Skip to main content

Kahlil Gibran

I was reading Gibran's "Broken Wings" yesterday. After completing it, I was very tired. Something has been leeching away my spirit, my resistance to simple things in life. It used to be so easy to block things that I did not want to take care of. It was just a wonderful thing that I could do. Selma makes for a wonderful case. I guess it's Kahlil's first person account. The way he has described the stuff.
I might try to do the same, except that I cannot describe the "pauses". I am not able to get the length. I am probably a short story writer. Not the one with length. Anyhow, I felt not so nice yesterday and it is continuing even today. Someone went through "Love Paeans" and made a remark about it. Now I can see what it is to be a person with some sagacity. I had it then and now I have lost it again. I am so busy these days that I have no time for all this and yet, her memories ail me.
I am the one with the broken wings.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Raizada Heritage Fund and Trip to Woodlands

I have a confession to make. We don’t have a sofa at home. We seriously don’t.. Over the last two years, whenever Vartika has broached the touchy topic of a Sofa buy, I have ended up doing rants on how the money saved on not buying a Sofa would be able to feed us for a month, in case startup went bust. (And no, I was not counting on dumb UPA government allowing Sharad Pawar to make billions running amok on the vegetable and cereals market and looting us. In that case, count that sum to last for mere 15 days. That rant is for a separate day) Imagine a 30-40k sofa and me eating it, like the borers mostly do. Tough to imagine and sad to think of. So I return to the sofa tales. Vartika knew I had make her do with those mattresses. You know how dumb I am, relentlessly pointless. Unfortunately I ran into an Ariean, and that too my Mom. She looked at me and the mattresses and then again at me, and I went ballistic. From the sensibility of an accountant, to the eruditeness of an economist (De...

Can life teach?

It actually began, quite reluctantly. Unnecessary as it may seem, life teaches you what you allow it to teach. Even Life cannot teach you what it offers you. One has to let himself dissolve into the experience and let it sink in, and that I might call religion or education. Whatever the other person is willing to accept. Nay. Does it matter? Nay. Life is about teaching oneself. Being a self-thought-taught "person", picking up bits and pieces from various experiences, I tread on a path; I have myself laid out for myself. Never have I asked, in other words, begged for words, from "messiahs". Never did I think myself of having enough virtue, call it patience, to learn from others. So "rich" were my experiences. Things change, dynamically. Responding to an open question, throwing caution to the winds, I immersed myself into a debate, with people who thought, had streamlined their thinking apparatus and abilities. Gradually, they pestered; read "lee...

Time for Retrospection

Withered away, the burning heat of the day Evening silently soaked the heat within Wearing the diamonds came the night O’ Soul why are you silent, smile!! Three things have affected me lately. Hope, fear and death. Silently they walked past me in the night and left me awake. Gasping for breath, a parched throat and burning eyes. These days have been gloomy because days are heavy with tension. Work and nothing else. I need to relax and let the natural “me” take over. But it does not happen. Rather I cannot let that happen. Reading a lot these days has been a need. A need because I need to exist in an unreal world where I can be what I want to be. It would be difficult to be that in the real world. I even pretend to dream these days. Pretense has become my entire life. Every moment of my life is “pretending” to be me. I am doing it for the fact that people might not recognize the “real” me if I were to show them who I am. Living a life where everything is drive...