Lily- A Haiku

    SBUT Nature

White Winter Lily

Stolen on nigh of blossom

Sold with her body

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I am a Mad Writer

I start this narrative with a lie that I am a writer. I am not . At least I am not sure about it. What makes me say so?

Like the quintessential inquisitive young adult I got to my computer and typed in the words "Define: Writer". The result was eye-opening. The first link said, a writer is "a person who writes books, stories, or articles as a job or regular occupation." Hmm... retrospect. Being schooled in a typical school with typical teachers and typical (read: boring) academic curriculum, this thought never crossed my head. I used to write essays on mundane topics like "the impotence (er. importance) of discipline". One night, while downing my seventh cup of coffee fumbling on words, googling (again!) fancy sample essays while cursing the teacher and the clock (which again smiles and says 2 hours to deadline) I break-down. Introspect. What am I writing, why am I writing? Does writing simply means- using a system of more or less permanent marks used to represent an utterance in such a way that it can be recovered more or less exactly without the intervention of the utter-er. Ha. I laugh at this definition which in turn mocks me. What do I do now? Google again. I say motivate me Google, and like the rising sun Google shines forth this quote:

"Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.”—Enid Bagnold

Almost brought a tear to my eye. I exclaimed to myself yeah! there is a metaphysical realm to it. it not just a mere conglomeration of words! It is to create a flower out of cacti. So with the keyboard in front of me and a new blogger ID, I the toiling vintner, shall grow words for grapes as they grow on adverbs and metaphors that so they can then be turned into the sweet (and intoxicating) wine. Wait ... rewind, retrospect.

“The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.”—Samuel Johnson

Damn, I didn't do that! I have to be a reader first. So I march to the library and pick up "Moby Dick". Crumbling under the weight of its sentences (and the sheer mass of the book) I set it aside. As Nathaniel Hawthorne said "Easy reading is damn hard writing." Its easier said than done. Anger. Failure. Resentment.

Somehow I got on with reading the works of the greats and the not so greats. I got myself a Goodreads account and then the critic in me started rating the greats. All is well now that I've read a lot, I can write - I thought. And life has been thus, living this lie.

Being as writer and being a good writer are two entirely different things. So what makes one a good writer? Reading and writing a lot. Agreed. But you do need someone to tell you: “You suck” in your face (or on some major social forum).

But then again what gives a person the right to judge others? Not going into the ethics of it, we need writers to judge writers. Theoretically every person must have read a lot and written a lot to judge a person who has done the same. So that’s where other writers come in :

1. To provide judgmental (hurtful) commentary

2. to provide more stuff to read.

This is how I see myself in the milieu of writers today, on the keyboard I slog

I do still wait for some comments perhaps from some anonymous surfer who laid a casual eye.

As the day passes by I chuckle to myself "Writing is its own reward, Sigh."

Going by definition, I am a bard too. Kidding. I am a confused writer, the Mad Hatter. Am I a writer? Do I want to become one if not, then? . I’m troubled to answer I must admit. I’m afraid I will burst into flames at some point if I do. I’m afraid I will fade into obscurity away if I don’t. I’m uncertain if I must become selfish in order to grow into who I want and need to be. But I do know this silent solitude in me is the only thing I've known for years. And I do not wish to watch it go.I need inspiration, motivation and feedback. Arrgh... breakdown, rebellion,, apathy. I am what I am, an agent of chaos. I like being confused. It makes writing interesting. It lets me live in a different world amongst the eccentric characters away from mediocrity and mundanity where everyday is full of promise and well madness. After all
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

Simply because I haven’t got a clue, nor do I give a damn.


Credits: Snoopy, Calvin, Mad Hatter

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The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Sight, a brilliant and disturbing short sci-fi film by Eran May-raz and Daniel Lazo, imagines a world in which Google Glass-inspired apps are everywhere.

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Happiness IS in your head

With mirth they seem'd be laughing
but had a smile seared instead.
With pain abraded and sadness in place,
Is happiness in your head?


with heads held low and stinging rays of hope
faith grows heavy as lead.
The coal is wet and the brazier grows cold,
Is happiness still in your head?

The urge to do is done away with
the pyre burns and the forest, in dread.
The vision goes bleary and senses askew
Happiness can't be in your head.

Will the fog fade and the obscured sky be clear?
When will the the truth be told, the petitions be read?
Will the promises ever be kept, them songs be sung?
Happiness is in your head?

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LINE OF DISTINCTION OR LINE OF SYMMETRY?

*This is a piece written by a friend of mine, Shehzad Hathi. Hope you like it!

The narrow line of distinction between men and women has widened immensely over some periods of history. In the ‘Chaos Theory’, this may be described as the ‘Butterfly Effect’, where a little error transforms into a huge one, owing to further calculations performed with that error. A very striking instance of this fissure is the patriarchal society.

‘So dark the con of man’- the anagram of Madonna of the Rocks would have incited the ‘The Da Vinci Code’ readers (especially the feminists). Although there have been rebellions against the unjust society, people have wondered: did women ever have a Renaissance?

