saturday musings..

Another nice, sunny, windy and surely a lazy afternoon ..here at Mountainview. I am still limping as my left foot still aches from a hiking escapade i tried last weekend. Hence, am grounded today. Want to write something or do I?... want to read something rather. By the way, I am reading Ayn Rand's 'Foutainhead' these days. The book starts off very well, seems promising, captivating, interesting in the beginning. As I reach the middle chapters, I find it a little unnecessarily verbose. And also somewhat unreasonable. Cause there appear to be some self-contrdictions in the way that Ms. Rand handles characters like Ellsworth Toohey. Mr. Toohey justs behaves so totally different and so all of a sudden in the middle chapters from the way he was introduced to us by the author herself in the beginning chapters. Surely, it may be that I am jumping on to conclusions... i.e there may be some interesting truth in the later chapters yet to be unfolded which explain this awkward behavior.. So, yah, I agree its not justified to comment on the book before reading it. I was just commenting on whatever picture I have in my mind today. And now that I have committed this sin of commenting on it mid-way, I shall have to make-up for it by giving a review once I am through with the book in toto. Well I guess thats it for today.. see u around.. :-)

Memoirs of a Geisha...

An idle weekend made me watch 'Memoirs of a Geisha' among other movies. The last scene of the reunion of the Geisha and the Chairman was particularly moving. Also, its a kind of scene where the action stops and the viewer gets some time to think and reflect from a distance. Here I make an attempt to capture that moment in rhyme. I suggest you watch the movie especially the last scenes, may be some of the things written here would make sense then.

The Time ...

it flies like dead leaves
in the breeze at the eve
it drops like a tear
from the eyes in grief
it warms like a kiss
on the lips in reprieve

its the time that comes
when the storms abate
its late i know
but its not too late

confessions of an amateur writer..

to let loose the things
caged inside my heart
i crave to write them out
but only if words allow me to
be faithful and correct
cause i dont want to be taken wrong
or if that be the problem
the fear to be understood wrong
the desire to not just be true in intent
but be seen so as well..

For I'll be only what I write
for that is only what they'll see
and these are the only words I have
to speak my mind that tells only me
in gestures only, which I cant see.

I look no more, I see no more
I think no more, I feel no more
for when i do, I want to write
of things which myself am not sure
because they look different
at different sites and times.
My heart plays hide and seek
and though I only get to hide it
I myself fail to seek.