MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR

And a wish for all the wonderful people in my
life that their lives are tinted with the beautiful
colours of the rising dawn of love and hope
Deepak

'TIS AN IDLE FANCY - A poem by Deepak Menon

I love HER? How can you say that?
I tell you it is not true!
You insist! Even when it isn't a fact?
Oh! How can I convince you?
.
I do not believe a word you say!
And even if I did, so what?
So what if throughout the day
My brow is feverish and hot?
.
So what if from my deepest slumber
I start and then to her call out?
So what if efforts to erase her memory
Have by time - been put to rout?
.
So what if I only think of her
And talk and dream and live her name?
So what if my eyes are often filmed
With tears of sorrow, lingering shame
.
That I could not my conscience still
And keep my tryst with destiny's call?
So what if her image my heart does fill
So what if she holds my heart in thrall?
.
'Tis nonsense, once more I tell you
You are mistaken though you know me well
Even though away with my soul she flew
'Tis an idle fancy, - can't you tell?

THE NEW MILLENNIUM.....a poem by Deepak Menon

The New Millennium dawned - clearing the haze
But had mankind decided to change its ways?
Many are the species of plant and animal life
Who thank man for freeing them from strife!
.
Freeing them forever, (since they exist no more)
For elevating them to being subjects of folklore
And they can never be troubled by hunger or pain
And now need no shelter from the sun or the rain!
.
Ah! Man! You truly are a praiseworthy breed
For you even annihilate all that you need!
And your plans for the next millennium indeed
Exceed anything even God could have decreed!
.
Star wars you have planned with lasers you made
The nuclear race you run on the edge of a blade
You harvest the sea now the land is stripped dry
And already now to reach other planets, you try!
.
The forests that burdened this old mother earth
Have been piously cleared to warm your hearth
With concrete jungles you have decorated her afresh
Levelled mountains rising like thorns from her flesh!
.
The air that gave support to the life forms so many
Who fed on mother earth without paying a penny,
By you has been fouled too, and its insidious design
Foiled by the car and factory smoke which is the sign!
.
That all the other remaining earthly life there still is
Had better be careful and beware of mankind's kiss!
If they want to live to see their offspring grow
They must never their faces to any man show!

Money and love thoughts by Deepak Menon

9. MONEY

------------
9.1 Money isn’t funny. It is a serious matter. To be without

it is like having one's neck in a guillotine. And, to have it, is
like having a sword of Damocles hanging over one's head.

Either way, there is no escape from it!

*
9.2 The only thing more precious than money is love.

But love will wither in daily drudgery without money.

It is not recommend­ed for a poor man to fall in

love.

*
9.3 Wilt thou part with thy true love for all the money

in the world? Nay, because there will be no joy in

the spending of even one dry penny!

Wilt thou part with the solitary penny thou hast, to buy

a trinket for thy true love and go hungry to bed? Yea,

because the joys of the world wilt be thine in

the spending!
=======================================

Mashima on 3rd December 2005 at Dehradun

That is a picture of my Aunt Promilla Ghose on her birthday
the most wonderfully 89 year young person actually still
blossoming at 16 and going on 17

 

An excerpt from the Childrens book "WORMUS" by Deepak Menon

The Wonderful Booga Dooga Land Forest

.

There were Golden trees and Green trees
And Silvery trees and Cream trees.
There were large trees and small trees,
Short trees and tall trees;

.
There were trees with fat trunks
And trees with thin trunks.
Trees that grew from the ground
And trees that could hop around

.
There were trees that walked
And some trees that talked
Some trees who could sing
Some with bells that could ring

.
There was even a tree
That no one could see
So as you can see my little one
The Booga Dooga forest is full of fun

.
It is a place that always seems
To be seen by us only in dreams
But be sure that maybe one day
You will see a Pixie along your way

.
And if his name is Pickwick,
don’t forget to ask
The way to the Booga Dooga Land
at last

.

With Love to all the children of this world

Deepak

A Wild Flower in my Garden - Amazing!! - And a poem!

I suddenly noticed this amazing creation of
Nature in my garden and it reminded me of
a poem I wrote long ago - Here it is -

MORNING LIGHT
by
Deepak Menon

Morning light of amber grey
Materializing from the void
Earth's diaphanous veils peeling away,
As draped in Night she invisible lays.
.
Each lifted veil revealing shades
Of silvery grey slowly emerging,
As the starry gown of night fades
Before the imperceptibly surging
.
Tide of morning light that aspires
To clasp lady Earth in its embrace,
In a frenzy of controlled desire,
A blush rising on its face
.
As the fading gown reveals,
In glorious nakedness the charms
That Night covetously conceals,
Within its protective outspread arms.
.
But morning continues relentlessly
The veils called Night, to strip away,
With eyes wide open, breathlessly,
Not caring Nights fears to allay.
.
Till there appear the contours
Against the faintly blushing sky,
Of heaving bosoms silhouetted
While Lady earth does sleeping lie.
.
A gentle zephyr fragrant with the scent
Of Earth's perfumes wafts gently down,
Caressing intrepidly the sacrosanct
Person of Earth in Nights faded gown.
.
A shiver through the figure shimmers
Of sleeping Earth; there is a stir
Of rustling leaves, and there glimmers,
A glimpse of her glory in a blur
.
Of tantalising, immortal, frozen time
Suddenly into focus springing,
As Morning light explodes to shine
Incandescently, with birdsong ringing,
.
The nuptial bells of their union immortal
And the Earth is bathed in ethereal glow,
While the sun peeps gently through the portal
Her beauty to the waiting world to show.
.

A Poem from a compilation Dated 1974 of Sunshine Magazine

THE BANKER AND THE GARDENER
.
A banker passed a gardener.
As each went on his way,
The gardener wished that he could be
A banker, rich and gay.
.
He’d sit in comfort in a chair
Behind his office walls
And greet important, busy men
Who came on urgent calls.
.
He didn’t know the banker’s thoughts.
The banker envied him
His glowing tan, his bright, clear eyes,
His graceful stride and vim.
.
“Oh, what a job!” the banker sighed
“To work near trees and roses,
And breathe fresh air that hasn’t been
In other people’s noses!”

• Posted Without permission from Lyla Myers - the poet

LOVES END - A poem by Deepak Menon

LOVES END

It was brought to my notice
In words profound
By one who has loved intensely
The world around

That the end of love
comes.....
When the stars fall to earth
Crushing freedom into bottomless wells,
And the devils take rebirth
Amidst the clamor of clanging bells,
When volcanoes spout fiery death
Burning emotions into torrid ash,
And tornadoes shout obscene threats
Driving divinity before them to crash,
Into barren hills of cracked stone,
Where none can live nor even stand
For each moment there, lives alone
In the eternity men have not known,
To last but a moment in flaming time,
Which they only have lived to see
And feel, who have tasted the wine
Of love that forever will be
Their conceptualization of eternity
That exists in reveler’s worlds
Where never is seen the Trinity
Nor the flag of prudence unfurled
To be a shroud covering the corpses
Of mindless thoughts that try to fight
The bonds holding the synopsis
Of unborn yearnings put to flight
By constancy coursing the walls
Of forts built only to fall
Before righteousness’ tall
Sanctimonious claims to all
Who would or could never tell
That the end of love was not hell
Nor parting, nor hating as well

But annihilations final bell!!

Touch me not in my garden......

