Crisscross in blue

yellow lines in the mist,


faces in mask
and soft paper smiles
zigzag in a dream


soundless,
yet so loud


prayerless
beneath the moon;
the sapphire woman is your friend
tonight


with the orange lipstick
and an accent,
she tells me you live down the lane


fluid lights, gliding,
a violent kiss on glass


we stop by for a word
in dream silence


your kiss tastes a bit too odd
this evening


your touch travels places
and crumbles into dust;
timeless


music invades your body
and crawls up your skin
like an orgasm


so can't poets be normal,
you ask me,
will songs ever heal
our child of snow?


your eyes, wet like a violin storm
fall back deep
in time


the moon sinks from your world
like a stolen radio signal,


walls and lost code


a strangle lane in smoke,
almost liquid
and winding


you said I never dream….

The Sky

O heaven above me, thou pure, thou deep heaven!

Thou abyss of light! Gazing on thee, I tremble with divine desires.

Up to thy height to toss myself--that is MY depth!

In thy purity to hide myself--that is MINE innocence!

God veileth his beauty: thus hidest thou thy stars.

Thou speakest not: THUS proclaimest thou thy wisdom unto me.

Mute o'er the raging sea hast thou risen for me to-day;

Thy love and thy modesty make a revelation unto my raging soul.

In that thou came unto me beautiful, veiled in thy beauty,

In that thou spake unto me mutely, obvious in thy wisdom:

Oh, how could I fail to divine all the modesty of thy soul!

BEFORE the sun didst thou come unto me--the lonesomest one.

We have been friends from the beginning:

To us are grief, gruesomeness, and ground common;

Even the sun is common to us.

We do not speak to each other, because we know too much

We keep silent to each other, we smile our knowledge to each other.

Art thou not the light of my fire?

Dost thou not share the soul of mine insight?

Together did we learn everything;

Together did we learn to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves,

And to smile uncloudedly:--

--Uncloudedly to smile down out of luminous eyes and out of miles of distance,

when under us violence and constraint and purpose and guilt steam like rain.

And wandered I alone, for WHAT did my soul hunger by night and in labyrinthine paths?

And climbed I mountains, WHOM did I ever seek, if not thee, upon mountains?

And all my wandering and mountain-climbing: a necessity was it merely,

To FLY only, wanteth mine entire will, to fly into THEE!

And what have I hated more than passing clouds,

And whatever tainteth thee?

And mine own hatred have I even hated, because it tainted thee!

The passing clouds I detest--those stealthy cats of prey:

They take from thee and me what is common to us

--the vast unbounded Yes and Amen.

These mediators and mixers we detest--the passing clouds: those half-and-half ones, that have neither learned to bless nor to curse from the heart.

(Sent in by Rudraksh)

Twenty Ten & we're here again!!

1. Which were the five best moments of 2009 according to you?

2. And what according to you will be the five best and five worst moments of 2010?

Rack your brains and come up with something....it may not be scientific...anything that challenges convictions.'Vent your frustrations' and write in to us soon.

Here's wishing u all a Happy New year 2010!

Happys Noo Year, Yaar!

May y'all find newer horizons as Lyadhists.

Rock the Joo, Jood ishtyle!

Love Lav.

Some of Rudraksh's aphorisms

by Rudraksh Bhattacharya (duh! who'dya think?)

Man must act in such a way that the whole of his individuality lies in each moment.

Algebra is conceptual, arithmetic intuitive.

What is right in socialism is that every man should strive to seek and find, just as his own self and particular nature, even yet his own property; and here his possibilities must not be restricted from the very beginning from outside. A man can be proud of acquired riches, and rightly look up to them as up to a moral symbol of inner work, also.

Hope– fear : psychology of the gambler. Every compulsive gambler suffers greatly from fear.

Murder is a self-justification of the criminal; through it he seeks to prove to himself that nothing exists.

The criminal is the polar opposite of the man who feels guilty. For the latter takes his guilt upon himself, while the criminal gives it to another. He takes revenge upon and punishes the other for himself: That is how murder is explained.

Every sickness is crime and punishment; all medicine must become “psych-iatry”, care-of-the-soul. It is something immoral, i.e., unconcious, that leads to sickness; and every sickness is healed as soon as it is inwardly recognized and understood by the sick person himself.

The old view of things is very profound, which leaves the sick person and leper to ask what they might have done, that God should punish them so.

That is why man is ashamed of illness; woman never.

Imagination and adornment,

Imagination and art,

Imagination and play,

Imagination and love,

Imagination and creation,

Imagination and form,

Imagination and adornment.

The discontinuity in the passage of time is what is immoral in it.

The relationship of finality to causality cannot be determined without resolving the problem of time.

Cause – Effect Time

Means – End Inversion of time

Whoever makes the end into a means and treats the effect as a cause, inverts time; and the inversion of time is evil.

The Nature of the Sciences

I. The spatio-temporal elements are introduced as constants: Geography – History

II. Space and time are separated: Development of variables

a) space elements: geometry, cosmography;

b) time elements: physics.

