Unfortunately I lost my ids and links for most of my earlier blogs with my hard disk crash. Could not remember them as I have not blogged for the past two months. Whatever i have on other media I've put it here on this sunday. Will try to retrieve other older posts also.
Rahul
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Toc Tic
The international advertising for this product (the 'toc tic' idea)walked away with the Gold at Cannes in the year 2002 . so what do I do ...Ha Ha my take on the theme.
The View With A Window 2
On the ridge when you look up you see this natural umbrella silhouetted against clouds, real dark clouds about to burst into action ...
The View With A Window 1
It was a normal drive through the countryside, a trip with friends. Then I saw ...I had to click this...There are times when you need to look at mundane things and say God!! it's beautiful . Thank you. It was the texture , the color, the arrangement, it actually beats simple logic . We take for granted lot of things...mmm..No I do not intend to degress into sermons about creator and would be the last one to apply for the preacher's post ........but the sheer beauty ...the sheer beauty...
The Patriot
In 2003 I visited a recruitment drive for the Army near my place. I spoke with a lad who was around 22, a soldier who was there on official duty. He spoke to me about his feelings during combat.
The blazing tyrant was glaring mercilessly from the sky,
I didn’t shout or swear but bade him goodbye.
Gave my predicament a chuckle,
As it was no time to buckle.
Woods in fairy tales fascinate,
In reality better not contemplate.
Now found I myself powerless,
Life or death I was clueless.
I yearned for the safety of the womb,
But quailed, God might grant me the tomb.
Fear often mothers nostalgia in vein,
The ultimate result is exasperation and pain.
Patriotism nor thrill for action could bring me here,
But five poverty stricken figures were not mere.
Years before, I remember standing below the shining tyrant openly,
Poverty peering through my undergarment brazenly.
Never thought of sucked into the vortex of the fight,
The thin line between life and death is the privilege of the knight.
It’s easier said than done,
For I was the chosen one.
Now stood I here feelings bulldozed by gunshot,
My Kalashnikov grinned at me ready for potshot.
Maybe I become a war hero tomorrow,
But odds favor being stripped to the marrow.
To enjoy what you cherish,
It’s important not to perish.
To die for a plate of rice,
Is what you pay as the price.
The blazing tyrant was glaring mercilessly from the sky,
I didn’t shout or swear but bade him goodbye.
Gave my predicament a chuckle,
As it was no time to buckle.
Woods in fairy tales fascinate,
In reality better not contemplate.
Now found I myself powerless,
Life or death I was clueless.
I yearned for the safety of the womb,
But quailed, God might grant me the tomb.
Fear often mothers nostalgia in vein,
The ultimate result is exasperation and pain.
Patriotism nor thrill for action could bring me here,
But five poverty stricken figures were not mere.
Years before, I remember standing below the shining tyrant openly,
Poverty peering through my undergarment brazenly.
Never thought of sucked into the vortex of the fight,
The thin line between life and death is the privilege of the knight.
It’s easier said than done,
For I was the chosen one.
Now stood I here feelings bulldozed by gunshot,
My Kalashnikov grinned at me ready for potshot.
Maybe I become a war hero tomorrow,
But odds favor being stripped to the marrow.
To enjoy what you cherish,
It’s important not to perish.
To die for a plate of rice,
Is what you pay as the price.
to be or not to be
One of my friends expressed his anguish about his relationship with his steady of 5 years.
His concern in my words
“She has a face to kill for
A body to die for
Fragrance of Camphor
Wit not even to pilfer”
BOL friend.
His concern in my words
“She has a face to kill for
A body to die for
Fragrance of Camphor
Wit not even to pilfer”
BOL friend.
Paulo O Paulo
“A writer always wears glasses and never combs his hair. Half the time he feels angry about anything and everything and other half depressed. He spends most of his life in bars, arguing with other disheveled, bespectacled writers. He says very ‘deep things’ .He always has amazing ideas for his next novel and hates the one he has just published.” Paulo’s findings—from research when he decided to become a writer ages ago— conforms to our stereotypical image of artists in general.
In our country, and possibly in many other countries, there have been writers who have inspired youth to grow beard, smoke weed and to oppose anything and everything! The cleverest of them are those who sit in their Presidential Suites and whip up sordid tales of regression and pessimism combined with mandatory alcohol abuse. However, those were the sixties, the influence of which stretched up to the eighties.