The hand went out to caress the leaves ........








And this is what happened !!!!!!






Sometimes we shrivel up when love reaches out to us.......

The Spear of Eternity - A fabric Painting by Deepak Menon

My first and only attempt at this kind of art ...

LIGHTHOUSE IN A GREY WORLD - A PAINTING BY DEEPAK MENON

THIS WAS PAINTED USING ONLY BLACK
WITH ITS MYRIAD SHADES

PRINCESS - a poem by Deepak Menon

PRINCESS
.

Leaning on the window sill
Waiting for her lord she stands,
Grasping the rusted iron grill
With coarse and worn out hands.
.
Now unkempt with streaks of grey
Her once lustrous locks of hair,
Trail in a tail behind her head
Her eyes locked in a fixed stare.
.
Staring at the bend of the dusty road
Willing him to come into sight,
His frail shoulders carrying the load
Manfully in the failing light,
.
Of the tantalisingly descending sun
Slowly vanishing into night's vale,
As though her little frame to shun
At the window leaning weak and frail.
.
A wistful sigh escapes her lips
As a pleasant memory from long ago,
Into her mind gently skips
Of all the joys she chose to forego.
.
When she followed him, so mild and kind
Into the harsh and cruel world outside,
To stand by his side and there to find
Her very own niche in which to hide.
.

Her eyes glisten with a tear unshed
Unblinking, she thinks of her child,
Lost long ago crying for bread
When hard times, her life defiled.
.
Then her face of a sudden is brightened
With a smile of beatific delight,
She stands erect her bearing lightened
As her Lord comes into her sight.
.
All thoughts of her poverty banished
She races down the stairs to greet,
The man who on her, just love lavished
As wearily he trudges up the street.
.
He sees her running, flying towards him
He drops the bag of toys unsold,
As from the streetlight high above him
He is swathed in a halo of gold.
.
His shoulders square out, his head erect
Contentment seeping into his face,
He stretches out his arms towards her
Wrapping her in tender embrace.
.

Some little while later he picks the things
Still holding her, clasped by his side,
The tattered woman and man on golden wings
Their world complete - walk inside........

MAN BRAINS OR WOMANS BRAIN PRICING LIST

BRAINS
     In the hospital the relatives gathered in the waiting room, where   their family member lay gravely ill.
     Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and somber. "I'm afraid I'm   the bearer of bad news," he said as he surveyed the worried faces.
       "The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain   transplant. It's an experimental procedure, very risky but it is the only hope."
       "Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have to pay for the brain   yourselves." The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news.
       After  a great length of time, someone asked, "Well, how much does a brain cost?"
       The doctor quickly responded, "$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for a  Female brain."
       The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not to smile, avoiding eye   contact with the women, but some actually smirked.
     A man, unable to control   his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask, "Why  is the male brain so much more?"
       The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and explained to the entire group, "It's just standard pricing procedure.  We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they've actually been used."
.
Cheers.

Clock Tower at Dehradun

A beautiful Heritage Symbol of long ago at the
State Capital of the state of Uttaranchal

The Advantages of not knowing all the ways language is used

KETCHUPA woman was trying hard to get the ketchup
to come out of the bottle.
During her struggle the phone rang, so she asked her
4-year-old daughter to answer the phone.
.
"It's the minister,Mommy," the child said to her mother.
.
Then she added to the caller,
"Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now.
She's hitting the bottle."

A REFLECTION BY ME : - WILL MANKIND EVER BE ABLE TO RETAIN THE INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD THROUGH ITS SHORT SOJURN ON EARTH?

Kadhai Pleasures - Peanuts

That is a Picture of an Indian Karhai .

It should be made of Iron to be really good.

And it is used in India for cooking virtually

every kind of vegetables, meat, sweetmeats

and snacks. The peanuts you see have been

roasted in hot sand in a Kadhai and believe it

or dont - there is nothing better than eating

this kind of roasted Indian peanut in the chilly

eventide as winter sets in.

SONNET NO 11 by Deepak Menon

SONNET NO 11
By Deepak Menon

Blemishes on Faces, Club Footed Children and Balding Maidens are part
Of jokes that the Gods play on the little two legged creature called Man
Blaming misfortune on the Gods then, and cursing nature from the start
Is but what must come naturally to the sufferers of this diverse clan.
Is there light in the darkness? And what does light look like? Can it be told
By one who is born without the pretty doe(s)s that the poets most admire?
Is there music in silence? And what does music sound like? Can it be told
By one who is one with the silence of eternity and in silence must retire?
Does God wait in the Churches and Mosques and Temples for man to pray?
That he may hear his voice from among the many who howl for Him
Does man have to bow his head and repeat what the holy men tell him say?
So that, he may be accepted by his fellows - filled with pity for him.
    So many questions asked and so many answers sought -Aeons pass
    Yet we imperfect remain, starkly reflected in life’s looking glass!!

THE TATTERED PENNANT - Title Poem of the Book by Deepak Menon

THE TATTERED PENNANT

'Twas nothing but a flash of purest white
Splitting the velvet fabric of the night
That was the passion of those yesteryears
Already fading ere the bird took flight

Yet, in that briefest of interludes with time
With greedy lips while gulping the wine
The meaning of life was revealed in full
Alas! To have tasted the fruit was the crime.

A bittersweet melody was the sentence passed
An everlasting joy - in eternal sorrow masked
Living memories to keep the wreck afloat
In futile search of a golden shore long past

But as a great bard long gone expressed
"Hope rises eternal in the human breast"
So does the lonely mast in an ocean of tears
Flutter its tattered pennant in its foolish quest.

JUMP IF YOU WANT TO REACH ANYWHERE AND THIS IS A PAINTING I MADE - JUMPING WITHOUT PARACHUTE

This is a Hello from Deepak

This was a wonderful painting in the Tibetan Library at Dehradun - so it took a snap - Run Like the Wind from now on

This is a Hello from Deepak

JOY - A proverb by Deepak Menon

JOY

10.1 Joy is the exhalted happiness that transcends all human
emotions. The meeting between two lovers; The vista of corn
ripening in the farmers field; The sight of a child relishing
food; all these give joy. And the greatest joy is the joy that
owes its birth to love.


10.2 To enjoy is to have a ephemeral feeling of pleasure on the
happening of a short lived event. Enjoyment lasts only as long as
the event and does not touch the deeper emotions. Joy permeates
to the very core of ones soul and touches the tenderest chords in
our hearts.


10.3 Is there any joy as intense and as surely destined to
retreat into gloom as the joy of a lover ?

SONNET NO 5 - By Deepak Menon

Ah! The pleasures of the flesh be nothing compared
To the savoring of a morsel when hunger calls
To the solace when in sickness am I tenderly cared
To its soothing touch when the summer rain falls

O! The pain of parting from my true love is naught
Compared to the agony when mine child does cry
Or the feel of his brow when it’s feverish and hot
Or from the glimpse of a tear in mother’s eye

But hunger’s soon forgot till the next meal
And autumn erases memories of the summer rain
A toy stops the cries and the pain soon does heal
Soon forgot is the tear in mother’s eye had lain

....... But my yearning for the tender looks of Love's eyes
....... Is simmering constancy – a glimpse of Paradise!

RAGE - A POEM BY Deepak Menon

RAGE

Simmering Rage, this gentle world fills
Blind Rage fanned by sympathy,
Sympathy which around us mills
Arousing Rage instead of empathy.