The most important mistakes of Kant:

1. The neglect of the meaning of time;

2. That he makes no distinction between the reality of the inner and outer life;

3. On a theoretical level, he wanted to know nothing of those things possessing a higher reality.

Boredom and impatience are the most immoral emotions there can be. For man sets time as real in them: he wants it to pass without him having to fill it, without it being mere phenomenal form of his inner liberation and extension, mere form in which he must strive to be realised, but rather independent from him, and he dependent on it. Boredom is at the same time the need to annul time from outside, and the longing for the devil’s work.

Sympathy is immoral (let alone the foundation of morality) because it aims to create pleasure, not worth. (Pleasure is dependent on conditions, worth is never dependent on conditions.) Pain is here no doubt directly seen, but negated; and pleasure directly willed, without affirming worth, as in respect.

Cruelty: the desire to make pain real (to exclusive reality), instead of placing desire with “freedom-worth”. All cruel people have a uniquely pained face; because their being signifies precisely the condition of pain.

The older a person becomes, the more he looks into the future, not only into the past. The child has absolutely no relationship to his future.

Is the ocean due to the rivers, or the rivers due to the ocean? Who would decide that? So is it between God and man. The ocean wills the rivers, the river wills the ocean.

The problem of the sick person is the problem of space.

The problem of the criminal is the problem of time.

The criminal dies from inside (time), the sick person from outside (space). Epilepsy must also be connected with time.

Howling gale in Macbeth: fate conquers and devours man.

Because time is uni-directional, we are less interested in the state before our birth. Our birth sets something new, begins a new sequence.

Dualism lies in the fact that we do not create the sensations about which we think.

Vegetarians are just as mistaken as their opponents. If you did not want to contribute to the killing of living beings, you could only drink milk, for whoever eats fruit or eggs still kills embryos. Milk is perhaps for that reason the healthiest food, because it is the most ethical.

Man cannot even bear to look into the sun – so weak and immature is he.

Birth is cowardice: connecting to other people, because one does not have the courage to be oneself. That is why one seeks refuge in the womb.

The present is as spaceless as it is timeless; and the goal of humanity can be defined as mere-prescence, as omnipresence (one usually understands omnipresence only as freedom from space, instead of understanding it as also including the absorption of past and future, of everything unconscious in the conscious present). The narrowness of consciousness should contain the universe: only then is man “eternally young” and perfected.

Genius is, in its essence, nothing but the full completion of the idea of a man, and, therefore, every man ought to have some quality of it, and it should be regarded as a possible principle for every one. Genius is the highest morality, and, therefore, it is every one's duty. Genius is to be attained by a supreme act of the will, in which the whole universe is affirmed in the individual. Genius is something which 'men of genius' take upon themselves; it is the greatest exertion and the greatest pride, the greatest misery and the greatest ecstasy to a man. A man may become a genius if he wishes to.

But at once it will certainly be said: "Very many men would like very much to be 'original geniuses,'" and their wish has no effect. But if these men who "would like very much" had a livelier sense of what is signified by their wish, if they were aware that genius is identical with universal responsibility - and until that is grasped it will only be a wish and not a determination - it is highly probable that a very large number of these men would cease to wish to become geniuses.

Ho Ho Ho!

i thought i'd write a pomm
what with
it
being a festive time and all that

and
it
being my heart's desire

but then
i had this.

ah well!
screw you!
publish this. i shall.

love all.

Merry Chrismukkah my Judas Priests!

Bhabte Bhalobashi

Chevrolet spark garita 21/1, Marine Lines’r birat baritar uchu lohar gate-r samne eshe daralo. Ami chalachhyi garita. ‘Where the hell has all the securities gone??? How long shall I wait here?’ bhabne ta sesh ne hotei royal blue urdi pora akjon eshe gate ta khule dilo. I made my way in. Nameplate ta chokhe pore galo, dekhte pelam lekha REEJU PATHAK. Gorbe buk ta bhore galo. Foara ta par kore garita garage-r samne rekhe neme elam ebong prohori ke bollam garita dhokate baron kore barir bhitor dhuklam. Ranna ghar ta dhu mere elam, OMG! Kochur shak ar chitol machher muithya!!!

Ak doure upore Ammar ghare dhukei bollam,’tomar liga Uttam-Suchitra-r dosh ga cinemar CD anchhi. Ami chalaye dimu dupure dekhba. Ami aj akjon top notch Bollywood hero. Last month ei barita kinechhi.Gato saptahe amma esechhe amar kachhe,agamikal baba-ma aschhe. I’ve won this year’s Filmfare award for the best actor ar tar honor-e aj ratre akta party ache barite.

