
meri nazare tujhko dhundh rahi,
kab lautega tu ghar apna,
tu keh de main bas aata hu,
karke duri tay akaash talak,
sapne pure karke apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne,
bas aa raha main ghar apne.......
Two parts tequila, one part lime
WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION ASKED FOR A TWO-LINE RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE, BUT THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE
This is the winner
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife,
Marrying you screwed up my life.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
but I only slept with you, cause I was pissed
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
I thought that I could love no other --
that is until I met your sister.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so are you.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts tequila, one part lime
This is the winner
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife,
Marrying you screwed up my life.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
but I only slept with you, cause I was pissed
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
I thought that I could love no other --
that is until I met your sister.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so are you.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts tequila, one part lime
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि (Now I can't even accept your Love my Beloved)
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
चाहता था जब हृदय बनना तुम्हारा ही पुजारी,
छीनकर सर्वस्व मेरा तब कहा तुमने भिखारी,
आँसुओं से रात दिन मैंने चरण धोये तुम्हारे,
पर न भीगी एक क्षण भी चिर निठुर चितवन तुम्हारी,
जब तरस कर आज पूजा-भावना ही मर चुकी है,
तुम चलीं मुझको दिखाने भावमय संसार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
भावना ही जब नहीं तो व्यर्थ पूजन और अर्चन,
व्यर्थ है फिर देवता भी, व्यर्थ फिर मन का समर्पण,
सत्य तो यह है कि जग में पूज्य केवल भावना ही,
देवता तो भावना की तृप्ति का बस एक साधन,
तृप्ति का वरदान दोनों के परे जो-वह समय है,
जब समय ही वह न तो फिर व्यर्थ सब आधार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
अब मचलते हैं न नयनों में कभी रंगीन सपने,
हैं गये भर से थे जो हृदय में घाव तुमने,
कल्पना में अब परी बनकर उतर पाती नहीं तुम,
पास जो थे हैं स्वयं तुमने मिटाये चिह्न अपने,
दग्ध मन में जब तुम्हारी याद ही बाक़ी न कोई,
फिर कहाँ से मैं करूँ आरम्भ यह व्यापार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
अश्रु-सी है आज तिरती याद उस दिन की नजर में,
थी पड़ी जब नाव अपनी काल तूफ़ानी भँवर में,
कूल पर तब हो खड़ीं तुम व्यंग मुझ पर कर रही थीं,
पा सका था पार मैं खुद डूबकर सागर-लहर में,
हर लहर ही आज जब लगने लगी है पार मुझको,
तुम चलीं देने मुझे तब एक जड़ पतवार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
~Gopaldas Niraj
चाहता था जब हृदय बनना तुम्हारा ही पुजारी,
छीनकर सर्वस्व मेरा तब कहा तुमने भिखारी,
आँसुओं से रात दिन मैंने चरण धोये तुम्हारे,
पर न भीगी एक क्षण भी चिर निठुर चितवन तुम्हारी,
जब तरस कर आज पूजा-भावना ही मर चुकी है,
तुम चलीं मुझको दिखाने भावमय संसार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
भावना ही जब नहीं तो व्यर्थ पूजन और अर्चन,
व्यर्थ है फिर देवता भी, व्यर्थ फिर मन का समर्पण,
सत्य तो यह है कि जग में पूज्य केवल भावना ही,
देवता तो भावना की तृप्ति का बस एक साधन,
तृप्ति का वरदान दोनों के परे जो-वह समय है,
जब समय ही वह न तो फिर व्यर्थ सब आधार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
अब मचलते हैं न नयनों में कभी रंगीन सपने,
हैं गये भर से थे जो हृदय में घाव तुमने,
कल्पना में अब परी बनकर उतर पाती नहीं तुम,
पास जो थे हैं स्वयं तुमने मिटाये चिह्न अपने,
दग्ध मन में जब तुम्हारी याद ही बाक़ी न कोई,
फिर कहाँ से मैं करूँ आरम्भ यह व्यापार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
अश्रु-सी है आज तिरती याद उस दिन की नजर में,
थी पड़ी जब नाव अपनी काल तूफ़ानी भँवर में,
कूल पर तब हो खड़ीं तुम व्यंग मुझ पर कर रही थीं,
पा सका था पार मैं खुद डूबकर सागर-लहर में,
हर लहर ही आज जब लगने लगी है पार मुझको,
तुम चलीं देने मुझे तब एक जड़ पतवार प्रेयसि !
