Wednesday, 9 September 2009
Foolish, mediocre, banal, abhorrent, scheming, bigoted, puritanical, opinionated, unfeeling, intolerant, jealous, unethical, stupid, boastful, impudent, uncouth, boorish, nasty, immoral, spiteful, insecure, insidious, distrustful, repulsive thing that I am, I am still better than YOU! (You know who you are...)
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Monday, 4 May 2009
The Dream
Swirling in this mortal coil
Amid the circling dome,
To fret among the frothy bays,
Rudderless we roam.
Blasting winds may parch us soon,
Or dust our swelting cheeks
When blazing beam of zenith star
Through the darkness seeks.
The house of straw sat burning umber,
Wails rang in my ear,
Roiling in the accretion disc,
Blue meek to swollen cheer.
The detritus then fell away
At the feet of dawning day.
Amid the circling dome,
To fret among the frothy bays,
Rudderless we roam.
Blasting winds may parch us soon,
Or dust our swelting cheeks
When blazing beam of zenith star
Through the darkness seeks.
The house of straw sat burning umber,
Wails rang in my ear,
Roiling in the accretion disc,
Blue meek to swollen cheer.
The detritus then fell away
At the feet of dawning day.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
That time of year again
There are 28 steps up to the English department.
Left-right-left, up 14 steps. Turn.
Another 14.
The heaviness of my bag weighs me down.
My hand moves instinctively to keep the cries from seeping out.
Still so many books to read, so many tests to give.
I could measure the ill-spun thread of my life with tests.
The room's suffocating.
There were 28 steps, weren't there?
I counted them myself; lonely steps for lonely people.
Sad little steps lead...where?
So many books to read, so many tests to give.
So many strangers to meet.
Left-right-left, up 14 steps. Turn.
Another 14.
The heaviness of my bag weighs me down.
My hand moves instinctively to keep the cries from seeping out.
Still so many books to read, so many tests to give.
I could measure the ill-spun thread of my life with tests.
The room's suffocating.
There were 28 steps, weren't there?
I counted them myself; lonely steps for lonely people.
Sad little steps lead...where?
So many books to read, so many tests to give.
So many strangers to meet.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
English is a crazy language!
1. Your house burnt up and then it burnt down. So your fire alarm went off by turning on. So you had to fill in your insurance form by filling it out.
2. If teachers taught, why haven't preachers praught???
3. If the plural of tooth is teeth, then why isn't the plural of booth beeth??
4. You can make amends but you can't make one amend.
5. If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Obviously humanitarians eat humanitables, not humans. Otherwise, vegetarians would eat vegans.
6. Noses that run and feet that smell?
7. How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? For that matter, how can awful be something bad when awesome is really good?
8. When the stars are out, they are visible. BUT when the lights are out, they are invisible.
9. You can be gormless, but what IS gorm? Apparently something that is good to have? And does someone have some "ruth" to give?
10. If "glasses" is a pair of lenses worn on the head, then why isn't a monocle called a "glass"?
11. Why is the fear of long words 'hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia'?
12. If one who does stupid things is "reckless", why can't someone who thinks things through be "reckful"?
13. One of the mice is called a mouse, but one of the dice isn’t a douse, nor one grain of rice called a rouse, nor a cube of ice called an ouse? And why isn’t a house one of the hice or a blouse one of the blice? (And for that matter, why isn't a spouse one of the spice?)
14. If ice makes icicles, what does a test make?
15. If teachers are teaching and painters are painting, why aren't lawyers lawying?
16. If the prefix "de" means none or the opposite of, how does de-void still mean "nothing"?
Terry Pratchett says it all when he was talking about elves:
“Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.”
2. If teachers taught, why haven't preachers praught???
3. If the plural of tooth is teeth, then why isn't the plural of booth beeth??
4. You can make amends but you can't make one amend.
5. If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Obviously humanitarians eat humanitables, not humans. Otherwise, vegetarians would eat vegans.
6. Noses that run and feet that smell?
7. How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? For that matter, how can awful be something bad when awesome is really good?
8. When the stars are out, they are visible. BUT when the lights are out, they are invisible.
9. You can be gormless, but what IS gorm? Apparently something that is good to have? And does someone have some "ruth" to give?
10. If "glasses" is a pair of lenses worn on the head, then why isn't a monocle called a "glass"?
11. Why is the fear of long words 'hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia'?
12. If one who does stupid things is "reckless", why can't someone who thinks things through be "reckful"?
13. One of the mice is called a mouse, but one of the dice isn’t a douse, nor one grain of rice called a rouse, nor a cube of ice called an ouse? And why isn’t a house one of the hice or a blouse one of the blice? (And for that matter, why isn't a spouse one of the spice?)
14. If ice makes icicles, what does a test make?
15. If teachers are teaching and painters are painting, why aren't lawyers lawying?
16. If the prefix "de" means none or the opposite of, how does de-void still mean "nothing"?
Terry Pratchett says it all when he was talking about elves:
“Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.”
Friday, 20 February 2009
Why do you think...
all bus conductors all carry the same little brown leather pouch? Where do they get them from? Is there some black-market cartel operating here?? Why don't we ever see them on sale at, say, Gariahat market? Must investigate further...
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Suara!
