touching with fingers the naked body of the dreams

Thirsty Fish

2012-01-31T11:09:00.000+05:00

One night a baby fish was sleeping under some coral when God appeared to him in a dream. "I want you to go forth with a message to all the fish in the sea,"

God said. "What should I tell them?" the little fish asked. "Just tell them you’re thirsty," God replied. "And see what they do." Then without another word, He disappeared. The next morning the little fish woke up and remembered his dream. "What a strange thing God wants me to do," he thought to himself. But as soon as he saw a large tuna swimming by, the little fish piped up, "Excuse me, but I’m thirsty." "Then you must be a fool," then tuna said. And with a disdainful flick of his tail, he swam away. The little fish did feel rather foolish, but he had his orders. The next fish he saw was a grinning shark. Keeping a safe distance, the little fish called out, "Excuse me, sir, but I’m thirsty." "Then you must be crazy," the shark replied. Noticing a rather hungry look in the shark’s eye, the little fish swam away quickly.

All day he met cod and mackerels and swordfish and groupers, but every time he made his short speech, they turned their backs and would have nothing to do with him.

Feeling hopelessly confused, the little fish sought out the wisest creature in the sea, who happened to be an old blue whale with three harpoon scars on his side. "Excuse me, but I’m thirsty!" the little fish shouted, wondering if the old whale could even see him, he was such a tiny speck. But the wise one stopped in his tracks. "You’ve seen God, haven’t you?" he said. "How did you know?" "Because I was thirsty once, too." The old whale laughed. The little fish looked very surprised. "Please tell me what this message from God means," he implored. "It means that we are looking for Him in the wrong places," the old whale explained. "We look high and low for God, but somehow He’s not there. So we blame Him and tell ourselves that He must have forgotten us. Or else we decide that He left a long time ago, if He was ever around." "How strange," the little fish said, "to miss what is everywhere." "Very strange," the old whale agreed. "Doesn’t it remind you of fish who say they’re thirsty?"

By Michael Jackson.

The Acomodador

2012-01-29T01:03:00.003+05:00

The acomodador: there is always an event in our lives that is responsible for us failing to progress.

It described exactly what happens in marriages in general and what had happened in my relationship with Esther in particular.

I could now write my article for that magazine. I went over to the computer and within half an hour I had written a first draft and was happy with the result. I wrote a story in the form of a dialogue, as if it were fiction, but which was, in fact, a conversation I had had in a hotel room in Amsterdam, after a day spent promoting my books and after the usual publishers’ supper and the statutory tour of the sights, etc.

In my article, the names of the characters and the situation in which they find themselves are omitted. In real life, Esther is in her nightdress and is looking out at the canal outside our window. She has not yet become a war correspondent, her eyes are still bright with joy, she loves her work, travels with me whenever she can, and life is still one big adventure. I am lying on the bed in silence; my mind is far away, worrying about the next day’s appointments.

"Last week, I interviewed a man who’s an expert in police interrogations. He told me that they get most of their information by using a technique they call ‘cold-hot.’ They always start with a very aggressive policeman who says he has no intention of sticking to the rules, who shouts and thumps the table. When he has scared the prisoner nearly witless, the ‘good cop’ comes in and tells his colleague to stop, offers the prisoner a cigarette, pretends to be his friend, and gets the information he wants.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that.”

“Then he told me about something else that really frightened me. In 1971, a group of

researchers at Stanford University, in California, decided to create a simulated prison in order to study the psychology of interrogations. They selected twenty-four student volunteers and divided them into ‘guards’ and ‘criminals.’

“After just one week, they had to stop the experiment. The ‘guards’—girls and boys with normal decent values, from nice families—had become real monsters. The use of torture had become routine and the sexual abuse of ‘prisoners’ was seen as normal. The students who took part in the project, both ‘guards’ and ‘criminals,’ suffered major trauma and needed long-term medical help, and the experiment was never repeated.”

“Interesting.”

“What do you mean ‘interesting’? I’m talking about something of real importance: man’s capacity to do evil whenever he’s given the chance. I’m talking about my work, about the things I’ve learned!”

“That’s what I found interesting. Why are you getting so angry?”