Rage that we cannot our conscience still
Rage against our hidden guilt,
Rage blurring and blinding our vision till
Sympathy is covered with a dark quilt,

Of apathy, on which we proudly walk
No longer seeing the ones in need,
Of indifference, on which we boast and talk
And to sympathy's calls we pay no heed.

We hear not the supplications of the weak
We care not whether they starve or feed,
We slide past those who our sympathy seek
Or bury them like lifeless seed.

For without Rage our minds to seal
From the suffering which fills our world,
Knowing we are helpless its sores to heal
Into insanity, we would be hurled.

Deepak Menon

And they all around - silently lie - A Poem by Deepak Menon

And they all around - silently lie

There is a poem in the fall of a leaf,

There is a poem in the bark of a tree,

There is a poem in the flight of a bird,

There is a poem in the wind blowing free.

.

So open your mind and consign to the deep,

The opaque shroud which covers your eye,

And look around and wake from sleep,

The poems which all everywhere silently lie.

.

The poems embalmed in the potters clay,

The poems frozen in the grains of wood,

The poems hidden all along your way,

The poems lying crushed under your foot.

.

You need not to read a ponderous tome,

Like this book you hold in your hand,

To discover the poems which have their home,

On sky and sea and on land.

.

So replace on the shelf this book of sorts,

And break the shell within which you live,

And unutterable beauty will flood your thoughts,

When surrendering, nature its poetry will give!!,

.
Deepak Menon
Copyright ©1999 Deepak Menon

SONNET NO 7 By Deepak Menon

Many rungs has the ladder which I ascend
Lost in clouds is the peak where lies my goal
Will not some Angel its wings to me lend?
For I dare not tarry lest Earthward I roll
And that Heaven for whose glory I do aspire
That land of the Nectar of Immortality
May prove to be a fable of some great liar
A graveyard of souls lost in morality
Yet the call of the faraway bells, which chime
A melody that moves faint chords deep within
Fills me with an irresistible longing for a time
Lost in the past – yet somewhere still existing
And so in the searching - the meaning of life lies
Waiting to be found, before the light of day ... flies!

SACRIFICE - BY Deepak Menon

SACRIFICE

2.1 SACRIFICE is not the foundation upon which

you can build the palace of your life.

It is merely an adhesive used by builders who use it

to cement together bricks called obligations.

Relationships built with obligation bricks often crumble.

They crumble because of the weight of obligations

which often are too much for one or the other to bear!

2.2. A lasting relationship is one devoid of sacrifice;

where no obligations are imposed nor accepted;

where any action is done without expectations;

where the spirit of joyous unconstrained freedom exists;

where perfect understanding of these things prevails!

2.3. Beware of sacrificing yourself for

the sake of continuing a relationship.

You may end up with the loss of the relationship

or at the very least, a soured and bitter one!

THE TROPHY

There's always room for a couple of beers....

THIS WAS SENT TO ME AS AN EMAIL !!!!

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, think about the mayonnaise jar.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.

When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full.

They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.

He shook the jar lightly.

The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full.
They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.
The students responded with a more hesitant "yes."

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and
poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the
empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided,
"I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life."

The golf balls are the important things
- your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your passions,
things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your
life would still be full."

"The pebbles are the other things that matter

like your job, your house, your car.
The sand is everything else - the small stuff.

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room
for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life."

"If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,

you will never have room for the things that are important to you."

"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your Happiness.
Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups.
Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18.
There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal.

Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented.

The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked," he said.
"It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
there's always room for a couple of beers."

THE STATE BANK OF INDIA, WHOLE BANK LEVEL FIRST PRIZE AS THE BEST STAFF TRAINING CENTRE OF THE COUNTRY ,WHICH WAS HEADED BY DEEPAK MENON (ASST GENERAL MANAGER) STC DEHRADUN

This is a Hello from Deepak

Is that not the most wonderful flower?

This is a Hello from Deepak

Deepak - 15th August 2005

Independence Day - Dehradun

The Nod - A Poem by Deepak Menon

We met again ....

An age had passed,
Nay, a thousand ages,
Since your love did wane.

Time had not dulled or stilled
The inflections of your voice,
Echoing in my brain

You stepped out of the coach
As serene as on the day you left,
Looked at me casually, without shame.

Your stranger's face overlapped
Your image, which since you left,
Had in my heart lain.

Waking me from my sleep of ages
As your face, nodding politely,
My sorrow did forever drain.

The thousand ages, there ended
With that indifferent nod.
I boarded my train.

Yet, remained a subdued longing
For the age, now forever past,
A bittersweet pain.

We never met again .....

THE LOTUS OF THE DESERT A poem by Deepak Menon

As I walked along the road, I spied
A little boy sitting, by its side.
His head was held in one tiny hand
With the other he scribbled in the sand.

I stopped and asked him why he looked sad,
He looked up and said he was feeling bad
That his parents had for him no time
Not even to read him a nursery rhyme.

He had for his company only toys
Which he shared with the other boys,
But no books had he with him to talk
When his parents went for a walk.

How he wished they could see his heart
Which had yearned for books from the start
BOOKS like he had often seen
In neighboring houses where he had been.

My heart went out to the little boy
Who had been deprived of tasting the joy
Of the wonderful world found only in books
Delicacies prepared by the finest cooks.

I took his hand and walked with him
To the stately mansion he lived in
And found it full of empty shelves
Empty heads caring for them selves

With not a thought for the hidden need
Of the little soul drying like a weed
Thirsting for knowledge not knowing where
To find it, because no one did care.

Deepak and Abha on 26th July 2005

This is a Hello from Deepak

The Doon Valley- Alive with the beauty of Nature

Dreams come alive at the Sulphur Springs Road

Where a solitary Gliding Dove stands

In The Doon Valley

Reflections - That was not what it looked like when I painted it

This is a Hello from Deepak

This is a Photograph of the Forest Research Institute of India at Dehradun

This is a Hello from Deepak

Hyderabad Night Lights from Banjara Hills

If ever - A Poem by Deepak Menon

IF EVER, OVER MY GRAVE, YOU GRIEVE

A moment ago your eyes personified life's joys, great and small
Your face smiled at the world.
Your face still smiles, but like the smile painted on a doll
As absently, you brush aside a curl,

Of your carelessly ribboned locks of wavy lustrous hair
Falling in a cascade around your face.
And I see that the fire of love in your eyes, is no longer there
Vanished without a trace.

I know that, for some time you will continue to profess love
While you gently retreat,
From my life, knowing that, I have already suffered enough
While worshipping your feet.

I wonder if you will ever think about me in later years,
When another, you gently leave;
I wonder if your lovely eyes will well with reluctant tears,I
f ever, over my grave, you grieve.

A Little goat went for a climb - A poem for little goats

A Little goat went for a climb
To the top of a little hill
He climbed and he climbed
And he climbed until
He reached the top of the hill

The little goat then looked around
From the top of the little hill
He looked and he looked
And looked till he had his fill
From the top of the little hill

The little goat at last looked down
From the top of the little hill
And he gave a little cry
When he saw how high
Was the top of the little hill.

The little goat tried to get down
From the top of the little hill
But the way was steep
And he fell in a heap
Near the top of the little hill

When the little goat opened his eye
Near the top of the little hill
A little teardrop fell
And fell and fell
To the bottom of the little hill.

