Pavan's Quest

Yes

2012-01-21T23:07:00.002+05:30

‎"What you feel in the presence of a thing you admire is just one word--'Yes.' The affirmation, the acceptance, the sign of admittance. And that 'Yes' is more than an answer to one thing, it's a kind of 'Amen' to life, to the earth that holds this thing, to the thought that created it, to yourself for being able to see it. But the ability to say 'Yes' or 'No' is the essence of all ownership. It's your ownership of your own ego. Your soul, if you wish. Your soul has a single basic function--the act of valuing. 'Yes' or 'No,' 'I wish' or 'I do not wish.' You can't say 'Yes' without saying 'I." There's no affirmation without the one who affirms. In this sense, everything to which you grant your love is yours."

(Yandamoori) Telugu Quotes!

2012-01-16T15:22:00.001+05:30

నడుస్తుంటే దూరంగా మసక మసక వెన్నెల్లో కుప్పలా శివాలయం. ఏటి ఒడ్డున నీటీ పువ్వులాంటి జీవితాన్ని స్వప్నం నుంచి వేరు చెస్తున్నట్టూ క్షితిజరేఖ. వెలుగురేఖల్ని వెదజల్లుతూ తూర్పు ముఖాన్ని ఎరుపుచేస్తున్న ఆకాశం. ఆ నీరవంలో జంటగా పాట పాడే భరద్వాజ పక్షులు మాష్టారూ! జీవితానికెంత అందమైన విలువుందో కదూ? ఒంటరి నక్షత్రాన్ని తోడూ తేసుకుని గుడికివెళ్తూంటే గుండెల్నిండా ఓంకారమే.
చెట్టునీ, పుట్టనీ ప్రేమించలగాలి. వర్షాన్ని, మంచునీ ప్రేమించగలగాలి. మేఘమొస్తుంటే సంతోషించాలి. పువ్వు పూస్తుంటే మైమరచిపోవాలి అదీ ప్రేమంటే. విశ్వాన్ని, ప్రకృతిని, సాటి మనిషినీ ప్రేమించేవాడి మనసు నుంచి ఆనందాన్నీ, పెదవి మీద నుంచి చిరునవ్వుని బ్రహ్మకూడా చెరపలేడు.
ఏ దూరదేశాల్లో నీవుంటావో నాకు తెలియదు నేస్తం! కానీ, ఏదో ఒకరోజు రాత్రి ఎప్పటికన్నా చంద్రుడు ఆరోజు మరింత ప్రకాశవంతంగా ఉన్నట్టు నీకనిపిస్తే... ఏ దూరదేశపు పాత స్నేహితురాలు నిన్ను తలుస్తున్నదనడానికి సంకేతంగా దాన్ని గ్రహించు... చాలు!
నేను ఫోన్ చేసినప్పుడు అతడు 'హల్లో' అని సంతోషంగా అన్నడనుకో ...చూసావా! నేను దగ్గరలేకపోయినా అతడు సంతోషంగా ఉన్నాడనే ఉక్రోషం! మామూలుగా 'హల్లో' అన్నాడనుకో, నా స్వరం విన్నాక కూడా అతడిలో సంతోషంలేదని బాధ! పోనీ అతడు బాధగా 'హల్లో' అన్నాడనుకో, ఇక ఇటునుంచి నేను ఏడ్చేస్తాను. అది పబ్లిక్ టెలిఫోన్ అయినా సరే..
నా ప్రేమ స్వచ్చమైనదైతే నీవెందుకు నాకు!నీ జ్ఞాపకం చాలు! నాతో ఉండాలనుకోవటం స్వార్థం. నాప్రేమ ఎప్పుడైతే ఈ స్వార్ధాన్ని అధిగమించిందో, అది నిన్ను దాటి జాతిని, కులాన్ని రాష్ట్రాన్ని, ప్రపంచాన్ని దాటి విశ్వవ్యాప్తమవుతుంది. అదే విశ్వజనీనమైన ప్రేమ.
ఊపిరిలోనికి వస్తున్నప్పుడు నువ్వు నాలోకి ప్రవేశిస్తున్న అనుభవమై హృదయం పొంగుతుంది. శ్వాస బయటికొస్తుంటే నువ్వు వెళ్ళిపోతున్నావన్న బాధతో కడుపుతరుక్కుపోతుంది. ఈ ఉచ్చ్వాస నిశ్వాసల్లో కూడా నీవే నిండి ఉన్నావన్న ఆనందంతో గుండె నిండుతోంది.
నా కలలకి కథావస్తువా! నీకెలా చెప్పను? నీ ముంగురుల కదలికలో నాకు ప్రపంచం కనబడుతుందని, నీ కనురెప్పల చప్పుళ్ళలో నాకు వేదం వినబడుతుందని.
విశ్వమంత చోటేల? నీ పక్క ఇరుకుస్థలముండగా.
నువ్వు నాకు గుర్తొస్తే ఎవరూ ఉండరు, నీ జ్ఞాపకం తప్ప! నువ్వు నా పక్కనుంటే అసలు నేనే ఉండను. నువ్వు తప్ప!
ప్రేమంటే మనిషి తర్కాన్ని వదిలిపెట్టడమే కదా! తన ప్రవర్తన తనకి అంతుపట్టకపోవడం కూడా ప్రేమే!
ప్రేమంటే హౄదయాన్ని పారేసుకోవడం కాదు. నువ్వు లేనప్పుడు నవ్వునీ, నువ్వున్నప్పుడు కాలాన్ని పారేసుకోవడం.
ఎక్కడ మనిషి నమ్మకాన్ని కోల్పోతాడో అక్కడ ప్రేమ కోల్పోతాడు. తనక్కావలసిన వ్యక్తి తన పరోక్షంలో కూడా తనగురించి ఆలోచిస్తూ ఉంటాడనే నమ్మకమే ప్రేమ.
ప్రతి మొగవాడూ స్త్రీ దగ్గర ఏ వయసులోనైనా చిన్నవాడే. చిన్నపిల్లవాడు తరచూ అద్దంలో తన మొహాన్ని చూసుకోవాలని అనుకున్నట్టు, ప్రతీ పురుషుడూ తనకు స్పూర్తినిచ్చిన స్త్రీ అభినందనపూర్వకమైన చిరునవ్వులో తన విజయాన్ని చూసుకోవాలనుకుంటాడు.
వస్తువు పగిలితే శబ్దం వస్తుంది. మనసు పగిలితే నిశ్శబ్దం మాత్రమే మిగులుతుంది.
సున్నితత్వం అంటే చిన్న చిన్న విషయాలకి బాధపడటం కాదు, చిన్న చిన్న విషయాలకి ఆనందపడటం.
వేసే ప్రతి అడుగుకీ అంగుళం దూరంలో ధ్యేయాన్ని పెడతాడు దేవుడు. అందుకే స్వర్గాన్ని అంత ఎత్తులో కట్టాడు. కొందరే అక్కడికి చేరుకోగలరు. అంగలేసి అలసిపోనివాళ్ళు.
మరణం అంటే ఏమిటి? లేకపోవడమేగా? మనం ఉండం. అంతా ఉంటుంది. మందాకినీ గలగలలు, నీహారికా బిందు సందోహాలు, దూకే జలపాతాలు, గుడి ప్రాంగణంలో పెరిగే గడ్డిపూలు, మలయ మారుతాలూ, మయూర నృత్యాలూ...అన్నీ ఉంటాయి.
కన్నీరా! క్రందకి జారకే! ఋతువుకాని ఋతువులో గోదావరికి వరదొచ్చిందేమిటి అని భయపడతారే!!
విజయమా, విజయమా! వెళుతూ వెళుతూ అధఃపాతాళానికి తోస్తావు వస్తూ వస్తూ అందలాన్నెక్కిస్తావు-నీకిది న్యాయమా?
అన్ని విజయాల్లోకి గొప్పవిజయం దాన్ని ఎక్కువమంది గుర్తించడం.
కాసింత చిరునవ్వు, కాసిని కన్నీళ్ళు ..ఇదేనా వీడ్కోలు అంటే?

Some Dorothy Parker Verse!

2012-01-13T23:57:00.001+05:30

Unfortunate Coincidence

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying ---
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

The Leal

The friends I made have slipped and strayed,
  And who's the one that cares?
A trifling lot and best forgot ---
  And that's my tale, and theirs.

Then if my friendships break and bend,
  There's little need to cry
The while I know that every foe
  Is faithful till I die.

Symptom Recital

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the simplest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick. I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore:
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men.
I'm due to fall in love again.

Nocturne

Always I knew that it could not last
  (Gathering clouds, and the snowflakes flying),
Now it is part of the golden past
  (Darkening skies, and the night-wind sighing);
It is but cowardice to pretend.
  Cover with ashes our love's cold crater ---
Always I've known that it had to end
  Sooner or later.

Always I knew it would come like this
  (Pattering rain, and the grasses springing),
Sweeter to you is a new love's kiss
  (Flickering sunshine, and young birds singing).
Gone are the raptures that once we knew,
  Now you are finding a new joy greater ---
Well, I'll be doing the same thing, too,
  Sooner or later.

Good Will Hunting!

2012-01-07T23:24:00.001+05:30

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that.

If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one.

You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you.

You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.

And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?

Do you think that I'd know the first thing about how hard your life has been - how you feel, who you are - because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I don't give a shit about all that, because - You know what? I can't learn anything from you... I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you wanna talk about you, who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't wanna do that, do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

Poetry

2012-01-07T23:20:00.001+05:30

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?"

Answer: that you are here; that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

~ Dead Poets Society

O Me! O Life!

2012-01-04T23:43:00.000+05:30

by Walt Whitman

O Me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse

Beautiful!

2012-01-02T00:30:00.000+05:30

You suppose you are the trouble
But you are the cure
You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it
It's too bad that you want to be someone else
You don't see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

~Rumi

A Psalm of Life

2011-12-31T23:36:00.000+05:30

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

~ H. W. Longfellow

Live Life!

2011-12-24T12:07:00.004+05:30

“I’m not telling you to make the world better, because I don’t think that progress is necessarily part of the package,” she said. ”I’m just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave’s a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that’s what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it.”

~Joan Didio

If

2011-12-24T11:50:00.000+05:30

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And --- which is more --- you'll be a Man, my son!

~Rudyard Kipling

Because You Can!

2011-11-27T11:18:00.001+05:30

At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens — that letting go — you let go because you can.

Three Passions

2011-11-21T23:41:00.001+05:30

Three passions have governed my life:
The longings for love, the search for knowledge,
And unbearable pity for the suffering of [humankind].

Love brings ecstasy and relieves loneliness.
In the union of love I have seen
In a mystic miniature the prefiguring vision
Of the heavens that saints and poets have imagined.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge.
I have wished to understand the hearts of [people].
I have wished to know why the stars shine.

Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens,
But always pity brought me back to earth;
Cries of pain reverberated in my heart
Of children in famine, of victims tortured
And of old people left helpless.
I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot,
And I too suffer.

This has been my life; I found it worth living.

[adapted from The Prologue to Bertrand Russell's Autobiography ]

Gitanjali

2011-11-15T23:57:00.000+05:30

Few parts :

I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in all works of mine. They come and ask me, `Who is he?' I know not how to answer them. I say, `Indeed, I cannot tell.' They blame me and they go away in scorn. And you sit there smiling.
I put my tales of you into lasting songs. The secret gushes out from my heart. They come and ask me, `Tell me all your meanings.' I know not how to answer them. I say, `Ah, who knows what they mean!' They smile and go away in utter scorn. And you sit there smiling.
I thought I should ask of thee---but I dared not---the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The young light of morning comes through the window and spread itself upon thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, `Woman, what hast thou got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed water---it is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no place to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given me thy sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me!

Today

2010-11-17T11:13:00.000+05:30

There's only us, there's only this.
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.
No other road, no other way, no day but today.
I can't control my destiny.
I trust my soul.
My only goal is just to be.
There's only now, there's only here.
Give in to love, or live in fear.
No other path, no other way.
No day but today.

~ Jonathan Larson in "Another Day"

Eppudu Oppukovaddhura Otami: Telugu Song!!

2010-11-14T02:29:00.000+05:30

Written by Sirivennala Sitarama Sastry
ఎప్పుడూ ఒప్పుకోవద్దురా ఓటమి

ఎప్పుడూ వదులుకోవద్దురా ఓరిమి

విశ్రమించవద్దు ఏ క్షణం

విస్మరించవద్దు నిర్ణయం

అప్పుడే నీ జయం నిశ్చయం రా || ఎప్పుడూ||

నింగి ఎంత పెద్దదైన రివ్వుమన్న గువ్వ పిల్ల రెక్క ముందు తక్కువేనురా

సంద్రమెంత గొప్పదైన ఈదుతున్న చేపపిల్ల ముప్పు ముందు చిన్నదేనురా

పశ్చిమాన పొంచి వుండి రవిని మింగు అసుర సంధ్య ఒక్కనాడు నెగ్గలేదురా

గుటకపడని అగ్గిఉండ సాగరాన ఈదుకుంటూ తూరుపింట తేలుతుందిరా

నిషా విలాసమెంతసేపురా ఉషోదయాన్ని ఎవ్వరపురా ???

రగులుతున్న గుండెకూడా సూర్యగోల మంటి దేనురా || ఎప్పుడూ||

నొప్పిలేని నిమిషమేది జననమైనా మరణమైనా జీవితాన అడుగు అడుగునా

నీరసించి నిలిచిపోతే నిమిషమైన నీది కాదు బ్రతుకు అంటే నిత్య ఘర్షణ

దేహ ముంది ప్రాణ ముంది నెత్తురుంది సత్తువుంది ఇంతకన్నా సైన్యముండునా ???

ఆశ నీకు అస్త్రమౌను శ్వాస నీకు శాస్త్రమౌను ఆశయమ్ము సారధౌనురా

నిరంతరం ప్రయత్నమున్నదా నిరాశకే నిరాశ పుట్టదా ???

ఆయువంటు వున్నవరకు చావుకూడా నెగ్గలేక శవముపైనే గెలుపు చాటురా || ఎప్పుడూ||

Lust vs. Love [Sri Krishna's Advice to Uddhava]

2010-11-01T12:52:00.000+05:30

[From KM Munshi's Krishnavatara]

......

That night Krishna felt very concerned about Uddhava. During all the time that they had lived together from the days of their infancy, he had never seen Uddhava so constrained, and so absent-minded, behaving so strangely. Though a man of a few words, he had been open-hearted, quiet, self-effacing, always radiating warmth.

With Damaghosha and Balarama, Krishna had travelled in the first chariot; Shaibya and her maids were in the next. The Acharyas followed in other chariots or on foot, while Uddhava, being in charge of the caravan, rode around all the time on the horse-back. At night, however, he came as usual to wherever Krishna happened to be waiting for him and, walking arm in arm or lying side by side as was their wont, they would exchange their impressions of the day. But a little after they began their journey, Krishna had sensed the change, though not clearly at first. As the days went by, a new mood seemed to possess Uddhava, and, during the last two nights, he had purposely kept away from Krishna, invariably avoiding his gaze even during the day-time.

Because Krishna had insisted, Uddhava had promised to come that night and had done so. After a short conversation, both retired to sleep. Balarama was already fast asleep, breathing with heavy evenness. But Krishna, who usually went to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes, kept awake, for he found that his friend was tossing uneasily from side to side in his sleep. After some time, he sat up, drew closer to Uddhava and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder with a gesture of infinite tenderness. Uddhava woke up with a start; Krishna enveloped him in his arms.

A late moon was in the sky, throwing varied patterns of light and shade on the earth throughout the leafy branches of the trees.

'Uddhava, I want to talk to you. Come,' he said.

Uddhava got up and following his friend to a platform of earth which surrounded a tree in the neighborhood. Krishna pulled Uddhava to his side and silently watched him for a few moments. He could see that Uddhava was nervous.

'My brother, you have become different these days,' Krishna said softly.

Uddhava gave an imperceptible start, which Krishna did not fail to notice. 'Do I look different? You are mistaken' he said with a forced smile.

'Uddhava, what has come between us? Have I done anything to offend you?' asked Krishna.

'You to offend me!' said Uddhava, clinging to Krishna like a drowning man. 'You would never offend me, and whatever you do, I will never take offence. Have you any doubt, Krishna?,' he asked anxiously.

'No, Uddhava. That is why I want to know what troubles you.' Krishna felt a tremor passing through Uddhava's frame. 'Tell me, my brother.'

'What can I say? I don't understand it myself,' said Uddhava looking away from Krishna.

'I will try to understand it for you,' said Krishna. 'Since we left Karavirapura something has happened to you - something which had not happened to you before.'

'Nothing has happened to me. I was with you all the time,' replied Uddhava with a forced smile.

Krishna smiled indulgently. 'That is what I want to know. What happens to you and why, when I am with you? I see you feel a want, a sense of loss, a self-defeat - which you never did before. Tell me, Uddhava. Don't try to conceal it.' Krishna pressed Uddhava to his heart.

Uddhava hesitated a while, sighed, and then spoke in a voice which trembled a little. 'If you want to know, I will tell you. I am tired of life. I want to give up this life and return to Badari Ashram,' he said and paused as he found he was unable to express himself clearly.

'Why turn an ascetic? We are here to affirm life, to rise above it, not to deny it,' said Krishna.

'You can do so, for you are a god. You are born to dominate life,' said Uddhava helplessly. 'I am not.'

'Life was meant to be lived. Even the venerable Parashurama said so. And both of us have lived it well so far,' said Krishna.

'I have no desire to live well, Krishna. Don't make me more unhappy by having to confess it. I have made up my mind,' said Uddhava, his eyes full of a silent pathetic appeal to Krishna not to probe into his heart any further.

'Brother, you can't be unhappy just because I want you to share your unhappiness with me,' Krishna suddenly stood up and gathered Uddhava to his breast as a thought struck him.

'Have you become infatuated with Shaibya?' he asked.

Uddhava hid his face on Krishna's breast. 'Krishna, don't ask me.'

'Now I know. Kamadeva's arrows have hit you, Uddhava. I now understand what you feel,' said Krishna sympathetically. 'She is pledged to Shvetaketu; you won't take her away from him; you cannot live without her; you cannot have her; you, therefore, want to renounce life.'

'Don't, don't,' piteously sobbed Uddhava, 'I have gone mad. I have sinned. I have been untrue to you.'

'Don't be so harsh on yourself. What you suffer is only natural. Woman, when the darts of Kamadeva pierce your hearts, is like fire; whoever then touches her gets singed (i.e., burnt superficially or lightly, scorched),' said Krishna.

