Tomorrow

A wintry day in school,
Learning by wrote, conformance is rule,
Everyone seems to catch on in class,
But I, who yet again forgets homework, detention alas!

At lunch I play alone,
A snow cannonball aimed for my head,
Missed by a few inches,
This whole school thing is way overblown,

Mom is in hospital,
A problem gynecological,
Should be back in a week?
She is so far, we can’t see her, nor speak.

Dad makes egg omelet yet again,
Outside snow falls thick,
Dear God, bring mommy back, Amen,
My sister breaks her tooth.

Next morning I feign sickness,
Dad is too clever to fool,
He packs us lunch and sends us off to school,
Wrapped up in woolens, snow shoes, and beanie hats.

Andrea is my only friend,
I walk with my head down; won’t confide nor vent,
It’s been longer than a week, why won’t she come back?
I take my itchy beanie hat, and stomp all over it.

Back at home Dad looks happy and bemused,
My teacher called to complain,
But he has better News,
Mom is coming back home tomorrow!

Why is it…?

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Why have we studied the cosmic skies for Ages?
Yet we know so little?
Why do we try to clone man and play God?
Yet we have no cure for common cold?
Why is that we worry about Extra Terrestrials?
Yet we don’t know our next door neighbor?
Why is that the universe is constantly expanding?
Yet our hearts fail to follow?
Why is it that science claims to have all answers?
Yet it has none for how man was made?
Why is it that we study the seasons, the weather and tides?
Yet we cannot control our own mind?
Why is it that each year we think we grow wiser?
Yet life raises more questions than it answers?
Why is that we question, wonder and expostulate?
When all we have is bunch of curious questions without answers.

Killing the ANT’s

Ants are the dark black insects that infest your backyard and can easily ruin your picnic plans. But far worse are the ANT’s (Automatic Negative Thoughts) that can infest one’s mind and wreak havoc to one’s mental equilibrium. The mind is a powerful place with its capacity to learn and imagine. As humans we were not born with wings and yet we fly (in planes), we were not born with gills and yet we can stay underwater (in submarines), we were not meant to scale heights yet we climb them every day (in skyscrapers). We achieve the impossible daily because we have the power to imagine, and what we can imagine we can achieve.

It is this power of imagination that can be our biggest friend and foe. Sometimes the brain can go off-track and start imagining situations that are destructive and hurt our ability to keep a positive mental attitude. Over the years, we all accumulate baggage from our past experiences. These experiences were meant to teach us a lesson, but some of us find it hard to forgive ourselves and others for the pain and anguish such experiences may have caused. The more we ponder on these negative incidents the more negative experiences we attract in our lives.

The value of having a positive mental attitude is not unknown to anyone. “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrnes is full of positive advice on the law of attraction and positive thinking and has sold 19 million copies for a reason.

Why do we continue to fall into our old ways of negative thinking?

Unfortunately, Automatic Negative thoughts invade our mind and create a toxic environment for positivity and creativity to breed. Like the ants that infest the backyard, they build colonies and breeding grounds of negativity. Because these thought processes are so automatic it is hard to control them. What’s more they come in armies and work incessantly to eating the mind from the inside out. Just allowing one negative thought is enough to open the floodgates to the whole entire army.

While difficult, we can kill the ANT’s with a few simple, albeit repetitive strategies. Unfortunately, these strategies have to be repetitive until we have achieved a place in our mind where negativity completely eludes us. Until then, try these simple strategies to stop the ANT’s from taking over your mind.

Awareness: The beginning to any change in life is always at the same place: awareness. Becoming aware of one’s own thoughts is crucial. It is easy to get carried away and ruminate in negative thoughts instead check yourself the moment a negative emotion comes to mind. Try to create a mental or a physical check like pinching yourself the moment you notice you are on negative thought pattern.

Kill negative emotions with positive ones: I find that the easiest way to kill a negative emotion is to imagine a positive one. Some people even suggest thinking of seven good things the moment a negative emotion hits the mind. I don’t know the significance of the number seven here, because as far as I am concerned I can barely think of three before my negative thought pattern is already broken. Positive thoughts can include; thinking of a small achievement, or a time in your life when you were perfectly happy, or even thinking of someone you love. If that does not work, try sending your loved one positive mental vibes. Nothing is a bigger boost of positivity than knowingly doing something good for a loved one.

Stay Busy: An empty mind is often the devil’s workshop. ANT’s usually strike the empty mind. I find that keeping myself mentally challenged helps me stay positive. Hans Urs von Balthasar said, “What you are born with is God’s gift to you, what you make of yourself is your gift to God.” I interpret this saying as the ability to continually challenge one to do better, achieve more and improve one’s mental and physical prowess. Staying busy with work and hobbies are keys to improving one’s own self respect and positive mental attitude.

Having goals: Having a set of clearly defined goals is imperative to achieving success. Some people never even make goals. It is hard to get to your destination if you don’t know your destination in the first place? If you don’t have strong goals in life then it is never too late. Start now and start small. “Losing 10 pounds by summer” is as equally an acceptable goal as is, “Writing a book in two years.” Goals give us motivation to work hard towards a destination. So even if you haven’t reached your goal of losing 10 pounds by summer, you may well be headed in the right direction. So what if you have only lost five pounds and started eating healthy? You are half way to achieving your goal. High Five!

Meditating: Some people find meditation to be extremely therapeutic in order to come to terms with one’s own negative emotions of hurt and neglect. Personally, I find it hard to meditate. Yet I do achieve a meditation like state when I do yoga, write or paint. If you are like me and find it hard to meditate, then maybe there is something you enjoy doing that gives you peace of mind?

Gratitude: Being grateful for the friends and family in our life gives us an opportunity to ponder on what we have versus what we are missing. And while it is important to be grateful for the joy others bring to our lives, it is equally important to be grateful to our own self. Too often in order to achieve our dreams we play it too hard on our self. Constantly berating our self if we fail or miss even a small deadline. The body we take for granted is actually on loan to us and will eventually be taken away. Be grateful for it. Be grateful also for the mind that has given us so many astounding qualities and abilities to write, read, learn, sing, paint, dance and so forth. Remember, what we feel inside we project outside.

Constant Self improvement should be a never ending goal in life. Killing the ANT’s and creative a positive mental attitude creates an environment for peace, happiness and continuous self improvement.

Inspired By Daily Post

What happened to Max?

She laid her claim on Max,
Eagerly pulled him off the racks,
The moment they first met, inside the underbelly of Hertie,
Mama’s favorite department store in Germany.

A white furry Teddy bear him,
And pig-tailed, brown eyed girl she,
Became best friends and buddies,
She was six and he was fresh off the racks,

He followed her everywhere,
On her Odyssey to the deep jungles of Amazon,
Shipwrecked with her on the man-eating island no other would dare,
She sowed a web of stories and he played each character with a flair.

She turned girly by thirteen,
Painted her nails and wore designer jeans,
Invited the girls to her pajama parties,
But Max was in on all her schemes.

By sixteen she drifted into a new world,
High school and boys, a new life unfurled,
Max moved into a dark closet,
His position usurped.

And the day came, when she left abroad for college,
By now Max had weathered hands of time,
Washed and dried and stitched with patches,
Max stayed behind.

She flew the world and lived her dreams,
And came back home four years later,
Midst joy and tears and crushing embraces,
By nightfall she had talked herself weary,

And retired to her room, she searched,
Inside cupboards and closets, the old attic upstairs,
but failed to find, her childhood friend and buddy,
And wondered in dismay, “Whatever happened to Max?”

Inspired by Daily Post

50 Essential Books of Poetry That Everyone Should Read

I loved this article curating the best poetry books. Please check it out!

I sold my little sister

I sold my little sister,
When I was seven and she a wailing two
She kept us up with cries all night,
Her tangled hair and clumsy walk,
Her yellow dress, and squeaky shoes.

My mother made me watch over her,
I rather go out and play,
So one day at the neighbor’s farm,
I sold my burden for a puppy white as day,

But by evening my morning cheer was gone,
My little puppy too heavy to carry, too little to play,
Tiny hands curled into sweaty fists,
As I wondered, “What would they do, what would they say?”

Was it too late to change my mind?
“But a sale is a sale, no returns”
Chided the neighbor with the toothy smile”,
With head sunk down into my toes,
I walked the puppy back to home.

With teary eyes I rang the doorbell,
And looked into my Mother’s frowned forehead,
She greeted me with gushing kisses and warm embrace,
“Where have you been all day, my child?”

At the hearth a fire kindled,
And my little sister played beside,
Giggles and laughter floated the room,
and a tiny tear escaped my eyes,

Decades have passed since that day,
Now Tatjana has kids older than two,
But I can’t stop thanking the kind neighbor,
Who stopped by to return my sister soon after I made the sale.

And many more decades shall pass,
Before I forget the day when I almost sold my sister,
I was seven and she a wailing two.

Thresholds

We find ourselves on the threshold of life changing moments, at least a few times in our lives. Thresholds may be subtle or more pronounced “aha” moments when we experience life with the full realization that life as we knew it has changed irrevocably, and that we have stepped into the realms of “no return”. We all experience these moments during the natural transition of life; moving from infancy into adolescence, and then again into adulthood, and so forth. There are other moments when we experience a sudden loss or a deeper life altering experience that changes the direction of our lives forever.

Life’s major thresholds such as: graduation, marriage, birth, divorce, death etc bring feelings of anticipation, anxiety, trepidation, joy, anger or loss. But then there are thresholds that are so obscure and possibly unrelated; we do not even know we crossed them until much later. These could be Historic moments that are out of our control, and change our world for the better or worse. Examples include; landing of man at moon, Reunification of Germany, Assassination of JFK, bombing of the World Trade Center and so forth. We may as well have been a part of these momentous times as they happened, but the full effect of such incidents is truly understood only in hindsight.

Although change is a continuous process, thresholds are distinct points in our lives that open a floodgate of change, awareness and awakening. Because the only thing constant in life is change, it behooves us to look at change in a positive light and with the stoic acceptance that everything happens for the best. Each change no matter how uncomfortable, opens in itself a pandora’s box of opportunity, learning and wisdom. Inpired by Weekly photo challenge

The Witch

History is testimony to the atrocities that have been meted out unjustly to the poor and weak in society. Women have unfortunately gotten the worst of the deal. While it is important to look forward and be proud of the accomplishment women have achieved thus far, it is equally important to look back and pay heed to history. For history repeats itself. Unfortunately, women have been burnt under the guise of religion, ritual and faith around the world in distant and recent past.

This poem is written in 3 parts and is loosely based on the Witch trials that took place in colonial Massachusetts between February 1692 and 1693, famously known as the Salem Witch trials. I decided to add Prequel and a Sequel to my exisiting poem called “The Witch”, since I thought it was imperative to end my poem on a positive note and show, that no matter how monstrous an act may be, it cannot shatter the hope and faith of the innocent.

i. The Girl

In the green valley betwixt the far mountains,
There once lived a little girl,
Sheba of the pastures, meadows and fountains,
Apple of her father’s eyes; peerless pearl

She had magic in her hands,
Her childhood companions; animals and birds,
She could cure the blight of any cursed land,
Blithely hopping in the wilderness on her fleeting sojourns.

Her father taught her to catch a game,
To make a clean kill, causing no fear nor pain,
To shoot a perfect arrow, or a wild animal to tame,
She would be the greatest witch; this was preordained.

But little did she foresee, that her father whom she adored,
Would be lost to her while killing a wild boar,
For the beasts feral power did he mistakenly underscore,
And thus came she to live orphaned in the meadows evermore.

ii. The Witch

There once lived a woman, alone on the mountain top,
So infamous, that no child strayed past in play or in jest,
lest she may drop, the child in her burning black pot,
The pot that brewed magic potions and evil in her breast.

