Happy birthday to me

The full poem here*.


*Although somehow, I liked the last line more than the entire thing.

This 'n that

The rain has stopped, finally. Not that it was affecting me much; it would take a lot more water to flood an eighth floor apartment. But there is the wind. I have to keep all the windows (but one) closed because the moment I open them a crack, it's like I've let a typhoon into the house. Papers fly around, curtains billow dramatically, doors bang, empty water bottles get blown off kitchen counters. So I keep them closed, only, even though they're the sliding glass type windows, they're never *completely* closed. And you know what happens when gale force winds try to force their way through teeny tiny slots?

Banshee karaoke.

The first time I heard the wailing, I thought a bat had flown into the house. After a rather jittery search revealed that it was only the wind, I tried sealing off the windows by jamming in newspaper. It didn't work, at least not in the way I hoped. All it did was lower the pitch. So instead of soprano, my window banshees now wail in a soft contralto.

I should sell tickets or something.

***

On a completely unrelated note, a lovely poem I read over the weekend. Author Anne Lamott calls it a wonderful use of paranoia as material. I agree.

We Who Are Your Closest Friends

We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.

- Philip Lopate

An Ode to Coffee*

O noble cup of velvet brew!
We thank each passing day for you,
If not for you our days would be
sad, and spent in drinking tea!

Thou art the friend of workers free,
who have no time for frippery
like dainty sips from china cups
with buttered scones and silly sops.

It's-drink-and-get-to-work with you,
as should be with the perfect brew.
With sleeves rolled up on muscled arms,
no fop can claim to know your charms.

no pish-tosh posing, pinkies raised
and just for that, the lord be praised!
No “Twist of lemon? Sugar? Two?”
You are a self-respecting brew!

From roasted beans you are conceived,
not fragile, shriveled up old leaves
the difference is for all to see,
there is no robustness in tea!

To Chamomile, the odes they sing,
Lapsang Souchong and Darjeeling,
Earl grey, Assam and what have you,
I'll stick to my caffeine, thank you!

They call it ‘liquid gold‘ sometimes
for ignorance is not a crime
Forgive them! For they know not what,
they miss, reaching for a tea pot.

What philistines they are who say,
that the cup that cheers is full of tea.
Tea, that so insipid broth!
that does not banish venal sloth.

Tea does not bubble busily
but steeps for all eternity,
And when it’s done what do you get?
Flavoured water, lukewarm yet!

The scent of coffee reaches out,
it’s tendrils from the bubbling spout
And wafts through home and hearth to bring
warmth, and make the taste-buds sing

O font of joy! O blessed bean!
O catalyst to dopamine!
No day shall pass when I shall not,
gaze fondly at that bubbling pot.

I pour myself a mug of you,
O coffee, truly wondrous brew!
Tea cannot stand up next to thee,
O steaming mug of black coffee!


*I’m (semi) unemployed. I will write odes to coffee.**
**Or whatever else I jolly well please.

To sing or not to sing...

...Vande Mataram, is apparently, the question.

My most recent memories of Vande Mataram are from the A.R. Rehman directed version of it (very soft, very pretty), and then, Shubha Mudgal's knock-your-socks-off rendition (with the absolutely trippy video featuring this woman, who just by the way, would totally be second on the list of women whose babies I would want to have, If I ever turned lesbian. Oh I'm not supposed to say that out loud? Oh shush! You're the internet, internet, and if I can't bare my soul to you, then what use is a soul, I ask you!).

The first time I heard Vande Mataram sung (circa 1988), the only thought that crossed my mind was, "Oh pretty tune! It's the national song? Oh okay."

Was I flooded with feelings of nationalism? No. Did it appeal to the patriot in me? No. Do you know why? Because I hadn't a clue what it means. Nope. Not a one.

The song, you see, is in Sanskrit. Not exactly the Lingua Franca of the average Indian, let alone your average (and that's me being SO generous) eleven-year-old NRI.

And I'd be willing to bet a whole lot of money, that the cretins squabbling over whether or not it should be sung, haven't a clue either.

And yet, there's this.

*sigh*

***

Oh and while we're on the subject of songs, here's one that's been making perfectly seasoned, slow-roasted, melt-in-your-mouth seekh kababs of my heart (and also, not related at all, but I think I'm hungry).

Naina: OST Omkara, Lyrics: Gulzar, Music: Vishal Bhardwaj

Nainon ki mat maaniyo re, nainon ki mat suniyo,
Nainon ki mat suniyo re
Naina thag lenge

Jagte jaadu phukenge re, jagte jagte jaadu
jagte jaadu phukenge re neenden banjar kar denge
Naina thag lenge

Bhala manda dekhe na paraya na saga re
nainon ko toh dasne ka chaska laga re
Nainon ka zehar nasheela re

Baadalon mein satrangiyan bonve bhor talak barsaave
baadalon mein satrangiyan bonve, naina baanvra kar denge
Naina thag lenge

Naina raat ko chalte chalte swargaan mein le jaave
megh malhaar ke sapne bije* hariyali dikhlave
Nainon ki zubaan pe bharosa nahi aata
likhat parhat** na rasid na khaata
saari baat havaai*** re, saari baat havaai

Bin baadal barsaaye saawan, saawan bin barsaatan
bin baadal barsaaye saawan naina baanwara kar denge
Naina thag lenge

Jagte jaadu phukenge re jagte jagte jaadu
jagte jaadu phukenge re neenden banjar kar denge
Naina thag lenge.


Beg, borrow, download, if you have to, but listen to this song. If you loved Gulzar before, this song will make you want to get down on your knees and worship him.


P.S. There is some amount of dispute of about some of the lyrics. I have written what's made the most sense to me, the asterisked (I'm not sure if that's a real word) words according to the internet versions of this song are:

*dije
** parakh
***hamari