neat stuff

for classical music enthusiasts here

hmm

"Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the debt ?" — Last words of Socrates
this guy was smart, but don't try that with your credit card debt.

10 Feb 2004

cried the other night,
I can't even say why
- Daysleeper , UP, R.E.M

I never thought I'd see the little monkey again.

On the shore of a blue sea sits a little town. It is untouched by the haste that seems to be the modern world's most popular invention, coconut trees and tile-roof houses adorn its face.
In one such house lives a little boy. The fiery fingers of the sun stroke the land but grimy aged tiles protect the boy playing in the hall beneath. In a shelf by the wall, large dusty bound volumes slumber undisturbed. The boy's father nurses a hope that one day the boy will read them all and discover them for the friends just as he did long ago, but for now, the boy is busy with his toy cars.
Outside, the streets are deceptively quiet . The coconut trees and other tall trees whose names I do not know nod importantly to each other, murmuring quietly in reply to the nudging breeze . Come evenings, kids come out of their homes, play their games and then swiftly disappear. Cable t.v is still a myth and evening play is still The Most Important Thing to Do.
In the morning, Mother, who is In-Charge-of-Goodies and Food , is busy in the kitchen so that Dad-who-knows-everything-and-also-happens-be-the-Strongest can go off to a far-off place for Work, in a Bus.And the little boy walks down to his school and the day gets underway, like the many others.
The shiny green leaves of the million new sprouts sing defiantlythe song of life, for it is Spring, and its hum is almost perceptible. Come sunset the blue sea sends breezes to cool off the people. The little boy sits in the verandah narrating his Oh-So-Important doings at school .
Then one day, the postman's visit portends a Relative's visit. The boy rushes home from school one day to find the Relative has arrived. With a Toy for him. Suddenly, the house glows with excitement as the little boy,enthused turns into a lttle monkeyand grow a tail. He then jumps all around the place driving the parents nuts, and becomes a little bundle of energy the mother despairs to control. The Relative is promptly given an old Gun and made to play Bad guy.
Mother and Father would haul the relative off to see The Beach, which was the town's only place-worth-seeing, apart from a Temple, which is a Must-Go the little monkey can't figure out why. Then one weekend, the family would troop off to the station and the the Relative would get into a train. And the little monkey would in vain try to keep the lump in his throat from reaching his eyes as the train pulls away.The father would hoist the little monkey onto his shoulders so that he could see the Relative wave until the train goes out of sight. They would then come back to an empty and silent house to begin another stretch of the mundane, and the tail would droop steadily and fall off and the little boy would be back again. And Time would roll on.

I now live in a big city away from home, working. People have come and gone, and all my friends are in places other than here doing their stuf while I do mine. Mother and Father are no more invincible beings of light and love. They're frail , afraid of old age, weak,lonely. Phones and the internet help, but there is always a gap left after each call. One gets used to the pushing-shoving face of life, becomes used to loneliness, even in a big city teeming with millions.One learns to ignore stuff for other stuff, and to call it focus. Learns to hunger for money.and fame.Things. And steadily forget the painfully happy memories of childhood.

But things do brighten up when a friend comes a-visiting, like one did this weekend. Then one also learns that making ginger-tea for just oneself is not so interesting as it is when one has cherished company. We talked late into the night. we discussed life and work and money and gyan and girls, and other pet things like kishore-da's music and millionaire-by-thirty schemes. We discussed old times and old people and the gags we'd pulled on them . And when we parted company and I waved goodbye and let myself back into my empty rented flat, for a moment I thought I could see that tail, see it droop ....

it's twelve again

bright lights , grey roads, silent cars, chilly wind, white snow, blue skies ...
warm thoughts, dreams in gold, cold rooms
empty halls, bustling cubicles, ticking clocks, black coffee, junk food ...
quiet lakes, sqawking geese
half-full days, half-empty parking lots, grey concrete, black tar, a lonely bridge, lonely trees ,
a solitary lamp-post and its pool of light ...
tired thoughts jaded hearts fresh eyes

midnight again Cinders, time to go

the universe abounds in beautiful things

laid to waste by those who are supposed to be the guardians...

"Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part."

- Morgan Freeman as 'William Somerset' in "Seven"


( the film's closing line,actually )

A few good things

about this Age ...

• wikipedia
• project gutenberg
• sacred-texts internet archive

a copy of a copy of a copy

is still relevant today.

"The condition of man is already close to satiety and arrogance, and there is danger of destruction of everything in existence."- a Brahmin to Onesicritus, 327 BC, reported in Strabo's Geography

The time is ripe for the birth of a "Second Foundation" ...

the Tao that can be spoken of ....

is not the true Tao :
but it certainly does get spoken about a lot, doesn't it ... ?
mysterious are its ways ....

alice .....

wandering up and down, and trying turn afterturn, but always coming back to the house, do what she would