But when it fell with a little splash
Mother goat at the bottom of the little hill
Saw the tear fall
And at once knew all
And climbed up the little hill

And when she neared the top
She saw on the little hill
Her baby little goat
With a sob in his throat
Near the top of the little hill

Mother goat picked up little goat
Near the top of the little hill
And carried him down
To her house in the town
Far away from the little hill

So the lesson we have learned
From the goat and the little hill
Is never to stray
Through night or day
And always listen to mother’s will.

Deepak Menon

EMPIRE HILL - a poem

EMPIRE HILL

(a poem by Deepak Menon)

The battle lost , the remnants fled

Of the once proud host, gallantly led
By flamboyant officers in flashing red
Nursing wounds that profusely bled

Not long 'ere had bounded up the hill
Hearts pounding, flush'd with the thrill
Of certain victory, no thought that ill

Could befall them, of indomitable will

Almost at the summit, they heard a shout
"NOW LADS," and then, there flashed out
A wall of flame, from the silent redoubt

And then began the rout

Of the greatest army the world had known
By ragged farmers in skin and bone
Who rebelled against the British throne
To found a nation of their own

A haphazard derelict mob, of motley men
With flintlocks so old, some knew not when
they had been made, or even when
had last been used, or would function then.

They crouched behind their earthen mound
which they, overnight, had raised from the ground,
And with haggard eyes looked around
Their ears filled with the thunderous sound

Of the Redshirts charging, in full cry

And each thought, he'd surely die
And his body rotting there would lie

Food for the vultures circling high.

For ammunition, they almost had none
No strength had they to try to run
Just one thought, into their minds was drum'd
Hold fire, and the battle is won

So there they crouched with simple faith

Until t'was almost too late
For nearly upon them, crazed with hate
Loomed the enemy, invincible and great

Then suddenly they heard, the awaited shout

"FIRE," and the trusty flints belched out
A sheet of death in a mighty gout
Which toss'd the British right about.


Like corks floating in a stormy sea
Shattering instantly, what used to be
The pride of the Empire's army

But the farmers still crouched wearily.

Not even knowing, they had toll'd
That day on Bunker Hill
The bell, whose chimes rolled

Around the world until......

THE LOSS OF EMPIRE

SKYMERGE - A Glimpse....

CHAPTER I - (OF THE BOOK) - SKYMERGE

by Deepak Menon

Ruhan the Lute Player slowly came to consciousness. For some time, he thought that he was dead or that his soul had departed from his body - so devoid of feeling was he. The silence deafened him after the terrible cacophony of the previous seven days. Darkness covered the land so he could not see. Slowly he became aware of a long drawn out groaning, sinking into his consciousness from some infinitely remote distance. It took him a long time to realise that the sound was emanating from his own half-open mouth.

And then he became aware of pain. Pain, permeating slowly into every cell of his body - overpowering him with its intensity. Pain such as he had never dreamt could exist. He screamed uncontrollably into the darkness. Screamed again and again till he could scream no more. And lapsed into merciful unconsciousness.

Far to the East from where Ruhan lay, a huge reddish sun rose slowly over the horizon. So lethargic it was, that it took several hours to become fully visible. And it flooded the land with a blood red coverlet, as though the heavens had painted the soil red. Leafless trees stood out sparsely across the vast endless plain, brought into stark relief by the sun - - dark skeletons haloed in gold. The light of the sun was not warm. It did not make any appreciable difference to the chill, which covered the land. Yet it did contain some little warmth, which caused threads of wispy vapour to rise from pockets of water across the plains - so that very soon a light mist covered the land and marched westwards with the unveiling horizon.

Ruhan slowly came to, for the second time. The harsh red light of the rising sun revealed his body grotesquely sprawled at the top of a rocky outcrop incongruously marring the otherwise featureless plain. He groaned again and lay still. After an interminable time his mind succeeded in reasserting itself despite the intense pain in his body - and he could recall his name. Suddenly like a flash of lightning searing across his brain, he recoiled as the happenings of the previous days penetrated his consciousness and his memory hammered his mind with buffeting storms of images.

Images of a sword, thrusting into his body. Images of hands, reaching out for his, and then vanishing into the swirling waters. Of screams echoing in the darkness suddenly cut off as though with a knife. Of the raging torrents tearing his body away from the stark rock he clung to with his lacerated hands and ripped out fingernails. Images of horror, beyond human endurance.

He lapsed into unconsciousness again.

When he came to again - the Red Fury of the sun was beating down on his body from directly overhead. His skin was burning with its warmth. Groaning, he stirred and making a Herculean effort slowly sat up. His eyes opened and he looked around him. From his vantage point on the rocks, he could see all around him. There was not a soul to be seen, just a vast muddy plain. He lay back again and rested for a few moments.

When he opened his eyes the sun had shifted several degrees to the West. An agoraphobic terror filled him for an instant. He rose to his hands and knees and then to his feet. Very carefully he started climbing down from the rocks. Each movement brought waves of intense pain. Barely conscious, he at last stepped off the rocky outcrop onto the soft slush of the plain. He was faint with hunger and the ache in his stomach surpassed all the other pain he had sustained from the battering waves of the deluge. Guided by some unknown instinct he lurched away in the direction of the setting sun.

His staggering weaving walk continued for an interminable time. At last he reached the end of his tether and his body folded slowly onto the welcoming coolness of the mud.

High above in the red sky there was a flash of silver. A pair of lovely eyes scanned the plains for any sign of life as the craft flashed across the skies. The faint sound of its engines penetrated Ruhan's consciousness, as he lay like an inert log on the muddy plain. He lurched to his feet - and performed a madman's dance. Waving and croaking he leaped about frantically. He slipped and fell - came up again covered with mud. The craft continued its steady progress across the sky. Sobbing with frustration and despair he started hurling blobs of mud into the sky. Finally, exhausting the last of his little strength, he sank slowly into oblivion.

And the one in the craft detected a flicker of movement on the computer screen.

AND THAT IS AN INDIAN DAME IN ORANGE

This is a Hello from Deepak

The Tulsi Plant

An Engraving of Devotion

Devotion lies in the eye of the beholder!
We all know that Indian Women are devoted.
What we did'nt know was that they are devoted
to the Tulsi Plant!!!
And the woman in the Picture is not only devoted
She is an engraved woman on a metal sheet!!

The demoninloves house in Dehradun India

That is where the demoninlove was born and lives

DEHRADUN THE SULPHER SPRINGS VALLEY

This is a Hello from Deepak

A thought - Deepak Menon

A VERSE IN HINDI
TRANSCRIBED INTO ENGLISH

Aapki aawaz ko sunne ke liye hum taras gaye
Par hawaon mein aapke lavz door tak bikhar gaye
Kya zindagi mein ulfat ka hai yehi hansil
Ke paas aate aate, aap Sarai se guzar gaye.

I yearned intensely your voice to hear
But winds scattered your words to distant shores
Is the ultimate paradise of life just this
That coming nearer - you passed this oasis?

Somehow the ethos of the original verse
is distorted - will some one try to find a better
translation or translate it into something better?

Deepak Menon

My Kingdom - A painting by Deepak Menon

Kingdoms are not always in our imaginations
- at times they have a tangible and breathtaking
vista before our eyes.
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder -
just as Rose is beautiful to the Rainbow -
the Rainbow is also beautiful to the Rose.

