| Closing Time |
[Apr. 10th, 2009|01:27 am] |
After more than 8 years of anonymous blogging (7 of them, on LJ), I've finally decided to close this blog and move elsewhere, out of the shadows. This almost-decade of anonymity and writing-in-seclusion has been good and bad. Hopefully, I learned from it things I wouldn't have learned otherwise. It has been a constant companion through innumerable discussions, endless nights, and days -- happy and sad -- and I've enjoyed writing here at the odd hours of the dawn or just about whenever inspiration hit me in the face.
Over the years, I built up a fairly loyal -- even if small -- readership, some of whom I now have the pleasure of knowing in my real life as well. Thank you for your kindnesses all this while and for indulging me when my poetry was all I had left. When I started writing this post, I wanted to write something significant, something profound, poetic. And now as this final post is inching to its conclusion, I feel I have no profundity to pen, not even a funny limeric! :)
Anyway, I will continue to write at: http://hemantmohapatra.wordpress.com/
For all practical purposes, this is my last entry as ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) aimlesswanderer ; please update your bookmarks if you plan on following my work.
I'll let Shiv Mangal Singh 'Suman' take care of the rest:
जिस-जिस से पथ पर स्नेह मिला, उस-उस राही को धन्यवाद। जीवन अस्थिर अनजाने ही, हो जाता पथ पर मेल कहीं,
सीमित पग डग, लम्बी मंज़िल, तय कर लेना कुछ खेल नहीं।
दाएँ-बाएँ सुख-दुख चलते, सम्मुख चलता पथ का प्रसाद –
जिस-जिस से पथ पर स्नेह मिला, उस-उस राही को धन्यवाद। साँसों पर अवलम्बित काया, जब चलते-चलते चूर हुई,
दो स्नेह-शब्द मिल गये, मिली नव स्फूर्ति, थकावट दूर हुई।
पथ के पहचाने छूट गये, पर साथ-साथ चल रही याद –
जिस-जिस से पथ पर स्नेह मिला, उस-उस राही को धन्यवाद। जो साथ न मेरा दे पाये, उनसे कब सूनी हुई डगर?
मैं भी न चलूँ यदि तो क्या, राही मर लेकिन राह अमर।
इस पथ पर वे ही चलते हैं, जो चलने का पा गये स्वाद –
जिस-जिस से पथ पर स्नेह मिला, उस-उस राही को धन्यवाद। कैसे चल पाता यदि न मिला होता मुझको आकुल अंतर?
कैसे चल पाता यदि मिलते, चिर-तृप्ति अमरता-पूर्ण प्रहर!
आभारी हूँ मैं उन सबका, दे गये व्यथा का जो प्रसाद –
जिस-जिस से पथ पर स्नेह मिला, उस-उस राही को धन्यवाद। |
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[Mar. 31st, 2009|08:53 pm] |
What do you think
the cicadas dream
sleeping underground
seventeen years? |
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[Mar. 7th, 2009|09:05 am] |
Last night I dreamed that Mahmoud Darwish came to my house. He was sitting right here, right next to this makeshift bed I have slept on for years now. Although I do not understand a lot of the eastern european conflict, I told him I was sorry for all the mess. Mostly, I was sorry he was dead -- he would now never be able to see the end of a struggle he gave away his life to. Then he taught me how to say his name in Hebrew, how to spell it in Farsi. I told him I loved the dialogue he had had with this french woman at a coffee shop -- I had seen it on youtube. He laughed. We didn't talk much after that. In the dream, I turned around to look at my watch and when I turned back He was gone. It was 9am.
./w |
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| It is done. |
[Feb. 1st, 2009|11:26 am] |
It is done. It is like I never wrote a single poem in my entire life.
Which is just as well.
./w |
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| Cambodia Collage |
[Jan. 11th, 2009|01:58 am] |
( +detail )  |
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| Introducing NGOPost |
[Oct. 7th, 2008|08:25 pm] |
I've started working for NGOPost as a night-job. What is NGOPost, you may ask? Well, in short, quoting from the webpage: NGO Post is the people's platform for sharing and discussing various social welfare initiatives. You contribute to NGO Post by sharing new insightful stories, highlighting the best ones from all submissions, and sharing your ideas in follow-up discussions. And, NGO Post helps you in keeping up to date with the latest developments, finding quality information about topics of your interest and establish collaborations with other knowledgeable people around the globe.
( Read more... ) |
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| for Ravish |
[Jul. 11th, 2008|12:37 pm] |
5 years now. J, A and I climbed in the Adirondacks this May and talked about you. A is running the marathon this year; you would've liked to be there. Things are good, things have changed - without you, none of our treks are the same. I sometimes message you on YM!. No one has claimed your ID as yet :)
Rest in peace, my good friend. Rest in peace.
