FIELDS OF GOLD: EVA CASSIDY.(1990)

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold

The 'GOOD' of it all...

With sacrifice comes a prize and that’s the reason why I don’t mind sacrificing my Saturday afternoons when I get to hear peoples’ VOICES both loud and soft, bold and meek, strange and familiar, mundane, shocking and calming, friendly and cold. With these voices heard, I wouldn’t disagree with the saying that human beings are no carbon copies. We are of the same species yet our thought process can be so different, so individualistic. That’s the wonder of creation! Life’s worth exploring because of this variety and mystery. The workings of the human mind is both intriguing and inviting.

It’s surprising that the same set of questions can generate a million responses that are so well proven, substantiated and convincing. In many ways it’s a revelation and an immense learning experience because these questions are not stereo types that can generate rote answers but rather requires analysis and critical thin king on the part of the speaker.
These speaking sessions are also a window to ‘personalities’. The unique nature of each candidate that enters that room actually kills boredom and monotony. They are a ‘talking inspiration’; charming, assertive, smart, unassuming, meek, proud, intelligent and inspiring. Hours are but seconds and hunger and thirst are forgotten, that’s how involving it is!
A work or art, I’ve come to understand that one cannot fully fathom human nature.

Poem from the Underground: D. J. Enright (1920-2002)

Proud readers,
hide behind tall newspapers.

The young are all arms and legs,
knackered by youth.

Tourists sit bold upright,
trusting in nothing.

Only the drunk and the crazy,
aspire to converse.

Only the poet,
peruses his poem among the adverts.

Only the elderly person,
observes the request

that the seat be offered to the elderly person.

Dunkin Doughnut and Arranged Marriage!

Life’s sweet memories are made of these; friends, food and the conversations. It’s best when the three are assorted, for a broader perspective, colour and vibrancy. Yes, exactly like a box of doughnuts that comes in tongue tingling flavours and eye catching colours; tempting?
No doubt about that for aren't we desperate to add colour to life?
The hectic day starts with a glazed Dunkin donut, courtesy, Mr. Crosbie. He does that often, the morning round of Dunkin Doughnuts and Costa Coffee. That’s his way of caring and sharing! It sure transports us to America for that wee second when we merrily munch that glazed donut. However, the topic of our conversation is ‘Arranged Marriage’! Some things are about acceptance like an arranged marriage which is so natural to us Indians but the same idea brings a wave of shock on other folks like our own Mr. C. He struggles with accepting the very concept while we Indian ladies are all in praise for the age old custom. He wonders how marriage can happen before love and we express our joy in that very suspense. We convince him into believing that marriages are made in Heaven and he wonders how even educated ladies can be so rooted in old beliefs. We don’t change our views and never will, education or no education. Customs are customs even if you start the day with Dunkin doughnut and Costa Coffee!
Variety is the spice of life, therefore it’s important to taste that variety, learn tolerance and acceptance but one also needs to have a firm footing on one’s own set of principles.

STRINGS...

‘STRING’, YES, STRING IS THE THING, the maker or the breaker; maker if you are clever enough to manipulate and breaker if negligent, rash and over bearing!
Super thin, fragile, often unnoticeable but no doubt invincible and powerful. Therefore, don’t let go of the string!
Like in the famous utterance, 'pull your string’and let it pave the way, be tactful, manoeuvre and let it take control of your life. Then, see how like the kite, you soar the highest mountain of your dream, to a realm forever cherished, forever longed!

Artistic, strategic and intelligent should be your ‘moves’ in handling this overtly fragile 'string of life'. Remember, pull the string to serve your purpose; make it the master of your destiny, let it be the sticky cobweb that traps every opportunity so nothing is lost.

Like the stringed instruments that produce music when the chords are in rhythm, the strategic manoeuvering of the 'strings' can help produce an ever lasting music of life’s eternal song. In its tiniest form of near invisibility it can leave a mark,honey like in its sweetness.
Its flexibility if exemplified can be a source of happiness but, if ignored , an abyss, dismal and dark. Petite it is, therefore play it right; let the string of your life not be a mesh of entanglement but rather a kite ,colourful,free, rich and soaring!

WE ARE ONE!

Nature has a strange way of venting out its dislike for men’s so called advanced technology. It lashes out unannounced and all too suddenly, crippling all types of protection devices invented. What’s heartbreaking is that invariably it’s the ‘downtrodden’ that’s victim of nature’s wrath. They are the pawns and subject of everyone’s ridicule, actually. Nature’s fury or man’s anger, the bearers are the innocent, at times it appears that they are like Hercules carrying the weight of the entire universe on their shoulder and paying the price.

Darjeeling, the ‘queen of hills’, was witness to this a fortnight ago. On 21st May 2009, the tropical cyclone AILA said to have originated from the Bay of Bengal brought normal life to a stand still. It lashed the otherwise serene town with incessant storm that brought with it chaos and wreckage. Today, there are uncountable homeless, displaced, missing or dead. Houses have been transformed to debris turning that which was a place of shelter into a grave overnight.
That's the result of nature's fury,wonder what its reaction was with the aftermath. Did it swell in glory or shed tears of regret?
A question such as this is not to be asked yet I’m inquisitive.

However, there’s hope for man stands for man and that’s what one can see in my hometown at present. Darjeeling's well wishers is united in solidarity all for a noble cause. Meetings are held, strategies planned, and funds raised with the intention of providing a safe haven to those in need. Everyone is wholly involved giving the best of their service to fight the odds. What else do we need to prove that we are one?

In the beginning is the end...

Any new beginning starts with hope that promises to see us through like the ‘Green Light’ in ‘Great Gatsby’ which was Jay Gatsby’s ray of hope and a symbol of the American Dream.
There’s enormous excitement, positivity, zeal and enthusiasm in this spirit of newness. It’s like a child’s new found toy that keeps him engaged for a period of time wherein he experiments, discovers, appreciates and glows in self pride. The twinkle in the eyes and the glow in his face lead him on to further analysis and experimentation till a time when the toy transforms into a precious possession. It has a special significance and you’ll see him clinging onto to it ever so dearly. The disappointment that he experiences if the toy malfunctions is immense and deep.
However, this attitude is only short lived; it changes, just like the weather in my hometown. That same time that brought about attachment brings detachment too and pretty too soon. Sooner or later the interest and the discovery factor dies. The toy now is a thow away object .That aura has vanished and the child now notices the otherwise invisible defects. It’s too plastic, too metallic, too noisy, too big or too tiny. What was once so priceless is now too cheap and deserves being discarded. The heart and the house are too small to hold objects of no significance.
Therefore what once was the beginning of hope is now ‘a valley of ashes’; just as death follows life ‘SURU’ or the beginning anticipates an end.