Pray rat duto. Sob guests ra chole gechhe. Amma-o ghumie porechhe. Kal to Sunday, deri kore ghum vangar din. Chhade chole gelam. Takalam sohor tar dike. Ato rat tobuo Arob sagorer buker upor ei sohor tar kono klanti nei. Dure paharer halka chhaya chokhe porchhe. Dheu-er awaz kane bheshe aschhe ar tar songe mone porchhe Kolkata ke. Kamon achho Kolkata???

Akhonno ki Nandan-er jalashayer pachil tar upor boshle fine kora hoy?Lake market-er oi south Indian restaurant ta akhono ache? Ar Ujjala chanachur line die loke kene akhono? Chowranghi-r footpath-e ajo bujhi rongin chashma gulo bikri hoy jegulo rongin sapno dakhay? Ar amar university-se kamon ache?Rat jaga Beatles ar Dylan der kallole mukhorito thake to gota jaygata naki sobar miukhei aj nirobotar dak? Sob bhabna ke hothat elomelo bhabe bhijie dilo brishtir jol. Phire elem Mumbai te. Ei sahor tao to amay nam, dham, jash-diechhe. Eo to amar kachhe bhalobasar ar ak nam. Bhor hoye gachhe. Pray 4.30 baje. Ghare eshe shue porlam, weather ta thanda thakay ac ta chalalam na.

Ato garom lagchhe kano? Fan ta to shobar age off korini ami. Uthe dekhi Nando masi ghar jhat dite eshechhe tai pakha bandho. Eki amar ghare green carpet ta kothay udhao holo? Ammar gola bheshe elo,’kire uithya boisha achhos kan? Mukh dhue ne.’ Mone pore galo Birpurusher sei line ta-Roj koto ki ghote jaha taha,amon kano sotyi hoyna aha!!!

(Contributed by Reeju)

Bombaiyer Bombete

Mumbai 26/11













A city under seige









The Majestic Taj devoured in the flames of terror














Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan who lost his life during the rescue operation



The AHM team mourns the victims of 26/11 and expresses its solidarity with their families.Even as documentaries give chilling information of how the Pak handlers told the terrorists to 'keep praying n killing', a year has passed away in silence and vicious political blame games.But has any real action been taken?The Shakespearean echo "Oh Justice! thou art fled to brutish beasts?And men have lost their reason" is still very much pertinent.Why do people kill in cold blood in the name of religion?Can we safely say that this terrorist attack was the last of its kind?As we wake up every morning, do we really feel safe or are we living life on the edge in 'fear of the dark'?



(In memory of the victims of 26/11)
-The AHM Team

Become a dream

Get thee to a nunnery
Where our love can long endure
Where I will always be your God
And you always be mine
And like gods we'll play in Heaven
Till the end of time.


(Sent in by Rudraksh)

Letters in snow

-for R


A soft word frozen in her snowblue eyes
Sounds which linger in the winter sky
None but silence at the heart of time
Lips that kiss must learn to lie


(Posted by Deeptesh)

Bondhu

bondhu maane PNPC raat-birete phone,
bondhu maane pashe thaka no-tension zone.
bondhu maane parar more phuchka khete jaoa
ektukhani deoar majhe onek khani paoa.

bondhu maane class-er phake dedar adda mara,
bondhu maane soa nota-r prothom bus-ta chara,
bondhu maane durgapuja-i thakur dekhte jaoa
bondhu maane ondhokaare alor disha paoa.

bondhu maane school-building paashe khelar maath,
bondhu maane coaching-class-e style dekhanor thaat,
bondhu maane deshopriyoi prothom cricket match---
bondhu maane chouko frame-e (dui)hajaar saat-er batch.

bondhu chara physics test-e paasher to nei jo,
bondhu maanei menoka-te first day first show,
bondhu manei school-jibone prothom proxy deoa,
miss kora practical-er notes-ta niye neoa.

bondhu maane borshakal-e ek chilte rod,
bondhu maane ei jibone khanikta rinshodh
bondhu chara ekla aami ei nagorik bhire,
bhanga danaar pakhi jeno phirchi nostoneere


(this was composed 2days before my ICSE was about to commence)

(Sent in by Reeju. We would like to add though that some Joodians reckon this is a popular text forward. In that case, we suppose, Reeju takes credit for circulating it in the first place! )

How I Failed The Webmaster

if i could,
my friend in flames,
i would write poetry for you.
i would have been
bukowski, ginsberg and neruda
put in one

and you could have been
linda king, peter orlovsky
or whichever cuban beauty
you pick.
yes, i would have even let you choose!

but alas,
my dimwitted scribbling skills
permit me no such glory.
and i fail you,
despite the late night gtalk pestering
that are,
i assure you,
the highlight of my day.

believe you me,
when i am off drowning myself
in browning,
or in my lame-ass boyfraaand,
all i can hope for
is for you to annoy the hell out of me,
dear friend.

apparently,
even katrina kaif can
speak in hindi lately -
"tum bahut achhi ho. i like you." -
she says to a flustered ranbir.
and even the blind man
who turns me into a philanthop
every day abroad K-3
can cross tollygunge phari without help.
but i can't,
for the love of me,
or that of the "worlds",
"birds" and "birdcatchers",

bring myself to write for you.


i guess,
i can't,
because
i have seen at the heart of the mirage.

and there is nothing there.


except deeptesh sen maybe.

~~~

(If I have to tell you who I am,
then all my love for thee,
Little Dee,
has failed.

Love lav.)

Random Thoughts

(Please read the last paragraph before beginning)



No man is or can be absolutely neutral. I often hear people saying,’ami konodikei noi’ is nothing but absolute crap. I believe and am sure enough that every man is inclined in some direction or the other and these types of statements are the easiest head turners and nod seekers.

Some men loves to be worshiped, however ‘atheist’ he might be. He who houses such desires surprisingly gets hold of a group who are more than happy to deify that person and it is even more surprising to find that these people can never accept their defeat or are rather chicken hearted to do so. And these people in the long run end up being the biggest loser.

There is no absolute belief. What I believe in today with all heart can turn out to be the greatest unbelief of tomorrow and that drastic changes in belief causes a lot of agony. It is true that men love to stick to unfaltering believes, but when these believes fail them, they suffer from excruciating pain that is beyond articulation.

There are some who don’t, some who can’t and some who make no efforts to understand. Among these three the most interesting are the ones who belong to the last category. They are the ones in a twilight zone. They either have excess intelligence that trips down the over brimmed cup and thus all their precious time is wasted in recollecting those fallen drops or their empty headedness is to such alarming degree that all their time is spent in understanding what to understand.

There is no problem under the sun that cannot be solved and no solution is the perfect solution to any problem



Writing essays, poems, songs, short stories, novels, discourses, dissertations, theses, lectures and what not is still somehow achievable but drama—‘noibo noibo cho’. It is perhaps the most difficult among these and those who accomplish in this Herculean task are blessed souls I must say.

People tend to become less serious with each passing day contrary to what is popularly believed as age instills maturity(that no belief is absolute is perhaps established).

‘Jai Ho’ concert was not overwhelmingly impressive but obviously entertaining and paisa wasool not withstanding those few dozens of expletives that some very music lovers used on and off when a laralappa track shifted to a softer one.

I was literally in tears on two very recent occasions: Firstly, when the author of the drama ‘WIRE’ was introduced before the audience by Dr. Lal and secondly, when I saw Rahman touching the Harmonium and offering his ‘pronam’ (I’m either unaware of the English term or currently unable to recollect from my poor memory). Music students can very well relate to my emotion.

My PC has been infested with 124 unfixable, unquarantinable and undeletable bugs and is in a state of incubation period that will make transition to a state of bug flu and there is no tami flu for its cure.

I detest people who don’t read fiction and I equally detest those who read nothing other than academic texts.

I’m in plain and simple terms a stupid, headless bloke who is stupid enough to write these stupid things but it’s also a matter of fact that I would rather happily keep embracing stupidity than be a goddamned intellectual or in better words an ‘atel-ectual’.

‘Kartik masher sesh ar ohono thandar nam gandho nai’ is what my soul mate, my grand mom is saying these days. I distinctly remember those days when Kali pujo’s night would be the first ‘katha gaye debar’ night and the subsequent days would subsequently gain in chill momentum. Those were the days! God knows what went sour in the relationship between Kolkata and winter.

Those who are reserved by nature are in reality very open and candid. Their reticence is situation specific, the right situation can bring out the most talkative from an otherwise quiet person

I don’t understand the meaning or rather the ocean of meanings associated with words ending in ‘ism’ viz- romanticism, transcendentalism, nihilism and so on. I have high respect for those who have mastered in these understandings.

Political parties who believe in constitutional form of government can never serve any fruitful purpose for any nation and thus no progress (if that is a suitable term) can ever be achieved. It holds good for India and hence West Bengal too. The deplorable and highly contemptible state of affairs that the Congress dwelled in bore fruit for CPIM to find their way in people’s heart and today when the so called communists’ uncovering of their ugly face is the perfect Sun that TMC is using to make hay and the cycle goes on….

Few thoughts on Tagore- Firstly, obsession with Tagore is perhaps the sweetest disease that one should at some point in their life get. It is that supreme disease which serves as the healer to every worldly disease.

Secondly Rabindranath is one such name that can be possessed by only one man in this world and no individual how popular he might be is entitled to use that name. Hence I hate people like Rabindranath Basu, Rabindranath Chatterjee or Rabindranath Bag.

Thirdly Rabindrasangeet cannot be taught. Schools which proclaim themselves as the hub of Rabindrasangeet are the most goddamned institutes who teach nothing more than ‘komol Ni’ or ‘kori Ma’. They extract the plethora of essence from those songs and throw them into Adi Ganga.

Hindi movies jug jug jiyo is what I keep saying how disapproving and bally it might sound to my fellow JUDEans.

