Korchnoi is interviewed on chess and genii. ESL questions and bad punctuation/editing make it somewhat hard to read:
Genii and wunderkinds
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
"wakt ne kiyaa kyaa haseen sitam
tum rahe naa tum hum rahe naa hum"
[What poetic injustice time has commited
You are not yourself anymore, I am not myself anymore]
It is there. Wherever you are, whatever you are. Throbbing. Reminding you of something inexplicably, annoyingly important. Showing you the soreness and nakedness of invisible wounds. Demanding a pound of flesh. It is relentless, ostensibly insatiable.
"bekaraar dil is tarah mile
jis tarah kabhee, hum judaa na the
tum bhee kho gaye, hum bhee kho gaye
ek raah par chal ke do kadam"
[Restless hearts met in such a way
As if we never were separated
You are lost too, I am lost as well
On walking a few steps on a common path]
It reminds you sometimes, of the rivers that you have stepped in. It also reminds you, that you cannot step in those rivers again. Tells you where you come from. Demands to know where you are headed. It can be quietened, however, satiated. But its exacting demands are ever morphing. Surprising you, and yet, in ways you could have anticipated. But didn't.
"jaayenge kahaa, suzataa nahee
chal pade magar raasataa nahee
kyaa talaash hai, kuchh pataa nahee
bun rahe hain din khwaab dam-ba-dam"
[Where we are going, I can't comprehend
We have embarked, but there isn't a pathway
Questing for what, is not known
Gradually the days fade into dreams]
It subsides, and when it does you know why. It raises its hydra head again. And you know why again. The nature of the beast lends itself to cultivation. It follows rules, and laws. Some that you know, and some that you don't. It starts out like an excoriating grain of sand in the soft flesh of an oyster. It has the potential to transmute into an exquisite pearl, presumably through unwilling, undesigned, yet meticulous craftsmanship and application.
It ebbs out, but it will always rise one more time. The splinter in the mind.
tum rahe naa tum hum rahe naa hum"
[What poetic injustice time has commited
You are not yourself anymore, I am not myself anymore]
It is there. Wherever you are, whatever you are. Throbbing. Reminding you of something inexplicably, annoyingly important. Showing you the soreness and nakedness of invisible wounds. Demanding a pound of flesh. It is relentless, ostensibly insatiable.
"bekaraar dil is tarah mile
jis tarah kabhee, hum judaa na the
tum bhee kho gaye, hum bhee kho gaye
ek raah par chal ke do kadam"
[Restless hearts met in such a way
As if we never were separated
You are lost too, I am lost as well
On walking a few steps on a common path]
It reminds you sometimes, of the rivers that you have stepped in. It also reminds you, that you cannot step in those rivers again. Tells you where you come from. Demands to know where you are headed. It can be quietened, however, satiated. But its exacting demands are ever morphing. Surprising you, and yet, in ways you could have anticipated. But didn't.
"jaayenge kahaa, suzataa nahee
chal pade magar raasataa nahee
kyaa talaash hai, kuchh pataa nahee
bun rahe hain din khwaab dam-ba-dam"
[Where we are going, I can't comprehend
We have embarked, but there isn't a pathway
Questing for what, is not known
Gradually the days fade into dreams]
It subsides, and when it does you know why. It raises its hydra head again. And you know why again. The nature of the beast lends itself to cultivation. It follows rules, and laws. Some that you know, and some that you don't. It starts out like an excoriating grain of sand in the soft flesh of an oyster. It has the potential to transmute into an exquisite pearl, presumably through unwilling, undesigned, yet meticulous craftsmanship and application.
It ebbs out, but it will always rise one more time. The splinter in the mind.
Monday, October 30, 2006
His signature.
He paced regally, the zenith of the arch
Beautiful as a greek god, an artist's dream
Gazing at infinity, oblivious to the tourists' march
Magnificently quiet, sans whisper or scream
Clad in fine, dark leather, disdainful his stride
Animated his demeanor, exuding vitality and verve
His stare intense, furious like the tide
Life throbbing in his every sinewy nerve
Defiant his swagger, like a stallion's-untame
Repeatedly he reined his mane-uncontained
Mounting with easy grace, he crowned the scarlet frame
Supremely in balance, in a moment time-unstained
Like an acrobat's, mesmerising, his back-flip
Like a shooting star, or a missile misguided -
he plunged, vanishing into a statistical blip.
