Waka Waka

Waka Waka

Talking of my worldpeace project
(the self-styled one, lest you forget)
yesterday i watched the cardinal of manila
bein' interviewed on the tella.

while he was answering questions
quite astutely
displaying an intention
to be progressive
championing rights
quite impressive
already.

nevertheless
it behoves one to mention
that the questions asked
were bang on target
i'm sure even Margaret
(from the days of Maggie)
would've agreed
'tis time to rein in
this breed.

which brings me to my other alma mater
not the catholic school
(you phools) wink emoticon
but the church of england-
-my college (where i gained a bit of knowledge)
-Stephen's.

The point being made
is that it's about time
for the non-pagan world
to call a spade a spade:
while it might be high science to say
that mary was true in her own way
'tis quite another matter
to force one's will
on populations
to not take the pill
or use rubber
or whatever.
(As they apparently do in the Philippines
But not in India and elsewhere, those philistines!)

And on top of that
to force
the flock
to not divorce.
-Chilling.

so since we already have
a whole lot of global conversation/s
on state/s of nation/s
and opinions
in the books of human rights
-figuratively speaking.

its now possible for the so-called
christian world
to come together
and recognize the realm/s
Of Darkness Visible.

that's outer-space to you:
-UV rays and spectrum, broadband and the lectern/s
from which natural resources are debated.

how these arguments play out
would then be a good shout-out
to the administrative world
to do its job
without fear or fervour.

This too shall pass
into the swirled tinsel-way:
we're humans.
human rights are in our DNA

And these corrections might be made
by a greenish thought
in a greenish shade.

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Lads

Lads

hear, hear, all ya crowd
zoomin' in
to proclaim loud
once again
one's views on a governmental scheme
which only serves
to feed a team:

its called
LADS
its here in india
(egad, egad)
(as in cringe, cringe)

- all it does is
push to the fringe
all the work
meant for a legislator
while the holder of the seat
invests all their time and energy, goodwill and zeal
to oversee
the doling out of moolah
(legally, with criteria, and transparently)
for works be done
in the micro region
for
what
the state administration should be doin':

led by proper consultations
- also known
as
effective local government
is what should be happening
instead.

a small road here, a bridge there, or a culvert that might need repair.
these are the things that this scheme entails
keeping legislatures occupied with micro trails.

justified mainly by the honest MPs (and MLAs)
who need to stay in touch
with the people
without spending money
even if nobody's being selective
or getting predictive
about who gets these little contracts.

On two counts, i've always rejected this scheme:
it's the first big hindrance to pushing the local government theme
plus
when it comes to within
political parties
it puts the
sitting member
at an odd sort of advantage
over other types of candidates
who speak to and for the mass
but whose troops cannot afford
to be the volunteer class.

time to do away
with the Local Area Development Scheme!

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Of Garb

From a recent Facebook post of mine...and posted here to mark International Women's Day.

Of Garb

oh well
it seems to be
world women's day
and so i feel obliged to say
a thing or two
on this forum
without much thought
or, for that matter, decorum
since i could spout these lines
in all states of theme and dream
defined by choices
made
that might appear extreme
to some.

there's this word that's been echoing around
mindsets, mindsets
-the rallies abound.
and that's the Mindset
-the centrepiece
across races, climes and gods:
humans' attitudes
towards their bods.

scientifically (and non-judgementally) speaking
bodies are shells
with no subjective value/s attached
to how they're thought of, looked at, or, you know, watched.

However, when these things start to infringe
upon the body's movements, its comfort and things
such as violation of its space and parts
-that's when societies start
to play their role.

In the areas where i live and roam
i've (since childhood), seen people, not far from my home
walking around in scanty cloth
both men and women
-without a thought.
no divine elevation of any gender
-just matter-of-fact weather-defender-like
clothing.

