Whats in a name

Shriek it went,

and they all erupted,

Its the river, Nah! Its the sun-they fought,

until the mystery woman that they finally caught,

so many pairs of eyes and ears, rapt on those two pink lips,

this time they didnt want her to slip,

amidst pecks and hugs, there were many, for some there werent any,

but SHE lay famished, waiting to see, even if it was neither the sun or the river,

THEY began the battle, what should be the name?

SHE cried with pain, but they thought of joy,

SHE cried with joy, they never knew why......

Many a tune, many a rhythm

Many a tune, many a rhythm,

Just one man, I cant fathom,

All that I feign is just ignorance,

this man is all providence,

sixty seven golden years,

thou has lived,

marudhanayagam is all I am waiting for, to say I too lived,

under your lordship,

Oh Lord! Oh Raja!

Many a tune, many a rhythm.....

I won't give up to give up

Giving up.....mmh, well, this is what I am going to rant about in this article of mine. What is it liking giving up? All of us know it, we have been there-done that. To think that giving up is an attitude of the basement weak guys would immediately allow our altar egos to tear out of us and stare at us, with red blood shot eyes. There are no permanent basement guys, nor are there permanent steel body guys, all of us blink at some point, like Aadhinarayanan says in Kuruthipunal, "every man has got a breaking point".....it is that precise breaking point, that I would prefer calling as giving up, to me it is also another instinct of survival, thats distinct, probably not of the fittest, of the weakest, those who are weak in the minds, those who would inspire and instill confidence into the barriers unto demonising themselves..Again Kamal comes in handy here, "what is fearlessness? acting as though I fear nothing"...every one fears, its how much you cushion it within you than show it......so then giving up, is what we do everyday, we give up , giving up sleep, and remain within the confines of the bed, until we need to give up on our giving up-giving up sleep....this is getting more like Visu's monologues....It is strange and true that we talk about luck, only because we have practiced giving up to such a great extent, that we would stay humble on succeeding....(everything is relative damn it, and not that I am preaching haughtiness)....Giving up then is just a view point, a vantage view point, may not be a safe point for us to view a situation, because you need to disassociate yourself from it...its can be called an art of vying to exit the house first when its on fire...all of us do it damn it...failure to be human is also part of this systematic tendency of mankind of being unkind..our giving up on moral anger (dharmeega kobam) which directors of all movies have failed to give up in their scripts, and we have feasted upon..without realizing that we are laughing at ourselves, that all those small let offs have snowballed into where we stand today...in a country where we have the maximum number of engineers being churned out, they become the butter milk, than becoming the butter...we have a shortage of faculty in all our central institutions (TOI-2nd Jan 2010).....we can give up on a lot of things but least of all on humanity...giving up on situtaions is one thing, but giving up on humanity is giving up ourselves, every birth is for a purpose, whatever be the faith-rational or agnostic or theistic, we dont deny that we are born with a purpose, we are the same people who find it fashionable to give up on the theory of karma, but we embrace Newtons thirds law, both of which are essentially, emphatically and non-enigmatically the same.....this is perplexing to all right thinking individuals, who are trying to give up-giving up the right things, at the right time...sustained anxiety of all of us in little ways will go a long way in building humanity, everything is nature and nature is God and vice versa, God and Nature are like the mother and motherhood, its through one we feel the other...they are the highest embodiments of properly manifested energy forms...no child is born without a struggle, our birth is by adamance, the struggle....is it not our birth right to then not give up ourselves and to give up our-selfs'......struggle is my birth right and I shall have it....

Adamancy-பிடிவாதம்

It was my friend Venky (Kai) who suggested that I write on this topic, a couple of days back. I wouldn't have written on this, had I not seen two classics yesterday, one-the heavy, Varumaiyin Niram Sivappu and two-Sila Nerangalil Sila Manidhargal (adapted from Jayakanthan's work with the same title). The common line between the two films, adamancy of Rengan to adhere to his (idealistic) principles, and Ganga to her decision. At the end of it all, what made all the difference, was Rengan's philosophy of acceptance of what he got, whereas, Ganga doesn't settle, rather she prefers to remain unsettled. The names of the two characters, to me has a lot more significance, maybe it was not intended to be that way. Rengan, the lord of Srirengam, one who will come down at the call of his devout (irangi varuvan, avane Arangan), and so does our Rengan, who not only comes down heavily at the false hood surrounding him, but also relents and accepts Devi (against his idealistic instincts), in a manner like how the lord Rengan, accepted Kodhai. Ganga, she washes our sins, yesterday-today-tomorrow, only to remain impure! So does our Ganga, washes the sins of her uncle, and also the man who led her to now(-)here, only to remain undeviated in her stance, to remain impure, try as much as she would to become a wife, but she only continues to feed the insatiable hunger of the gossip mongers, like the holy mother (as she herself says), thus remaining unclean. Getting back on track, adamancy, is it a positive trait or a negative one? is it a trait at all? to answer which, I think I have to take a radical stance before which, I must say there are two kinds of adamancy, one that is bordering on vow, and the other based on mentally conceived designs. The former, if for the good, like Rengan's, doesn't quite harm anyone, but for the one who harps on it (again debatable), the latter is what Ganga is hell bent upon. So, lets say adamancy per se is not a negative trait, however would I classify it as a trait? well maybe, maybe not....Heres why....

