On the other side

no universe dancing
no gods appearing
no fantasy
of this side

carried to the other
just an acceptance
of all existence
just a musical note
in a symphony
of absolute stillness

18 thoughts on “On the other side

  1. Those are very beautiful words indeed, Shekhar. It reminded me of a great quote by the great Sufi poet Rumi.
    “Only let the moving waters calm down, and the sun and moon will be reflected on the surface of your being.”
    The symphony of absolute stillness is the beauty of being in complete peace with ourselves and to be AWAKE. There is this quote that I keep in front of me in my home office, and read everyday.
    “A very few people are awake. They live in a state of constant total amazement.”
    Thanks for those calming words – a great way to start the week.
    Himanshu – New York City

  2. I am not curious about the otherside.
    Even if GOD exists this side…. People are disghusting…. They will think him human like…
    A man had fallen from a hill and catched a branch… for life…. as he feared death…. prayed to God (god) … please save me….may be he was sincere that moment!!! An anology if you are comfertable…..
    Heard a voice… I am God… to help you…
    He said yes GOD help me I dont want to die…
    God said have you heard my voice before…. He said no… but now I truly belive there is GOD…. Its miracle…
    Lets save me god.
    God said ok then leave the branch…..
    What you think that man must have done???
    Well it depends..
    Think out loud…. see if you in position of that person what will you do…. if you ready with your true answer…
    you will soon hear something ……
    before that just sing your own poem and enjoy….

  3. Is there a purpose to this mindless going around in circles?
    Not just me – the world spinning on its axis for years and years
    with no end in sight
    Is there a point to it?
    Is something supposed to happen at the end of it?
    Through the middle of it?
    Are we all waiting for something?
    Is anything at all going to change if it stops turning?
    Centuries pass, species come and go
    Life forms evolve and reach extinction
    Big deal
    Earthquakes and tidal waves
    Are just shrugs in time anyway
    Does any of it really matter?
    Is god just an invention
    We need to justify
    The pointlessness of it all?
    We’d look pretty stupid huh…
    All these life lessons we keep teaching ourselves
    And no higher power at the end of it

  4. Respected Shekhar ji,
    There is always a conflict- Being and Non-being.
    The most immediate impression man has about his existence is that it is there as a subject of experience, a canvas of sensations, perceptions, ideas, meanings, feelings, desires, mental fluctuations, judgments, etc. As a matter of fact, if there is any problem, the most primordial problem of all it is that human subjectivity or we can say it ego, It is basically a kind of double consciousness, the consciousness of its being present in the world and that of its being present to itself. The fact of presence of ourselves as subjects in the world and of ourselves to ourselves, is the greatest mystery about our humanness. Now the question is whether we are present in the world rather than not being there at all. Whether we are present to ourselves as world experiencers rather than being simply there as perhaps animals are. As egos or subjectivities, whether we are both empirical and open consciousness.
    The phenomenal horizon of subjectivity and the transcendental horizon are the orders of consciousness. The first one being immersed in the data derived from the environment i.e. the world and the people and in the epistemic modes through which the data are derived and the second one is a sort of standing spectator uninvolved in anything that constitutes these data. Thus, phenomenal horizon of subjectivity is world based and as such denotes our ego consciousness but transcendental horizon is the ‘inner man’ the unfathomable ‘nothing’ over which the ‘I’ sense floats.
    Most of us in our ordinary, everyday life operate as phenomenal horizon of subjectivity. This is our routine, in the world existence such as assumptive, categorical, logical, grammatical, contextual, linguistic etc. It is along this existence that thinking, calculating, understanding, decision making, comparing and numerous other intellectual processes take place. Even in introspection and self analysis it is phenomenal horizon of subjectivity that doubts, interrogates, shuffles and reshuffles its position as an introspector, plays the language games, robes and unrobes meaning inside and outside linguistic expressions. Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity thus is the cogitating subject that we at any given moment during our wakeful life find ourselves to be.
    Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity is outside Transcendental horizon whose main characteristic is open awareness. Transcendental horizon presents itself as a pure reflection, as a field against which Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity appears as a figure. Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity is double edged in the sense that it has a background thinning itself into a nothing and a foreground receptive to and delimited by the reality of the physical world. However, what is enigmatic as regards its very act of being in the world is that it is never without a Feeling that its background extends into an elusive transcendental horizon.
    The expressions atman, purusa, Sunya, Existenz, Being, Pure Ego, speak an awareness that transcends Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity. The most direct expression of transcendental horizon is its role of witnessing Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity. To transcendental horizon, Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity is present, active and engaged in situations and worldly affairs. But transcendental horizon can not encompass itself, since it is an expanse where most primal meaning-forms seem to telescope into a serene mass of essences, universals, memory and above all, into the unique abyss of trans-mental nothing. If we become introspective and direct our mind on to the fringe of Phenomenal horizon of subjectivity we realize that here the awareness of presence slowly fades out into a background of esoteric and undecipherable absence, i.e., sheer quality less Non-being.
    A.K. Bhattacharyya
    Directorate of Advertising and visual Publicity
    New Delhi-110003