Cars blazed noisily past the bridge, so prided
He paced regally, the zenith of the arch
Beautiful as a greek god, an artist's dream
Gazing at infinity, oblivious to the tourists' march
Magnificently quiet, sans whisper or scream
Clad in fine, dark leather, disdainful his stride
Animated his demeanor, exuding vitality and verve
His stare intense, furious like the tide
Life throbbing in his every sinewy nerve
Defiant his swagger, like a stallion's-untame
Repeatedly he reined his mane-uncontained
Mounting with easy grace, he crowned the scarlet frame
Supremely in balance, in a moment time-unstained
Like an acrobat's, mesmerising, his back-flip
Like a shooting star, or a missile misguided -
he plunged, vanishing into a statistical blip.
Cars blazed noisily past the bridge, so prided
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
" Why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why, why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something, for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is, do you even know? Is it freedom or truth, perhaps peace - could it be for love? " - Agent Smith, 'The Matrix Revolutions'
My purgatory of the mundane
I bear the cross
of the middle path;
Sometimes I obsess
over the trees, and sometimes
the forest springs into relief,
for me
Have tipped my hat, to the good;
raised toasts to the devil
Drooled over form
and embraced substance
Have not drowned
nor floated - neutrally buoyant,
amidst unquiet waters
Having learned to hold dearly,
I never learned
to hold tightly enough
Longings rise from my heart,
without scraping its bottom.
I soar, but ducked under clouds
Icarus I am not, only
my wings are torched, seared like his.
Having torn down
inner constructs, eagerly,
am restrained
by walls without
I am king, and vagabond
in my imposed prison, fettered
by captive captors
Accursed,
forever denied me the simple joys
of the immoderate
My purgatory of the mundane
I bear the cross
of the middle path;
Sometimes I obsess
over the trees, and sometimes
the forest springs into relief,
for me
Have tipped my hat, to the good;
raised toasts to the devil
Drooled over form
and embraced substance
Have not drowned
nor floated - neutrally buoyant,
amidst unquiet waters
Having learned to hold dearly,
I never learned
to hold tightly enough
Longings rise from my heart,
without scraping its bottom.
I soar, but ducked under clouds
Icarus I am not, only
my wings are torched, seared like his.
Having torn down
inner constructs, eagerly,
am restrained
by walls without
I am king, and vagabond
in my imposed prison, fettered
by captive captors
Accursed,
forever denied me the simple joys
of the immoderate
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Diwali celebrations Oct 13, 2006 at Club Oracle (Second half)
If you wanna watch me dance some :)
Credits to my coworker Chinmaya Hegde for capturing the whole medley on video!
If you wanna watch me dance some :)
Credits to my coworker Chinmaya Hegde for capturing the whole medley on video!
Friday, October 13, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Check out some chess games played by interesting people:
Napolean vs. The Turk
Kasparov vs. Sting
Humphrey Bogart vs. NN
Einstein vs. Oppenheimer
Napolean vs. The Turk
Kasparov vs. Sting
Humphrey Bogart vs. NN
Einstein vs. Oppenheimer
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Ooh. Groovy! Check out this fight that apparently Nigel and Gata had while kibitzing on the 11th game of the championship match on playchess.com. Very intriguing.
"Nigel Short (Observers): Gata, in our 1994 match you delivered a written protest to the arbiter accusing me of visiting the bathroom too often. Was that done to disturb me, or because you thought I had a desktop hidden in the cubicle?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): ask me something i can remember nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): I remember it well, Gata.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): all i remember is that you started talking to me during the game
Nigel Short (Observers): Yes, and the arbiter had overheard a conversation between your father and yourself immediately after the game. He told you to complain. You said that there was nothing to complain about. And yet within the hour there was yet another written protest about me cheating during this match.