./w |
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| Car + Concert Video Post - II |
[Apr. 28th, 2008|08:26 pm] |
March was a good month. Month of music, photography and some travel. The concert videos finally came through a few weeks ago and I managed to edit+upload the second solo piece this past weekend. Not very happy about the poor audio quality here though -- the accompaniment sounds too bassy and some of the upper melody is lost in that deeper hum. Regardless, I was glad I didn't make any obvious errors during this piece (I was almost sure of making a handful of them).
The video is embedded in the post although it has been edited/blurred for obvious reasons; if you'd like to have the original, please email me and I'd be happy to send across the link.
( Part [I] of the video here.. )
March was also when I finally took the plunge into my first material extravagance and bought myself the car I had taken a fancy to since the first time I saw it. It has been a source of joy and long, long drives on endless highways all through this past month.
( More behind the cut.. )
./w |
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| It has now come to this |
[Feb. 11th, 2008|12:36 am] |
That I don't feel like writing, talking, meeting, or even go to work. I only want to play the piano and do nothing else.
./w |
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| दैनिकी |
[Jan. 27th, 2008|10:21 pm] |
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| Farewell, D |
[Jan. 13th, 2008|01:49 am] |
Well, just when you lead yourself to believe that your life couldn't get any more solitary, things are set in motion to prove you wrong. D will be leaving for India in another week. With him leaves pretty much 50% of my circle of friends I used to meet up with on weekends. I guess I am bummed about this - we had a good run driving to nearby cities for photography, developing the photographs, discussing the finer art of character portraits, traveling, getting drunk and just .. well, hanging out. It's odd that in the two years of my stay here, I have come to know only 3-4 people in this city out of which I meet 2 only once in a month or so. It's odder that I know almost nothing about D's life and he knows nothing about mine. The kicker was, during our early days of learning B/W film development, I kept forgetting the technical jargon - referring to the chemicals by their colour and smell, the squeegee as the 'drying sponge', the negative-holding-spiral as the 'metal frame thingie' and yes, believe it or not, once the camera as the 'photographing thingie' and D mentioned in jest - 'Man, you really suck with words'. I remember smiling sheepishly having realized how few is the number of people I know in my real life who are aware of the fact that I write - almost semi-professionally. Goodluck, D. You don't know it but you will be missed.
2008 is here. I plan to come out of hibernation this year, or atleast make an honest attempt to do so. Maybe go to a few of those parties I sometimes get invited to, or even respond to this backlog of emails that has piled up in the backyard. I have little to complain about 2007. It passed on peacefully. I got better at the Piano. I started the violin again and realized I wasn't ready for it yet. Traveled to Machu Pichu. Learned a bit of Spanish (beyond 'your place or mine' and 'No Ma'am, I don't have herpes' - two statements I haven't had a chance to use).Then there's this job I love and am getting to be really good at. Broke through the stock market, made 43% on the equity and then lost half it to the recession (yes, it is coming folks..). Got my first SLR film camera (and the only camera I've owned in the last 4 years) and finally got down to learning film development. Introduced myself to my first X-sport - Snowboarding - and loved it enough to break my wrist watch and almost break my wrist going downhill. And ofcourse, writing. Still struggling with poetry but I atleast kept going with prose. It hasn't been easy - last 3 years of an almost complete isolation from people is finally taking a toll. I feel neither love, loss, longing, or even a whimper of despair. Given the mechanics of my writing, I know why it has dried up and I have no one to blame for it.
2008 has started on a no-note. Which, I suppose, is a good-note. While writing this, I am playing Gnossiennes-3 in my head. There is a concert in a church in March where I will be giving a performance at my teacher's request. I've decided to play Chopin's Prelude in E minor and Satie's Gnossiennes-3 - which is why the current obsession with the piece. Like many other students who learn the Piano, I had no ambitions of playing for an audience ever, my main motivation being able to entertain myself. However, apprehensive that I am, I have currently persuaded myself to play in front of strangers. Let's see where this goes. What else? Travel wise, D and I will visit the Angkor Wat temples in December. Given that December is 12 months away, I have the rest of the year free for other travels. 2008 should also be the year I re-kick-start (for the 3rd time) attempts at publishing. I am worried that soon enough we'll have no oil, no plants and no sun and people would have real problems. Real enough not to care about poetry. I should try to push in my tripe before that ...
Oh oh.. this post has gone on and on. Wonder if I should post this or just edit out the details!
Well, what the hell..
./w |
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| Peru - in Black and White |
[Dec. 4th, 2007|09:01 pm] |
Film: Ilford FP4 Plus (B/W) - 125 ISO, Ilford HP5 Plus (B/W) - 400 ISO
Camera: Canon EOS Rebel 2000 Lens(es): Canon USM EF 28-105mm, EF 35-80mm Chemicals (for negative + print development): IlfotecDD-X developer, IlfoStop stopbath, Ilford Rapid Fixer |
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| Yo! |
[Sep. 16th, 2007|05:19 pm] |
Kim Addonizio replied back!
In my head, I am already married and having kids sex with her. We have a cottage in the Andes. You should visit.