THE RETURN OF ULFA I - An eyeopener

THE RETURN OF ULFA I

(Prelude to the Book)
(If and ever I manage to complete it)
by

Deepak Menon


Lord Gotrial Ulanob was annoyed. He had paced restlessly up and down the rather cramped quarterdeck of the Royal Flag Spacer 'Intumescent', the entire afternoon, waiting for word that the cruiser ULFA 1 had arrived. However there was no trace of ULFA 1.

ULFA I had been dispatched by him against the advise of the despised Commander of the fleet Admiral Baron Muchalest who as usual had, merely left the decision to Ulanob. Ulanob had worked as Muchalest's adjutant many years ago and he knew his style of functioning. He knew that Muchalest must already have two messages ready with the radio operator. In case the Ulfa I returned, the first message would be sent to the Council describing his brilliant strategy in excruciatingly shameless detail. In case the Ulfa I did not return, there would be a message to Ulanob advising him to attend a court of inquiry the following day. Yes, Ulanob had reason to be annoyed.

And with the Ulfa I already several hours overdue, Ulanob knew that he had to have a plausible explanation ready within the next few hours, or else he would have to pay. He stopped his pacing and walked to the desk. Sitting down on the contoured chair, he picked up a pen and started writing.

1. Fleet emerged from hyperspace.
2. Operators immediately picked out strong signals of intelligent radio activity from a small planet barely 15 light minutes away.
3. Ulanob informed Muchalest and sought instructions
4. Muchalest does not reply for three days
5. Defeated at his own game, Ulanob sent a suggestion that a cruiser be sent to scout out the planet.
6. Muchalest while conveying his 'reservations' about the suggestion 'reluctantly' advised Ulanob to do as he thought best since he was the Battle commander of the fleet. Muchalest did not mention that he has the power to veto any move made by Ulanob.
7. Ulanob dispatched Ulfa I to approach within a light minute of the target and submit its report.
8. Ulfa I (the latest and only craft of its kind in the entire fleet) activated its "invisibility field" and vanished from all screens.
9. 15 days ago.
10. The loss of the only prototype of its kind would result in Ulanob being drummed out of the forces.

After a long pause, Ulanob took a decision. He asked the operator to send a hyperbeam tracer message to Ulfa I. He knew that within a few moments he would receive a severe reprimand from Muchalest for breaking radio silence - The cardinal and unforgivable crime in an inhabited alien galaxy. But then, he did not have much to lose.

The signal sent, without waiting for Muchalest's reprimand, he sent a curt report to the Admiral, adding that in his opinion they should wait for another few days. The expected reprimand was received almost simultaneously on the same frequency and with the weakest signal possible. Muchalest had given him three days and only three days. And Ulanob could do nothing but wait, since his orders forbade him to come into any contact with any alien species on pain of death. His job was to chart that part of the Galaxy and that was all. He went to his chamber, took a somno and fell into a deep sleep.

The Ulfa1 commanded by young Captain Julo, the son of His Most Exhalted Right Royal Regent Of The Universe The High Lordship Hintomeer Regalda Rubuo Finko, was overjoyed when Ulanob had succumbed to his veiled threats of drawing Ulanob's over caution (cowardice) to the attention of His Most Exhalted Right Royal Regent Of The Universe The High Lordship Hintomeer Regalda Rubuo Finko, (we shall refer to him as Finko in future). Young Julo treated the whole thing as a simulation game where he had the finest ship in the universe, and all others were moronic hoodas (barbarians).

Thee days after he left the fleet, the Ulfa I was in orbit around the planet. Within a few hours, Juno's team of scientists had determined that the inhabitants of the planet had developed a primitive level of technology. They had mastered space flight but at speeds, which were a mere crawl. They had numerous satellites in orbit, one of which indicated alien activity. It was this satellite that Julo was particularly interested in. He knew that he was forbidden from making contact, but the chance of capturing a member of a new alien species was too good to be lost. After he would easily get around his father (Finko), as he always had since childhood.

Secure in the knowledge that the Ulfa I was invisible, he boldly directed the pilot to take the craft right up to within a few feet of the satellite, and match orbits. Every monitoring instrument within the Ulfa I was now directed to the satellite. The metal which it was made of; the interior design of the satellite; the electrical circuits; the composition of the atmosphere within; the composition of the bodies of the aliens within; all these and many more analysis' were pressed into service. The team of scientists crouched over their instruments and screens, screening, analyzing and compiling the voluminous outputs. Julo in the meanwhile, when not playing his favorite computer stimulated space war games, slept peacefully.


The Space Station Horus - Commander Tom Jones of the Joint Venture International Space Station Horus, shook his head in exasperation. His crew consisting of Commanders Romesh Bannerjee of India, A.V.Pukov of Russia, Glenda Bedder of the United Kingdom, Jacob Getz of Israel and Joan Arc of France, sat around the spacious main control room. Jones peered once again over the shoulder of the only technician on board, M. Kalam of Pakistan. Kalam was in the process of screwing back the front panel of the large control cabinet which housed all the intricate instruments used by them to monitor ambient radiation, solar emissions, neutrino and X Ray emissions etc. His task completed, he threw the main power switch - and the same distorted picture appeared on all the screens.

"Well?' questioned Jones.
"There has to be something wrong outside the satellite, Commander" said Kalam. "Maybe the antenna's power array has developed some snag. We'll have to go out and see".
"I'll back you up", said Jones, taking a decision. " We'll go right away".

A scant hour later, the upper hatch on the side of the Satellite facing away from the Earth opened, and Jones' clumsy figure climbed out of the Air Lock. Securing his safety line to the sprocket just outside the hatch, he looked up. For a moment he stared in stunned amazement. Then his mouth fell open and he had an uncontrollable urge to rub his eyes.

Not a hundred feet away, motionless relative to the satellite, floated a gigantic golden colored teardrop, many times larger than the space station.

At length, he looked back towards the hatch and saw the upper half of Kalam's body motionless with gaze fixed on the teardrop.

Jones flipped the transmission switch, and after a moments pause to gather his wits about him, he drawled " We'el what's that thar we see ".

Kalam's high-pitched voice replied almost simultaneously " It's not real commander .. We must be seeing a mirage ".

"Get back into the ship and tell me what how the computer analyses it. I'm waiting here. " Said Jones.

Kalam scrambled back into the airlock and pressed the lever to shut the hatch. Even before the inner lock had opened he was already out of his helmet. Frantically unzipping his suit, he scrambled awkwardly into the control room where the others were on their feet, having heard the exchange between the two. Pukov was already on the transmitter trying to contact Earth Command, but with no success. The same interference that had disrupted their communications over the past several hours continued. They were effectively cut off from the world.

Kalam lurched to the console, shedding his suit like a snake molting, and directed the cameras outside towards the 'Teardrop'. His consternation was complete when he saw that no image appeared on the screen, save the previous distortions. Outside the station, Jones, by now having recovered his composure to some extent, studied the strange object minutely. There was no doubt about it. It was artificial and made from some sort of alloy with a golden hue.

Kalam's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. " Skipper - there is nothing on the screens - the cameras are not picking up the image at all!"