  5. On the Other Side – Pleasures of Poetry
    Dear Shekhar,
    I’d like to post some poetry here, other’s and mine. I liked the title of one of your poems, and I think it’ll form a suitable title for the poetry collection.
    Hey! With the clay you dug out
    I fashioned a Buddha.
    The Buddha turned back into clay.
    It rained.
    Clear skies after rain are pointless.
    -Ko Un
    The original poem in Korean translated by Kim Young and Brother Anthony.
    No moon up
    yet the two hundred miles
    between you and me
    shine bright all night long.
    That dog that will die tomorrow
    doesn’t know it’s going to die.
    It’s barking fiercely.
    -Ko Un
    The original poem in Korean translated by Kim Young and Brother Anthony.
    Note: Shekhar, could you please give me the editing privileges for the ‘Pleasures of Poetry’.

  6. 3
    I hadn’t noticed
    till a death took me outside
    and left me there
    that grass lifts so quietly
    and catches everything
    we drop and we drop
    ~Leonard Nathan

  7. 4
    A Moment
    Across the highway a heron stands
    in the flooded field. It stands
    as if lost in thought, on one leg, careless,
    as if the field belongs to herons.
    The air is clear and quiet.
    Snow melts on this second fair day.
    Mother and daughter,
    we sit in the parking lot
    with doughnuts and coffee.
    We are silent.
    For a moment the wall between us
    opens to the universe;
    then closes.
    And you go on saying
    you do not want to repeat my life.
    -Ruth Stone

  8. 5
    Ah! immense space – Giuseppe Ungaretti in translation
    ~Giuseppe Ungaretti
    Ah! immense space
    My soul uplifted
    -tr. Ravi Kopra

  9. 7
    Do You Want A Chicken Sandwich
    the moment my mother opened the door
    to the living room and saw me on the knees
    with my cock in my hand jerking off
    in front of the television set with a hot magazine by my side
    and she gasped and quickly shut the door
    but she did finish what she started to say
    when she first pushed it open which was
    do you want a chicken sandwich
    Okay I said probably to the door and put my cock in my pants
    and went and ate my chicken sandwich
    while in the next room through all of this excitement
    my father was playing the violin always the same old song
    -Norman Stock

  10. 8
    Sometime when I
    begin to think
    I forget what I
    was going to think
    and start thinking
    some other thing –
    like how many legs
    the spiders have,
    how many move
    at one time.
    and when the left
    forward move forward
    do the right rear
    ones follow suit.
    it seems all absurd.
    but what the heck,
    thinking is thinking
    after all and I have
    the right to think
    what I want to think
    any time.
    -Ravi Kopra

  11. 9
    Seven Haiku
    The old pond
    A frog jumps in –
    The sound of the water
    The old pond
    A straw sandal floating
    Sleet falling
    The old pond
    A lonely heron standing
    Fish under water watching
    -Ravi Kopra
    Fleas feast on my head
    The horse pisses
    By my pillow
    Winter storm –
    Snow, blackout
    She in my bed, so warm
    -Ravi Kopra
    A muddle of mice
    Their shit looks like caraway
    but smells like allspice
    -Paul Muldoon
    Jean stoops to the tap
    set into a maple’s groin
    for the rising sap
    -Paul Muldoon
    (double meaning in the last haiku?)

