Birches
by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.



This is one of my favourite pieces of poetry.

And lines which particularly fascinate me are:

It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return.

I get a similar feeling during times when I am ambling aimlessly, or in times when I feel weighed down by circumstances beyond my control, or when I get frustrated in face of endless contradictions. In such times, there are moments when I wish I could take a break – a break from all the tensions – a break in which I can travel back to times when life was simple and innocent and so was I. And, don’t mistake this to be escapism, because it’s not running away but just a simple wish for a breather– a short little break from which I want to come back with renewed vigour and a clean slate so that I can start afresh.

But then I guess only games have breaks, battles just go on and on and on…..and life I believe resembles a battle far more than a game. Though had it been a game, it might just have been much more fun … but then would we have taken it this seriously ?

And that's why I always come around saying, it's good the way it is :)

He called out for her but she won’t come, she likes playing hide and seek with him once in a while. He didn’t even know where to look for her, he switched on the table lamp and picked up a book which he hasn’t read for a while, he couldn’t read it still. His mind was elsewhere, words can’t just be read by eyes. His closed the book, switched on some music and switched off the lamp. He tried again and failed again. She was playing hard to get. Now it was no more a game, he wanted to tell her aloud, “Ok you’ve won…now come over”. If he was sure, she could listen to him, he might have just said it. There was a nice breeze blowing inside the room from the open window, he thought for a minute about going out and taking a walk, but then he discarded the thought, he didn’t want to give in to her as yet. He tried to think hard, how he has found her earlier, he couldn’t think of anything he has not already tried. Today nothing seems to have any effect on her.

But he would keep trying….

So, he called out for sleep again, hoping this time she would come over.

Words are not man’s best friend; they just don’t know how to keep secrets. Even most discrete of the words chosen with great care have a habit of giving it away. If not entirely by themselves then between themselves they always blurt it out. You try and confide in them and they go out and conspire against you telling the world what you wanted to hide deep down.

It’s better to be an artist, colours speak but they still leave a lot to imagination. A stroke of grey can mean lot more than just a sad mood, a bright yellow may not always give away your secret joys, a red may not always be window to one’s fears, a blue need not just be a hope taking shape. They can be all this and they can be so much more and that’s enough to keep your cover.

But alas, I am no artist and words are all I have…

-siddhartha

Song recommendation of the day:

If I ever get to sit and compile a list of my favourite songs, this beautiful song written by Gulzar and sung by Kishore and Lata would always find a place, what better day to recommend it then Kishore Da’s birthday ( for me, it’s still night of 4th August). I especially love the last two lines.

हज़ार राहें मुड के देखी, कहीं से कोई सदा ना आयी
बड़ी वफ़ा से निभायी तुमने , हमारी थोड़ी सी बेवफ़ाई

जहाँ से तुम मोड़, मुड़ गए थे, ये मोड़ अब भी वहीँ पडे हैं
हम अपने पैरों मे जाने कितने, भँवर लपेटे हुये खड़े हैं

कहीं किसी रोज़ यूं भी होता, हमारी हालत तुम्हारी होती
जो रात हमने गुज़ारी मर के, वो रात तुमने गुज़ारी होती

तुम्हें ये ज़िद थी कि हम बुलाते, हमे ये उम्मीद वो पुकारे
हैं नाम होंठों पर अब भी लेकिन, आवाज़ मे पड़ गयी दरारे

My peak TV watching season usually coincides with EPL and depends on how many Chelsea games are on air. Apart from that, catching up on movie trailers on weekends and an occasional movie once in a blue moon is best I can come up with if I have to justify paying my Cable TV bill. But of late I have hooked on to something new – Indian Idol.

