A professor asked me where do I see myself five years from now. And I pondered for a moment. And I came up with this.
It is said that 'to have low ambition is a crime'. And in that I am guilty. For my ambitions are modest and humble. I had got over such taste as I once might have had for the great and grand things, and now come to prefer what is plain and homely.
In five years from now, I see myself working in a lowly MNC as a small managerial staff, earning a humble salary.
And what about 30 years later?
I shall take an early retirement and live in a farmhouse. Every evening I shall sit down on the porch watching the sun set, with a smoking pipe on one hand, and a pen on the other, writing a the story of my life. Ah! Such a beautiful life I would have lived!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Silliness and Foolishness goes together
Without further ado, I will put it straight out in the open that Girls are silly beings and Boys are equally foolish. And it is only fitting that girl would be silly enough to go out with a foolish boy, and a boy would be foolish enough not to know what is good for him and go out with a silly girl.
Strange how this things turns out. There is no lose ends left. Silliness and foolishness go hand in hand together. So what is the thing that happens when silliness meets with foolishness? Love. And that is why I always say that Love is one of the greatest blunder the so called sapient beings commits. And that is as it should be, for blunders are what silly and foolish people are good at.
One may get the general feeling that I am so against love. But such is not the case. I will relate an incident which happenned in medieval France. A woman of noble birth, along with her noble husband, was walking through the garden of Versailles. She noticed a peasant girl kissing a peasant boy. This noble Lady was intrigued by this so she asked her husband, "Do this commoners can feel this exquisite feeling called love, darling?" When her husband confirms her in the affirmative, she was quite disappointed, "But it is much too good for them".
And she was right ofcourse. Love is too good a thing for humans altogether and should only be reserved for only the most powerful of Gods.
Strange how this things turns out. There is no lose ends left. Silliness and foolishness go hand in hand together. So what is the thing that happens when silliness meets with foolishness? Love. And that is why I always say that Love is one of the greatest blunder the so called sapient beings commits. And that is as it should be, for blunders are what silly and foolish people are good at.
One may get the general feeling that I am so against love. But such is not the case. I will relate an incident which happenned in medieval France. A woman of noble birth, along with her noble husband, was walking through the garden of Versailles. She noticed a peasant girl kissing a peasant boy. This noble Lady was intrigued by this so she asked her husband, "Do this commoners can feel this exquisite feeling called love, darling?" When her husband confirms her in the affirmative, she was quite disappointed, "But it is much too good for them".
And she was right ofcourse. Love is too good a thing for humans altogether and should only be reserved for only the most powerful of Gods.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Of all folly, the most unsurpassable
What one must not do, of all the blunderings of humans, is to believe. And from believe, trust.
For 'believe' and 'trust' is the zenith of all human folly, followed closely by hope and love. Why or how should any sane sapient being indulge in these deadly matters is beyond comprehension. When I say 'believe', I mean the believe we held upon a person. We can always believe and have absolute faith in facts which are supported by the firm pillars of logic and reason. But certainly it is absurd to the point of insanity to believe in something on the mere basis of a fellow's promise and your faith in him.
I distrust anyone I come across and do not believe whit of a word another fellow is saying. And I distrust myself above all. For how can I have faith in myself when I have broken many a vow and promises I have made in the past. I always held that one should not trust even your other hand when dealing with this thing called life. For it is cunning and treacherous and one do not always know what the decietful future will bring.
Constant Vigilance, I say.
For 'believe' and 'trust' is the zenith of all human folly, followed closely by hope and love. Why or how should any sane sapient being indulge in these deadly matters is beyond comprehension. When I say 'believe', I mean the believe we held upon a person. We can always believe and have absolute faith in facts which are supported by the firm pillars of logic and reason. But certainly it is absurd to the point of insanity to believe in something on the mere basis of a fellow's promise and your faith in him.
I distrust anyone I come across and do not believe whit of a word another fellow is saying. And I distrust myself above all. For how can I have faith in myself when I have broken many a vow and promises I have made in the past. I always held that one should not trust even your other hand when dealing with this thing called life. For it is cunning and treacherous and one do not always know what the decietful future will bring.
Constant Vigilance, I say.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
What rot!!
Today, I have a lot of things to complain about so, I will just get on with it
Tennyson or one such fool of a chap ( don't remember who )wrote:
"
The year's at the Spring,
the day's at the morn,
morning's at seven,
the hill side's dew-pearled-
and continues with some such rot...
