Mutter et al

I don't think
I can be a mother
till I conquer
the second law of thermdynamics.

Pourqoui

Why is it so hard to be a 'leftist'?
First,
you got to get rid of a supernatural Gott and
stand on you own two feet
and be a wo/man.

I see Che,
bronzed in the forest
walking like
a lion
in torn khakis
and mud stained beret..
and see a giant.

Straddling his inadequecies
his ashthma
his bourgoise roots
like a conqueror.

Walking through the crowd
healing with one hand
blowing bridges with another
seated
centred
still
like Buddha
in the midst
of the storm.

Now that is spiritual conquest.
Not running to a mountain hill
weeping willows
getting stoned
on mantras, prayers
gods.
Being a man
is the hardest thing to do.
harder than being a 'god'.

Opium Hashish et al

I was thinking it may be better to trip on opium
than religion.
at least opium doesnt teach you to hate.
(and with opium, you may only 'harm' yourself)..
Adios amigo.

Sajdah

I am never ever doing a sajdah (prostration)
to anyone
or anything
ever again.

Answer/Jawaab

Koi nauha, koi marsiya, koi elaan e haq,
tumhe tumhare wujood wapas nahin lauta sakta.

lauta sakata hai toh bas ek aks
ek sangeen guftagu
uske se saath.
ek chhota sa experiment
joh
pandarah saal pehele
beech mein chhoot gaya tha.
Useh poora karo.
woh maths ki equations
tumhe
ishq ki tarah bula raheen hain..

woh garam garam chai ke cup
heater saath baitheh
jab main padhti thi
aur sab kucch solve/sulajh jaata tha..

La Dolce Vita et al

So, I finally figured what killed Virginia Woolf.
What nearly got me too.
The sticking to the straight and narrow, hollow domesticity, clipping garden hedges in tea parties.
Not easy to do that for someone essentially a flower-child, La Boheme et al.

Same thing, in the enforced marriage of La Shergill et al..and the confines of 'domesticity' upon an freethinking bisexual artist, who was the paintings she drew.
That era reflects the wider openess of the social, sexual and cultural revolution, shaking the bourgoise status quo of the Victorian ethos. The time of Brecht, Surrealists, marxists and Picasso..
"where the women come and go
talking of Michaelangelo"

Moritz, Sebastian et al

SO, what is with me and these uber-cool European men?
Seems like I have a proclivity to find/fall for the Moritz and Sebastian Koch type. My prototype of L'homme Ideal et al.

Nor surprising, since I dated a couple of lookalikes way back as misty eyed grad student..the intelligence ridden eyes with the uber-hotness, but in a suave understated way. I do not fall for many of the usual icons of Bollywood.. the SRKS and all. Aamir Khan though was and is a favorite. but I love him like a a cutie pie, 'Bade Mamu' (and 'Sunju' of Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar).

But Moritz, aah is a different thing. Those life infused days in Paris, sleeping at the Sorbonne and walking through the Montmatre landscape, lounging students around, and my ex-calling me and asking me sweet questions in his German infused English. I wish I hadnt gone down the desi route..back to the idiot I was dating in school. Stupid desi baggage, I am still trying to unload. My whole idea of relationships, has come back home..to the girl I used to be. To the Moritzes and Berndts and Jans. Thing with them is that they dont have the machismo, (at least most)the air of male bravado, which even the cutest Latin guys may carry. I'd like the breakfast making, slightly feminine male, who is male enough to acknowledge his female side, and sparkles with the incandescent intelligence of a New York Times editorial, smoothing from Revolution to baking a linzertorte when I am in the mood and walking by the Seine in a beret, hot coffee in his hands. Anyways, I have held the bliss of Moritz in my life..and so much happier for it. :)

A relationship like an avant-garde postcard, backpacking in the Himalayas or Andes, smooth as silk and risky as a high rise cliff, but you've never felt safer..

Dilli decadence

ok. I want a decadent, intell, stone rock, english urdu, khaadi roughened, heartbreaking evening in Delhi.
Rabbi di jugni teh Akku di gaddi. teh Dilli da tehelka teh wannabe lit chicks, drinking lattes in Khan market, over Fab india long skirts, maroing line at the handsome M-looking punjabi boys called sandy, who loves ghalib and lives with his firang chik in gk2 barsaati.

To Warsaw

I will go to Warsaw
where the berets
ride the true
glint
of expatriates
and Mazel Tovs
on the trams.

Searching for the glimpse
of the ghetto
which no more
rings with
the burst of gunfire
or burning violins.

Where Petrovskis
and Michniks
sang quintets
in the freezing smoke
simmering
with philosophy
and snowed fire.

Violins

I am a mad German Jew,
playing my violin,
(Brahm's Hungarian dance)
by the barbed wire.

Men in Berets

Men in berets
hunched over chessboards
play violins
in Auschwitz.

Chagall's angels
fly
over death camps
and bring revolution
to the clouds.
simple.
dripping clouds.
floating in incense
the opium is to be drunk straight
wafting through
the debris
of the Republic.

Carry the beloved
through the doorway
and set her down
amidst the rye-bread eaters.
They will be awake.

Constitution of the Loony Republic

This one is for and inspired by my dear friends S and S.

Prelim draft/preamble of Das Constitution of the Ziggy Zumbaland Rrepublic

We the people, of Ziggy Zumbaland do hereby declare that all human beings are created loony and being loony is their inalienable right.
In that, all humans pursue this right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Looniness, we hereby declare that the Republic (nb: Kingdoms are passe since 1789) of Ziggy Zumbaland will work ceaselessly to achieve this right and the people's vote on the looniest person in ZZ land, shall make them an elected representative and Supreme Leader. of the loony people.
We also declare the 'Caterpillar on the hookah' as the official emblem of Das Republic, due to its universal relevance as a symbol of Looniness. The number 62 shall be the official seal of the Republic, to ensure to honorable Herr. Dr Freud, the arch enemy of the loony masses, does not succeed in bringing 'Sanity' ie. their arch-enemy to the (loony) people.
So help us, Loona.

Signed..

Thesis Antithesis

So I recently found my nom de plume 'Leah' is the name of the mother of the 8 tribes of Israel. and pretty much the mother/ grand matriarch of the world's Jews.

The wife of Jacob, the grand patriarch and the mother of the Levites, Judaites, and the scholars (Isaachrites).

I also found that Ashkenazis are not East European technically, but German Jews..'Ashkenaz' being a name for Germany.
Thesis, anti-thesis.

The I read about my good Herr Doktor, as I call Dr. Freud basing his theories upon the law of the conservation of energy.

I've been singing 'Shalom Aleichem' (aka Salaam Aleikum) all day..finding its the traditional song of the Ashkenzis on the Sabbath.

So long, but this song won't let me go- oh oh(as someone sang).

But Hegel and Frued and Brecht are killing me. I am tormented by my lover.
His/ her thesis- anti-thesis between Utopia and Auschwitz, as the recent book pointed out.
The knowledge which comes out of the Universities of Berlin and Heidelberg. between them, defines the modern world.

and I love this prayer..

Shalom aleichem..Ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu.
Peace be upon you...the Blessed One, Most High.

This is a disjointed but united blog..
Call it yinyang, siva shakti, rahm-rahim or the star of David.