“Angry? How could I possibly get angry with someone who isn’t paying the slightest bit

of attention to what I’m saying? How can I possibly be angry with someone who isn’t

even provoking me, who’s just lying there, staring into space?”

“How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“You don’t even know the answer to that, do you? I’ve been by your side all evening, and you’ve no idea whether I’ve had anything to drink or not! You only spoke to me when you wanted me to confirm something you had said or when you needed me to tell some flattering story about you!”

“Look, I’ve been working all day and I’m exhausted. Why don’t you come to bed and sleep? We can talk in the morning.”

“Because I’ve been doing this for weeks and months, for the last two years in fact! I try to have a conversation, but you’re always tired, so we say, all right, we’ll go to sleep and talk tomorrow. But tomorrow there are always other things to do, another day of work and publishers’ suppers, so we say, all right, we’ll go to sleep and talk tomorrow. That’s how I’m spending my life, waiting for the day when I can have you by my side again, until I’ve had my fill; that’s all I ask, to create a world where I can always find refuge if I need it: not so far away that I can’t be seen to be having an independent life, and not so close that it looks as if I’m invading your universe.”

“What do you want me to do? Stop working? Give up everything we’ve struggled so hard to achieve and go off on a cruise to the Caribbean? Don’t you understand that I enjoy what I’m doing and haven’t the slightest intention of changing my life?”

“In your books, you talk about the importance of love, the need for adventure, the joy of fighting for your dreams. And who do I have before me now? Someone who doesn’t read what he writes. Someone who confuses love with convenience, adventure with taking unnecessary risks, joy with obligation. Where is the man I married, who used to listen to what I was saying?”

“Where is the woman I married?”

“You mean the one who always gave you support, encouragement, and affection? Her body is here, looking out at the Singel Canal in Amsterdam, and she will, I believe, stay with you for the rest of her life. But that woman’s soul is standing at the door ready to leave.”

“But why?”

“Because of those three wretched words: We’ll talk tomorrow. Isn’t that enough? If not, just consider that the woman you married was excited about life, full of ideas and joy and desires, and is now rapidly turning into a housewife.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Of course it is! It’s nonsense! A trifle, especially considering that we have everything we could possibly want. We’re very fortunate, we have money, we never discuss any little flings we might have, we never have jealous rages. Besides, there are millions of children in the world starving to death, there are wars, diseases, hurricanes, tragedies happening every second. So what can I possibly have to complain about?”

“Do you think we should have a baby?”

“That’s how all the couples I know resolve their problems—by having a baby! You’re the one who has always prized your freedom and put off having children for later on. Have you really changed your mind?”

“I think the time is right.”

“Well, in my opinion, you couldn’t be more wrong! I don’t want your child. I want a child by the man I knew, who had dreams, who was always by my side! If I ever do become pregnant it will be by someone who understands me, keeps me company, listens to me, who truly desires me!”

“You have been drinking. Look, I promise, we’ll talk tomorrow, but, please, come to bed now, I’m tired.”

“All right, we’ll talk tomorrow. And if my soul, which is standing at the door, does decide to leave, I doubt it will affect our lives very much.”

“Your soul won’t leave.”

“You used to know my soul very well, but you haven’t spoken to it for years, you don’t know how much it has changed, how desperately it’s begging you to listen. Even to banal topics of conversation, like experiments at American universities.”

“If your soul has changed so much, how come you’re the same?”

“Out of cowardice. Because I genuinely think that tomorrow we will talk. Because of everything we’ve built together and which I don’t want to see destroyed. Or for that worst of all possible reasons, because I’ve simply given up.”

“That’s just what you’ve been accusing me of doing.”

“You’re right. I looked at you, thinking it was you I was looking at, but the truth is I was looking at myself. Tonight I’m going to pray with all my might and all my faith and ask God not to let me spend the rest of my days like this.”

From Paulo Coelho's book The Zahir.

It might be useful to know that if "I dont know," is the answer to every question you ask; "I know it," is the reply to every fact you tell; and "You know nothing," is the response at every comment you make ... you must know that you have encountered the acomodador!