So wicked was she, to Satan did she pray,
And cast her dark spells on the village,
Condemning the people to die of plague,
Countless souls did she and Satan pillage,

Until one night, tired of her afflictions, the villagers did hunt,
with pitchforks and torches, her hut did they burn,
But the sly woman fled, rather than confront,
Her home razed and the meadows burned for her never to return.

“O’ Magistrate, ’tis sad they should hate, what they do not understand,
And slander the innocent, beat the weak,
No magic potions, no evil spells did I brew, upon this blessed land,
All I hoped was to undo, the pain of the poor and hurt of the meek,

These wild herbs, some prayers and my two hands,
is all I used to cure,
yet they slander me, banish me from my meadow lands?
‘Tis as well the birds warned me, & I fled alone and obscure”

The magistrate believed her doleful story,
yet to the gallows did he her send,
For what else could he have done? On him the masses would have turned,
With knives and pitchforks, tempestuously burned!

Why do they hate that which they fear?
To hate than to reason, to kill than to save; is hardly a glitch,
To the gallows did she leave, with a prayer and a tear,
While the crowds in unison sang, “Burn the Wicked Witch”

iii. Spring Equinox

The Bewildered village elders saw,
On the third day from the day the witch was burned,
Unexplained happenings, around the time of the spring equinox,
Even as the plague gnawed the lives of men & women spurned.

While the witch breathed no more,
Her name spread across the village and woods like wildfire,
A song echoed the hamlet, sung by the blind troubadour,
The louder he sang, the lesser the plague harangued the shire.

“The witch still lives, in the woods and daisies,
The mountains and the meadows echo her songs,
You can chose to hide the truth,
But truth rings louder than any church gongs”

And the hapless Magistrate saw,
His little girl emulate the ways of the witch,
She prayed to mother earth, and her powers from nature did draw,
And hundreds of witches came out of their shadows the old church to ditch,

Never again shall mother earth be defiled, or a woman burned,
The clergy men saw with disdain, a revolution churn,
Rumors spread, that believers have seen the Father and daughter return,
To the green valley, around this time of the Spring equinox.

P.S- This poem including all original works on this blog unless explicitly stated are © copyrighted to Ubecute 2014.

The Power of Empathy

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Empathy is not just another obscure human virtue. Empathy is one of the most powerful yet underrated qualities that can truly change the face of the world. It promises world peace, brotherhood and true happiness. In truth, empathic people not only build a better life, but also build a more stable future and more enduring relationships for themselves. It is one of those qualities that mean win-win for everyone.

History proves that while humans are capable of great acts of kindness, love and sacrifice they are also capable of unfathomable acts of cruelty and barbarism. Heinous crimes have been committed over the centuries against the downtrodden, poor and weak. These crimes may well have been set off by a few select demagogues around the world, yet the reason these crimes took the shape of wars and genocides is because thousands of people were brainwashed into joining the war against humanity. Sometimes, the only thing standing in between a human and a human capable of committing monstrous acts is Empathy.

Empathy is the power to place oneself in another man’s shoes, and to view the world from his perspective. Empathy is the realization of the presence of good in oneself as in another. It puts the “me” on an equal plane level with “you” so that now we are on the same ground level to breed love, respect and friendship.
In this respect, Empathy is markedly different from pity. Pity is a negative emotion; it immediately puts “me” on a higher pedestal than “you” being the object of pity. Pity can only breed hatred and contempt in the long run. Any help given out of pity may help the recipient in the short run, but in the longer run will impede his growth as it will be a blow to his self-confidence. Furthermore, it will cause derision in the heart of the recipient and erode your relationship. Never do an act of kindness out of Pity. For Pity does not equate to kindness.

But we live in a materialistic world and have become accustomed see everything from the point of view of “What’s in it for me?” A fair question.

There is more to be gained for the individual practicing empathy than the altruistic ideal of becoming a beacon of light to the world. Empathy and Emotional Quotient have a deeply symbiotic relationship; one breeds on the other. And while a person’s intellect and success in academia may get you your dream job, believe it or not, it is Empathy that will win your alliances with influential people, and increase your chances of success at work.

No matter how intelligent and capable you are, the truth is your capacities alone will amount to little. To do big things, you need a strong support from your colleagues. Empathizing with your associates improves your relationships and builds mutual trust and alliance. Any workplace where people do not trust or respect one another cannot be conducive to growing mentally or nurture ideas. The more respect you give the more you will see it coming back, something that can only be attested by those who practice it.
So how do you become more empathic? Nothing describes Empathy better than, this line from the Bible:

“Do to others, as you would have them do to you.”

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+6:31
When faced with making difficult situations or passing judgment on others, take a moment to step back and place yourself in the other person’s shoes. If we have the capacity to place ourselves in the shoes of the very people we ridicule or deride, we will slowly lose our hatred towards them. If you like to be appreciated for a job well done, then appreciate others. Take a moment to appreciate the friend who opens the door for you at your office, or the person at Starbucks who hands you the coffee. If someone honks at you rudely on your drive to work, force yourself to give them a mental hug. Even if it does not change your relationship with that person, it will give your mind a shot of feel-good hormones.

But here is another important aspect of empathy. While it is important to respect the good in others, never underestimate the good in yourself. For you can only project outside what you feel inside!

Also remember that being empathetic does not mean putting your own needs of self-respect secondary to others. Again, empathy puts two people on the same ground level, not one higher than the higher. Committing or accepting any act of injustice towards anybody including yourself is wrong. While it is wrong to hurt others, it is equally wrong to accept any abomination, indignity and unjust behavior, no matter who the source of the injustice is. Stand up for yourself, irrespective of the consequences, and if that does not work, remove yourself from the source of injustice. There is plenty of good and kindness in this world, position yourself in places and midst people you can channel it.

Empathizing is an invisible ladder into someone’s heart. If we are truly all made in the form of God, then empathy allows us to see Godliness in ourselves and others.

This picture was taken from http://www.biographyonline.net/people/diana/charity_work.html an article that showcases the philanthropic works done by Princess Diana.

Inspired by Daily Post

Street Life: Sunset Boulevard

Here are some pictures of West Hollywood including pictures of Chateau Marmont a hotel on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, California. Built in 1927, this hotel is famous for A-listing sightings and a curious history including the untimely death of comedian John Belushi due to drug overdose. A celebrity hideout for famous Hollywood stars such as Robert De Niro, Errol Flynn, Bob Dylan, Clark Gable, Paul Newman, John Lennon & Yoko Ono, Jim Morrison, Marilyn Monroe, Boris Karloff, Carole Lombard, Mick Jagger, Ringo Starr, Jean Harlow, Sidney Poitier, Dustin Hoffman, William Holden, Jessica Lange, Led Zepplin and many, many more. The place has a forbidding air to it that makes it ever more mysterious and interesting.

The Viper Room also located in West Hollywood California, in close proximity to the Chateau Marmont, is infamous as the place where actor River Phoenix died due to drug overdose in 1993. Like the Chateau the Viper Room too is a Hollywood celebrity hangout.

This is the spot that River Jude Phoenix died at the age of 23, due to a drug induced heart failure and thus ended a promising career and an extraordinary life.

This is the famous Roxy theatre in West Hollywood, California. Roxy Theatre started in 1974, and soon after made it into the Rocky Horror picture show. Famous bands and artists such as Neil Young, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, and Red Hot Chili Peppers played here.

Here are some more pictures of the famous sunset Boulevard, bustling with city life and traffic. Enjoy!

Inspired by Weekly Photo Challenge: Street Life

Reflections

Tethered to life by a flimsy lifeboat,
Like a fetus bound to the umbilical cord,
Desire to survive; to stay afloat,
Under the devouring heavens, prayers soared,

Haplessly marooned on an ocean blue,
Long nights and merciless days,
Hope wanes, life plays peekaboo,
Rations dry up, strength decays,

Left a goodbye note inside a glass bottle,
A note to loved one, an apology colossal,
“I wish I had never left you my love, for this journey ill fated,
Wish I had stayed back, in your arms satiated,
A single hope implores me on,
To see your face once more, my beautiful paragon”,

A speck of lifeboat this, lost on the farthest echelon,
Of the blue earth, slowly dwindling…until gone.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/25/prompt-moments-to-remember/

Self Reflection

Hearst Castle

Mallards in a lake

Rainbow

“Love your Enemies, for they tell you your Faults.”

By Benjamin Franklin : http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/self-reflection

Cinderella: A snobbish rant on a favorite fairytale

Believe me, I am not against the idea of fairy tales. There is nothing better than a heart warming fairy tale read over bed time with a glass of warm milk and chocolate cookies. However, as times change so should the depiction of popular characters in fairy tales and Children’s stories. Children have a strongly receptive mind and childhood is the best time to bolster their mind with powerful thoughts.

I feel some of our fairy tales like “Cinderella” need to be updated to mirror the modern times. “Wishing” for things does not make dreams come true. While fairy tale stories are great to read and watch, life is about planning and hard work. Waiting for a “hero” figure does not help. Being a woman, I cannot help but be completely in awe of other women who manage to achieve so much every day! These women wear so many hats (that of a mother, wife, daughter and a career woman) and march on tirelessly… Woman today have come such a long way from the hapless Cinderella who indeed had no option than to wait for a Prince Charming to come and rescue her from her evil Step Mother and Step Sisters. Why wait for poor Prince charming to fight off the evil trio, he probably has his own daemons to fight. We have to take the reins of our life in our own hands, and march on. Here is a new glimpse to the Cinderella story. Hope you like it?

Cinderella

Who was Cendrillon?
A beautiful girl with two step-sisters and a step-mom?
The girl who lost her glass slipper only to have the prince slip it on,
And sweep her off her feet, amidst celebration and aplomb?

Was she a princess, or just a girl next door?
Was she a soul perfect and pure?
Known as Cinderella, Cenerentola, Aschenputtel, another name that girls adore,
Or just a childish fable that somehow times did endure?

People need a reason to believe,
Cinderella; not a person but a belief so deep,
That good will win over evil; a hope so primeval,
That Life should have a meaning; as you sow, so shall you reap.

Elders have a way to instill; morals that they shall themselves not follow,
A way to nurture young to do good, not by choice but fear,
Stories of hardship and ensuing grandeur; promises empty & hollow,
Cinderella; more than a bedside story, she is the carrot that a mare endear

If I had a daughter, I would teach her to fight,
Stand up for herself, and for those who won’t,
Waiting for a fairy godmother, or a prince to rescue, is a sad plight,
The days of Cinderella are old school, I shall teach mine to test their own might!

Inspired by Daily Post

The Witch

This poem is inspired by the series of Witch trials that took place in colonial Massachusetts between February 1692 and 1693, famously known as the Salem Witch trials.

The Witch

So wicked was she, to Satan did she pray,
And cast her dark spells on the village,
Condemning the people to die of plague,
Countless souls did she and Satan pillage,

These wild herbs, some prayers and my two hands,
is all I used to cure,
yet they slander me, banish me from my meadow lands?
‘Tis as well the birds warned me, & I fled alone and obscure”

The magistrate believed her doleful story,
yet to the gallows did he her send,
For what else could he have done? On him the masses would have turned,
With knives and pitchforks, tempestuously burned,

P.S- This poem including all original works on this blog unless explicitly stated are © copyrighted to Ubecute 2014.

Nature

It’s way past midnight,
All decent men safe in their homes,
The hour is rife for drunken brawls and fistfights,
In the alleyways only trouble and evil roam.

I walk the cobbled roads, tired but conceited,
No goal in mind; lost and sleepless,
My brazen knife in my breast pocket, still unsheathed,
I wander the dark, alone and heedless.

When my startled ears, pick a voice so sweet,
More alluring than a nightingale song,
My legs comply, while my brain warns of wile deceit,
Is this a calypso, or a hapless maiden lovelorn?