Jones had already known that by now. His mind had analyzed the strange phenomenon and the sudden flickering out of television transmission in the craft - and he had no doubt that the Teardrop was responsible. And the Horus was entirely unarmed. The question now was - what was to be done. The intentions of the Teardrop were also not clear to him. They could be hostile - cutting of the Horus' communications. But conversely the interest in the Horus could also be merely academic - several hours had passed since the Horus' had developed the problem - and the Teardrop had not made any other hostile move. On an impulse Jones hurled his heavy torch towards the Teardrop. He immediately regretted the impulse, but it was too late.

The torch sailed lazily towards the Teardrop. Jones eyes remained riveted on it. And then he shook his head in bewilderment. The torch sailed through the skin of the Teardrop and vanished. There was no impact. It was as if it had been swallowed up without a ripple. The Teardrop remained suspended motionless. Jones slowly climbed back into the airlock.

The Ulfa I - The clang of Jones' heavy torch hitting the metal hull of the Ulfa I, reverberated through the craft. Julo leaped out of his bunk as though he had been shot out of it. He raced to the main control room. The panel of scientists there looked at him in silence.

"What was that?" Gasped Julo. The lookout on visual watch came uo to him and reported. " Two aliens came out of the Craft, Sir". One of them threw a large cylindrical object at us. The sound you heard was the object striking the Hull".

For a moment Julo was speechless. Then he roared " How can that be possible ? No one can see us! "

"Well, apparently that's what we thought, Sir" said the lookout. " I saw the whole thing myself. The first alien stared at us for a long time. Finally he threw the cylindrical object straight at the center of the craft. It was no coincidence. The alien aimed at us. And the object he threw was some sort of a light-emitting device, probably a tool. Not a weapon. One of the mini-drones picked it up.

Who are you? - A poem by me

WHO ARE YOU?

Who are you - I wonder?

What are your eyes like?

Does your frown split worlds asunder?

What are your smiles like?

When you laugh do your teeth flash

Like inlaid marble on ruby lips?

Does a glance from you the hopes dash

Of yearning Gods longing for sips

Of the nectar of the honeyed words you say

While scattered around you they lie

Prostrate - obeisance to you to pay

For your one kind word and then to die

Rather then let relentless ravages of time

Wreak their inevitable havoc to wither

The flower of their worship so sublime

And scatter their precious memory thither

As one day they will do to mine

Who am too weak to let life go

And cling to memory fragments of thine

Oh! Are you still what you were - long ago?

Deepak Menon

Long Ago - Memories

This is a Hello from Deepak

Sunrise

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ANTITHESIS TO TAMAMSHUDH by Deepak Menon

THE FIRST OF EACH VERSE IS FROM

TAMAMSHUDH (Book of Poetry)- by Deepak Menon

The second of each verse is the afterthought

again by me. I wonder either makes any sense

to you?

1.'Tis the hope of that illusion called paradise
Where live the souls of the departed wise,
That makes even the wisest of men fools
Forsaking who today could be at their side.

1.Hope itself is an illusion created by the wise
Creating also the myth of eternal Paradise
To keep alive their visions of immortality
Which is their nectar of life – And their vice.

2. 'Tis a paradox of inequity predestined
With the bliss of eternal love entwined
How else could it be, that despair itself
Into the lover's heart, its way does find?

2. Why call the paradox of inequity predestined
When the bliss of eternal love no one can find?
And despair filling the so called lover’s heart?
Is nothing but a figment of his dreamers mind!

Hope you get that eternal Bliss thing or whatever it is!!

Post a comment if you can and dont bother if it is also equally confusing. Confusion is one thing I specialise in Ha! Ha!

PS "Tamam means 'All' in Persian

"Shudh" means 'Pure' in Hindi"

The book 'TAMAMSHUDH' is written in English

PRELUDE TO "LIFE" (Whatever that means!) : a poem by Deepak Menon

LIFE

As the shadows deepened with the setting sun
a dusty old Ford rolled into the Park of Fun
and parked in a corner of the parking lot
adjacent to a vacant and empty plot.

But no sooner had the ancient vehicle stopped
the driver his sweating forehead mopped
gave a few curses, at large to the world
and droplets of sweat out the window hurled.

With a groan of discomfort he stepped out of the car
and walked to the Ticket Window which was not very far
buying a ticket like a lion stalking into his lair
he walked through the gates of the Fun fair

A strange thing happened as he entered the gate
he felt that he had entered the fair too late
but too late for what ? He frowned in thought
shut his ears the sound of the fair to blot

But think as he would he could not recall
even a single incident from his past at all
which could have made him hesitate this way
he could'nt even remember what he ate that day.

Finally with a shrug of his shoulders he went inside
and ambled across the fair to the other side
guided by an instinct from the back of his mind
he walked into a stall not expecting to find

any thing over there to make him laugh
and came face to face with a newborn calf
which was one of the most unexpected things
that he had ever encountered in all his flings

of which he had a fair number to account for
from nearby New York city to far away Gor.
A smile came unexpectedly to his thin lips
as he beheld the calf wriggle its hips

and then the calf looked him in the eye
drawing from him a very long drawn sigh
at the wonder of the innocence of the calf
and then he was compelled to laugh

at the way the calf staggered and swayed
as directly towards him its way it made.
He backed away in consternation from the stall
but stopped when he heard a plaintive call

from the mouth of the calf which opened wide
and asked him politely to come inside.
He stopped in his tracks with wide open mouth
looked east and west and north and south

but could not see a single person around
who could have uttered an audible sound.
He looked again at the new born calf
and started at his own stupidity to laugh

when all a sudden the calf spoke again
asking him politely if it would rain.
This time he had in his mind no doubt
that it was the calf who had spoken aloud.

He fearfully backed away a step or two
when the calf asked if he had seen the zoo.
This strange question made him pause
and he looked thoughtfully at his paws

pricked up his ears and retracted his nails
and told the calf that animals had tails
then with a cry of horror he realised
that instead of hands - paws hung by his side

he turned to the mirror to see his face
and saw of human features not a trace
instead of a nose he had now a snout
and long canines projected from his mouth

It was a saber tooth tiger that he faced.
In panic round and round the fair he raced
with the calf trundling along behind him
frolicking and full of vigour and vim

and the people there clapped their hands in glee
for it was a most amazing sight to see
as is often expected in fairs of that kind
where people go to relax their mind.

The saber tooth suddenly screeched to a halt
and turned into a stall selling iodised salt
took some and hastily gave the calf a lick
and promptly swaggered out like some city slick!

AND THEN? .... WAIT AND SEE....

DEEPAK

Some Proverbs by Deepak Menon

1. HAPPINESS

1.1. HAPPINESS has to be achieved in much the same way as suc­cess; If one has not worked hard towards achieving happiness, it is not very likely that one will find it.

1.2. TRY is the keyword to HAPPINESS. If you are not happy, it's probably because you have not tried hard enough.......
DO NOT HESITATE TO TRY AGAIN!

