Humble (the morning poem)

10- Oct- 2009, 8:34am


As the first yellow ray
of sunshine
glimmers on a strand
of a golden straw of a thatched house,
a new born baby yawns
to new born day,
as the first wisp of smoke
from a mud house
makes its way to join the clouds,
as a mother and wife
rattles pots and pans
to feed her family.
As a proud man wakes up
to nurse his blisters in hands
and washes himself up in
a sputtering tap,
I write this poem for you.



chirag Bangdel

....but human....

Okay, I admit I am blogging after a long time. Perhaps I didn’t have anything to record or report to my friends. Well I realize that I have quite a few friends who added themselves to the list of “followers”. Perhaps that’s the blogging term – “followers”. I am not too fond of it. Makes blogging sound like a cult or religion.
I have hardly done anything substantial after my last solo exhibition. Just a few sketches and small paintings. I have finally started working on a book, a project that I have been planning for a long time. But like I say….I just started. It’s an ambitious project and once on I will be very busy. I have a lot of things happening in my head….but until they come to materialize, they don’t mean a thing do they?
When you get things going….is that growth? Is that progress? What do I plan for now? Another concept? Another series of concepts? Another perspective to creativity and art? Another reason for art? Another reason to art or of art? Where do I go from there? Why should art have a reason? Why should art have a concept? Why should art have so many things to worry about? God just creates the rainbow, He never worries about the reason for it!
Yes, so I need to plan again, for my form of expression. Have an exhibition. Maybe write the books that I have been planning. But then what next? Is that what life is all about? Aiming for goals and objectives….working hard to reach them and acquire them. And once you are there….nothing happens. You have done it and that’s it.
And yet I struggle each day to find me a concept. To find me a muse. To find something that no one has never found before. I struggle, I worry. And then I create only to use it all and then to seek all over again.
Life always has two perspectives. One, you make plans and goals and work hard to achieve them and in the process be content. Or two, be content and happy with what you have.
There….that’s my blog for today!

Ramblings after a Bandh day, Life is still good !

I think it was late 2004, when the insurgency was at it’s peak. I was driving towards Kupondole. I was trying to cross the Bagmati Bridge, and as you know that place is always suffocated in a traffic jam. I saw that army personnel were posted at the two ends of the bridge. Right in front of me was a school bus with children. As the bus passed the army men, one of the children who was close to the window lifted his hand to salute an army man. This soldier had a little look of bewilderment, he then smiled and saluted back to the child. This whole incident took place in a few seconds but the memory of it will last with me forever. I will never know what made the child salute the soldier. Curiosity? Or was it the fun in the process? The child must have been around eight to ten years of age. I know this little action of this child made the hours of standing for the soldier a little meaningful. I don’t know how many people saw this entire little escapade. But as you know it’s not just enough to see things you need to “see” things.
I had recently gone to a flower nursery to buy me some flowers. I always try to buy as much flowers during spring for in this season God gets so extravagant. I think we would be stupid if we failed to enjoy His spendthrift mood. I saw these pots of tiny little pansies. You know….not those big ones but those tiny ones that look like tiny butterflies. I decided to get me some pots of those. And among these pots was one pot with these tiny pansies in pure black! I had never seen flowers so intense black! I brought this pot with me home, along with the others and it still blooms at my door step. I show these tiny black pansies to people and most just go an unexcited, flat, soggy “oh!”. They are not excited about a flower which is actually black in colour! I realize beauty and joy is everywhere, but we need the eye and more than that, the heart, to see and feel it.

I just saw some black pansies…..imagine all those flowers in the Tropical forests!!!!!! And all the birds there! There is going to be a beautiful sunrise tomorrow. Trees can be grown from tiny seeds. My dog wags her tail when she sees me. Isn’t life full of joy? Life is so full of magic ! God gives us in abundance, all we need to do is share.


Chirag Bangdel
2 – May – 2010
10:23 pm

Family Affair

Family Affair
(29- April- 2010. 2:30pm)


My brother,
I will meet you
in the battle field tomorrow.
My old wound
still bleeds,
but I have to fight,
I may have loved you
(I still may love you)
but hating is easy
so I will fight.
I have reasons to fight
more than reasons to love,
so I will fight.
So come to the grounds tomorrow,
bring your weapons
and let our blood flow.
The mud will be drenched red.
And maybe if a sayapatri later blooms there,
it will be red too.
We have always been brave,
we have always gone to wars.
Our blood has wet many lands,
let's now wet ours.
My brother,
we need to fight.
We can share,
but we wont.
I want it all.
So do you.

