Samskara.

By far the most important thing that I've read this year. Samskara by our beloved URA.

"...ಮರಗಳ ಕೊಂಬೆಗಳು ಕೊಟ್ಟ ರೂಪಕ್ಕೆ ಬಿಸಿಲು ಪಡೆಯುವ ರಂಗವಲ್ಲಿಯಂತೆಯೇ ಸದ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ಇರಲಿ ಮನಸ್ಸು, ನಿರಂಬಳ ತೆರೆದುಬಿಡಲಿ. ಗಗನದಲ್ಲಿ ಬೆಳಕು, ಮರದ ಕೆಳಗೆ ನೆರಳು, ನೆಲದ ಮೇಲೆ ರಂಗವಲ್ಲಿ. ಭಾಗ್ಯವಿದ್ದು ತುಂತುರಿನ ಸ್ಪರ್ಶವಾದರೆ ಕಾಮನಬಿಲ್ಲು. ಜೀವ ಬಿಸಿಲಿನಂತಿದ್ದುಬಿಡಬೇಕು. ಬರಿಯ ಒಂದು ಎಚ್ಚರವಾಗಿ, ಬರಿಯ ಒಂದು ಅಚ್ಚರಿಯಾಗಿ. ಆಕಾಶದಲ್ಲಿ ರೆಕ್ಕೆಗಳನ್ನು ಹರಡಿ ಸ್ತಬ್ದ, ತೃಪ್ತ ತೇಲುವ ಗರುಡನಂತೆ."

— ಸಂಸ್ಕಾರ , URA.

Voices.

Voices in my head,
Chanting, 'Kisses. Bread.
Prove yourself. Fight. Shove.
Learn. Earn. Look for love,'

Drown a lesser voice,
Silent now of choice:
'Breathe in peace, and be
Still, for once, like me.'

— Vikram Seth.

A Sunday afternoon, bookspine ( semblance of a ) poem.

Convolutions.

Noor Inayat died fighting for British in WW II. Her great grandpa, Tippu, had once died fighting against.

Both were betrayed.

Borges.

This poem by Jorge Luis Borges ( pronounced something like Hor-hay Loo-is Bor-hayss ) is an absolute gem, me thinks. Now I can't wait to get my hands on this collection of his poetry.

 You Learn.

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn..
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth...

And you learn and learn...

With every good-bye you learn.

-- Jorge Luis Borges

Update: As it was pointed by some anonymous kind spirit in the comments section, there is some confusion about the attribution of this poem. A quick google search seems to suggest that It is indeed a translation of a Borges poem called 'Aprendiendo' by Veronica A. Shoffstal, but the original poem by Borges seems to be much longer than this version. So, I'm not sure about the authenticity of the translation itself.

Nevertheless, I still love the poem for what it has to say and more for the fact that it introduced me to Borges who's book of selected poems I'm totally enjoying right now. I like the ending in Borges's spanish version though, which seems to say :

...And with every day, you lean.

There's a poem in there somewhere
blocking my sleep, trudging relentlessly on.

I ask to be left alone tonight :
"I've had a bad day", dog tired and
pissed off at human kind in general.

"Even better!" said the poem,
"It's precisely that venom, I thrive in"
"In that ache, I'm born."

But, "I'm in no mood to pick those words
carefully, arrange and rearrange them".
write, scratch, write, throw it in the bin
and write again. "I'm dog tired", remember?

She left — the poem, with my sleep
in her breast pocket and left a dream behind.
I picked it up  and wrote these — not so
carefully chosen words.

On Shattering a Story.

"It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream carried around carefully like a piece of  porcelain. To let it be, to travel with it, as Velutha did, is much the harder thing to do."

— Arundhati Roy, The God Of Small Things