I detest those who stay in India, are born and brought up in India and shall keep staying here for their lifetime yet everything Indian is,’ my foot’ and everything western is, ‘OMG!’ to them. The only feeling that goes out for them is sheer pity.

Two equally talented people can never exist in partnership (exceptions not in consideration). There is bound to be clashes on some issues or the other and that steadily loosens the bond. I don’t know about relationships but it definitely true for people in partnership enterprise ( Jatin-Lalit, Sidhu-Pota)

God is very much in existence and is an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent being. This is not what I believe in but Trust. I feel no absolute compulsions to provide any sort of ‘koifiot’ to those who don’t think like me and I also feel that there is no necessity for anyone to justify their point of view however challenging it might seem.

The first time smokers make it a point to make their new activity a very surreptitious one out of a very strange reason. They fear being an outcaste among their kinship but never fear their quickly approaching end. It is as if the tag of a smoker will lower their image or reputation without once caring for the real cause. How very strange!!!

No matter how old a resident of Salt Lake a person is, he/she is bound to get lost in the infinite labyrinth of that mysterious lake at some point of time.

Bengalis had always referred to this city as Kolkata from time immemorial and for the Nons it was always and still is Calcutta. Thus the official change in name has served no purpose in reality except the envelopes reading ‘Kolkata’.

No night club in Kolkata houses as lousy and loathsome crowd as ‘Sisha’ does. One who has been to Sisha on any 31st night will surely empathize with me.

All those who sport long, jhakra chul are bound to be guitarists or are in the making. Our own Lal bears testimony to my claim.

If ‘bad hair day’ is not a gender specific term then I must say that I’m having a bad hair year. My hair is growing and growing and I’m too lazy to put a stop to that growth and it is reaching a state of ultimate unkemptness. It’s high time I must do something with it.

An egalitarian society can never be realized in practice and my hopes of a ‘srenihin samaj’ shall never drown however obscure, impractical or unattainable it might seem.

Marx never said or wrote that those who believe in his philosophy should necessarily be an atheist. Thus those who flaunt their atheism on virtue of believing in communism are fools. The real aim of a communist is to set oneself in a voyage in search of ‘Jiboner mane or Beche thakar mane’. And I must say that being a communist is not as easy a task to accomplish as in saying. I believe in communism but am not a communist because I don’t possess that enormous strength.

JU people in general are of extreme types. They either listen to or practice hardcore rock, punk, metal, death metal and what not or Bhajogourango, Krishno korle lila. There are very few who tread the middle path.

‘Manusher protio bishyash harano paap’ ia what I would love to believe in but the absolute futility of the term ‘bishyash’ instills such fear in me that I beg to differ with Tagore and would rather pile up my bag with ‘paap’.

Institutions of any sort tend to get on my nerves after a certain period of time. While in school longing for college days and now in university am looking forward to the day when I’ll draw my first salary. Present never satiates me and future keeps enticing me.

‘Engendering mediocrity since 2004’ is what one of the boards in our department reads and the very sight of it on the very first day filled me with immense joy. Relieved to learn that people of retarded mental faculties do exist in this otherwise intellectual atmosphere.

I stand apart from the rest of JUDE in one aspect if not more. I cannot stand Harry Potter. To me it challenges all sorts of mental, physical, psychological, logical faculties. I keep wondering what enigma glues so many people to that epitome of madness and eccentricity. Thank God it has finally come to an end.

I fail to understand why roadside pay and use toilets are referred to as ‘sulabh’. Don’t we all know that the terms sulabh and toilet are not even remotely close to each other in meaning???

If it is true that we were indeed over marked in our schooldays then why are we under marked in our college days? Can students never expect to be judiciously marked???

Sweety, Monica, champa are names which are a very commonplace among hookers is what I feel and io despise girls who possess such names but do not belong the race of lip painters.

The more I keep digging my brains the more such maddening thoughts are going to spring up. So I must stop digging. Before ending(beginning) I must say that these are all very personal opinions of me and intends no offence in any form to anyone.


(Sent in by Reeju)






--

The lovers' notebook-extract 1

“There you go again…..fretting about your next assignment on Coleridge. Here we are having the time of our lives with no nagging thoughts of classes to attend or our imminent first sem which I’m sure to screw up and you’ve nothing better to talk about than an extinct nineteenth century opium addict”. We were at the Green Zone, lying lazily down on the soft grass at an hour when classes and assignments were in full swing and the more studious types were surely slogging it out in the DL behind abominably thick volume of books ~ the lush green scenery around us was occupied only by the gone-to-the-dogs couples like us and the occasional gardener or the rag-picker. Amalina lit her cigarette and for sometime watched the rings engulf the silence like a mock epic. Her lips were curled up in thought, her skin tight kurti clung onto her with sweat in the mild November heat and a single strand of her hair had somehow managed to get entangled with her dainty earring……..she was not fair enough to be called pretty but possessed a quick wit and sense of feminine smartness enough to call her sexy.


