Clog Blog

I tried tonight... but couldn't write. It's not the pen... think it's the brain. Lacking the sensation... an inspiration. I need a notion... or may be a potion. Looking around... but nothing could be found. Thoughts are shut... stuck in a rut. Desperate attempts to rhyme... which should be a crime. It sounds tame... and mostly lame. So its time to clog.. this utterly mindless blog.

First night of June

We begin to recite a poem
on the first night of June
The sky filled with stars
but no sign of moon

The heart begins to throb
and pulse becomes fierce
We speak the words with passion
We speak the words with tears

Tears find an eternal refuge
and the pulse quickly fails
She hits the notes of desire
my voice becomes too frail

Her words, metaphor of beauty
my words, nothing but hollow
then her lips start to sing
and mine fail to follow

Your Hands

Your hands tell the tale of
the meeting of two pure hearts,
they know of the nights spent
under the moonlit stars,
wavering and weeping, softly
they whisper into my ears.
Your hands tell the tale
of the spring and the fall,
the seasons of love and lost
they witnessed them all.
Your hands open the gates
that were never shut,
they reached into my heart
and began to strike the strings,
playing the notes of thunder
tenderly at first, rising slowly
it spoke of the raindrops
that witnessed our love
pouring on your skin
cleansing itself.
Your hands spark the fire
intensifying my rage
like the angels ballerina
the flames began to dance
flowing with the sound of thunder
burning my soul…

Your hands, sweet hands,
they tell a tale...

There's a flaw (part ii)

There's a flaw (part i)

"I feel like Kate Winslet from Titanic." She said while standing at the edge of the boat.
"Watch out for the iceberg Rose." I said jokingly

This quest of finding "true happiness" has challenged me to define the way one should live. It seems obvious that we all aspire to live the good life, although people differ in opinion as to what it is. It often gets associated to possessing money and goods. I have yet to find a flaw in one enjoying the fruits of his own honest efforts and strive to attain comfortable living for himself. But if that's the good life then where do we place the existence that helps others, true friendship, love, service, giving, character, growth, and spirituality? If the goal is to attain happiness, should we be prepared to sacrifice? And if it leads to our own happiness, then is it really considered a sacrifice?

"If I were to drown, would you come for my rescue?" she asked
"without a doubt." I quickly responded

I had already ruled out the path of attaining true happiness ever meeting the path of satisfying our own material desires. But I can't ignore the role of these desires in living the good life. The notion of reaching for bigger and better seems to be a popular goal in life. If this gets associated with accumulation of wealth, then by simple mathematical formula, the standards will continue to increase unless we fall into the Great Depression again. I can't help but blame the society for doing it's best to raise these standards and continue to feed our desires.

Hellen Keller says: "Happiness cannot come from without. It must come from within. It is not what we see and touch or that which others do for us which makes us happy; it is that which we think and feel and do, first for the other fellow and then for ourselves."

I don't know how to swim.

This blog is inspired by the song Society by Eddie Vedder from the motion picture soundtrack of Into the Wild.

4 am...

Eyes are dazed and head is turning... body is shut but the heart is running... the clock keeps ticking ... tick tock tick tock... why is it so loud? I wish it would stop... I am feeling thirsty and my mouth is dry... it'd be easy if I could only cry... drank some water and tried to pray... forgive me God, if I went astray... spare my soul and end this war... why won't slumber knock my door?

Perspective (A Short Film)

Camera queues in red
Audio queues and narrations in blue (narration italicized)

Opens with the closeup shot of 'A Camera Lens'
Next shot: the view of the students in lecture hall from teacher's angle
Sound of Professor walking in from behind the camera
(professor is not visible to the camera)

Professor starts to teach: "Let's take a look at Phaedo"

Camera slowly focuses on students randomly stopping for few seconds while student's thoughts are narrated

David: I still feel sore from the workout...

(Professor's voice indistinct)

Cati: If only I could understand Plato...

(Professor's voice indistinct)

Ryanne: I should knit a sweater for mom...

(Professor's voice indistinct)

Julianna: I've got to catch up on my reading...

(Professor's voice indistinct)

Gayle: Hmm.. he's got a point...

(Professor's voice disappears)

(Complete silence for 2 seconds)

Cameraman's hand becomes visible holding a gun

Sound effect of a loud Gunshot!