"The lark's on the wing, the snail's on the thorn.
God's in His Heaven, all's right with the world."
I mean, who asked his opinion?!
A blight of a poet comes out and tells us it's spring, whether you like it or not, when every evidence proves that is it otherwise. It is winter now, but no, the rot of a poet is adamant that a year is something which other season other than spring ought not to be.
Then he alludes to this rather funny idea that it is morning at seven. I was not aware that anything before 10 in the a.m could be refered to as morning. But no, the poet had to break the the fact, and twist the knife by revealing that at a certain hour when content creature should be sleeping on one's bed, the mornings are all said and done with. Which ofcourse, is total rot. I have not encountered a single morning before 10 o'clock in the a.m. and the notion that such a thing exist before that hour is hightly preposterous. Trust me, I am telling you from personal experience.
And then there is the thing about the eccentric view on larks and snails. One might pass off, that a lark can be delusional and could somehow be on the wings, but no matter how delusional a snail maybe, it would surely not impale itself on a thorn, of all places in the wide known universe, especially not so in the morning ( morning, if the poet deludes himself the hour to be ) . One would think a snail has some common sense and be going about minding its own business without sad incidents with thorns and what not, but clearly this blight of a poet seems to think otherwise. Sacrilege, I say, of fellow brethens of the living.
But the last straw is his blithe abandonment of the ways of religion, God, and the general well being of the world. How did this chap concurred that God is in His Heaven, one would never know, but to conclude all of this by saying that all of the things summed up that all of the world is well, that is a bit below the waist.
Let us suppose ( one of those supposition techniques, one so often find oneself using to prove or disprove a hypothesis ), that all the things this chap is saying is true, that it is spring ( even thought the cold winds of winter is blowing ) and that 7 O'clock can be remotely referred to as morning ( god forbid such thing ), and by some delusion on the part of the Lark, he/she is on his/her wings, and the snail feels particularly suicidal and wanted to impale itself on a thorn in this ungodly hour, for reasons unfathomable even to himself. Let us say all of these is somehow the case. What I do not get is, how in the dickens does this make all the world well? A daffy old blighter of a poet he must have been. Still no harm done as long as one do not take him seriously.
All is well, bah! if he only knows what is going at my neighbours and what happenned at the marketplace yesterday. Some bloke who has no clue of the world.
Tennyson or one such fool of a chap ( don't remember who )wrote:
"
The year's at the Spring,
the day's at the morn,
morning's at seven,
the hill side's dew-pearled-
and continues with some such rot...
"The lark's on the wing, the snail's on the thorn.
God's in His Heaven, all's right with the world."
I mean, who asked his opinion?!
A blight of a poet comes out and tells us it's spring, whether you like it or not, when every evidence proves that is it otherwise. It is winter now, but no, the rot of a poet is adamant that a year is something which other season other than spring ought not to be.
Then he alludes to this rather funny idea that it is morning at seven. I was not aware that anything before 10 in the a.m could be refered to as morning. But no, the poet had to break the the fact, and twist the knife by revealing that at a certain hour when content creature should be sleeping on one's bed, the mornings are all said and done with. Which ofcourse, is total rot. I have not encountered a single morning before 10 o'clock in the a.m. and the notion that such a thing exist before that hour is hightly preposterous. Trust me, I am telling you from personal experience.
And then there is the thing about the eccentric view on larks and snails. One might pass off, that a lark can be delusional and could somehow be on the wings, but no matter how delusional a snail maybe, it would surely not impale itself on a thorn, of all places in the wide known universe, especially not so in the morning ( morning, if the poet deludes himself the hour to be ) . One would think a snail has some common sense and be going about minding its own business without sad incidents with thorns and what not, but clearly this blight of a poet seems to think otherwise. Sacrilege, I say, of fellow brethens of the living.
But the last straw is his blithe abandonment of the ways of religion, God, and the general well being of the world. How did this chap concurred that God is in His Heaven, one would never know, but to conclude all of this by saying that all of the things summed up that all of the world is well, that is a bit below the waist.