'I don't want only to be singed by the fire. I want to throw myself into it and be reduced to ashes. You cannot understand what I feel. You can love the Gopis and leave them without a sigh,' said Uddhava.

'You are wrong, Uddhava,' said Krishna quietly.

'You are so different from all of us, Krishna,' said Uddhava, heaving a sigh. Then his reserve broke down. 'Now that you have asked me, Krishna, let me make a clean breast of it. I was wanting to do it all these days, for I cannot live as a stranger to you. You do not know what I have suffered since we left Karavirapura. Awake or asleep, I have seen her beautiful eyes full of tears before me. I see her in my dreams. Oh, she is so wonderful!' He paused. 'And I feel like a thief when I think how Shvetaketu and Shaibya are pledged to each other.'

'How did it happen so suddenly?' asked Krishna sympathetically.

'The day we started, I went to her to see that she was well looked after. She was sitting in the chariot, her face between her knees. When I asked her whether she wanted anything, her eyes, Krishna, flashed an angry look at me. They looked so wonderful. Then my eyes fell on her neck, her shoulder, her figure - and I was struck dumb as Shvetaketu was once. My blood appeared to be on fire. I felt like fainting,' said Uddhava.

'That is Kamadeva fanning the fire,' said Krishna indulgently.

'Call it what you will,' said Uddhava. 'I then asked her to take some milk which the maid had brought. She took the earthen cup from her hands and threw it at me.'

Uddhava hesitated for a while, sighed and continued. 'I felt that I must make her eat and drink something, otherwise she would die. So I stood there obstinately holding out another cup of milk for her to take. She glared at me. I continued to smile. At last she took the cup from me and said in disgust, 'You want me to take it. Very well, I will.' She drank the milk and handed back the cup to the maid. 'Now please go and don't make me more miserable,' she said.'

'I came away, but could not forget even for a moment how she had looked at me. Then day after day I went to her twice, sometimes three times a day, and offered her food. Everytime she would stare at me, take the food from me, and after eating it, would fold her hands and beg me to leave her alone. Doing this day after day, I felt myself floating in the air. The colour of earth and heaven changed. You became distant too - almost unreal.'

Krishna smiled with understanding. 'I became a dim star in the distant sky?' he asked with a sly wink.

Uddhava ignored the irrelevant question. 'At night whether I am awake or alseep, they are before me - the angry eyes, the arching bows, the defiant nose, the long tapering fingers, the gait of voluptuous grace....,' he paused.

'If you like, I will complete the description: - of a fascinating leopardess, growling in suppressed ferocity at my poor Uddhava,' said Krishna, mischievously.

'Don't tease me, Krishna. You don't know how miserable I am. You don't know what happens to me night after night,' said Uddhava.

'I know you have disturbed sleep these days,' said Krishna.

'Often after midnight I wake up. My body then trembles like a leaf in a breeze; flames course along my veins; bells ring in my ears,' said Uddhava and looked down almost shamefacedly and continued in low, halting accents. 'I see her.... I cling to her.... oh, Krishna, I am fallen beyond redemption. I have no right to your love. When I am half asleep, sometimes I see myself carrying her away, stabbing Shvetaketu.'

'I know you dislike the brutish ways of our Kshatriyas - raiding and capturing women like cattle against their will,' added Uddhava.

'Yes it is adharma to do so,' said Krishna.

Clinging to Krishna like a drowning man, Uddhava repeated, 'I am fallen. I am sunk in vile passion, lust and greed and jealousy.'

'And when I realised that I had fallen, I felt a shock, Krishna,' continued Uddhava. 'I could not take away what was Shvetaketu's. I could not give her up. So I decided to renounce the world,'

'Only a few, whom the Gods bless, can renounce women and live a life of vigour. But that is not given to us all. If you go to Badari Ashram, Shaibya - in one form or other - will follow you. She will haunt your loneliness. You can't live in vigour and forget women,' said Krishna.

'I want to forget women - at least Shaibya. Otherwise I will go mad. How can I do it?' asked Uddhava.

'Control yourself,' replied Krishna.

'I don't know how I can do it,' said Uddhava in an appealing voice. 'I have never felt this way before.'

Krishna was silent for a while and then in a quiet, affectionate voice resumed. 'I told you, to us, whenever wounded by Kamadeva's arrows, woman becomes fire. We are first inclined to make of her a wayside fire to give a fleeting warmth and then pass by it on our way. Then the breezes fan the fire; the flames set fire to the grass under our feet and the dry branches overhead.'

'Very little is left of me, and whatever is left will soon be reduced to ashes,' said Uddhava bitterly.

'There is one way, the only way. Keep the warmth, but stay away from the flames,' said Krishna.

'It is easy to say so, but how? I have nothing of me left which would let me stay away,' Uddhava pleaded helplessly.

'Try. Do you really want Shaibya?' asked Krishna.

'I want her, but I will not be untrue to my friend, Shvetaketu,' replied Uddhava.

'You can weave any women into your life - may be not as you wish - if you convert the wayside fire into the sacrificial fire on a vedi, an altar (a devata for aaraadhana/worship).

'Why a wayside fire?' asked Uddhava.

'Because you don't wait to inquire of what it is made; you don't care who warmed himself at it before you did, or what will happen to it after you have left. You are only selfish; you want a passing warmth. You don't consider how it will affect you later. You don't want it to lead you to strength,' said Krishna.

'Oh!' said Uddhava.

'A passing fancy for a wayside fire will only singe (i.e., burn superficially or lightly, scorch); lifelong worship at the altar will give warmth - always.' Krishna placed his hands on Uddhava's shoulders and his voice, as on all such occasions, had the ring of certitude, of authority.

'Don't talk to me in riddles. Tell me clearly, please, I beg of you, Krishna,' said Uddhava helplessly.

'You want Shaibya for your life and hers?' asked Krishna.

'I want her, but do not want to be untrue to Shvetaketu - nor to you,' Uddhava shook his head.

'Then stand true to yourself; build an altar of devotion around her; offer her the most precious thing you can offer; then she will give you the warmth and strength of the sacrificial fire,' said Krishna.

'But in that way, Krishna, she will never be mine as I want her to be,' said Uddhava, unconvinced.

'And if you throw yourself into the fire, will you become the Lord of the fire? No, Uddhava. The sacrificial fire gives blessings only to the one who offers all, not to the one who demands all,' said Krishna.

'The thought that Shaibya will not be mine sends me mad,' said Uddhava shaking his head in utter helplessness.

'Do I not know how wonderful Shaibya is? She has the fiery spirit of a half-tamed mare. She is a woman of great ability and devotion. Only she is at war with the world - that is the trouble with her. No sooner had I seen her than I was drawn to her myself - and constructed an altar around her. I do it with every woman who enters my life. I did the same with Mother Yashoda, with the Gopis, with Vishakha, with Radha, with Mother Devaki, and even with Trivakra (Kamsa's palace maid whom Krishna cured of disfigurement),' said Krishna.

'I cannot do what you can. I could only build an altar round you, and that is now defiled,' said Uddhava.

'I will show you the way to build the altar, Uddhava. It is not difficult. Are you ready to bear the thousand thorns which would afflict you as you lived with Shaibya day by day?' asked Krishna.

'Why do you ask these questions, Krishna? They hurt me. I want her for ever and ever, but I am never going to obtain her,' said Uddhava.

'Answer my question,' said Krishna. 'Would you like her to be the mother of your children, the kula stree, the presiding goddess of your family, who would surround you and your children with love and transmit your family traditions to you children?'

'I don't know,' Uddhava confessed. 'I have never thought of those things,'

'Then you are selfish; you have no devotion to offer her, you only want her as a passing glow,' said Krishna.

Uddhava was indignant, but speechless.

'Do think again and tell me. Do you want her to be a divinity to her children, loved, honoured and worshipped by them?' asked Krishna.

'Certainly, I do,' replied Uddhava.

'Well, then when she grows old, ailing, decrepit, will you still be able to warm yourself? Or, when your life is running out, will you still be able to warm yourself at the dying fire?' Krishna insisted on an answer.

'How can I say? I am bewildered,' said Uddhava.

'If you cannot say it clearly, how can you enshrine Shaibya on an altar?' Krishna said slowly and became dreamily reminiscent.

'Uddhava, both you and my Big Brother have always upbraided me for leaving Radha behind in Vrindavan. But I did it because I want her to be my sacred fire. I would never have loved Radha had I not felt sure that I was going to be in Vrindavan as a cowherd for ever. But when I was called to Mathura as Vasudeva's son, it would have been wicked to bring her with me. She was born to be an exquisite flower in the spring and would never have survived the hot winds of the life I was called upon to face. She would have never found her "Kahn" in Krishna Vaasudeva. And I, with my mission to fulfil, could not have played the gay cowherd, who was the very breath of her life. So I parted from her. She has always remained an altar fire for me and I have remained the altar fire for her. It was the only way,' said Krishna, a little sadly.

'I wish we all had your wisdom,' said Uddhava.

'If you feel so, why not let me tell you what I think wisdom is?' Krishna was now speaking with authority. 'Man and wife, Uddhava, living in mutual lifelong devotion, are at the root of Dharma. The creation springs from them. Don't destroy Dharma for a fleeting comfort at a wayside fire.'

'Remember what the Gods did in the days of old,' continued Krishna. 'They had to offer sacred Purusha to make creating possible. Without a sacrificial offering, you cannot create anything,' said Krishna as if speaking to himself. 'If you want a woman, you have to offer something: a present, a house to live in, lifelong protection. But in that way you will only get a woman, her body, her services. The offering however is like sacrificing ghee or barley or a lamb to obtain a place in heaven. If you want a divinity to inspire you to Dharma and multiply your strength a hundredfold, you must offer something vastly greater. Have not the Gods said: 'By the spirit of sacrifice alone shall sacrifice prosper?'

'Don't confuse me, Krishna,' said Uddhava. 'Tell me what I should do. I have always lived in and for you, always obeyed you. In this case too, I will follow your advice. You have the Power to see, but I have not.'

'Then my brother, find out for yourself whether Shaibya is a wayside fire for you or worth enshrining on an altar. She is a wonder of a woman - a splendorous creature, not exactly made for a devoted wife or a self-effacing mother, unless she has learnt to give you the devotion which she gave to her uncle. She is at present a raging wild fire. She cannot be even a wayside fire, much less an altar fire - either for you or for Shvetaketu. Shvetaketu has accepted my advice and will wait till the darting flames - which are Shaibya today - subside,' said Krishna.

'Do you give me the same advice?' asked Uddhava.

'Yes. In the meantime, let each one of you build his own altar around her.... and who knows if the fire will be tamed and declare its own guardian god,' said Krishna.

'It is a hard, hard way,' said Uddhava.

'The hardest way is the best - for it is the way of Tapas, of the strength which comes of purifying the body and the mind. If Tapas does not purify passion, women themselves will think it an amusing game to become wayside fires; roaring like Rudras, they will sweep Dharma away. Then the unity of man and wife will be dissolved; the family bond will be snapped; the ways of our Fathers will be forgotten and the bonds which keep the worlds together will break. Men and women, lusting and irresponsible, incapable of Tapas, will forswear Rita, to which even the Gods conform. In the end, Dharma will die and men and women will be worse than beasts,' said Krishna.

Uddhava kept looking down, listening to the words of his friend.

'I have never spoken to you so freely about this, for no occasion has arisen so far,' continued Krishna. 'But, Uddhava, listen. We cannot desert Dharma. We have still very far to go. I say we - for without you, I am helpless. Your faith in me keeps me on the path of Dharma. Don't forget it.'

'Lord, forgive me,' said Uddhava, overborne by such love and kindness. 'I am not worthy of such affection. Tell me what to do, and I will do it.'

'Tomorrow or the day after, my Big Brother is going with King Kukudmin to capture Kushasthali (future Dwaraka). Go with them. Nothing makes it easier to prepare a good altar than being away from the fire. By the time you come back, the raging flame, which is Shaibya today, will have subsided; perhaps by then Shvetaketu may have returned to Mathura,' said Krishna.

'It is a terrible thing that you ask me to do. But I swear, I will carry it out - even at the cost of my life,' said Uddhava.

'Great things, Uddhava, are always done at the cost of one's life,' said Krishna.

Kavitha O Kavitha...

2010-10-05T19:48:00.001+05:30

My favorite poem from Sri Sri:

కవితా! ఓ కవితా!
నా యువకాశల నవపేశల సుమగీతావరణంలో,
నిను నే నొక సుముహూర్తంలో,
అతిసుందర సుస్యందనమందున
దూరంగా వినువీధుల్లో విహరించే

అందని అందానివిగా
భావించిన రోజులలో,
నీకై బ్రదుకే ఒక తపమై
వెదుకాడే నిమిషాలందున నిషాలందున,
ఎటు నే చూచిన చటులాలంకారపు
మటుమాయల నటనలలో,
నీ రూపం కనరానందున
నా గుహలో, కుటిలో, చీకటిలో
ఒక్కడనై స్రుక్కిన రోజులు లేవా?

నీ ప్రాబల్యంలో,
చిరదీక్షా శిక్షా తపస్సమీక్షణలో,
నిశ్చల సమాధిలో,
స్వర్గద్వారపు తోరణమై వ్రేలిన నా
మస్తిష్కంలో
ఏయే ఘోషలు, భాషలు, దృశ్యాల్ తోచాయో?
నే నేయే చిత్రవిచిత్ర శ్యమంత
రోచిర్నివహం చూశానో!
నా గీతం ఏయే శక్తులలో
ప్రాణస్పందన పొందిందో?
నీకై నే నేరిన వేయే ధ్వనులో,
ఏయే మూలల వెదకిన ప్రోవుల
ప్రోవుల రణన్నినాదాలో!
నడిరే యాకస మావర్తించిన,
మేఘా లావర్షించిన,
ప్రచండ ఝంఝా ప్రభంజనం
గజగజ లాడించిన
నడిసంద్రపు కెరటాల్లో మ్రోగిన
శంఖారావం, ఢంకాధ్వానం!
ఆ రాత్రే,
కారడవులలో లయాతీతమై
విరుతించిన నానాజంతుధ్వనులో?
నక్షత్రాంతర్నిబిడ నిఖిలగానం,
భూకంపాలు, ప్రభుత్వ పతనాలు,
విప్లవం, యుద్ధం,
అన్నీ నీ చైతన్యం!
నీ విశ్వరూప సాక్షాత్కారం!

మరి నిన్ను స్మరిస్తే
నా కగుపించే దృశ్యాలా?
వినిపించే భాష్యాలా?

అగ్నిసరస్సున వికసించిన వజ్రం!
ఎగిరే లోహశ్యేనం!
ఫిరంగిలో జ్వరం ధ్వనించే మృదంగ నాదం!

ఇంకా నే నేం విన్నానా?
నడిరే నిద్దురలో
అపుడే ప్రసవించిన శిశువు నెదడ నిడుకొని
రుచిర స్వప్నాలను కాంచే
జవరాలి మనఃప్రపంచపు టావర్తాలు!
శిశువు చిత్ర నిద్రలో
ప్రాచీన స్మృతులూచే చప్పుడు!
వైద్యశాలలో,
శస్త్రకారుని మహేంద్రజాలంలో,
చావుబ్రదుకుల సంధ్యాకాలంలో
కన్నులు మూసిన రోగార్తుని
రక్తనాళ సంస్పందన!
కాలువనీళులలో జారిపడి
కదలగనైనా చాలని
త్రాగుబోతు వ్యక్తావ్యక్తాలాపన!
ప్రేలాపన!

కడుపు దహించుకుపోయే
పడుపుకత్తె రాక్షసరతిలో
అర్ధనిమీలిత నేత్రాల
భయంకర బాధల పాటల పల్లవి!
ఉరి తీయబడ్డ శిరస్సు చెప్పిన రహస్యం!
ఉన్మాది మనస్సినీవాలిలో
ఘూకం కేకా, భేకంబాకా!
సమ్మెకట్టిన కూలీల,
సమ్మెకట్టిన కూలీల భార్యల, బిడ్డల
ఆకటి చీకటిచిచ్చుల

హాహాకారం! ఆర్తారావం!
ఒక లక్ష నక్షత్రాల మాటలు,
ఒక కోటి జలపాతాల పాటలు,
శతకోటి సముద్రతరంగాల మ్రోతలు!
విన్నానమ్మా! విన్నా, నెన్నో విన్నాను.
నా విన్నవి కన్నవి విన్నవించగా
మాటలకై వెదుకాడగబోతె--
అవి,

పుంఖానుపుంఖంగా
శ్మశానాలవంటి నిఘంటువుల దాటి,
వ్యాకరణాల సంకెళ్ళు విడిచి,
ఛందస్సుల సర్పపరిష్వంగం వదలి--
వడిగా, వడివడిగా
వెలువడినై, పరుగిడినై, నా యెద నడుగిడినై!
ఆ చెలరేగిన కలగాపులగపు

విలయావర్తపు
బలవత్ ఝరవత్ పరివర్తనలో,
నే నేయే వీధులలో
చంక్రమణం చేశానో,
నా సృష్టించిన గానంలో
ప్రక్షాళితమామక పాపపరంపర
లానందవశంవదహృదయుని జేస్తే-

నీకై మేలుకొనిన
సకలేంద్రియములతో
ఏది రచిస్తున్నానో, చూస్తున్నానో,
ఊపిరి తీస్తున్నానో,
నిర్వికల్ప సమాధిలో
నా ప్రాణం నిర్వాణం పొందిందో,
అటు నను మంత్రించిన,
సమ్ముగ్ధం గావించిన ఆ గాంధర్వానికి,
తారానివహపు ప్రేమసమాగమంలో
జన్మించిన సంగీతానికి...
నా నాడుల తీగలపై సాగిన
నాదబ్రహ్మపు పరిచుంబనలో,
ప్రాణావసానవేళాజనితం,
నానాగానానూనస్వానావళితం,
బ్రదుకును ప్రచండభేరుండ గరు
త్పరిరంభంలో పట్టిన గానం,
సుఖదుఃఖాదిక ద్వంద్వాతీతం,
అమోఘ, మగాధ, మచింత్య, మమేయం,
ఏకాంతం, ఏకైకం,
క్షణికమై శాశ్వతమైన దివ్యానుభవం,
బ్రహ్మానుభవం కలిగించిన,
నను కరిగించిన కవనఘృణీ!
రమణీ!
కవితా! ఓ కవితా!
నా జనని గర్భంలో,
ఆకారం లేకుండా నిద్రిస్తూన్న
నా అహంకారానికి
ఆకలి గొల్పించిననాడో!
నా బహిరంతరింద్రియాలలో
ప్రాణం ప్రసరించగ, నేనీ భూలోకంలో పడి
సుఖదుఃఖా లేవేవో
వస్తూంటే తలదాలిచి
ప్రపంచ పరిణాహంలో
ప్రయాణికుడనై,
పరివ్రాజకుడనై,
విహ్వలంగా వర్తించే వేళ
అభయహస్తముద్రతో ననుదరిసిన
నన్ను పునీతుని కావించిన కవితా!
లలిత లలిత కరుణామహితా!
అనుపమితా!
అపరిమితా!
కవితా! ఓ కవితా!
నేడో, నా ఊహాంచల
సాహసికాంసం కప్పిన నా
నిట్టూర్పులు వినిపిస్తాయా?
నే నేదో విరచిస్తానని,
నా రచనలలో లోకం ప్రతిఫలించి,
నా తపస్సు ఫలించి,
నా గీతం గుండెలలో ఘూర్ణిల్లగ
నా జాతి జనులు పాడుకొనే
మంత్రంగా మ్రోగించాలని,
నా ఆకాశాలను
లోకానికి చేరువగా,
నా ఆదర్శాలను
సోదరులంతా పంచుకునే
వెలుగుల రవ్వల జడిగా,
అందీ అందకపోయే
నీ చేలాంచలముల విసరుల
కొసగాలులతో నిర్మించిన
నా నుడి నీ గుడిగా,
నా గీతం నైవేద్యంగా, హృద్యంగా,
అర్పిస్తానో
నా విసరిన రస విసృమర
కుసుమ పరాగం!
ఓహో! ఓ రసధుని! మణిఖని! జననీ! ఓ కవితా!
కవితా! కవితా! ఓ కవితా!

