How true!

"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."

- Nietzsche

Have you?

Have you ever felt unhappy being you?
Wondered what clouds hold... what sign... what clue;
Oscillated between realities: straight, twisted, false, true;
Have you ever felt unhappy being you?

boredom / fear / irritation / confusion

Consumed by the evening's masterpiece

Completely introverted

From here I could stare down eternity

leave alone and not feel deserted

I'm tired of interesting faces

And the dull ones make my weep

Don't ask me what my sign is

Instant intimacy runs cheap

- Joan Baez

mad song

"Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
and with night will go"

- William Blake

I'm pointlessly angry... but so very angry...

ain't that cool?

Saw this painted on a streetside wall in Manila (the Philippines):

"No Child Abuse... No Domestic Violence"

And what amazed me the most was that this was part of a campaign of a politician... she has these two issues on the top of her election manifesto... and I was like "WOW!"... won't it be even wower when elections in India too are fought and parliament seats are sought based on such issue-based politics!!

Workshop on Art Therapy

My organisation, Tulir - Centre for the Prevention & Healing of Child Sexual Abuse, is organising a half-day workshop on Introduction to Art Therapy with Emotionally Disturbed Children on the 25th of Feb, 2006 in Chennai. To be facilitated by an expert art therapist, the workshop would especially be useful for professionals working with children, such as social workers, psychologists, therapists, counsellors and teachers. Interested folks may contact 26632026 or tulircphcsa@yahoo.co.in by 24th Feb for more info.

how do i look?

bigness of small wonders...
changed my blog look...
am damn kicked...

bliss...

new feminist blog

hi... i know it's been a long time since i've posted anything here... will (hopefully) be back soon.

saw some GREAT! movies in tha last few weeks... will (perhaps) talk about them sometime...

meanwhile, i've just joined this indian feminist blog called Sthreeling. Have a look.

:)

cheers for new year :-)

Can there be a better way then Maya Angelou to start the new year?

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

World Day for Prevention of Child Abuse

just something i wrote for the hindu on the world day for prevention of child abuse...

http://www.hindu.com/mp/2005/11/19/stories/2005111901480100.htm

"wows" among the leaves

Stayed in this small cheery sunlighty "happy" room in Bangalore for a few hours. View from the balcony...

I stood there staring at them for a loooooong time... gazed at the celebration of life... celebration of being... the asymmetrical symmetry... tickled myself thinking how would it be for breeze to negotiate it's way through the petals... felt silly contemplating why there could not be flowers of myriad colors on the same tree... felt sillier while answering myself with "but that would confuse the bees"... contemplated if the color was orangish-red or yellowish-orange...

... ... ... and as I stood there in silence, awe, amazement, harmony, I wondered if for this one moment only was the phrase joie de vivre coined!

Child Abuse

There are thousands of abused children around, and we've just stayed silent about them all this while. And as long as we stay silent, we'll keep speaking the language of abusers. And as long as we keep speaking the abusers' language, we'll keep punishing these children for the crimes committed by their abusers.

Now is really not the time for inaction. After all, "if we don't stand up for children, then we don't stand for much." (- Marian Edelman)


My name is Sarah
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,

I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better,
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my Mommy
Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all,
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
All the day long.

When I awake
I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home.

When my Mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just
One whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall.

I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And I run for the door.

He's already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!", I scream
But its now much too late
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain
Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.

- Anonymous

a-live

"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing." - Agatha Christie

To be alive is a grand thing!!

2 quick (and random) thoughts:
a) It is.
b) Isn't it?

Alone

Old diaries are amazing things! Stumbled upon this poem in a pale old diary.

There's so much poetry in this poem! Isn't it?

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

by Edgar Allen Poe

jus' thinkin'

3 stimulating things that I read today:

1:
"I am interested in politics for only one reason - to reach the day when I will not have to be interested in politics. I want to secure a society in which I will be free to pursue my own concerns and goals, knowing that the government will not interfere to wreck them, knowing that my life, my work, my future are not at the mercy of the state or the whim of a dictator."
- Ayn Rand

2:
"Autumn - a second spring when every leaf is a flower."
- Albert Camus

3:
"Look, I really don't want to wax philosophical, but I will say that if you're alive, you got to flap your arms and legs, you got to jump around a lot, you got to make a lot of noise, because life is the very opposite of death. And therefore, as I see it, if you're quiet, you're not living. You've got to be noisy, or at least your thoughts should be noisy and colorful and lively."
- Mel Brooks
(I found this one very invigorating even though I don't completely agree with it - I don't believe life is the very opposite of death - the way light is not the absence of darkness.)

Neat, no? :-)

grrr...

"An eyeful a day keeps the doctor away.
Staring at women's breasts is good for men's health and makes them live longer, a new survey reveals. Researchers (in a "five-year study of 200 men" in Germany) have discovered that a ten-minute ogle at women's breasts is as healthy as half-an-hour in the gym."