We are born to fight.
Isn’t that why we have the khukuri?




chirag bangdel

Khari ko Ghero

Khari ko Ghero
I just watched the play , “Khari ko Ghero” at Guru kul. The small discreet place was jam packed with people. Guru kul is a place where dreams come alive. It’s a place where ambitions and enthusiams are sky high. It’s a place where everything is possible. Today a river flew on the stage…..houses were burnt, we laughed and cried with the actors.
Khari ko Ghero is a play translated into Nepali. I don’t remember all the details of the original script but if I remember right we were told it was translated into more than forty languages, and the show today proved that it was a perfect translation to cater to the Nepali audience.
I was a little skeptic when I was invited by my friend. I mean there have been times when I have been utterly bored at plays. I mean I need to admit that plays sometimes lose their main purpose of it being an “entertainment” in an attempt to put in a lot of intellectual content. Its not important that all intellectual elements be entertaining. I never loved those big maths formulae.
Getting back to the play Khari ko Ghero, this article is my gratitude to all the people involved in it. It was so beautifully done. Like I said they made literally everything happen on stage. There were songs and dances. And beautifully crafted scenes…..and they did it all with limited resources. A big plastic strip made a river and paper shreds made snow flakes. The equipments and props were all hand made and crude but the performance of the actors could deserve an Oscar.
But what I envy the most in all the artistes is the zeal at what they do. They perform every evening and today they were excited like they were performing for the first time. I came back home excited about the arts. I saw in the artists the tremendous faith they had in what they were doing. I hope I have as much faith in the arts as they do. I am also a little ashmed of myself that four hours ago I was a little hesitant about going to the play. I thank my friend for taking me along.
I salute all artistes who perform on stage, whether the hall is packed with people or with a scanty audience. These artistes who make dreams come true for us. These artistes who act because they want to act and nothing else. These artistes who transform themselves to beggars and kings and yet actors whether they make a living out of it or not.

Khari ko Ghero is a must watch!

Papa

Papa
(one of my oldest poems, written for my late father.)



Papa,
your slippers
were always too big for me.
They still don’t fit me
though now I wear your shirts
and your responsibilities.


I remember
my tiny hands
groping for yours
in the confusion
of a street crossing.
My hands have grown
and your have faded to the skies above.


The difficult Maths problems
you helped me with every night
are so easy now.
But life is heavier
than my school bag to school
and more noisome
than the dangling water tumbler.


I try to shave
and dab the aftershave
every morning
like you did.
But I’ll never be you.

Your slippers are too big.





chirag bangdel
(photograph, my father and me)

Self Portrait

Self Portrait


Drunk with my dreams
I stand high
and touch the sky.
The breeze brings me
a ripe red leaf
and I treasure it for you.

So it’s me above
and the world below.
Every thing is poetry.


See?
I am writing a poem!



chirag bangdel
(earlier published in my collection “Fermenting Flowers”)

Immunity

Immunity


Ten thousand people
on the street, protesting.
Angry words
and slogans,
soon – gunshots,
some run,
some fight on.
Fifty get wounded
and a man of twenty-two dies.
A curfew follows,
lasts five hours.

The next morning
people rush to work
and vendors sell their wares.
Even the blood stains on the road
fade away –
too many cars on the streets.



chirag bangdel
Photograph, my performance “Portrait of a Patriot”, International Sutra Workshop 2006.)

After the Rain

After the Rain


Blue skies
and roofs of Malla temples,
caterpillar eaten leaves for boats,
and at night
a thousand moons
scattered all over the streets,
the puddles.




chirag bangdel

Before Tomorrow

Before Tomorrow
(12- October-2009, a little after midnight.)


Are there clouds up there?
Are the leaves moving
to the breeze?
Have the trees in my backyard disappeared?
Perhaps the dew drops for the morning are half made.

I am a captive in my own room.
It’s midnight.




chirag bangdel

At the Pond

At the Pond

Rings,
rings
and more rings.
Perfect rings
till they reach the shore.
So much done.
And so fast.
I feel guilty.

My careless pebble !



chirag bangdel

Solitude

Solitude


A flickering diyo light
is all that remains.
A dark night
and a lonely temple.
No pilgrims,
no priests,
no devotees.


The deity finally rests
among fermenting flowers



chirag bangdel

Poem

Poem


A chunk of square blue
stretched over
my open window.
Spotless,
not even clouds to intrude.