Jeff Bezos: "We are What We Choose"

2010-10-01T23:58:00.000+05:30

[Remarks by Jeff Bezos, as delivered to the Class of 2010 at Princeton]

As a kid, I spent my summers with my grandparents on their ranch in Texas. I helped fix windmills, vaccinate cattle, and do other chores. We also watched soap operas every afternoon, especially "Days of our Lives." My grandparents belonged to a Caravan Club, a group of Airstream trailer owners who travel together around the U.S. and Canada. And every few summers, we'd join the caravan. We'd hitch up the Airstream trailer to my grandfather's car, and off we'd go, in a line with 300 other Airstream adventurers. I loved and worshipped my grandparents and I really looked forward to these trips. On one particular trip, I was about 10 years old. I was rolling around in the big bench seat in the back of the car. My grandfather was driving. And my grandmother had the passenger seat. She smoked throughout these trips, and I hated the smell.

At that age, I'd take any excuse to make estimates and do minor arithmetic. I'd calculate our gas mileage -- figure out useless statistics on things like grocery spending. I'd been hearing an ad campaign about smoking. I can't remember the details, but basically the ad said, every puff of a cigarette takes some number of minutes off of your life: I think it might have been two minutes per puff. At any rate, I decided to do the math for my grandmother. I estimated the number of cigarettes per days, estimated the number of puffs per cigarette and so on. When I was satisfied that I'd come up with a reasonable number, I poked my head into the front of the car, tapped my grandmother on the shoulder, and proudly proclaimed, "At two minutes per puff, you've taken nine years off your life!"

I have a vivid memory of what happened, and it was not what I expected. I expected to be applauded for my cleverness and arithmetic skills. "Jeff, you're so smart. You had to have made some tricky estimates, figure out the number of minutes in a year and do some division." That's not what happened. Instead, my grandmother burst into tears. I sat in the backseat and did not know what to do. While my grandmother sat crying, my grandfather, who had been driving in silence, pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. He got out of the car and came around and opened my door and waited for me to follow. Was I in trouble? My grandfather was a highly intelligent, quiet man. He had never said a harsh word to me, and maybe this was to be the first time? Or maybe he would ask that I get back in the car and apologize to my grandmother. I had no experience in this realm with my grandparents and no way to gauge what the consequences might be. We stopped beside the trailer. My grandfather looked at me, and after a bit of silence, he gently and calmly said, "Jeff, one day you'll understand that it's harder to be kind than clever."

What I want to talk to you about today is the difference between gifts and choices. Cleverness is a gift, kindness is a choice. Gifts are easy -- they're given after all. Choices can be hard. You can seduce yourself with your gifts if you're not careful, and if you do, it'll probably be to the detriment of your choices.

This is a group with many gifts. I'm sure one of your gifts is the gift of a smart and capable brain. I'm confident that's the case because admission is competitive and if there weren't some signs that you're clever, the dean of admission wouldn't have let you in.

Your smarts will come in handy because you will travel in a land of marvels. We humans -- plodding as we are -- will astonish ourselves. We'll invent ways to generate clean energy and a lot of it. Atom by atom, we'll assemble tiny machines that will enter cell walls and make repairs. This month comes the extraordinary but also inevitable news that we've synthesized life. In the coming years, we'll not only synthesize it, but we'll engineer it to specifications. I believe you'll even see us understand the human brain. Jules Verne, Mark Twain, Galileo, Newton -- all the curious from the ages would have wanted to be alive most of all right now. As a civilization, we will have so many gifts, just as you as individuals have so many individual gifts as you sit before me.

How will you use these gifts? And will you take pride in your gifts or pride in your choices?

I got the idea to start Amazon 16 years ago. I came across the fact that Web usage was growing at 2,300 percent per year. I'd never seen or heard of anything that grew that fast, and the idea of building an online bookstore with millions of titles -- something that simply couldn't exist in the physical world -- was very exciting to me. I had just turned 30 years old, and I'd been married for a year. I told my wife MacKenzie that I wanted to quit my job and go do this crazy thing that probably wouldn't work since most startups don't, and I wasn't sure what would happen after that. MacKenzie (also a Princeton grad and sitting here in the second row) told me I should go for it. As a young boy, I'd been a garage inventor. I'd invented an automatic gate closer out of cement-filled tires, a solar cooker that didn't work very well out of an umbrella and tinfoil, baking-pan alarms to entrap my siblings. I'd always wanted to be an inventor, and she wanted me to follow my passion.

I was working at a financial firm in New York City with a bunch of very smart people, and I had a brilliant boss that I much admired. I went to my boss and told him I wanted to start a company selling books on the Internet. He took me on a long walk in Central Park, listened carefully to me, and finally said, "That sounds like a really good idea, but it would be an even better idea for someone who didn't already have a good job." That logic made some sense to me, and he convinced me to think about it for 48 hours before making a final decision. Seen in that light, it really was a difficult choice, but ultimately, I decided I had to give it a shot. I didn't think I'd regret trying and failing. And I suspected I would always be haunted by a decision to not try at all. After much consideration, I took the less safe path to follow my passion, and I'm proud of that choice.

Tomorrow, in a very real sense, your life -- the life you author from scratch on your own -- begins.

How will you use your gifts? What choices will you make?

Will inertia be your guide, or will you follow your passions?

Will you follow dogma, or will you be original?

Will you choose a life of ease, or a life of service and adventure?

Will you wilt under criticism, or will you follow your convictions?

Will you bluff it out when you're wrong, or will you apologize?

Will you guard your heart against rejection, or will you act when you fall in love?

Will you play it safe, or will you be a little bit swashbuckling?

When it's tough, will you give up, or will you be relentless?

Will you be a cynic, or will you be a builder?

Will you be clever at the expense of others, or will you be kind?

I will hazard a prediction. When you are 80 years old, and in a quiet moment of reflection narrating for only yourself the most personal version of your life story, the telling that will be most compact and meaningful will be the series of choices you have made. In the end, we are our choices. Build yourself a great story. Thank you and good luck!

Jeff Bezos Model: Regret Minimization Framework

2010-10-01T23:50:00.002+05:30

[via HackerNews and this interview]

I went to my boss and said to him, “You know, I’m going to go do this crazy thing and I’m going to start this company selling books online.” This was something that I had already been talking to him about in a sort of more general context, but then he said, “Let’s go on a walk.” And, we went on a two hour walk in Central Park in New York City and the conclusion of that was this. He said, “You know, this actually sounds like a really good idea to me, but it sounds like it would be a better idea for somebody who didn’t already have a good job.” He convinced me to think about it for 48 hours before making a final decision.

So, I went away and was trying to find the right framework in which to make that kind of big decision. I had already talked to my wife about this, and she was very supportive and said, “Look, you know you can count me in 100 percent, whatever you want to do.” It’s true she had married this fairly stable guy in a stable career path, and now he wanted to go do this crazy thing, but she was 100 percent supportive. So, it really was a decision that I had to make for myself, and the framework I found which made the decision incredibly easy was what I called — which only a nerd would call — a “regret minimization framework.”

So, I wanted to project myself forward to age 80 and say, “Okay, now I’m looking back on my life. I want to have minimized the number of regrets I have.” I knew that when I was 80 I was not going to regret having tried this. I was not going to regret trying to participate in this thing called the Internet that I thought was going to be a really big deal. I knew that if I failed I wouldn’t regret that, but I knew the one thing I might regret is not ever having tried. I knew that that would haunt me every day, and so, when I thought about it that way it was an incredibly easy decision. And, I think that’s very good. If you can project yourself out to age 80 and sort of think, “What will I think at that time?” it gets you away from some of the daily pieces of confusion. You know, I left this Wall Street firm in the middle of the year. When you do that, you walk away from your annual bonus. That’s the kind of thing that in the short-term can confuse you, but if you think about the long-term then you can really make good life decisions that you won’t regret later.

Most regrets, by the way, are acts of omission and not commission. If you do bad things, if you go murder somebody, that would be bad and that would be an act of commission that you would regret. But most everyday, ordinary non-murderers, when they're 80 years old, their big regrets are omissions.

Some Favorite Quotes..

2010-09-24T02:24:00.000+05:30

William Faulkner

Because no battle is ever won, he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
Be scared. You can’t help that. But don’t be afraid. Ain’t nothing in the woods going to hurt you unless you corner it, or it smells that you are afraid. A bear or a deer, too, has got to be scared of a coward the same as a brave man has got to be.
It is my ambition to be, as a private individual, abolished and voided from history, leaving it markless, no refuse save the printed books; I wish I had enough sense to see ahead thirty years ago, and like some of the Elizabethans, not signed them. It is my aim, and every effort bent, that the sum and history of my life, which in the same sentence is my obit and epitaph too, shall be them both: He made the books and he died.
I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn't need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.
Sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words.
Let the writer take up surgery or bricklaying if he is interested in technique. There is no mechanical way to get the writing done, no shortcut. The young writer would be a fool to follow a theory. Teach yourself by your own mistakes; people learn only by error. The good artist believes that nobody is good enough to give him advice. He has supreme vanity. No matter how much he admires the old writer, he wants to beat him.

Satoshi Kon's last words

2010-08-30T16:37:00.002+05:30

Satosi Kon, a Japanese anime filmmaker and comic-book artist whose dazzling visual compositions
won him a devoted following in Japan and beyond, died on 24 Aug 2010 at age 46. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and before dying, he left a final statement in his blog, which has been the talk of the Japanese Internet off late.

From one of the english translations on his final statement (the original post is available here):

Sayonara (Goodbye)

How could I forget, May 18th of this year.

I received the following pronouncement from a cardiovascular doctor at Musashino Red Cross Hospital.

"It's the latter stages of pancreatic cancer. It's metastasized to several bones. You have at the most half a year left to live."

My wife and I listened together. It was a fate so unexpected and untenable, that the two of us together could barely take it.

I used to honestly think that "I can't help it if I die any day." Still, it was so sudden.

To be sure, there were some signs. 2 to 3 months before that I'd had strong pains in several places on my back and in the joints of my legs; I'd lost strength in my right leg and found it hard to walk, and I'd been going to an acupuncturist and a chiropractor, but I wasn't getting any better. So after having been examined in an MRI and a PET-CT and such advanced machinery, came the sudden pronouncement of the time I had left.

It was as if death had positioned itself right behind me before I knew it, and there was nothing I could do.

After the pronouncement, my wife and I researched ways to prolong my life. It was literally a life or death situation. We received the support of staunch frends and strong allies. I rejected anti-cancer medication, and tried to live with a view of the world slightly different from the norm. The fact that I rejected what was "expected (normal)" seemed to me to be very much like me.

I've never really felt that I belonged with the majority. It was the same for medical care, as with anything else. "Why not try to keep living according to my own principles!" However, as is the case when I'm trying to create a work [a film], ones willpower alone didn't do the job. The illness kept progressing day by day.

On the other hand, as a member of society, I do accept at least half of what society in general holds to be right. I do pay taxes. I'm far from being an upstanding citizen, but I am a full member of Japanese society. So, aside from the things I needed to do to prolong my life from my own point of view, I also attempted to do all the things necessary to "be ready to die properly". I don't think I managed to do it properly though. (But) one of the things I did was, with the cooperation of 2 friends that I could trust, set up a company to take care of things like the measly number of copyrights that I hold. Another thing that I did was, to insure that my wife would take over any modest assets that I had smoothly by writing a will. Of course, I didn't think there would be any fighting over my legacy or anything, but I wanted to make sure that my wife, who would remain behind in this world, would have nothing to worry about - and besides, I wanted to remove any anxiety from myself, the one who was going to take a little hop over there, before I had to leave.

The paperwork and research necessary for these tasks, which neither my wife nor I were good at doing, were taken care of speedily by wonderful friends. Later on, when I developed pneumonia and was at death's door, and put my final signature on the will, I thought that if I died right then and there, it couldn't be helped.

"Ah...I can die at last."

After all, I'd been brought by ambulance to the Musashino Red Cross Hospital 2 days before that; then brought back again to the same hospital by ambulance the day after. Even I had to be hospitalized and undergo many examinations. The result of those examinations: pneumonia, water in my chest, and when I asked the doctor [straight out], the answer I received was very businesslike, and I was in a way grateful for that.

"You may last 1 or 2 days...even if you survive this, you probably have until the end of the month."

As I listened, I thought "It's like he's telling me the weather forecast", but still the situation was dire.

That was July the 7th. It was a rather brutal Tanabata for sure.

So, I decided right there and then.

I wanted to die at home.

I might inconvenience the people around me, but I asked them to see how I could escape and go back home. [I was able to do so] thanks to my wife's efforts, the hospital's cooperation despite their position of having given up on me, the tremendous help of other medical facilities, and the coincidences that were so numerous that they only seemed to be gifts from heaven. I've never seen so many coincidences and events falling into place so neatly in real life, I could barely believe it. This wasn't Tokyo Godfathers after all.

While my wife was running around getting things in place for my escape, I was pleading with doctors "If I can go home for even half a day, there are things I can still do!", then waiting alone in the depressing hospital room for death. I was lonely, but this was what I was thinking.

"Maybe dying won't be so bad."

I didn't have any reasons for it, and perhaps I needed to think like that, but I was surprisingly calm and relaxed.

However, there was just one thought that was gnawing away at me.

"I don't want to die here..."

As I thought that, something moved out from the calendar on the wall and started to spread around the room.

"Oh dear, a line marching out from the calendar. My　hallucinations aren't at all original."

I had to smile at the fact at my professional instincts were working even at times like this, but in any case I was probably the nearest to the land of the dead that I'd ever been at that point. I really felt death very close to me. [But] with the help of many people, I miraculously escaped Musashino Red Cross and came back home, wrapped up in the land of the dead and bedsheets.

I should emphasize that I have no criticism of or hatred for Musashino Red Cross Hospital, so don't misconstrue me.

I just wanted to go home to my own house. The house where I live.

I was a little surprised that, when I was being carried into my living room, as a bonus, I experienced that deathbed experience everyone is familiar with of "looking down on your body being carried into the room from a place high above". I was looking down on myself and the scene around me from a position several meters above ground, through a wide-angle-ish lens and flash lighting. The square of the bed in the middle of the room seemed very large and prominent, and my sheet-wrapped body was being lowered into the middle of the square. None too gently it seemed, but I'm not complaining.

So, all I had to do was to wait for death in my own home.

However.

It seems that I was able to overcome the pneumonia.

Eh?

I did think like this, in a way.

"I didn't manage to die! (laugh)"

Afterwards, when I could think of nothing else but death, I thought that I did indeed die once then. In the back of my mind, the world "reborn" wavered several times.

Amazingly, after then my life-force was rejuvenated. From the bottom of my heart, I believe this is due to the people who helped me; first and foremost my wife, and my supportive friends, the doctors and nurses, and the care managers.

Now that my life-force had been restarted, I couldn't waste my time. I told myself that I'd been given an extra life, and that I had to spend it carefully. So I thought that I wanted to erase at least one of the irresponsibilities that I'd left behind in this world.

To be truthful, I'd only told the people closest to me about the cancer. I hadn't even told my parents. In particular, because of various work-related complications, I couldn't say anything (to people) even if I wanted to. I wanted to announce my cancer on the internet and report on my remaining life, but if Satoshi's death was scheduled, there might be some waves made, however small. For these reasons, I acted very irresponsibly to people clear to me. I am so sorry.

There were so many people that I wanted to see before I died, to say even one word of greeting to. Family and relatives, old friends and classmates from elementary and middle and high school, the mates I met in college, the people I met in the manga world, with whom I exchanged so much inspiration, the people in the anime world whose desks I sat next to, went drinking with, with whom I competed on on the same works, the mates with whom I shared good and bad times. The countless people I was able to know because of my position as a film director, the people who call themselves my fans not only in Japan but around the world, the friends I'd made via the web.

There are so many people that I want to see at least once (well there are some I don't want to see too), but if I see them I'm afraid that that the thought that "I can never see this person again" will take me over, and that I wouldn't be able to greet death gracefully. Even if I had recovered, I had very little life force left, and it took a lot of effort to see people. The more people wanted to see me, the harder it was for me to see them. What irony. In addition, my lower body was paralyzed due to the cancer spreading to my bones, and I was prone on my bed, and I didn't want people to see my emaciated body. I wanted most of the people I knew to remember me as the Satoshi that was full of life.

I'd like to use this space to apologize to my relatives, friends and acquaintances, for not telling you about my cancer, for my irresponsibility. Please understand that this was Satoshi's selfish desire. I mean, Satoshi Kon was "that kind of guy". When I envision your faces, I only have good memories and remember (your) great smiles. Everyone, thank you for all the truly great memories. I loved the world I lived in. Just the fact that I can think that makes me happy.

The many people that I met throughout my lifetime, whether they were positive or negative, have helped to shape the human being that is Satoshi Kon, and I am grateful for all of those encounters. Even if the end result is an early death in my mid 40s, I've accepted this as my own unique destiny. I've had so many positive things happen to me after all.