1.3. Contrary to popular belief - Happiness is seldom derived from the other person. Phrases such as.. "You give me great happiness ", or "You make me very happy" are meaningless. IT IS ONLY YOUR OWN PERSPECTIVE THAT CAN MAKE YOU RECEPTIVE, AND UPON THE FOUNDATION OF YOUR RECEPTIVENESS LIES THE MANSION OF YOUR HAPPINESS

A SMILE REBORN

This is a Hello from Deepak

A Painting for Posterity

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A SONNET

SONNET NO 6

by

Deepak Menon

The oceans be deep yet the Sea of Sorrow is deeper still

In which the lover from his love estranged, wallows
The mountains be high yet higher is the lonely tower still
From which the lover’s lonely gaze scans the hollows
Enervated by the calamity that knows no earthly parallel
Yet pervades the world of humanity in equal measure
The look or word that transforms heaven into fiery hell
Hurling into depths of sadness what once was pleasure
The sight of a vacuous smile upon the same upturned face
Now meaningless as it follows a vacant and empty look
The frantic nonchalance in the searching for just a trace
Of the raging storms that once his heart by force took
And in that fleeting moment do stop the sands of time
Life losing its lusture, and the song of life – its rhyme.

A Dream ?

HE WHO WOOS YOU LIKE NO MAN
a poem by

Deepak Menon

Smoke swirled around your figure
Swaying like a misty wraith
Amongst the nameless crowd of souls
Dancing their Dance of Faith

Faith in the future they believed in
The future born in the dim past
When fought they battles, couldn’t win
And were into destiny's cauldron cast

To flutter like trembling leaves in the wind
Frantically dancing the Dance they made
A Dance they made to make them forget
The games of love they once had played

When into their midst your timeless shape
Had burst in like a flash of light
Banishing the shadows, the smoke and dark
Scattering all fear into headlong flight

And you danced the Dance of Hope
While stars sparkled in your lovely eyes
And your body sang a Song of Hope
Stilling the multitudes hopeless cries

And they watched with riveted gaze
Your swirling limbs, your haunting face
Your radiant smile, your tossing hair
Your twinkling feet in frantic race

And they knew you danced for me
They watched and wondered frozen in time
While your eyes saw only me
Radiating your love - true, sublime

And they knew that they had seen
Eternity in your sparkling dance
A love so true, so pure - so strong
It left them speechless and askance

And from the mist there appeared
He who wooed you like no man
Took form and swept you far away
Into the Forever Sunshine land

BLUE MOUNTAINS

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Skymerge - The Saga - Prologue to the Book by Deepak Menon

The Saga

"The ocean shall into the sky merge
And then shall walk upon the barren land
the heirs to the throne of mankind!

And there shall be no joy in the living.
And there shall be no feasts to be laid.
And then shall the heirs spurn thee!

Thy names shall be erased from the books.
Thy images shall be splattered with mud.
And thy souls banished to a riven hell"!

Thus spake Ruhan - last of the Doomed Kriels,
as towards the sword he walked to die,
and fulfill the decree of Rangod of Joha.

And then did Suja-Kil raise the flag of Death.
But even as the sword pierced the skin of Ruhan,
the skies reverberated with the boom of thunder!

Lightning flashed, cleaving the sky into two.
Faces of Jeering Gods momentarily appeared.
The crowd shrank back in dismal horror!

For the Great Rain that had no end had begun;
Tears of the Gods, pouring earthward in streams;
Rivulets flowing red, with the blood of their darling

Enraged screams carried by the roaring wind,
filled the ears of the shrieking hoard of the living,
as they shrank to their knees in prayer.

But as if to show, that their prayers were already lost
in the tumult of the wild lamenting of the wind and sky,
thunder ripped through the dark forbidding air!

Smashing the words of prayer into the fortress walls;
Smothering them without even a semblance of an echo,
as the stream became a deluge of great proportion!

And those who could, swam into the maelstrom,
while others clawed their way up the fortress walls,
or wrapped their splayed bodies on the branches of trees!

But as though to scorn these futile efforts of puny souls,
the elements redoubled their fury and mist covered the land
So that only the screams of shattered mouths were heard.

And the fury of the Gods continued for full seven days,
till at last spent and despairing, filled with the sorrow
that succeeds impotent rage - a somnolent silence arose."

demoninlove

demoninlove

"ROSE by any other name would be as beautiful"said the RAINBOW

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Some quatrains from Tamamshudh by Deepak Menon

A few quatrains from "Tamamshudh - Poems of Passion"

by Deepak Menon

28. Many of thy lovers do dance to the sound
Of thy Voice, which makes their world go round.
Some with thine Eyes are enamoured.
But I? - To thy Unseen Soul am bound.

31.And shall thy soul be join'd with mine
When this thy vessel be drained of wine?
Or will it be scattered into the sky
To join the stars that eternally shine?

39.Drunk was I at the rosy flush of dawn
On the fruits of thy ring which I did pawn
The day before, at the tavern's door.
Alas! Both thy ring and thee are gone.

55. 'Tis a wonderful field where He left us all
Each player playing with his own little ball.
Striking here and there without a goal
Until He blows the final whistle - of recall!

76.'Tis a strange desire that will not go away
- Even when the Vine's daughter holds me in sway.
To try to forget the moment spent with thee
Is the reason I go to the tavern - Day after day.

94.A beggar coming across a piece of manuscript one-day
Stared at it in illiterate puzzlement on his way.
Then casting it aside he consoled himself by saying
"The sages too understand not HIS manuscript, they say".

105.O Khayyam! These many long years have I read
About the sorrows that are thy wine and bread.
But tell me did they finally lay thee to rest
On that hallowed ground where She - used to tread?

150. Life eternal is the definition of Love
Which lives on There in the heavens above
And this Earth where we spend our short sojourn
Is but the beautiful birthplace - of Love.

160.It is my desire that before I merge into clay
One final pilgrimage to MY MECCA I will pay,
To beg the forgiveness of all those I loved,
-For having loved them - and saddened their way.

166.The Rose of Autumn is but a vanishing dream
Blurred by the falling leaves, once so green.
But unlike the leaves which, dying, turn to gold
The destiny of the Autumn Rose is to fade away - unseen.

I hope you liked the verses.

Deepak Menon

The Empty Bench waiting for them - By Deepak Menon

This is a Hello from Deepak

A CACTUS FLOWER AT DEHRADUN

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TEMPEST OVER THE COLD LAND BY DEEPAK MENON

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A Lingering Fragrance - Prelude to the Book

A LINGERING FRAGRANCE
(A SHORT STORY by Deepak Menon)

The dog's erratic course found him standing once again outside her house. His drooping and soft brown eyes gazed longingly at the verandah, seeming to will the forbiddingly large opaque door of the house to open.

Within, the lady of the house busied herself with those seemingly endless household chores, which constituted the basic aim of her existence. She had been working tirelessly with a blank, automated, compulsive mind for some time now.

The dog without, continued, in fits and starts, to sniff around in circles, always returning to his station just inside the compound where, after a pause to gaze at the door of the house, he would resume his aimless wandering.

Though it is difficult to say why, the lady of the house whom we shall call Faith, for want of a better name, started abruptly, just as she was about to begin ironing the umpteenth garment for the day. Her eyes flickered to the clock. It was 9 A.M.

Hurriedly switching off the Iron, she made her way to the door, and opening it, stepped out into the verandah. Her anxious eyes searched wildly around for an instant, before coming to rest on the forlorn figure of the dog, waiting patiently at his self appointed station.

She stepped out into the compound, and the dog, with a whimper of pure joy, raced towards her coming to a skidding stop at her feet. A smile suddenly illuminated her face. The wrinkles of care and worry vanished as if they had never been.

The dog too, had changed. The perceptible droop in his bearing had been replaced with a marked hauteur. Her hand dropped down to his downy head and her fingers caressed his soft ears. The dog, (who had no name) wagged his tail furiously, and rubbed his flanks against her legs. She knelt down and placing both arms around his neck, hugged him close to her breast.

