Mutability

The flower that smiles to-day

To-morrow dies;

All that we wish to stay

Tempts and then flies.

What is this world’s delight?

Lightning that mocks the night,

Brief even as bright.

 

Virtue, how frail it is!

Friendship how rare!

Love, how it sells poor bliss

For proud despair!

But we, though soon they fall,

Survive their joy, and all

Which ours we call.

 

Whilst skies are blue and bright,

Whilst flowers are gay,

Whilst eyes that change ere night

Make glad the day;

Whilst yet the calm hours creep,

Dream thou—and from thy sleep

Then wake to weep.

 

By P.B. Shelley

The Day I killed a Sparrow

I smell some fish somewhere. Where? That I need to find out, of course, and how carefully and intelligently I find that out will astonish you my friend, astonish you. Okay, I don’t want to waste my time telling you all about my plans. But, on a serious note what I am going to talk about now will horripilate you my friend, horripilate you.

This happened yesterday as my benefactor lazed on a chair the whole afternoon, quite ill at ease, how suddenly then with the flutter of its wings a sparrow perched upon the railings of my window, my window, mind you!

It noticed me. At first I did not mean to do anything, no harm intended really. So I stood where I was, licking my body and making my skin shiny and silky and then scraping my benefactor’s boots with my strong and sharp claws, making my claws even sharper and stronger. The sparrow did not move an inch farther. “Is it not intimidated looking at my good self?” I thought. Perhaps not, I realized. “How I scared the hell out of that crow the other day, and this tiny creature here would not move an inch.”

So I straightened and puffed up my body to seem bigger and stronger than I really was. The bird shrugged its body, and then let its droppings fall on my benefactor’s cloths. “How dare you!” said I as loud as I could, “this means war!”

The fool of a bird nodded its head. “Hell and damnation!” cried I, my bloodshot eyes were now fully fixed on the bird and I growled and hissed. Just then did the bird tremble with fear and began flying away, but with utmost dexterity and agility I leaped high up in the air and caught the bird by its neck, killed it, and ate it.

But with great sadness I have to tell you that just as the deed was done, my benefactor grabbed my tail and reprimanded me and went on to slap me hard in the face. “What on earth have you done?” cried he. Then, looking at my bloody mouth and the feathers of the bird scattered beside me, he answered his own question: “Killed a bird, oh, a sparrow!”

He preached at great length the advantages of living together in peace and harmony and made me promise never to kill any living being on earth, not even a mouse.

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

The Ballad Of Father Gilligan

The old priest Peter Gilligan
Was weary night and day;
For half his flock were in their beds,
Or under green sods lay.

Once, while he nodded on a chair,
At the moth-hour of eve,
Another poor man sent for him,
And he began to grieve.

‘I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace,
For people die and die’;
And after cried he, ‘God forgive!
My body spake, not I!’

He knelt, and leaning on the chair
He prayed and fell asleep;
And the moth-hour went from the fields,
And stars began to peep.

They slowly into millions grew,
And leaves shook in the wind;
And God covered the world with shade,
And whispered to mankind.

Upon the time of sparrow-chirp
When the moths came once more.
The old priest Peter Gilligan
Stood upright on the floor.

‘Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died
While I slept on the chair’;
He roused his horse out of its sleep,
And rode with little care.

He rode now as he never rode,
By rocky lane and fen;
The sick man’s wife opened the door:
‘Father! you come again!’

‘And is the poor man dead?’ he cried.
‘He died an hour ago.’
The old priest Peter Gilligan
In grief swayed to and fro.

‘When you were gone, he turned and died
As merry as a bird.’
The old priest Peter Gilligan
He knelt him at that word.

‘He Who hath made the night of stars
For souls who tire and bleed,
Sent one of His great angels down
To help me in my need.

‘He Who is wrapped in purple robes,
With planets in His care,
Had pity on the least of things
Asleep upon a chair.’

William Butler Yeats

Truth and Lie

Truth when you tell

And with pride your chest swell,

Then you have to know something my friend

One who speaks the truth, brings his life to an end

Look at me, battered and in pain, what have I become?

I should have lied and not given such liberty to my tongue  

I should have been submissive and accepted the lie for the truth

I should have known only lies triumph and lies produce sweet fruit

So, learn from me, oh you who are honest and you who speak not lie

I am almost a dead man now; learn from me, oh you who don’t want to die.

 

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

Comma, Full Stop, Delete

It’s been a while since I sat down to write a story so I thought I would give it a try today. In the morning I formed some ideas in my head and worked on it zealously. I wrote three pages. At the last sentence I did not put a full stop, though the sentence seemed absolutely complete. Oh, it is only because I wanted to expand the story a little more, thus I put a comma instead. In the evening I began working on the story once again. I changed the comma to a full stop because I could not think of doing anything about it. My mind fully stopped working. I read what I wrote, it seemed terrible, so I deleted the whole damn thing I had written.

Anyway, not writing the story prompted me to write what you are reading presently. So, thank you for reading (ha!) and I am sorry there is no wisdom in this post. I am going to go ahead and recover what I was writing (for that is the backbone of my story) from the recycle bin of my desktop.

 

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

When I am dead, my dearest

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

 

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

 

By Christina Rossetti

My Cat Says “Meow!”

True indeed, animals have feelings and they express their feelings by different ways, for instance, a dog wags its tail when it is happy, a cat purrs to show its affection or when it wants affection shown to it.

I have a cat (had a dog as well but it died quite an unnatural death). One day, and which, I think, was the day before yesterday, this cat of mine went missing. Making complete use of my eyes and body I looked here, I moved here, I looked there, I moved there, and I looked everywhere where my eyes could see and body could move, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.

Has the cat gone away? Have I lost it? Has someone stolen it? I thought. These thoughts saddened me greatly; heaven knows how dear to me my cat is. Then, determined, I ventured out at… hmmm… the time? Oh, I have no clue what time it was, but this much I can say that the night was pitch black and much heavy rains did fall that night.

Several times I called my cat by its name. No answer did I get in reply – no, not even once. Now I was fully wet with the rain water, but I cared less about whether I was wet or not, for I was more concerned about my cat. An hour had passed away. Then, in the same manner as we turn off the key of the tap when we no longer want water, how suddenly the rains ceased falling as though the gods turned off some key, and everything was quite.

I have never been to the terrace of our building. I had no business there and I was not curios to know what might be there. However, that day when I was looking for my cat, for the first time, I felt it was necessary to go up the stairs and reach the terrace, for I have explored my vicinity in search of my cat, but having no luck, I thought of what remained unexplored, and at the flash of a second I got the answer: the terrace.

Curse my luck, rarely do we face power cut, and further I must say, on the day I went looking for my cat, I realized it was one such rare days. “But I am young and strong and all,” said I to myself, out loud, “being young and strong, who can stop me from climbing a ten-story building!” Thus, I displayed tremendous zeal and reached the peak of our building. And lo and behold! There was my darling cat, but she was not alone, someone was with her, er, what do you call, er… her boyfriend! My cat, upon seeing me, greeted me with a meow, came close to me and started purring (and she said to me, “Master mine, this fellow here is my soul mate.)”. Then, her boyfriend, taking a hint from her, greeted me and started purring as well. “Blessed be thou!” I said to them, and both the cats started purring and mewing at the same time.

 

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS