Monday, March 29, 2010

Friday, March 26, 2010

Pilu

Time of play: fourth quarter of the day (late afternoon before sunset)
Expression: she does not know herself what she wants, she is satisfied yet longing for something else, sometimes gay and sometimes sad, ever changing.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Barbara

She knocked, I opened the door.
We spoke for hours about life and love. Somehow the questions I had were answered by her. A very awakened woman who has seen a lot in her life. Finally she has landed up in Benaras and here sitting in my room talking to me about what could have gone wrong over the last couple of months. I found answers and now I feel a lot more lucid. A sense of clarity. Now I can move on and stand on the edge, like that piece of wire in "Edge-less" (Artery, Hinterland, Vol. 001).

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

I'm through with this whole circus.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Shyam

Back in Shiva-city, a roaring rampage of heat;
Evening, Balu's tea shop and wonderful love story of Shyam, the pocket-size boy
He told me of his 9-year long relationship, his undying love for Madhumita (tattooed on his arm), how he used to go every evening to see her at her balcony (the signal of two coughs to make her know he is downstairs), how he would end his life if she didn't marry him, how she used to call him everyday at 7am, 2pm, 7pm and 10pm to check if he has eaten anything, how she used to throw notes to the ground, he told me about all their loveletters (thousands of them), about the concept of "true love waits" and his own idea of "if the crow bites your finger, will you look at your finger or the crow", simple philosophies that have guided him so far and kept him in everlasting love, about how she refers to him as her child, how he stopped drinking, smoking and all such things after he met her, so many other inspiring stories of their love. He spoke, I just listened to everything he said. He told me his story in total sincerity, I listened in total awe. So much to learn, so much to learn...

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Bliss is
legs in steaming hot water, back against stone.

I feel fresh and delicate like a rainbow in the sky.
Stillnessisnice

Still




real still.
Nothing, just nothing.
Vashishta, heaven within my fingertips, the world in my hands.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Tristeza

She cuts the ribbons on the floor,
draws letters on the wall,
she also paints the eyeliner on her heart.

She is the ellipsis
Macrovision in definition
she is the little green light beside the bright blue wall.

She is Tristeza.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Used

Diffused,
Like the height of light.

Infused
,
With the unkind mind.

Bemused,
In the throw of to-and-fro.

Confused,
With the way of the paragraphic day.

Friday, March 5, 2010

I miss you from isaac niemand on Vimeo.

Abstrakt Kollision

A funny day.

A day spent
on the houseboat, chillum with Bengali baba,

A day spent
in those recurring walks in the gulleys, then back to Assi, surprise visitor Marco Italian trumpeteer, like a boy discovering a new toy, lost in the sounds of my mini-xylophone, Aurobindo breathing through every note in the minor scale. Doodling away with Viswanath and Dhrupad singer Amar, minutes and how they flutter through air pressure, then McDonalds followed, my western heart happy, back on cycle rickshaw to Assi, a fun day, surprise moments and then the icing on the cake. The Black Cherry, that moment when I got off the cycle richshaw, paid the guy, walked onwards and trying to avoid a dog fight, crash into cyclist from behind, dog jumps towards me, bites. A little blood, now I am on the grid, I was the collision point, abstrakt kollision, the victim, the one who got hit and hopefully, the one who got away...

...and the poem that followed...

That moment when the points collide
On the trajectory
When the orbits intersect, the x meets the y,
the Bite is done, the needle and the damage done, the moment passed.
Stillness followed...
Like that time, deep into the night, in the silent wilderness when the tigers come out
That stillness

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Feeding Fish

Panchganga Ghat, the narrow lanes behind it, like walking through the streets of time, chai in a small shop with green and blue walls, then bought some dough with MohanDanger and Viswanath Baba, went down to the ghats, added water to it, fed the fish. Took the boat back to Manikarnika, fed some more fish, lit chillum under submerged temple near the underground path that has been blocked off for over 2000 years. Up on the cantilvered section of the temple, two dogs playing. While I quietly fed the fish. Back to Balu's tea shop, a cigarette and on the cycle again, back home... a wonderful day.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

3/3/10

And then the following day I went to Lara's house, again.

Transcendental. In one word. She told me all these lovely stories about her, how she lived in caves for a year, broke her six-string to make it a 3-string, trishul and all, how she landed up in Delhi and could understand Hindi, like the phonetics were from a mirror-image of a parallel life, or probably the previous one. We jammed, my 12-string and her concept-guitar. It somehow kept meeting in places. Like a meeting in the aisles. Secretly. The secrets of the soul slowly unfolding. A closer connection. A looking in view. Seeing. When she sang, I was taken back to Medieval times, those lutes from that time. That pale-green light surrounding everything. Pastel. She told me about Xi, a name she gave herself which she felt was her, about her paintings - those wonderful ones of the mountains, of Mt. Kailash, of all those moments her heart blinked. And then she began playing the harmonium and we had a very crazy midnight suicide-time raga, dark and brooding. Then she continued playing on her concept-guitar. She sang some wonderful songs. I was lost. Wonderfully lost. There is a deep sense of devotion I feel for people like her. "Like her" wouldnt be the right thing to say, because she is the only one like herself. But yeah, them. That lot. That gifted lot of musicians and artists. And over the last few days the wonderful insight into Mohanettan's paintings have opened another window of my soul, now giving me a clearer view of what its like in there. Deep where that light shines. That eternal light, that silent light. Of truth.

I am in total awe. Her heartchakra is in total spring. Total spring, absolute earth.

2/3/10

The day I went to Lara's house.

So, I met Lara at Kashi Coffee stall. She was on her Luna. Looking so cool prancing around in His Highness Shiva Ji's megacity. Cool, legs loose, a free spirit. I felt it. The energy was raw, untamed. Beautiful. Like a Lara Croft in Benaras. Supergirl.

We went back to my pad. She sat on the floor eagerly waiting to see Look here, Kunigunda, my Tarkovsky-inspired magnumopus from the pre-man phase. I played it, Ganesh played his pakawaj alongwith the Rachels. A strange southern twist pre-mississippi blues. We spoke a bit about the film afterwards. Then she took the guitar and played a few chords. She invited me over to hers. I was eager to see this instrument she had created, a marriage of the Sarod and an acoustic guitar, 4 strings, numerous sympathetic strings.

We went back to hers on her Luna. Past Gangaji, reflecting the lovely full-moons light. Ripples of earth. Lara mouthing "Abhay niklo yaar" to the rather drunk people on the street, the Holi-hangover partypeople. I told her I could teach her some "gaali's". On a tangent, oh, I just remembered how Pashupathinath ji sang "Gaali mein doongi" and how he repeated numerous times, variations, various nuances. Enthralled and totally zoned out, total macrocosm, magnetic field something +ve, something -ve. Mixed. Gallons of electrons.

Back to her, she began playing songs. She was surrounded by Tablas, a harmonium, a little table with her iPod player and other things. And she started playing... and I wont say anymore words. It was beautiful, really beautiful. Her posture when she was playing the tabla, her hands, blurring between the eyes of time, her head skywards looking at the third eye looking back. Eyes seeing eye to eye. Dissoved in the stillness, an energy I haven't experienced in a long time. She is Lara. Lara Xi. She is Kali's energy in a French outfit.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The choices we make, the cakes we bake, the decisions we take, the nuances we fake
All like little mudhills around a lake...