My private sky.





chirag bangdel

Poem

Poem


White,
perfect white.
Like silence of the night,
expectant
and nervous.
Cold
as if frozen.
Virgin and flawless.
The white sheet of paper.

Is my poetry really good enough for this?





chirag bangdel
(earlier published in my collection “Fermenting Flowers”)

Contemplation

Contemplation

One question that baffles me all the time is “what is the purpose of life?” We the Hindus and the Buddhists believe in life after death and karma. But still this does not explain the purpose of life. What is salvation? What is moksh?
Hindus believe that everything in this world is superficial. A world of maya. But then don’t you sometimes wonder why God sent us down to this world of maya? Since we are supposed to be His children. Scriptures from different religions have different approaches. Some religions don’t believe in life after death. The evidence that there is life after death is somewhat proved in Buddhism when Rimpoche’s are reborn.
There is another question that tags along with my first one. “Why is there so much suffering?” Well, an explanation to that would be that, with suffering , you realize the value of joy. The bad elements are found in this earth to balance the good. Suffering is there to make us realize the importance of happiness. But then I come back to my question- “ If we are God’s children, why does he make us suffer?” This is the question, whose answer Prince Siddartha sought and finally became the Buddha. But he could never give us the answer. He could just show us the ways he found the answer. All God realized souls admit that it is a difficult path. They say it’s a “pathless path”.
I believe in the energy that we have as God. The fact that I am able to write this is God. The names we have given to trees, fruits, the sky, water, earth, plant…..everything are the names given by us. What do they really stand for? I think this is what the Hindus call “Tatt”…..I am Tatt, you are Tatt, the plant is Tatt….we are all the same.
I also believe that our individual soul or the Aatma is but a tiny chunk of the biggest and the purest of all souls or Paramatma. My soul is like a bulb lighted in the current that lights a billion bulbs. Maybe this is why when we breathe we say “So- Hum” or “I am That”.
They say I will have realized God when I will have realized who I really am. For a human or a man are terms invented by us.

I am Tatt.

Happy New Year

I wonder if there is anyone else in this world writing on a blog apart from me today. It’s the first day of 2010. We need to get used to this new numerical form of 2010. Somehow this reminds me of all those sci-fi movies where robots ruled the world and had huge wars with aliens from outer space. But things haven’t changed drastically after all. Homo-sapiens are still ruling the world. And despite all our funky laptops and mobile phones that do a million things, we are yet to invent a time machine when Arnold Sc$%#@&* (fogive me but I could never spell his surname) could come back to earth with his sleek black glasses from the future and tell us over and over again, “I’ll be back.” He hasn’t, I am afraid…..and that was the eighties (nineties?).
I remember all of us dancing to Jennifer “the Gorgeous” Lopez’s song “ Waiting for Tonight” in the advent of the new millennium. And here we are ten years down the line. A lot older. A lot fatter. And all happy that we are into a new year. And if this is an excuse to celebrate life, well….. “Happy New Year!!!!!”
J Krishnamurthy, in his journal, writes that it is not time that is moving but it is us. It is our lives. Its our cycle that is constantly changing. The time is a constant. He makes a lot of sense, doesn’t he? It’s the humans that invented time. It was never there. So we have seconds and minutes and days and months and years….and of course a happy new year to celebrate. But then we also have deadlines! Imagine life without time? Pretty confusing, isn’t it? But J Krishnamurthy also says in his quotes in his journal that, “the observer is the observed and the observed is the observer.” So its upto to us have our perspective to time. It’s upto to you whether you want deadlines and work hard and accomplish things. Or take it easy with life. And you will be right both ways because it’s your happiness that really matters in the end.
But the great thing about time is that it’s the same everywhere….whether it’s all those expensive Swiss watches or those cheap ones sold on top of our flyovers of the roads, plunged in those plastic mugs to show off their resistance to water. One pm is the same every where. Though the meaning for one pm could be a meeting or a siesta.
Well whether we want it or not, the only thing constant in this world is change….whether it be as unwelcome as the change of numbers on the fare meter of a taxi or welcome as the first word of a baby. Things are changing. And 2009 has changed to 2010….so lets get used to the new change in the year, everytime we write the date.
But beyond parties and all the singing and drinking, this new year brings us hope. Its something new and crisp. And I wish you all of these….let this freshness give you courage and hope and the zeal to make great and beautiful changes. Changes that make you realize how beautiful life is….and the need to celebrate it each day! Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!!!