Landescapemoving

I was indulging myself yesterday, reading from a diary I kept
during my 1998 trip to India - I would take snapshots with my pen
rather than my camera -here is a little something that I wrote while
sitting on a train - another small piece I am dedicating to friends who
recently experienced for the first time the joys of parenthood - only
children (of whatever age) have the gift of stopping time in its tracks.


Landescapemoving
I sit looking out on to the landscape moving, the rich greens and waters rippling in the train's wake. I experience for a while a timeless contentment. Opposite, a small boy stands up from his train seat. His mother looks out onto the landscapemoving. He trails his fingers along the padded back of the seat, and pokes his mother's midriff bulging out between blouse and sari. She reacts, irritated, and scolds him with a glare. Chastised, he strives to win back her favour. He places his hand on her arm; she brushes it away and deepens his sense of rejection, by once more peering out onto landscapemoving. His face is hurting, and his eyes betray the fear of love lost. The scene is played out again, his seeking hand cast away brusqely, her eyes cast fixedly on landscapemoving.

And then she is there again, smiling into his face, and visibly, physically, the visceral hurt lifts from him, and he is all talk and animation, roused from the lethargy of his rejection. And she not only smiles, but she listens; how she listens, shaking her head from side to side in agreement; oh what a smile of adoration, of respect even, for his words, his gifts. She is stoking his arm. They are both animate - as one. The scene is bursting, it's everywhere, the flash of her nose ring, his swaying gently into his mother's folds, green sari and bangles. She listens, looking ahead of her, absorbing his words with all that she has, and nodding her head. And then when he pauses, she turns towards him, screws up her nose and bursts forward again in laughter. She smiles and laughs with him, at his words, at the world outside reflected through his eyes. She laughs as she would with no adult, for it is the joy of a child, timeless but for the present, that it is his gift to her. Their hands are clasped. She looks out again, and he turns over her hand, and traces his finger in her palm. And now silence, and theprofusion of motherson love is still tangible in their distant stares onto landscape moving.

It is the very nature of our imagination,
Whose conceit it is to transform the here and now
Into the more of what might be,
So that rather than be stilled to admire the meeting of earth and sky
It forever chases horizons

Timekeepers

The following alludes to the chemicals that serve as regulators of the body clock throughout the animal kingdom - and the current research on aging - how the genetic coding is being experimented with in order to prolong life.




Timekeepers

The many faced timekeepers, perched,
like sentinels keeping rhythm over their charge,
keep an omnipresent order over all that twists and turns obligingly
for their gratefull hosts.

They have kept watch throughout time,
these stern masters of their own destiny,
their clicks tock the serendepitous rhythms of life,
for that which mushrooms of the seafloor,
to those that embrace the skies in their flight

And we now, their minions,
probe the artistry of their ministrations,
but let us be forewarned lest we dislodge from their perch
that which orchestrates our constancy,
that which gave us time.

When young I saw the sweeping second hand,
sweeping within me, through me, and intuiting
in all that I saw with fresh and startled eyes,
at every turn, in every sharp intake of breath.

Two mountains

Written from a vantage point high on a trail through mountains:


Two mountains

In the district of lakes and peaks,
one mountain top spoke to another,
their words of rhyme and prose
carried on clouds that crowned their snow capped heads.
'How I weep for those times when once no clouds
Passed between our sky touched mouths'
spoke one, as the winter's first snows
winded down it's sides in glacial tears.
'There was a time when our faces pressed against each other
In an embrace I thought would last forever.
Now the earth has opened up a valley to separate us,
so that we can no longer touch.
And the other replied,
'True, we are now apart where once we were one.
But this separation is to be celebrated,
and not to be mourned.
This valley across which we gaze,
through the reflected snows of winter,
the pine greens of summer,
the dancing blossom of spring
and the fickle browns of autumn.
This valley is a thing of beauty,
bejewelled as it is by a diamond lake.
What greater joy might shiver through my slopes, then to see your reflection in it's crystal waters.'

There's an elephant in the pub

A: It's all about perception ain't it

M: Yeah, yeah, I mean, see this table, ?, it could actually, in reality, be anything

A: What do you mean anything

M: Well, it could for example, I don't know, I mean it could be, say, an elephant

A: ''Don't be stupid, it's a table, you can see it's a table"

M: Ah, but you see, that's the point. These philosophers today are telling us that it doesn't make sense for us to describe the world out there, by itself, independently of us seeing it. No, the world is filtered by our perception of it, and these physicists are even telling us that the act of us seeing, itself changes the character of the world.

A: So you mean that the act of me seeing changes the elephant into a table? Come on man, what are you on?

M: No, no, you don't get it. I'm not saying it is an elephant, but if I wanted to give a description of what's here, without involving me in the act of seeing it, well, it could in theory be anything; it COULD be an elephant. I mean, sure, a bloody small elephant. I mean we could be resting our elbows on the back of a baby pigmy elephant.

A: Yeah, but then how would it survive, standing here so long; what about food?

M: Ah, well, look, don't get carried away with the elephant thing, I mean I'm just trying to illustrate a principle here. Although, well look, ok, look, I'm not saying ? Ok, here, this stool, there is no reason in principle why this stool couldn't be a pail of food, and the baby pigmy can drop his trunk into the pail for feeding, I mean, in PRINCIPLE, there's no reason.

A: Yeah, and I suppose the barman in principle could be the gamekeeper, filling the bucket with food.

M: Ok, well yes, in reality, in a world that exists independently of us seeing it, yes, in principle, why not.

A: What about the other animals?

M: Well, I mean, look forget about the animals, just, well can?t you at least see the principle.