The ghetto streets I walk, tunnel magically into a Babylonian garden,
She turns around more beautiful than life, this ethereal maiden,
And gently lets her black hair down, off fly a thousand raven,
Carved with perfection, looking at her is divine, it’s salvation!

Who are you? What magic, what witchery? Pray tell me?
She opens her mouth to speak, I am entranced,
Her lips are blossoms, and her eyes a shimmering blue sea,
“I am sun, moon and stars.” And around her a hundred peacocks dance.

“I made you and all of this mankind.
This land that you walk, the wine you drink, the air you breathe,
Is mine. Yet you forget me; your soul? How foolish. How unkind!
You destroy, defile me? I am Nature. Your mother divine!”

Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

P.S- All original work on this blog is copyrighted to Ubecute.

City of Angels

City of Angels

Here lies my city built on dreams and hopes,
Look at these massive highways and roads,
Muscle of men against nature juxtaposed,
Studded along the aquamarine coast; rich abodes.

This is the city of angels, the city of stars,
Glitz and glamour, high rise and malls,
Connected by arteries of sweat and blood,
Birthed by humans not demigods or Avatars.

Some say it is not what it used to be,
Traffic jams, crimes and rising debt,
Opulent, mercurial and bourgeoisie,
Who cares? Bigger cities fade against its silhouette.

Here stretches our city, built with love and flair,
Heavenly abode to its millions,
Where nature and industry combine; a wondrous affair,
Here dreams come true for this is the City of Angels.

Inspired by Daily Prompt

Why do you Blog?

So why do you blog? Clearly, blogging takes a lot of time, effort and persistence. Is blogging worth the huge investment of time and effort?

Your answer may be similar to one of the answers below, or it may be different (in which cases please enlighten me in the comments section)

I blog to share my ideas with the world
I blog to improve and hone my writing skills
I blog to connect with other people who have similar interests
I blog because ultimately I want to be a writer
I blog to help others
I blog to share my story

On the outset we may all have our own reason to blog: need to connect, to be heard, to share, to become famous, to help and so forth. But at the very core we are all doing the same thing; we are sharing a story.

The rules of existence are preemptively the same for everyone irrespective of race, nationality, class, gender and so forth. The progression of life from womb to tomb is universal as are the laws of nature except perhaps in the “Curious case of Benjamin Buttons”.

Our experiences are much about similar things and events in life such as birth, youth, love, marriage, divorce, childhood and even death. What makes these experiences different is not the event but our perspective to it. Our ability to view the world differently and color it with our own unique perspective is what makes our stories exciting.

Given below are some pictures I took, of the beautiful ruins in Hampi (a village in northern Karnataka), India. Shown alongside the untouched original picture, is its altered, enhanced version. I cropped some of these pictures and used Adobe Photoshop CS3 to enhance the color. It was enough to give these old ruins a story of their own.

As bloggers not only do we share a story but we are unwittingly leaving our own footprint behind for our generations to come. Never before have so many people been as actively involved in creating information and building history as they are today. In the olden days, writing was considered the domain of the blessed few. This is probably the single biggest reason, why historians have such a tough time, putting together the story of the common man. The ancient historians, writers and poets were paid by the purse of the rulers and the rich merchants. So their art catered to that of the rich and the famous not the common man.

Today, social media is changing not only how information is created and shared but paving the way for how information will be created and consumed in the future. When “Breaking news” happens in the nooks and corners of the world, within a few minutes’ personal stories and pictures start flooding in not from actual reporters but the common people who witnessed it. This is a powerful phenomenon.

News is no longer created just by the reporters working for news agencies such as BBC, CNN, Fox, NBC, Reuters etc. but the billions of eyes and ears that experience these events first hand. These stories are far more exciting, because they have the element of human touch that we can relate to and be moved by. The power to create news and literature is no longer the prerogative of a handful of elitist historians and writers. It is now shared equally with the common man and woman; us the bloggers!

Blogging, is also strengthening the ideals and values that our country holds dear; Freedom of speech and Democracy. Never before could a Josh Moe question the Government, or challenge accepted norms, raise a controversy or even overturn a dictatorial regime. Never before could one reach out to so many people at such a grand scale.

Today, blogging and tweeting have given the common man a loud voice. We don’t have to be famous artists, writers and poets to share our own personal story. We just have to blog.

Fast forward a few hundred years from now, historians then, will have no problem reassembling our lives thanks to the testimonies and stories left by all of us on the blogosphere. So coming back to our original question, why do you blog?

I want to turn the question back to you dear fellow blogger? I look forward to hearing your perspective?

Here is a Ted video where Mena Trott “the founding mother of blogging revolution” explains about why she blogs.

https://www.ted.com/talks/mena_trott_tours_her_blog_world

Inspired by Daily Post

Ritual

Embed from Getty Images

Ritual

7 o’ clock, Good Morning!

Get ready for the crazy day ahead but first,

Coffee with extra sugar, “let’s start blogging”,

Dash out to work, “hello”, some warm, some curt.

12o’ clock, good afternoon,

Run to the gym for lunch, get much needed exercise

My imagination runs dry, I need monsoon,

By 2Pm I have had a review, my accomplishments trivialized

Its 6o’ clock, I am still at work

Emails to answer, Reports to churn,

Outside smog is thickening dusk,

Humdrum day gathers dust.

‘Tis 8’ o clock, aah my feet hurt

Switch on the tube to drown the day, scour the fridge for victuals

Submerge in couch, no more energy to exert,

Another day, year, life; same ole same: a Trivial Ritual.

Embed from Getty Images

Home

Home

It’s been twenty long years
since I last was here,
Today I return to warm embraces and tears,
And this humble abode that I so revere.

Draped across these four walls
my childhood joys and fears,
our innocent games, countless brawls,
those plays, the music bands; oh we were such racketeers!

Everything here reminds me of days passed
bedtime stories, midnight feasts, picnics and parties,
Hopes, dreams, drive, enthusiasm unsurpassed,
playful fights, feisty reprieves, teddies and barbies.

Twenty long years have I traveled & strayed, life’s such a masquerade,
Stranger have I been, to the zillion memories that still live inside this effusive dome,
But Providence and good sense in the end did prevail,
As I found my way back to unveil, the cobwebbed gates to what was once; my childhood home.

Daily Post: Home

Memories

Memories whether sad or happy, always cherish the past. They offer an invaluable landscapic view to our own life and teach us the meaning of our joys and suffering passed. Here is a poem celebrating these memories. Inspired by Daily Post.

Memories

Resplendent moments frozen in time,
happy, sweet, or sour, always fleeting; these memories so sublime,
Green poppy fields, endless waterfalls, ringing chimes,
yes you lived a great life, now you mull, these reveries so divine.

Caressing, cajoling, coddling your heart like a mother’s hand,
soft footed, bushels of musings creep into your heart, playing magic like a sorcerer’s wand,
allusive thoughts remind you of a marching procession in a king’s meadowland,
one follows the other in perfect harmony, yet unchecked, unhindered and unobstructed like grains of sand.

These tidal waves of thoughts, drench your psyche and soul,
life lived, moments savored, these memories now your keep and paramour,
Sowing the tears of your heart, or tearing it apart, teaching you a lesson? What purpose, what goal?
Memories offer a panoramic view to life, a celebration of past, a toast to your life; a profound Skoal.

Please note: © All original work on this blog including this poem (unless explicitly stated) is Copyrighted by UbeCute 2014.

A Specious Blossom

Who will understand abandonment better than these specious blossoms that thrust out from the hardness of mother earth, only to enjoy life for a day or two? It’s unfortunate that most of the passers-by will pass by, without ever stopping to glance at their fleeting beauty.

We all swoon over the beauty of the roses and the tulips, but here’s to celebrating the Specious!

Inspired by weekly photo challenge post

5 simple tips to writing great dialogue

While Fiction may imitate life, life rarely imitates Fiction. This may be the reason that while Fiction is close to reality, it is never “reality-like”. This difference between fact and fiction is most palpable in the dialogues exchanged between characters in Fiction, versus those in real life by real people. Here is a list of some interesting observations and classic dialogues, highlighting these differences.

(A Statutory Warning: Please read these dialogues at your own Risk, as exposure to them may cause sudden spikes in Intellect, reasoning, humor and wit.)

Picture Retrieved from: (http://www.picstopin.com/674/shrek-dragon-donkey-image-search-results)

1) It is never ok to make small talk

All Dialogues in fiction have to have a purpose, even if it is a seemingly senseless banter between two bums, as is the case in the play “Waiting for Godot” by Samuel Beckett. In real life; people talk, chatter, chit-chat, gab, prattle, blather, babble, blabber… endlessly without any specific purpose in mind. But in Fiction even idle talk has a purpose to serve; building character, plot, background or merely adding humor. In this example the constant babble by the Donkey in SHREK (2001), is not just amusing but also builds up the Donkey’s playful character in sharp contrast to the more goal-oriented Shrek.

DONKEY: Hi, Princess!

PRINCESS: It talks!

SHREK: Yeah, it’s getting him to shut up that’s the trick.

2) It’s ok not to waste time with curtsies.

Characters in fiction are always too busy to bother with curtsies. The heroes are busy being heroic and the anti-heroes are energetically being mean and crude. But they all come straight to the point without wasting precious little time with curtsies such as “hi”, “hello”, and “how are you?” Take for instance this conversation from CASABLANCA, written by Julius & Philip Epstein & H. Koch. In this scene, Ferrari (Sidney Greenstreet) is the owner of the rival Blue Parrot café in Casablanca and wants Rick’s (Humphrey Bogart) café.

FERRARI: (to RICK) I would like to buy your café.

RICK: It’s not for sale.

FERRARI: You haven’t heard my offer.

RICK: It’s not for sale at any price.

(FERRARI looks at SAM the piano player)

FERRARI: What do you want for Sam?

RICK: I don’t buy or sell human beings.

FERRARI: Too bad. That’s Casablanca’s leading commodity.

Notice that Ferrari does not waste time and jumps straight to his true ulterior motive, “I would like to buy your café”. How often are you likely to approach your favorite café owner with that line? And more importantly, how likely are you to leave in one-piece if you did?

Even with the scrawny dialogue above, the author exhibits all the elements of a well written dialogue; character and relationship building, denouement of plot and element of conflict. Fiction means Business. It’s kind of like the going-out sale signs saying, “Everything must go” only instead it is “Everything must add up …to the plot that is!

Notice the dialogue sneakily establishes not only the relationship between Ferrari and Rick but also classifies the time period it is set in. Clearly the story is set in a time, where slavery was a norm. This is evident by Ferrari’s second more offensive question, “What do you want for Sam?” From the dialogue above we get the sense that Ferrari is a capital scoundrel and a brute, without the writer ever having to state it.

Read the same conversation below with a slight but notable modification (I added some basic curtsies to emulate real life.)

Ferrari approached Rick with a cigarette in his mouth and said “Hey Rick. How are you doing?”

Rick responded casually, “I am fine. And you? How is business?”

FERRARI dropped the cigarette on the floor, stubbed it with his foot and added, “Its fine. But it will be better once I buy your café.”

RICK responded instantly, “Who told you, my café is for sale?”

Did I lose you by the first line? Notice that while the dialogue above may resonate reality more, it just is not exciting enough due to all the dialogue tags and mundane curtsies.

3) It’s not just ok, but even cool to be rude

In fiction it is ok for the actor to lack politeness or sentiment, as depicted by the “Tarantino-esque” or the “hard-boiled” dialogue style so famous in Hollywood. Caution if you are a real person in real life, this style may cause you to lose a lot of friends and gain some nasty enemies.

Bogart’s remark here is reminiscent of the hard-boiled dialogue style made famous by THE MALTESE FALCON written by Dashiell Hammett & John Huston:

BOGART: We didn’t exactly believe your story, Miss O’Shaughnessy. We believed your two hundred dollars.