Camera drops to the floor

Upside down shot of the white board that says:

"Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?"

For the students of NIU, Virginia tech, Columbine and several other schools who got victimized by deadly shootings. May the souls of those who died, rest in peace and may God bless the families and friends with courage to deal with their loss.

Absent Ornament

Is it ok to ignore
the mistakes you say I made
Is it ok to care
for the dreams we shared

You ask me why I try to win
you ask me why I dare
If you care to look for an answer
You'll find it in the way you stare

Your silence gives it away
and your tears make it clear
warning of the moment to come
it's the moment that I fear

and so I sit here
thinking....

is it ok to care
for the one who was never there?

Om is listening to Belle and Sebastian

Stop n' Go

I gave her a hug, thinking this might be the last time I'll have her in my arms, grabbed my bags and stood there until I could no longer see her car.

It was a wrong terminal, wrong airline or maybe the wrong time. I passed out in the waiting room, my first nap in past 48 hours. I was then chased by an ax murderer in my dream, she looked much like the lady behind the check-in counter of a local museum. I started running. I ran past a dripping chocolate fountain, a torn down mummy, a magician with an annoying laugh and a Jazz concert. Too late for the band's opening performance, but made it right on time for a big (relatively speaking) surprise, when a hefty boy professed his love for his girlfriend and asked her to marry him. I started running again when the wedding proposal was followed by a loose dog announcement by the Jazz master.

"Would you like something to drink", asked the blond hair lady with long legs, petite body and straight posture. I expected the ax murderer but she had given up long ago. Before I could answer her, I tried to contemplate how I ended up in the airplane from the waiting room? It's often difficult for me to differentiate reality from dreams. I prefer dreams over reality but I also recognize that reality is the only place to get good food. Failing to make sense of the situation I ignored it all together and closed my eyes again. I think she got the point and moved on.

I decided to run back. The Jazz played, the magician laughed and the fountain dripped. And this time, I saw it all in her eyes. "It is 65 degrees in Chicago", the pilot announced. I looked out the window, and thought "Wow, It looks so much like google earth, just less interactive."

Om enjoys the ambiance of The Melting Pot

Shhh..

Eyes, wide shut
last call from tavern, missed
but the wine drips

Come, she says.

Glasses, misty
rain sneaks in, heavy
vigil jitters

Breathe, she says.

Muted, beautiful,
naive chalice, shattered
desired but unwelcome

Drink, she says.

Aroma, faint
indistinct moan, deceitful
begins to utter

Shhhh, She says.

There's a flaw

"How far will you go?" she asked.
"Until I get a Nobel Prize" I said.
She chuckled.

I continue to search for understanding "true happiness". I have observed the notion of satisfying one's own desires to attain comfort; I have also observed this notion continue to fail. There's a flaw. I have found that since one's own desires will, without fail conflict with others, so satisfying one's own needs invariably inflicts suffering on others. Do we enjoy the suffering of others? I am starting to believe that the path of satisfying our own desires might never meet the path of attaining true happiness.

"I'll take the filet mignon" she said to the waiter. "Medium well please" she added.
"I'll have the same" I said.
She squinted.

It still seems unreasonable to give up all our desires, as it would be an economical disaster. So material development stays and so does satisfying our basic needs, but expecting to attain true happiness through it all seems unreasonable. Practicing patience, care and compassion while we pursue our desires might be the only way to keep us from causing pain and suffering to others.

Dalai Lama says: "I sometimes find it helpful to imagine myself standing as a single individual on one side, facing a huge gathering of all other human beings on the other side. Then I ask myself, 'Whose interests are more important?' To me it is quite clear that however important I may feel I am, I am just one individual while others are infinite in number and importance".

I forgot to tip.

Om can't get enough of Dalai Lama

Timmy's new plan

*ring ring*

"Timmy"
Baker: Hello?
"Timmy"
Yeah, Mr. president.... that war in Iraq... yeah... umm not a good idea.
"Timmy"

Hamilton: Hello?
"Timmy"
Mr President, I don't think you understand. Those troops you sent.... yeah, don't think you should've done that.
"Timmy"

Reid: Hello?
"Timmy"
Sir, yeah... i don't think Dems are gonna be behind you with this whole more troops business
"Timmy"

Nancy: Hello?
"Timmy"
No Sir, it isn't happening. I strongly oppose it. It hasn't worked before and it won't work now.
"Timmy"

Duncan: Hello?
"Timmy"

umm I am afraid, it's a negative from some of us Repubs too.
"Timmy"

Cheney: "Timmy"
"Timmy"
"Timmy"
"Timmy"
"Livin a lie"
"Timmy"
"Timmy"

Merry Prisoner

Whispers... fidgety... sweating bullets
sluggish... dazed... more whispers
Tears... dejection... blues
and then... a smile!