The thing I think about death now. "I can only say, it's too bad." Really.

However, even though I can let go of many of my irresponsible actions [by not telling people], I cannot help regretting two things. About my parents, and about Madhouse [founder] Maruyama-san.

Even though it was rather late, there was no choice but to come clean with the whole truth. I wanted to beg them for forgiveness.

As soon as I saw Maruyama-san's face when he came to see me at home, I couldn't stop the flow of tears or my feeling of shame. "I'm so sorry, for ending up like this..." Maruyama-san said nothing, and just shook his head and gripped both my hands. I was filled with thankfulness. Feelings of gratitude and joy, that I'd been lucky enough to work with this person, came over me like a landslide. It may be selfish, but I felt as though I had been forgiven in that instant.

My biggest regret is the film "Dreaming Machine". I'm worried not only about the film itself, but about the staff with whom I was able to work with on the film. After all, there's a strong possibility that the storyboards that were created with (our) blood, sweat and tears will never be seen. This is because Satoshi Kon put his arms around the original story, the script, the characters and the settings, the sketches, the music...every single image. Of course there are things that I shared with the animation director, the art director and other staff [members], but basically most of the work can only be understood by Satoshi Kon. It's easy to say that it was my fault for arranging things this way, but from my point of view I made every effort to share my vision with others. However, in my current state I can only feel deep remorse for my inadequacies in these areas. I am really sorry to all of the staff. However, I want them to understand, if only a little bit. Satoshi Kon was "that kind of guy", and, that's why he was able to make rather weird anime that was a bit different. I know this is a selfish excuse, but think of my cancer and please forgive me.

I haven't been idly waiting for death, even now I'm thinking with my weak brain of ways to let the work live even after I am gone. But they are all shallow ideas. When I told Maruyama-san about my concerns about "Dreaming Machine", he just said "Don't worry. We'll figure out something, so don't worry."

I wept.

I wept uncontrollably.

Even with my previous movies, I've been so irresponsible with the productions and the budgets, but I always had Maruyama-san figure it out for me in the end.

This time is no different. I really haven't changed.

I was able to talk to my heart's content with Maruyama-san. Thanks to this, I was able to feel, at least a little, that Satoshi Kon's talents and skills were of some value in our industry.

"I regret losing your talent. I wish that you were able to leave it for us."

If Madhouse's Maruyama-san says that, I can go to the netherworld with a little bit of self-pride after all. And of course, even without anyone else telling me this, I do feel regret that my weird visions and ability to draw things in minute detail will be lost, but that can't be helped. I am grateful from the bottom of my heart that Maruyama-san gave me the opportunity to show the world these things. Thank you, so very much. Satoshi Kon was happy as an animation director.

It was so heartbreaking to tell my parents.

I'd really intended to go up to Sapporo, where my parents live, while I was still able to, but my illness progressed so unexpectedly and annoyingly fast that I ended up calling them on the telephone from the hospital room as I was closest to death.

"I'm in the late stages of cancer and will die soon. I was so happy being born as a child to Father and Mother. Thank you."

They must have been devastated to hear this out of the blue, but I was certain I was going to die right then.

But then I came back home and survived the pneumonia. I made the big decision to see my parents. They wanted to see me too. But it was going to be so hard to see them, and I didn't have the will to. But I wanted to see my parents' faces one last time. I wanted to tell them how grateful I was that they brought me into this world.

I've been a happy person. Even though I must apologize to my wife, my parents and all the people that I love, that lived out my life a bit too faster than most.

My parents followed my selfish wishes, and came the next day from Sapporo to my house. I can never forget the first words out of my mother's mouth when she saw me lying there.

"I'm so sorry, for not bringing you into this world with a stronger body!"

I was completely speechless.

I could only spend a short time with my parents, but that was enough. I had felt that if I saw their faces, that it would be enough, and it really turned out that way.

Thank you, Father, Mother. I am so happy that I was born into this world as the child of the both of you. My heart is full of memories and gratitude. Happiness itself is important, but I am so grateful that you taught me to appreciate happiness. Thank you, so very much .

It's so disrespectful to to die before ones parents, but in the last 10 plus years, I've been able to do what I want as an anime director, achieve my goals, and get some good reviews. I do feel regret that my films didn't make a lot of money, but I think they got what they deserved. In these last 10 plus years in particular I've felt as though I've lived more intensively than other people, and I think that my parents understood what was in my heart.

Because of the visits by Maruyama-san and my parents, I feel as though I've taken a big burden off my shoulders.

Lastly, to my wife, about whom I worry the most, but who has been my support until the end.

Since that time-left pronouncement, we drowned ourselves in tears together so many times. Every day was brutal for both of us, physically and mentally. There are almost no words for it. But the reason why I was able to survive those difficult days was because of the words that you said to me right after we received the news.

"I'll be at your side [run with you] until the end."

True to those words, as though you were leaving my worries in the dust, you skillfully directed the demands and requests that came rushing towards us like a landslide, and quickly learned how to take care of your husband. I was so moved, watching you deal with things so efficiently.

"My wife is awesome."

No need to keep saying that now, you say? No no. You are even more awesome now than you ever were - I truly feel this. Even after I have died, I believe that you will send Satoshi Kon to the next world with grace. Ever since we got married, I was so wrapped up in "Work, work" that I was only able to spend some time at home after the cancer - such a shame.

But you stood close to me, you always understood that I needed to immerse myself in my work, that my talent was there. Thank you.

There are so many things, countless things, that I worry about, but everything needs an end. Lastly, to Doctor H who agreed to see me to the end in my home, even though it's something not done these days, and his wife and nurse, K-san, I would like to express my deep gratitude. Medical care in a private home is very inconvenient, but you patiently dealt with the numerous aches and pains that cancer brings on, and endeavores to make my time until the final goal called death be as comfortable as possible. I can't say how much you helped me. And you didn't just deal with this difficult and arrogant patient as if it were just your jobs, but communicated with me as human beings. I cannot say how much of a support you were to me, and how much you saved me. I was encouraged by your qualities as human beings several times. I am deeply deeply grateful.

And, this is really the last, but from shortly after I received that pronouncement in mid-May until now, I've been lucky to have the cooperation, help and mental support, both personally and in business, from 2 friends. My friend T, who has been a friend since high school and is a member of KON'Stone Inc, and producer H, I thank you both from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so much. It's hard for me with my measly vocabulary to express my gratitude adequately to you both. My wife and I have both received so much from you.

If you two hadn't been there for us, I am sure that I'd be anticipating death while looking at my wife here as she sits by my side with considerably more trepidation and worry. I am really in your debt.

And, if I may ask you for one more thing - could you help my wife send me over to the other side after my death? I'd be able to get on that flight with my mind at rest if you could do that for me. I ask this from my heart.

So, to everyone who stuck with me through this long document, thank you. With my heart full of gratitude for everything good in the world, I'll put down my pen.

Now excuse me, I have to go.

Satoshi Kon

Unsure!!

2010-03-06T19:19:00.000+05:30

“An artist has got to be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he's 'at' somewhere. You always have to realize that you're constantly in a state of becoming, you know? And as long as you can stay in that realm you'll sort of be all right.”

~Bob Dylan

Atlas Shrugged: This is John Galt Speaking

2010-03-01T18:29:00.001+05:30

Background:

Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged sold more than 500,000 copies in 2009, more than double the previous record set in 2008, according to Penguin USA. Atlas Shrugged sweeps the reader into its own world of larger-than-life characters—including the productive genius who becomes a worthless playboy and the great industrialist who doesn't know that he is working for his own destruction. The story is a mystery about a man who said that he would stop the motor of the world—and did.

John Galt is Prometheus who changed his mind. After centuries of being torn by vultures in payment for having brought to men the fire of the gods, he broke his chains—and he withdrew his fire—until the day when men withdraw their vultures.

In one of the passages, Galt says to Dagny, "… it's not that I don't suffer, it's that I know the unimportance of suffering. I know that pain is to be fought and thrown aside, not to be accepted as part of one's soul and as a permanent scar across one's view of existence."

Quote:

For twelve years you've been asking "Who is John Galt?" This is John Galt speaking. I'm the man who's taken away your victims and thus destroyed your world. You've heard it said that this is an age of moral crisis and that Man's sins are destroying the world. But your chief virtue has been sacrifice, and you've demanded more sacrifices at every disaster. You've sacrificed justice to mercy and happiness to duty. So why should you be afraid of the world around you?

Your world is only the product of your sacrifices. While you were dragging the men who made your happiness possible to your sacrificial altars, I beat you to it. I reached them first and told them about the game you were playing and where it would take them. I explained the consequences of your 'brother-love' morality, which they had been too innocently generous to understand. You won't find them now, when you need them more than ever.

We're on strike against your creed of unearned rewards and unrewarded duties. If you want to know how I made them quit, I told them exactly what I'm telling you tonight. I taught them the morality of Reason – that it was right to pursue one's own happiness as one's principal goal in life. I don't consider the pleasure of others my goal in life, nor do I consider my pleasure the goal of anyone else's life.

I am a trader. I earn what I get in trade for what I produce. I ask for nothing more or nothing less than what I earn. That is justice. I don't force anyone to trade with me; I only trade for mutual benefit. Force is the great evil that has no place in a rational world. One may never force another human to act against his/her judgement. If you deny a man's right to Reason, you must also deny your right to your own judgement. Yet you have allowed your world to be run by means of force, by men who claim that fear and joy are equal incentives, but that fear and force are more practical.

You've allowed such men to occupy positions of power in your world by preaching that all men are evil from the moment they're born. When men believe this, they see nothing wrong in acting in any way they please. The name of this absurdity is 'original sin'. That's impossible. That which is outside the possibility of choice is also outside the province of morality. To call sin that which is outside man's choice is a mockery of justice. To say that men are born with a free will but with a tendency toward evil is ridiculous. If the tendency is one of choice, it doesn't come at birth. If it is not a tendency of choice, then man's will is not free.

And then there's your 'brother-love' morality. Why is it moral to serve others, but not yourself? If enjoyment is a value, why is it moral when experienced by others, but not by you? Why is it immoral to produce something of value and keep it for yourself, when it is moral for others who haven't earned it to accept it? If it's virtuous to give, isn't it then selfish to take?

Your acceptance of the code of selflessness has made you fear the man who has a dollar less than you because it makes you feel that that dollar is rightfully his. You hate the man with a dollar more than you because the dollar he's keeping is rightfully yours. Your code has made it impossible to know when to give and when to grab.

You know that you can't give away everything and starve yourself. You've forced yourselves to live with undeserved, irrational guilt. Is it ever proper to help another man? No, if he demands it as his right or as a duty that you owe him. Yes, if it's your own free choice based on your judgment of the value of that person and his struggle. This country wasn't built by men who sought handouts. In its brilliant youth, this country showed the rest of the world what greatness was possible to Man and what happiness is possible on Earth.

Then it began apologising for its greatness and began giving away its wealth, feeling guilty for having produced more than its neighbours. Twelve years ago, I saw what was wrong with the world and where the battle for Life had to be fought. I saw that the enemy was an inverted morality and that my acceptance of that morality was its only power. I was the first of the men who refused to give up the pursuit of his own happiness in order to serve others.

To those of you who retain some remnant of dignity and the will to live your lives for yourselves, you have the chance to make the same choice. Examine your values and understand that you must choose one side or the other. Any compromise between good and evil only hurts the good and helps the evil.

If you've understood what I've said, stop supporting your destroyers. Don't accept their philosophy. Your destroyers hold you by means of your endurance, your generosity, your innocence, and your love. Don't exhaust yourself to help build the kind of world that you see around you now. In the name of the best within you, don't sacrifice the world to those who will take away your happiness for it.

The world will change when you are ready to pronounce this oath:
I swear by my Life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for the sake of mine.

Instantes (Instants)

2010-02-09T23:43:00.000+05:30

If I were able to live my life anew,

In the next I would try to commit more errors.

I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.

I would be more foolish than I've been,

In fact, I would take few things seriously.

I would be less hygienic.

I would run more risks,

take more vacations,

contemplate more sunsets,

climb more mountains, swim more rivers.

I would go to more places where I've never been,

I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans,

I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.

I was one of those people that lived sensibly

and prolifically each minute of his life;

Of course I had moments of happiness.

If I could go back I would try

to have only good moments.

Because if you didn't know, of that is life made:

only of moments; Don't lose the now.

I was one of those that never

went anywhere without a thermometer,

a hot-water bottle,

an umbrella, and a parachute;

If I could live again, I would travel lighter.

If I could live again,

I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring

and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends.

I would take more cart rides,

contemplate more dawns,

and play with more children,

If I had another life ahead of me.

But already you see, I am 85,

and I know that I am dying.

~ Jorge Luis Borges

Invictus

2010-01-19T21:56:00.000+05:30

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

~William Ernest Henley

INFORMATION METABOLISM

2010-01-17T23:12:00.001+05:30

I love the Internet. It's a great tool precisely because it is so content — and value-free. Anyone can use it for his own purposes, good or bad, big or small, trivial or important. It impartially transmits all kinds of content, one-way or two-way or broadcast, public or private, text or video or sound or data.

But it does have one overwhelming feature: immediacy. (And when the immediacy is ruptured, its users gnash their teeth.) That immediacy is seductive: You can get instant answers, instant responses. If you're lonely, you can go online and find someone to chat with. If you want business, you can send out an e-mail blast and get at least a few responses — a .002 response rate means 200 messages back (including some hate mail) for a small list. If you want to do good, there are thousands of good causes competing for your attention at the click of your mouse.

But sometimes I think much of what we get on the Internet is empty calories. It's sugar — short videos, pokes from friends, blog posts, Twitter posts (even blogs seem longwinded now), pop-ups and visualizations…Sugar is so much easier to digest, so enticing…and ultimately, it leaves us hungrier than before.

Worse than that, over a long period, many of us are genetically disposed to lose our capability to digest sugar if we consume too much of it. It makes us sick long-term, as well as giving us indigestion and hypoglycemic fits. Could that be true of information sugar as well? Will we become allergic to it even as we crave it? And what will serve as information insulin?

In the spirit of brevity if not immediacy, I leave it to the reader to ponder these questions.

ESTHER DYSON in Edge.org Annual Question
Catalyst, Information Technology Startups, EDventure Holdings; Former Chariman,Electronic Frontier Foundation and ICANN; Author: Release 2.1

Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning

2010-01-10T15:49:00.002+05:30

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.

"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.

"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"

"Not really."

"Your favorite type, then?"

"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."

"Strange."

"Yeah. Strange."

"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"

"Nah. Just passed her on the street."

She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"

Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.

"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"

No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."

No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."

"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"

"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fourteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don't you think?

Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.

- Haruki Murakami

Solitude

2010-01-10T15:00:00.002+05:30

All men, at some moment in their lives, feel themselves to be alone. And they are. To live is to be separated from what we were in order to approach what we are going to be in the mysterious future. Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone, and the only one who seeks out another. His nature -- if that word can be used in reference to man, who has "invented" himself by saying "No" to nature -- consists in his longing to realize himself in another. Man is nostalgia and a search for communion. Therefore, when he is aware of himself he is aware of his lack of another, that is, of his solitude.

The Labyrinth Of Solitude | Life And Thought In Mexico by Ocavio Paz

Telugu Quotes - 2

2009-12-26T15:19:00.001+05:30

మావి కొమ్మ చివర మధు మాస వేళ
పల్లవమెక్కి కోయిల పాడుటేల ?
పరుల తనియించుటకొ ? తన బాగు కొరకో ?
గాన మొనరింపక బ్రతుకు గడపబోకో ?

         --- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

వెన్నల మాటాడునా వెదజల్లును చల్లదనాలు
మల్లియ మాటాడునా విరబూయును పరిమళాలు
                                          --- సి.నా.రె. (ఈ థింక్)

వ్యక్తి కి బహువచనం శక్తి -- శ్రీశ్రీ

మందార మకరంద మాధుర్యమున త్రేలు
మధుపమ్ము పో(వో)వునే మదనములకు
                                      -- సీసంలో యమకంపు(:-)) సొంపు
                                               చూపిన పోతన

నటరాజ స్వామి జటాజూటి లోకి చేరకుంటె
విరుచుకు పడు సుర గంగ కు విలువేముంది ?
                                      -- సిరివెన్నల సీతరామ శాస్త్రి
                                                అబౌత్ "క్రమం"

అక్షర రూపం దాల్చిన ఒక్కో సిరా చుక్క
లక్ష మెదడ్లకు కదలిక
                                        -- సి.నా.రె.

రవి కిరణం తాకనిదే నవ కమలం విరిసేనా ?
మధుపం తను తాకనిదే మందారం మురిసేనా ?

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఊపి, ఊపి మనసునొక్కొక్క వేదన
కావ్యమౌను, మరియు గానమౌను.