Let us suppose ( one of those supposition techniques, one so often find oneself using to prove or disprove a hypothesis ), that all the things this chap is saying is true, that it is spring ( even thought the cold winds of winter is blowing ) and that 7 O'clock can be remotely referred to as morning ( god forbid such thing ), and by some delusion on the part of the Lark, he/she is on his/her wings, and the snail feels particularly suicidal and wanted to impale itself on a thorn in this ungodly hour, for reasons unfathomable even to himself. Let us say all of these is somehow the case. What I do not get is, how in the dickens does this make all the world well? A daffy old blighter of a poet he must have been. Still no harm done as long as one do not take him seriously.
All is well, bah! if he only knows what is going at my neighbours and what happenned at the marketplace yesterday. Some bloke who has no clue of the world.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
The West Wind blows
I felt it then, that the stillness, the ennui, is just the calmness before the storm. Then a soft breeze came, pleasing the tired trees, releasing the leaves from their stifled hold on life. For them, it was the beginning of another journey. It is for the living that falling leaves pitied for. For the West Wind comes.
I felt Him coming, and chilled the very bones of mine. Now He blows relentlessly against the windows, asking for entry, disguising once as an old lady, another time as a homeless orphan. I can not, and shall not, let Him touch me, for the west wind bring the most dangerous of all Evil - Change.
The cold West Wind blows, extending His icy fingers, touching one here and one there, changing the lives of unsuspecting victims. But change has never been easy, especially to those who do not like to be forced to change. But without change, there would be stagnation and decay.
The fallen leaves had it easy, for they knew, that to survive the cold winter, one must preserve what ought to be preserved, and prune whenever there is a necessity. For the only thing that does not change is change. And this the West Wind knows.
I can still hear Him rattling on the windows.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Not suppose to love you anymore
I stole this from somewhere. Bite me!
We agreed that it was over
Now the lines have all been drawn
The vows we made begin to fade but now they’re gone
Put your pictures in a shoe box
And my [sliver]ring in the drawer.
I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
Now my friend says he's jealous
of this freedom that I found
he would be; he would be out on the town
and he says; he can’t imagine
what on earth I’m waiting for.
I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
Oh I shouldn’t care of wonder where and how you are
But I can’t hide this hurt inside my broken heart
I’m fighting back emotions that I’ve never fought before
‘cause I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I’d take back those words that hurt you and you’d stay.
I don’t know why I did the things I did
I don’t know why I said the things I said
Loves like a knife it can cut deep inside
Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes.
I didn’t really mean to hurt you
I didn’t wanna see you go
I know I made you cry, but baby,
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I’d take back those words that hurt you
And you’d stay.
If I could reach the stars
I’d give them all to you
Then you’d love me, love me like you used to do.
If I could turn back time.
But I lost everything darling then and there
Too strong to tell you I was sorry
Too proud to tell you I was wrong
I know that I was blind,
Don’t let the sun go down on me
Although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see
I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me.
I can’t find all the right romantic lines
But see me once and see the way I feel
Don’t discard me just because you think I mean you harm
But these cuts I have, oh they need love to help them heal.
We agreed that it was over
Now the lines have all been drawn
The vows we made begin to fade but now they’re gone
Put your pictures in a shoe box
And my [sliver]ring in the drawer.
I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
Now my friend says he's jealous
of this freedom that I found
he would be; he would be out on the town
and he says; he can’t imagine
what on earth I’m waiting for.
I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
Oh I shouldn’t care of wonder where and how you are
But I can’t hide this hurt inside my broken heart
I’m fighting back emotions that I’ve never fought before
‘cause I’m not supposed to love you anymore.
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I’d take back those words that hurt you and you’d stay.
I don’t know why I did the things I did
I don’t know why I said the things I said
Loves like a knife it can cut deep inside
Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes.
I didn’t really mean to hurt you
I didn’t wanna see you go
I know I made you cry, but baby,
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I’d take back those words that hurt you
And you’d stay.
If I could reach the stars
I’d give them all to you
Then you’d love me, love me like you used to do.
If I could turn back time.
But I lost everything darling then and there
Too strong to tell you I was sorry
Too proud to tell you I was wrong
I know that I was blind,
Don’t let the sun go down on me
Although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see
I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me.
I can’t find all the right romantic lines
But see me once and see the way I feel
Don’t discard me just because you think I mean you harm
But these cuts I have, oh they need love to help them heal.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Life goes on...
I have always had this way with reason and logic, that I will always be guided by Reason and led by Logic. And this outlook has always led me to where I wanted to be.
Sometimes, I am only too human and begin to doubt myself, how do I know that I am not blinded by Reason and intoxicated by Logic? Should I not let passion take over me and run ramphant? Why should I not let lust guide me into the deepest depth of feelings?
