What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me— nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
There lived a sheep and her little one In mountains high and grey Happily grazing, playing together Thus they passed their days
One morning the lamb woke up And found empty place beside He searched and searched every hill and nook But his mother he could not find
A kind, old shepherd looked at him In soft pity he cried, “Be brave little one, be brave my son, Your mother died last night. She wept and wept out of love for you Which was so strong and pure It gave her all she needed For the pain she endured…”
“Where went she?” asked the little one, Alone, sad and terrified. “Oh!! She went to God’s heavenly abode… Where good souls go when they die..”
The little one clueless and alone Set out to search the vale To find heaven, to find god, To find where his mother dwelt.
Tired, helpless, hurt, small.. He roamed the entire plain At last he sat and wept and wept “My search has gone in vain…..” “Oh mother! Where are you?” cried he, “I need you here beside My breath is short, my eyes dim, Am I going to die?”
The doors of heaven blew apart By a mother’s love and unrest She reached the side of the little one And held him close to her breast
His eyes were shut yet he smiled His mother had come at last The parting, torment, suffering, pain Were memories of a distant past
She held him close and kissed him twice And again when he asked for more And then the little one along with his mother Knocked at the heaven’s door……
I lost too much that winter... a few strands of hair a dictionary a pair of mismatched socks
and
................. some precious grains of love
When summers came and the covers went off the dusty couches in unused rooms, I found here and there traces of a winter sun, little pieces of love, discarded peanut shells and a few moth balls....
Each discovery was a journey back through the cobwebs of memories and my blurred vision suddenly would get a clear view
My hibernating soul refuses to leave the warmth of that winter
A winter of broken pencils, torn pages and fingers stained with regrets...
So then ........ I promise you one last fling if I must My dear gypsy heart to satisfy your unquenchable wanderlust......
I allow you no more than a kiss or two Break free of those fetters I now permit you to... Fly high.................so high yet remain within reach Let not anyone capture you I do thee beseech
And when the time comes to enter the world of promises and vows made before the Lord
Don’t you look back with longing and tears unseen Forget what was and why or what could have been
Remember what all you had and say with a smile, “ I’m a gypsy heart come home after a journey of a thousand miles...............”
This word wrecks havoc with the BP and heart rate of residents of a particular street in Delhi 5. A two-plus terror, with maggi-noodle like hair, Khushi's screams have elicited groans of pain and terror from one and all. Rachit and Shivanshi are not immune to her. While Rachit still puts up a brave fight whenever Khushi is in the battle mode, Shivanshi just prays that God would make her invisible.
Khushi feels a strange affiliation to me. Don't know why I'm the CHOSEN ONE. She is perhaps under the impression that our home is a baby salon or something. She arrives everyday around 11 and expects me to wait upon her. Nail paint, combs, clips, toys.... all things are touched and appreciated.. She mumbles and jumbles.. picks out her favorite nail paint and goes on and paints my home blue.. a dash here.. a splash there.. and her job is done.
One summer day she arrived as usual and was delighted to find Rachit and Shivanshi sprawled on the floor, busy coloring. Peace is NOT acceptable to Khushi. She shrieked once, twice. Shivanshi quietly surrendered her drawing book while Rachit hid behind me. Just then my phone rang. I handed Khushi her favorite nail paint to quieten her and went outside to take the call. Two minutes was all she needed. And I returned to find that she has moved on to painting human forms.. live models.. I entered the room to find Shivanshi in a corner, sporting two blue imprints of little hands on either cheek, her eyes huge with unshed tears. Rachit was still unscathed. He couldn't decide whether to laugh at Shivanshi's fate or cry because it would be his turn soon.. Khushi turned around when I started laughing.. I could have hugged her.. She has achieved the unmanageable. She has tamed my two monsters!!
How many times have you urged someone to confess something? Is there anything you want to confess but don’t have the courage to? The urge to blurt things out is hard to suppress. Nothing exceptional here... just a few random things that are important to me. Most of these are embarrassing actually... stuff that I pretend I don’t do or like... Time to make some confessions here:-
1. THE FIRST CONFESSION: I adore Mills & Boons. Love reading them. Settling down with a good boss- secretary romance is my idea of bliss! I also love historical fiction... You know now what kind of books would occupy the maximum space in my library... come one I have just this one life to read all of them...:P
2. Confession 2: I CRY. Yes, I do. People who know me might not believe this, but I do cry at silly things. What makes me cry would be the subject matter of another blog entry but the last time I cried was I when I watched Paa... and Armageddon and Stepmom...