Relationship: Thine & Mine

2012-01-24T01:30:00.002+05:00

“Marie, let’s suppose that two firemen go into a forest to put out a small fire. Afterward, when they emerge and go over to a stream, the face of one is all smeared with black, while the other man’s face is completely clean. My question is this: Which of the two will wash his face?”

“That’s a silly question. The one with the dirty face, of course.”

“No, the one with the dirty face will look at the other man and assume that he looks like him. And, vice versa, the man with the clean face will see his colleague covered in grime and say to himself: I must be dirty too. I’d better have a wash.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that, during the time I spent in the hospital, I came to realize that I was always looking for myself in the women I loved. I looked at their lovely, clean faces and saw myself reflected in them. They, on the other hand, looked at me and saw the dirt on my face and, however intelligent or self-confident they were, they ended up seeing themselves reflected in me and thinking that they were worse than they were. Please, don’t let that happen to you.”

I would like to have added: that’s what happened to Esther, and I’ve only just realized it, remembering now how the look in her eyes changed. I’d always absorbed her life and her energy, and that made me feel happy and confident, able to go forward. She, on the other hand, had looked at me and felt ugly, diminished, because, as the years passed, my career—the career that she had done so much to make a reality—had relegated our relationship to second place.

If I was to see her again, my face needed to be as clean as hers. Before I could find her, I must first find myself.

From The Zahir- Paulo Coelho

Feed Your Wolf Well

2012-01-22T00:30:00.000+05:00

One evening an old Apache told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.

"One is Evil - It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

"The other is The Spirit - It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Apache simply replied, "The one you feed..."

- Anon

Lo Jaam ultaey Detay Hain

2012-01-21T00:15:00.002+05:00

Don't Go Back To Sleep

2012-01-17T22:51:00.001+05:00

One night a man was crying,

Allah! Allah!

His lips grew sweet with the praising,

until a cynic said,

"So! I have heard you

calling out, but have you ever

gotten any response?"

The man had no answer to that.

He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,

in a thick, green foliage.

"Why did you stop praising?"

"Because I’ve never heard anything back."

"This longing you express is the return message."

Rumi

Aj Ki Raat

2012-01-15T23:35:00.000+05:00

Enjoy Your Coffee

2012-01-08T00:21:00.001+05:00

A group of highly placed alumni visited their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work & life.

Offering them coffee, the professor returned from kitchen with a pot of coffee & an assortment of cups - porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain-looking, some expensive, some exquisite.

He asked them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said, "If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain ones.

While it is but normal for you to want only the best, that is also the source of your stress. What you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you still went for the best cups & were eyeing each other's cup.

If life is coffee, then jobs, money & status in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold & contain life.

Don't let the cups drive you,

Enjoy the coffee!" :)

-Anon

Hey, and dont forget to listen to this ;)

Surreal

2012-01-07T01:00:00.000+05:00

As the first of drizzle shimmered on the black coat & the wafts of steamy coffee made my glasses go foggy; it reminded of the realness of this surreality. I fell in love.

The first rain drops kept their naughty trailing path over my face, as my eyes followed the ripples in the little puddles on that marble floor.

The heart beat with the sound of those falling drops.

The mind wandered.

Somewhere between the idle talk, and somewhere there in a room, inside that building. It was such a to-and-fro trip: an idle talk, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in early January of 2012 ... and inside that room, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in late March of 2010.

'Things end.' I reminded myself. 'Like this cup of coffee. Or like the sound of this throaty laugh'.

I inhaled the scent of winter again.

First rain.

The wet earth.

The lavish heavens.

The damp cold.

That warmth of the styrofoam cup in my hands.

I let my painted nails peel a little of that white cup.

It was all real.

The present.

Just that it was so magical, it was making me go back into a time tunnel that does not exist.

I felt the moisture of those flirty rain drops on my face. And recalled the tears of that other afternoon. Inside that room, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in late March of 2010.

This is real. I remind myself. This moment. This smile. This breath that turns to fog as I exhale.

Standing on those marble steps, I looked back into the welcome gallery of that building.

This is the present. And in the afternoon of a day somewhere in early January of 2012 I stood outside of this building with my back towards the welcome gallery of the REDC.

