Category Archives: Travel

7 billion Friends

childhood

Childhood

This is for the one that met me last evening: she  may never read this:

I met a beautiful little girl with so much to give, but was afraid of human beings. What kind of fear is that ? When we are afraid of human beings?

 All I wanted for her was to have at least a good friend. How I wish that for you little one – that you would find a friend.  I’ll call her Myra.

She stared at me and returned to her window that looked into a high blank wall. That wall is her friend. The only one she trusts.

Yes, we can write all our words and do all our good works, but alone-ness is a thing we fight most, and am sitting here speechless today, trying to quiet my chaos, with reading other people’s poetry. Other languages. Anything to hide my  own blank walls. These areas where we know so so so little about the 7 billion of us. sharing the same air and water and oxygen and voting rights and goats and airplanes and nice cricket. And pavilions and parenting books and needs. Yes its tough being a parent in this decade of madness. And maybe it tougher being a kid.

 

The post below belongs to Kelly Belmonte, Chief Muse of Allninemuses a program designer, Wife, mother, blogger, published poet, and puttering gardener, she has set down roots in her “discovered country” of New England after emigrating from upstate New York over half a lifetime ago. The “nine” of All Nine is a reference to the nine sister muses of Greek mythology. These inspirational sisters represent multiple domains of creativity and intelligence, from epic poetry to science. For any vision to move from the inside of one person’s eyelids to the physical world where it can make a positive impact, it takes a collaborative effort across multiple disciplines and an openness to many sources of inspiration. 

I love your work Kelly Belmonte. I love the languages within you : inner dialects that know the human heart. Irrespective of where we are born, color, creed, this one thing we share, the need to never be alone. Eastern and Western poets, Mid east and inter-continental…

Listen, You Who Are Alone

We need, at times, to seek out friends.

Friend, one cannot either be born, or come to one’s end,
if not with another. It is good
that friendship strips
the gloom of guilt from work,
that it makes gladness not stolen,
but free.

How can you be all alone when,
at the fullness of time, all things speak at length with you,
and then the morn-star rises?

Here is the Spanish original:

Es necesario, a veces, encontrar compañía.

Amigo, no es posible ni nacer ni morir
sino con otro. Es bueno
que la amistad le quite
al trabajo esa cara de castigo
y a la alegría ese aire ilícito de robo.

¿Cómo podrás estar solo a la hora
completa, en que las cosas y tú hablan y hablan,
hasta el amanecer?
Lee todo en: Apelación al solitario – Poemas de Rosario Castellanoshttp://www.poemas-del-alma.com/rosario-castellanos-apelacion-al-solitario.htm#ixzz2RgyXau4k

 

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Soul Ballet 2

 

I bow to the differences we share,

my respect for your mind, grows,

we are so alike in our multiplicity

it can confuse us both, but please,

stay. Then,

we can meet.

 

ArtPics – Photography

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I hold you close

..my earth.

Your stories of love and birth,

laughter and verse,

crime and streets

of war and peace,

I hold you so close

close,

my earth,

mine.

National Geographic photographer

1,000,000 Pictures

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Peace : Nothing missing nothing broken

 

Sergio Blasco My dear Friend, thank you for this Pic, and a fantastic year ahead..

Photo: TE REGALO EL CORAZON DE LA AMISTAD ESA QUE JAMAS TE DECEPCIONARA

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Peace is expensive

English: Stockholm International Peace Researc...

English: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute 2006 – 15 greatest military expenditures Blue – US$50bn and more Teal – between US$25bn and US$50bn Green – less than US$25bn (but also within the top 15) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peace is a mighty army

 

joy a hyperactive river

 

and Love, a contagion…

 

is the greatest of these

 

the greatest of these.

 

……

 

Peace and Love, Inc.

Peace and Love, Inc. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

(Quotes from the Professor of Whrrr)

 

 

 

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“…to witness the whole earthquake take a journey..”

FEATURES AUTHOR WINSTON PLOWES

MUSE INDIA / Painting “Sitar Player ” – Rayla Noel 

Ghazal ( A Journey)

To feel the pain of loss, take a journey
and leave a trail of love, make a journey.

To uncover Rumi for the first time
and witness the whole earth quake – a journey!

