Sunday, October 5, 2008

Qui Suis-Je?

Qui suis-je?
Une goutte de rosée sur une brin d’herbe?
Ou une rose souhaitant le printemps?
Ou une feuille étendue sur la mousse?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
Le vent tourbillonnant dans les forêts?
Ou l’oiseau planant dans le sphère céleste?
Ou la pluie fine humectant la terre?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
L’éléphant secouant la terre tremblante?
Ou le roi de la forêt faisant le lézard?
Ou l’écureuil, noix en main, se hâtant sur l’arbre?
Non, juste une création de la Mère.

Qui suis-je?
Une petite fourmi dans l’univers,
Une petite fille de la terre,
Une petite flamme du grand feu,
Juste une creation de la Mère.


A little cry of anguish
And then I feel
My heart swell up with tears
For I have been hurt again.
I cry out in rage:
Why me, when there are others
In this vast world,
Why should they give me only pain?

Pain, pain and pain,
What is this pain?
But a feeling in the heart
Of hard pins crushing it,
Taking out the blood
With a force unimaginable.
I cry out in rage,
For I have been hurt again.

What can I do
But bear this pain?
For to take revenge
Is not always sane;
I struggle to revive
That delicate heart of mine.
And to make it beat
With all past joys.

And I know
That never again
My heart shall be
Tremulous, plaintive,
But beating with strength
Unafraid, joyful,
Ready to give back
What it got from another.

The world is full of pain,
Surrounded by it,
Engulfed in it,
And vibrating with it.
But it too can be
Powerfully conquered
For pain doesn’t live
Where joy resides.


Beauty rested on the tall green trees,
It floated on the blue shimmering lake,
Beauty flew on the wings of the wind,
It hid in the curves of the blades of grass.

Beauty spread in the unending sky,
It mingled with the flocks of cloud,
Beauty slept in the breast of the birds,
It sweetly sang in their morning song.

Beauty covered the whole of Nature,
Never leaving a spot amiss,
Beauty dwelled in the heart of Nature,
Mother of bliss.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Beep! Is the Message for You?

“You’ve got a message! Beep! You’ve got a message! Beep! You’ve got a message! Beep!”

My father groaned awake. “Who the hell is this? Mid afternoon!” He snatched his phone from under the pillow.

The anonymous message said, “I love you!” Stunned, he checked the number. Not registered. Who was this? He dialed the number.

“Hèlo?” a raucous male voice answered. “Hèlo?”

“Hello? Who’s this?” inquired my father. A male voice? Good god!!!

The phone went death. Chuckling silently, he imagined the poor fellow’s reaction. His romantic eloquence had been misdirected. The embarrassment at being caught must be stinging.

“You’ve got a message! Beep! You’ve got a message! Beep! You’ve got a message! Beep!”

The message read “I am sorry.” The number was the same.

Laughing aloud with the family, I wondered at the coincidence. Recently I had heard and experienced many such similar incidents.

Last Sunday, during breakfast, a friend had recounted how he had received about 10 to 15 sms, from a guy, some in Tamil and some in English… All very romantic! Instead of calling up the person to inform him of his mistake, he had waited to see how long it would take that guy to understand why there wasn’t any response. At one point, our friend had also wondered whether he should send a sms, asking for a rendez-vous, to catch a glimpse of the ardent young man! LOL!!!

A couple of months ago, on my classmate’s birthday, I wished him via sms. It just said, “Happy Birthday. May you always be happy!” Unfortunately the phone number that I had, had been his old one, which he had discarded. A girl then called me up, demanding to know who I was. Apparently it was her number. I apologized profusely. Half an hour later, the girl’s mother called me up, insisting to know why I had messaged her daughter, what were my intentions etc. Again, I apologized to her and told her that I had mistaken that number as my friend’s. An hour later, her father called me up, threatening to tell the police. Fed-up with the whole tamasha and incensed at being falsely accused, I told him that I would call the police if he dared to call me again and hung up. After three more calls, which I did not pick, they never called again. Wow! What a mix-up for a simple, innocent sms!

Several friends have recounted numerous stories, some hilarious, some very weird. That reminds me, when I was in Singapore, last year, I was using an extra sim card which was lying around in my aunt’s home. The first sms I got seemed like an overt pick-up line for a call girl or a male escort. I was shocked. When I showed it to my aunt, she immediately questioned her live-in maid, who had used the sim card some time ago. But the maid had no clue about the smses. She dialed the number, but there was no response. I received about 5 or 6 sms, in regular intervals. Then it stopped abruptly. The guy or the girl must have got tired of waiting!!!

Well, such are the vagaries of our modern day cell phones.

In spite of having new mobiles with slicker designs and greater capabilities, these mistakes do happen and with amazing frequency. That’s because, at some time or the other, it is an individual’s responsibility to either type in a number accurately or store it appropriately. Much depends on our little fingers. And perhaps a little on our ever-decreasing memories which we loathe to tax! Advanced technologies have been able to reduce the risks of human endeavours, but haven’t been able to completely eliminate the need for them.

So till then, we can regal ourselves with similar anecdotes and laugh our heads off. Until we become the victim!!!

Hey, before you go, just a friendly reminder. Be sure to check if your passionate lines haven’t reached your old conservative grand-father, instead of your sweetheart??? It has???? Oh no!!! Don’t worry… It happens… :P

Thursday, June 19, 2008


What is special in our lives? What would we, many years hence, look back on and fondly remember? For me, it is the birthdays. A friend once told me, “What’s the big deal? Everyone was born on some day! You are just getting older, and closer to the day you will die.” That right. That’s one way of looking at it. In the same vein, what, if anything, is special?

In fact, nothing is special. Not a day, not an event, not even a moment is special, unless we feel that it is so. This feeling is highly relative, depending on our personality, and cannot ever be generalized. We decide what remains in our minds, and our lives, as a distinctive memory.

I have always felt that birthdays are special. Perhaps this is due to my growing up in the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. Apart from the obvious excitement and pleasure of being the focus of attention for that day, there is somewhere, deep within me, an untroubled peace and a quiet happiness that anoints the day and makes it unique.
Each one of us, consciously or unconsciously, store in our minds many such “special” moments. They mould our character, therefore, are a significant part of us. They remain with us for the rest of our lives like true and constant friends.

So never forget to hold a moment close to your heart, never forget to make something “special”!