Tuesday, May 31, 2005

A Painting for Posterity

This is a Hello from Deepak

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.

Monday, May 30, 2005

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

This is a Hello from Deepak

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

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."

Thursday, May 19, 2005

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

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Saturday, May 14, 2005

TEMPEST OVER THE COLD LAND BY DEEPAK MENON

This is a Hello from Deepak

Saturday, May 07, 2005

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.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Tamam Shudh - Poems of Passion by Deepak Menon
Published by Minerva Press, New Delhi, India

Quatrain No 166.
Authors interpretation when he wrote it

First Line:- The Rose of Autumn is but a vanishing dream
Interpretation: - The Rose of Autumn signifies the hidden love which we have in our lives which is kept securely in our hearts and never revealed to the world through eternity. The vanishing dream signifies our life of which the Rose of Autumn is an integral part.

Second Line:- Blurred by the falling leaves, once so green.
Interpretation: - Falling leaves signify the passing years which were once to full of the wonder of love. Blurred signifies how memories grow dim with the passing years and events can not be recollected instant to instant and they get shrouded in a mist till they are obscured in a dense fog of forgetfulness

Third Line:- But unlike the leaves which dying, turn to gold
Interpretation: - But unlike the other memories of the years of the past which remain golden and never to be forgotten and are narrated about to the entire world by us

Fourth Line:- The destiny of the Autumn Rose is to fade away - unseen.
Interpretation: - The memories of the hidden love are only bright to our being and unnoticed or recorded by the world at large – the memories fade away into the nothingness of eternity when we pass into eternity

Deepak