3. Confession 3: I don’t actually hate kids and babies that much. I get the occasional, over the top, screechy, hysterical fit when I have to deal with the two monsters at home... but what the heck... I always had a preference for the horror, the gory and the macabre.
HA HA HA!
(DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK I WOULD DECLARE MY LOVE FOR JUNO HERE??)
4. Confession 4: I often day dream about the superpower I would like to get. I guess I would love to be a master of legilimency (Potter fans know that it is the art of reading minds!) Or the power to become invisible. I guess some news channel would employ me as their 24X7 sting operation specialist!! I like to believe that daydreaming about this topic would motivate me to create a comic strip based on superhero/ fantasy character.
5. Confession 5: I dream of and am working towards the 2 things I want to own in this life- a tree and a library of my own. So people, who have lent me books, just forget about them and those whose books are missing... you are right... I STOLE THEM!
6. Confession 6: I always...ALWAYS cross my fingers before I open this page/ blog and utter this holy incantation, “Please god... just one more follower!”
7. Confession 7: I still haven’t managed to figure out the difference between quite and quiet, effect and affect and many such things... Quiet weird ehh?
8. Confession 8: I feel murderous when people ask me the meanings of random, big sounding words. And if I do not have the answer they smirk and say in a derisive tone, “AND YOU ARE A LIT STUDENT?? BAH!” Someone should tell them that the curriculum of the universities does not include vocab lesson....urrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!
9. Confession 9: Just because I’m studying Shakespeare, it doesn’t mean that I am walking talking information centre or line-identifying, giving-the-context-guide for you... I am still a student. Have pity on me!!
The Final Confession: ..........................................
I guess it’s high time I wrote something about the bard too. Just checked online and saw that my research proposal has been selected! I had promised myself that I would write something on Shakespeare if I did manage to get into Ph.D. Phew! Here it goes...
My Favourites in Shakespeare:
Favourite Play: King Lear- Well the reason for this being my favourite is kind of weird. This is the only play where the Bard has managed to affect my tear ducts. (Believe me.. that isTOUGH job!!)
Favourite Sonnet:
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Favorite Shakespearean Hero: Not that I’m a feminist, but choosing a favorite here seems like a task! Hmm.. It should be Prince Hal (Henry V) of the plays Henry IV I & II. No tragic heroes for me.
Favorite Shakespearean Heroine: The Serpent of the Nile- Cleopatra
Favorite movie on/about Shakespeare: Shakespeare in Love
Favorite adaptation of Shakespeare: Kenneth Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing (It has Keanu Reeves as Don John!!)
Favorite lines from Shakespeare: ‘Et tu, Brute!” – Julius Caesar
Favorite critic(s) on Shakespeare:Bruce Smith, Valerie Traub and Carol McNeely
Favorite Bit of Trivia on Shakespeare: The average American's vocabulary is around 10,000 words - 15,000 if you are REALLY smart. Shakespeare had a vocabulary of over 29,000 words.
Favorite Shakespearean Insult: “I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands!”
Favorite Shakespeare Biographer: Bill Bryson
A book on the bard I want to read: A Hunkier Shakespeare
Favorite Shakespearean Quotations
* Hamlet, III: 1
To be, or not to be: that is the question.
* Romeo and Juliet, II:2
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow.
* Twelfth Night, II:5
Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.
* Merchant of Venice, III:1
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
* Hamlet, I:5
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
* Macbeth, I:3
If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then to me.
* Two Gentlemen of Verona, I:2 They do not love that do not show their love.
* The Merchant of Venice, I:3 The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
* King Lear, III:6 He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.
And I would like to end this post by quoting Shakespeare’s epitaph:
Good frend for jesus sake forbeare to
digg the dust encloased heare.
Blest be ye man yt spares thes stones and
curst be he yt moves my bones
Strolling behind the gates of heaven I was surrounded by clouds of prayers, wishes, hopes and requests Money, success, love, health All formed a halo of materiality and in the human cloud of want I felt lost...
Suddenly I blinked Someone down there on Earth had asked for ‘Nothing’ as her birthday gift I looked closely and found her kneeling in prayer with tears in her eyes.
She said, “You have taken my all... Now give me nothing, nothing at all. If I have anything ......anything I hold dear with it there would be happiness but also a dark fear A fear of too many smiles that could be lost anytime So give me nothing, nothing my lord That is my wish this time”
Speechless, I just wondered and saw her sorrow unwind A spirit broken by hardship and cruelty of time Clueless, unsure of what to do I’m searching all the time What can I really give to this favourite child of mine?