I am at a total loss of words. Things that completely escape me about this whole so-called research affair:
1. This "study" gets conceptualized and operationalized.
2. It gets funded.
3. It gets published.
4. A newspaper prominently prints the "findings".

Right now I am so irritated by the whole thing that I don't even want to get into some sort of intellectual discussion on this (not that I won't ... sometime later may be). Is it even required of me to actually articulate why I find the whole affair sooooooo very irritating? Does it even demand academic/intellectual scrutiny to decide how damaging it is? Is it me or is it them? Why do I feel so vexed that I feel like shouting from every rooftop in town screaming, "People are more than a pile of organs and fluids! Women are not FMCGs stacked up at the corner grocery store!! Wake up and smell the coffee!!!"

And as I shout my head off, I recall what I read in yesterday's newspaper about this students' magazine in a New Zealand university that has come with a "how to" guide on date rape. (For those who are wondering: Nope, not meant for women to help protect themselves. Yup, for people to actually "how to" do it).

How low shall we have to tumble before eventually realizing that we have embarrassed ourselves enough!!!!

Sea and Sphinx

just looking at the sea is a very humbling and at the same time very empowering experience... just watching the waves come and go... listening to the sound as they hit shore... looking at the mist that rises as the waves enthusiastically rush to drench the sun-baked golden sand...

i was there last week...

and was reminded of kahlil gibran:

"The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said, "A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again." I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand." (Sea and Foam)

the sea spoke. the sphinx spoke. but i did not understand!
will i ever?

My Shadow

The thought contained in this poem quite tickled me...

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

by R L Stevenson

Books and us

I have always wondered... why do we like the books we like? Why do some of them seep through our skin and sink so deep into our minds that it becomes almost impossible to purge them out even when we want to?

Has it ever happened that you meet someone... or simply come across someone... and develop a sudden liking... or immense disliking? The other person doesn't even need to open his/her mouth. S/he doesn't need to do anything to deserve to be liked/disliked. All the person's gotta do is be there... at that moment. It happens with me often... well, not with all people. But it has certainly happened with certain people I've met. I agree, there are people who grow on you... and your likings/dislikings may change over time. But that's not what I'm speaking of. Nope, I'm also not talking of how that person carries him/herself... what s/he says... how s/he looks... nothing. As I said, all that person's got to do is to be there.

Sometimes I feel books are like people. Perhaps it is my relationship with books that is like the one with people above. But it happens. You go to a bookstore, and you have made up your mind of getting yourself something to read, and it just so happens that you don't feel like taking home a single book in the damn store. It just doesn't click! And then, sometimes while you are just ambling your time away, you come across this book whose title sounds weird and the author's name is even weirder. But you like it... I don't think it has got anything to do with the author, endorsements, the plot... all the book's gotta do is be there. This wand seller in one of the Harry Potter books says, "You don't choose the wand, the wand chooses you." I think it's something like that. You pick a book from some alcove in the store, and you just connect!! Nope, I'm not talking of the infatuation with title (like the one I had with "If nobody speaks of remarkable things" ... I'm sorry if I got the name wrong... am not too good with remembering those), or the cover design... nope, I'm not speaking of bollywood romances. I'm talking here of a profound connection with the book. Like you pick a book and you feel you've been searching for this... like the book too has been looking for you... and are overwhelmed by this acute need to read it.

It has happened with me so very often. And this phenomenon (can it be called one?) has led to some of the best book discoveries... I've stumbled upon some of my favourite books this way. Like I chanced upon "The Divine Child" while killing time in a bookstore... I picked this book up... and headed straight for the payment counter. The book turned out to be one of the most fascinating and thought-provoking journeys I've embarked upon. Same thing happened with the "Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time" (it wasn't as famous then)... and I was just so pleased with myself for having picked that book up from one forgotten corner during a book sale. The same thing has happened with so many other books as well.

Why... is the question? Why do we like the books we like. Ok, even if we didn't connect with them in the bizarre way described above, why do we still like the books we like? Is it only about the literary skills and sensibilities of the author? Is it only the fact that you liked the last book by the same chap? Is it only about the plot... the emotion... the intrigue... the turn of phrase? We could find these in soooooo many books. But why do we end up liking... or perhaps loving some books so deeply? Do we like them because they remind us of ourselves? Or is it that they portray the lives we'd want to live... or the lives we have lived? Do we like them because they affirm our beliefs... or challenge them? Do we like them because they help us escape reality... or we like them bacause they present it? Why?

Guess I am just an irrational person. I like certain books because... well, because I like them. And I guess books too are like irrational people. They choose me... well, because they choose to.

aha!

Somebody used this quote in a conversation yesterday...

"In the unfolding drama of life, we play our roles unrehearsed."

Really enjoyed this one... am still savouring the taste :-)