अब तुम्हारा प्यार भी मुझको नहीं स्वीकार प्रेयसि !
~Gopaldas Niraj
Thursday, October 20, 2011
"SELDOM & KEEN"
The two beings felt some
shame left and their journey
offererd them some rest..
They found pleasure
with each other, wandering
in that care free ground
That time there was no love
and even no hatred found...
Everything was so peaceful,
delighting yet maneuvering
And in there view
it was all new..
They didin't realise
how would it possibly be..
As there were no bounds
and not even a key
Then that carefree ground
became the world...
It was turning into
a big havoc and
slowly we were seeing time
in the world clock
Boundaries were drawn
humans diffrentiating
between dusk and dawn..
They see solace now
far and gone..
there was also a time when i was born..
Humans still treated each other well
but now they can throw each other
into a well
So the two came together
laughed and cried
thought , their pleasure was
nearly a bribe..
Afterwhich, this world
couln't survive
The world couldn't
survive...
shame left and their journey
offererd them some rest..
They found pleasure
with each other, wandering
in that care free ground
That time there was no love
and even no hatred found...
Everything was so peaceful,
delighting yet maneuvering
And in there view
it was all new..
They didin't realise
how would it possibly be..
As there were no bounds
and not even a key
Then that carefree ground
became the world...
It was turning into
a big havoc and
slowly we were seeing time
in the world clock
Boundaries were drawn
humans diffrentiating
between dusk and dawn..
They see solace now
far and gone..
there was also a time when i was born..
Humans still treated each other well
but now they can throw each other
into a well
So the two came together
laughed and cried
thought , their pleasure was
nearly a bribe..
Afterwhich, this world
couln't survive
The world couldn't
survive...
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Life of Sorrow
I assumed my life as flowers of happiness,
Without accepting the reality,
Creating and synthesizing it with vanity.
Unable to find the reason of sorrow,
Getting it to make a vase of morrow!
Wanted the approach of life to be sharp,
Without understanding the carp.
Dwelling and Blending the waves of follies,
Assured myself to be alone in the rollies.
I do not get the answer to the question is aroused,
Even know not why and wht is the answer to my subturge.
Attitude and mellitude to walk parallely,
Exibiting the obscurity to transcend melliciously.
There is always a ray of hope, I think,
But no way to determine the thought that blink.
Agony and chaos survive all the way,
And hardly happiness resides on a stay.
Pure, impure are just words of regerence,
Enthrilling and Encouraging the negative reference.
Static view opt on streams of livelihood,
No one understands the situation of my attitudes.
I am all the way alone in my life,
Which my greatest unhapppy experience of thought to survive.
There is all darkness and silence prevailing,
Nothing to say and wider the view for revealing,
Not one, not twice I thought of giving a console,
But what to say of the Heart which is not noel.
I am senisitive to all aspects and views,
Hardly what to say if the dear accuse.
Thinking, getting no way to move in ocean of tears,
I am surrounded all way alone of sad cheers.
Love is not to be explained but to be experienced,
Making only things to die out of experience.
There is no ownness of my friend to be felt,
Rather everywhere is only sorrows to knelt.
Oh! my poor Heart who always is disheartened,
But is in my way of hope that to be enlightened.
His concious touch surrogate my Heart,
Which is an innovative experience to bart!
That is why I say -
I assured life full of flowers of happiness
Without accepting the reality,
Creating and Synthesizing it with vanity,
Unable to find the reason of sorrow,
Getting it to make a vase of morrow!!
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