Monday, June 27, 2005

Epiphany in the next afternoon, after canteen lunch

For the uninitiated, this is part 2 of "Epiphany at midnight" by Ratish

Now on the subject of classifications. "Wedge" as Pirsig would call it. Wedging poetry.

Word play is shallow. Yes. Ex. Most of what goes by the name of pop.
Too much of "I am truth-telling". stuck up. Ex. you get a lot of them in mags, romance songs by lady poets in tamil cinema, blogs ;-)
Major structure major substance...just clever. Like today's Vairamuthu
Bang on. Lots of the aping stuff end up without substance or form.

Ok at the end of the day its a infinity X infinity matrix. But for the benefits of our lazy minds which never graduated to managing double digit classifications, I would stop with adding just one more to both axes.

"Tempo". Well that sounds like the wicked looking van we all went ot school in. So, may be I'll call it "roll". Structure and substance qualify static aspects. Now it is not a picture is it? Its a poem. Someone's got to do the dynamics. So you get the roll-out that inadvertently stings, surprises, trips, wickedly twists, teases, and progressively rolls out imagery. The pace of it brings a taste of its own.

Perhaps, that explains why Floyd's utterly simple words, in a seemingly nursery rhyme, can speak weightily about darkening of the soul in the industrial town in early 20th century england and march right into your soul, to stay there forever.

"Vera, vera what has become of you.
Does anybody right in here feel the way I do."

"The time is gone, the song is over, thought I had something more to say"

Another of those is the american poet himself... in a free wheeling 90 odd minutes, seemingly no structure , no substance, but the roll makes out a dynamic thats irresistable.

Lately in 7 G. Every line in isolation would suck. The ideas cliched. The structure is trivial at best. But the ebb and flow, the alchemy is just mind blowing. "Kan pesum varthaigal.. "

The all time great - "Indha minminkku kannil oru minnal vandhadhu" - Vairamuthu/Raja in Sigappu rojakkal

Essentially, this style where the emphasis is not structured rhyme, nor great new truth, but an experience, the ride, the trip, which to me is the very essence of everything post-mordern. Where there is no cheap trickery, no on-your-face calling for attention, but noble experience- speak, tastefully done. Where the viewer has greater freedom for interpretation. And much of the richness of the art is derived from the viewer's taste. So throughly post-modern. No ranting, no preaching, no pretensions at intellectualism, no disrespect to your intelligence - come on roll, baby roll.

Check out Andy Warhol. Salvador Dali. Truly post-modern.

But interestingly most of Indian philosophy is told in popular forms in this style. No tight structure, no pretensions at greatness, simple poem, with a lot of idea self-referrals going on and back. The Gita for example. Especially sections on the lords greatness, using weaves like I am here, I am nowhere, untouchable, untouched and on. The contradictions I like to think were meant to fudge the judging mind. So there were no bullet points to learn from the GITA, but it by itself is an experience, which is interpreted by each and everyone in his own image at the time of his reading. Which is why so many people say that the GITA has something new to say every time they read it. Come to the Gita - come on roll, baby roll.




Ps : Those puritans of english literature, you might have all these ideas pinned down already. Spare the knowledge from engineering minds. Nice to discover a few things again by ourselves. However, half-cooked and not-ready-to-eat. Even if it is 200 years after the original discovery.

Friday, June 10, 2005

you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears

"Speak to us of Love."
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

- Gibran

Friday, May 13, 2005

Drift II - The profundity

Gibran's thought on the courageous march to eternity, pings this "drift" vision in me. Despite the seeming futility of the attempt.. seeking the essense of the comprehensive design of universal life remains sometimes a pastime, sometimes a life-possessing obsession beyond all cares... ever so often perceptions veer out of control, without blending neatly into the woven fabric of the universal design and the chase starts... to find the design that encompasses newer visions and perceptions... "drift" seems the current fashion....
"Drift" thats one great universal theme.. all claims of purpose-driven, chosen purpose soon divulge their rot... chaos reigned as an explanation for the universe phenomena... "order out of chaos" to be precise ..... direction in all movement is undeniable... wow thats an empirical statement... add "lets assume", "maybe", "what if" depending on your predisposition in "rigor of reasoning" .... "drift" is a worthy candidate for that explanation... drifts got that undisturbable languidity that is grandly championed in contemporary popular culture as "cool".... a subdued, undemonstrated heroism... a seeming sense of purpose for all of us in the sub-culture used to seeking conscious motives for all action..... "drift" quenches all thrist for unpredictability.... pace and direction .... amazingly it seems to embrace demands for high purpose and unpredictability together... ironical but true.... it is the singular antidote to the era of the lightning quick mind which in our era is humbled by its limitations in solving so many everyday problems .... limitations in its claims of accuracy and perfection.... discredited for bringing in bigger burdens... galaxies, tectonic plates, growing bodies, evolving mind all drifting .... "DRIFT" thats one great universal theme....

Thursday, May 12, 2005

One of those "all of life is about" volleys

Much stupidity in the world happens due to persistence I guess. You had this fancy vision of a frame or two drifting away. End of day ......no more need to persist..... intermittent static creaks on the brain surface.... bad habit takes over.... persistence....... weave the "drift vision" with mind sediments on "drift" .....toe.....theory of everything...... can't complain you seeking elegance in design..... there's the nights in college stools... drift.... people that drifted away... potency juices drifting away from the head ..... slimy fat drifting outward ..... no walk ...drift... simmer of youth drifting down surely, ever so slightly..... great big lawn calling in the sunset, picture of you dwindling .........dirty sign board leans on the second pole overhead besides you ....air brushed "drift" .... smoke drifts..... all of life's about "Drift" :-))