To turn Ghalib’s pages in many tongues
and try never to forsake a journey.

To read Shahid’s last words and feel his light
but never disturb his wake – a journey.

To stand in the footmarks of all these guides
and be mindful not to fake a journey.

To follow, but not behind a blindfold
and listen when friends mistake a journey.

With one eye fixed in the future Winston,
the other in the past – make a journey.

©Winston Plowes 2010 http://www.museindia.com/focuscontent.asp?issid=48&id=4014

Shahid – Agha Shahid Ali (1949-2001)
Ghalib – Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan (1797-1869)
Rumi – Jalâl ad-Dîn Muḥammad Rûmî (1207-1273)

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India : Coffee,Usha Kishore,Vedas,and my suburban-sitar

FOCUS – Poetising IndianHeritage

Poetising Indian Heritage, my contribution,thank you so much Usha Kishore, guest Editor, Muse India, E-Journal, celebrating in this issue,Indian life, from Myths and Heritage, to coffee,temples, music, dance … For more read :http://www.museindia.com/index.asp


Extract :

Rayla Noel

Silences: Rayla Noel

Silences (from Naked Prayers)

Because more often than not,
I begin not to speak, and start to feel
the pulse of an earth dying to be heard,
the voice of my homes
homes i forgot i had
brothers and sisters i left, in my pursuit of
‘ peace’..
forgive me…my silence
teach me how to speak
again.
please.

Sitar Player

My father and I sat in the winter sun
yesterday; his eyes warm with Life
and I wondered that he could be like that
after so much illness, but Joy is a terrific
contagion

and I know Peace is a Sword, piercing thru’
striking Chords we chide, hide within our hushed
celebrations of Life.. Do you hear it seep-warm
stirring waiting – ah Joy is a terrific contagion
rearing Fires ‘ ...where the Head is held high and the mind
fearless…*

* where the mind is without fear … Rabindranath Tagore..

Top

Focus – Poetising Indian Heritage
Editorial
Usha KishorePoetry
Ambereen Visharam
Ami Kaye
Arundhati Subramanian
Ashoka Sen
Bashabi Fraser
Brian D’Arcy
Debjani Chatterjee
Karthika Naïr
Kavita Jindal
Mani Rao
Rayla Noel
Richa Joshi Pandey
Rizio Yohannan Raj
Shanta Acharya
Soumyen Maitra
Sudeep Sen
Tabish Khair
Usha Kishore
Vivekanand Jha
Winston Plowes Translations
Debjani Chatterjee: Of Sanjay Bhattacharya (Bengali)
Priya Sarukkai-Chabria: Of Aandaal (Tamil)
Shankar Rajaraman and Venetia Kotamraju: Of Gangadevi (Sanskrit)
Santhosh Alex: Of Rishabha Deo Sharma and Badrinarayan (Hindi)
Santosh Alex: Of Savithri Rajeevan & Abhirami (Malayalam)
Sarita Varma: Of Manuj Brahmapaad (Malayalam)
Usha Kishore: Of Kalidasa (Sanskrit)Essays
Kameshwari Ayyagari: ‘Sarojini Naidu – Poetising Indian Heritage’
Priya Sarukkai Chabria: ‘My Many Ramayanas’
Sutapa Chaudhuri: ‘Radha Poems of Sarojini Naidu’

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There is so little we know about each other

English: Black Swan, Lake Monger, 2010.

Rare black swan : There is so little we know about each other

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…. .” Marianne Williamson, see belowSimulated gravitational lensing (black hole go...
Image via Wikipedia 

1.

 

 

It is okay,

to be afraid,

say I  am ready to Unlearn;

hey,

I never succeeded as another inter- Genre Experiment.

I am my own:

a bit of you,

My first Black Tulip

I am who I am ( Black Tulip: Power&Strength)

and  Him. And This.

It is okay,

to walk away from destruction : what is there that

we do not  know; even  Unborn Foetus- Bone-

and- Skin display Our Sin :

Who inherits these Crimes We Play,

Who Inhale what We Decay?

Our Babies wear this War

or Peace.

Uh- oh.

 

 

 

2.

 

Is it good  to not Up-date? ( Change , re-arrange ) ?