Am listening to this brill J-Pop song by Suara right this moment. Its called "Kimi ga Tame"... beautiful, beautiful lyrics. The first line says it all: Kimi no hitomi ni utsuru watashi wa nani iro desuka? (roughly translated: When your eyes catch my reflection, what hue am I?) Isn't it romantic? You can download it from Gendou (link in the sidebar).
Sanskriti '09
Loved the JUDE performance at the Eastern Group Dance! Unfortunately, the judge thought otherwise!Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Vespers
They hang aloft, stretching from treetop to treetop,
Serene and lovely and red,
Each carrying an unchanging prayer, waving in the wind.
They shall not be born aloft upon angelic wings:
They are for you.
Do not be surprised, you have seen them before.
Alone, they are nothing.
But strung together, they form a potent prayer.
You are anxious to read them all meticulously,
Reading the same message again and again,
Anxious to show your concern,
Not to offend either the message or the messenger.
Our culture, our creed.
The sinuous symbol, like a red blossom,
Less fragrant, less frail,
Is hypnotic, you can’t escape its stern gaze,
Anxiously frank as it is to show you the way.
And then, it loses meaning, loses definition,
Until you aren’t sure
Serene and lovely and red,
Each carrying an unchanging prayer, waving in the wind.
They shall not be born aloft upon angelic wings:
They are for you.
Do not be surprised, you have seen them before.
Alone, they are nothing.
But strung together, they form a potent prayer.
You are anxious to read them all meticulously,
Reading the same message again and again,
Anxious to show your concern,
Not to offend either the message or the messenger.
Our culture, our creed.
The sinuous symbol, like a red blossom,
Less fragrant, less frail,
Is hypnotic, you can’t escape its stern gaze,
Anxiously frank as it is to show you the way.
And then, it loses meaning, loses definition,
Until you aren’t sure
Of what it is you were looking for.
Our culture, our creed.
The fluttering flags, each a fervent prayer,
Seem brittle in their diaphanous form:
Bits and pieces have already been stolen by the incessant wind,
And have scattered their seeds into other lands.
Barren, alas!
Quietly conscious of their might,
They seem to whisper:
Our culture, our creed.
You shiver, as the breeze grows stronger,
And the shuffle of the prayer-flags becomes a din.
The red flags flutter in accompaniment.
Foolish, they can never be budged.
Look! The trees have shrugged off the last yellowed leaves of fall,
And as they floated past those leaflets,
You could hear them ask,
“What are you waiting for?”
And they replied,
Our culture, our creed.
The papers are but sentinels,
Witnesses to the spectacle that shall unfold
Under the barren trees, strung about with prayer flags.
When shall we see that vision?
A great mass shall gather in this magical space,
And shall declare their loyalty with grave voices,
As if by a miracle united in their firm conviction in
Our culture, our creed.
And we shall see the high priests come and go,
With patronizing smiles, and well-rehearsed frowns,
Looking each man in the eye, and saying
The thing each man had come to hear.
The flags shall bear witness then to the colossal cry
The huddling mass shall fling in defiance to the heavens,
And the priests shall sigh in every ear,
Our culture our creed.
And when you can walk no more,
And your knees are mangled and broken,
Your dignity bruised and aching,
You shall look once more at those flags,
Watch as they flap so high above your bent brow,
Serene, elegant, and lethal,
And read again the universal wish,
The four ideal words,
And you will marvel at the perfection of this endless mantra:
Ei chinhe vote din.
Forgotten chords. Broken dreams.
Our culture, our creed.
The fluttering flags, each a fervent prayer,
Seem brittle in their diaphanous form:
Bits and pieces have already been stolen by the incessant wind,
And have scattered their seeds into other lands.
Barren, alas!
Quietly conscious of their might,
They seem to whisper:
Our culture, our creed.
You shiver, as the breeze grows stronger,
And the shuffle of the prayer-flags becomes a din.
The red flags flutter in accompaniment.
Foolish, they can never be budged.
Look! The trees have shrugged off the last yellowed leaves of fall,
And as they floated past those leaflets,
You could hear them ask,
“What are you waiting for?”
And they replied,
Our culture, our creed.
The papers are but sentinels,
Witnesses to the spectacle that shall unfold
Under the barren trees, strung about with prayer flags.
When shall we see that vision?
A great mass shall gather in this magical space,
And shall declare their loyalty with grave voices,
As if by a miracle united in their firm conviction in
Our culture, our creed.
And we shall see the high priests come and go,
With patronizing smiles, and well-rehearsed frowns,
Looking each man in the eye, and saying
The thing each man had come to hear.
The flags shall bear witness then to the colossal cry
The huddling mass shall fling in defiance to the heavens,
And the priests shall sigh in every ear,
Our culture our creed.
And when you can walk no more,
And your knees are mangled and broken,
Your dignity bruised and aching,
You shall look once more at those flags,
Watch as they flap so high above your bent brow,
Serene, elegant, and lethal,
And read again the universal wish,
The four ideal words,
And you will marvel at the perfection of this endless mantra:
Ei chinhe vote din.
Forgotten chords. Broken dreams.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Life as we know it...
...continued with customary tedium. I feel exhausted after my exams (piano, english, japanese). I feel bloated, anaemic and sullied. I swear, I am never going to let my deadlines dictate my lifestyle. Never. When you do, you find that you have no life. Your life is reduced to rushing from one adrenaline pumped test to another. An in-between: fatigue, numbness and ennui...with random fits of narcolepsy. Current rant being over, I am going to have something deep-fried and smothered in chocolate. And I'll feel better.
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