god of small beings

A BEAUTIFUL MESSAGE FROM RUMI

"What can I do, Submitters to God? I do not know myself.

I am neither Christian nor Jew, neither Zoroastrian nor Muslim,

I am not from east or west, not from land or sea,

not from the shafts of nature nor from the spheres of the firmament,

not of the earth, not of water, not of air, not of fire.

I am not from the highest heaven, not from this world,

not from existence, not from being.

I am not from India, not from China, not from Bulgar, not from Saqsin,

not from the realm of the two Iraqs, not from the land of Khurasan

I am not from the world, not from beyond,

not from heaven and not from hell.

I am not from Adam, not from Eve, not from paradise and not from Ridwan.

My place is placeless, my trace is traceless,

no body, no soul, I am from the soul of souls.

I have chased out duality, lived the two worlds as one.

One I seek, one I know, one I see, one I call.

He is the first, he is the last, he is the outer, he is the inner.

Beyond "He" and "He is" I know no other.

I am drunk from the cup of love, the two worlds have escaped me.

I have no concern but carouse and rapture.

If one day in my life I spend a moment without you

from that hour and that time I would repent my life.

If one day I am given a moment in solitude with you

I will trample the two worlds underfoot and dance forever.

O Sun of Tabriz (Shams Tabrizi), I am so tipsy here in this world,

I have no tale to tell but tipsiness and rapture"

So now i am working in a call centre. Trained for dealing with customer Queries.
I am in a big city . Living lost, living on informations vital for survival. As vital as air, food and sunlight.
I know i have struggled to come here. I have left a job thast was more secure and more profitable. Still I have to catch hold of myself. Still I seem far from what i want.
Freedom is an absract term. The battles a person fights, the distance he walks, the lessons he learns in the way are the table of contents for his chapter of freedom. Otherwise it is nothing. What does it matter he retorted to the cruel; stood for someone, and himself or not?

May every fighter find peace at the end of the battle.

Something went wrong with sky
Something made it look so dry
Something just so meaninglessly true
About this Oligochrome Rainbow

Was it all right the day before
Was it looking all this much sore
Was it a question in my mind
Or was it just the routine find

So what thay say was almost right
Beware if the colours look so bright
For then your world may all go dark
No place, nobody, no sign, no mark

And it started with that bubble again
And again it ended with cycles of pain
Sorry sky, I'm not there for you
Sorry me for what I'm going through

Oh why can't we have it many times
And have it once it matches the rhymes
And say it ours and more than that
Rather say it's me, blatantly flat

Yes there are simply ways to see
To see the sky happy and glee
But wasn't it meant to be blue
For my Oligochrome Rainbow

A Thousand Splendid Suns

The book tells the story of two women with a generation between them married to the same man in the war torn and god forsaken land of taliban. The warin Afghanistan has touched the limits of inhuman approaches towards sustaining life. The country needs support of the people around the world in their pursuit for liberty and soverneity.
aboutthe book, it's a beautiful tale, the story is so gripping that when i was reading the section wen the women were escaping, I prayed, "Oh god led them escape" ! The nuances are the piece of art.

Back after a long time on this blog I see myself again from the glasses of the past and concluded I am a happy person afterall.
Something remained in of each day and each moment.
maybe moments are not complete, quantized spaces in time. The part that imprints is always with you no matter how hard u try to get rid of it and the part that passes by is gone just the next moment, lost forever.
Anyhow the gr8 thing was that i remember the password to logg in!

long long time........
blogging is damn good. i found pages from my past just because of the blogs.
Does time really heals? Or a loss is forever, something taken from you and you miss it miserably? And even if you are not missing it, the vacuum becomes a part of you. You are aware of it. you feel it.
you live with it. Even when time passes, you become accotomed to it. you are not angry about it, but you know something is lost. A belief that you were a part of is broken, raped, disgraced.
Even then it is life, and you continue living.....

This is a book about religions, understood and misunderstood. Practiced and Unpracticed. Thought and Unthought. Called for and regretted.
Yann Martel found the spirit of his pen in Pondicherry. The story how Piscine Patel becomes pissing patel and then Pi patel fr thesake of its honor is justthe beginning of the story. at times hillarious at times serious, the story is unorthodox in defining religion and their roles in this world.