Nigel Short (Observers): I guess Daddy had his way
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i would be careful with making assumptions
Gata Kamsky (Observers): back then i didn't understood your dirty psychological tricks nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): I was also accused of "looking at Anand too much"
Nigel Short (Observers): and what a pity that the match organisers failed to erect a wall on the stage , like you insisted that they must
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel you had your chance against garry no?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so stop complaining
Nigel Short (Observers): I do remember the death threat from your father, delivered in an extremely irate manner about 2cm from my face.
Nigel Short (Observers): you won that match by dirty tricks, Gata. And you know it.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so talk to my father about it
Gata Kamsky (Observers): lol
Gata Kamsky (Observers): looks like a draw to me
Nigel Short (Observers): "Talk to my father"? Why not "talk to Danailov"? we can all benefit from hiding behind our henchmen
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nice try nigel
Gata Kamsky (Observers): trying to do others all work for you?
Susan Polgar (Observers): I think a $1 million match between Gata and Nigel is in order.
Nigel Short (Observers): they have relevance, Susan. It is the only time in my career I have accused of cheating. I was accused repeatedly. There are obvious similarities with the current match.
Nigel Short (Observers): the only thing that Danailov has not done is to physically threaten Kramnik with death
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i have no idea what you're trying to drag me and my dad back into nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): No doubt you would prefer to remember the result, rather than the manner in which it was attained, Gata.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): you mean your little dirty tricks ?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): we can go all day, you have your opinion and i have mine. So let's leave it at that
Nigel Short (Observers): It is funny, how you are the only person to have observed that I am a cheat, Gata. Indeed the protests and accusations went on even when you were 3-0 up. I must have been the most inept cheat in history.
Jon Levitt (Observers): I missed this argument..it sounds personal
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i don't want to talk about it, but if you want to do something about this, we can settle this like real men, outside. I'll be waiting
Jon Levitt (Observers): a duel?
Nigel Short (Observers): Yes. That is exactly how your Dad wanted to settle it too.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): it is YOUR problem
Gata Kamsky (Observers): but your insinuations are insulting me
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so put up or shut up
Nigel Short (Observers): Your comments reveal a complete abdication of responsibility. A player is 100%responsible for the actions of his delegation."
"Nigel Short (Observers): Gata, in our 1994 match you delivered a written protest to the arbiter accusing me of visiting the bathroom too often. Was that done to disturb me, or because you thought I had a desktop hidden in the cubicle?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): ask me something i can remember nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): I remember it well, Gata.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): all i remember is that you started talking to me during the game
Nigel Short (Observers): Yes, and the arbiter had overheard a conversation between your father and yourself immediately after the game. He told you to complain. You said that there was nothing to complain about. And yet within the hour there was yet another written protest about me cheating during this match.
Nigel Short (Observers): I guess Daddy had his way
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i would be careful with making assumptions
Gata Kamsky (Observers): back then i didn't understood your dirty psychological tricks nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): I was also accused of "looking at Anand too much"
Nigel Short (Observers): and what a pity that the match organisers failed to erect a wall on the stage , like you insisted that they must
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel you had your chance against garry no?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so stop complaining
Nigel Short (Observers): I do remember the death threat from your father, delivered in an extremely irate manner about 2cm from my face.
Nigel Short (Observers): you won that match by dirty tricks, Gata. And you know it.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so talk to my father about it
Gata Kamsky (Observers): lol
Gata Kamsky (Observers): looks like a draw to me
Nigel Short (Observers): "Talk to my father"? Why not "talk to Danailov"? we can all benefit from hiding behind our henchmen
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nice try nigel
Gata Kamsky (Observers): trying to do others all work for you?
Susan Polgar (Observers): I think a $1 million match between Gata and Nigel is in order.
Nigel Short (Observers): they have relevance, Susan. It is the only time in my career I have accused of cheating. I was accused repeatedly. There are obvious similarities with the current match.
Nigel Short (Observers): the only thing that Danailov has not done is to physically threaten Kramnik with death
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i have no idea what you're trying to drag me and my dad back into nigel
Nigel Short (Observers): No doubt you would prefer to remember the result, rather than the manner in which it was attained, Gata.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): you mean your little dirty tricks ?