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

పిల్లన గ్రోవికి నిలువెల్ల గాయాలు
అల్లన మోవికి తాకితే గేయాలు
                                 -- వేటూరి

తన మీద పడే రాళ్ళను చూసి దూరంగా పారిపోతాడు పిరికి వాడు.
ఎదుర్కుంటాడు ధైర్యవంతుదు. ఆ రాళ్ళ తొనే డుర్గం నిర్మించుకొని
రక్షణ కల్పించుకుంటాదు తెలివైన వాడు.
                                        -- యండమూరి వీరెంద్రనాథ్
                                (ళెత్ మె క్నౌ, ఇఫ్ థిస్ qఉఒతె ఇస్ ప్లగీరిజెద్)

సౌరభములేల విరజిమ్ము పుష్ప వ్రజమ్ము
చంద్రికలేల నేల వెదజల్లు చందమామ
గాడ్పేల వీచు ఏల సలిలంబు పారు
ఏల నా హృదయమ్ము ప్రేమించు నిన్ను

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

మలయ మారుతమొకటి మనిషైన రీతి
మాధుర్య రసరాశి మనిషైన రీతి
అలకలు అల్లాడ, అందాలు నడయాడ
పుడమియే తిలకించె, పులకలు జనియింప
                                       -- మోహనాకారుడైన రాముని గూర్చి
                                        మోహనమైన వర్ణన బ్య్ ఆరుద్ర (ఈ థింక్)

నేను సైతం కిళ్ళి కొట్టులొ అప్పు పెట్టాను
నేను సైతం పాత బాకీలెగుర గొట్టాను
...                                       -- జల ... రుక్...నాథ శాస్త్రి

ఆబాలగోపాలము (ఎవెర్య్ ఒనె, బొయ్స్ అంద్ ఎల్దెర్స్) ఆ బాల గోపాలుని( కృష్ణుని)
అచ్చెరువున (ఆ+చెరువు న) అచ్చెరున (అచ్చెరువు = సుర్ప్రిసె) విచ్చిన
కన్నుల జూడ ...
                                 -- వేటూరి

పొగ త్రాగని వాడు దున్నపోతై పుట్టున్
                                        -- గిరీశం ఒఫ్ గురజాడ

_టీ_ (తే) తాగని వాడు పోతుటీగై పుట్టున్
                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ

అలలకు అందునా, ఆశించిన ఆకాశం ?
కలలా కరగడమా, జీవితాన పరమార్థం ?
                                -- సిరివెన్నల సీతా రామ శాస్త్రి

గగనాల దాకా అలసాగకుంటె
మేఘాల రాగం ఇల చేరుకోదా ?
                                -- సిరివెన్నల సీతా రామ శాస్త్రి

కలికి చకోరాక్షి కి కడ కన్నుల కెంపై తోచిన
చెలువము ఇప్పుడిదేమొ చింతించరే చెలులూ
నలువున ప్రాణేశ్వరు పై నాటిన ఆ కొన చూపులు
నిలువున బెరుకగ అంటిన నెత్తురు కాదు కదా ?
                         -- అన్నమయ్య

చెలువమునేలగ చెంగటలేవని
కలతకు నెలవై నిలిచిన నెలతకు
కలలలజడికి నిద్దుర కరవై
అలసిన దేవేరి అలమేలు మంగకు ... తెలవారదేమో స్వామీ
                                           -- సిరివెన్నెల సీతారమ శాస్త్రి

నేనొక దుర్గం నాదొక స్వర్గం
అనర్గళం అనితర సాధ్యం నా మార్గం
                        --      శ్రీశ్రీ

ప్రపంచమొక పద్మవ్యూహం
కవిత్వమొక తీరని దాహం
                        --       శ్రీశ్రీ

కన్నుల కాంతులు కలువల జేరెను
మేలిమి జేరెన్ మేని పసల్
హంసల జేరెను నడకల బెడుగులు
దుర్గను జేరెను పూర్ణమ్మ
                           -- గురజాడ

మనిషి చేసిన రాయి రప్పకు మహిమ కలదని సాగి మొక్కుతు
సాటి మనిషిని కనిష్టంగాను నీచంగాను చూస్తావేల ? బేల !
దేవుడెకడో దాగెనంటూ కొండ కోనల వెతుకులాడే వేల ?
                                -- గురజాడ

మోసం, ద్వేషం, ఈర్ష, క్రౌర్యం పణాలు చాచిన పాప జగతిలొ
మానవ శవాల మంటపాలపై ప్రభుల పతాకాలెగిరే భువిలొ
రాతి విగ్రహం రక్షిస్తుందా ? పూజా మంత్రం బువ్వెడుతుందా ?
                                 -- తిలక్ (ఈ థింక్)

అసలు నిజం ఏమిటంటే, ఎవడికీ ఏమీ తెలియదు !
ఇలా ఎందుకొచ్చామో, ఇక్కడెంత సేపుంటామో
ఇక్కడినుడి వేళ్ళేదెక్కడికో, ఎల్లుండి ఏ తమాషా జరుగుంతుందో
ఎవ్వడూ చెప్ప లేడంటే నమ్మండి, చెబితే మాత్రం నమ్మకండి
                                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ

మన అఖండ భూతి, మన జాతి, మన నీతి
ఉన్నంత వరకు గాంధీ ఉండి తీరు -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

తన కంఠమున దాచి హాలహలం
తల నుండి కురిపించి గంగాజలం
మనిషి శివుడవ్వడమే గాంధీ మతం

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఎక్కడయ్యా నీ అహింస ? ఏద నీ కరుణా రిరంసా ?
చూడు దేశం ద్వేష భుగ్నం, క్షురత్ జివ్హానల విభుగ్నం
                                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ అద్ద్రెస్సింగ్ గాంధీ

హింస తోనే సృష్టి పూస్తది; హింస తోనే మార్పు వస్తది
                                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ

పుడమి తల్లికి పురిటి నొప్పులు, కొత్త సృష్టిని స్పురించె
                                -- శ్రీశ్రీ అస్సెర్తింగ్ థత్
                        చ్రేతిఒన్ అంద్ పైన్/వొఇలెంచె అరె చొంచొమితంత్.

అవనీ మాత పూర్ణ గర్భంలా ఆసిఆ ఖండం ఉప్పొంగింది
నవ ప్రపంచ యోనిద్వారం భారతం మేలుకుంటోంది
                                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ

పూల ఎదలలో పులకలు పొడిపించె భ్రమర రవం
సుప్రభాత వేదిక పై శుక పికాది కలరవం
పైరు పాపలకు జోలలు పాదే గాలుల సవ్వడి
గిరుల శిరసులను జారే ఝరుల నడల వడి అలజడి
                -- _సి.నా.రె._ ఫింద్స్ ముసిచ్ ఇన్ అల్ల్ థె అబొవె సౌంద్స్.

వాన వేలి తోని నేల వీణ మీటె నీలి నింగి పాట ...
                       -- ఠె ముసిచ్ ఇన్ రైంద్రొప్స్ ఇన్ సిరివెన్నెల వొర్ద్స్.

గగన గళము నుండి అమర గానవాహిని
జాలు వారుతోంది ఇలా అమృత వర్షిణి
                                -- సిరివెన్నెల మాటల్లొ అమృత "వర్షిణి"

శ్రీశ్రీ తాగి పారేసిన సీసాల కంపు మంకేందుకు ?
ఆయన రాసి పారేసిన కవితా గుబాలింపులుండగా !
                                         -- అజంత

రేండు శ్రీలు ధరించి; రేండు పెగ్సు బిగించి
వరలు శబ్ద విరించి; శ్రీశ్రీ కవితా విపంచి
                                         -- ఆరుద్ర

కనిష్కుడు పుట్టినా కరెక్టైన డేటేమిటి ?
విక్రామాదిత్యుని వియ్యంకుని పేరేమిటి ?
ముంతాజ్ బేగమూ ముక్కు పొడవు ఎంతేమిటి ?
రొబెర్ట్ క్లైవ్ గాడు రాసుకున్న సెంటేమిటి ?
(థిస్ ఇస్ వ్హత్ వె లేర్న్ ఇన్ హీశ్టోఋY, సయ్స్ ఒనె సొంగ్)

పల్లెటూరు, ఊరు ప్రక్క ఏరు, ఏటి ఒడ్డున వెదురుపొద
పొద చెంత పుంత, పుంతకు వెనుక మావితోట, తోట కవతల
వరిచేల గట్లు, పంట కాలువలు ... మనిషికీ, మనిషికీ
మనిషికీ, చెట్టుకీ, పిట్టకీ గట్టి చుట్టరికముందక్కడ
                                        --- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి అబౌత్ హిస్
                                                నతివె ప్లచె 'చంద్రపాలెం'

ఎన్ని సార్లు దిద్దితే ఓ చిత్రం
ఎన్ని సార్లు చెక్కితే ఓ శిల్పం
కబుర్లు చెప్పకే, ఓ కాలమా
ఎన్ని సార్లు చస్తే ఓ జీవితం
                                    -- సి.నా._రె_.

ఇక సమ భావం, సమ ధర్మం సహ జీవనమనివార్యం
తెలుసు కొనుట మీ ధర్మం ; తెలియకుంటె మీ కర్మం

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఏ వేదంబు పఠించె లూత?
భుజగంబే శాస్త్రముల్ సూచె?
తానే విద్యాభ్యసనంబొనర్చె కరి?
-- ధూర్జటి రెఫెర్రింగ్ తొ
శ్రీ కాళ హస్తి అత్తైనింగ్ మోక్ష

ఏమి చదివి పక్షులు పైకెగుర గలిగెను ?
ఏమి చదివి చేప పిల్ల ఈదసాగెను ?

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

కపి ధ్వజాంకిత సితాశ్వ రంజిత
రథ స్థిరులు కృష్ణార్జునులు
                                  -- శ్రీశ్రీ

మూయించిన ఒక వీరుని కంఠం
వేయి గొంతుకల విప్లవ శంఖం
పతిత దళిత జన రణ హూంకారం
ప్రళయ సమయ దిగ్గజ ఘీంకారం
                                 -- శ్రీశ్రీ

జన చేతన జయ కేతన విమల కాంతిలొ
దేశ మాత హర్షించే ఘర్షణ నేడే, సంఘర్షణ ఈనాడే.
                                 -- శ్రీశ్రీ

మీ నంగి పూజలకు స్వార్థ ప్రార్థనలకు మీ దేవుడు వశ్యుడు
                                 -- చలం

కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి తన బాధను అందరిలోను పలికిస్తె
శ్రీశ్రీ అందరి బాధను తనలో పలికించాడు
కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి బాధ ప్రపంచానికి బాధ
ప్రపంచపు బాధ శ్రీశ్రీ బాధ
                                 -- చలం ఇన్ "మహా ప్రస్థానం"
                  (ఈ క్నౌ, "మహా ప్రస్థానం " ఇస్ వ్రిత్తెన్ బ్య్ శ్రీశ్రీ:-))

నా మందిర గవాక్షం నుండి తొలి అరుణ స్వర్ణ కాంతి వచ్చి
నా కళ్ళను తాకినప్పుడు కళ్ళు విప్పి స్వాగతం చెబుతాను;
వేకువ గాలి వ్రేళ్ళతో నా మొగం నిమిరినప్పు చిరునవ్వు నవ్వుతాను ;
పెరటిలోనుండి క్రోత్తగా విరిసిన విభాత సుమ పరిమళం వచ్చి
పలకరిస్తే ఔనని తలూపుతాను; కానీ, గవాక్షంలోనికి రవ్వంత
ఒదిగిన మావి కొమ్మ చివర నిలిచి 'కో ' అన్న వన ప్రియారవానికి
బదులు చెప్పలేను, ఇక బదులు మాత్రం చెప్పలేను
                                        -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి అఫ్తెర్ అన్ ఒపెరతిఒన్
                                                 వ్హెన్ హె లొస్త్ హిస్ వొఇచె !

రుద్రమాంబా భద్ర కాళి
లోచనోజ్వల రోచులేవి
ఖడ్గ తిక్కన కదన కాహళ
కహ కహ ధ్వనులెక్కదమ్మ
... ఏవి తల్లీ నిరుడు కురిసిన హిమ సమూహములు
                         --- శ్రీశ్రీ చౌల్ద్ణ్త్ ఫింద్ 'స్నౌస్ ఒఫ్ యెస్తెర్యేఋ

కోటి గొంతులు నిన్ను కోరి రమ్మన్నాయి
కోటి చేతులు నిన్ను కౌగిలిస్తున్నాయి
..
గర్జించు రష్యా, గాండ్రించు రష్యా
పర్జన్య శంఖం పలికించు రష్యా
దౌర్జన్య రాజ్యం ధ్వంసించు రష్యా
                                    -- శ్రీశ్రీ

మానవాళికి నిజంగానే మంచి కాలం రహిస్తుందా ? ...
దారుణ ద్వేషాగ్నిని పెంచే దానవత్వం నశిస్తుందా ? ...
సాధుసత్వపు సోదరత్వపు స్వాధు తత్వం జయిస్తుందా ?
జడలు విచ్చిన సుడులు రెచ్చిన కడలి నృత్యం శమిస్తుందా ?
...
నిజంగానే, నిఖిల లోకం నిండు హర్షం వహిస్తుండా ?
                                    -- శ్రీశ్రీ

ఆ రాణి ప్రేమ పురాణం,
ఆ ముట్టడి కైన ఖర్చులు,
మతలబులు, కైఫీయతులు,
ఇవి కాదోయ్ చరిత్ర సారం.
                                    -- శ్రీశ్రీ

వేల తారకల నయనాలతొ నీలాకాశం విలసిల్లేన్ను
అతని అడుగులు నడిచే సవ్వడి వీచే గాలి వినిపించేను
ఆతని పావన పాద ధూళి కై అవని అణువణువు పరితపించేను
అతని రాకకై అంతరంగమే పాల సంద్రమై పరవశించేను
                                                -- సి.నా.రె.

నా ఉఛ్ఛ్వాసం గానం
నా నిశ్వాసం కవనం
                         -- సిరివెన్నెల

ఊలు దారాలతో గొంతుకురి బిగించి,
గుందెలోనుండి సూదులు గుచ్చి కూర్చీ
ముదుచుకొందురు ముచ్చట ముడుల మమ్ము
అకట ఎంత దయ లేని వారు మీ అడవారు.
                                  -- కరుణ శ్రీ "పుష్ప విలాపము".

మా వెల లేని ముగ్ధ సుకుమార మరంధ మాధురీ జీవితమెల్ల
మీకై కృశించి నశించి పోయె
                                  -- కరుణ శ్రీ "పుష్ప విలాపము".

మా యవ్వన మెల్ల కొల్లగొని ఆ పై చీపురు తొడ చిమ్మి
మమ్మాల పారవేతురు గదా, నర జాతికి నీతి యున్నదా ?
                                  -- కరుణ శ్రీ "పుష్ప విలాపము".

భరత ఖండమ్ము చక్కని పాడియావు
హిందువులు లేగ దూడలై ఏద్చుచుండ
తెల్లవారను గదుసు గొల్ల వారు
పితుకు చున్నారు మూతులు బిగపట్టి
-- చిలకమర్తి

ఋషి కథ మారే ! రసికత మీరే !!
                                     వేటూరి ఇన్ అ సొంగ్ దెస్చ్రిబింగ్
                                    "గాథేయుని (విశ్వామిత్రుని) గాథా"

త్రి(3)కాలములు నీ నేత్ర త్రయమై
చతుర్(4)వేదములు ప్రాకారములై
పంచ(5) భూతములు ముఖ పంచకమై
ఆరు(6) ఋతువులు ఆహార్యములై
ప్రకృతి పార్వతి నీతో నడచిన ఏడు(7) అదుగులే స్వర సప్తకమై
నీ ధృక్కులే అటు అష్ట(8) దిక్కులై
నీ వాక్కులే నవ(9) రసమ్ములై
నీ మౌనమే దశో(10)పనిసత్తులై ఇల వెలయ
                                                  -- వేటూరి

నిదుర మబ్బులను మెరుపు తీగవై కలలు రేపినది నీవె
బ్రతుకు వీణ పై ప్రణయ రాగమును ఆలమించినది నీవె
                                                    --    దాశరథి(?)

దధీ నవనీత క్షీరములు రుచో
దాశరథీ ధ్యాన భజన సుధా రసము రుచో
నిజముగ తెలుపు మనసా ...
నిధి చాలా సుఖమా ? రాముని సన్నిధి సేవ సుఖమా ?
                                                          -- త్యాగరాజ

అనుకున్నామని జరగవు అన్ని; అనుకొలెదని ఆగవు కొన్ని
జరిగేవన్ని మంచి కని ; అనుకోవడమే మనిషి పని
                                                         -- ఆత్రేయ

నాకు కనంబడు నానాతారకలనేక వర్ణాలనంత రోచులు
దిక్కుదిక్కునా దివ్య గీతములు, మీరే వాటికి వారసులు
                                          -- శ్రీశ్రీ ఇన్ "శైశవగీతి"

నా మరణ శయ్య నేనే పరచుకున్నాను
... ఇట నశించు నాకై చెమ్మగిల్లు నయనమ్ము లేదు

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

పసిడి వేకువ పెండ్లిండ్ల బడిన ఎవ్వరెరుగ నేర్తురు
జఠరాంధకార మృతికి

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

పాతాళ లొకంపు టిరుకు సందుల దిగబ్రాక వెరచు
గాఢాంధకార రేఖను -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఎవ్వరని ఎంతురో నన్ను,
ఏననంత లోక భీకర శోక తిమిరైక పతిని

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

చెయ్యి మరో ప్రస్తానం; తియ్యి భృహత్ ప్రాగ్ద్వారం
విప్పు మరో అధ్యాయం; తిప్పు మహత్ కౌక్షేయం
                          -- శ్రీశ్రీ

కార్మిక కర్షక జన సంఘాతంతొ కలియండి
బూర్జువాల రాజ్యంగపు బూజంతా దులపండి
భూతలాన స్వర్గపు నిర్మాతలుగా నిలవండి
                                                  -- శ్రీశ్రీ

ఎక్కడనో జనియించి పరమేస్వరుడిచ్చిన గాలి బీల్చి
వేరొక్కరి జోలికేగక ఏదొ సరోవరాలలొ గ్రుక్కెడు
నీళ్ళు గ్రొలు మరాళ కరాళ శరాగ్నులోర్చునె ?
                                                     -- కరుణ శ్రీ

మెత్తని రాయంచ గుందెలొ
క్రూర నారాచ మేరీతి గుచ్చినావు
నిండు జాబిల్లి గుండెలొ కరాళ రాహువు(?) గుచ్చినట్టు
                                                     -- కరుణ శ్రీ

లయకే నిలయమై నీ పాదం సాగాలి
మలయానిల గతి లొపల సుమబాలగ తూగాలి
                                            -- సిరివెన్నల సీతరామ శాస్త్రి

ఎముకలు కుళ్ళిన వయస్సు మళ్ళిన సోమరులారా చావండి
నెత్తురు మండె శక్తులు నిండె సైనికులారా రారండి
                                                -- శ్రీశ్రీ

కొంతమంది యువకులు పుట్టుకతొ వృధ్ధులు
                                                -- శ్రీశ్రీ

నరజాతి చరిత్ర సమస్తం పరపీడన పరాయణత్వం.
                                                -- శ్రీశ్రీ

నరజాతి చరిత్ర సమస్తం రణరక్త ప్రవాహ సిక్తం.
                                                -- శ్రీశ్రీ

రణరంగం కానిచోటు భూ-
స్థలమంతా వెదకిన దొరకదు;
గతమంతా తడిసె రక్తంతో
కాకుంటే కన్నీల్లతో.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

చల్లారిన సంసారాలూ,
మరణించిన జన సందోహం,
అసహాయుల హాహాకారం
చరిత్రలో మూలుగుతున్నవి.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

అజ్ఞ్యానపుటంధయుగంలో, ఆకలిలో, ఆవేశమలో
తెలియని ఏ తీవ్రశక్తులో నడిపిస్తే నడిచి మనుష్యులు
అంతా తమ ప్రయోజకత్వం, తామే భువి కధినాధులమని,
స్థాపించిన సామ్రాజ్యాలూ, నిర్మించిన కృత్రిమ చట్టాల్
ఇతరేతర శక్తులు లేస్తే పడిపోయెను పేక మేడలై!
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

పరస్పరం సంఘర్షించిన
శక్తులలో చరిత్ర పుట్టెను.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

... పిండారులు, థగ్గులు కట్టిరి కాలానికి కత్తుల వంతెన.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

చిరకాలం జరిగిన మోసం, బలవంతుల దౌర్జన్యాలూ,
ధనవంతుల పన్నాగాలూ ఇంకానా! ఇకపై చెల్లవు.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

ఒక వ్యక్తిని మరొక్క వ్యక్తీ, ఒక జాతిని వేరొకజాతీ,
పీడించే సాంఘిక ధర్మం ఇంకానా? ఇకపై సాగదు.
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

నైలునదీ నాగరికతలో సామాన్యుని జీవనమెట్టిది?
తాజమహల్ నిర్మాణానికి రాళ్ళెత్తిన కూలీలెవ్వరు?
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

సామ్రాజ్యపు దండయాత్రలో సామాన్యుల సాహసమెట్టిది?
ప్రభువెక్కిన పల్లకి కాదోయ్, అది మోసిన బోయీ లెవ్వరు?
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

చారిత్రక విభాతసంధ్యల మానవకథా వికాసమెట్టిది?
ఏ దేశం ఏ కాలంలో సాధించిన దే పరమార్థం?
... ఏ వెల్గుల కీ ప్రస్థానమ్మ్?
                                                         -- శ్రీశ్రీ

చుక్కలతో చెప్పాలని! ఏమని ?
ఇటు చూస్తే తప్పని, ఇక్కడ ఏకాంతంలో ఏదో, ఏదోనని ...