One has seen this transform over the decades
to a need for garments over time
primarily to counter and to meet
the influx of the industrial fleet.

alas, that inescapable middle-class
(of which, no doubt, one has been a part
-On certain counts)
calls the shots
for what's normal to wear.
(meanwhile
the poorest and richest have sartorial notes and elements to compare
-thankfully).
(Of which, too, one is a part:
Rankfully, the people's princess
and field marshall
of one's thoughts):

why does the wearing of revealing clothes
by people
cause people
to be offended
in modern society?

Because,
net-net
it also implies
that if a person
is (even if beyond the person's will)
titillated
by the other's presence
-then what?
Then, the extraneous power equation
between the two individuals
plays out.

This tacit understanding
dictates how people dress.
And if its the Market
that determines your address,
then it had better be one
that supports attire
that relegates male chauvinism
to the appropriate pyre.

But now to talk
non-cynically
of aspects
of some
so-called tribal societies
and attitudes towards
sex:

not bought, but free and fair
(read Paraja, there's an English translation),
then compare
the situation with those
who struggle
for jobs
to get married
so that they can have sex
even if it means adding to the population
in a largely overpopulated-by-human-beings-world.

Hasn't the planet arrived at an impasse
where its time to raise a glass
(and a policy-structure)
in favour
of the non-reproducing class
Especially when a likely side-effect
would be a safer world
for the rest of the mass?

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

East Calcutta Wetlands, written on 17th May, 2002

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Greetings on the occasion of World Wetlands Day!

Today, i choose to upload a poem i wrote after having made a field visit to the East Calcutta Wetlands, then on the outskirts of Calcutta, as a part of a workshop connected to India's National Biodiversity Strategy and Action Plan-making process.

This was emailed to colleagues, and i now share it on this blog. Enjoy!

EAST CALCUTTA WETLANDS

Casting about for conversation
I vote in
Fish.
Fancy lights and fashion
Chandeliers and passion
Reflect, deflect
The river and the glass.
Clink, drink and make no haste
Here unfolds the tale
of this repast.

Fish and mustard
Macher jhol
Cooked to perfection
Bowl for bowl.
Fresh and juicy
Caught this evening.
Well caught, well caught
Well, you could sneak a peek

Why, where are they found?
Where do they swim?
Which creek?
(Visions of crystalline blue,
I'll wager,
Danced past those feasting eyes.
Charmed assembly lines of carp
                            and other fins
Swished and swam
past bulrushes
beneath rainbows
then obligingly into a shimmering net
perhaps a can.)

About to shoot an illusion
I rope in
Facts.
Fish-food and nutrients
Possible traces of pollutants
Chew, eschew
The water and the sewage.
Think, link and bridge the gap.
Recycled nutrients
From crap to crap.
Acres and acres
Four feet deep.
Cultivating fish
Often losing sleep.
Gaurd-houses on stilts
Bamboo watch towers
Murky silence neath murky stars.

Well, you could sneak a peek
Why, i'll stick to the menue*
Glad they recycle nutrients
Far from this venue.

*(sic)

by V. Shruti Devi, written 2002.

3rd Feb., N.B.: One edit made by way of the *

Note for readers

The environmental fantasy, Creatures of the Current, that i wrote in 1999, and that was on this blog for a few years, is now off the blog, and is an eBook on Kindle, Amazon.
Do surf to it!
More writings on this blog soon.

Cheers,
-shruti


From V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Book of Radiations

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

much-hyped sacred geometry
so-called multi-dimensional shapes
expand, contract, disperse
fusion
fission
and then some.

gems in the lotus
buildings on fire
and smoke in the air.

airplanes join the no-fly zone
theories
of who, why, where

there's a spaceship
out
beyond the heliosphere
or somewhere
about to leak
into another beyond.

sa re gamma
hai accha?

