Its over...
Not only the cup, 'a time to make friends'.. but also the career of a man who at an age of grandpas in footballing terms almost outran, outfoxed, outjumped and audaciously put men, na, boys half his age, to shame...It was as if the clock turned back to 98 and he was the midfield marshall again..We saw the zidane of the two famous headers, the zizou of the champions league final who volleyed the galacticos home... it was a rousing swansong but i guess u cant get all you want... most of all i hope he wont be remembered for the second of madness but rather for what he stood for and represented in his life which centerd around the beautiful game...Lets celebrate zizou with his imperfections cos the man, the phenomenon, the Galactico, the Zinedine Zidane deserves it and lots more...
Farewell Zidane..
You will be missed.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Artifacial
'Artifacial'... Artifacial?? Wow, I've coined a new word! Maybe one day it will be 150000001th word in the Oxford dictionary! I feel so proud about this! Feel like smiling.. :) An ear to ear smile, originating from my heart, reaching my eyes, reaching out to everyone around me! A new word to enrich everyone's vocab by one and to make my voice heard around the world... To have everyone around the world using this like they use 'happy' or 'smile'! But why to create such a word whose inception in itself is a paradox? It makes me smile.. A true smile, not a smile which makes me sick, not a false smile... But its a smile from within. The smiles i see all around remind me of the facial which old aunties put on to appear younger. To fool the world. To hide their true self. A fake face. An artifacial.
Thats why I think its a paradox that such an ugly term can make me smile. Maybe its just me who sees it... I go to a party and see you conjuring up a laugh, a smile, a roar of delight at anything remotely resembling verbal communication. Maybe its just your sense of humour. I see your smiles. Or rather your masks. You cover your mouth with a smile. Hide crooked teeth behind angular lips. Your dimpled cheeks remind me of dark valleys, the high cheekbones of rocky ridges. But the mask doesn't go up to your eyes, see? I look into your eyes and find myself staring back from within a well. Dont know how to explain it but feels a little like pushing a wall. Are you really smiling, darling? Or are you making fun of me? Yes, you are smiling after all. Your high pitched shreiks of pleasure crash against my eardrums like the waves against a rocky cliff.
It really hurts me.. I feel like crying. :-( Not just tears flooding the front of my face. Not just loud, anguished wails that rouse the neighbours. No, not just that. I feel my heart bleeding, as if a loved one died. Giving me a pain to numb all pain. A sorrow above tears. A sadness beyond sound. Do you feel any pain? Or are you beyond pain now? Have you ever felt a pain that's hot as a molten glass, that makes all your masks melt away? Or is your mask pain proof like it was happiness proof?
Why don't you remove it then? What are you scared of? Can you really feel scared of the people around you? Na, they don't matter. They are under their masks, see? So logically they can't really be angry! Its just their mask dear, not them. They're just pretending to be angry cos they know they are supposed to behave this way. The anger they feel is just like the happiness you feel! Its not real, no! Just like you they are incapable of feeling anything! In fact they are scared just like you. Scared of their own shadow, insecure in their skin, wary of the blood in their veins, walking with hunched shoulders, afraid to look me in the eye. Are you sure now that this is just a mask? Hasn't it become your skin now? A thick hide to desensitize you from the surroundings? An atmosphere to burn down the stimuli? A shell in which a human-like form is growing after no purpose whatsoever?
This is the reason you feel everything but only a little bit. The reason you shed tears but don't cry. Wail aloud but don't feel pain. Laugh without pleasure. Smile without that special feeling of joy. This artifacial is choking me so much now. Have to remove it for some time. I hope I can. Will get back to you later love. Enjoy all you can while I'm not here! Or have you forgotten even that?
Thats why I think its a paradox that such an ugly term can make me smile. Maybe its just me who sees it... I go to a party and see you conjuring up a laugh, a smile, a roar of delight at anything remotely resembling verbal communication. Maybe its just your sense of humour. I see your smiles. Or rather your masks. You cover your mouth with a smile. Hide crooked teeth behind angular lips. Your dimpled cheeks remind me of dark valleys, the high cheekbones of rocky ridges. But the mask doesn't go up to your eyes, see? I look into your eyes and find myself staring back from within a well. Dont know how to explain it but feels a little like pushing a wall. Are you really smiling, darling? Or are you making fun of me? Yes, you are smiling after all. Your high pitched shreiks of pleasure crash against my eardrums like the waves against a rocky cliff.
It really hurts me.. I feel like crying. :-( Not just tears flooding the front of my face. Not just loud, anguished wails that rouse the neighbours. No, not just that. I feel my heart bleeding, as if a loved one died. Giving me a pain to numb all pain. A sorrow above tears. A sadness beyond sound. Do you feel any pain? Or are you beyond pain now? Have you ever felt a pain that's hot as a molten glass, that makes all your masks melt away? Or is your mask pain proof like it was happiness proof?