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

పుట్టినపట్టి నుండి పరిమళాలే లేని పూలెన్నిలేవు
గగనాన మూగి వర్షించగా లేని మేఘలెన్ని లేవు
                                                       -- సి.నా.రె.

స్వాదు సంగీత లసద్విపంచి కరమునందుంచి, జీవిత భరమ్ము వాయ
పాడు కొమ్మంటి తియ్యని ప్రణయ గీతి -- తంతులను తెంచి, మెట్లు విదిల్చి
                                                        -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి
పరవశమ్మున గొంతెత్తి పాడమనుచు
తెగిన తంబుర చేతికందిచినావు
                                        ---- రాళ్ళపల్లి అనంతకృష్ణ శర్మ

మలయు దీపము లేక, మసలు చూపులు లేక,
తెలుపు మాటే లేక, వలపు పాటే లేక
తెరువు బరువై పోయి అంధకూపపు బ్రతుకు

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

వలపు పువ్వులు వాడి, తలపు తావులు వీడి
బ్రతుకు రాలిన తోట వెతలు తేలిన చోట ...
ఏల మ్రోగించేవురా ఈ మూగ వీణ నిరాశా జీవితాన ?
                                                        -- సి.నా._రె_.

శిథిలాలయమ్ములో శివుడు లేడోయ్ ...
వాడ,వాడల వాడె, జాడ జాడల వాడె, ఇంటి ముంగిట వాడె, ఇంటిటిలో వాడె
                                                        -- అందరిలో గుడి ఉంది
                                                        అంటున్న కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

నా హృదయమందు విశ్వవీణా గళమ్ము భోరు, భోరున ఈనాడు మ్రోత వెట్టు

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

మల్లెపూల మీద పరుంటాడు, మంచి గంధం రాసుకుంటాడు, మరెందుకేడుస్తాడు ?
-- తిలక్ అబౌత్ కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఇది ద్వనింపు మన్న ద్వనింపదు,
ఇది శమించుమన్న శమించదు,
స్వాభిలాషాను వర్తి, స్వేఛ్ఛా ప్రవృత్తి, నా హృదయ వీణ

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

నా నోట, నీ మాట గానమయ్యే వేళ, నా గుండె నీవుండి మ్రోగింపా వీణ

-- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

మెరిసే మెరుపులు మురిసే పెదవుల చిరు చిరు నవ్వులు కాబోలు
ఉరిమే ఉరుములు సరి సరి నటనల సిరి సిరి మువ్వలు కాబోలు
                                                       -- వేటూరి

మువ్వలు ఉరుముల సవ్వడులై
మెలికలు మెరుపుల మెలకువలై
మేను హర్ష వర్ష మేఘమై,
మేని విసురు వాయు వేగమై
                                        -- రస ఝరులు జాలు వారే నృత్యం గూర్చి
                                                సిరివెన్నెల సీతా రామ శాస్త్రి

నటరాజా ! శత సహస్ర రవి తేజ !
నట గాయక వైతాళిక ముని జన భోజ !
దీనావన (ఇస్ థిస్ రిఘ్త్?)! భవ్య కళా దివ్య పదాంభోజ !!
                                                       వేటూరి

నింగి, నేల, గాలి వెలుగు
కొందరి సొత్తని అనరాదు, అవి
అందరి హక్కై అలరారు.
                                                      శ్రీశ్రీ

(ఠె నెక్ష్త్ థ్రీ qఉఒతెస్ అరె అద్దితిఒన్స్ బ్య్ Capt. ంఅధు)
హృదయానికి చెవులుంటె జగమంతా నాదమయం
కనగలిగిన మనసుంటె బ్రతుకే అనురాగమయం
                                                 ???

మాటల కందని భ్హావాలు మంచి మనసులు చెబుతాయి
కవితలకందని భ్హావలు కంటి పాపలే చెపుతాయి
                                                 సి.నా.రె. (?ఈ థింక్?)

పిల్లగాలి పరుగులలొ   వెల్లివిరియు గీతికలు
కొండవాగు తరగలలొ   కోటి రాగ మాలికలు
                                                 ???

Telugu Quotes - 1

2009-12-26T15:18:00.000+05:30

Collected via an internet posting (comp.lang.culture.telugu??):

కన్ను నీదని, వేలు నీదని పొడుచుకుంటె రాదా రక్తం ?
                                                -- ఆత్రేయ

కమలాసతి ముఖ కమల, కమల హిత, కమలేక్షణ, కమల ప్రియా
కమలాసన హిత, గరుడ గమన, శ్రీ కమల నాభ, నీ పద కమలమే శరణు
                                                -- పద-కమలాలతో
                                                  అన్నమాచార్య అర్చన

ధనువో
జనకుని మనమున భయమో
ధారుణి కన్యా సంశయమో
దనుజులు కల గను సుఖ గోపురమో
విరిగెను మిథిలా నగరానా
                                        -- విరిగింది, ధనువొక్కటే కాదట
                                        ఇవ్వన్నీ కూడా అంటున్న సీ. సముద్రాల

ఫెళ్ళు మనె విల్లు గంటలు గల్లుమనె, గు-
భిల్లుమనె గుండె నృపులకు, ఝల్లు మనియె
జానకి దేహమున్, నిమేషంబునందె
నయము, జయము, విస్మయము గదురా !
                                  -- కరుణ శ్రీ జంధ్యాల పాపయ్య శాస్త్రి

క్షణమే దినమై, నిరీక్షణమే యుగమై
తరుణి వంక శివధనువు వంక
తమ తనువు మరచి కనులు తెరచి చూడగ .. రామా కనవేమిరా
                         -- సి.నా.రే.

వాని జూచి మగవారలైన
మై మరచి పోయి
    మరుల్ గొనెడు
      మరోమరుడు
        మనోహరుడు
        ... రఘురాముడు ...
                          -- శ్రీశ్రీ (!)

భాగవత రామాయన గీతాది శృతి శాస్త్ర పురాణపు మర్మములన్, శివాది
షణ్మతముల గూఢములన్, ముప్పది ముక్కోటి సురాంతరంగముల భావంబుల
నెరిగి, భావ రాగ లయాది సౌఖ్యముచే చిరాయువుల్ గలిగి, నిరవధి
సుఖాత్ములై త్యాగరజాప్తులైన వారెందరో మహానుభావులు.
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

తెర తీయగ రాదా ... నాలోని మద మత్సరమను తెర తీయగ రాదా ?
                                        -- త్యాగరాజ అస్కింగ్
                                'విల్ల్ యౌ నొత్ రెమొవె థె చుర్తైన్
                                ఒఫ్ వనిత్య్ అంద్ జేలౌస్య్ ఇన్ మె(మ్య్ మింద్)'

దార సుతులు ధన ధాన్యములుందిన
సారెకు జప తప సంపద గల్గిన
శాంతమూ లేక సౌఖ్యము లేదు, సారసా దళ నయన
దాంతుని కైన, వేదాంతునికైన
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

సంతసంబు శ్రీకాంత స్వాంత సి-
ద్ధాంతమైన మార్గచింత లేని వా-
రెంత నేర్చిన, ఎంత చూసినా ఎంత వరలైనా కాంత దాసులే
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

హరిగుణ మణిమయ సరములు గళమున శోభిల్లు
భక్త కోటులిలలో చెలిమితో, తెలివితో కరుణ గల్గి
జగమెల్లను సుధా దృష్తితో బ్రోచువారెందరో మహానుభావులు
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

నీ మేను నామ వైభవంబు, నీ పరాక్రమ ధైర్యముల శాంత మానసములన్
ఈవు లను వచన సత్యమును, రఘువర, నీ యెడ సత్భక్తియు జనింపగను
దుర్మతములను కల్ల చేసి నట్టి నీ మది నెరింగి సంతతంబు గుణ
వజనానద కీర్తనము చేయు వారెందరో మహానుభవులు.
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

శివ మంత్రమునకు 'మా' జీవము
మాధవ మంత్రమునకు 'రా' జీవము
                                -- త్యాగరాజ ఎక్ష్ప్లైనింగ్ థె వివరము ఒఫ్
                                        'రామా మంత్ర

నిగమ శిరోర్థము గల్గిన నిజ వాక్కులతో, స్వర శుధ్ధముతో
సొగసు గా మృదంగ తాళము జత గూర్చి నిను సొక్క జేయు ధీరుడెవ్వడొ ?
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

న్యాయాన్యాయము తెలియును -- జగములు
మాయ మయమని తెలియును -- దుర్జన
కాయజాది షద్రిపుల జయించే
కార్యము తెలియును త్యాగరాజునికే
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

Q: స్తుతమతి యైన య్'ంధ్ర కవి ధూర్జటి పల్కుల కేల కల్గె నీ
   యతులిత మాధురీ మహిమ?
ఆ:                            హా ! తెలిసెన్, భువనైక మోహనో
   ద్-ధత సుకుమార వార వనితా జనతా ఘనతాప హార సన్-
   తత మధురాధరోదిత సుధా రస ధారల గ్రోలుంటన్ జుమీ!
                                                -- తెనాలి రామకృష్ణ కవి

చక్కని ముఖకమలంబును సదా నా మదిలో స్మరణ లేక
నే దుర్మదాంధ జనుల చేరి పరితాపములచే తగిలి నొగిలి
దుర్విషయ దురాశలను రోయ లెక సతత మపరాధియై
చపల చిత్తుడైన నన్నె ... బ్రోచునా ?
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

సతులకై కొన్నాళ్ళు ఆస్తికై,
సుతులకై కొన్నాళ్ళు ధన తతులకై
తిరిగితినయ్య త్యాగరాజ నుతా ! ఇటువంతి నన్నే ... బ్రోతువా ?
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

మానవతను దుర్లభమనుచునెంచి పరమానంద మంద లేక
మద మత్సర కామ క్రోధ లొభములకున్ దాసుదై మోస పోతి గాక
...
ఇటువంతి నన్నె ... బ్రోచునా ?
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

మొదటి కులజుడగుచు భువిని శూద్రుల పనులు సలుపుచు నుంటి గాక
నరాధములను చేరి సార హీన మతములను సధింప తాను మారు
...
ఇటువంతి నన్నె ... బ్రోచునా ?
                                                -- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

నిప్పులు చిమ్ముకుంటూ నింగికి నే నెగిరి పోతే నిబిడాశ్చర్యంతో వీరు !
నెత్తురు కక్కుకుంటూ నేలకు నే రాలి   పోతే నిర్దాక్షిణ్యంగా వీరే !!
                                                     --- శ్రీశ్రీ

వచ్చిన రామాయణాలనే మళ్ళి మళ్ళి మ్రుచ్చలించి తెచ్చే కన్నా
ఆ మోస్తరు రచనల్లో క్షేమం కద రామ కోటి, సిరి సిరి మువ్వ
                                             -- శ్రీశ్రీ
                          (థిస్ షౌల్ద్ బె కందం, బుత్ ఈ'ం మిస్సింగ్ సొమె వొర్ద్స్)

మరల నిదేల రామయణమన్నచో
        నీ ప్రపంచమెల్ల నెల్ల వేళ
దినుచున్న యన్నమే తినుచున్న దిన్నాళ్ళు
        తన రుచి బ్రతుకులు తనవి గాన
చేసిన సంసారమే చేయుచున్నది
        తనదైన యనుభూతి తనది గాన
తలచిన రామునే తలచెద నేనును
        నా భక్తి రచనలు నావి గాన
                                                --- విశ్వనాథ

మా రేడు నీవని ఏరేరి తేనా మారేడు దళములు నీ పూజకు
                                             -- వేటూరి

యమున ఎందుకె నీవు ఇంతా నలుపెక్కినావు ?
రేయి కిట్టయ్య తోని కూడావా ?
                                           -- వేటూరి (?)

వయస్సు లో వృధ్ధ శవాని
జ్ఞనం లో శైశవాని
                                           -- యండమూరి వీరేంద్రనాథ్

నాలగు కాగితాలున్న చిన్న పుస్తకం
గాలికి రెప రెప లాడుతూ విర్రవీగుతుంది
సర్వస్వాని తన లో ఇముడ్చుకొన్న
మహోత్గ్రంథం నమ్రతగా ఒత్తిగిలి ఉంటుంది
                                           -- యండమూరి వీరేంద్రనాథ్

అనుభవం అంటే టెంకిజెల్లలు, మొట్టికాయలు తినడం --బుడుగు

మీ ఆయన, చచ్చిపోయాడు కాబట్టి బతికి పోయాడు కాని,
            బతికుంటేనా చచ్చుండేవాడు
                                                   -- ???

మూడే ముళ్ళు, ఏడే అడుగులు
మొత్తం కలిపి నూరేళ్ళు
                                        --      మూడూ మాటళ్ళో పెళ్ళికి
                                                ఆత్రేయ నిర్వచనం

మనసు లేని దేవుడు
మనిషికెందుకో మనసిచ్చాడు
                                        --- మన సుకవి, మనసు కవి ఆత్రేయ

గల గలమని నవ్వకే సొగసు కరిగి పోతుంది
... నా కొంగు పట్టి లాగకు, వలపు ఒలికి పోతుంది
                                        --- కోపల్లె శివరాం

నదిలా నువు నదిచినంత మేర, భూదేవికి ఆకుపచ్చ చీర
                                        --- కోపల్లె శివరాం

ఏటి ఒడ్డున కూర్చుంటె, ఏరు గలగల మంటుంటె
ఏటి లోన మన నీడలు రెండు పెనవేసుకు పోతుంటె
ఓయమ్మో, ఓయమ్మో, ఈ జానెడు దూరం ఓపలేక పోతున్నాను
                                        --- ఆత్రేయ

అమ్మ వంటిది, అంత మంచిది, అమ్మ ఒక్కటే
                                        -- ఆత్రేయ

తీపి రాగాల కోకిలమ్మకు నల్లరంగులలమిన వాడి నేది కోరేది
కరకు గర్జనల మేఘముల మేనికి మెరుపు హంగు కూర్చిన వాడినేది ఆడిగేది
                                        -- 'నిందా స్తుతీ ఒఫ్ సిరివెన్నెల

సరిగమ పదనిని నీ దానిని
సరిగా సాగని సరి దారిని
దాగని నిగ నిగ ధగధగమని
.. దా మరి మానిని సరి దారిని
                                -- సప్త స్వరాలతో జొన్నావిత్తుల మాటల గారడి

సరి గాని దారి మారి, గదా ధారి, నీ నిగ నిగ గని,
నీ మగని సామ నిగమ గరిమ గని, నీ పాద దరి ని
పరి పరి మురళీ రవళిమ్మని సదా కోరితి నమ్మ
                -- 'మా మానిని, నీ ధామ గని నీ దాసరిని గాదా' అంటూ
        స్వరాక్షరాలలో Dr. బాల మురళి కృష్ణ చూపిన వైచిత్రి ప్రియత్వం

కొమ్మల గువ్వలు గుసగుసమనిన
రెమ్మల గాలులు ఉసురుసురనిన
అలలు   కొలనులొ గలగలమనిన
దవ్వుల వెనువు సవ్వది వినిన
నీవు వచ్చెవని నీ పిలుపె విని
కన్నుల నీరిది కలయజూచితి
                                -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

అసలే ఆనదు చూపు, ఆపై ఈ కన్నీరు,
తీరా దయ చేసిన నీ రూపు సోకదయ్యయో
                                -- దెస్చ్రిబింగ్ శబరి ఫిందింగ్ రామా
                                        ఇంఫ్రొంత్ ఒఫ్ హెర్ -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఈ గంగ కెంత దిగులు, ఈ గాలికెంత గుబులు -- కదలదయా రామా ??? నావ
                                -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి అబౌత్ గుహుడు

విరజాజి శిల పైన రాలేందుకే
మరు మల్లె కెంధూళి కలిసేందుకే
మన్సైన చినదాని మనసిందుకే - రగిలేందుకే
                                        -- మల్లాది రామకృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఒకరి కిస్తే మరలి రాదు, ఓడిపోతే మరచి పోదు
గాయమైతే మాసిపోదు, పగిలి పోతే అతుకు పడదు
                                        -- `మనసు గతి ఇంతే' అంటున్న
                                         మన-సుకవి ఆత్రేయ

బ్రాంది, విస్కి, జిన్ను, రమ్ము రకరకాల మధువులు
భార్యా భర్తలు, తల్లి పిల్లలు పలు రకాల బంధాలు
ఏదైనా నిషా తగ్గే వరకే, ఎవరైనా ఋణం తీరే వరకే
ఆపై మిగిలేదేముంది, ఖాలి సీసాలు, కాలిన బూడిదలు
                                         --- ఆత్రేయ

పచ్చని చేలా పావడ గట్టి
కొండ మల్లెలే కొప్పున బెట్టి
... కిన్నెర సాని వచ్చిందమ్మ వెన్నెల పైటేసి
                                                --- వేటూరి

మావి చిగురు తినగానే కోవిల పలికేనా ?
కోవిల గొంతు వినగానే మావి చిగురు తొడిగేనా ?
                                                --- _కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి_'స్ దిలెమ్మ

గౌతమీ జలాల్లో కొన్ని వేల విద్యుద్దీపలు
ఎవరు ఈవిడ దమ్మిల్లంలో, ఇన్ని వేల కాంతి లతాంతాలను తురిమారు ?
                                                -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి ఒర్ తిలక్ ?