In Singapore, we only get three Hindi channels – Star Plus, Zee and Sony. And 24 hour obsession of first two with some “how could someone see them” serials mean that whenever I tune in a Hindi channel, it is always Sony. So, it all started with those guys carpet bombing their channel with Indian Idol. Rather Indian Idol and Boogie Woogie, coz I remember there was a time when I would have bet all my savings on the fact that when I will switch on the TV and whatever be the time, one of these two shows would be on. And trust me I would have won that bet 10 out of 10 times. Anyways, so I still maintain that I started watching Indian Idol because stars conspired to make me watch it, though I would admit that listening to Hindi songs and Javed Akhtar played some part also.

But the reason why I stay tuned and didn’t surf away was different and it was the reality TV factor. Now I know lot of people believe that reality TV is all sham and mere playing to the camera and I would agree to that to a large extent. But what’s not sham is the joy and disappointment on the face of winners and losers when what is at stake is not money but dreams. And when dreams are at stake, emotions are real and contagious. I remember how often I found myself smiling looking at a beaming face of someone who was told he is selected and how I sympathized with someone who was trying hard to keep a straight face upon rejection.

Frankly, while for us it’s mere entertainment, for channel – just TRP and more ads and for celebrity judges it may just be some extra bucks on the side. But for all those guys and girls who aspire to be singers, this and rather such programmes mean much more than that. I guess it may not be any different for them as it is for so many appearing in JEE or CAT. It’s a test for them to give wings to their ambitions, prove themselves to their own selves, to their families, to their friends and may be to the whole world. And you can see how much success in Indian Idol means for them, while their tears when one of their competitors get thrown out may be meant for camera but when they themselves get selected or rejected, emotions that come out then – they are not for anyone, they are just so real. And these genuine emotions are what I watch Indian Idol for. I agree the producers of this show sometime really try to add ridiculous stuff and unnecessary drama, and I really wonder why they do that. Because there is no bigger drama than a constant effort to pull oneself through, no bigger drama than working through the pressure to live another day, no bigger drama than watching one’s dreams getting shattered. And I just wonder why producers insist on changing this drama into melodrama – there is no need, I wish they knew.

Overall, it’s interesting to note how an anxious face in a moment can turn into a rainbow of joy, what different shades people take up in face of rejection and how people gather their shattered dreams as they walk away from what was supposed to be their flight to fame. And if someone is not in mood for all this – trust me these guys and girls sing pretty well too :-)

पेडों से छन के, किरणों के रथ पे, धूप छत पे उतरी तो थी
फिर जाने क्यों वो, मेरी चौखट पे आके, ना जाने कहॉ मुड़ गयी

थोड़ी उनींदी , थोड़ी जगी सी, सुबह ने आँखें खोली तो थी
फिर जाने क्यों वो, करवट बदल के , मुह फेर के सो गयी

भीगी हुई सी, छीटे उड़ाती , बारिश ने मुझको बुलाया तो था
पर जाने क्यों वो, मुझको भिगोये बिना ही, जाके बादलों मे कहीँ छुप गयी

बन के, संवर के, चन्दा से सज के, रात घर से निकली तो थी
पर जाने क्यों वो, मुझ से मिलने से पहले, थक के कही सो गयी

यूं तो नहीं हैं कि खुशियों से मेरा, कभी मिलना हुआ ही नहीं
मगर जाने क्यों वो, जब भी मिली हैं, रुकी हैं पर ठहरी नहीं

Ten days is a long time. And seems even longer when you are Down Under with no internet and no intention to check news channels on TV.

So, in last 10 days while I was busy exploring rainforests, coral reefs, pristine beaches and blue waters around Queensland, lot of water flew through Ganges.

We got a new president – someone whose name I never heard till a month back and since I have heard her name, it has more to do with one controversy or another.

I understand we would also be getting a new vice president soon, someone equally obscure and whose main qualification is that he is a muslim, important consideration given ruling coalition opposed APJ for another presidential term.

Sensex not only crossed 15K rather almost kissed 16K – on Monday it was 15,732 and my returns on investment were making me look like some stock market expert though we all know any body would have made money in such a bull market.

Sachin Tendulkar scored a 171 against some English side in a first class game, long time since one would have seen such a mammoth score against little master’s name. Though what happened in test match subsequently is for all to see.