Conscience, as always puts up his objection, Reason and Logic on his sides and glares at me as if I am something abominable for even thinking like this. I dislike myself at times like this.
Sometimes, I am only too human and begin to doubt myself, how do I know that I am not blinded by Reason and intoxicated by Logic? Should I not let passion take over me and run ramphant? Why should I not let lust guide me into the deepest depth of feelings?
Conscience, as always puts up his objection, Reason and Logic on his sides and glares at me as if I am something abominable for even thinking like this. I dislike myself at times like this.
Friday, July 07, 2006
A Prayer
My Lord, I ask you not mercy for I deserve none, nor do I ask forgiveness for that is impossible to get. I pray not, to make me happy and not, to take all my sorrows away.
For who am I to ask such? How can one so underserving as I, ask anything, my Lord.
But I beseech you my Lord to never make me forget you, to always be in my heart. I ask you to give me strengh to believe in you always, that my faith in you never falters.
For a mere human I am, without a knowledge of what the unrevealed future may bring.
For who am I to ask such? How can one so underserving as I, ask anything, my Lord.
But I beseech you my Lord to never make me forget you, to always be in my heart. I ask you to give me strengh to believe in you always, that my faith in you never falters.
For a mere human I am, without a knowledge of what the unrevealed future may bring.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Being Wise
Once a person asked me, "What is the difference between intelligence and wisdom, do not they allude to the same power of our cognitive mind?".
I gave not the answer then, for I knew not.
That was then.I have become wiser, and hence I know. Intelligence is born, not made, whereas wisdom is made and cultured. One can see many an intelligent child, but not a wise one, for wisdom is only for the aged. The old persist, but the young withers. One is born intelligent, but to garner wisdom, one has to go through the tough road of experience and gather the fruits of the old.
"But how do we become wise?", another asked.I answered, "By going through the road of experience and gathering the fruits of the old. We listen to wise men speak, we soak things from the experience of others, for we may not live long enough to experience all things in a lifetime, yet we must know of them."
Yes, one may not live long enough to experience all things himself, for we are of the mortal race.
I gave not the answer then, for I knew not.
That was then.I have become wiser, and hence I know. Intelligence is born, not made, whereas wisdom is made and cultured. One can see many an intelligent child, but not a wise one, for wisdom is only for the aged. The old persist, but the young withers. One is born intelligent, but to garner wisdom, one has to go through the tough road of experience and gather the fruits of the old.
"But how do we become wise?", another asked.I answered, "By going through the road of experience and gathering the fruits of the old. We listen to wise men speak, we soak things from the experience of others, for we may not live long enough to experience all things in a lifetime, yet we must know of them."
Yes, one may not live long enough to experience all things himself, for we are of the mortal race.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Resurgam
There was. And many things have come to pass since. Some of which I am aware of their passing, other things unbidden. Many things I know of, yet I do not know all. Many things I feel, yet my senses are limited. Wisdom I may have yet I may not be wise.
To the living, the meaning of life may not be as clear as to the death. For who better than those who are denied of being alive would know what being alive truly means.
Many moons before, darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought; and I wandered far on roads that I shall not tell.
And then there was light, and I felt life in me again. Many things I have forgotten that I learned in the past, and I have learned much that I have forgotten. And where now?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Eureka! Eureka!
No, I shall not debauch myself to such a low level and run naked shouting Eureka! Eureka! But such is the thing I want to do at the present. For I have come across the thing that I was missing for.
I feel, and hence I am aware. I feel that something has returned to me, which has been denied to me for long, a vital part and hence I am now aware that I am complete.
In the night, peacefully I sleep, for now, its presence make me feel contend . I no longer inquire those intriquing questions, for they are meaning less now. And in the night, my unconcious mind does wander to places that are ...natural.
But what is it that I have found? What makes me so complete.
My-self. I found myself. My long journey has been quite meaningless. I searched everywhere, but in the quest, I forgot to search the most unlikely place: my-self.
In the vain pursuit of knowledge, I had forgotten the absolute truth.
In the search of someone, I had forgotten myself.
In the process of finding happiness, I had forgotten to be happy.
So, it was there all along with me. Absurbly simple, like most quest when you reached your destination. Now, I am contend, and happy, for I have found the long lost me, and I feel complete. I have never loved myself so much before. If Narcissus were in front of me, he would be ashamed of himself; for, he could not have loved himself more so.
