Kaleidoscope

Friend, Philosopher, Guide

The Unending Fellowship of Undying Friendship

North Campus Nostalgia...

"Here on this seat my body may shrivel up, my skin, my bones, my flesh may dissolve, but my body will not move from this seat until I have attained Enlightenment." - Gautam Buddha

I yearn to be there...the need to have Chai, converse, express, understand and feel is overpowering...J.P. Tea Stall... D-School... The ledge under the tree...F.R.I.E.N.D.S. - Our immortal symposium... Discussions and confessions - family, classes, books, friends, food, teachers, poetry, depression, love, feelings, music, frustrations, dance, movies, home, life... every little thing!
Faculty of Arts... those foggy mornings, beautiful evenings, bright faces, warm smiles... Our classroom... musty with some disarrayed broken benches... large windows overlooking the faculty below... chalk-less classes juxtaposed with the duster-less ones... the microphone...sometimes in a lullaby mood in the most important classes; and at times partially deafening us with its howls and screeches.
The Central Library... dusty, mouldy, moth-eaten books stacked in innumerable shelves... as we open them the sepia tinged pages blotched with ink fall apart... smell intoxicating! Chaucer, Milton, Aristotle, Woolf, Bronte, Eliot, Shelley, Homer, Naipaul, Neruda, Tagore, Conrad, Osborne, Genet,Sappho and others recline together in their timeless, perpetual, phoenix like discourse...
I wish I had time... time to be there forever. Thank you Drishashitesh for painting my memories with the polychromatic shades of sublime exuberance.

Poetry Dedication

''Above the ponds, beyond the valleys,

The woods, the mountains, the clouds, the seas,

Farther than the sun, the distant breeze,

The spheres that wilt to infinity

My spirit, you move with agility

And, like a good swimmer who swoons in the wave

You groove the depths immensity gave,

The inexpressible and male ecstasy.

From this miasma of waste.

You will be purified in superior air

And drink a pure and divine liqueur,

A clear fire to replace the limpid space

this boredom and fatigue, this vast chagrin

Whose weight moves the mists of existence,

Happy is he who vigorously fans the senses

Toward serene and luminous fields—wincing!

The one whose thoughts are like skylarks taken wing

Across the heavens mornings in full flight—

Who hovers over life, understanding without effort

The language of flowers and mute things.''

~ Elevation, Charles Baudelaire

''Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.''

~ The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

''...Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all--

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

And how should I presume?

...No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool...''

~ The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

Exclusive Essence

Polychromatic Perspectives