  12. 10
    He loved her and she loved him
    His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
    He had no other appetite
    She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
    She wanted him complete inside her
    Safe and Sure forever and ever
    Their little cries fluttered into the curtains
    Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
    Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
    He gripped her hard so that life
    Should not drag her from that moment
    He wanted all future to cease
    He wanted to topple with his arms round her
    Or everlasting or whatever there was
    Her embrace was an immense press
    To print him into her bones
    His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place
    Where the real world would never come
    Her smiles were spider bites
    So he would lie still till she felt hungry
    His word were occupying armies
    Her laughs were an assasin’s attempts
    His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
    Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
    His whispers were whips and jackboots
    Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
    His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
    Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
    And their deep cries crawled over the floors
    Like an animal dragging a great trap
    His promises were the surgeon’s gag
    Her promises took the top off his skull
    She would get a brooch made of it
    His vows pulled out all her sinews
    He showed her how to make a love-knot
    At the back of her secret drawer
    Their screams stuck in the wall
    Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
    Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop
    In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
    In their dreams their brains took each other hostage
    In the morning they wore each other’s face
    -Ted Hughes

  13. Day – An Erotic Portuguese poem of Adelia Prado in translation
    As galinhas com susto abrem o bico
    e param daquele jeito imóvel
    – ia dizer imoral –
    as barbelas e as cristas envermelhadas,
    só as artérias palpitando no pescoço.
    Uma mulher espantada com sexo:
    mas gostando muito.
    -Adelia Prado
    The chickens open their beaks in fear
    and stop, they’ve the way of not moving
    – immortal, I was going to say –
    the wattles and crests all red,
    only the arteries in their necks quivering.
    A woman startled by sex,
    but loving it much.
    -tr. Ravi Kopra

  14. 12
    No help for that
    There is a place in the heart that
    will never be filled
    a space
    and even during the
    best moments
    the greatest
    we will know it
    we will know it
    we will know it
    more than
    there is a place in the heart that
    will never be filled
    and we will wait
    and wait
    in that
    -Charles Bukowski

  15. 13
    The happiest moment in a woman’s life
    Is when she hears the turn of her lover’s key
    In the lock, and pretends to be asleep
    When he enters the room, trying to be
    Quiet but clumsy, bumping into things,
    And she can smell the liquor on his breath
    But forgives him because she has him back
    And doesn’t have to sleep alone.
    The happiest moment in a man’s life
    Is when he climbs out of bed
    With a woman, after an hour’s sleep,
    After making love, and pulls on
    His trousers, and walks outside,
    And pees in the bushes, and sees
    The high August sky full of stars
    And gets in his car and drives home.
    -David Lehman

  16. 14
    After great pain a formal feeling comes – Emily Dickinson in Urdu translation
    After great pain a formal feeling comes –
    The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
    The stiff Heart questions – was it He that bore?
    And yesterday – or centuries before?
    The feet, mechanical, go round
    A wooden way
    Of ground, or air, or ought,
    Regardless grown,
    A quartz contentment, like a stone.
    This is the hour of lead
    Remembered if outlived,
    As freezing persons recollect the snow –
    First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
    kisi baRay gum k baad
    ek saada si mehyoosi aati hai
    aisa lagata hai jaisay
    ehasas pur takalluf kabar ban gayay hon
    dukhi dil poochta hai –
    kya jesus nay dukh nahin saha?
    kal ya sadiion pehlay?
    paon apnay aap hi
    kisi takhti k rastay par chaltay hain
    zameen pe, hawaa main
    jahan bhi chalna chaahain
    kisi ki parwah nahin kartay
    jaisay gaar ho sukuun main
    yeh waqat guzar kar bhi nahin guzarta
    hamesha yaad aata hai zindgi main
    jaisay sardi main paray log
    baraf ko yaad kartay hain –
    pehlay thund, phir nasha sa
    aur phir be parwah.
    -tr. Ravi Kopra

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