But does that mean I am narcissic? I love myself, yes, but I shall not waste myself on my reflection on a clear pool of water. But who knows, if the three sisters of fate thus condemned me to, I shall have no choice but to share the fate of Narcisuss. For I do love myself hopelessly.
I feel, and hence I am aware. I feel that something has returned to me, which has been denied to me for long, a vital part and hence I am now aware that I am complete.
In the night, peacefully I sleep, for now, its presence make me feel contend . I no longer inquire those intriquing questions, for they are meaning less now. And in the night, my unconcious mind does wander to places that are ...natural.
But what is it that I have found? What makes me so complete.
My-self. I found myself. My long journey has been quite meaningless. I searched everywhere, but in the quest, I forgot to search the most unlikely place: my-self.
In the vain pursuit of knowledge, I had forgotten the absolute truth.
In the search of someone, I had forgotten myself.
In the process of finding happiness, I had forgotten to be happy.
So, it was there all along with me. Absurbly simple, like most quest when you reached your destination. Now, I am contend, and happy, for I have found the long lost me, and I feel complete. I have never loved myself so much before. If Narcissus were in front of me, he would be ashamed of himself; for, he could not have loved himself more so.
But does that mean I am narcissic? I love myself, yes, but I shall not waste myself on my reflection on a clear pool of water. But who knows, if the three sisters of fate thus condemned me to, I shall have no choice but to share the fate of Narcisuss. For I do love myself hopelessly.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Something Missing
I feel, and hence I am aware. I feel that something has been taken off me, a vital part and hence I am aware that I am incomplete. No it is not that.
I was whole and complete. And suddenly, a new awareness came and I was stripped off. It was pain beyond all pain. And I was naked. Incomplete. Not whole.
I lay awake in the night, because I cannot sleep. I keep thinking. What is the thing that is not present? What is making me incomplete? Why am I feeling these new sensations? Why are these emotions surging through me and rebel insolently against my will? And in the night, why does my concious mind wander to places that are ... not natural?
Revelations, I had none to all these questions. I shall not be passionate. I shall not have it. I shall have my Conscience lead me and have Reason as my guide. I shall thurst Passion down to unsounded depths of agony, where she cannot see the living day lights.
But can I?
Can Conscience and Reason keep Passion in check as it has done so till now? In her throes, will she revolt for freedom from the bonds of both conventionality and morality?
My whole being is in rebellion. And there shall be mutiny. And the end will be near.
Where now are you? Shall you not arise and salvage me from this deep slough of agony. My missing part, shall you not come and take me by the hands and complete me.
Where now are you? And where shall I find you?
Will my lament be left unheard and wasted in the wilderness?
Where now are you?
I was whole and complete. And suddenly, a new awareness came and I was stripped off. It was pain beyond all pain. And I was naked. Incomplete. Not whole.
I lay awake in the night, because I cannot sleep. I keep thinking. What is the thing that is not present? What is making me incomplete? Why am I feeling these new sensations? Why are these emotions surging through me and rebel insolently against my will? And in the night, why does my concious mind wander to places that are ... not natural?
Revelations, I had none to all these questions. I shall not be passionate. I shall not have it. I shall have my Conscience lead me and have Reason as my guide. I shall thurst Passion down to unsounded depths of agony, where she cannot see the living day lights.
But can I?
Can Conscience and Reason keep Passion in check as it has done so till now? In her throes, will she revolt for freedom from the bonds of both conventionality and morality?
My whole being is in rebellion. And there shall be mutiny. And the end will be near.
Where now are you? Shall you not arise and salvage me from this deep slough of agony. My missing part, shall you not come and take me by the hands and complete me.
Where now are you? And where shall I find you?
Will my lament be left unheard and wasted in the wilderness?
Where now are you?
Friday, February 24, 2006
Tag Tagged Tagged
A tag from Milo.
I am suppose to write 8 points that would bring a girl close to.. being my perfect lover.
Hmmm this is difficult. But let me see if I can have a go at it.
1) Female
2) Plain
3) Simple
4) Homely
5) Ordinary
6) Modest
7) Good Natured
8) Soft Spoken
It always was my way, by instinct--ever to meet the brief with brevity, the direct with plainness.
Conventionality is not morality. And as such I shall not tag anyone for I know many people are flooded with tags right now.
I am suppose to write 8 points that would bring a girl close to.. being my perfect lover.