are the aliens talking to us again
perhaps those
with that vision
can discern things
in the spectrum
- the broadbad
one alluded to
~ 17 yrs ago.
[a cycle in a kalachakra]

that {spectrum}
and spirulina
and sungazing
alternative energy

this present
i sit here
with my aerial view of treetops
{the movie Avataar comes close}

time to spin
some more yarns
retrospective butterfly-like
and monarch.
and mind-controlled.
like all creatures

here somewhere near the silk route
{fourteen years of earthly exile
could have led
the peripatetic/s
this far.
-the Buddha.}
and inter-galactics deeper

in search of crystals, plastic, anything, nothing
this might be the highly-evolved
garbage dump of the galaxies
housing a zillion creatures
that were all once gadgets
that have morphed
into DIYs

no incinerators
and so
the garden of even
pre-earthly frequencies
abounds

a possible explanation
for why
the aliens
might want to contact us soon.
and also for why
now.

is that what science and the law of karma etc.
are doing.
a football, a planet, a star-system

bend it.
that's
geometry.

chakras generate matter
high frequencies
of thoughtwaves
resound
and convert
to pulsating microns
orsomesuchthing
and the earthlab thrives.

what thinkest thou
and thine?

Web

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Have launched
a new website
into
orbit.

www.shrutidevi.in

To read, to forward,
and to spiral back
if you please.

Specimens of Synchronicity

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

i wish 

to imagine

that

meteors

of aeons ago

brought us here

from 

everywhere

which might be

nowhere.

scientifically captured

waves of light

and force-fields

and other energies

- we became 

Human.

Sort of.

Compressed in our cell-data

rest memories

transmitted

galaxy-wide

at the least.

A Cause.

Multiple effects

at multiple places.

Coincidental action.

The theory of synchronicity

creating waves

of increduility.

And so we worship rocks.

From mountain to mountain.

From dish-antennaed peacock-tails

to drone-birds of the here-and-where.

i am that specimen

that dreams 

of being

the logical princess 

of the galaxy

for these 

and other reasons.

The supreme intelligence

and its share

of eccentric planets.

Keeping traditions

alive,

m'lords, m'ladies and all other concoctions.

With great respect,

no doubt.

Peace.

Avataars

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Avataars is the title i've just given, (right now, in 2014!), to this poem that i wrote in 1998 (on the 20th of November around the time of the Leonid meteor showers).

Heard and dreamt of Meteor Showers
And waited for the storm
which did not reach.
Not here.
But they say
"There's another round
of madness
on it's way.
Be there.
Meanwhile, gaze at the serene purple
Of a safe and hollow night..."
I'll float on starlight yet
and dart as heaven darts
In the cunning guise
Of elemental beings...
But Heaven cannot hide for long
Nor don strange mantles for sport that does not end.

-shruti

A Short Play entitled No Interpretation Required

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

This is my poetry website. But in a small departure form the normal, i'm posting here, today, a short play i wrote about two years ago, broadly based on real-life.

No Interpretation Required
A short play by V. Shruti Devi

No Interpretation Required: A short play by V. Shruti Devi

Characters: An Australian man, Mark, in his late forties who is a musician; An Indian woman, Ruby, in her late thirties who is an activist; Seven cricket commentators; A group of cricket players

Scene: Half the stage is visible. A badly-lit, untidy room somewhere outside Brisbane. An old desktop computer is half-buried in the mess. Crumpled clothes, books, music equipment and a funky coffee mug dot the cramped space. An Oz guy, Mark, with a guitar is slouched on a beanbag.

Mark: (to the audience): You asking me? Yeah, its true. Everything I’d ever heard about India -and hadn’t- its all real. I’m not much of a tourist. Naah. Didn’t go to the Taj Mahal. Or anywhere. I just took a good look around. Woke up late, walked down the street outside the door. Took the message of my song with me. They liked it. (He stands up, hums what might be the song, starts walking around a bit) Asked em to spread the word. About our coal. Asked them not to buy it. That was the refrain. And played my guitar in a place or two. Drank some coffee, met some –people-. Rejoiced. Came back home to Australia. Back to working on my song. Need to start taking my music around the place. It’s five her time. Skype today.

