The poet-priest Kabir says, the first thing in the morning, do not rush off to the work. But take down your musical instrument and play it. Then test your work in the same way. If there is no music in it, set it aside, and go find what has music in it, for you to play it again.
You will certainly know better things and worse things than those you already know, but that does not matter. What matters most is change, movement, dynamism, energy.
Only what is dead does not change – and you are alive.
Your place is not only on the map but also in the heart Freedom and power brings responsibility. That responsibility rests upon each one of us. Before the birth of freedom we endured all the pain of labour, even divided with heavy hearts; that echoing memory of division. Some of those pains continue even now. Nevertheless the past is over and it is the future that must be directed. The future is not one of ease or resting but of incessant striving so that we might fulfil the pledges we have so often taken and the one we shall take today, one more time. The service of India, of Bharat means the service of the millions who suffer. It means not only ending poverty but ignorance, unawareness, diseases and above all, inequality of opportunities, understanding the importance of this ancient land, this oldest active and growing civilization. And so we have to labour and to work and work hard to give reality to our dreams. Those dreams are for India, but they are also for …
Where are the lovers? The ones who roamed and flew kisses at each passing nightingale; that one who promised me the movies and photographs on the Valentines. I haven’t seen none and I don’t think one would come, instead i called him last night, in my sleep. His year began with a cold shower last valentines morning, of course it was February, of course it was cold. For many years he dismissed the day of love by saying saint valentines’s mother was a pagan and did not believe in Christ herself, rather was in love with a tree outside her home. So he, my boyfriend decided to love a tree that stood outside their home. You know trees have gender right! Also because his mother would rebel of even thinking about going outside, once she was walking on a street, and just when she reached at the centre of a four way crossing, she yelled out loud saying I detest this urban theatre, Every one is a clone of the other. Look a likes, inside …
The case of chasing sun a fat girl wedded to life singing the uhuru burn what will remain of this world continuity and creativity in uncle hassan’s sleep losing his spirits walking away from his favorite tree her signs his silence her future poetry a journey to the stone country on top of a bus with an x zorastree on a kiss less day Taiwan’s highway Terminal eating Imagining an Adivasi cinema Translated museums is bad hand writing freedom? Freedom from brain First the god will die and soon men. Love, like living is commerce and commerce is time and time in the case of the chasing sun that fat girl who wedded to life kept singing the uhuru burn
Draw a perfect circle. Use a compass or a plotter. Now, zoom in. If you zoom in close enough, you’ll discover that it’s not a perfect circle at all. In fact, anything we create, at close enough magnification, isn’t perfect. It’s foolish to wait until you’ve made something that’s perfect, because you never will. The alternative is to continue to move toward your imaginary ideal, shipping as you iterate. Getter better is the path to better.
ROAD TO NARA 