Hmmm this is difficult. But let me see if I can have a go at it.
1) Female
2) Plain
3) Simple
4) Homely
5) Ordinary
6) Modest
7) Good Natured
8) Soft Spoken
It always was my way, by instinct--ever to meet the brief with brevity, the direct with plainness.
Conventionality is not morality. And as such I shall not tag anyone for I know many people are flooded with tags right now.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Alas!
When Gd made me, He made me ordinary. And right from that day I have remained forever so.
When life give difficulties there are those who stand up to fight and resist to be carried away. There aer those who figts against the strong currents of fate and destiny. But I am not one of them. I just accepts whatever life throws at me. I just let myself be carried by the currents of fate. For I have no strenght either to fight or resist. Valour first needs strength and then a weapon. I have none.
Is really there a place in this world for the weak? Do we have the right to survive in this world where the meek are ostracised and the weak are trampled? Is being weak a sin; for which we have to atone it as we live in this cursed life? Which world shall the meek inherit?
We, the weak, the coward lot are born to suffer. We are destinied to live wretched and die accursed. Alas! but that is the fate that is in store for us. For us there is no hope, only darkness and to accept whatever is given to us.
But complain we do not! We do not ask "Why me?" For we are glad that we got a part, however infinitesimally small and immaterial it may be, in God's intricate play in this web of life.
When life give difficulties there are those who stand up to fight and resist to be carried away. There aer those who figts against the strong currents of fate and destiny. But I am not one of them. I just accepts whatever life throws at me. I just let myself be carried by the currents of fate. For I have no strenght either to fight or resist. Valour first needs strength and then a weapon. I have none.
Is really there a place in this world for the weak? Do we have the right to survive in this world where the meek are ostracised and the weak are trampled? Is being weak a sin; for which we have to atone it as we live in this cursed life? Which world shall the meek inherit?
We, the weak, the coward lot are born to suffer. We are destinied to live wretched and die accursed. Alas! but that is the fate that is in store for us. For us there is no hope, only darkness and to accept whatever is given to us.
But complain we do not! We do not ask "Why me?" For we are glad that we got a part, however infinitesimally small and immaterial it may be, in God's intricate play in this web of life.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Explanation of previous post
The little snippet was :
( A fair lady was talking to her friend about how she was lured into love )
'And long upon these terms I held my city,
(She ever try refuse to return the love of this charming man. City, in this sentence means her heart. She tries to defend her heart away from this man who is so dangerous to her heart.
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid,
( But when he spoke thus enchanging my heart : "My fair gentle lady, )
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
( Do feel pity of my youth that is suffering from want of love of yours )
And be not of my holy vows afraid.
( And don't be afraid that I have made my holy vows. Meaning : I am still single. )
That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;
( Because that holy vow I will never sworn to anyone but you; )
For feasts of love I have been called unto,
(For I have fallen madly in love with you, )
Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo.
( And to this moment, I have never invited love or accepted love . )
Well that was the best I can do to explain the snippet.
( I wil be taking a short break from the blogworld for my health is in a delicate state. )
( A fair lady was talking to her friend about how she was lured into love )
'And long upon these terms I held my city,
(She ever try refuse to return the love of this charming man. City, in this sentence means her heart. She tries to defend her heart away from this man who is so dangerous to her heart.
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid,
( But when he spoke thus enchanging my heart : "My fair gentle lady, )
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
( Do feel pity of my youth that is suffering from want of love of yours )
And be not of my holy vows afraid.
( And don't be afraid that I have made my holy vows. Meaning : I am still single. )
That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;
( Because that holy vow I will never sworn to anyone but you; )
For feasts of love I have been called unto,
(For I have fallen madly in love with you, )
Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo.
( And to this moment, I have never invited love or accepted love . )
Well that was the best I can do to explain the snippet.
( I wil be taking a short break from the blogworld for my health is in a delicate state. )
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Unspoken words
Gentle reader, I had not the courage to write down the simple goings of my simple mind. So, I will write something I found quite romantic and tantalising. On the notebook I have, these were written
'And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid.
That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I have been called unto,
Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo.
'And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid.
That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I have been called unto,
Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
There and back again
I think it would do no justice if I write all that happenned during the short holiday I took. I will just say that it was a journey of life's many, with all the ups and downs.
Now that I am back, I shall continue with my search for the meaning of life.