(Mark goes to his computer, brings the screen to life. You hear the familiar sounds of logging in and the ringing tone of Skype Chat. The other half of the stage lights up. General bright lights for the entire stage from now on. You see an Indian girl, Ruby, in her late thirties in a room that has low-lying cane furniture, bamboo floormats and large floor cushions with colourful Indian patterns. She is hurriedly adjusting her hair at the front of a small mirror set in a handcrafted frame that’s hanging on a wall. She hears the Skype ring and goes to her laptop computer that’s lying on the floor, and settles down for a chat).

Ruby: Heyyy

Mark: Hi there, Ruby. How are you?

Ruby: Whatever. What’s up? What’s been going on?

Mark: Nothing, really. Been working on my song. Went for a swim. Got some stuff coming up.

Ruby: Ah.

Mark: And you? You been busy?

Ruby: Kind of. Assorted stuff.

Mark: What? Too many chocolates?

Ruby: THERE! See! Tell me, are you a mind-reader?

Mark: No.

Ruby: And you said you‘re not a spy. You’re a shrink, right? My latest theory is that you’re a hypnotist.

Mark: I’m not a shrink…maybe a bush psychologist….

Ruby: Ya, ya, you said that before. Haha.

Mark: Did I tell you that when I was in India?

Ruby: No. Never mind. What else?

Mark: Lets see. I’m going next week to the Lands. Doing a show with my aboriginal friends.

Ruby: When am I going to meet them?

Mark: Ya, so the show. The music’s a bit like the stuff you heard on the Turluku album. I told you about the album?

Ruby: Are you testing my memory now?

Mark: Your hair is looking really nice.

Ruby: (animatedly) Oh thanks. It’s quite long, needs a trim. You should’ve seen it in the eighties, cut in curly steps and then there was the blunt, and then the ethnic look, I know ethnic is politically incorrect, but here its just a style statement, and do you remember pumping curls? No you wouldn’t, it was the last thing I needed, but you know me (Mark feebly tries to interrupt with “No, I don’t”), I decided that pumping curls was it, and then the pinned up look and the Hawaiian hairband.

Mark: This is good. I like this tone of yours.

Ruby: Your hair is quite long, why do you wear that cap all the time?

Mark: I don’t know, it’s just a cap I wear.

Ruby: It’s not fair that you can see me but I can’t see you.

Mark: It’s really expensive to get a webcam.

Ruby: Ya, ya, you said that before. I didn’t expect to ever hear from you after you left for Australia, you know.

Mark: Now, this is nothing to do with being strategic, is it?

Ruby: The only strategic bits are the detective bits: you know, wondering whether you’re not just a singer-songwriter, but all sorts of other things.

Mark: Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just not your James Bond kind of secret agent character that you want me to be. This comes up in our conversations every time we chat.

Ruby: You’re just a regular guy? (silence) Hmmm. Oh, well…So when are you coming to India again?

Mark: Er.. I, I’m quite – I’ve got a lot of things to do and…I really need to find my stage legs first. I’m planning to travel with my new music. But I don’t know where that’ll be.

Ruby: You do know that India is the Place in the World right now, don’t you? Or we could meet in south-east Asia. No, no, too many Tsunamis there… It would be good to meet again?

Mark: Yes, I wouldn’t mind spending some time with the likes of you.

Ruby: Are you a detective? Or a channel?

Mark: What kind of channel?

Ruby: The spiritual kind.

Mark: No, no I don’t really know too much about the auras and the chankras. How’s the mantra yelling going?

Ruby: See!!! How could you be that insightful? Why did you call it mantra yelling? You could’ve tried to patent the phrase if it wasn’t for the minor political incorrectness.

Mark: Haha. Did I tell you the story about the black horse that my grandpa wanted his grand-daughter to have?

Ruby: About a hundred times.

Mark: And the one about the illegitimate child who might be a half-sibling?