Gata Kamsky (Observers): we can go all day, you have your opinion and i have mine. So let's leave it at that
Nigel Short (Observers): It is funny, how you are the only person to have observed that I am a cheat, Gata. Indeed the protests and accusations went on even when you were 3-0 up. I must have been the most inept cheat in history.
Jon Levitt (Observers): I missed this argument..it sounds personal
Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel
Gata Kamsky (Observers): i don't want to talk about it, but if you want to do something about this, we can settle this like real men, outside. I'll be waiting
Jon Levitt (Observers): a duel?
Nigel Short (Observers): Yes. That is exactly how your Dad wanted to settle it too.
Gata Kamsky (Observers): it is YOUR problem
Gata Kamsky (Observers): but your insinuations are insulting me
Gata Kamsky (Observers): so put up or shut up
Nigel Short (Observers): Your comments reveal a complete abdication of responsibility. A player is 100%responsible for the actions of his delegation."
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
A user posted this on www.chessgames.com:
"Monday 2nd of October 2006
Dear Vladimir,
Through absolutely no fault of your own, you have suffered the consequences of an unprecedented combination of unethical behaviour from your opponent and glaring incompetence, for lack of a stronger word, on the part of the Appeals Committee.
In spite of evidently unfair treatment, which has not only resulted in your being forfeited one game, but also being subjected to petty attacks and ridiculous accusations from the opposing camp, you have agreed to continue the match for the sake of reunifying the chess world. This is a very impressive decision. It testifies to your remarkable sense of honour and is worthy of your true status of World Champion.
Regardless of the final result of this match you have earned the deepest respect of your fellow Grandmasters and colleagues as well as countless chess fans around the world. Thank you for being a model sportsman in a time and place where so many circumstances turned against you. You deserve to win.
With unfailing support,
GM Joel Lautier (France)
IM Almira Skripchenko (France)
GM Viktor Korchnoi (Switzerland)
GM Laurent Fressinet (France)
GM Nigel Short (Greece)
GM Alexandra Kosteniuk (Russia)
GM Pavel Tregubov (Russia)
GM Pentala Harikrishna (India)
GM Yannick Pelletier (Switzerland)
WGM Sophie Milliet (France)
GM Lev Alburt (USA)
WIM Anna Hahn (USA)
GM Rustam Dautov (Germany)
GM Yasser Seirawan (USA)
GM Emanuel Berg (Sweden)
GM Helmut Pfleger (Germany)
WIM Olena Boytsun (Ukraine)
GM Vladimir Barksij (Russia)
GM Bartlomiej Macieja (Poland)
IM Maxim Notkin (Russia)
GM Alexander Baburin (Irland)
GM Tony Kosten (England)
GM Alexander Khalifman (Russia)
IM Ilias Kourkounakis (Greece)
WGM Natalia Zhukova (Ukraine)
GM Konstantin Landa (Russia)
GM Michal Krasenkow (Poland)
GM Boris Gelfand (Israel)
GM Alexander Huzman (Israel)
GM Harry Schüssler (Sweden)
GM Jon Levitt (England)"
It gladdens me to see this rallying of top players to offer support to Kramnik, and their unequivocal position in this matter. There is still hope for chess, after all.
"Monday 2nd of October 2006
Dear Vladimir,
Through absolutely no fault of your own, you have suffered the consequences of an unprecedented combination of unethical behaviour from your opponent and glaring incompetence, for lack of a stronger word, on the part of the Appeals Committee.
In spite of evidently unfair treatment, which has not only resulted in your being forfeited one game, but also being subjected to petty attacks and ridiculous accusations from the opposing camp, you have agreed to continue the match for the sake of reunifying the chess world. This is a very impressive decision. It testifies to your remarkable sense of honour and is worthy of your true status of World Champion.
Regardless of the final result of this match you have earned the deepest respect of your fellow Grandmasters and colleagues as well as countless chess fans around the world. Thank you for being a model sportsman in a time and place where so many circumstances turned against you. You deserve to win.