In Fiction the tough characters are always spontaneous and say it “like it is”. In the TV series MASH, by Larry Gelbart etc., there were many instances of sharing bad news without cushioning the blow, as seen from this dialogue:

FRANK BURNS: Why does everyone take an instant dislike to me?

TRAPPER JOHN: It saves time, Frank.

In this example from Cheers, James Burrow packs the mirth with this quick repartee from Norm.

WOODY: Can I pour you a draft, Mr. Peterson?

NORM: A little early, isn’t it Woody?

WOODY: For a beer?

NORM: No, for stupid questions.

Yet again, I am not sure how many of us “tough” folks know our servers well enough to get away with saying something like that?

4) Its ok to preach as long as no expects it of you:

Fiction makes some of the profoundest observation about life in the form of “one-liners” and puts them in the mouth of characters least likely to make a statement so profound.

Nobody gives better advise on getting out of a jam, than the least likely character; a blue fish with serious memory issues: Dory.

Picture and quote from http://blogs.disney.com/oh-my-disney/2013/06/26/the-best-dory-quotes/

Dory gives her classic one-liner advice in FINDING NEMO (2003), “When life gets you down do you wanna know what you’ve gotta do? Just keep swimming”.

In Kung Fu Panda (2008), Po is contemplating whether he should quit Kung Fu and go back to his Dad’s business or not.

Po: Maybe I should just quit and go back to making noodles.

Oogway: Quit, don’t quit? Noodles, don’t noodles? You are too concerned about what was and what will be. There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the “present.”

Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks) in FORREST GUMP (1994) says of life, “Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” While I agree the words are attributed to Forrest’s mother but Forrest Gump gets to quote them!

(Picture Retrieved from: http://www.imdb.com/media/rm460625920/nm0751426?ref_=nm_ov_ph)

Mame (Rosalind Russel) in Auntie Mame (1958), who leads a flamboyant, extravagant life, makes the most poignant statement about poverty and life with, “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!”

In the lines below, it is not the quick witted Tintin that comes up with these forewarning words about failing, but the mostly drunk Captain Haddock.

(Picture from: http://www.impawards.com/2011/adventures_of_tintin_the_secret_of_the_unicorn_ver4.html)

Tintin: We failed.
Captain Haddock: Failed. There are plenty of others willing to call you a failure. A fool. A loser. A hopeless souse. Don’t you ever say it of yourself. You send out the wrong signal, that is what people pick up. Don’t you understand? You care about something, you fight for it. You hit a wall, you push through it. There’s something you need to know about failure, Tintin. You can never let it defeat you.

5) It’s ok to make long winded soliloquy under certain special circumstances:

In Fiction, it is ok for the character to make a long–winded soliloquy, as long as they have had an epiphany about the chief motive behind the plot, as is evident from this classic example from WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989) by Nora Ehpron:

HARRY: I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle in your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Shakespeare was particularly good at climactic speeches, as shown in this memorable one that ends MACBETH. MACBETH makes this speech just after hearing of Lady Macbeth’s death, where he realizes the futility of life and all his wrong actions.

MACBETH: Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more; it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

In conclusion, I will summarize that while Fiction is sympathetic to many a foibles such as being rude, omitting basic curtsies, preaching, it leaves no white space for meaningless small talk that does “not add up”! Let me end my list of classic dialogues by quoting one of Ben Kingsley in Schindler’s List (by Thomas Kineally & Steve Zaillian).

BEN KINGSLEY: “The list is life…”

Citations

“…Yeah, it’s getting him to shut up that’s the trick…” Retrieved from: http://www.hark.com/clips/qlbxjxczrm-its-getting-him-to-shut-up-thats-the-trick (accessed February 27. 2014)

“Casablanca quotes. Movie Quotes Database. Retrieved from: http://www.moviequotedb.com/movies/casablanca/ratings/page_3.html| (accessed February 27. 2014)

“We didn’t exactly believe your story…”. Retrieved From: http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/Maltese_Falcon.pdf |(accessed February 27. 2014)

“what is a good MASH quote/ChaCha.” Retrieved from: http://www.chacha.com/question/what-is-a-good-mash-quote (accessed February 27. 2014)

“Quotes and Wit.” Retrieved from: http://dreamblvr.com/quotes.htm| (accessed February 27. 2014)

Best movie quotes of 1998 – Movie mistakes goofs, bloopers… Retrieved from: ”http://www.moviemistakes.com/best1988/quotes” (accessed February 27. 2014)

The Best Dory quotes. Retrieved from: http://blogs.disney.com/oh-my-disney/2013/06/26/the-best-dory-quotes/| (accessed February 27. 2014)

“Quit, Don’t Quit…”. Retrieved from: http://www.hark.com/clips/jclyylrvvj-quit-dont-quit-noodles-dont-noodles|(accessed February 27. 2014)

The Adventures of Tintin (2011) – Quotes – IMDB- Retrieved from: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0983193/quotes| (accessed February 27. 2014)

“Quote #39” From When Harry met Sally…| Movie Quotes online.Retrieved from: ”http://www.moviequotesonline.net/quote-39-from-when-harry-met-sally| (accessed February 27. 2014)

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” Retrieved from: http://pettypace.org/| (accessed February 27. 2014)

Not working out…

Not working out!

Another day, another month, a new year; its all the same,
Washing away wasted years, nothing but daily humdrum to blame,
Empty promises, false hypothesis, umpteen losses,
I have seen it all. In war and love, nobody wins; what a shame!

Wedding rings, breakfast at Tiffany’s, ended with a sticky note,
No calls nor apologies, a human voice no matter how remote,
Just a sticky note; “Not working out” that’s all you wrote?
Shaking hands, teary eyes, painful lump in my throat.

Wasted time, lost possibilities; all washed away with dirt and slime,
Between these gnarled socks and jeans, washed away are my dreams,
Your beautiful face and your long tresses; memories that hurt like a crime,
And above it all, you ended with a note, no apologies no matter how sublime;

Just a sticky note,”Not working out”!

Inspired by Daily Prompt: Tainted Love

A Picture says a thousand words

Do you have a vice?

“He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.”

By Winston Churchill

(http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/vice)

Truth is we all have vices. Can you name one person who has no vice, no matter how big or small?

We all know of human vices such as: drinking, smoking, gambling, overeating, hurting oneself or others etc. But overlook vices that are never physically expressed but only experienced within the constraints of one’s mind. Feelings of anger, hatred, jealousy, self pity, neglect can be equally malignant as any of the vices listed above. Over a period of time such negative emotions can and often do become toxic. They not only weaken our own moral character but also break down our physical and mental well being.

Yet as humans we have all experienced these negative emotions and or behaviors from time to time. The key is to first realize and accept our vice or weakness and then resolve to improve it. I would not be concerned if a person told me they had a vice. I would however be concerned if a person told me he had no vice. According to me such a person is either an angel or completely lacks an insight into his own soul. Such a person is probably so self-righteous that he has lost the ability to see any fault in himself.

If you know you have made a mistake, you can resolve to fix it, but if you truly believe you never ever made a mistake you have nothing to resolve.

You then continue existing in the throes of your vice, repeating the same mistakes over and over again, eventually hurting yourself and those around you. Unfortunately vices only give momentary pleasure, but in the longer run lead to feelings of guilt, lack of control, self pity, self loathing and so forth.

The idea is not to be devoid of all vices completely. Some smaller vices such as an infrequent indulgence in chocolate once in a while may be perfectly acceptable for example. The idea is to simply keep our vices controlled. For instance, if you smoke a packet of cigarette a day, then reduce it to half. If you smoke half a packet then endeavor to reduce it to two or three cigarettes, eventually eliminating the dependency.

If you are frequently caught in the web of negative emotions, then persevere to at least become acutely aware of it. Controlling negative emotions takes time and practice but becoming aware of them is the first step to change.

According to Joel Osteen,

“When the negative thoughts come – and they will; they come to all of us – it’s not enough to just not dwell on it… You’ve got to replace it with a positive thought.”

(quoted from http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/joelosteen)

Negative energies in the long run lead to harmful negative behaviors which in turn cause us to harm ourselves and our loved ones. There is no easy way out. But realization of one’s faults, weaknesses, vices is the beginning to the end.

Having a vice is human, having the ability to forgive somebody’s vice is divine, but the inability to accept ones vice or overlook it completely is simply moronic.

Inspired by Daily Post:

Never Gonna Give You Up

Legacy

Daily Prompt: Don’t you forget about me!

Imagine yourself at the end of your life. What sort of legacy will you leave? Describe the lasting effect you want to have on the world, after you’re gone.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us LEGACY.

——

Instead of falling in love, let me rise

Instead of craving riches, let me share mine,

If I lose my way and stray, take me back to whence I started,

For to trace back one’s way, is not time lost, as long as it is a lesson learned in time.

If I fall far and deep, then let me have the courage to believe,

Climbing back up may be hard, but it’s a journey worthwhile,

Every fall that hurts, hurts more only because you survive,

May I never leave sight of those and that which is dear,

May I have the fortitude for truth and reality to endure,

And when a countless stars are breaking in the summer skies,

Let me bask in their divine glory, coy but demure.

Above all I pray to be carefree and happy;

To give more than I receive, to love more than be loved,

So when my time is up, let upon my tombstone be writ,

Here lies the girl who once truly lived.

Of Art and Wine

Since times immemorial, humans have treasured the joys of Art and Wine. Here is a poem commemorating this sublime relationship between Art and Wine:

——————

Of Art & Wine

A swirl, a sniff, a sip. Lipstick stains on the wine glass,

Knees weakening, cheeks reddening, blood stained lips of the young lass,

Crimson sparkles exploding in the carafe, pouring into my glass; an exhilarating dance,

Greek gods, wine lords, Dionysus and Bacchus, like us, trapped in this hypnotic trance.

Sipping flirtatious innuendos, drowning inebriated crescendos,

Golden sun trapped inside this wine glass where luminescence and splendor conspire,

Literature and wine make great bed side companions one sets the other on fire,

Drunken stupor? Far from it, its creative moksha; brilliant and grandiose.

Classical or contemporary; art is art,

Writ by hands of time, evoking emotions cut out of bleeding heart,

Art is the aphrodisiac of life; resplendent, sacred and sublime,

Just as this dazzling drink of the Gods enthralls; the soul, imagination and mind.

Hearst Castle

Hearst Castle

Hearst Castle

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/14/photo-challenge-treasure/

Karmic wine glass

Shattered glass and blood was splattered all over the kitchen floor. A body was lying face down with a knife still stuck in the back, dripping a thick pool of red.

Zoey was shaking convulsively, as she tried supporting herself against the wall. Rivulets of sweat mixed with tears and streamed down her cheeks as she let herself drop to the floor in a heave.

Could she really have done it? True, she had imagined it for years. She had wanted it, dreamed it and rehearsed it in her head over and over. But could she have actually gone through with it tonight? “Oh My God, Oh My God, what have I done?” she said looking at her hands. She had taken the kitchen knife and stabbed him repeatedly at the back until his legs could not hold the weight of his body. He thumped down on his knees first, and then fell on his face, bloodying the white kitchen floor.

Her heart beat so loud it would burst out of her chest, her head hurt and she could barely see. He had mixed something in her drink. Yes, he had to have. Surely he had dropped something in the wine before he handed it to her. She recoiled as she remembered his hand touching hers as he passed her the wine glass. How she hated him.

Now he was lying face down, dead and harmless. She had finally put the years of abuse behind her. It was going to be ok. He was far away from her now and could never hurt her again.

But she had to find her keys, she had to run, follow through with her plans. She remembered the plan clearly in her head, even though it pounded uncontrollably. Why could she not pull herself up? Someone or something was pulling her down. Her legs had become gummy, and her stomach seethed with pain. She instinctively put her hand on her stomach, to press the pain away. Her body felt sticky. In an instant she put her hands to her eyes, and looked at them disbelievingly, they were blood red.