Is it something I said?
Or something I held back?
Is there a sign you seek?
or is there something I lack?

Must I weep to make you believe?
or should i break to make you conceive?

The roaring sea around me,
Is it not of tears?
These gloomy dark clouds that you see,
Are they not my fears?

In this circus of emotions,
I am a slave to my handicap.
Imprissoned in the cage of desire,
struggling to reach your hand,
But you're blinded by the marquee,
and I am too weak to be unchained.

L.B.D

Silence of the night
creeping inside of me
why does everything seem still
why doesn't anyone speak

Why all these people
yet it seems hollow
I can see the gushy lips
but can't seem to follow

Oh what a shouting beauty
and everything else appears placid

Oh what a stinging sensation
and the rest feels numb

Oh what a staunch desire
against the torpid ego

Is it the moon
Or that little black dress.

Broken Ornament (12/24/xx)

I had been there before but today was different. That ugly piece of beautiful lying naked on top of me. "Where will this go", I asked and he smiled. He pinned me down gently and bit my lower lip then whispered something in my ear. I couldn't make out of what he said but I knew it was a tacit suggestion to lie still. I could feel the cold wind piercing out of the broken glass of the window. I tried to look out but it was obstructed by an old austere Christmas tree covered with tacky ornaments. Some cracked, some stained and rusty. I studied the tree carefully hoping to find one fine ornament and I did. It was beautiful, well burnished, white and luminous. Hanging on the edge of an anemic branch. I was afraid it was going to fall. I felt a heavy breeze and the fortiuitous ornament landed on a dirty santa doll supported by yet another anemic branch. My teary eyes were pierced on the beautiful ornament. I didn't want it to break. I lied still and there it came. Another breeze.

Om supports RAINN

Fear of Rejection

I think it worked tonight. I played all my cards right. This dude is trapped. He's not going to sleep tonight, that I am sure of. I know exactly how it's going to play out. He's going to walk into that fancy Brazilian restaurant, probably wearing his favorite black sweater. He's going to forget to smile at first, something he does when he's nervous. Then he'll start out by asking how I'm doing, followed by a compliment and some small talk. He will look around occasionally to catch his breath but I'll keep a constant stare at him to make him a little more uncomfortable. Somewhere in the midst of dinner he will work up the courage to tell me, he will first wipe the sweat off his forehead and then maybe prolong the question with some sort of disclaimer and then it will come. His face will start blushing starting from his ears; He'll try to make some subtle physical contact but will himself shy away. I'll look directly at him and keep a straight face the entire time. He'll pop the question and boom, I'll shoot him down aiming straight for his heart. I have great aim. He waited too long.

I think it's my cue to act. Oh, I can't sleep tonight. It's making me nervous. How am I going to do this? Oh come on, it can't be that difficult. I'll put on something nice, maybe my black sweater. It makes me look thin. I'll walk into the Brazilian restaurant, greet her with a smile, act cool and ask her about her day. Compliments come naturally when I see her, so that will carry the conversation. I'll look around to familiarize myself with the space around us, try to capture the moment. Oh, I hope she's not too attentive, her eyes make me nervous. I will then reach for her hands and calmly ask her what I have been longing for. Oh, who am I kidding? She’ll probably shoot me down and break my heart. It's probably not the right time. Maybe I should wait a little longer.

Om liked the story telling in Melinda and Melinda

Oops I did it again

I can't help but notice that there's a striking similarity in the careers of Bush and Britney

Bush faced a major challenge when America came under terrorist attack on 9/11.

Poor Britney got dumped by a n'stink heartthrob and cried him a river.

Bush decided to go after Iraq in search of WMDs.

Britney went in search for true love.

Bush didn't find WMDs but he got Saddam.

Britney got intoxicated and found true love in a self acclaimed rappist K-Fed.