With unfailing support,
GM Joel Lautier (France)
IM Almira Skripchenko (France)
GM Viktor Korchnoi (Switzerland)
GM Laurent Fressinet (France)
GM Nigel Short (Greece)
GM Alexandra Kosteniuk (Russia)
GM Pavel Tregubov (Russia)
GM Pentala Harikrishna (India)
GM Yannick Pelletier (Switzerland)
WGM Sophie Milliet (France)
GM Lev Alburt (USA)
WIM Anna Hahn (USA)
GM Rustam Dautov (Germany)
GM Yasser Seirawan (USA)
GM Emanuel Berg (Sweden)
GM Helmut Pfleger (Germany)
WIM Olena Boytsun (Ukraine)
GM Vladimir Barksij (Russia)
GM Bartlomiej Macieja (Poland)
IM Maxim Notkin (Russia)
GM Alexander Baburin (Irland)
GM Tony Kosten (England)
GM Alexander Khalifman (Russia)
IM Ilias Kourkounakis (Greece)
WGM Natalia Zhukova (Ukraine)
GM Konstantin Landa (Russia)
GM Michal Krasenkow (Poland)
GM Boris Gelfand (Israel)
GM Alexander Huzman (Israel)
GM Harry Schüssler (Sweden)
GM Jon Levitt (England)"
It gladdens me to see this rallying of top players to offer support to Kramnik, and their unequivocal position in this matter. There is still hope for chess, after all.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Caissa defiled.
This one is for the billions and billions of those who read my blog and happen to be chess fans as well.
Today is a(nother) sad day in chess history, with a high-priest and master practitioner of the fine art stooping to base shenanigans upon finding himself trailing in the championship match in Elista, Kalmykia. The ugly details may be found here: http://www.worldchess2006.com/main.asp.
Turbid events no doubt will unfold in the hours and days to come. News media will have a field day wallowing in scatological situational comedy. Negotiations will be attempted to resolve the incredible deadlock. Some things may be fixed, and others will be irreparably damaged. However, as things stand, only one of the two contenders has demonstrated the dignity and moral fibre befitting a champion. Today I grieve for Caissa.
"Do nothing unless you must, and when you must act -- hesitate." (Isaac Asimov, Foundation's Edge)
This one is for the billions and billions of those who read my blog and happen to be chess fans as well.
Today is a(nother) sad day in chess history, with a high-priest and master practitioner of the fine art stooping to base shenanigans upon finding himself trailing in the championship match in Elista, Kalmykia. The ugly details may be found here: http://www.worldchess2006.com/main.asp.
Turbid events no doubt will unfold in the hours and days to come. News media will have a field day wallowing in scatological situational comedy. Negotiations will be attempted to resolve the incredible deadlock. Some things may be fixed, and others will be irreparably damaged. However, as things stand, only one of the two contenders has demonstrated the dignity and moral fibre befitting a champion. Today I grieve for Caissa.
"Do nothing unless you must, and when you must act -- hesitate." (Isaac Asimov, Foundation's Edge)
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
"Ekla Chalo Re" (Walk alone) is one of the best known songs of Tagore. I don't speak Bengali, but luckily for me Tagore himself translated it to English.
"Jodi Tor Dak Soone Keu Na Asse
Tobe Ekla Chalo re
Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalore
Jodi Keu Katha Na Kai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Sabai Thake Mukh Firae Sabai Kare Bhay
Tabe Paran Khule
O Tui Mukh Fute Tor Maner Katha Ekla Balo re
Jodi Sabai Fire Jai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Gahan Pathe Jabar Kale Keu Feere Na Chay
Tobe Pather Kanta
O Tui Rakta Makha Charan Tale Ekla Dalo re
Jodi Alo Na Dhare Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Jharr Badale Andhar Rate Duar Deay Ghare
Tobe Bajranale
Apaan Buker Panjar Jaliey Nieye Ekla Jalo re"
"If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou of evil luck,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou of evil luck,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou of evil luck,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone."