Bring wine, all you buggers.
./w
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| Requiem |
[Jul. 13th, 2006|11:59 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  nostalgic | ] |
This day, 2003 July, Ravish Dewangan, a close friend and a dependable comrade on many a treks died in Amherst, Massachusetts. Gone swimming in a pond, he went into the danger zone and drowned. He made his peace with the world. His body was recovered a few hours later.
He did not die without a fight. If death has to come, I hope it comes the way it came to him - doing something he loved, in the open wild and, most importantly, in the headlines.
I have thought of you atop every mountain I have scaled in the last 3 years. See you on the other side.
./w |
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| Towards more Picturesque Speech |
[Jun. 29th, 2006|01:00 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home, Austin | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  awake | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Face Of Love (Extended) - Nusrat F. A. Khan, E. Veddar | ] |
I haven't spoken to anyone with photographs in over 2 years now. Too often, this place has all been about words, and nothing more. Well, like they say, every bad thing comes to an end and here I am without any more words, willing to sit on the sidelines while the photographs do the talking.
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| Waiting for Marianne |
[May. 22nd, 2006|10:10 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | AMD | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  geeky | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Nocturne in C Sharp Minor - Joshua Bell | ] |
I have lost a telephone
with your smell in it
I am living beside the radio
all the stations at once
but I pick out a Polish lullaby.
I pick it out of the static
it fades I wait I keep the beat
it comes back almost asleep
Did you take the telephone
knowing I'd sniff it immoderately?
maybe heat up the plastic
to get all the crumbs of your breath
and if you won't come back
how will you phone to say
you won't come back
so that I could at least argue?
Leonard Cohen - Flowers for Hitler
./w |
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| Gift |
[Apr. 24th, 2006|01:26 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Austin | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  hopeful | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Munh Ki Baat Sune Har Koi - Jagjit Singh | ] |
You tell me that silence
is nearer to peace than poems
but if for my gift
I brought you silence
(for I know silence)
you would say
This is not silence
this is another poem
and you would hand it back to me
- Leonard Cohen
./w |
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| Came Hell and High Water |
[Jan. 4th, 2005|12:15 pm] |
While your moist garden groans under
the weight of last nights snow
my earth is warm with bodies burnt,
buried this year past.
./w
ps: It has been a difficult new year party this time. Please donate whatever you can for the benefit of those who have lost not just their families, but entire histories gathered over hundreds of years.
http://www.america.cry.org/tsunami.asp |
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| November |
[Aug. 31st, 2003|10:01 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  thoughtful | ] |
Sitting across a wooden table with a gray tablecloth and white flowers, was she. The church giveaway sale was gathering momentum behind and so were the raging memories in between. Her fading peach coloured shirt and corduroy skirt, the blue eyes making me almost invisible to everyone else. Her voice small, reasonable, giving me only what my ears could barely pick. Tiny pebbles picked with discomfort from a cobbled road.
Her hands holding the china cup together with delicacy, tongue wiping the occasional whim of tea on her lips. Here, at this very turf, we kept ignoring. Ignoring the catcalls and horns from behind us, our memories, ignoring what the years had brought between us, my diploma and the bare yellow bulb that always lit her bookless room. Now she is asking me about my health and my daughters. And I was answering her like I answered a quiz.
Confused by our own charms, that cold November afternoon, we both sat there till the lamps lit the corners. The Chinese girl talking to her lover and at the nearby bar, the saxophone blares. You change sides and sit beside me and I wonder where I'll go once you are gone again. Between potato chips and a smoke, I dream of staying home with her forever - man with his wife and child, alone and hidden in the sheets. Ah, The awful ache!
The flesh warm and ready, but made distant by her politeness. I should have grabbed and pleaded her. Put my fingers into her or stolen a look or two at her bared breasts. Instead, I walked her to the bus stop where we kissed like siblings. While the cash register rang one last time and the bartender swept the bottles off the bar, we both reach toward our respective ruined lives.
./w |
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| Resurrection Of a Blog |
[Jun. 26th, 2002|10:35 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Cemetary Gates - Pantera | ] |
I see it. I see it coming out. The wrinkled shell shows signs of cracking. Nimble hands torture the white phlegm from inside; incontinent, gasping, eager to come out. First slow, silent. Stopping intermittently like a drop of water poised on an arched stem, and then deciding to take the leap, gathering momentum and clawing at the sky with gusto. Summer grows old and the sunless air watches in somnolence the antics of this giant, fighting it's first battle, refusing to lose. Then, the egg shrinks like an eyeball, and in an explosive moment, gives away. All night, sleepless rain dissolves the yolk and ersatz petals drip red. Quartz clear dawn comes, and with it, I see pink flesh crawling out of a cocoon. Fluted boned, bald, rueful, vexed.
If you see the star over Bethelhem tonight, close your doors from inside, put off the candles, and weep. You and the Devil are now breathing the same air.
./w |
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