She placed her hand soothingly on my shoulder and I jerked away with a sense of guilt under the impact of the momentary electric touch. “Amalina”, I reminded her in a baritone voice, “this is a public place.” “What are you..”, she reproached, “one of those I’ll-pee-if-u-touch-me prototypes? I can’t imagine what’s with you men. All what you think of is the body and yet in public you will feign to be one of those platonic touch-me- not, forget-me-not souls”. I voiced a raucous protest but couldn’t quite refute the truth in her argument. “So Amalina, you want to be a scientist?” I quizzed her not finding any other suitable way to bring about a change in the uncomfortable topic. “Me?” she exclaimed in a frenzy as if I had suggested her to join Al Qaedia the very next day.” “Not really” she laughed it off nonchalantly, “I’m happy with what I’m.” What she meant by that was well beyond my level of comprehension. “You want to remain a student……?” “No fathead”, she smiled, “I meant I’m happy to live in the present. We humans at times tend to dwell too much on the past or future.” She had a point. “Like you might be thinking now”, she continued, “Why I called deepteshpoetry a failure yesterday or what will happen to you in the future as you are wasting time with this godforsaken girlfriend of yours? But I’m damn sure that of all things right now you are not thinking of the present”. Girls like Amalina save the trouble of explanation at times because more often they guess everything and guess everything correctly. And when you put together her ready wit and devilishly good looks, I must admit she is a complete package of enviable attributes. “But that is not what I was thinking” I protested. But she was lost in some other world.


“Our society is always wrong”, she resumed. “Why?” I mused, “Now what did this society do to you? I find no apparent connections darling”. “My dear Rajesh” she began with an extraordinary sense of calm which was often followed by a violent rhetoric of threat, “I say why do you freak out when I hug you in your so called ‘public place’?” “Because we are still not married”, I blurted out. “Exactly so”, she continued candidly “and once we marry it’ll be absolutely legal to hug or kiss and even make love?” “I guess so” I shivered at her hint of matrimony or possible motherhood, “We’ll have the right to”. “That’s the catchword dear”, she said, “‘Right’. Simply because we’ll be married….that is we will go through some religious and societal shit in a temple and then we’ll have the right. So is marriage just a license to make love? Don’t you think the fact that we love each other makes it reason enough to believe that we’re married from our minds? Then people might as well go fuck in a whorehouse!” “Amalina I say I’m hungry. I’m heading off to Milanda’s place.” “I have a class to attend in fifteen minutes” she said , “ Can’t miss GB’s lecture. But don’t forget to turn up on time at the Park Street crossing tomorrow. I’ve some shopping to do for mama and will then dine out”. “But-“ I started protesting. She was already gone. I started walking back towards the Arts’ Building slowly wondering about what she had told me. As always, she had a point.




(……to be continued)


(Posted by Deeptesh)

Clad in one green hue

(Sent in by Arunita)

Joy

The holy man is never rejoiced: he is joy itself. – Meister Eckhart.

Woe to me! Whither hath time gone? Have I not sunk into deep wells? The

world sleepeth--

Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth. Rather will I die, rather

will I die, than say unto you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.

Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, why spinnest thou around me?

Wilt thou have blood? Ah! Ah! The dew falleth, the hour cometh--

--The hour in which I frost and freeze, which asketh and asketh and asketh:

"Who hath sufficient courage for it?

--Who is to be master of the world? Who is going to say: THUS shall ye

flow, ye great and small streams!"

--The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher man, take heed! this talk is

for fine ears, for thine ears--WHAT SAITH DEEP MIDNIGHT'S VOICE INDEED?

It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Day's-work! Day's-work! Who is to

be master of the world?

The moon is cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah! Have ye already flown high

enough? Ye have danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not a wing.

Ye good dancers, now is all delight over: wine hath become lees, every cup

hath become brittle, the sepulchres mutter.

Ye have not flown high enough: now do the sepulchres mutter: "Free the

dead! Why is it so long a night? Doth not the moon make us drunken?"

Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the corpses! Ah, why doth the

worm still burrow? There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour,--

--There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth still the heart, there

burroweth still the wood-worm, the heart-worm. Ah! Ah! THE WORLD IS

DEEP!

Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy drunken, ranunculine tone!--

how long, how far hath come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from the

ponds of love!

Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain hath torn thy heart,

father’s-pain, fathers'-pain, forefathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe,--

--Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon, like mine anchorite heart

--now sayest thou: The world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth

brown,

--Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness. Ye higher men, do ye not

feel it? There welleth up mysteriously an odour,

--A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed, brown, gold-wine-odour

of old happiness,

--Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which singeth: the world is deep,

AND DEEPER THAN THE DAY COULD READ!

Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am too pure for thee. Touch me not!

Hath not my world just now become perfect?

My skin is too pure for thy hands. Leave me alone, thou dull, doltish,

stupid day! Is not the midnight brighter?

The purest are to be masters of the world, the least known, the strongest,

the midnight-souls, who are brighter and deeper than any day.

O day, thou gropest for me? Thou feelest for my happiness? For thee am I

rich, lonesome, a treasure-pit, a gold chamber?

O world, thou wantest ME? Am I worldly for thee? Am I spiritual for thee?

Am I divine for thee? But day and world, ye are too coarse,--

--Have cleverer hands, grasp after deeper happiness, after deeper

unhappiness, grasp after some God; grasp not after me:

--Mine unhappiness, my happiness is deep, thou strange day, but yet am I no

God, no God's-hell: DEEP IS ITS WOE.

God's woe is deeper, thou strange world! Grasp at God's woe, not at me!

What am I! A drunken sweet lyre,--

--A midnight-lyre, a bell-frog, which no one understandeth, but which MUST speak before deaf ones, ye higher men! For ye do not understand me!

Gone! Gone! O youth! O noontide! O afternoon! Now have come evening

and night and midnight,--the dog howleth, the wind:

--Is the wind not a dog? It whineth, it barketh, it howleth. Ah! Ah! how

she sigheth! how she laugheth, how she wheezeth and panteth, the midnight!

How she just now speaketh soberly, this drunken poetess! hath she perhaps

overdrunk her drunkenness? hath she become overawake? doth she ruminate?

--Her woe doth she ruminate over, in a dream, the old, deep midnight--and

still more her joy. For joy, although woe be deep, JOY IS DEEPER STILL

THAN GRIEF CAN BE.

Thou grape-vine! Why dost thou praise me? Have I not cut thee! I am

cruel, thou bleedest--: what meaneth thy praise of my drunken cruelty?

"Whatever hath become perfect, everything mature--wanteth to die!" so

sayest thou. Blessed, blessed be the vintner's knife! But everything

immature wanteth to live: alas!

Woe saith: "Hence! Go! Away, thou woe!" But everything that suffereth

wanteth to live, that it may become mature and lively and longing,

--Longing for the further, the higher, the brighter. "I want heirs," so

saith everything that suffereth, "I want children, I do not want MYSELF,"--

Joy, however, doth not want heirs, it doth not want children,--joy wanteth

itself, it wanteth eternity, it wanteth recurrence, it wanteth everything

eternally-like-itself.

Woe saith: "Break, bleed, thou heart! Wander, thou leg! Thou wing, fly!

Onward! upward! thou pain!" Well! Cheer up! O mine heart: WOE

SAITH: "HENCE! GO!"

Ye higher men, what think ye? Am I a soothsayer? Or a dreamer? Or a

drunkard? Or a dream-reader? Or a midnight-bell?

Or a drop of dew? Or a fume and fragrance of eternity? Hear ye it not?

Smell ye it not? Just now hath my world become perfect, midnight is also

mid-day,--

Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night is also a sun,--go

away! or ye will learn that a sage is also a fool.

Said ye ever Yea to one joy? O my friends, then said ye Yea also unto ALL

woe. All things are enlinked, enlaced and enamoured,--

--Wanted ye ever once to come twice; said ye ever: "Thou pleasest me,

happiness! Instant! Moment!" then wanted ye ALL to come back again!

--All anew, all eternal, all enlinked, enlaced and enamoured, Oh, then did

ye LOVE the world,--

--Ye eternal ones, ye love it eternally and for all time: and also unto

woe do ye say: Hence! Go! but come back! FOR JOYS ALL WANT--ETERNITY!

All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it wanteth honey, it wanteth

lees, it wanteth drunken midnight, it wanteth graves, it wanteth grave-

tears' consolation, it wanteth gilded evening-red--

--WHAT doth not joy want! it is thirstier, heartier, hungrier, more

frightful, more mysterious, than all woe: it wanteth ITSELF, it biteth

into ITSELF, the ring's will writheth in it,--

--It wanteth love, it wanteth hate, it is over-rich, it bestoweth, it

throweth away, it beggeth for some one to take from it, it thanketh the

taker, it would fain be hated,--

--So rich is joy that it thirsteth for woe, for hell, for hate, for shame,

for the lame, for the WORLD,--for this world, Oh, ye know it indeed!

Ye higher men, for you doth it long, this joy, this irrepressible, blessed

joy--for your woe, ye failures! For failures, longeth all eternal joy.

For joys all want themselves, therefore do they also want grief! O

happiness, O pain! Oh break, thou heart! Ye higher men, do learn it, that

joys want eternity.

--Joys want the eternity of ALL things, they WANT DEEP, PROFOUND ETERNITY!

(Sent in by Rudraksh)

The philosopher's ideals.......

1. Only Fool! Only Poet!



In the fading light of dusk,

When the dew’s solace begins

To well down to the earth,

Invisible, as well as unheard —

For the comforter dew slips on

Delicate footwear as all gentle consolers —

Then do you remember, hot heart, remember

How once you thirsted

After heavenly tears and dewdrops,

Scorched and weary, thirsting

While on yellow paths of grass

The spiteful evening glances of the sun