Re-Evaluation Of Evaluation

2011-12-29T00:31:00.000+05:00

A little while back on a social media platform, I shared a statement that had a minor syntax error with more to do with my carelessness than any lack of comprehension. The statement, otherwise, was meaty in its content and many people shared it verbatim with my name in credits. By chance I went over it again and realized the mistake in the statement; discovering how many people had shared it as it was, caused a bit of discomfort for me. I was not comfortable being associated with a flaw, that was not a characteristic otherwise.

Ever since, if I intend to quote someone verbatim (retweet- as some may prefer to term it), and there seems to have crept in some similar carelessness, I usually point it out to the person... lest the added readers, who might not already be aware of the person's stature, should not think any less of him/her.

I think of it as an expression of utmost respect for the person's credentials, rather than an assertion of any expertise of mine... for I know where I stand. At the first rung of the ladder.

It might only be a cause that I dont get paid to evaluate, evaluation doesn't come very naturally to me, and doesn't go very easy with me either.

In other news, it was a pretty mediocre day by any standards, made more so, thanks to the learned evaluation.

Sigh.... Man! Am I not a grumbling machine :)

After All This Time…

2011-12-26T02:05:00.001+05:00

We saw Beauty & The Beast today :)

"After all this time…he has finally learned to love."

Musta'gharq Darya'ay Ishq

2011-12-18T00:34:00.000+05:00

عشق که بازار بتان جای اوست
سلسله بر سلسله سودای اوست
گرمی بازار خراب است
آتش دل های کباب است عشق
گفت به مجنون صنمی در دمشق
کا ی شده مستغرق دریای عشق,
عشق چه و مرتبه عشق چیست؟
عا شق و معشوق در این پرده کیست؟
عاشق یک رنگ و حقیقت شناس
گفت که: ای محو امید و هراس
نیست به جز عشق در این پرده,کس
اول و آخر همه عشق است و بس

جامی

They're Overdue

2011-12-13T11:15:00.000+05:00

Lyrics | Muse lyrics - I Belong To You (Mon Coeur S'ouvre À Ta Voix) lyrics

A God Of Loss

2011-11-27T15:48:00.000+05:00

Keeping mirror houses within your bosom, do you really hope to fall in love?

All around the image of thy own self, how could you look beyond to fall in love?

Is it not so that you love your own reflection, be it in the mirror, or some one else's eyes? Let yourself not allude to the notion of falling in love with those eyes, then. Its just the reflection, my dear, that you adore.

In the Parthenon of your heart, Athena is the carving of your own charming self.

And deities don't fall in love, you know.

All they expect, are devotees.

And they bear with them the authority to grant. Heaven or hell.

Approval or rejection.

You know,

You can approve or reject... but you can not love, my love.

And what loss is this!

To be a god, and to not know the euphoria of falling in love.

For gods don't fall.

They stand still. Expect. Demand. And judge.

They just don't fall.

You may have the entire Parthenon to yourself, but aren't you a god of loss, my love?

Kalam e Iqbal

2011-11-16T23:06:00.001+05:00

This is Iqbal for you! Kalam-e Iqbal - (AUDIOS)

One Day.

2011-11-15T00:50:00.000+05:00

And beauty they say, comes in many forms. Two of which are in this post...

Nobody, Not Even The Rain, Has Such Small Hands

2011-11-14T19:35:00.000+05:00

Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which I cannot touch because they are too near

Your slightest look easily will unclose me

though I have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

E.E.Cummings

We Shall.

2011-11-12T22:58:00.003+05:00

Thou knowest all - I cannot see.

I trust I shall not live in vain,

I know that we shall meet again

In some divine eternity.

Oscar Wilde

When the brown branches shall bear the red flowers,
Then, my Love,
We shall meet

Then, we shall meet

When the koonj (cranes) shall return from their journey,
Filling the world with their joyous cackles,
Then, my Love,
We shall meet.

Then, we shall meet

When this forlorn cheek of mine has soaked
all tears trailing from my eyes,
Then, my Love,
We shall meet.

Then, we shall meet

This gulf of separation is a folly of the fool
Hence,
We shall meet.