The audio may be found here:
http://www.calcuttaweb.com/gaan/rabindra/index.shtml
Far from being an inspired choice at a moment of reckoning, solitude is the only option for figurative forays into recesses of inner space. This existential actuality is neither epiphanic nor unremarkable. Neither reassuring nor unnerving. Or perhaps it is both. Perhaps it depends on what day of the week it is. Or on whether Schrödinger's cat is alive or dead.
And here is the first paragraph of Makhanlal Chaturvedi's "Pushp ki Abhilasha" (A flower's wish)
"Chah nahin main surbala ke
gahano mein gootha jaun
Chah nahin premi mala mein bindh
pyari ko lalchaun
Chah nahin samraton ke shav par
he hari dala jaun
Chah nahin devon ke sir par chadhun
bhagya par ithlaun"
"It's not my wish to be woven into the maiden’s necklace
Or be part of the lover’s garland
It's not my wish to be the wreathe for dead kings
Or the crown of deities grand"
(Translation's not mine)
The next paragraph is about what indeed is the flower's wish. However, I find what its wish isn't to be of more riveting interest.
"Jodi Tor Dak Soone Keu Na Asse
Tobe Ekla Chalo re
Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalore
Jodi Keu Katha Na Kai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Sabai Thake Mukh Firae Sabai Kare Bhay
Tabe Paran Khule
O Tui Mukh Fute Tor Maner Katha Ekla Balo re
Jodi Sabai Fire Jai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Gahan Pathe Jabar Kale Keu Feere Na Chay
Tobe Pather Kanta
O Tui Rakta Makha Charan Tale Ekla Dalo re
Jodi Alo Na Dhare Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Jharr Badale Andhar Rate Duar Deay Ghare
Tobe Bajranale
Apaan Buker Panjar Jaliey Nieye Ekla Jalo re"
"If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou of evil luck,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou of evil luck,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou of evil luck,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone."
The audio may be found here:
http://www.calcuttaweb.com/gaan/rabindra/index.shtml
Far from being an inspired choice at a moment of reckoning, solitude is the only option for figurative forays into recesses of inner space. This existential actuality is neither epiphanic nor unremarkable. Neither reassuring nor unnerving. Or perhaps it is both. Perhaps it depends on what day of the week it is. Or on whether Schrödinger's cat is alive or dead.
And here is the first paragraph of Makhanlal Chaturvedi's "Pushp ki Abhilasha" (A flower's wish)
"Chah nahin main surbala ke
gahano mein gootha jaun
Chah nahin premi mala mein bindh
pyari ko lalchaun
Chah nahin samraton ke shav par
he hari dala jaun
Chah nahin devon ke sir par chadhun
bhagya par ithlaun"
"It's not my wish to be woven into the maiden’s necklace
Or be part of the lover’s garland
It's not my wish to be the wreathe for dead kings
Or the crown of deities grand"
(Translation's not mine)
The next paragraph is about what indeed is the flower's wish. However, I find what its wish isn't to be of more riveting interest.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I recently came across this wonderful song of the mystic poet Kabir:
Na Mein Dharmi Na Hi Adharmi
Na Mein Jati Na Kaami Ho
Na Mein Kehta Na Mein Sunta
Na Mein Sevak Swami Ho
Na Mein Bandha Na Mein Mukta
Na Mein Virat Na Rangi Ho
Na Mein Kahu Se Nyara Hua
Na Kahu Ke Sangi Ho
Na Hum Narak Lok Ko Jaate
Na Hum Swarag Sidhare Ho
Sab Hi Karam Hamara Kiya
Hum Karman Se Nyare Ho
Ya Mat Ko Koi Birla Bujhe
So Atal Ho Baitha Ho
Mat Kabir Kaho Ko Thape
Mat Kahu Ko Mete Ho
[Neither am I righteous nor unrighteous
Neither am I ascetic nor lascivious
Neither do I tell nor do I listen
I am neither servant nor master
I am neither bound nor free
I am neither downcast nor joyous
Neither am I separated from anything
Nor am I united with anything
Neither do I go to hell
Nor am I headed for heaven
Everyone's actions are my doing
I am detached from action
This maxim only the exceptional one knows
Who is of unshakable conviction
Kabir does not create anything
Nor does Kabir efface anything]
Na Mein Dharmi Na Hi Adharmi
Na Mein Jati Na Kaami Ho