Ruby: Not again.

Mark: You remember I told you how I went for a swim and I was the only adult in a pool full of children?

Ruby: Yes, and about how you went for a funeral in a Hawaiian shirt.

Mark: Ah yes, did I tell you that one?

Ruby: So you ARE a shrink?

Mark: No.

Ruby: Ok.

Mark: I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch lately, but I’m happy to keep the friendship going and the occasional skype chat.

Ruby: Do you always quote people you talk to? Verbatim? You’re mirroring me, I just don’t know whether you’re doing it consciously or not.

Mark: About us, the distance is beginning to wear out on me.

Ruby: It’s not like anyone’s inviting me to Australia for a holiday. I’m not going to invite myself over.

Mark: Is that a saree you’re wearing? Is it a traditional one?

Ruby: No, it’s a normal saree.

Mark: I wouldn’t know the difference. We don’t get to see sarees in Australia everyday.

Ruby: I wouldn’t have guessed.

Mark: See, there’s a cultural mismatch.

Ruby: Haha.

Mark: I think I’ll allow you to go now. It’s getting late here.

Ruby: Bye….

Two years later: Scene: Teams playing a cricket match. A large part of the stage is the cricket field, with players playing cricket in slow motion. Focus on a series of cricket commentators dressed in attires of various cricketing and non-cricketing nations.

Multi-accented Commentators: (Begin with a murmur of cricket-commentary related cacophony including words like runs, overs, bat, ball, batsman, pitch, stadium, umpire, six runs, four, drive, pull, hook, slip, keeper, stumps, gloves, pads, seams, grass, boundary, lineup, injuries, tea break that rises to a crescendo, following which voices of individual commentators can be discerned).

Commentator (British accent):  A marvelous, sunny day here at the Eden Gardens….

Commentator (Australian accent): …yes, and just the right amount of bounce…the medium pacers would do nicely for a few more overs, no spin doctors, from the looks of it….

Comentator (Sub-continental accent): Ha ha, and the fast bowlers are likely to make a comeback closer to dusk.

Commentator (European accent): I ask, once again, what is this Fine Leg? No, no, no, no, you do not understand, we need a cricketing revolution in the EU.

Commentator (American accent): Eeeeew! Too many mosquitoes dudes. Swing it out, swing it out! I have a dream that one day, there shall be cricket.

Commentator (African accent): A hundred years later, maybe. You got a problem, buddy. You not dancing to no good tune.

Commentator (Chinese accent): Lalalalala long; We got a little song; Wickets and bats and cricketing hats and markets make the world go round.

(All the commentators now repeat their individual lines simultaneously and in song to the tune of the sports theme song This Time for Africa. The actors who were playing cricket start dancing and singing with assorted folk and tribal dance steps from across the world, as they all exit or as the curtain falls, they all end the song with the line: “A cultural mismatch? Who said that? What’s that” Echoes.)

Of Revolutions

Posting a thrice-published poem here today. i wrote this in my last year of school, and it was first published in a supplement of the Times of India, followed by a leftist newsletter, and then in The Stephanian in my first year of college. It begins with a reference to the colour lilac...if you scroll down to the poem that i've posted just before this one (called Exotic Transition and written in 1990), there is a nice continuity.

Of Revolutions (written on 18th April, 1989).

The lilac mist evaporates

to let the blazing mixture

of the heavens

reign supreme.

And the earth bows down

and is content,

For it approves

of this consistency of events

as they repeat themselves

in systematic succession

with an air

of time-tested perfection.

Then, a strange day arrives

with a different strain

and stranger hues

and shatters all

that once held sway.

The alien storm

uproots the old

and that past perfection

is made to appear

incomplete and erroneous

and is made to fade away

into obsolescence.

And Mankind finds

that the world must change

and that it holds no place

for those who cling on.

And the loss is great.

but what is gained

is greater still.