Then, we shall meet

Artist: Allan Faqir

Poet: Unknown

Inapt Translation: mine

Biya Biya...

2011-11-09T23:50:00.000+05:00

Biya, biya, ke nayabi chu ma digar yare,

Chu ma ba jumlajahan khud kujast dildare?

Biya, biya, wa bar har sue ruzgar mabar,

Ke nest naqd-i-tura pesh-i-ghair bazare.

Rumi

Translation:

Come, come for you will not find another friend like Me,
Where indeed is a Beloved like Me in all the world ?
Come, come, and do not spend your life in wandering to and fro,
Since there is no market elsewhere for your money.

Prof. Nicholson

Let Not the Moment Pass Unattended!

2011-11-09T00:00:00.002+05:00

Hasti ke zohur mikonad dar hame shai’

Khaahi ke bari be haale vai baa hame pai

Rav bar sare mai habaab raa bin ke chesaan

Mai vai bovad andar mai o vai dar mai mai

(Jami)

Translation:

Being manifests Itself in everything.
If you want to discover Its state in everything,
Go and see how the bubbles are on top of the wine:
The wine is they in them and they are wine in the wine!

Eureka

2011-11-05T15:44:00.000+05:00

Today, a little while back I cam across this:

“Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

And was suddenly reminded of the following passage I wrote quite a couple of years back. Thought of sharing it here...

Woh tanha hay. Ye woh hamaisha say jan'ti thi. Magar woh tanha rehna chahta hay, ye woh nahi jan'ti thi. Isko lagta tha uskay ander ka genius, misunderstood honay kay khauf kay ba'is usay tanha rehnay par majboor karta hay.

Bhala aisay kaisay ho sakta hay kay koi jeeta jaagta insaan, apnay jaisay baqi insaano say, unki qurbat say duur bhaagay?

Laikin woh zindagi kay bohat say pehlo nahi jan'ti thi, aur ye bhi shayad unhi main say tha.

Apni chotti si qainaat main us ne loagon ki aik prototype bana rakhi thi jis main essentially har koi acha hi tha, baqi loagon say lagao rakhnay wala. Haan oonch neech to har jagah hi hoti hay, chuna'chay woh apni iss qainaat main bhi oonch neech honay par waqti taur par pareshaan honay kay baad phir say apnay prototype par eimaan lay aati thi.

She just couldn't be any other way. Magar jaisay mein ne pehlay bataya, zindagi kay baray main bohat kuch aisa tha jo woh nahi jan'ti thi.

Woh tanha tha. Magar iss liay nahi kay woh tanhaii pasand tha. Iss liay bhi nahi kay uska dil zindagi say, zindagi ki bheeR bhaaR say uchaat tha. Magar iss liay kion kay woh tanha rehna chahta tha. Uskay ander ka genius ussay tanha rehnay par majboor karta tha. Nahi, iss liay nahi kay woh misunderstood honay say kha'if tha. Balkay iss liay kay woh apna ye bharam qaa'im rakhna chahta tha kay baqi dunya, loag, uski genius ki gird bhi nahi pa saktay. Woh issay kabhi samajh nahi saktay. Usko ye dar nahi tha kay loag usay different samajh kar reject na kar dain. Uska khauf to bilkul alag tha; Ye kay loag kaheen usay apnay jaisa, apni hi tarah ka na samajh lain. Unhi ki tarah ka, aam sa! Uski infradiyat main hi to uski genius posheeda thi. Woh aam loagon ki tarah kaisay ho sakta tha?

Jab woh ye kehta, 'main isi liay kisi ko nahi batata, kisi say share nahi karta. Kisi ko samajh nahi aati', tou woh dard say choor ho jati. Uska akela-pun saanp bun kar isko dasnay lagta. Aur phir isko apni hi kisi baa-hosh lamhay main ki gai baat bhool jati kay 'uskay ander tou aik Namrood busta hay, apnay buland aahung dawa-e khudaii kay saath'. Apnay dukhtay dil kay saath uskay akelay-pun ko sehlaatay usay kabhi khayal bhi nahi aya kay woh kaheen iss liay bhi tou dunya say share karnay say nahi katraata kay kaheen wo dunya ko samajh na aa jaey? Kaheen uska enigma solve na ho jaey? Kaheen woh bhi one of the mob na ho jaey? Magar isko ye khayal aata bhi kaisay? Bataya hay na woh zindagi ko nahi jan'ti thi!