And there they remained for some immeasurable time that may have been a moment or an hour - no one can tell. The perfect communion of contented selfless devotion between the two, incredibly beau­tiful to behold for one who KNOWS.

By and by, she loosened her embrace, for the dog, though quite breathless with her frenetically tight grasp, was yet loath to let it end. It would have been very clear to any person who knows about these things that the dog would have willingly died in her arms with no other regret than the regret that he could not suffer a thousand more such deaths. However such people, as we all know, are few and far between.

The only person, who observed the meeting between the two, was the sharp-tongued housewife in the house across the street, who wrinkled her nose in disgust. She did so, not because she was motivated by any hatred of dogs or harboured any ill will against her neighbour. She wrinkled her nose in disgust simply because she was not one of those who KNOWS.

She saw not the unutterable beauty of the emotions behind the embrace. She saw only that the woman was dressed in a nightdress quite unsuitable for stepping outdoors in, and that the dog was a mongrel with a half starved look and a ragged muddy and mangy coat, probably suffering from a large percentage of known dog diseases and probably many as yet unknown to man.

However, her opinion hardly mattered to either the woman or the dog (at least at that moment) for both were oblivious to the world, and probably would not have noticed the wrinkled nose even if it had been hovering an inch from their faces.

The piercing whistle of the pressure cooker sliced down like a guillotine, in a fraction of an instant severing into two, their molded bodies. Hastily slipping a biscuit into the dog’s mouth, the lady hurried into the house, never looking back.

The dog stood there a moment, during which time he allowed the magic that had transformed him into a majestic creature, to evaporate. Slowly turning, he dragged his once again drooping tail away. One may have been mistaken, but hardly had he taken a few steps, it appeared as if some thought, (possibly of tomorrows tryst) entered his mind, and once again his bearing became erect and his tail straightened as he vanished into the distance. Of course, it must have been the imagination of the observer.

For, who ever heard of a thinking dog.

The dog had entered the woman’s life quite imperceptibly. She never knew quite since when, but had a dim recollection of seeing the dog often standing at his self appointed station, but could not exactly say when she actually noticed him.

As for the dog, it is quite obviously pointless to speculate as to why or how he came to get into the habit of standing outside the woman’s house, despite the fact that there was no earthly reason for him to do so.

One may possibly presume, that there was an unearthly or supernat­ural reason, but that is quite ridiculous, for he was only a stray dog, such as are found in the droves and dozens all around the world; and it would be equally impossible for us to imagine that the dog had planned the entire thing to gain the woman’s confidence, for dogs, as we all know, live for the moment and are incapable of preparing for the future being of simple trusting minds.

Let us therefore leave the motives or reasons to the seers to determine. Suffice it then to say, he had simply started coming there.

The days passed. The daily ritual continued. The woman became the subject of talk as often happens when people are not able to comprehend actions they themselves cannot associate with. The woman’s family found her actions impossible to understand, espe­cially when the daily ritual with the dog interfered with their lives.

The entire family planned a holiday.

The woman , however delayed their departure on the appointed day on some pretext or the other till the dog appeared. Despite the panic of departure , she took a moment off to hug the dog and pass on a handful of biscuits. Then she was off in the car with never a backward glance, listen­ing to the reprobation of her family, leaving the dog staring forlornly after her. The train was boarded only in the nick of time. We can only presume why she did this. Maybe because she had no way to tell the dog that she was going out of town, and she felt that he would understand only if she went in his presence. It would be quite silly to think that she whispered her itinerary to the dog while she hugged him.

But, strange as it may seem, it was observed (and sworn before several of the communities honored and honest gossips, to be the truth ) by the woman with the perpetually wrinkled nose across the street, that the dog only put in his next appearance the morning after Faith returned.

And then, one day, when the dog arrived for his daily dose of life, the manner of the woman had changed. She gave him a bis­cuit, and without even kneeling to hug him, she hurried back into the house. Who knows what the dog must have felt, but later, when she came out into the verandah, she noticed the biscuit lying untouched where the dog had stood. A flicker of a teardrop glistened momentarily in her eyes, but then resolutely she tore her gaze away from the biscuit, and went back into the house. Her shoulders however, were slightly hunched.

The next morning Faith did not open the door. The dog took his appointed place, and stood for a long time, all the while appear­ing to shrink into himself, before slowly (very slowly) crawling away like a beaten cur.

Here it may be said, a smile crossed the usually straight and tight lips of the woman in the window across the street, though we have no way of really telling why. And through a narrow split in the curtains, Faith watched him go through swollen eyelids.

The very next morning when the dog arrived, Faith was already at the gate. She ran to him and hugged him so hard that his bones creaked. She wept tears (of happiness or repentance one cannot say). And finally when she returned to the house, one could observe, if one had been there, the sudden radiance in the woman and the sudden royal bearing of the dog as he stalked away.

For some time everything continued as always.

And then the break in the ritual occurred again. The whole charade was enacted again, with all the immense sadness of separation and the incred­ible joy of union. But it could have been observed that, while the woman was strong enough to initiate the break, the dog was not. Back he came again and again and again.

If only one could see into the dog’s mind, one would be able to fathom the way he thought. One who has had experience with dogs may be quite sure that the dog could not understand what was happening. For dogs have simple minds, and their devotion never varies.

As to whether the dog felt hurt, and then too, how badly, is again a matter for conjecture. It can be thought that the dog did not feel very badly hurt because he always came back to the woman, possibly for the bis­cuit. But if one considers the gradual general decline of the dog, and the fact, that whenever he sensed an indifference in the woman, he left the biscuit untouched, one may construe the earli­er explanation to be incorrect.

But whatever the truth may be, the dogs devotion was total and complete despite his puzzlement, hurt, or sadness. With time the behavior of Faith became even more erratic, alter­nating between fits of delirious joy at meeting the dog, to tearful fits of cruelty aimed at driving the dog away. Her rea­sons for doing this she kept to herself.

But if one could have seen into her heart, one may have seen the excruciating pain arising from the fear of some impending disas­ter such as separation. It may be that paradoxically, instead of grappling the dog (who had come to symbolise all sorts of noble things to her) to her heart, she strove to lessen the shock of the actual event by driving him away before.

But this is in many ways a love story. And Dogs devotions never vary. Even unto death.

So it can not be expected that the dog would ever default in his sole aim of existence.

But that is what he did one day. He did not appear at his station that day. Nor the next. Or the next....



Epilogue :-

I was the woman. And I loved the dog with a passion that was spiritual in its intensity.

I could not adopt the dog because my family would have none of it. And I, valuing my fami­ly, yet torn apart by my longing for the innocent devotion of those brown eyes, sacrificed him, and myself.

For weeks and then for months after he stopped coming I found myself at the window every morning staring blankly at the spot where he used to sit. And then we moved away.

But his memory never faded.....

I would often think of what must have happened to him. Did he meet with an accident and die desolate and unattended?. Or did he sense my sorrow and stop coming to spare me more pain. But either way, I was wrong. My pain did not lessen.

One day, grown strong with the passage of years, the scoffs of my friends and family ringing in my ears, I traveled a thousand miles back to the lingering fra­grance of his love.
And planted a rose in his memory at the sacred spot.