Na Mein Kehta Na Mein Sunta
Na Mein Sevak Swami Ho
Na Mein Bandha Na Mein Mukta
Na Mein Virat Na Rangi Ho
Na Mein Kahu Se Nyara Hua
Na Kahu Ke Sangi Ho
Na Hum Narak Lok Ko Jaate
Na Hum Swarag Sidhare Ho
Sab Hi Karam Hamara Kiya
Hum Karman Se Nyare Ho
Ya Mat Ko Koi Birla Bujhe
So Atal Ho Baitha Ho
Mat Kabir Kaho Ko Thape
Mat Kahu Ko Mete Ho
[Neither am I righteous nor unrighteous
Neither am I ascetic nor lascivious
Neither do I tell nor do I listen
I am neither servant nor master
I am neither bound nor free
I am neither downcast nor joyous
Neither am I separated from anything
Nor am I united with anything
Neither do I go to hell
Nor am I headed for heaven
Everyone's actions are my doing
I am detached from action
This maxim only the exceptional one knows
Who is of unshakable conviction
Kabir does not create anything
Nor does Kabir efface anything]
Monday, August 28, 2006
A shot in the dark.
Wonder if there is anyone out there to hear this virtual tree falling.
But I hear there is a time for everything.
"A time to give birth, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to tear down, and a time to build up. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to throw stones, and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, and a time to shun embracing. A time to search, and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep, and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart, and a time to sew together; A time to be silent, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate; A time for war, and a time for peace." (Ecclesiastes 3:1–8)
Now seems the time to blog.
On my handle. I permit myself here to interpret Saahir Ludhiyanvi's words for the (Hindi) movie Kabhi Kabhi, and provide my own context to them.
The unawoken poet sings:
"mai pal do pal kaa shaayar hoo, pal do pal meree kahaanee hain
pal do pal meree hastee hai, pal do pal meree jawaanee hain
muz se pahale kitane shaayar, aaye aaur aakar chale gaye
kuchh aahe bhar kar laut gaye, kuchh nagmei gaa kar chale gaye
wo bhee ek pal kaa kissaa the, main bhee ek pal kaa kissaa hoo
kal tum se judaa ho jaaoongaa, wo aaj tumhaaraa hissaa hoo
kal aaur aayenge, nagmon kee khilatee kaliyaa chunanewaale
muz se behatar kahanewaale, tum se behatar sunanewaale
kal koee muz ko yaad kare, kyo koee muz ko yaad kare
masaruf jamaanaa mere liye, kyo wakt apanaa barabaad kare"
[I'm a poet of a moment or two, my tale tells for a moment or two
My existence spans a moment or two, my youth is a moment or two
Before me several poets have come and gone
Some sighed sighs and departed, some sang ballads and left
Their's was the story of a moment, mine is the story of a moment
Tomorrow I'll be separated from you, but today I'm part of you
Tomorrow there'll appear more, pickers of blossoming flowers of songs
That say it better than me, that listen better than you
Tomorrow some might remember me; why should anyone remember me?
The absorbed world, why should it squander it's time for me?]
On awakening, the poet sings:
"Maein Har Ek Pal Ka Shaayar Hoon, Har Ek Pal Meri Kahani Hai
Har Ek Pal Meri Hasti Hai, Har Ek Pal Meri Jawaani Hai
Rishton Ka Roop Badalta Hai, Buniyaden Khatam Nahin Hoti
Khwabon Ki Aur Umango Ki, Miyaden Khatam Nahin Hoti
Ek Phool Mein Tera Roop Basa Ek Phool Mein Meri Jawaani Hai
Ek Chehra Teri Nishaani Hai, Ek Chehra Meri Nishaani Hai
Tujhko Mujhko Jeevan Amrit, Ab In Haathon Se Peena Hai
Inki Dhadkan Mein Basna Hai, Inki Saanson Mein Jeena Hai
Tu Apni Adaen Baksh Inhen Maein Apni Wafaen Deta Hoon
Jo Apne Liye Sochi Thi Kabhi, Woh Saari Duaen Deta Hoon"
[I'm the poet of every moment, My tale is of every moment
I exist in every moment, every moment is my youth
Forms of relationships change, their foundations remain intact
Dreams and aspirations, their durations do not expire
Your beauty lives on in one flower, my youth in another
One face bears your features, and another mine
You and I have to drink the elixir of life now with these hands
Make a home in their heartbeats, live in their breaths
You grant them your charms, I give them my fidelities
What I had once wished for myself, (I) give them all those blessings.]