Today a writer( and even a non-writer—read celebrity—who becomes one by default because of his/her scandelous life style) is known by the millions he/she is paid in advance for some callous cacophony of pulp fiction or anecdotes about his/her titillating experiences to be churned out some time in the future! Thanks to the one scandalous piece of arrogance in the past which has enlivened the spirits of the self-styled clairvoyant group from glick-land who’ll put up their hand on every given opportunity to oppose norms. Not that it’s important to tow the linear line.
“A writer has a duty and obligation never to be understood by his own generation…”. How true, even though speaking only about writers here it again holds good for artists in general, albeit of yester years. Those were the times when lunacy and artistic talent went hand in hand; precisely why they were immortalized and viewed through rose-tinted glasses by the coming generations, but shunned by their own generation. There was a mystic aura about them which lived through various tales over the years and made legends out of these writers, especially if they had kicked the bucket at a very young age. In stark contrast, the contemporary author craves for attention—media attention to be precise—as his purpose is served only when he becomes a page three celebrity.
“When invited to say what he is reading at the moment, a writer always mentions a book no one has ever heard of”. It gives them credibility and a chance to fortify their importance in society, and to be perceived by the ignorant folks baffled by the depth of knowledge of this great person.
I have not listed all the findings. And you know what was the most interesting of them all which I kept for denouement … the fact that the writer never uses the 3000 common words used by the common man. He always chooses from the other 3 lakh plus words in English language!!! (Note that in the original text Paulo has mentioned around 2 lakh which he might have meant keeping in mind the Portuguese dictionary)
All said and done there are men like Paulo himself who is not a one book wonder nor has he scandalized his way to stardom, but has touched the hearts of many by the depth of meaning and message in his writing. I feel it unfortunate that this great man—even though for marketing reasons— is still introduced on every new book cover of his as the “Author of ‘THE ALCHEMIST’”–Paulo Coelho.
In our country, and possibly in many other countries, there have been writers who have inspired youth to grow beard, smoke weed and to oppose anything and everything! The cleverest of them are those who sit in their Presidential Suites and whip up sordid tales of regression and pessimism combined with mandatory alcohol abuse. However, those were the sixties, the influence of which stretched up to the eighties.
Today a writer( and even a non-writer—read celebrity—who becomes one by default because of his/her scandelous life style) is known by the millions he/she is paid in advance for some callous cacophony of pulp fiction or anecdotes about his/her titillating experiences to be churned out some time in the future! Thanks to the one scandalous piece of arrogance in the past which has enlivened the spirits of the self-styled clairvoyant group from glick-land who’ll put up their hand on every given opportunity to oppose norms. Not that it’s important to tow the linear line.
“A writer has a duty and obligation never to be understood by his own generation…”. How true, even though speaking only about writers here it again holds good for artists in general, albeit of yester years. Those were the times when lunacy and artistic talent went hand in hand; precisely why they were immortalized and viewed through rose-tinted glasses by the coming generations, but shunned by their own generation. There was a mystic aura about them which lived through various tales over the years and made legends out of these writers, especially if they had kicked the bucket at a very young age. In stark contrast, the contemporary author craves for attention—media attention to be precise—as his purpose is served only when he becomes a page three celebrity.
“When invited to say what he is reading at the moment, a writer always mentions a book no one has ever heard of”. It gives them credibility and a chance to fortify their importance in society, and to be perceived by the ignorant folks baffled by the depth of knowledge of this great person.
I have not listed all the findings. And you know what was the most interesting of them all which I kept for denouement … the fact that the writer never uses the 3000 common words used by the common man. He always chooses from the other 3 lakh plus words in English language!!! (Note that in the original text Paulo has mentioned around 2 lakh which he might have meant keeping in mind the Portuguese dictionary)
All said and done there are men like Paulo himself who is not a one book wonder nor has he scandalized his way to stardom, but has touched the hearts of many by the depth of meaning and message in his writing. I feel it unfortunate that this great man—even though for marketing reasons— is still introduced on every new book cover of his as the “Author of ‘THE ALCHEMIST’”–Paulo Coelho.
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