Zoey had stabbed Charles several times in the back, but not before he had stabbed her in the gut with the broken wine glass.

“Cut” Shouted the Director. “Excellent shot. Pack Up”.

Inspired by Daily Post : Flash Fiction

The very Inspiring Blogger Award

I was very pleasently surprised to be nominated for the “Very Inpiring Blogger” Award from an even more inspiring blog: “Words We Women Write“. Thank you! Please check out their many interesting articles and thought provoking photographs here: site

The rules of this award are:

1. Thank the person who nominated you and add a link to their blog.

2. Display the award on your post.

3. List the award rules so your nominees know what to do.

4. State 7 things about yourself.

5. Nominate 15 other bloggers for the award.

6. Contact your nominees to let them know you have nominated them. Provide a link to your post.

7. Proudly display the award logo (or buttons) on your blog, whether on your side bar, ABOUT page, or a special page for awards.

–—————————–

7 things about me:

1) I believe most words are animate life-like beings that have a face and a tongue. Consider words such as epiphany, torrential, drizzle, cacophony, saucy, putrid, and colorful. The mere mention of these words brings to mind a vision of their meaning. It’s like they magically conjure up and speak their meaning out.

2) I have too many hobbies and have ignored them for too long. All that is going to change this year.

3) I enjoy reading and learning and truly mourn the closing of so many wonderful bookstores around me. I have nothing against digital eBooks but nothing compares to the joy of being able to curl up to a book with a nice cup of tea.

4) I am a novice writer, and am hoping to learn from other more serious bloggers. So please share your constructive criticism.

5) I love all things beautiful; photography, works of literature, art and food!

6) While I have always loved my parents, the older I have gotten, the more I have grown to appreciate them. Thanks Mom and Dad for being so perfectly you!

7) I believe in conspiracy theories and stories of all kinds. If you have a good story to tell, you have an audience in me for life.

Cheers!

———————

These are the Bloggers I admire, and am delighted to nominate:

1) Greg Urbano

2) Processing the life

3) ABozdar

4) Evelyn Holingue

5) Oh Danny Boy

6) Twenty Thirteen

7) Shannon A. Thompson

8) Feet From Shore

9) Why Evolution is True

10) Chronicles of an Anglo-Swiss

11) Florian Deutsch Fotografie

12) Without an H

13) Adventures in Home Improvements

14) ARCH diary

15) All thoughts work

11 rules to live by for guaranteed success

Success is defined as the accomplishment of an aim or goal. Whatever our aims are, completion of these gives us a sense of fulfillment, accomplishment and happiness. We all know success is neither easy nor guaranteed, yet we are surprised when our best efforts are not rewarded with the level of success we dreamed of.

Is there a formula to guarantee success?

As it happens, for anything to flourish we must create an environment for it. For instance if we wish to grow a plant, we need to provide it a combination of sun, air, water and soil, or else the plant will perish.

Looking at it from another context, if we were to say bake a cake, we must first collect and mix all the ‘right’ ingredients (flour, milk, eggs, baking powder, sugar, essence) in the ‘right’ proportions. We then have to bake this concoction at a certain temperature for a certain amount of time.

If anyone of you (like myself) has persevered to bake the perfect cake but fallen short of expectations, then take a look at the list of ingredients I have put forth below. If you missed even a single one of them, then you found your missing Ingredient!

Ingredient Number One: Inspiration/Dreams/Motivation

For any change to happen the level of our effort has to be strong. But what drives effort? As it seems the stronger our dreams the stronger are our efforts. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams”.

Context: Baking a cake will take some effort. It is important to be clear on the motivation behind this effort, or why do it? Your motivation may be as simple as you wanting to eat a cake. But why chose to bake one, why not just buy one at the grocery store, which will definitely be easier and faster? Motivation is what will drive your efforts, without which your project may fail half way; losing steam.

Ingredient Number two: Hard Work

This is no secret. Success takes a lot of effort, even for those who are naturally endowed. Beethoven’s 9^th symphony took him many years in the making. Leonardo Da Vinci spent four years to create his masterpiece: Mona Lisa. It took Shah Jahan ten years to build the Taj Mahal. Einstein once said, “Genius is 1% talent, and 99% hard work”.

Efforts must be consistent, persistent, proactive, and energetic to be successful. What’s more one may need to try and try again until one succeeds. Urban legend has it,that it took Thomas Edison a thousand unsuccessful attempts before he successfully created the light bulb.

Context: Baking a cake is no easy effort. If you are worried about the hard work, then go buy a cake. Baking will require a lot of work from assembling the ingredients, mixing them together, baking and then cleaning up the mess, before you are able to even enjoy the first bite. The effort will be well worth it, but be fully prepared to make it.

Ingredient Number three: Focus

The truth is hard work without focus will never yield desired results. Alexander Graham Bell said, “Concentrate all your thoughts upon the work at hand. The sun’s rays do not burn until brought to a focus.”

Context: Baking is all about the right proportions and timing. If while baking a cake, you get distracted and add too much of milk or too little eggs, your cake will not come out light and fluffy. Single minded focus on the work at hand, yields definite success.

Ingredient Number four: Tools & Techniques

Work Smart not just hard. Utilizing Tools and techniques not only includes utilizing the “right” ones, but also includes improving the ones you have and improvising what you don’t.

Context: You may wish to use an egg beater for instance to whip up the egg or mix the ingredients together nicely, thus saving yourself time while making sure the batter is of a perfect consistency.

Ingredient Number five : Goals

For any task to be successful, you must have SMART goals. This means your goals should be Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant and Time Bound. Breaking goals into smaller bite size pieces is also helpful.

Context: You must know for instance what kind of a cake you want: chocolate, vanilla or carrot cake? This would drive the ingredients that you assemble as well as the method you use to bake it. You may also want to break your ultimate goal into smaller achievable goals such as making the base, making the frosting, decorating etc.

Ingredient Number six: Support group

A strong, equally determined support group can make all the difference between failure and success. Remember you don’t want false adulation, you want constructive criticism.

Context: Baking a cake is fun if you can bake with a friend. Or if you can share notes and tips with your friends. This will help both of you improve your baking skills in the long run. Agreed?

Ingredient Number seven: Effectiveness

I feel this is a very important ingredient to success. While many people work hard and persevere, few are effective. The secret to being effective is to constantly monitor results, critically assess ones failures and successes, learn from mistakes, and to continually revise and update one’s plan. “What has worked well in the past”? “What can I do better in the future”?

Context: When you bake a cake, you may want to taste the batter to make sure it is not too bland or too sweet, or frequently check the cake is not burning.

Ingredient Number eight: Pray/Believe

While luck favors those who work hard, it also helps those who believe. Prayers come a long way in helping us keep our faith during difficult times. I believe Rick Warren (spiritual author) says it best when he says, “The more you pray, the less you’ll panic. The more you worship, the less you worry. You’ll feel more patient and less pressured.”

Context: Before you even bake a cake, you must believe in yourself. You may never have baked a cake before, but to try it for the first time, you must have faith in your own success.

Ingredient Number nine: Set Milestone

Setting Milestones helps one check one’s progress. Create frequent check points and set deadlines. These keep us on track.

Context: You may want to create Milestones such as, buying ingredients, creating the batter, making the icing and so forth. It helps breaking a large task into manageable chunks while also making sure we are not forgetting something, or running out of time.

Ingredient Number ten: Creativity

Creative people will find new and innovative ways to doing the same things. Creativity includes thinking outside the box and constantly reinventing oneself and one’s art.

Context: This is what will make your cake stand out. Go ahead whip out a nice design with colored icing or try baking a multi-layered cake.

Ingredient Number eleven: Just Chill!

If you have done everything that you needed to do, and you have done it to the best of your ability, then just sit back and relax. Leave the rest to rest. Obsessing over something or the past only takes away from the joy of achieving it.

Also learn to celebrate smaller successes while continuing to endeavor for the big enchilada!

Oprah Winfrey has famously said, “The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate!”

(http://www.brainyquote.com).

Context: You put in all the effort to bake a cake. The cake is now ready. It’s now time to sit back and enjoy the labors of love. Go ahead take that first bite, dig into the sweetness of your cake. Feel the chocolate melt into your mouth (assuming it is a chocolate cake). This is the reward of your hard work, be proud of it. And chill!

Inspired by Daily Post: Ingredients

Secret Ingredient

Being a vegetarian, I am all about sauces, curries and chutneys. I think they can “up” the taste of any salad, and add a dash of color and flavor to any meal.

Here is a recipe I used for the salad dressing you see on my shredded cucumber and beet salad above:

1 small garlic clove

3 tbsp lemon juice

1 small carrot

1 small yellow pepper

1/2 cup of sesame seeds

Salt and pepper to taste

Dash of Love

Daily Prompt: Ingredients

Love Thy Neighbor

And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.”

Luke 10:27

Sometimes you don’t realize how much time has passed, until you turn back and look at the serpentine tunnel of time behind you. I cannot believe twenty long years have passed since I met her last. It might well have been yesterday.

She was well into her seventies when I first met her. I remember her vividly, since I never met a more sophisticated or classier woman. Something about her memory reminds me of a beautiful Hindu temple, with large brass bells ringing outside, as they often do in temples.

I had just finished my Board exams and was off for the summer. We had recently moved into a new neighborhood. “Nani-Maa” (grandma in Hindi) as we would grow to call her was our next door neighbor. When I first met her, she was wearing a beautiful white sari (a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body) with a dark temple border neatly draped and pinned around her petite figure. Her hair pulled back into a high bun so tightly that not a tendril of hair would ever fall out of place. Her skin was thin and translucent and her face reflected the wisdom that comes only with age.

She talked very softly, so you had to listen intently, and I instinctively wondered what stories this lovely creature had to share of her life. As it would turn out she had many.

Nani-Maa was the oldest in a family of four children and came from a wealthy family of Nawabs. The year was 1947 and Nani-Maa was a young woman of 27 already a mother of three kids, when India was caught in a wave of celebration and turmoil. While the country celebrated its Independence on one side, riots were breaking out along the western and eastern borders causing massive population exchanges and sectarian clashes that the young administration of the countries could not support. Nani-Maa and her family, like millions of others in the day, found themselves caught in this political tornado. The riots that broke out had forced them to leave their palatial quarters in Lahore (Pakistan) and leave for India overnight. Much of what their fathers and forefathers had built was lost overnight. And yet she had many heart wrenching tales to share about the victory of love and humanity in the midst of these darkest of hours.

Nani-maa and her husband were young doctors and soon their practice flourished in India. They became well known and came to lead a comfortable if not a princely life raising their beautiful kids the best way that parents can; with love and fortitude.

Disaster struck again, when Nani-Ma’s husband died leaving her a single mother with three children to raise. The kids were now well into their teens. She practiced medicine for another 20 years before she renounced Allopathy completely in favor of Homeopathy.

She believed that while modern medicine had the same prescription for all people based on their ailment, homeopathy offered a much more tailored approach; suited to the patient not only by the ailment but by the patient’s age, gender, weight and other biological factors.

I still remember how many people visited her at all hours of the day to get Homeopathic treatment. She would sit and talk patiently with all, offering free consultation and drugs. I would often warn her against offering people free medicine as the huge influx of patients was causing a toll on her own fragile health.

2 Years later, I left for my studies to the US. I would call my parents on a regular basis and frequently enquire about “Nani – Maa”. One day I got a call early in the morning. Nani-Maa had passed away peacefully in her sleep. She had left behind a wealth of family consisting of her children and many of theirs.

It is very unfortunate that I never could meet Nani-Maa again. I console myself with the belief that being sad for the passing of awakened souls diminishes their greatness. I remember her till this day as a classic beauty who served more that her fair share as a mother, wife, doctor, philanthropist and a great neighbor that I only wish I could ever measure up to.