What is  ” Never Not Too Late,

What is, ” ..never not an option,

to  not search: Us, Him, We, Me..?”

Together We Feast, We die alone, this I know;

de-linked, Links:

We

are not just Culture- Cores,

we are Mixed Tribe – Manicure-ers of Feet

of Clay.

Blood – Ash Indifference.

……….

 

 

 

3.

Oh Lord,  today I saw It in the  Human face :

Excuses,Short cuts;

-Head-Bangers’ Camp-Relief- Art-lorn

Rights’ Commissions-ala – prettily dressed porn –

what goes around comes around – where

where

am I ?

I saw It Lord, took a while:

They said It had gone

with Education and Time,

e’en Soul-Soothe-Galleries and  Tangent- Rhyme;

but It is There, It is Here,

blunt  Black and White and no Debate :

the opposite of Love,

is a fallen Place;

3.

Seen  three Things today,

*  Of Lies & Gore, am blissed-unafraid :

*  That the opposite of Love is not Hate.

*  And how I saw Indifference, in my face.

In my Face.

…..

A Love Hate Masquerade

Image via Wikipedia The opposite of Love is not Hate : it is Indifference

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Each of us, everyone, has a Story to Tell, 

if you would share, say ; if you care,

read on

Thank youChweetzzz!

A 24 year old boy looking out from the train’s window shouted, “Dad, look the trees are going behind!”
Dad  ( an old man ) smiled and a young couple sitting nearby, looked at the 24 year old’s childish behavior with pity, suddenly he again exclaimed, “Dad, look the clouds are running with us!” .
The couple couldn’t resist and said to the old man, “Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?”
The old man smiled and said, “I did and we are just coming from the hospital, my son was blind from birth, he just got his eyes today.”
Black Swan Lake

Black Swan Lake (Photo credit: epSos.de) Each of us 7 billion and some, has a story. Getting to understand each, might scare,encourage,delight,shock,bore, thrill us to pieces; the truth will surprise...

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The Tulip nebula and Cygnus X-1 black hole" What is Man that You are mindful of him ; or the son of man, that You have visited him ...?"

" What is Man that You are mindful of him ; or the son of man, that You have visited him ...?"

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7 billion+ ways of seeing

Way  so  fse  eiNg  wa ysofs eeing, ways of seei

ng by John Berger   ·  228 reviews WAYS OF SEEING

 

 

RANDOM PICTURES AND THOUGHTS ABOUT THE WAY WE USED TO SEE OURSELF, AND THE WAY IT ALL CAN TURN OUT…

 

BELOW : CRICKET BABIES

 

 

Cover of "Ways of Seeing: Based on the BB...
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From encounters with a Friend :
Mr CK, father of four kids,  business man, takes Life  with much humor. Loves  movies, family, veg restaurants and cricket. Recently migrated to  Dubai where we hope they are doing well. His wife Lata having met with an accident was confined to a wheel chair. Rehab and much support has got her back to smiling, functioning like she used to..
” Few years ago, my mind was suddenly a strange place :
suddenly am seeing four children, a wife, a  Life.  And inside I am still the boy I used to be. 18, 19 years of age, carefree, have a hair cut, listen to music, go out with a few friends. Thinking nothing that some peoples’ lives depend on me. Not regretting them. Not that.  But inside the man does not change. Suddenly this happens. The last birthday I was not thinking this way. I had accepted the changes that came when I got married and responsibilities came. Job, rent, house, bought some almirahs, this and that. First child, the others, school  education, birthdays, everything.
The responsibilties grow, demands from society, relatives, not bad things, even job. Suddenly time is not enough. Everybody is changing, each child, even she, myself…
then you have a particular need arising. That is when for me it all came down on my shoulders together, and I want to go back to my native place, see where I grew up, what I was then. I have forgotten so much. That I too used to be a child. Used to laugh, have some fun, you know. Be kiddish. Play jokes on people.
Where have I gone?
How to erase some things that shouldn’t have happened.
Then I can help my children, my wife who is unwell.
a Handicap is not a bad thing in itself, but that we do not know how to handle it. Some one said weapons are not killers. The man who uses it is. The killer.
I am sure we can find a way to handle these things. We should stay with some older ways, words, or ideas.
Then we are finished. I am not finished yet.
I want to feel love again. Now I see everything differently from years ago. Have to learn again. Search again. We only used to eat on plantain leaf and we considered so many things ‘ impure’. Now who has plantain trees ? Who is ‘ pure” ?
What to ” hate”…
Some words we used to use, traditions, I can boldly tell my grandparents it was not worth it. Now that same grandfather has a microwave and what not ! Calls everybody home. Before they had to wash their hands and feet first then enter..
Arrey baap reyy.
( laughs heartily ).
What is Handicap I dont know. If we are always afraid, na, thats the worst handicap. There are some people cannot climb ladders or enter a Lift. Others will make fun of everyone..  Such persons should be kept in isolation wards. These are the ……. ( I dont want to say what I am thinking !)
( excerpts best as I can recall ).
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Man thinking on a train journey.