Taking off from where we would all relate to, Love, the name or definition given to human emotional and hormonal (im)balances and urges, is it not a form of adamancy? We have a conceived design, of completeness rather a feeling of it, we refuse to live with anyother. Why? because we refuse to share love with one and all, because our definition of love is flawed, because we expect returns of some form, because it is temperamental, because it is based on conveniences....we refuse to change our perception about love, we are adamant.....love is universal and also a methodical mental construct, however it has got no definition, thats the adamancy of the feeling of love itself! Every friendship is love, an undercurrent of it, pretending otherwise would blurt our ignorance, and ignorant we will be, because we are adamant....moving on to life itself, from love and friendship, not that they are not related to the other, there is this detached-attachment of life with love and friendship, but life in itself adamant, living is adamancy not to die, so adamancy could also be related to basic human instinct, an evolutionary principle of survival of the fittest...Oh, so all of us are adamant, yes we are, as we ought to be....So then where is this leading to, I started of with one question, is adamancy positive or negative, and here I am, saying, well not quite, I espouse and vouch that life is adamancy and adamancy is life, to demystify which we need to use the sixth sense, which is again adamant....Oh God, he is adamant too...அன்பே சிவமேன்றலும், அன்பும் சிவனும், இரண்டுமே பிடிவாதமே, இது வெறும் வாதம் அல்ல ...

I just can have enough .....

Hmmm....Thoughts,

emotions and hormones overflow,

at the very image,

rather the imagined visuals,

of one so far, so near,

so distinct, instinctively distinct,

the blush that I haven't seen,

the sense that I haven't felt,

the gust that hits me,

albeit a gust of emotion,

to forget the outrageous past,

the future beckons ,

the completeness that I wish, I wish would happen......

But one.....

So many forms I must take,

So many forms I must not,

for I am but one, If I do......

THE SILENCE OF THE SYMPHONY..

Amidst the silence of the gurgling stream,

punctuated by the playful plunges of those little mermaids,

he paints you golden, red and green,

man intervenes in between,

for gains his own,

but at the pain thy known,

the pain of new distances,

the pain of hindrances,

but, above it all the pain of life,

when the difference between bi(mi)rth and death,

ceases to exist,

the pain that thee wants to undergo,

the pain that will silence the silence of the gurgling stream,

and the change the course forever,

to me, thy always reminds of the pebbles, of the splash, of the sound, of the music, of symphony........

Deluge!

Contented and happy,
was life, depsite her absence,
with the two streaks of joy ,
that she had left behind.

In came an intrinsic intruder,

an uncalled for advertisement,

smouldering desire,

chasing illusion,

the seduction begins.

The wily viler,
charmed him thoroughly,
and there it goes,
the fortress crumbles.

Trapped and forlorn,

within four walls,

unable to bear the agony,

of not being with his joyous two,

leaving a few stones turned,

hurt and bruised,

he finds solace with a new lass.

All hell breaks loose,
one streak loses her sheen,
to pimps and satyrs,
another loses path,
only to find one,
the good old lady bites dust.

Back into the bad world,

angered and wounded,

by the lack of anger,

stumbling upon the lost meteor,

doing the balancing act.

Setting in search of his other joy,
ironically to the city of joy,
only to be chided,
beaten by bouncers,
but finding light at the end of the tunnel,
a dirtied angel rescues him and her.

Back home,

grieved and devastated by his joys dreams,

he leaves his lovely lass,

to avenge,

the death of the old woman,

the lost sweet dreams,

the missed childhood,

only to find the viler,

was just the tip of the wheeler.

The lecher,

who left nightmares etched,

incorrigible and contemptible,

would join hands but disjoint too,

removing a lot of filth,

Finally he emerges from the deluge,

Bruised, battered and shatterd,

But at last, clearly-Disillusioned.

PS: This piece is an attempt at telling a tale already told in a Tamil film of Kamal Haasan, If you can identify let me know, post it at the comments, of course with your names.