To be Continued...

Image Courtesy: Gabriella Mirollo

The Two-Way Road

2011-11-05T00:03:00.002+05:00

No lover ever seeks union with his beloved,

But his beloved is also seeking union with him.

But the lover's love makes his body lean,

While the Beloved's love makes her fair and lusty.

When in this heart the lightning spark of love arises,

Be sure this Love is reciprocated in that heart.

When the Love of God arises in thy heart,

Without doubt God also feels love for thee.

Rumi

Drunken Dabbling

2011-11-04T00:46:00.002+05:00

Ishq ka Ain = Aboodiat ka Ain

Jinka maa'bood aaeenay main basta hai, unkay banday kabhi moatbar nahi ho paatay.

Ye kia kay ik sayaal main burd hon apnay sab asraar?
Ho tasawurr-e yaar aur khat-e sabu pe kaun o makaan doal jaaen

But why am I saying all this?
Jo jantay hain, wo jantay hain...

Aur jo nahi jaantay... well,
Tum na jaan pao gay!

PS: Btw, I dont restore to any drunkenness which is as cheap as being purchasable ... lest the post title should confuse you!

Aisa Ho?

2011-11-03T23:35:00.001+05:00

Dil ishq main bey-payaan, sauda ho tou aisa ho,

Darya ho tou aisa ho, sehraa ho tou aisa ho

Ham sey nahin rishta bhi, Ham se nahin miltaa bhi,

Hai paas vo betha bhi, dhoka ho tou aisa ho

Woh bhi raha begana, ham nay bhi na pehchana,

Haan ay dil-e deewana, apna ho tou aisa ho!

Ham ne yahi maanga tha, Uss ne yahi bakhsha hai,

Banda ho tou aisa ho, daata ho tou aisa ho

Iss daur main kya kya hai, rusvaai bhi lazzat bhi,

Kaanta ho tou aisa ho, chubhta ho tou aisa ho

Ay Qais-e-janoon paisha Insha ko kabhi dekha?

Vahshi ho tu aisa , rusvaa ho tu aisa ho!

Dil ishq main bey-payaan, sauda ho tou aisa ho,

Darya ho tou aisa ho, sehraa ho tou aisa ho

2011-11-02T21:49:00.002+05:00

May Allah pay you back in equal coins!

And trust me, you wouldn't be able to take the next breath if you had even an inkling of how severe it would be!

Thus Spake Zarathustra

2011-10-30T16:04:00.001+05:00

Been a while into reading Nietzsche's THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, and what a roller coaster ride it has been :)

The extremity of the views is, at the same time, endearing as well as repelling. I mean, he gives one a stout chance to be offended... :)

But then all of us are entitled to our own opinions, aren't we?

While he provides so much that I could relate to as a person, there is no dearth of substance that make me feel sorry for the visible lack of sound, healthy, emotional influences on his views about women in particular.

But then magnificence has its price, more often than not a quintessential tragedy...

Following are a few excerpts:

"THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA" by Friedrich Nietzsche

Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in woman.

On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knoweth only love.

In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love. And even in woman's conscious love, there is still always surprise and lightning and night, along with the light.

As yet woman is not capable of friendship: women are still cats and birds.

Or at the best, cows.

As yet woman is not capable of friendship.

But tell me, ye men,who of you is capable of friendship?

Oh! your poverty, ye men, and your sordidness of soul! As much as ye give to your friend, will I give even to my foe, and will not have become poorer thereby.

There is comradeship: may there be friendship!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WHY stealest thou along so furtively in the twilight, Zarathustra?

And what hidest thou so carefully under thy mantle?

Is it a treasure that hath been given thee? Or a child that hath been born thee? Or goest thou thyself on a thief's errand, thou friend of the evil?- Verily, my brother, said Zarathustra, it is a treasure that hath been given me: it is a little truth which I carry.