A: Yeah, and I'm just taking the principle and going with it. I mean the couches over there could be rhinos. The bar could be a toilet. The drink dispenser things, you know, what are they called, those, um, those pumps Pete pumps the beer into glasses with. Well Pete could be, in reality, helping constipated ferrets to relieve themselves. I mean, we could be, in reality, drinking ferrets' piss. In fact mate, everything we see in this pub could in reality be something else. Except you and me of course.

M: Well, actually, you could be something different. Although, as far as 'I' am concerned, 'I' know what 'I' am saying.

A: Of course you know; who else is gonna know. I haven't got a fucking clue. But you, you know, in fact you know too much. That can't be good for you. When I was at MacDonalds this afternoon. Man, it's been such a long time since I've had a burger. You know I was vegetarian once, right? Yeah, till fifteen

M: For fuck sake?

A: No hang on, the boards were plastered with menus, special mini maxi burger meals, mexican frajitas, mini mex max burgers, I mean , it doesn't fucking stop. It's like you're being bombarded by info. Till you can?t take it anymore, and I just wanted to get on my knees and say stop. Remember, I haven't been in MacDonalds for years. It was a shock. Gorgeous girl in there though. Uniform really suited her. I aksed her advice on what to get. Didn't take it too well though. Anyway, yeah, look, I know you know what you're saying. But that's just a turn of phrase.Uncle Jagpal says it all the time. He said it the other day. He was sitting on the lifebuoy ?
M: Yeah, how is he, how's his, you know..

A: Yeah fine, .., anyway, he was sitting on the lifebouy, lecturing us on the best way to make biriyani. And then he says, like he's some world expert, "I know what I?m saying".

M: Poor bastard, what was he eating?

A: Bread and jam

M: That's fucking ridiculous

A: Look, come on, he's got his reasons; if he can't eat chilli,then he's not gonna eat Indian food. Full stop. Reminds him of what he's missing. Supposing your misses told you that you could have sex, but you can't complete to orgasm. You might think that having no sex at all would be better than the cake without the icing.

M: Poor bastard, I'd hate to have fully blown piles.

A: Yeah, poor bastard. Just glad he?s got that lifebouy to sit on. Doesn't have to put pressure on the piles does he

M: Poor bastard

A: And he's so short, his legs don?t reach the ground, so he keeps slipping through the lifebouy. Starts screaming as soon as his arse hits the deck.

M: Sanjay's idea was billliant though.

A: Oh you know about that?

M: Yeah, Sanjay told me himself. Said how he ties uncle's ankles to the bottoms of the table legs, tense like, like those suspension ropes holding up bridges. Keeps him suspended out of the lifebouy

A: Well, anyway, so Uncleji's always lecturing on the best way to cook this and that and this, bla, bla, bla,? And then he always says, "And I know what I?m saying". Well, he hasn?t got a clue has he. His head is so far up his own arse.

M: Well, actually, if his head was up his arse he'd have a better perspective on things. For a start he'd come face to face with the results of overdoing the chilli in everyting he cooks.

A: Yeah, I suppose, in reality, in the world out there, he could actually have his head stuck up his arse.

M: Yeah, and that's the point. We could all have our heads stuck up our arses; the world we experience could be an illusion. Some demon could be feeding our brains with inputs to delude us into thinking that we live in this world that we experience - like in the Matrix. Uncleji could have it stuck up there too, or anywhere, but it would be HIS head everytime.

A: Yeah, that wouldn't change would it. He could be absolutely certain of that at least, that He would be he, his perception would be HIS perception.

M: Exactly mate, Descartes, "I think therefore I am, cogito ergo sum"

A: Yeah, huh, fucking latin

M: Latin, what's wrong with Latin you phillisitine

A: But look, back to the pub yeah. I was thinking, if everything in reality could be different to what we see, then how come you see everything the way I see it. I mean, we might see things in totally different ways.

M: Yeah, but we don't, or at least we don't know that we don't, but we use the same words to describe everything. So you call this thing a table, so do I. And that?s all. I mean what you actually see could be something very different to what I'm seeing. But we both call it a table. I mean we could use another word, like elephant, but as long as we both use the same word. I mean it would be a total mind fuck, if you called it an elephant, and I called it a table. Look, suppose the word to decribe a mate was baanchod, then, baanchod would be a word to describe a mate, and mate could be a word to describe a sisterfucker. So you might go up to some bloke that's been screwing your sister, and say, "Oi, you, you're a mate, you know that". And he'd be pissed of.

A: Unless of course his word for mate was mate. In which case he'd think I'm being bloody understanding calling him a mate. Fuck it, I wouldn't bother with words, I?d just lamp him one, and then try and knock of his sister.

M: Yeah well, anyway, so you could call this guy whose fucking your sister, a mate. And yet you could address me as "you alright baanchod", and I?d know it was my baanchod, beginning a friendly exchange, baanchod to baanchod. I mean you wouldn't be accusing me of knocking of your sister. Not that I would say no of course

A: Watch it mate

M: Come on baanchod, lighten up a little, I'm only kidding.

To friends and new parents

Here's a little something I wrote for friends who have recently
become fathers and mothers, and friends who are about to become
parents:



Life
Ovaries, bud like,
flower with Eve's seed
In the whimsical ways of fluid rivers,
where should chance dance benevolently,
a consort of Adam, spiral tailed,
vies with success for her monthly fruits of passion

Moral Viagra

Our moral character is engaged in a daily struggle; to remain errect and steadfast in the face of temptation, distraction, the seductions of power, sex and certainty. When engaged in the struggle it's rigidity all too often sucumbs. Flaccid and limp, I look within to seek the source of that which imbues my moral strivings with meaning, purpose and conviction. As for others, they look without, to the quick fix of moral viagra, to religion.