Inspired by Daily Prompt: Good Fences

A Peace Walk

Traveling in beauty

World’s Best Teleportation Device

Plane travel is overrated. In today’s world where time is the only exhaustible, non-renewable resource, plane travel offers an archaic sub-standard mode of transportation.

For one thing, you are subjected to a long and painful journey sitting in a cramped up space, eating unwholesome food and breathing the same recycled air for hours on a stretch. Not to mention, the absolute drudgery one has to endure before you even embark the plane; beating crowds at the airport, standing at the check-in line, going through a tooth cavity security check. I prefer getting my teeth drilled over traveling in a plane. It really takes something away from the joy of your vacation, won’t you agree?

Given magical Engineering skills, I would invest my time in building a teleportation device that allows one to teleport anywhere in the world within a matter seconds.

J.K. Rowling offers a second-rate “apparition” and “disapparation” method in the Harry Potter book series, allowing wizards to appear and disappear as needed. But why should wizards have all the fun? Yes I know, she clearly favors the Wizards.

Douglas Adam’s solution to teleportation in “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” may be a bit less partial, but it is below average as well. The idea of having to rip one’s atoms in one place, only to put them back together somewhere else, does not excite me.

Christopher Priest in his Novel, “The Prestige”, is getting closer to my idea, with the teleportation machine Tesla builds. But it is too darn dramatic for my style.

Remember that Aladdin’s lamp that allowed Aladdin to transport himself from China to Morocco and back, with the entire Royal Palace? Now that’s what I am talking about! Traveling in style!

My solution in comparison would be cutting edge without requiring you to splinch, deatomize or suck your breath inside a weird teleportation machine. You program this widget identifying the exact location of your choice (like you would on a GPS) and it takes you there, complete with your family and your home, if you so choose. Eureka.

Clearly, the modern day airlines will be out of business as soon as my device is out. But it will allow millions of people around the world to be able to reunite with their loved ones within a fraction of seconds. Giving millions of busy professionals a chance to rekindle their love life. Imagine if you could travel from LA to Australia within a fraction of a second, spend a dreamy weekend with your partner and be back in time to go to work on Monday. Would you not want to do it?

No more jet lag, no more cramped seats or eating bad plane food. Come to think of it, who would need cars? Just teleport yourself to work and back. This device would resolve modern day issues such as lack of time, bad traffic and pollution by the click of a button.

Maybe the next sequel would include a teleportation device that can teleport you to a different space in time, or a different galaxy? Meanwhile don’t forget to sign up in the comments section below, for a free ride. Remember it’s a limited time offer.

Happy Teleporting!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/07/daily-prompt-machines/

An egocentric view of Art and Life

U Be Cute is barely a month old, and I am already fully “sucked-in” as a blogger. I confess that means visiting my blog 25 times a day just to check if I got a new ‘like’ and or a ‘comment’. Which is sad, because I barely get about 5 ‘likes’ a day (if I am lucky), which is only a 20% rate of return on my obsessive labors. Yet, something about the little “call-out” button turning orange, sets my heart fluttering (especially since it happens so rarely). This is a feeling only other debutante bloggers such as myself will appreciate.

If you are one of those bloggers who gets 50 or more ‘likes’ on one Post alone, then you are way beyond fully appreciating that first lonely “like” that can completely transform your day. I feel like Meg Ryan (Aka ‘shopgirl’) in “You’ve Got Mail” who gets elated every time she sees an email from Tom Hanks (“NY151”). For those of you born in or after 1990, ignore that analogy, this movie is prehistoric for you.

My new obsession with getting “likes”, stems from the fact that all through my growing years; I was never hugely popular. And by “hugely popular” I really mean “remotely popular”. I still only have a few close friends, with emphasis being on “few”, who somehow have the heart to stay friends, despite my many incoherent egocentric ramblings about how “I perceive the world” or “What I think”.

Egocentric ramblings…Does that make me an egocentric? Sure.

The truth is all human beings are egocentric to some degree. Yes even YOU.

Despite the negative connotations around the word, “egocentrism” is not entirely an undesirable trait. Egocentrism allows us the privilege to perceive the world as we do, and to believe our perception is correct. In that respect all artists are essentially egocentric. Art in its simplest form is nothing if not an expression of how one perceives the world.

Art in all its forms; painting, sculpture, photography, prose, poetry is an exhibition of “life” not “as it is” but “as perceived” by the artist. The mere process of capturing life in some ways colors it.

For example, ask a bunch of students to photograph an object say: a fruit basket. It is very likely that every student will present the artwork differently, possibly adding different angles, colors, effects, lighting and so forth, so much so that in the end, what you see is not the fruit basket but the author’s perception of the fruit basket. This difference is only more enhanced if the students are to hand draw the objects.

Given below are some pictures I took of the same object, but changed the angle, focus, exposure slightly. The result is that the same inanimate object can appear so different, giving the viewer an altered experience of the object. May it be noted, that I am deliberately using photographs not hand drawn paintings, since photography is said to capture reality more closely than paintings. The central premise of this experiment is to prove that even a slight change of angle, focus by even a debutante photographer (myself) can make a big difference to how the same object is presented.

Top View of Fruit Basket

Fruit Basket in black & white

Focus on oranges

Cave in focus

Distant view of Cave

Close up view of the falls with the house in background

Distant view of the falls with the red flowers

Is art necessarily beautiful or perfect? While a lot of people believe that art is a celebration of beauty, I disagree. Art is an imitation of life and life is neither beautiful nor perfect, it just is. What makes Art so unique is that it is innately flawed. Art is flawed because it imitates life which is full of flaws and also because the eyes that perceive it retain their own version of reality (which to some degree is less than reality).

The reason why Art is unique, interesting and timeless is not because it is a perfect imitation of life but because it is an egocentric perception of life by the author and in that it is both unique and flawed.

For how else how can commonplace topics such as love, jealousy, marriage, fear, pain still be the centrifugal themes of literature, despite having been talked about for centuries? The reason being, that every single author took the same theme but presented it in a different color, angle, context and light thus offering it unique and still relevant.

Writing is less about how it makes “you” the reader feel and more about how it makes “me” the writer feel. Just as creating Art is a personal experience, so also is enjoying Art a very personal experience. Which is why, different people analyse the same piece of literature differently. It does not matter what the true intent of the writer was. As long as Art causes one to think and question why things are the way they are, and what if they were different?

To me, there isn’t a single photograph or piece of work that is not artistic. If it was created by a human then the element of “perception” and “flaw” should automatically make it artistic to some degree.

What then makes certain pieces of artwork so different from the rest? Masterpieces such as Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment are definitely beautiful and profound in any language. I read the English version of the book (originally written in Russian) and cried at every single page, and still wondered how much was lost in the translation alone. Classic works of Fiction such as Emily Bronte’s, “Wuthering Heights” is as romantic today as it was when first published in 1847. Or the unforgettable childhood that Maggie and Tom Tulliver share in “Mill in the Floss” by George Eliot is still the best testament to childhood and sibling love and rivalry today, as it was in 1860. These are just a few of the many examples to prove that while times will change, human emotions such as fear, pain, love and jealousy are and will always remain relevant as will the writer’s perceptions.

To me a well written piece of prose or poetry is like a necklace; pearl like words strung together by the central theme joined by a clasp where the beginning meets the end. Although a good piece of prose or poetry is meant to provoke deep emotions, questions, or tug at the core of one’s being, above all it is meant to simply allow the egocentric writer a channel to express. As for me just the sheer joy of seeing the little “call-out” button turn orange is incentive enough to burn the midnight oil.

Happy One month Birthday, U be Cute!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/07/photo-challenge-perspective/

Photo Album

Waterfall – Kauai

Alcatraz

Dried Leaves

Just Float

Heavy is the rock that sinks to the bottom of the sea,

Empty is the heart that will never trust, nor believe,

Doomed is the soul that will never whistle a tune or dance in glee.

Dark is the cave where the rays of sun will never shine,

Sad is the nightingale that for her lover shall always pine.

It’s never easy to always hang on by the edge,

To have a thousand dreams and not one fulfilled,

To see the scrapbook of one’s life sitting empty by the ledge,

The person who lives the fullest, does not live in a cement moat,

For walking the safe path offers no reason to gloat,

I rather be the boy who threw off his galoshes and jumped in the sea,

He may not know have known how to swim, but he sure as hell did float.

Inspired by Weekly writing challenge

Group Think

“Don’t you feel like you live in a fish bowl sometimes”? said Sabeena skimming over the news on her laptop. The phone was on speaker mode.

“What do you mean?” responded Andy with the phone stuck between his shoulder and ear, while cooking gits over the stove.

“Thanks to social analytics and what have you, your whole personal data can be pulled from all over the web and used to scrape out detailed information about you. Companies and the Government can & do use this information all the time” explained Sabeena.

“Well sure maybe they have some basic information about us, but nothing of consequence” said Andy munching his cereal.

“Nothing of consequence? They know what you eat, what you drink, what you like to wear, movies you watch, what you read, your age, gender, the color of your hair! They have enough information to map out a complete personality Andy, without once needing to see you. They can even record your personal conversations over the phone or any emails over the web. Like this one for instance. They can track you anywhere using your phone”

“C’mon Sabeena, aren’t you being a bit paranoid? What can companies do with it, except maybe send you more promotional emails for the handbags you are obsessed with?” argued Andy. “And certainly the Government will never misuse such information. It is really meant to protect us.”

“I agree. It is meant to protect us. Protect us today. And sure, this regime or the one after will not misuse it” agreed Sabeena. “But who is to say what will happen decades from now? This technology will only grow. They could start mining your thought patters. Who is to say a more autocratic regime could not come to power and completely misuse it? Or what if it gets into the hands of the very people it is meant to save us from; terrorists”.

“So fine, information is power, and power may be misused. But what of it? We have the right to overthrow an autocratic regime or thwart any terrorist group” said Andy stirring the pot.

“Aah right. Yes you have the right but will you be able to execute it? Before you can even get to move the masses to organize a social uprising, they would know who you are and what you are upto. You would stand no chance. There are so many means at the hands of a corrupt regime to quieten a person or even a group of people. Think only of what happened in Nazi Germany Andy” she sighed.

Outside a truck screeched a sharp halt. Someone honked and yelled. Andy pulled the glass window shut.

“Fine you win. But why worry over something you can’t do anything about? Anyhoo…do you know of any good movies playing?” asked Andy changing gears.

“No I don’t” answered Sabeena. “Google it”.

Inspired by Daily post: Groupthink

Value of the World

Question: Where the world is an object and every object has a value, is there an object more valuable than the world?

Answer: Peace of Mind

Weekly Photo Challenge: Object

Daily Prompt: BFFs

Photographers, artists, poets: show us FRIENDS.

———-

About 3 years ago a tiny, little person joined my family. Unfortunately, we started off on a wrong foot, or shall we say four wrong feet? To start with, he had a bad attitude. He came into my home behaving like he owned it! He was running about my house, knocking things down, chewing furniture and worst of all leaving behind tiny, little brown packages that stink! You get the drift?

What’s more, our personalities could not be more mismatched. I am cautious, responsible and down to earth (yes, some call that insipid, but I think “I have my bright moments”). He on the other hand is; wild, crazy, reckless and completely insolent and one strongly suspects devious? Yes devious, why else would he chew off my favorite Jeans, or drop his stinky packages and then cleverly conceal them with pillows, or attack the living daylights out of my poor sandals? Note: The sandals are since in rehabilitation, while the Jeans never made it! May their soul rest in peace!

Buddy? Naaaaw this little guy is a pest and a mooch. His insolence only exaggerated by his indolence, and were it not for the fact that he is absolutely adorable, he would have been completely intolerable.