But of all this, bits that are hard to digest are that Pratibha Patil ( Who?) is President of Republic of India and Hameed Ansari ( Who ? What? Why? ) would mostly probably be our next vice president.

If my memory serves me right, first president of India that I got to know of was Giani Jail Singh, He was the president when I first started keeping track of Who’s who. Then came R Venkatraman, Shankar Dayal Sharma, K R Narayan and finally APJ Abdul Kalam. And now someone who answers to the call of Pratibha Patil and next one could be Hameed Ansari.

I wonder why, highest position of our country can’t be taken by someone who is deserving of that honour. APJ was at least a known name, someone most of us respected and held in esteem. Given, President of India is no more a rubber stamp so I would agree that ambitious politicians would not be interested, and for distinguished citizens we have Bharat Ratna and they need not be made president, but while some political sense and a forward looking outlook should be required, I would seriously believe that President of India should be a man or woman whom people can respect.

Let’s see whom would I like to be installed as next president. Narayan Murthy’s name was discussed widely in media and though I would prefer to see him in active politics but frankly he would have made a president I like. Then, there is Atal Bihari Vajpayee… a politician everyone respected, he is too old for active politics but I guess he would have made a good president too. APJ Abdul Kalam, well I was all for another term for him. Atleast with his vision he could have contributed to education and other areas while continuing in President’s office. T N Seshan, well that’s another man who could have been brought back from oblivion, but politicians would find it too uncomfortable to have him around.

Among seasoned politicians, Jyoti Basu is too leftist for my comfort so I would give him a pass. S M Krishna could be an interesting choice, he might not have been able to achieve much in Karnataka but I think he tried and then he was a congressman and not completely obscure.

And why just politicians, we could have chosen an ex chief of armed forces or someone very active in social upliftment space, a mature academician or any other visionary who could use the office of President to contribute to society and lend some kind of grace to the office.

Alas, that is not to be. So we have Mrs. Pratibha Patil as President of India and Hameed Ansari as potential Vice-president of India. And my frustration with Indian political scene strengthens further.

Yesterday on my flight back to Singapore, I finally finished reading ‘Life of Pi’. Interesting in parts, though didn’t really match up to ‘Old man and the sea’, one of my favourites which made me pick Life of Pi at the first place.

But I came across a very interesting passage in the book yesterday which seems to resonate what I wrote about ‘Fear’ few days back (and also what I didn’t write).

Thought would quote the passage here :

“I must say a word about fear. It is Life’s only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy. Doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. But disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. Doubt does away with it with little trouble. You become anxious. Reason comes to do battle for you. You are reassured. Reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. But, to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. You feel yourself weakening, wavering. Your anxiety becomes dread.

Fear next turns fully to your body, which is already aware that something terribly wrong is going on. Already your lungs have flown away like a bird and your guts have slithered away like a snake. Now your tongue drops dead like an possum, while your jaw begins to gallop on the spot. Your ears go deaf. Your muscles begin to shiver as if they had malaria and your knees to shake as though they were dancing. Your heart strains too hard, while your sphincter relaxes too much. And so with the rest of your body. Every part of you, in the manner most suited to it, falls apart. Only your eyes work well. They always pay proper attention to fear.

Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you’ve defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you. The matter is difficult to put into words. For fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like a gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which to speak of it. So you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”

In all those fairy tales we read as a kid, there was plenty of magic and all that was needed to create that magic was a wave of wand or snapping of fingers. Magic was always instantaneous and spell always used to last a long while. Unfortunately, there ain't any such wands in reality and try snapping but it won't bring you anything other than few raised eyebrows. In real life, one needs to work really hard to create any magic and if you succeed to create some, there isn’t any motor that’s going to keep the spell going for ever. Real life magic just lasts for a short while and then it fades away unless you can quickly get back at weaving it all over again. So often, I wonder if I could just sit back, relax and enjoy that spell for much longer. But then I have realized that’s not how it is meant to be.