Now that I am back, I shall continue with my search for the meaning of life.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Taking a Break
Another time has come to take yet another break from the normal humdrum of life. It is dangerous to put one's feet on the road, for one may never know where it will sweep you off. And unwisely, I have put my feet on the path that can lead to the Mirkwood or to the lonely mountain. I bid adieu to you gentle reader. Until we meet again.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Nostalgia - A phenomenon
I had got over any such taste as I might once have had for ornamented and redundant composition, and come to prefer what was plain and homely. And as such, a tide of Nostalgia flushed over the composition of my being, overwhelming the general consciousness of mine. I didn't realized that the past is so heavenly sweet -- and so deadly sad, that to reminisce one incident of it would dissolve my courage and break down my energy.
It is said that to the elves memories are like living moments. But to us, mere mortals, it is not so. The memory cannot fulfill the exotic stimulation of the present which so much excites the mind. A reminisces of the past is not like the living visit of the moment, however fresh and vivid one's memory may be.
Yet, to be reminded of the happenings of one's past by the true force of one's memory, one staggers to face the happenings of the time that went by. I remember that time when all hope have left me and I was felled into despair; when I saw the end beyond all doubt. Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonized as in that hour left my lips.
In such incidence, I am glad that we are not elves but simple mortals, for to live the memories again would be agony beyond all misery. But now, I look forward to the future, which to me is an awful blank, something like the world when the deluge was gone by. Yet, a promise lives that all green things will again grow.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Winter's Heart
Let me tell from the start that my regards for the season of winter is not a very nice one. Since I encountered Her at the very beginning of my life, I have always detest the way she manifested herself in the cold blooded way. Still I didn't had the power to tell Her that She is an offence to the senses.
The way she glides along here and there, extending Her icy fingers to catch the unawares, her lithe grace befooling simpletons, making Her way into other people's houses without any invitations, Her crimes are limitless! She may suddenly swoop down an old person and BAM!! The elderly didn't knew what hit him/her.
And the friends that She puts up with, they are despicable. There is this Pneumonia who thinks she is the prettiest of all, and the Common Cold, a sick old bastard who love torturing people, from her neighbourhood. They are the worst. They will strut around together with no care for the others, pulling pranks on some small children, or some old fellow, the list of their crime is endless.
I will be glad when this season who calls Herself Winter would take Her long vaccation. Life was quite and content when she was not around. But she is now for stay for another month or so!! I don't know how I can put up with Her for that long.
May the gods have mercy on those who were touched my the icy fingers of the Winter!
The way she glides along here and there, extending Her icy fingers to catch the unawares, her lithe grace befooling simpletons, making Her way into other people's houses without any invitations, Her crimes are limitless! She may suddenly swoop down an old person and BAM!! The elderly didn't knew what hit him/her.
And the friends that She puts up with, they are despicable. There is this Pneumonia who thinks she is the prettiest of all, and the Common Cold, a sick old bastard who love torturing people, from her neighbourhood. They are the worst. They will strut around together with no care for the others, pulling pranks on some small children, or some old fellow, the list of their crime is endless.
I will be glad when this season who calls Herself Winter would take Her long vaccation. Life was quite and content when she was not around. But she is now for stay for another month or so!! I don't know how I can put up with Her for that long.
May the gods have mercy on those who were touched my the icy fingers of the Winter!
Monday, January 02, 2006
I thank my maker
Once I got sick, not life threatening but seriously ill and much painful. During that time, a friend came to visit me and ask cordially how I am feeling, I told him I am getting better everyday and to keep up the conversation, I asked him how was his day, He said, "I watched three movies today and played many games of TT(table tennis), but I feel bored," he take a look at me and continued, "But you must feel pretty much more bored lying down own your bed all day.
I gave him a surprised look, "Me bored", I exclaimed, "How can I feel boredom when ever breath I take is a fight with death, ever moment is a struggle to keep alive"
He was surprised. And after some moments, he went to play TT again. What I didn't told him is that, in between all the fighting and struggling, I thank my maker, that in the midst of judgement, he has remembered mercy and kept me alive so far.
I gave him a surprised look, "Me bored", I exclaimed, "How can I feel boredom when ever breath I take is a fight with death, ever moment is a struggle to keep alive"
He was surprised. And after some moments, he went to play TT again. What I didn't told him is that, in between all the fighting and struggling, I thank my maker, that in the midst of judgement, he has remembered mercy and kept me alive so far.
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