Image via Wikipedia

Am spending thinking time.

My new friend Sara  has  a way of thinking that startles me, but is delightful.
Maybe we all think too much, “ she says. ” Our forefathers were hard workers. There was this survival of the fittest thing going on. So, no time for luxuries like drooling and fast foods. ….
…. we waste altogether too much time not having fun.Even our ideas of ” Fun” are eventually depressing. And then we must go solving the whole family’s troubles. Let them find their own shoes and socks that went missing. Let them lose grades a bit. We did.  Another thing. I don’t get shocked anymore… nothing! NOthign surprises me. Maybe some good news Haaaaa, but really…”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Hey me going to have some fun now. Let them lose grades. Uh …. Sara, I’ll have to call you to our PTAs ….
( smiling widely) and am going to have to plan ways of shocking you. I have you address you know…
cya soon!
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“You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don’t ever count on having both at once.”
― Robert A. Heinlein
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http://rochestersage.org/2012/03/05/i-want-my-kids-to-fail/  ” Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy,” Robert A Heinlein

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Still looking for my friend Anne

( Be good to my friends, saying it out before they’re gone )

Anne and I were little kids on the village school bus that took us an hour into the city. We were  aged 7 and 8, Anne was taller and stronger, she loved the finer things, and I was happier barefoot in the sands by the sea, watching bow leggy sand crab and tourists in shoes hopping away from waves. Years later we met, I was in college and suddenly taller than my best friend, standing across the road from me, the same exotic high cheek bones. I used to have this stammer and was very shy of even entering a crowded room.

With Anne it was easy ; she was fun and very outdoorsy. We chased butterflies and fed each others’ curiosities : Gopalpur on sea  was a sleepy tourist village thick with cottages, closed doors, cranky old women in scarves and gardens no one dared look at. Droves of tourists  with cameras and sunglasses ; shacks by the sea and Nanke-boy the Shell-seller that would not part with one single shell, Banyan trees with roots to swing off, sand dunes perfect for sliding…between Holiday Inn and Palm Beach. I think right there was when I forgot I had a stammer at all. Right there we did not care that my handwriting was all messed up ‘ cuz I used both hands and wrote in reverse : what a mess!  We wrote our names in those sands fast as we could before the winds swept them away.  One noon I  drew your face in the sand and struggled to get your eyes right. You squealed and said you had stupid eyes. It was shocking ; the way you did not know how pretty you were.

Deutsch: Ein Besucher rennt eine Duene hinunte...

Image via Wikipedia

Anne the Tree Hugger

” Hey Ann,” I said, but she looked away. She hadn’t recognised me.  We used to wear little blue   wool caps that Ma had stitched for us both, how could you forget us ?

Had it been her ? She had looked different in little girl clothes I guess. Racing down the hill at Stella Maris, up the guava tree, back in where her parents spread such a fine meal, within laced curtains and silver tea cups. She was a regular princess, a frock for every morning, shoes and sandals to match and eyes like the stars.

I used to be so tiny I know, skinny arms and feet. So yeah maybe she could not say who I was.

Maybe. To this day I wonder that things had changed so much and we’d never really know how or why.

Hey Anne R., if you ‘re anywhere there, write back. Okay? I loved knowing you : just never told you.

Sand Dunes in the Sutherland Shire, New South ...

Image via Wikipedia

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