Yet slowly but surely things changed between us. Not sure if it was his soft furry coat, wagging tail, or big saucer eyes, but before I knew it, Ziggy had sneaked his way into my heart. He became my shadow; following me everywhere (psst Ziggy has no concept of “personal space” or “too much”). I mean he is practically a nose length away from me, at all time (and not by my choice).

I will say though, Ziggy has trained me to be a better person more than I may have trained him to be a better dog. For instance he taught me the concept of sacrifice. Since he has come into my life I have sacrificed both tranquility and privacy. While at home, he barks incessantly. While outside, he attracts way too much attention. For instance, when Ziggy pulls me out for one of our walks, I notice random cars slowing down as they drive past (ladies literally hanging out of their cars swooning over him), strangers stopping by to pet him… Pre-Ziggy era I could have dropped dead without a kind soul bothering to pass a glance. But at least I had my privacy! Now I can barely walk a 100 feet without getting ambushed by one his fans. I now understand how the entourage of a celebrity feels. Attention whore!

Ziggy has also taught me to be patient. I patiently wait for him to sniff half a football field before he finds himself the perfect little spot to do his business. Once finished, he gallantly chooses to stride off, while I am left, patiently picking his droppings.

Ziggy has also taught me to more selfless. This little guy has mastered many tricks. He will “sit down”, “roll over”, “heel”, “beg” all for a treat. Yet the one trick he shall not learn, is to “fetch”. No Sir, he shall not fetch. I so envy other humans who will throw a stick in the air, for their obedient dogs to fetch while they smugly watch. My dog however shall not let me have this satisfaction. My dog will fly in the air fetch the stick, get his treat, but will not let go off of the stick. You see he can eat my food, live for free in my house but he will not share a lousy stick with me. Indeed he has taught me a thing or two about selfless love, it’s called “I have no choice, my dog won’t fetch the goddam stick!”

Ziggy may not be a perfect dog much as I am not a perfect human, but what would I do without the constant pitter patter of his feet on my cement floors, or his unconcealed excitement to see me after work, his constant curiosity and his many little mischief’s? Truth is my world is a much brighter place because of this little fur ball I call Ziggy.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/13/prompt-something-so-strong/

Daily Prompt: Obstacle Course

The world is full and free. It abounds with oceans and seas, limitless skies, and a rich bounty of natural resources. Yet we divvy it up like slices of a pie and create fences and put up “Do Not Enter” signs. But perhaps the most insurmountable obstacles are the ones we create in our mind. They limit our perspective like the filters on a camera; they color our vision and set boundaries on our limitless possibilities.

Photo Gallery

Kauai

Sunset

Huntington Library

Photo Gallery

Weekly Photo Challenge: Juxtaposition

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/24/photo-challenge-juxtaposition/

This is my favorite picture. I am infatuated with the setting sun. Note to self: “Be like the sun that never loses its glory even after it’s gone”. The brilliant colors of the sky and the dark clouds with the backdrop of the black palms have painted a sight that would put Michelangelo to shame.

Here, the different shades of green are juxtaposed beautifully against each other. I love this blue river snaking through the green valley cutting the vast expanse of foliage on both sides.

Nature has painted a perfect contrast of the calm blue waters, against the large expanse of brown mountains covered in a green carpet. The mountain is studded with cliffs that look like fingers pointing at the sky. A shimmering strip of white sand cuts the mountains on the left and water on the right.

If only I were a dolphin, I would swim in this haven of peace for ever.

Daily Prompt: BYOB(ookworm)

Write the blurb for the book jacket of the book you’d write, if only you had the time and inclination.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOOKS.

——————–

Mayuri is a small town girl who travels a long and arduous road making huge sacrifices along the way, in order to achieve her dreams. It is not until her dreams have been fulfilled that she realizes all she won is a life of smoke and mirrors. Too late does she realize that what she has been looking for all along is exactly what she willingly let go long ago…

A gripping tale about life and the choices it forces us to make. This is a novel that will make you laugh and cry and above all keep you spellbound until the end. This debut novel by UbeCute will dazzle and delight all that are willing to open their mind to things that are “out of sight”.

The Faces of beauty

The Faces of beauty

What words in literature inspire greater visions of beauty than Christopher Marlowe’s description of Helen of Troy, “the face that launched a thousand ships”? These words embrace a concept of beauty that is both irrefutably desirable yet undeniably destructive. History abounds with the stories of beautiful women many of whom have been cautiously portrayed as dubious and guileful.

Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Nefertiti and Aphrodite (to name a few) all occupy a controversial if nebulous place in history. To this date legends of their beauty abound and enthrall human mind. If these women represent the concept of ancient beauty what does the archetypal face of beauty look like?

The most telling archeological evidence of ancient beauty would have to be the bust of Nefertiti the wife of Egyptian Pharaoh Akhenaten. Nefertiti is depicted as a woman with a long face, chiseled features and most notably; a swan like long neck. The subtle wrinkles under her eyes may be indicative of her vision and maturity. So famous was Nefertiti during the reign of her husband Akhenaten that she appears twice as much as the Pharaoh himself in works of art. In fact her status over the years of Akhenaten’s rule becomes parallel to that of the king himself.

In sharp contrast to the depiction of Nefertiti is that of Cleopatra (who by the way was a Macedonian Greek not Egyptian). Although she is depicted in literature as woman of unsurpassable beauty, images of Cleopatra in ancient coins present a different picture altogether. Some coins depict her as a woman of average beauty while others show her with a hooked nose and almost man like features all complete with an Adam’s apple.

How then does she attract two of the greatest men, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony? Although the depiction of Cleopatra in coins may have been politically inspired to present the picture of a powerful queen, Plutarch the Greek historian credits Cleopatra’s secret to be her vivacious personality and wit rather than physical beauty. Cleopatra is one of the most celebrated figures of history yet so much of her story is subject to speculation; from her seduction of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony to her death.

In complete departure from Cleopatra and Nefertiti are the legendary characters; Helen of Troy and Aphrodite the Greek goddess of beauty. While the former two are flesh and blood women of power and ambition the latter two are a figment of human imagination and one wonders; if an active male one at that?

Helen of Troy was said to have been the most beautiful woman in the world, whose adulterous affair with Paris, caused the 10 year long Trojan War. According to some accounts she willingly leaves with Paris for Troy leaving behind her faithful husband, daughter and parents. Sadly, Homer talks little of her and merely describes her as the “white armed, long robed and richly tressed” woman. She is cloaked in a shroud of mystery and never really vindicated as she never repents or repays for her sin of causing a war and countless deaths. She survives the wrath of Menelaus her estranged husband solely on account of her beauty and guile. I wonder if her character is a realistic portrayal of a woman or deliberately left dubious and incredible?

Aphrodite the Goddess of love also renowned for her long, golden hair and voluptuous body, plays the unyielding role of a seductress in the Greek mythology having many affairs outside her marriage. She uses her godly powers to cause the love affair between Helen and Paris. Aphrodite is depicted as the archetype of beauty, love and fertility and above all a temptress.

One thing that stands out in common between these women beside their beauty and wit is that somehow time and history has favored their character to be sewn in the very fabric of mystery and intrigue. These are the beautiful yet imperfect faces of women that above all shall not be ignored.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nefertiti

http://flavias.blogspot.com/2011/09/ugly-cleopatra.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_of_Troy

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphrodite

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/22/daily-prompt-mirrored/

A Birthday to Remember

Week’s Challenge: Day Five

A Birthday to remember

My world is a happier place at lunch as I peer at it through the golden luminescence of my wine. A swirl, a sniff and a gulp. I absent-mindedly tune in and out of the snippets of conversation buzzing around me, as if changing frequencies on a radio. Golden glimpses into the lives of strangers. Wine loosens any forebodings. I attack another broccoli on my plate; dip it in dressing before emptying the fork in my mouth.

Gossip and conversation scattered around me like dried leaves on a winter morning. I don’t pry, but I can’t discount odds and ends of stories whispered into my ears. Imagination fills the dashes, connects the dots, and colors the black and white picture of life around me. Lunch time is great for filling appetite; both stomach and soul. I gulp the last sip of my iridescent wine, and my world gleams back at me; complete and fully crafted. I leave behind a handsome tip and walk out of the restaurant triumphantly.

Florist

I mentally wave at the people en-route to my apartment; faces of my stories. I see a florist looking gloomily outside at the passer’s by. Is he an owner or an apprentice, I wonder? What secrets does he hide behind the colorful cheeriness of his flowers?

A well-dressed young man stops by to pick up some flowers. He examines the flowers; touching, feeling, inhaling the colorful bouquets. Who is he buying them for? A sweetheart or the wife he has grown to take for granted?

I see a beautiful lady dressed in a business suit hailing a cab from across the street. Her long blonde hair neatly tied in a pony. Her red lipstick stands out on her pale face. The cab stops and she looks past her shoulder nervously, and then at her watch. She is waiting for someone to join her on her ride, I am sure. Hurrying to get back to work, or a personal meeting, I wonder?

I pass a Mexican restaurant with a patio and a garden. There is a fountain brimming in the center. I see couples sitting, basking in the sun, listening to the Mariachi band.

Half a block away is my multi-storied apartment complex; grey and characterless. A man in his late seventies sits outside on a concrete chair. I should be getting back, but something about his disposition attracts me. I stop.

“Hello” I call out at the elderly gentleman. “What a lovely day.” I add, trying to spark a conversation.

“Ah yes lovely indeed. But then every day is lovely for a retired man.” He chuckles. His face wrinkles into a smile.

“Are you new here, Sir?” I ask curiously.

“I have lived here for more than 50 years, young lady. I moved here when I was a young lad and had a full set of hair. Got married and had children. They are all grown up now. Time does fly”. He trails off, doodling circles in the sand with the sharp edge of his walking stick.

“I moved here not too long ago but I pass by here every day and don’t remember seeing you before. Do you live close by?” I ask.

“I own the red house up the hill, with the ugly jallopy” he laughs pointing in the general direction of the house.

“Do you mean the large red house with the beautiful Garden” I ask excitedly? “I have seen it before. It’s beautiful. The house I mean…”

“Yes” he nods. “I and Sandy built it together. It was our baby” he ruminates.

“Sandy?”…

“Sandy…my wife. She was barely 20 and I was 25 when we met.” His face lights up. “When I saw her face for the first time, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. So beautiful was my Sandy. Ah those were the days”.

I did not ask where she was now, but he must have read my mind. “She was diagnosed with cancer five years ago. It was terminal.” he says wistfully. “She passed away soon after in a hospital.” He looks down. “It’s good she did. I would not have wanted her to linger in pain”.

“She died on my birthday. The dumb broad left me a birthday present I could never forget” he laughed disdainfully.

“I..I am so sorry for your loss” I stutter uncomfortably.

“Thank you my dear. You know how they say, ‘until death do us part’? Truth is when you live together with someone for 50 years; even death can’t do you apart. You just become a part of each other. Sandy lives on with me. I can feel her” he says touching his heart.

We sit quietly for a minute. The birds chirping in the sky. “So when is your birthday, Sir?” I ask, regretting the question the moment it is out.

“Tomorrow”, he replies.

Back at home I cook myself a gourmet meal of Mac n’ Cheese (out of the box)! My heart feels heavy. I cannot imagine losing someone who I have shared most of my life with only to find them gone so suddenly and with such little time to prepare.

Every night after dinner, I maintain a daily journal making notes of all the people and places I meet. The pen meets paper and bleeds a carnival of phantasmic characters that I can later borrow and craft into my stories.

The gloomy florist I saw on my way back home, for instance is owner –manager of the flower shop by day and a serial killer by night. And oh…maybe he lives with his mother, like Norman Bates in Psycho?

And the young man who stopped by to buy the bouquet of peonies, buys the same flowers everyday for his secret crush; the girl next door. He will leave them outside her door, like he does every morning. He is too scared to share his feelings and she is too self engrossed to care.