Ran around you through black trees,

Glowing sun-glances, dazzling with malicious delight.



“The suitor of truth—you?"—thus they mocked me —

"No! Only a poet!

A cunning, plundering, stealthy beast,

That must lie,

That knowingly, willingly must lie,

Lusting after prey,

Colorfully masked,

Self-shrouded,

Prey for itself

This—the suitor of truth? ...

Only fool! Only poet!

Merely speaking colorfully,

From fools’ masks shouting colorfully,

Climbing about on deceptive word-bridges,

On misleading rainbows,

Between false heavens

Rambling, lurking —

Only fool! Only poet!



This—the suitor of truth? ...



Not still, stiff, smooth, cold,

Become an image,

A pillar of God,

Not set up before temples,

A god’s gatekeeper:

No! hostile to all such truth statues,

More at home in any desert than in temples,

Fraught with cats’ mischief,

Leaping through every window

Swiftly! into every chance,

Sniffing for every jungle,

That you in jungles

Among motley-shagged beasts of prey

Would run sinfully sound and beautiful and colorful,

With lusting animal lips,

Blissfully sneering, blissfully hellish, blissfully bloodthirsty,

Plundering, prowling, lying would run ...



Or like the eagle that, for a long time,

A long time gazes with a fixed stare into abysses,

Into its abysses ...

— Oh how they spiral downward,

Down, down under,

Into ever deeper depths! —

Then,

Suddenly,

Plummeting straight down

Wings pulled out

To pounce on lambs,

Right down, hot-hungry,

Lusting for lambs,

Hating all lamb-souls,

Grimly hating whatever looks

Virtuous, sheepish, curly-wooled,

Dull, with lambs’ milk-goodwill ...



Thus,

Eagle-like, panther-like,

Are the poet’s longings,

Are your longings under a thousand masks,

You fool! You poet!...



You that have looked upon man

As god and as sheep —

Tearing to pieces the god in man

As well as the sheep in man,

And laughing while tearing —



This, this is your bliss,

A panther’s and eagle’s bliss,

A poet’s and fool’s bliss!” ...



In the fading light of dusk,

When just as the moon’s sickle

In between green and crimson-reds

Enviously creeps —

The day’s enemy,

With every stealthy step

At rose hammocks

Scything, till they sink,

Sink down pale in nightfall:



Thus I myself once sank,

Out of my truth-madness,

Out of my day-longings,

Weary of day, sick from the light —

Sank downward, eveningward, shadowward,

By one truth

Burnt and thirsty —

Do you still remember, hot heart, remember

How you thirsted then? —

That I be exiled

From all truth!

Only fool!

Only poet!...


2. Is Divinity all philosophy and no logic?


(This doesn't just apply to the Abrahamic "God", but all forms of God, whether it be "Universal Power", "Universal Life Force", "Universal Mother Goddess" - whatever. I shall be using "Christian God" only for the sake of convenience)

That which Christians call "God" must logically be one of the following two things:

1. The Totality, the sum total of the All, the Infinity of Existence, the totality of Nature.

or

2. Something less than the Totality.

There is logically no third alternative. It is one or the other. It is not possible to be more than the Totality, because the Totality, by definition, includes everything.

Now, the God that is identical with the Totality of all things may possibly be believed by some pantheists, but would not be believed in by many who would call themselves Christian. So, the God whose possible existence we need to examine is the second of the two alternatives - i.e., a God who is something less than the Totality.

Now is it possible for a "God" who is less than the Totality to be everything that Christians conceive him to be?

Christians conceive their God to be all-powerful - "omnipotent" - and all-knowing - "omniscient". And Christians consider their God to be the creator of all things.

So is it possible for a being who is something less than the Totality of all things to be the creator of all things and have power over all things? No. It is not logically possible. A limited being cannot reach everything (by definition).

Is it possible for a being who is something less than the Totality of all things to be everywhere at once and to know all details about all things? No. It is not logically possible. A limited being cannot reach everything.

Thus the God of the common Christian is a logical impossibility and can never be more than a figment of the imagination. And just as a dream can be experienced, while having no logical coherence, and no reality beyond the imagination - so can the Christian experience his God.

Possible objections:

The God I believe in is not literally all powerful, He is merely powerful enough to do all that He chooses to do. That is, if he doesn't know everything, it is because he chooses not to.

Response: This does not escape the fact mentioned above, that a being who is less than the totality cannot possibly create all things, and have power over all things, as a limited being cannot reach everything. The God you believe in could not know everything about all things, even if he wanted to.



(AHM: Sent in by Rudraksh. Both the articles have been clubbed together for our convenience.Please note that here on AHM we don't promote blasphemy....neither do we want to hurt the religious feelings of people.But the last article has been published merely as a logical and philosophical discourse on divinity and more importantly as a piece of true art.We don't necessarily share certain particular religious, social or political views of the writers who contribute to this blog and remain a sincerely unbiased forum.We do believe in making the 'pent up voices of JUDE' reach your ears and hence stand for true artistic freedom.)