Rising from the graveyard of dreams

What happened to all those dreamers who went to college with me? Most of them are in my FB circle, so I do know what they are doing, but what happened of their dreams?

I am really grateful to some of these people, as they stood by me during that dangerous phase of my life.

I don't know if I ever really believed in my dream, I used to daydream about being a writer in my childhood, but enough reality had dawned on me by the time I was in college. But I did hang out with some people who really believed in their dreams. What happens to people when they lose their dreams?

The army-brat who grew up dreaming of fighter planes and their technical designs, now wears a suit to work. He is OK, at least I think he is. But this is not about him, or his wife.

The political-visionaries, all of them, work in IT now. Do they still give fiery speeches once in a while?

The philosopher-poet is a senior manager in a multinational corporation. Does he still write symbolic poetry about mannequins?

The technology-evangelists , they got their dream jobs. Are they all happy living their dream?

The fiery tomboy, who spoke highly of her revolutionist father, got married into 'the most religious family' in Kerala. She now says 'Om Nama Sivaya' while answering phone calls.

The rebel, who boycotted exams, who wanted to do a lot of things in life other than engineering, went on to be a successful architect.

The one with all the answers, who vowed not to take a career in anything short of civil service, had to give up her dream and take up a bank job.

I talked to the last one in the list this weekend. She is one of my very best friends, (though she doesn't know of the existence of this blog, she is just too busy anyway!)  and we have seen each other through ups and down, through job-pressures and joblessness, through dreams and disillusionment. I have known her in her 'IAS, IES' hopeful days, her 'I hate marriage' phase and she has known me in my 'I'm in love' phase, 'I sold my soul to a soulless job' phase.

We have both turned spiritual over the years, she cannot complete a sentence with out quoting Osho and Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. And I tell her that I learned the same thing by observing life, and of course by digging up 60's film gossip. She is still fierce, still wants to fight for the world, still believes in revolutions.


Life changes and sometimes we have to change ourselves with it, but certain things should always remain the same. These are the things which constitute a person's integrity. We might not always achieve our dreams, but we still have to stay true, to ourselves and to others.

So this is to all dreams , lost and conquered, and to all vows of eternal friendships, lost and standing.

Translation of some Bengali songs

I want to write, but this splitting headache is taking the life out of me. I am sharing someone else' words.

Translation of some Bengali songs, sent by a good friend who wishes to stay unknown.

1

"I haven't told her to go away.
She has made her own mind, instead.
For, she likes to sail on to hitherto unknown climes.

The familiar clot of cloud hovering above

Do not know the secret name that the unknown waters

now murmur in her ear in loving whispers.

No, I haven't told her to return from my door.

She has left me, 

In pursuit of new rainbows.

Even the arid eyes glisten with tears during monsoon

When rivers swell with rain,
For no apparent reason or rhyme.

September, she flies with the autumn wind.

It seems she is mine, and she doesn't belong to me,
All at the same time.

I haven't told her to stray.
She has made her own mind,
Herself."

2

"You're destined to leave me.

Nothing will remain, nothing.

I wonder, 

If only the pain of your absence

Will last through the years.

You, the curious traveller,

Came to my garden of flowers, unknowingly. 

I'll hide the flowers you trampled upon.

The day will be over soon.

I'll muse over my heart

And, treasure the pain of your absence.

When the farewell flute will splash longing

On the canvas of the evening sky,

I'll baptise the beauty of my sorrow

With tears."

3

"This planet beneath the blue vault of sky

 And, the blue sky sprawled over this Earth

        Have you seen it?

The sky, the limitless, the blue horizon,

Darkness covers its face during night-time

And, Lulls the eyelids to the heaviness of sleep

       Have you seen it? 

Have you ever perceived the silence of pitch-black nights?

Or, the opera of shrieks roaming through the air,

      Have you heard it?

O darkness, the intimate cover of moon-drenched nights,

The tender healer of the cacophony of this city.

The night-guard is wide awake in his pursuit of you

     Have you seen it?

Have you ever felt an intense longing for solitude?

The tears of lost souls in the entrails of this city

Get dissolved into a pearly drop of dew, here,

     Have you seen it? 

The sky, our trace to the infinite, is a canopy

For millions spending their nights under it

With millions of heartbreaks and piercing agony.

They have their little hopes, unbeknownst to us,

  Have you heard them?

Have you heard them cry, out of despair, 

Adding to the soundscape of this city,

 Have you heard it?"

4
"Like a fierce torrent of monsoon rain
Your melody drips upon my face, love!
It pours down with the first ray of sun
And the darkest hue of long lonely nights.
May this song pour down on grief and on glee
Like a fierce torrent of monsoon rain.
The branch that knew not the pain of flowers
May your song awake it to blossom.
Everything that is worn-out inside me
May your song breathe life into their soul.
May it drip upon my thirst for thee, love
Like a fierce torrent of monsoon rain."

5
"

I do not long to be immortal

Have no other wishes, too,

The only wish of my light-years

Is merely wanting you;

Moments fly by like previous births

I close my eyes, the blind re-incarnate,

Alphabets fade away, like,

The memories from the past!

On a Cobra's outstretched hood

Dances the myth of Lokhindor

The Bengal in our blood would never allow

For Behula to be a widow, if it could;

The raft floats by, day and night,

With the same corpse in it,

We've died before, will again,

In this timeless love's quest!

I have been born, a myriad times,

Have died before on your lap,

Just to see you once more, I have

Embraced this re-incarnation's trap!

Time and again, we have returned

To this planet, the calling's strong,

Sometime Gangur, or Kopai,

Even in the old Kapotakhkho's song!

Gangur turns to Cauvery, after a while,

And, often the Mississippi, too,

Rhine and Congo, as rivers harmonise

To the worldly symphony, all life through!

I've never, never written down music,

Nor will I ever do it, no,

I want you, love, to be sung by people,

As you come and as you go.

When I fell in love with you

A thousand births ago

Tathagata painted his loneliness

On the canvas of the evening glow!

He had you as a beggar-woman,

Looking for alms;

I, too, have become a beggar, lady,

To be able to touch your outstretched palms.

I'm on my knees, love,

And, will remain so till the end of time.

Come bewitch with eyes, with palms,

Outstretched in dreams; come please,

Place your lips on my parched lips;

Let's build a barricade new,

I swear by revolt and love,

That I have only wanted you.

Enchanted by your dreams,

I had taken births, on a never-ending spree,

I was your scream, your panting,

Revolution, your fury.

Whenever pain had touched you,

Know that, it was by my hand,

I am your man, your grasping roots,

I am your motherland.

Whenever you had borne a child,

I fathered it, was its sire,

I even lost the count of our children

Who have lit our own funeral pyre.

We come back, we come again,

Even if false or true,

I will come back, and profess unashamedly,

That I am complete in wanting you."

A Song

I was only nine when the movie, Dhwani, released in 1988. I still remember posters, I still remember the raves about its songs, I also remember the disappointment when I finally got to see the movie. Actually I have never watched Dhwani as a grown up, but it was definitely a disappointment for a nine or ten year old. But it had the songs, 'the songs', and people went on humming those tunes for many years.

One of it's songs had made me cry, though I had no idea why. Every time I heard that song , tears would come uninvited, and my child-brain would feel the agony of some very grown-up emotions. Every single time!

Years went by and I completely forgot about the song. I stumbled upon it yesterday almost by accident and now I cannot stop listening to it. I think I know why I cried for this song.

Here it is. Avoiding the original video as its ridiculous, just plain ridiculous. Lets just look at Dr K.J Yesudas' serene face instead.