But it is naughty, like a young child; and if I hold not its mouth, it screameth too loudly.

As I went on my way alone today, at the hour when the sun declineth, there met me an old woman, and she spake thus unto my soul:

"Much hath Zarathustra spoken also to us women, but never spake he unto us concerning woman."

And I answered her: "Concerning woman, one should only talk unto men."

"Talk also unto me of woman," said she; "I am old enough to forget it presently."

And I obliged the old woman and spake thus unto her:

Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one solution- it is called pregnancy.

Man is for woman a means: the purpose is always the child. But what is woman for man?

Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion.

Therefore wanteth he woman, as the most dangerous plaything.

Man shall be trained for war, and woman for the recreation of the warrior: all else is folly.

Too sweet fruits- these the warrior liketh not. Therefore liketh he woman;- bitter is even the sweetest woman.

Better than man doth woman understand children, but man is more childish than woman.

In the true man there is a child hidden: it wanteth to play. Up then, ye women, and discover the child in man!

A plaything let woman be, pure and fine like the precious stone, illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come.

Let the beam of a star shine in your love! Let your hope say: "May I bear the Superman!"

In your love let there be valour! With your love shall ye assail him who inspireth you with fear!

In your love be your honour! Little doth woman understand otherwise about honour. But let this be your honour: always to love more than ye are loved, and never be the second.

Let man fear woman when she loveth: then maketh she every sacrifice, and everything else she regardeth as worthless.

Let man fear woman when she hateth: for man in his innermost soul is merely evil; woman, however, is mean.

Whom hateth woman most?- Thus spake the iron to the loadstone: "I hate thee most, because thou attractest, but art too weak to draw unto thee."

The happiness of man is, "I will." The happiness of woman is, "He will."

"Lo! "Lo! now hath the world become perfect!"- thus thinketh every woman when she obeyeth with all her love.

Obey, must the woman, and find a depth for her surface. Surface is woman's soul, a mobile, stormy film on shallow water.

Man's soul, however, is deep, its current gusheth in subterranean caverns: woman surmiseth its force, but comprehendeth it not.- Then answered me the old woman: "Many fine things hath Zarathustra

said, especially for those who are young enough for them.

Strange! Zarathustra knoweth little about woman, and yet he is right about them! Doth this happen, because with women nothing is impossible?

And now accept a little truth by way of thanks! I am old enough for it!

Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too loudly, the little truth."

"Give me, woman, thy little truth!" said I. And thus spake the old woman:

"Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip!"-

Thus spake Zarathustra.

THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA

by Friedrich Nietzsche

translated by Thomas Common

On A Random October Night

2011-10-29T00:08:00.002+05:00

Some things in life needed a bit of pruning...

... This blog for example :)
(And hey, do let me know if scrolling down you could find out the changes in the blog! :)

So was digging through the old entries, the incomplete drafts, half written thoughts, half thought muses... in a nutshell the half baked stuff !

Its always a good idea to take care of the half baked stuff...

Came across the following words that apparently I had jot down somewhere in August 2009- not completed for want of any form or structure. Despite trying I couldn't recall the source that triggered this pain, hence dropping the idea of putting on some finishing touches, decided to bring them forth as-it-is...

Pataal ki gehraee jaisa sanaata

Rooh kay ehsaas ko nigal janay wali khamoshi

Takhayul ki khaitee jaisay khayal ki boond boond ko tarasti ho

Aur jazbaat yun habszada hoon jaisay jaith ka mausam

Tarasta hai mun

Kisi narm baat ko

Kisi gulrung ehsaas ko

Dil ko jo choo jaey

Khayal ki uss aanch ko

Raat hai sooni, mun hai soona

Soona soona jag ye sara

Kia karoon bin pii kay mein

Na saans hai apni, na aankh mein taara

In Kay Darmiyaan Kia Hai?

2011-10-28T01:56:00.002+05:00

Shehar ke dukandaro! Karobaar-e-ulfat mein sood kya ziaan kya hai, tum na jaan pao gay

Dil ke daam kitne hain, khuwab kitne mehnge hain, aur naqd-e-jaan kya hai, tum na jaan pao gay