Why don't you remove it then? What are you scared of? Can you really feel scared of the people around you? Na, they don't matter. They are under their masks, see? So logically they can't really be angry! Its just their mask dear, not them. They're just pretending to be angry cos they know they are supposed to behave this way. The anger they feel is just like the happiness you feel! Its not real, no! Just like you they are incapable of feeling anything! In fact they are scared just like you. Scared of their own shadow, insecure in their skin, wary of the blood in their veins, walking with hunched shoulders, afraid to look me in the eye. Are you sure now that this is just a mask? Hasn't it become your skin now? A thick hide to desensitize you from the surroundings? An atmosphere to burn down the stimuli? A shell in which a human-like form is growing after no purpose whatsoever?
This is the reason you feel everything but only a little bit. The reason you shed tears but don't cry. Wail aloud but don't feel pain. Laugh without pleasure. Smile without that special feeling of joy. This artifacial is choking me so much now. Have to remove it for some time. I hope I can. Will get back to you later love. Enjoy all you can while I'm not here! Or have you forgotten even that?
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The Villain Within
While hearing about the air attack spree
My five-year old sister suddenly asked me
Is Osama dead?
Has his body been laid?
No Osama cannot die
Hard as hard the world may try
An Osama within us is beyond interception
Lying dormant waiting and waiting
For a triggered eruption.
He is present in all of us,
So well hidden, his shadows we easily miss.
He was in Aurangzeb, he was in Hitler
He is everywhere, maybe even in your butler.
The need is brotherhood, unlike Abel and Cain,
Osama isn’t a religious boon, rather he is a bane.
He is the mastermind of the attacks of terror,
To let him prevail would be a grave error;
The world may have reached near destruction,
But after destruction, there is resurrection
As the holy books say, truth triumphs in the end,
So there is belief in my heart that there is no dead end.
The devil can never win,
God can’t be turned to lead and tin.
Try to control the forces of the devil,
Or you will be hollowed by this slimy weevil.
Dear friends it will be a long fight,
Let the forces of good unite.
Against evil we all must fight,
Make the Osama vanish from your heart,
Into the night…
Into the night…
This is a very special poem.. I wrote it in tenth standard and was awarded a 'Special Prize for poetry for the New Millenium' by the HRD ministry for it! Fittingly one of my first post! :)
My five-year old sister suddenly asked me
Is Osama dead?
Has his body been laid?
No Osama cannot die
Hard as hard the world may try
An Osama within us is beyond interception
Lying dormant waiting and waiting
For a triggered eruption.
He is present in all of us,
So well hidden, his shadows we easily miss.
He was in Aurangzeb, he was in Hitler
He is everywhere, maybe even in your butler.
The need is brotherhood, unlike Abel and Cain,
Osama isn’t a religious boon, rather he is a bane.
He is the mastermind of the attacks of terror,
To let him prevail would be a grave error;
The world may have reached near destruction,
But after destruction, there is resurrection
As the holy books say, truth triumphs in the end,
So there is belief in my heart that there is no dead end.
The devil can never win,
God can’t be turned to lead and tin.
Try to control the forces of the devil,
Or you will be hollowed by this slimy weevil.
Dear friends it will be a long fight,
Let the forces of good unite.
Against evil we all must fight,
Make the Osama vanish from your heart,
Into the night…
Into the night…
This is a very special poem.. I wrote it in tenth standard and was awarded a 'Special Prize for poetry for the New Millenium' by the HRD ministry for it! Fittingly one of my first post! :)
What Matters...
With my head full of hopes
N my eyes full of dreams
I climbed on the blue-white train
Destined for a place so far away…
Time stood still as the train moved on
And I looked ahead at the woods to come
Stared out the window
Lush green meadows rolled by
The trees, the fresh winds
All called out to me
At the station
Where I believed I could fly…
People climbed on the white-blue train
Smiled at me, sat by my side
We talked some time, shared a bit
Their stations came and it was time to split
Bittersweet memories they left me with
The smiles, the pains, the promises (memories)…
Places, stations, destinations
The blue-white train just chugged along
Stations came, many passed
But most stayed on…
On in my heart.
One place I remember
Where green roses grew
Red sunflowers woke up
With the evening dew
It felt so good, so sane, (yet) so mad
‘twas the best place for feeling bad.
There was the station when I
Stopped looking out the window
The walls of a white-blue coach were my world
So I couldn’t see
The morning dew, the golden hue
The taller trees, the greener grass
Was too busy, just let them pass…
Ahead I knew came the station grey
The final station, my destination
So cold, so dark, when I reached I saw
There and then, my journey flashed past me
The sunny grasslands I missed
The rosy winds I kissed
The green roses I saw
The magnificence, the beauty, inspiring awe,
All alone, on the blue-white train I fearedfor those who stepped off (but) I still cared
The beauty of the way is all I remember
Wish I had taken out my hands to feel the rain
Wish I had paused to smell the roses
And I wish…
Oh how I wish…
I had seen more of the way…
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