Louis-Ferdinand Céline:

"Since we are nothing but packages of tepid, half-rotted viscera, we shall always have trouble with sentiment.”

W H Auden:

"But in my arms till break of day / Let the living creature lie. / Mortal, guilty, but to me/ The entirely beautiful."

Monday, January 24, 2011

मन भीमसेन रंगी रंगले

What does one say

when season changes,

another birthday comes and goes,

friend departs,

crow that perches on your balcony every day stops doing so without a warning,

neighbourhood friendly cat who trusted you enough to kitten in your house dies,

stray dog you see every day is without a leg one morning,

a booming (and yet soothing) voice that defined your world, however small and insignificant, is silenced...

Not for me, Dylan Thomas's "Rage, rage against the dying of the light".

Instead only the acceptance of, to paraphrase Sadanand Rege (सदानंद रेगे),

"आमचीही वही कोरी होत चाललीय...".

The only consolation:

"भीमसेन कसले मेले? भीमसेन गातचि बसले"