I am no poet, and of unawoken poets I stake no claim to the noun.
Wonder if there is anyone out there to hear this virtual tree falling.
But I hear there is a time for everything.
"A time to give birth, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to tear down, and a time to build up. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to throw stones, and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, and a time to shun embracing. A time to search, and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep, and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart, and a time to sew together; A time to be silent, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate; A time for war, and a time for peace." (Ecclesiastes 3:1–8)
Now seems the time to blog.
On my handle. I permit myself here to interpret Saahir Ludhiyanvi's words for the (Hindi) movie Kabhi Kabhi, and provide my own context to them.
The unawoken poet sings:
"mai pal do pal kaa shaayar hoo, pal do pal meree kahaanee hain
pal do pal meree hastee hai, pal do pal meree jawaanee hain
muz se pahale kitane shaayar, aaye aaur aakar chale gaye
kuchh aahe bhar kar laut gaye, kuchh nagmei gaa kar chale gaye
wo bhee ek pal kaa kissaa the, main bhee ek pal kaa kissaa hoo
kal tum se judaa ho jaaoongaa, wo aaj tumhaaraa hissaa hoo
kal aaur aayenge, nagmon kee khilatee kaliyaa chunanewaale
muz se behatar kahanewaale, tum se behatar sunanewaale
kal koee muz ko yaad kare, kyo koee muz ko yaad kare
masaruf jamaanaa mere liye, kyo wakt apanaa barabaad kare"
[I'm a poet of a moment or two, my tale tells for a moment or two
My existence spans a moment or two, my youth is a moment or two
Before me several poets have come and gone
Some sighed sighs and departed, some sang ballads and left
Their's was the story of a moment, mine is the story of a moment
Tomorrow I'll be separated from you, but today I'm part of you
Tomorrow there'll appear more, pickers of blossoming flowers of songs
That say it better than me, that listen better than you
Tomorrow some might remember me; why should anyone remember me?
The absorbed world, why should it squander it's time for me?]
On awakening, the poet sings:
"Maein Har Ek Pal Ka Shaayar Hoon, Har Ek Pal Meri Kahani Hai
Har Ek Pal Meri Hasti Hai, Har Ek Pal Meri Jawaani Hai
Rishton Ka Roop Badalta Hai, Buniyaden Khatam Nahin Hoti
Khwabon Ki Aur Umango Ki, Miyaden Khatam Nahin Hoti
Ek Phool Mein Tera Roop Basa Ek Phool Mein Meri Jawaani Hai
Ek Chehra Teri Nishaani Hai, Ek Chehra Meri Nishaani Hai
Tujhko Mujhko Jeevan Amrit, Ab In Haathon Se Peena Hai
Inki Dhadkan Mein Basna Hai, Inki Saanson Mein Jeena Hai
Tu Apni Adaen Baksh Inhen Maein Apni Wafaen Deta Hoon
Jo Apne Liye Sochi Thi Kabhi, Woh Saari Duaen Deta Hoon"
[I'm the poet of every moment, My tale is of every moment
I exist in every moment, every moment is my youth
Forms of relationships change, their foundations remain intact
Dreams and aspirations, their durations do not expire
Your beauty lives on in one flower, my youth in another
One face bears your features, and another mine
You and I have to drink the elixir of life now with these hands
Make a home in their heartbeats, live in their breaths
You grant them your charms, I give them my fidelities
What I had once wished for myself, (I) give them all those blessings.]
I am no poet, and of unawoken poets I stake no claim to the noun.
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