Thoughts and other trivia...

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Patients of Courage

“You must have noticed that I don’t have mirrors in the house,” she said and smiled. “So, I only see my ugliness in other people’s eyes.”

Monday, September 07, 2015

Don't fall ill on a Sunday

The feet feel like they’re on fire. When stretched as far as they’ll go, the weary, aching legs find temporary respite. Arms are limp and the lifeless hands are barely able to form a firm fist. The back hurts and the head throbs. But, it’s on your breath and on the eyelids that you sense the raging fever the most. Sleep doesn’t come easily and, so, you toss and turn, hoping to find a comfortable position that may help it on its way. But, comfort usually comes from stillness of body and/or mind, neither of which seem easy to find when you’re burning up. Strange images and thoughts and ideas flood your head as you float in and out of the mildly delirious state…

Saturday, May 24, 2014

At me too someone is looking

Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today... Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on."

Thursday, August 01, 2013

This Sleeping Beauty

It’s a strange beast this, the collective conscience of our nation.

When not cosying up to Hypocrisy, or in bed with Indifference, it sleeps, undisturbed and sonorously, through the deaths of little children, who’re killed by pesticides in their mid-day meals in their schools. It sleeps while a Christian priest and his two little children are burnt alive in their car by religious fanatics. It sleeps while victims of obviously violent crimes lie unattended by the side of the road, unclothed and stripped of their dignity. It sleeps while brides are burned in homes and little children are sexually abused. It sleeps while young girls are bought and sold. It sleeps as farmers across the country commit suicide because they have debts they cannot dream of paying back. It sleeps while young men and women are killed for marrying outside their castes, communities and religions. It sleeps when right-wing thugs go after people for daring to move to big cities for better prospects. It sleeps while slums are bulldozed and ugly residential/commercial buildings are erected in their stead. It sleeps while children from underprivileged backgrounds are cannibalised.  It sleeps through the millions upon millions that are signed away to the obscenely wealthy by way corporate incentives in yearly budgets Yeah, pretty much like a friend I have, who once slept through an earth-shaking gas cylinder explosion next door, it sleeps through a lot,.  

Occasionally, however, it stirs in consternation and wakes up when annoying little mosquito-like things, for instance the Food Bill, buzz noisily in its ears. Or, for instance, when it’s time to light a candle at a fancy protest march for, or to express solidarity with, Someone Like Us, who’s been wronged. It’s a curious beast this one because, sometimes, we don’t even realise it’s up until a learned judge from our wondrous system of justice swings by to tell us that it’s been pricked and, therefore, wide awake! And, then, like anyone woken rudely from deep sleep, it tends to get nasty and demands to be fed until it’s sated. Who can forget the time when a man had to be sentenced to death by hanging just to keep the hungry beast on leash? If you don’t remember that time, not to worry because, hey, the beast seems to have been pricked awake again!  And, again, another Muslim man, an alleged terrorist in a case that has more holes in it than there are seats in Albert Hall (er, sorry, Paul, John, Geroge and Ringo), must be sentenced to a life in jail to satisfy it! 

But, all said and done, I really envy this collective conscience of the nation thingy. Wish I could sleep half as much because, god knows, I’m so bloody sleep deprived.

Thursday, June 13, 2013


Free. Finally effing free!

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Kindness of Strangers

If you’re a Tennessee Williams fan,  or if you watch a lot of films, you’ll be familiar with ‘the kindness of strangers’. There’s also a film based on the play the phrase features in

Last night, I was watching, again, Pedro Almodóvar’s absolutely wonderful Todo Sobre mi Madre (All About My Mother), in which the Tennessee Williams play is a recurring theme and Huma Rojo, the character who plays Blanche DuBois in the play within the film, an integral character. I have always depended on the kindness of strangers, she says. There’s a certain sadness about this line and I’ve always found it strangely moving. It suggests a sense of desolation that survives on the thin slivers of hope it finds in unlikely places and which serve to, somehow, hold it together. 

An Australian friend often says that ahimsa (non-violence) is the greatest word coined in any human language. For me, it’s kindness. A friend insists that I’m a sucker for it. If someone were kind enough, they could rob me blind, she said recently when she stayed over for a couple of days. Nothing to be proud of, I know, but I really believe it’s something the world doesn’t have nearly enough of. Among all the people I’ve known well, I've thought of a handful as being truly kind. But, the strange thing is, as one FB friend once said, some people show the greatest empathy for complete strangers, not to mention characters in books and films, but they're not nearly as understanding when it comes to friends and others close to them. These are otherwise really nice and kind people but I’ve also seen them being downright mean, judgemental and, sometimes, even plain nasty. And, this often makes me wonder: have these people really been what I thought they were or was it just my need to see them as that?