ఆకాశాన ఆ మణి దీపాలే ముత్తైదువులుంచారో,
ఈ కోనేట ఈ చిరు దివ్వెల చూసి చుక్కలనుకొంటారు
                                                -- కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

ఎవరే, ఆర వేసేరమ్మా,
ఏటి ఇసుకపై వెండి చీరలూ
ఎవరే, ఓరగ విసిరేరమ్మా,
ఏటి అలలపై వెలుగుల వలలూ
                                         -- భుజంగరాయ శర్మ దెపిచ్తింగ్
                                   థె మూన్లిఘ్త్ ఒన్ థె వవెస్ ఒఫ్ థె బ్రూక్!

అంత కడివెడు పాలపై ఒ-
కింత మీగడ పేరినట్లుగ
మనకు మిగులును, గతము లోని
మంచి, అదియే సంప్రదాయము
                                        -- సి.నా.రె. దృష్టిలో సంప్రదాయం

సేవలందున దాసిగా భావమెరిగిన మంత్రిగా
వలపులందున రంభగా వనిత మెలగాలి
                                        --- చన్ వె అస్సుమె థిస్ అస్ _ఆరుద్ర_'స్
                                        తెలుగు సేత ఫొర్ 'కార్యేషు దాసీ

రాతిరి రాతిరి వస్తానన్నావు, మావ రాతి గంధం తీసి ఉంచాను
గంధమలా ఎండి పోయింది, నువు రాక అందమిల ఉండి పోయింది
                                        -- ఆత్రేయ (బసెద్ ఒన్ ఫొల్క్ సొంగ్)

కొమ్మ కొమ్మకు చిగుళ్ళాయె
గుండె నిండా గుబుల్లాయె
పువ్వు పువ్వున తుమ్మెదాయె
పొంగు వయసుతో పోరులాయె
                                --- ఆత్రేయ (బసెద్ ఒన్ ఫొల్క్ సొంగ్)

తెలిసీ వలచి విలపించుటలో, తీయదనం ఎవరికి తెలుసు
                                --- ఆత్రేయ

నీ దోవ పొడవునా కువకువల స్వాగతం
నీ కాలి అలికిడి కే మెలకువల వందనం
...
నీ చరన కిరణాలు పలుకరించితే చాలు
పల్లవించును ప్రభు పవలించు భువనాలు
                                --- సీతా రామ శాస్త్రి వెల్చొమింగ్ 'ంర్. శుణ్

చాకిరొకరిది, సౌఖ్యమొకరిదా ? సాగదింకా తెలుసుకో
                                                        -- ఆత్రేయ

ఏ దేశ సంస్కృతి అయినా ఏనాడు కాదొక స్థిర బిందువు
నైక నదీ నదాలు కలిసిన అంతస్సింధువు
                                                        --- తిలక్

అస్థిముల పంజరాలు, ఆర్తరావ మందిరాలు
ఏఎ లొకం తల్లి ! ఈట కనిపించడు కాలనేమి
                                                 --- తిలక్

పువ్వని పిలువాలంటె ఆ సొగసు ఒక్క దినం
మెరుపని పిలువాలంటె ఆ వెలుగు ఒక్క క్షణం
                        -- రాజ శ్రీ త్రన్స్లతింగ్ థె హింది వెర్సెస్
                        తుజె సూరజ్ సంఝెతో, ఇసీమె ఆగ్ హై
                        తుజె మై చాంద్ సంఝెతో, ఇసీమె దాగ్ హై

వెలుగు దుస్తులేసుకొని సూరీడు
తూర్పు తలుపు తోసుకొని వచ్చాడు
పాడు చీకటికెంత భయమేసిందో
పక్క దులుపుకొని ఒకే పరుగు తీసింది
                                        --- మల్లె మాల

కవితా సతి నొసట నిత్య నూతన రస గంగాధర తిలకం.
                                        -- శ్రీశ్రీ అబౌత్ 'తిలక్'

ఇతని శైలి శైలూషి -- నిత్య(?) ప్రజా శ్రేయోభిలాషి
                                        -- తిలక్ అబౌత్ 'శ్రీశ్రీ'

ఒక స్వప్నం, ఒక బాష్పం మెదిగిన సుగంధ ద్రవ్యం
                                        -- తిలక్ అబౌత్ 'కృష్ణ శాస్త్రీ

విస్వనాథ వైశ్వానర కీరార్చికి
వాగీశ్వరి సగం మెరిసె, సగం వడలె
                                -- తిలక్ అబౌత్ 'విశ్వనాథ సత్యనారాయనా

మన వాడే, మహా గట్టి వాడు,
మకుటం లేని మహరజయ్యే వాడు, కాని
ముసలి దాన్ని, మసక మసక కన్నుల దాన్ని,
మూల మూల ముడుచుక కూర్చున్న దాన్ని,
మనువు చేసుకోవాలన్న ఉబలాటం తో
మంచి, చేడ్డ మరచి పోయాడు, మర్యాదలను అతిక్రమించాడు
                        -- తిలక్ అబౌత్ విశ్వనాథ సత్యనారయన

మల్లెపూల మీద పరుంటాడు, మంచి గంధం రాసుకుంటాడు, మరెందుకేడుస్తాడు ?
                        -- తిలక్ అబౌత్ కృష్ణ శాస్త్రి

షేక్ స్పియర్, డాంటి, కాళిదాసూ, శంకరుడు
మార్క్సూ, మహాత్ముడు, పికాసో, సార్తే
ఎవరైనా ఇది నిరంతర నూతన పరిశోధన
సత్య సౌందర్యాన్వేషణ -- ఒక శికరారోహణ
                                                -- తిలక్

న అక్షరలు కన్నీతి ఝరులలో తడిసే దయాపరవతలు
న అక్షరలు ప్రజా శక్తులు వహించే(?) విజయ ఐరావతలు
న అక్షరలు వెన్నల్లలొ ఆడుకునే అందమైన ఆడపిల్లలు
                                                -- తిలక్

కవిత్వం అంతరాంతర జ్యోతిస్సీమల్ని బహిర్గతం చేయ్యాలి
విస్తరించాలి చైతన్య పరిధి -- అగ్ని జల్లినా, అమృతం
కురిచినా, అందం, ఆనందం దాని పరమావధి
                                                -- తిలక్

మంచు తాకి కోయిల మౌనమైన వేలల
ఆమని పాడవే హాయిగా, ...
రాలేటి పూల రాగాల తో, పూసేటి పూల గంధలతో ...
                                                        -- వేటూరి

ఎడారిలొ కోయిల,
తెల్లరనీ రేయిలా ...
పూదారులన్ని గోదారికాగ,
పాడింది కన్నీటి పాట.
                                                        -- వేటూరి

(ఫరుచురి శ్రినివస్ అద్దెద్ థెసె qఉఒతెస్ ఒఫ్ ముల్లపూడీస్ చిచ్చర పిడుగు - బుడుగు)
శిక్ష అంటే చిన్న పిల్లల్ని బళ్ళో పెట్టెయ్యడం అన్నమాట.
                                                    -- బుడుగు

ధైర్యం అంటే పోలీసుతోనూ సుబ్బలష్మితోనూ మాట్లాడాం అని అర్థం -- బుడుగు

అభద్దాలు చెప్తే ఆడపిల్లలు పుట్తార్ట. నీకు తెలుసా? నాకు తెలుసుటలే.
నిజం చెప్తే మొగపిల్లలు పుట్తార్ట. చాలా ఎక్కువ నిజం చెప్తే నాలాంటి పెంకి
భడవలు పుట్తార్ట. -- బుడుగు

పుట్తార్టడం అంటే, మనం ఎక్కడో దొరకడం అన్నమాట. అంటే దేవుడు మన్ని
తెచ్చి మా యింటో పడేస్తాడు.         -- బుడుగు

ఖాతరు చెయ్యను అనడం అంటే ససి, వాళ్ళ ముగుడితో రైలు దిగివెళ్ళిపోవడం
అన్నమాటా                                        -- బుడుగు

పెళ్ళాడుతావురా అంటే నాకు తెలీదు. కాని, మరి నేను చిన్నవాడినీ చితకవాడినీ
కానుగా అందుకని నాకు అన్నీ తెలుసుగా.                -- బుడుగు

అష్చరాబాసం ఏం కష్టం కాదులే. అన్నీ మనకి వచ్చినవే మళ్ళీ అనమంటారు.
ఓ నా మ హా సీ వా య హా సీ ధం నా మ హా ఇలాంటివి. అదంతా బావుంటుందిలే.
                                                    -- బుడుగు

ఇప్పుడు కొన్ని కార్లున్నాయనుకో అవి ముందర వేపూ వెనకాతలవేపూ ఒక్కలాఘే
ఉంటాయి. అందుకని దూరమ్నుంచి చూస్తే అలాటి కార్లు ఇటు వస్తున్నాయో అటు
పోతున్నాయో గబుక్కున తెలీదు. ఈ జడలమ్మాయీ అంతే. రెండు జడలు కదూ. ఓటి
ముందరికీ ఓటి వెనక్కీ వేసుకొంటుంది. అందుకని కొస్తుందో పోతుందో తెలీదు
దూరానికి.                                             -- బుడుగు

సంకురాతిరి అంటే సుబ్బలస్చిమి, సూరీడు, సావిత్తిరి, వాళ్ళందరూ పొద్దున్నేనూ,
సాయింతరమూనూ ముగ్గులు వెయ్యడం అని అర్థంట, గొబ్బిళ్ళు పెట్టి డానుసు
చెయ్యడంట.                                            --బుడుగు

తెలుగదేలయన్న దేశంబు తెలుగేను
తెలుగునాయకుండ, దెలుగొ కండ;
ఎల్ల బాసలందు నెరుగవే బాసాది
దేశభాషలందు దెలుగు లెస్స.
                                     -- శ్రీకృష్ణధేవరాయలు

పూజారి వారి కోడలు
తా జారగ బిండె జారి దబ్బున బడియెన్
మై జారు కొంగు తడిసిన
బాజారే తిరిగి చూసి ఫక్కున నవ్వెన్
                                -- శ్రీనాథ

ఖగపతి అమృతము తేగా
భుగభుగ మని పొంగి చుక్క భూమిని రాలెన్
పొగ చెత్తై జన్మించెను
పొగ తాగని వాడు దున్నపోతై పుట్టున్      -గిరీశం, ఇన్ కన్యాశుల్కం

అక్షయ్యంబుగ సాంపరాయని తెలుంగాధీశ, కస్తూరికా
భిక్షాదానము సేయరా, సుకవిరాడ్బ్రుందారక శ్రేణికిన్,
దాక్షారామ చళుక్య భీమవర గంధర్వాపసరోభామినీ
వక్షోజద్వయ కుంభి కుంభములపై వాసించు తద్వాసనల్
                                                -- శ్రీనాథ

భరత ఖండమ్ము చక్కని పాడియావు
హిందువులు లేగ దూడలై ఏద్చుచుండ
తెల్లవారను గదుసు గొల్ల వారు
పితుకు చున్నారు మూతులు బిగపట్టి
                                 -- చిలకమర్తి

తాలిదవరిగె విరోధ లోక దలుంటె
గాలిగె గిరియు అల్లాడ బల్లదే! రంగా !!
(విల్ల్ థె పతిఎంత్ పెర్సొన్ హవె అన్య్ ఎనెమిఎస్ ఇన్ థిస్ వొర్ల్ద్ ?
ఛన్ అ ఫిర్మ్ మౌంతైన్ బె మొవెద్ బ్య్ ఐర్ ? ).
                                                         పురందర దాస

మెర్సిడెస్సులు బెంజులెక్కిన మహరాజు
        మారుతి కారులో పోవుటెట్లు?
విగత సోడా స్కాచి సేవించు సోగ్గాడు
        కల్లు దుకాణాల కరుగు టెట్లు?
మెత్తని టిష్యూల మెరగిన దొరబాబు
        చెంబుతో చెరువుకు పోవుటెట్లు?
బ్లాండు కన్నియ బాహు బంధంబు విడద్రోచి
        ఒంటిగా నింట నిద్రించు టెట్లు?
___
అమెరికాలోని జిలుగు వెలుగుల జూసి
హంగు, పొంగులు, రంగుల నన్ని గాంచి
భరత దేశాని కే రీతి పోవ నేంచు?
డాలరుండగ రూకల కోరు నెవడు?
                             -- నాగ గొల్లకోట & రామకృష్ణ పిల్లలమఱ్ఱి

మరపు రాని బాధ కన్నా మధురమైనది లేదు
గతము తలచి వగచే కన్నా సౌఖ్యమే లేదు
అందరాని పొందు కన్నా అందమే లేదు, ఆనందమే లేదు
                                                -- సీ. సముద్రాల

తల్లీ, నిన్ను దలంచి పుస్తకము చేతంబూనితిన్, నీవు నా
యుల్లంబందున నిల్చి జృంభణముగా నూక్తులు, సుశబ్దంబు శో
భిల్లన్ జేయుము నాదు వాక్కునను సంప్రీతిన్ జగన్మోహినీ,
ఫుల్లాబ్జాక్షి, సరస్వతీ, భగవతీ, పూర్ణేందుబింబాననా
                                                -- ??

కరకు బోయడే అంతరించగా,
కవిగా ఆతడు అవతరించగా
...
నవ రస భరితం రాముని చరితం
జగతికి ఆతడు పంచిన అమృతం
                                        -- వేటూరి

భావ రాగ లయాది సౌఖ్యముచే చిరాయువుల్ గలిగి నిరవధి సుఖాత్ములై
త్యాగరాజాప్తులైన వరెందరో మహానుభావు, అందరికి వందనములు.
                                                --- సైంత్ త్యాగరాజ

APJ Kalam: Wings of Fire Dedication

2009-12-19T21:46:00.000+05:30

From Arun Tiwari's Wings of Fire:

To the memory of my parents

My Mother

Sea waves, golden sand, pilgrims’ faith,
Rameswaram Mosque Street, all merge into one,
My Mother!

You come to me like heaven’s caring arms.
I remember the war days when life was challenge and toil—
Miles to walk, hours before sunrise,
Walking to take lessons from the saintly teacher near the temple.
Again miles to the Arab teaching school,
Climb sandy hills to Railway Station Road,
Collect, distribute newspapers to temple city citizens,
Few hours after sunrise, going to school.
Evening, business time before study at night.
All this pain of a young boy,
My Mother you transformed into pious strength
With kneeling and bowing five times
For the Grace of the Almighty only, My Mother.
Your strong piety is your children’s strength,
You always shared your best with whoever needed the most,
You always gave, and gave with faith in Him.
I still remember the day when I was ten,
Sleeping on your lap to the envy of my elder brothers and sisters
It was full moon night, my world only you knew
Mother! My Mother!
When at midnight I woke with tears falling on my knee
You knew the pain of your child, My Mother.
Your caring hands, tenderly removing the pain
Your love, your care, your faith gave me strength
To face the world without fear and with His strength.
We will meet again on the great Judgement Day, My Mother!

~ APJ Abdul Kalam

A New Year Toast

2009-12-19T17:14:00.000+05:30

From Louis Schmier's blog post of the same title:

"I'll pour a quiet glass of champagne then or on 2010 January's first day and lift it to this coming year's surprises, to all the coming unawares, to the inevitable reshuffling of the deck, to the complexity of it all, to what I cannot now know, to what I cannot now guess, to what I have no clue, to what I cannot now control, to what I cannot now guarantee, to the out-of-the-blue bolt of lightning, to the unpredicted, to the unexpected, to the unfamiliar, to the without warning, to the out of nowhere, to the unforeseen, to never stepping into either the same river or class, to all the twists and turns in life's road that will keep me from falling asleep at the wheel, to the unplanned interruptions that like an earthquake will shake me from the doldrums of routine, to the as yet unknown challenges that will keep me from atrophying, and to the unanticipated adventures that will keep me questing for truer answers."

and

"But, as M. Scott Peck had once said, our shining moments are more likely to occur when we are deeply shaken from our smug comfort and complacency. After all, what else but "new" can teach me lessons from the rich experiences of everyday life, pose alternatives thoughts and feelings and actions, alter courses, transform hopelessness into hopeful, disbelief into belief, resignation into expectation, an ugly "ugh" into a beautiful "wow, "blah into spirited, unhappiness into bliss, dream into real, plod into dance, "no" into a "yes," numbness into aware, pessimism into optimism, and callousness into love? What else would keep me better focused on and moving towards my vision, as well as working my way there? What else would offer me a tool to avert being hypnotized into sleep walking into class and teaching in my sleep? What else would stimulate my mind, heart, and soul? What else would keep every fiber of my being on full alert? What else would rouse my curiosity? What else would fuel my imagination and creativity? What else would give me the chance to sow, blossom, and ripen? What else would give me an opening to become a better person? What other occasions would be as exciting, adventurous, enriching, satisfying, meaningful, and significant?"

So, will you raise your glass with me? Here's to the wondrous blessings of discomforting serendipity in the coming New Year! See you and talk to you all in 2010! May you each be joyful and blessed in the inevitable coming unknowns of the New Year!!"

Romain Rolland: Today

2009-12-15T19:10:00.003+05:30

Be reverent before the dawning day. Do not think of what will be in a year, or in ten years. Think of to-day. Leave your theories. All theories, you see, even those of virtue, are bad, foolish, mischievous. Do not abuse life. Live in to-day. Be reverent towards each day. Love it, respect it, do not sully it, do not hinder it from coming to flower. Love it even when it is gray and sad like to-day. Do not be anxious. See. It is winter now. Everything is asleep. The good earth will awake again. You have only to be good and patient like the earth. Be reverent. Wait. If you are good, all will go well. If you are not, if you are weak, if you do not succeed, well, you must be happy in that. No doubt it is the best you can do. So, then, why will? Why be angry because of what you cannot do? We all have to do what we can. . . . Als ich kann."
You are a vain fellow. You want to be a hero. That is why you do such silly things. A hero! ... I don't quite know what that is: but, you see, I imagine that a hero is a man who does what he can. The others do not do it.
One makes mistakes; that is life. But it is never a mistake to have loved.
No one ever reads a book. He reads himself through books, either to discover or to control himself. And the most objective books are the most deceptive. The greatest book is not the one whose message engraves itself on the brain, as a telegraphic message engraves itself on the ticker-tape, but the one whose vital impact opens up other viewpoints, and from writer to reader spreads the fire that is fed by the various essences, until it becomes a vast conflagration leaping from forest to forest.
Never do I hesitate to look squarely at the unexpected face that every passing hour unveils to us, and to sacrifice the false images of it formed in advance, however dear they may be. In me, the love of life in general predominates over love of my own life (that, indeed, would never have sufficed to bear me up). May life herself speak! However inadequate I may be in listening to her, and in repeating her words, I shall try to record them, even if they contradict my most secret desires. In all that I write, may her will, not mine, be done!