The beautiful lady hailing the cab was in a hurry to meet her lover. She waits for him by the taxi. They are supposed to meet and run away, but he never shows up. That day they end their 6 year love affair.

And the old man…I stop. What about the old man? His story is incredible as is. What is it like to live and grow old with someone only to wake up one morning and find they are gone forever? Sigh. The old man must feel so lonely. It’s his birthday tomorrow and also his wife’s death anniversary. I wonder where his children are? I think I will bake him a cake tonight. And tomorrow I will bring it over to his house for a surprise visit. That should cheer him up I say to myself gleefully. I know we have just met, but something tells me, we will be great friends. I pull out my apron and “Baking for Dummies” and set out into the kitchen.

The next morning I walk up to his beautiful red house and ring the doorbell. I wait. Nobody answers. Outside are two bottles of milk that haven’t been picked up. I turn the doorknob but it is locked. I walk back disappointed. I stop by the same bench that I met him at. He is not there.

“Ah there you are” calls out a voice from behind. I turn back and find the old man pointing at me. “Something told me I will find you here. Aah is that cake for me?” He asks excitedly.

“Yes” I respond excited to see his friendly face.

“Well then let’s cut it. I love a chocolate cake.”

We go up to upstairs to my tiny apartment and he makes himself comfortable. We cut the cake and pour us a drink and clink our glasses.

“Happy Birthday” I say.

“Norman” he adds spontaneously. My name is Norman.

“Hi Norman” I giggle. “I am Becky. “Happy Birthday Norman”.

You know he says forking downing his second slice, “this is the best cake I have had in a long time”.

We sit there for hours, he tells me about his life. From JFK and Vietnam War to the story of his life. We discuss some of the literary works of his time such as, “To kill a Mocking Bird”, “Catch 22”, and “One flew over a cuckoo’s nest”. I tell him about my life; as a recent graduate, unemployed but a budding although unpublished writer. Norman has a thousand other stories to fill me in on, and time just flies.

He looks outside the window it’s already dark.

“What says young lady, we go to my house, and I will pick up my coat and wallet and take you out to nice restaurant?” he asks.

“Are you sure?” I respond doubtfully.

I set off once more towards the red house with Norman. The house is dark inside and eerily quiet. Norman keys the door open. And a long dark passage opens up.

A sudden noise breaks the eerie silence, and I practically jump.

“Surprise” comes a volley of 50 odd voices. Suddenly there is light everywhere and large room full of young and old people with birthday hats and confetti. Endless showers of ‘Happy Birthday” and “We love you” resound. An elegant lady in her early 70’s runs out and embraces Norman and showers him with kisses, “Happy Birthday my darling. Hope you don’t mind this surprise party, the kids absolutely insisted” she says. He kisses her back sincerely “I love you Sandy”.

Sandy is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She is very elegantly dressed. Her skin is flawless and her features are chiseled. A beautiful young woman emerges from behind, and hugs Norman with open arms, “Happy Birthday daddy” she gushes. She is followed by her husband and children and then the family and all his friends. Norman is smiling and thanking them all, hugs, handshakes and high five’s.

He looks at me, puts his hand behind my shoulder and ushers me in. “Sandy, Lilly” he calls out to the two beautiful ladies. “I want you to meet a very special young friend of mine”. Sandy stretches out a much bejeweled hand towards me, “come in my lovely” she says warmly.

Norman’s house is exquisite; the walls are studded with pictures of Norman with wife and family, Norman receiving awards, Norman cutting ribbons at inauguration ceremonies. Oscars and Emmys fill the library. Norman is none other than the legendary script writer, director and Producer Norman Sandler who produced some of the biggest American classics.

I am spellbound and frankly cheated. Why did he lie about Sandy? Nothing about this vivacious, timeless beauty sounds dead to me? Sandy is looking at me, reading me. She laughs. “I am sorry my darling. You see my husband is a man of many talents. But he also has many faults. He is a bit eccentric. You see he used to write for his profession. He loves writing and telling stories so much, that he never says the truth anymore. Everything is a story. I don’t know what he told you my dear, but I assure you, he means no harm.”

Two hours later, I am too damn drunk and having too much fun to care. The man I met and spent the whole day chatting with in my studio apartment was none other than Norman Sandler. The most celebrated iconic personalities of his time. And he spent most of his birthday enjoying a cake made out of a box with an absolute stranger. I know now, he spent his whole day with me not because he was lonely, but because he knew; I was.

A note: This is a short story I have drafted in response to the Weekly Challenge posted on 20^th January called “Lunch Posts”. Per Erica’s suggestion I wrote it in pieces (during my free time) over the last 5 days. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Inspired by Daily Post

Daily Prompt: Captive’s Choice

You’ve been kidnapped and given a choice: would you rather be stranded on an island, dropped into an unknown forest, or locked in a strange building?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us CHOICE.

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Daily Prompt: Captive’s Choice

Life is all about the choices we make. Choices are like forks in the path of life, they always bring a sense of anxiety before, “should I choose this or that?” and a sense of doubt after, “what if I made the wrong choice?” Some choices are difficult while others are easy and then there are the choices that we never chose; they chose us.

Unfortunately, making choices has never been easy for me. To me, the idea of being “stranded” anywhere smacks of being “stuck” and it’s never nice to be “stuck”. The first thought that comes to mind is, “escape”. So the real question for me is not where I would rather be stranded but which of the three options would offer me the greatest opportunity to escape? An island, a forest or a strange building?

I must say while the idea of languishing on an island sounds more agreeable, I know I would find myself on wits end on finding an escape. I am neither a good swimmer nor daring enough to try tying myself to a dolphin’s back in order to escape. What’s worse I am a vegetarian, what would I eat?

So a forest? With an ample supply of flora one should think that may not be a bad option for a vegetarian like myself. But what about the animal life? Are there snakes, lions, bears in that forest that could turn me into a “happy meal”? I do not see myself as the bow and arrow kind of gal who should be able to survive by hunting predators. So that’s out.

That leaves me with the last option. The idea of being locked up in a strange building. Shudder. I am thinking “I am a Legend” with Will Smith. Shudder again. However, it may just offer me the greatest chance for an escape. Consider the worst possibility; the building had been abandoned years ago. However that only means it was inhabited at one time? There must be abandoned things inside I may potentially use for survival. One thing is for certain, it has to be on the human radar. Possibly even close to human civilization?

I would first try to break out of the cell my abductors abandoned me in. Then look for a telegraph machine or a radio that I could use to send out a Morse code. Any four walls would do fine to save me from the forces of nature. A rope to escape with, forsaken derelicts to burn a fire and some old tins of food. No not my idea of a perfect vacation, but enough to keep me in the business of survival!

I will say, dreary as the option to be marooned in a strange building sounds, there are worse places to be stuck in…the human mind for instance… Now there is a thought? I am thinking a sci-fi suspense? What says?

Weekly Photo Challenge: (theme of the week): Family

Yes, the 5 fingers of a hand represent in essence a family to me. Farfetched? Not really…

Each finger, so unique and independent from the other, and yet joined to each other by a bond so indestructible. To me this is what a family is all about…

Daily Prompt: The Luckiest People

Who was the first person you encountered today? Write about him or her.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us PEOPLE.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/18/daily-prompt-people/

I woke up to a pair of beautiful brown saucer eyes pouring at me. Ziggy was clutching my blanket between his teeth and pulling it off excitedly.

“No, Ziggy, it’s too early to wake up. It’s Saturday” I said sleepily.

“Woof, Woof” replied Ziggy tilting his head sideways, tail wagging merrily. “Woof, Woof” he barked again.

“Jeez” I sighed. My alarm clock I can set to snooze but Ziggy is relentless. “You win” I sighed again, as I peeled myself off my bed. “Seriously, how can anybody be so cute and annoying at the same time”? I wondered.

I love my Saturday mornings. They start with me enjoying a nice cup of tea while leafing through a magazine, followed by a long walk with Ziggy and finally a gourmet breakfast of whole wheat pancakes and eggs; sunny side up! Well the indulgence varies…but you get the point, don’t you?

I love going for walks on Saturday and Sunday mornings, people look so happy and relaxed, the weight of the week lifting away. My neighbor is walking his dog with his three musketeers; a Terrier, a Bichon and a Bolognese. We have never shared names, but he we always manage to get a nice word about the weather, the dogs or something trivial.

This weekend I have guests over for lunch and I make my famous veggie enchiladas (promise to share my recipe soon) and whole wheat muffins (with banana and honey, no sugar I Promise!).

So coming back to the crucial question. Who is the luckiest of them? My dog, neighbors, friends?

I must admit I think I am the luckiest of them all. Lucky to be alive and to have woken up to another beautiful day. Lucky to have dreams and the strength to fulfill them, lucky to have friends and family and the sense to cherish them.

I am lucky enough not to take this day or any other for granted. Hmmm… I could drink another cup of tea to that. Cheers to all equally lucky!

Daily Prompt: But No Cigar

Tell us about a time things came this close to working out… but didn’t. What happened next? Would you like the chance to try again, or are you happy with how things eventually worked out?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us CLOSE.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/category/daily-prompts/

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Angels, demons and vampires are recruited just like plumbers, craftsmen, teachers, politicians, priests and so forth. Walk-in interviews are held all over the world in pre-disclosed locations such as bars and restaurants over a glass of beer or wine (whatever your preference).

Intent upon joining the ranks of some well-established Angels such as Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, I walked into the “Blue Wings Dive Bar” on San Vicente, Los Angeles, which as I learned was holding interviews for the position of Junior Angel for Los Angeles.

The bar had a gothic ambience with ominous overtones. It was very dark with tall ceilings, and red roughed out tapestry and wall hangings. A coffee machine brewed coffee on one side breaking the icy solitude of the place. The décor reminded me of a cheap production play themed around 16^th century Renaissance period.

A very small man with dark glasses sat at the other edge of the bar. He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his work.

Without looking up he asked authoritatively, “Are you here for the interview?”

“Yes” I replied beamingly.

“Prior experience?” said the man without looking up.

“Well, I just graduated out of the ‘Helping Hand’ university. I don’t have much experience just yet”, I said apologetically. “Um…But I am a quick learner” I added.

The man looked up through his thick glasses. His face was wrinkled and his eyes twinkled with amusement, “Any freelance work or nonprofit engagements my fellow?” he asked kindly.

“Yes, I once climbed a building all the way to the top, to save a little cat that was stuck on a tin roof” I blustered.

“Good…good…And you saved the cat?”

“Um..as it seems the cat did not need no saving, Sir. The moment it saw me it cried out really loud, and jumped off the roof and landed perfectly on its four feet, before running off”, I said.

A shadow crossed over the man’s face. “Ahem…very good” …any other success stories saving animals, birds and the like?” His expression had changed.

I shook my head.

The man looked down at his work and hissed, “Did you ever do any community work?”

“I once acted in a play. I was the laugh track; I could laugh the loudest and the longest. But it must have been a very boring play, because by the time it was done there was no audience left. The theatre was stark empty”.

A tiny drop of sweat swept down the man’s forehead. He suddenly seemed to be deeply engrossed in his work again and wrote something on his scroll.

He then said dismissingly, “Well then that should be all. You may leave now. We shall let you know of our decision shortly via the angel mail.” “Thank you for your time Mister …eh…” he stumbled for my name.

“Dracula” I offered courteously, “they call me Count Dracula”.

I waited patiently for years but the angel mail never delivered my acceptance letter. Must have been a system glitch.

“Oh well, just as well. As you know life had better things for me, I have pulled up a decent reputation since then, sucking blood and stuff.

But that day I was this close to becoming an angel and ruining it all for me. Saving old women crossing the road, or cat jumping off the tree. Hell No! Them angels almost had me…But NO CIGAR….”

Ha, ha, ha.