Now I have a question that few would have pondered upon. Do you
seriously think that due to patriarchy, only women have suffered? Why do you think men are always found at higher risk of a heart attack on an average? Why are stricter punishments awarded to boys than girls at school? Why the hell should soldiers who fight on fronts be mostly men when we have heard stories about fierce Amazons in the past? The answer to all these questions and many more is patriarchy. Therefore, every man must loathe patriarchy as much as a woman does.


By talking about all this stuff, don’t think I am downplaying the evils of patriarchy that have tormented women over generations. What I am suggesting is that equilibrium is beneficial to both parties. Therefore, I must warn all men and women to stay away from male and female chauvinistic ideas. Those who find female chauvinism an alien concept must remove some seaweed from their brains and get updated.

A question that intrigues me is that why are so many feminists bestowed with an inferiority complex. While they must report crimes meted out against women, they must also encourage women to emulate epitomes and that, is not actually happening. For example, I know people (women, I mean) who don’t know anything about (and don’t actually care) Indra Nooyi, Chanda Kochar or Hillary Clinton. While this is pardonable, what is not pardonable is that they do not think that women can be like those mentioned above because they have hardly ever known women like those in their lives. So while it is quite easy for us to discuss stuff like women should fight for their rights, we may not realize that there are people who don’t know a thing about their rights. Therefore, if you are going to fill their minds with pessimistic junk like human rights abuse and so many women falling prey to those abuses, you are just cementing their age-old myths. Let us consider an analogy. A slave in Virginia is told every day that s/he is enslaved. Slavery is a gruesome inhumane crime! But it is like hammering on cold iron. Instead if s/he is shown that other slaves are fleeing to Ohio, your job is done.

The idea is that self-realization and self-motivation is what we want. You know what, making special laws for women rights violation is also an acceptance of the yoke of patriarchy. Why not just consolidate human rights laws because then we are treating the two sexes as equal. While the need of the hour is to provide special laws for protection of women rights, in the long term, every feminist must seek to curb those laws and not elaborate them. This should be considered as attainment of symmetry.

PS: The article is not obsessively optimistic. While it does not negate the plight of women, it is an antidote to pessimistic feminism.

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The Tree

Over the hill grew a mighty tree,
Seeded by the Gods themselves.
Nourished by the Mother, growing free,
taken care of by the little elves.

Its trunk was strong,
Green were its leaves, deep were its roots.
A myriad of animals doth throng,
To taste its heavenly fruits.

It sheltered creatures of a variety wide,
Even the outcasts that did flee.
Like the mischievous snake that there did hide,
Also, did the humble bee.

On an ominous day, came on metal horses, 
And claimed the forest to be theirs.
They hath used chemical forces,
And stole the golden fruits from its rightful heirs.

Greed! they took its fruits to sell,
Killed her residents there,
Wounded thy mighty Belle!
And winter doth come now, rendered Her bare.

Alas! the tree was  barren,
It bore no fruits.
Its leaves had fallen,
And withered were its roots.

It stood then like a ghost of the night,
its bark grew hollow....
suffering from blight.
nothing could bring it back, even Apollo....

The love that nourished her was lost,
Greed had taken its place...
But at what cost?
It doth rot away then, leaving no trace...

The Gods showed their spite now,
For mercy they did beg.
Many a seeds they then sow,
But the Gods doth segue.

Drought and disease took many a soul,
The city bell no longer did chime.
Men of greatness died without extol,
Tis' the dying Bard's rhyme.

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The Dream in Shades

I woke up in a land of Dreams,

No, not the one with a fairytale theme.

T'was a dark desolate place, where the devil doth roam,

Where on profanity, lust and greed doth men clomb.

There was no one but me shadow as a friend,

As I roamed about this emptiness - hungry, tried à wits end.

Suddenly the air chilled, sky darkened and my shadow flew,

A fiend appeared with crimson eyes and skin a deadly shade of blue.

As the monster looked me in the eyes,

I knew it was Fate in disguise.

The life I had lived flashed moments apart,

Quanta of emotions exploded in my heart.

I said - "If this be the end i don’t want thee,

The ferryman will have to leave without his fee".

I struck the beast hard never realizing His plan,

It was me that died as It was slain.

Everything was blurry as I opened my eyes,

I didn't have glasses on, I realized

I put them on to see a familiar scene,

A ransacked room and a bright LED screen.

I had dozed off playing the Game,

Stuck on some level - what a shame!

Realizing - such similar is the strife,

Call it a game, Call it Life.

                                                          ~suggest a title...

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The Day

so guys, here is a weak attempt at poetry...

I met Her one "fine" day;

she said "I'm fine", but her eyes doth betray.

The blue dam held behind an ocean of tears;

Sensing her pain i asked -" What's the matter, Dear?".

But She said what seemed to be white lies;

Finally, she could not hold back...she cried.

I took her in my arms;

Promised, i'll protect her from all harms.

But she said we were not meant to be....

" it isin't you....its me".

Hence, the classic hand had been played,

I felt speechless and betrayed.

the Sun was shining down on us, oh so bright;

She began to retrace her steps, fading into the light.

As our years together flashed by.

i took a deep breath, forced a smile and said.."Goodbye".

~dedicated to all the crazy lovers and career options out there ;-) 

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This is as REAL as it gets...

from: http://www.smbc-comics.com

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