Coyote in the blue

Are comic geniuses creatures of thwart or sublime turrets of pure thought un fazed illusions of grandeur.Replete with such geniuses history permits occational winks in to the morass of the dazzling crucible of creation.Fleeting visages hover in perpetual delusional mirth ,the initiated senses the cue and the taciturn communicator peruses the scripts or orchestrates precise in the interlocutors stream aiming wide audience.Strategy alone may not be the best answer to the perennial problenm.The absence of trust has gored many a pride of their legitimate space

All for the sake of love

Florentino Ariza was so befuddled that he was unaware of the state of the world and a military patrol surprised him one dawn as he disturbed the chastity of the dead with his amorous provocations .By some miracle he escaped summary execution after he was accused as a spy who sent messages in the key of G to the liberal ships marauding in the nearby waters.
"What the hell do you mean a spy"said Florentino Ariza."I am nothing but a poor lover."
For three nights he slept with irons around his ankles in the cells of the local garrison.By when he was released he felt defrauded by the brevity of his captivity and even in the days of his old age when so many other wars were confused in his memory he still thought he was the only man in the city and perhaps in the country who had dragegd five pounds of irons for the sake of love.

-Love in the time of cholera ; Gabriel GArcia Marquez.

The snake rescue

Today morning a large rat snake got coiled in n mesh an d was resced by a few animal /snake lovers .We were not in a position to document the spectacle but here are a few snaps of the spectacle.In the end we were successful but the ferocity of the dart precluded a focused concerted activity of the camera and the human brain and hence the fine moments were lost to posterity

.In the court of Akbar Badshah ( `Badshah', loosely translated, means `emperor'), there was a musician called Tansen. He used to enthrall everyone in Akbar's Court with his superb performances. Once, after such a rendition, Akbar started praising him sky-high and said, "There can be no-one else in this world who can sing so well". Tansen disagreed, saying he knows of a hermit who lives in the jungle on the banks of Yamuna river who is far superior and that Tansen himself has learnt music from him for sometime. Akbar, who could not believe this, wanted to listen to this hermit in order to judge for himself. Since the hermit did not want any publicity, it was decided that Tansen will take Akbar near the place where the hermit lived and they should listen to his music without creating any disturbance.

They set out one day and reached the jungle near the river Yamuna, where, at a distance, they saw the hermit's hut. As the sun was setting on Yamuna, with all Nature at peace, the hermit came out his hut, sat on a rock facing the river and started singing. Akbar could immediately see that this was music of a completely different class which Tansen could never produce.

On their way back, Akbar queried, "Tansen, you say he taught you music; clearly, he has held back some techniques from you".

"No", said Tansen. "I know all the technical aspects of music he does."

"But, Tansen, then how do you account for such difference in quality ?"

"It is simple. He sings for Yamuna while I sing for Badshah".

Dry Drops

Gestures of civilised parting betray emotions of profanity when confronted by sleet of pain.Garbles of fate are prosecuted in the crucible of karma and the humane elves intend on the knowledge pastled out in the yogics fail to comprehend the script of the healr.Left confounded in the parish of the obscure cartons of the abbyss take turnkey affairs in the part of the grand drama of the self and eternal gurus are stymed in the pcituresque harizons of existence

The say

Senses benumb at diagnosis,a vacant gaze into infinity driving questions at the supreme somewhere in the horizon waiting for an answer that never will come.The fabric of self is stretched to the limitand pertinent meanings whither away into nothingness as the dawn of reality nears.Poor selves like tightened strings they try to operate with ease and to oblivion it extends

Beauty

A thing of beauty is a joy forever ,
Its lovliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness;
But still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing."
- John Keats


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