How it works is that every time you want to pull that rabbit outta hat, you need to work right from the scratch. Ok, may be not from the scratch but from somewhere not too far from there. And if you are pulling a rabbit out of that hat daily – 3 times a day, then sometimes you just expect that bloody rabbit to come back and quietly slip into the hat at the designated time. Why can’t he spare me the effort? Why should I always create him from nothing? Why can’t he already be in the hat once in a while for me to just pull out?

I wish it was like that and I know it is not and this gulf between 'want' and 'have' is something we all gotta live with. Unless ofcourse, someone can wave a wand and change it....

Fear thrives on fear. One gets scared only when he or she wants to be scared. As a kid, it’s only when you imagine a monster under the bed or in the dark corner of the room that you get scared of it. It’s amazing that as soon as you stop imagining those monsters, fears fail to find a way to pin you. It’s only when you fear a failure that a fear of failure starts keeping you tense, It’s only when you are scared of losing something precious that you always fear that you might lose it. It’s only when you are scared it might go wrong that you keep fearing that indeed could go wrong.
And as long as they last, fears play great havoc. They say in physics that for every action there is an equal reaction. But fears throw this law out of window; suddenly reactions are bigger and bitter. You are suddenly alert to even most irrelevant and insignificant detail. Your life hinges on anything and everything, priorities are beaten up beyond recognition. And life becomes a constant race that you are destined to lose because fear has a way to catch up with you, wherever you go, wherever you hide. And as you keep losing the race, fear starts taking a more scary form which makes you feel chained and then you start doing its bidding. Unknowingly you start destroying everything because you believe this is the only way to get rid of them.
I have tried sometimes to look the other way, try tricking fears by ignoring them, hoping that moment you refuse to acknowledge their presence they would just fade away like they never existed. But this approach has never known to succeed, because you can’t wish away their existence by just closing your eyes, sooner or later they would slip onto your side and face you and then you would just be more scared than before.

So trick lies in facing the fears. But as you start fighting the fears, they come back with equal ferocity, you try and reason with them but they won’t listen. You try punching them and they would punch you back harder. You try finding a way out and they would always reach before you to block the door. And that’s when you need your confidence the most, because the moment you tell yourself that I’ll take care come what may, suddenly clouds of fear are blown away and light of calm and control find its way to you. If something is precious, all you got to say is no matter what I will hold on and then you would no more be scared of losing it., the very day that little kid decide to look under the bed with confidence…monsters just take the nearest window out. Fear takes control only when we let go of the control. It’s only when I shrug my shoulders in helplessness and say “what would I do if this happen” that fears start scaring me with terrible scenarios. It’s only when you let your confidence be shaken by apprehensions that fears find their opening to get into your mind. The day “what if” in our thoughts get replaced by “whatever” it just becomes too simple. The day I face my fears with my supreme confidence in myself, fear accept defeat and bow out.
It’s easy to blame life for scaring you, but fact is we scare ourselves. No one drives us into a corner, we ourselves get into the corner and then complain that we have no way out. There isn’t any monster under the bed waiting to snatch what we want to keep close, monster is in our mind and all we need to do to drive it away is to retain our faith in us.

It hurts when you know you are hurting someone and you can do nothing about it. It frustrates you when you are just reduced to a mute spectator, when you can do nothing, can’t say a word of comfort, can’t lend a helping hand, can’t wipe a rolling tear. You just pray that it would all be fine, you just plead that it won’t hurt a lot, you just look down because you can’t look straight into someone’s eyes. You just stand there as a prisoner of life, not even sure if you should plead non-guilty because you can see someone is suffering and you know that pain knowingly or unknowingly bears your stamp. You wish it was simple, you wish it was different, you wish someone had warned you that life can come to such a pass. But ….you know it’s too late for all this. And so you stand still as life goes on to make a case against you and you nod in agreement when it passes a judgment finally………………............…Guilty !!!...........................................Yes Sir !!!