This is when America started praying for our beloved Britney and Bush.

Brtiney popped out a baby to prove her true love - America prayed more.

Bush used establishing democracy in Iraq to cover the WMD blunber and sent more troops.

Britney said to hit her one more time and popped out one more baby.

Bush got pressured by the rest of the world, he decided to send more troops.

They both came to a point where there was a decission to be made. Several commisions, Experts, world leaders and even advisors suggested that going into Iraq might have been a mistake. But we're still seeing our beloved Bush with that same smile on his face stating: "Whether you're with us or against us", who is this "us" are we referring to? 38% of Americans? What does it take to admit that there's a boo boo that has been made? How about an apology? It's maddening that there's no cost of being wrong, even if it translates to thousands of people dead and billions of dollars down the drain.

Well Atleast our Britney realized what she had done and left K-Fed. Let's see what our presidents next move is? Let me guess. more troops?

What is she talking about?

Love brings pain so if you want to avoid pain, you should avoid Love. But it's painful not to be loved. Which means you'll be in pain regardless of love or not. But if you want to be happy you're gonna have to love which means to be happy you'll have to experience pain. But then again pain makes you unhappy. Does that mean love makes you unhappy? If so, then to avoid this pain you must not love but if you want to be happy you might have to live with pain. Wait a minute, is this a trap?

Om enjoyed watching Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind

Rest in peace

The night was blue, not because of hard day at work, not because those stupid Indian soaps that were pissing me off and not even after an argument with Object. Nothing managed to shake off a thought of a dear friend so close to loosing a loved one. I kept thinking how he must have been sitting on that orange chair recalling every sweet moment that he spent with his loved one his entire life. Slumber somehow caught up to me until my phone rang in the middle of the night, which I wish, was a bad dream but it wasn’t.

The morning was gloomy, everything felt worthless. I started to recall the marriage proposal I witnessed last evening, I remember feeling so happy for the couple and until last evening I was only imagining how beautiful it is to be able to commit to someone for rest of your life. But this morning “rest of your life” didn’t seem enough. How limited is this lifetime?

I was terrified. It wasn’t just feeling for a friend anymore at the funeral. Now is when my selfish instincts started kicking in. I pictured myself standing at his position, I was stunned, and I kept asking myself if I could ever have courage to face this? How much of my parent’s life have I missed already and how much more is left for me to catch on to? Would I ever be able to collect more memories? And if I do, wouldn’t it make it more difficult? Should I be worried about how difficult it would be for me to part or should I be worried about providing whatever it is that I can to my loved ones before its time so there are less regrets? I look up again and this time there’s a kid playing with the puddle of mud on the side unaware of what is happening around him. I wanted to be that kid!

Ornaments that fell (in love)

"Ofcourse I am. I have felt that tingly feeling in my heart several times before", I said in response to object's analysis of my incapability of ever falling in love or expressing my emotions. She nodded with a smile and I got out of the car. I had to replay the whole conversation in my mind before going to bed which made me think back and remember all the times I felt butterflies for someone.

Surely, object was wrong it all started in the elementary school where I remember standing up to this bully who was trying to take her lunch money.

I remember the time in middle school when I sold all my cds to my friend to buy that necklace for her, hell I even remember imitating this lover from some cheesy Indian movie and wrote a letter with my blood when she decided to never see me again.

What about that time when I would stay up and talk to her all night long and sometimes she would fall asleep but I would stay on the phone just to hear her breathe.

I remember the bet with my friends to jump off the balcony if I truly loved her which I fearlessly did and ended up in the hospital. All the pain was worth when she brought me flowers and kissed my forehead.

I remember the letters, the greeting cards, that box full of her little gifts. I remember the day dreaming, those subtle eye contacts and those fights over small things that ended up with a trail of I love yous.

Wait a minute. That wasn't me was it? It was those damn ornaments. I guess object is right once again.

So she says...

Poor soul I see,
searching for something.

"What is it that I am searching for?",
she asks.

She asks her pals,
who say it all with their eyes.

So she turns to the mirror,
that glances back at her with confusion.

So she turns to me,
I lack the answer.

So she turns to her soul,
that direct her to God.

So she asks her God,
and then only she finds...

"The perfection?",
"The truth?",
"The satisfaction",
I ask.

"The search",
She says.

Om highly recommends Conference of the Birds