Pain

2009-12-15T18:54:00.001+05:30

People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain. ~Jim Morrison

Lost Love

2009-12-15T18:51:00.000+05:30

How, when I once was so happy, can I suddenly be so sad,

How did I end up by losing, that special person I had,

How can a pain insubstantial, hurt more than if I did bleed,

How do I learn to cope with, not having she whom I need.

Why do I dwell on the memories, rather than looking ahead,

Why does my mind keep replaying, so much she did and she said,

Why does a place once so special, now seem so lonely and bare,

Why do I still wake each morning, hoping that she will be there.

Where is my reason and logic, why am I now so obsessed,

Where is the wry sense of humour, I know that I once possessed,

Where is my passion for living, where is my courage and strength,

Where are the plans for the future, I had once made at great length.

Who has the words that will help me, help me get out of this hole,

Who can help me to recover, get the heart back which she stole,

Who can put me on the right track, who can help me find the way,

Who can guide me from the darkness, back to the light of the day.

What is the point of emotion, why does it torture us so,

What is the purpose it's serving, dearly I wish I did know,

What is the answer I'm seeking, is it one I'll ever find,

What can take up my attention, putting her out of my mind.

When will the hurting be over, when will the new dawn appear,

When will I stop all the dreaming, wishing that she could be near,

When will the future inspire me, will I be free of the past,

When will I put her behind me, and get my life back at long last.

[Source:http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977129052]

The 48 Laws of Power

2009-10-28T21:11:00.000+05:30

The 48 Laws of Power is a 1998 book by Robert Greene. The book shares thematic elements with Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince and has been compared to Sun-Tzu's classic treatise The Art of War.

The Laws

Law 1 Never Outshine the Master
Law 2 Never put too Much Trust in Friends, Learn how to use Enemies
Law 3 Conceal your Intentions
Law 4 Always Say Less than Necessary
Law 5 So Much Depends on Reputation. Guard it with your Life
Law 6 Court Attention at all Cost
Law 7 Get others to do the Work for you, but Always Take the Credit
Law 8 Make other People come to you, use Bait if Necessary
Law 9 Win through your Actions, Never through Argument
Law 10 Infection: Avoid the Unhappy and Unlucky
Law 11 Learn to Keep People Dependent on You
Law 12 Use Selective Honesty and Generosity to Disarm your Victim
Law 13 When Asking for Help, Appeal to People's Self-Interest, Never to their Mercy or Gratitude
Law 14 Pose as a Friend, Work as a Spy
Law 15 Crush your Enemy Totally
Law 16 Use Absence to Increase Respect and Honor
Law 17 Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability
Law 18 Do Not Build Fortresses to Protect Yourself. Isolation is Dangerous
Law 19 Know Who You're Dealing with. Do Not Offend the Wrong Person
Law 20 Do Not Commit to Anyone
Law 21 Play a Sucker to Catch a Sucker. Seem Dumber than your Mark
Law 22 Use the Surrender Tactic: Transform Weakness into Power
Law 23 Concentrate Your Forces
Law 24 Play the Perfect Courtier
Law 25 Re-Create Yourself
Law 26 Keep Your Hands Clean
Law 27 Play on People's Need to Believe to Create a Cultlike Following
Law 28 Enter Action with Boldness
Law 29 Plan All the Way to the End
Law 30 Make your Accomplishments Seem Effortless
Law 31 Control the Options: Get Others to Play with the Cards you Deal
Law 32 Play to People's Fantasies
Law 33 Discover Each Man's Thumbscrew
Law 34 Be Royal in your Own Fashion: Act like a King to be treated like one
Law 35 Master the Art of Timing
Law 36 Disdain Things you cannot have: Ignoring them is the best Revenge
Law 37 Create Compelling Spectacles
Law 38 Think as you like but Behave like others
Law 39 Stir up Waters to Catch Fish
Law 40 Despise the Free Lunch
Law 41 Avoid Stepping into a Great Man's Shoes
Law 42 Strike the Shepherd and the Sheep will Scatter
Law 43 Work on the Hearts and Minds of Others
Law 44 Disarm and Infuriate with the Mirror Effect
Law 45 Preach the Need for Change, but Never Reform too much at Once
Law 46 Never appear Perfect
Law 47 Do not go Past the Mark you Aimed for; In Victory, Learn when to Stop
Law 48 Assume Formlessness

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. (On Joy and Sorrow)

2009-10-24T23:46:00.004+05:30

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

~Khalil Gibran

Yesterday I Lived Bewildered

2009-10-24T23:28:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I lived bewildered, in illusion. But now I am awake, flawless and serene, beyond the world. From my light the body and the world arise. So all things are mine, or nothing is.

- Ashtavakra Gita

Simplicity

2009-10-21T19:54:00.001+05:30

That simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. What we meant by that was when you start looking at a problem and it seems really simple with all these simple solutions, you don't really understand the complexity of the problem. And your solutions are way too oversimplified, and they don't work. Then you get into the problem, and you see it's really complicated. And you come up with all these convoluted solutions. That's sort of the middle, and that's where most people stop, and the solutions tend to work for a while. But the really great person will keep on going and find, sort of, the key, underlying principle of the problem. And come up with a beautiful elegant solution that works.

- S. Jobs (in "The Perfect Thing" by Steven Levy, pg. 67-68)

Computer

2009-10-21T19:51:00.002+05:30

A computer is like a violin. You can imagine a novice trying first a phonograph and then a violin. The latter, he says, sounds terrible. That is the argument we have heard from our humanists and most of our computer scientists. Computer programs are good, they say, for particular purposes, but they aren't flexible. Neither is a violin, or a typewriter, until you learn how to use it.

- M. Minsky (in "Why Programming Is a Good Medium for Expressing Poorly-Understood and Sloppily-Formulated Ideas"

Communicating

2009-09-28T23:40:00.003+05:30

We assume the first rule of communication is, "Communicate so that you are understood." It's not. The first rule is, "Communicate so that you cannot be misunderstood."

The first 15 words are as important as the next 1500. Give listeners a compelling reason to listen, but without giving away your ending. Like audiences for movies, listeners lose interest in a story when they know its ending.

Once you open with a strong lead and provide some detail, you need to jump-start it with the next lead. Reclaim their attention. ("But wait - there's more!" "But the best part is what happened next...") This prompts the audience to rise up and ask, "Now what?"

Most impressions used to be made face-to-face. Now with email, your communication skills are like your appearance. Clarity becomes more important as time has become more valuable. Ambiguity is expensive. Power comes from the words of the communicator, and the most potent words are those that are expressed succinctly and vividly. Those who can express themselves in words that cannot be misunderstood have more power and more value.

Make yourself clearer and people will think you are an expert.

All good stories have a hero, and two other key elements:
1. A serious challenge.
2. A hero dealing with the challenge and learning something as a result.
But make sure you put the audience, not you, in the hero's shoes.
People identify with themselves. They want solutions to their problems. They are interested in making their own lives better.

Simplify. What we want is certainty and simplification gives us that. Less options.

Constantly edit your story.

Find your message, keep it simple, and repeat it often.

Whatever you write, read it aloud. Edit. Revise every memo and revise it again.

Advance just one strong argument. You cannot say too little. Get your listener's attention first with that one argument, then wait for them to ask more.

Don't say "solutions". That's plural. People want one.

Your friend tells you an unfunny joke. You laugh anyway. That's natural. You're being kind.
Same thing happens when you send someone a clever self-promotion, encouraged by the people who laugh out of manners. So you keep trying the gimmick.
Same thing happens when you tell a joke in a presentation.
False consensus effect: assuming others agree with us when they do not.
Many people feel uncomfortable with your implication: that they lack sophistication, are easily fooled, and may even be frivolous.
A gimmick also makes it appear that you have nothing important to say, so you are relying on bad puns, word play, and tricks instead.

- From Sivers notes on YouInc (http://sivers.org/book/YouInc).

Goal of An Essay

2009-09-24T23:24:00.001+05:30

"I think the goal of an essay should be to discover surprising things. That's my goal, at least. And most surprising means most different from what people currently believe. So writing to persuade and writing to discover are diametrically opposed. The more your conclusions disagree with readers' present beliefs, the more effort you'll have to expend on selling your ideas rather than having them. As you accelerate, this drag increases, till eventually you reach a point where 100% of your energy is devoted to overcoming it and you can't go any faster. It's hard enough to overcome one's own misconceptions without having to think about how to get the resulting ideas past other people's. I worry that if I wrote to persuade, I'd start to shy away unconsciously from ideas I knew would be hard to sell. When I notice something surprising, it's usually very faint at first. There's nothing more than a slight stirring of discomfort. I don't want anything to get in the way of noticing it consciously." ~Paul Graham

Dirac Anecdotes

2009-09-17T12:58:00.003+05:30

Paul Dirac received the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1933 at the age of 31.
That proves his mettle and genius.

There are several interesting anecdotes related to Dirac. I've tried to capture a few of them.

Logic and precision
Dirac was so unusual in the logic and precision of his interaction with the world, both in and out of physics, that legions of "Dirac stories" have become attached to him and have acquired a life of their own. Often these stories revolve around Dirac saying exactly what he meant and no more. Once when someone, making polite conversation at dinner, commented that it was windy, Dirac left the table and went to the door, looked out, returned to the table and replied that indeed it was windy. It has been said in jest that his spoken vocabulary consisted of "Yes", "No", and "I don't know".
Dirac on Dostoevski
Once Peter Kapitza, the Russian physicist, gave Dirac an English translation of Dostoevski's Crime and Punishment.
"Well, how do you like it?" asked Kapitza when Dirac returned the book.
"It is nice," said Dirac, "but in one of the chapters the author made a mistake. He describes the Sun rising twice on the same day." This was his one and only comment on Dostoevski's novel.
Clarity
Dirac's writing was famous for its clarity and simplicity. When Niels Bohr was writing a scientific paper - with many hesitations and redraftings, as was his custom, Bohr stopped: "I do not know how to finish this sentence." Dirac replied: "I was taught at school that you should never start a sentence without knowing the end of it."
It's not a question
At the quesiton period after a Dirac lecture at the University of Toronto, somebody in the audience remarked: "Professor Dirac, I do not understand how you derived the formula on the top left side of the blackboard."
"This is not a question," snapped Dirac, "it is a statement. Next question, please."

Six Rules of Writing

2009-08-19T14:22:00.001+05:30

George Orwell’s six elementary rules (“Politics and the English
Language”, 1946):

Never use a metaphor, simile or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print (see metaphors).
Never use a long word where a short one will do.
If it is possible to cut out a word, always cut it out.
Never use the passive where you can use the active.
Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent .
Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous

Orhan Pamuk On Writing

2009-08-10T22:20:00.001+05:30

The question we writers are asked most often, the favorite question, is: Why do you write? I write because I have an innate need to write. I write because I can’t do normal work as other people do. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write. I write because I am angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can partake of real life only by changing it. I write because I want others, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all life’s beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but—as in a dream—can’t quite get to. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.
~ "My Father's Suitcase", Nobel Prize for Literature lecture, December 7, 2006

Excerpts: Fahrenheit 451

2009-08-06T23:03:00.002+05:30

There was a silly damn bird called a Phoenix back before Christ: every few hundred years he built a pyre and burned himself up. He must have been first cousin to Man. But every time he burnt himself up he sprang out of the ashes, he got himself born all over again. And it looks like we're doing the same thing, over and over, but we've got one damn thing the Phoenix never had. We know the damn silly thing we just did. We know all the damn silly things we've done for a thousand years, and as long as we know that and always have it around where we can see it, some day we'll stop making the goddam funeral pyres and jumping into the middle of them. We pick up a few more people that remember, every generation.

Some day the load we're carrying with us may help someone. But even when we had the books on hand, a long time ago, we didn't use what we got out of them. We went right on insulting the dead. We went right on spitting in the graves of all the poor ones who died before us. We're going to meet a lot of lonely people in the next week and the next month and the next year. And when they ask us what we're doing, you can say, We're remembering. That's where we'll win out in the long run. And some day we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest goddamn steam-shovel in history and dig the biggest grave

On Writing

2009-08-02T00:06:00.002+05:30

I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

~Speech at the Nobel Prize Banquet after receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature (10 December 1950) by Faulkner

To Strive, To Seek....

2009-07-29T12:27:00.002+05:30

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
~ from "Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Be so good they can't ignore you

2009-07-19T11:41:00.002+05:30

“When people ask me how do you make it in show business or whatever, what I always tell them — And nobody ever takes note of it ‘cuz it’s not the answer they wanted to hear. What they want to hear is here’s how you get an agent, here’s how you write a script, here’s how you do this — But I always say, “Be so good they can’t ignore you.” If somebody’s thinking, “How can I be really good?”, people are going to come to you. It’s much easier doing it that way than going to cocktail parties.”

-Steve Martin.

From his autobiography:

I did stand-up comedy for eighteen years. Ten of those years were spent learning, four years were spent refining, and four were spent in wild success. My most persistent memory of stand-up is of my mouth being in the present and my mind being in the future: the mouth speaking the line, the body delivering the gesture, while the mind looks back, observing, analyzing, judging, worrying, and then deciding when and what to say next. Enjoyment while performing was rare—enjoyment would have been an indulgent loss of focus that comedy cannot afford. After the shows, however, I experienced long hours of elation or misery depending on how the show went, because doing comedy alone onstage is the ego's last stand.

My decade is the seventies, with several years extending on either side. Though my general recall of the period is precise, my memory of specific shows is faint. I stood onstage, blinded by lights, looking into blackness, which made every place the same. Darkness is essential: If light is thrown on the audience, they don't laugh; I might as well have told them to sit still and be quiet. The audience necessarily remained a thing unseen except for a few front rows, where one sourpuss could send me into panic and desperation. The comedian's slang for a successful show is "I murdered them," which I'm sure came about because you finally realize that the audience is capable of murdering you.

Stand-up is seldom performed in ideal circumstances. Comedy's enemy is distraction, and rarely do comedians get a pristine performing environment. I worried about the sound system, ambient noise, hecklers, drunks, lighting, sudden clangs, latecomers, and loud talkers, not to mention the nagging concern "Is this funny?" Yet the seedier the circumstances, the funnier one can be. I suppose these worries keep the mind sharp and the senses active. I can remember instantly retiming a punch line to fit around the crash of a dropped glass of wine, or raising my voice to cover a patron's ill-timed sneeze, seemingly microseconds before the interruption happened.

I was seeking comic originality, and fame fell on me as a by-product. The course was more plodding than heroic: I did not strive valiantly against doubters but took incremental steps studded with a few intuitive leaps. I was not naturally talented—I didn't sing, dance, or act—though working around that minor detail made me inventive.

I was not self-destructive, though I almost destroyed myself. In the end, I turned away from stand-up with a tired swivel of my head and never looked back, until now. A few years ago, I began researching and recalling the details of this crucial part of my professional life—which inevitably touches upon my personal life—and was reminded why I did stand-up and why I walked away.

In a sense, this book is not an autobiography but a biography, because I am writing about someone I used to know. Yes, these events are true, yet sometimes they seemed to have happened to someone else, and I often felt like a curious onlooker or someone trying to remember a dream. I ignored my stand-up career for twenty-five years, but now, having finished this memoir, I view this time with surprising warmth. One can have, it turns out, an affection for the war years.

Disneyland Was My Versailles

In the summer of 1955, Disneyland opened in Anaheim, California, on a day so sweltering the asphalt on Main Street was as soft as a yoga mat. Two-inch headlines announced the event as though it were a victory at sea. A few months later, when a school friend told me that kids our age were being hired to sell Disneyland guidebooks on weekends and in the summer, I couldn't wait. I pedaled my bicycle the two miles to Disneyland, parked it in the bike rack—locks were unnecessary—and looked up to see a locomotive from yesteryear, its whistle blowing loudly and its smokestack filling the air with white steam, chugging into the turn-of-the-century depot just above a giant image of Mickey Mouse rendered in vibrantly colored flowers. I went to the exit, told a hand-stamper that I was applying for a job, and was directed toward a souvenir stand a few steps inside the main gate. I spoke with a cigar-chomping vendor named Joe and told him my résumé: no experience at anything. This must have impressed Joe, because I was issued a candy-striped shirt, a garter for my sleeve, a vest with a watch pocket, a straw boater hat, and a stack of guidebooks to be sold for twenty-five cents each, from which I was to receive the enormous sum of two cents per book. The two dollars in cash I earned that day made me feel like a millionaire.

Guidebooks were sold only in the morning, when thousands of people poured through the gates. By noon I was done, but I didn't have to leave. I had free admission to the park. I roamed through the Penny Arcade, watched the Disneyland Band as they marched around the plaza, and even found an "A" ticket in the street, allowing me to choose between the green-and-gold-painted streetcar or the surrey ride up Main Street. Because I wisely kept on my little outfit, signifying that I was an official employee, and maybe because of the look of longing on my face, I was given a free ride on the Tomorrowland rocket to the moon, which blasted me into the cosmos. I passed by Mr. Toad and Peter Pan rides, toured pirate ships and Western forts. Disneyland, and the idea of it, seemed so glorious that I believed it should be in some faraway, impossible-to-visit Shangri-la, not two miles from the house where I was about to grow up. With its pale blue castle flying pennants emblazoned with a made-up Disney family crest, its precise gardens and horse-drawn carriages maintained to jewel-box perfection, Disneyland was my Versailles.

From Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life by Steve Martin.

Loving in truth, and fain in verse

2009-07-16T18:45:00.001+05:30

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;
Invention, Nature's child, fled stepdame Study's blows;
And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,
"Fool," said my muse to me, "look in thy heart and write."
- Sir Philip Sidney (1554-11-30 – 1586-10-17)

Good and Bad Research

2009-07-02T20:48:00.000+05:30

It's much better to go for the thing that's exciting. But the question of how you know what's worth working on and what's not separates someone who's going to be really good at research and someone who's not. There's no prescription. It comes from your own intuition and judgment.

-- BarbaraLiskov in CACM July 2009 issue