                                 By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

                             

Exotic Transition

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Here's a poem from my collection of writings in the 1980s and '90s. This one's called Exotic Transition, and i was reminded of it because it's about the colour purple, one that suddenly seems to be in vogue now. This was written on the 4th of January, 1990.

Exotic Transition

Mauve mellow breezes

drifted into time

And cast a net of purple shades

From earth's deepest purple caves

to the ultra-violet skyline.

Lavender-perfumed moonlight

caught the amethyst eyes of a swan

as it moved on

in the river of wine.

It was the reign

of the colour divine.

It could kill and it could thrill

the heart and soul of man.

And so it came,

the purple time.

And man wondered

whether it was dawn or dusk.

It was dusk.

It was dawn.

The new would come

The old would be gone

---

                                                                  - V. Shruti Devi

Canvasses

By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)


Somewhere
Between idea/s
And depiction.
No claims
to hindered skills.
Just art.
Dashes of light
to amuse
with.
Click on the link, then blink.
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151637643257028.1073741825.650792027&type=1&l=bd22e704a4

Drink the Light

Fort Kurupam 2012 (written on 24th October, 2012)

Return from Viswanathapuram
Vijaya Dashami

Breathe into earthen cup
The Dasara moon
swirls
in the Earl Grey.

Solar systems
Pranayam
And it disperses
into galaxies

Drums and the dancing moon
Flux
As i drink the light.

Then write.


By V. Shruti Devi (quill-o-the-wisp)

Limtum

Written on 1st Nov., 2004
Found that clear pool
tucked amid the hills.
Clarity
and darting fish
where a green deep
feeds a clamouring curent.
Waded through water,
staff in hand.
Slithering stones
and a brainful
of stories
of flashfloods.
A cloudburst
on the hilltop
would have me flailing and faltering
on the altering 'scape.
Preserve this, I say,
for me to replay.
Who?
A one-time wader
Yet no invader
- there's life across this brook
to meet, greet.
Limtum, then.
A culvert for that beat.

Weavers' Street 08

On a spin
step in
to looms.
Floor to sunken floor
Ribs and arms, wood.
Walls sprout hooks, embed rods
Person pushes pedals, bars
on counted thread,
girl deftly flings the spool
and gets it right.
Flesh and stone, teak and bone,
Organic.
(Written on 6th Dec., 2008)

Nirnayalu

Neeku, naaku, prati aaku.
prati aaku, prati panta
prati panta, prati vanta, prati manta
meeda cheyudaaniki nirnayam
eppudu wochestaadi
aa udayam?

(i wrote this in 004. It is a verse that wonders when the dawn that enables you and me to make decisions over crops, leaves, food and fires will break.)

Causes

People's rights
to Land
in a mess.
Pretentions to solve
wouldn’t absolve
of hypocracy.

Causes for discourses
on mineral resources
Abundant.
Siting to citing;
river-bed or death-bed.
Rationalization
points
towards
Nationalization.
We’re still watching….

18th Jan., '09

A Journey

15th Jan, 2009 (about ’08)

Nasik
and the surging
waters
-ashes
transported.

Thereafter,
steep climb
for mortals.
Stairway
to Kapaaleshwar
equivalent
to having
toured
twelve spots of light
of which two
were
in the vicinity
-a radius
of a few hours
as wheels roll….

Triyambakeshwar, Grishneshwar
Aurangabad.
Once, touched three stones-
the mudra,
disc jockey of the world.

Ellora
-masses
of stone and dirt
transformed.

A miniature Taj with variations
-Bibi Ka Maqbara
not macabre
as the name might suggest.

ROOKERY

Many-shaded squares on a durrie
Coalition-era chess mat
Hop-scotch the talk
Pitthoo ban gaya
everyone’s game
Kho kho gaya
Catch and blame
Kabaadi wallahs wheel their carts
Rocket launchers gather parts
Spokes and tyres
Dying fires
O to be an ember
And not a flame