THE INDIAN COMMENTATOR

The life of the day is in the sun, in the wind too, in the song of the birds, and in the timeless lives of the flowers too. I know this all, and this too that it is day time, and there is life, though the sun is behind the clouds through the twilight, though the wind is not beheld through the flourish of the leaves, though the birds are not seen through the mirth in their songs, though the flowers are withered through their endless fragrance, Just like I know you are there Michael, alive in the heart of the Universe, through your songs. RIP Michael...

What a bird can; is the life of a cloud. What a cloud can ; is my dream, to shower you with, the drops of my soul; to rain.

To describe a smile, I groped all my dictionary; books that told great knowledge, libraries with material and spiritual wisdom. But, I failed. Finally, I said: “I love you.” thinking the lifetime I would get, to spend with you, would help me in my search. [Picture Courtesy: http://www.carolenasabah.com/ ]        

The most difficult part in love is to confess one's love. Proposing one's love is one of the most important as well as the most difficult things in human life. The life on the other side of the unexpressed love would be as other worldly as love itself. The dream like states, the romance, the passion, every thing will be the same, because there is no loss in love. But for some one out side the experience, it may seem abnormal or insane. I found one very intriguing example during one of my surfing through the Internet. It is a piece written by Fernando Pessoa , translated by Richard Zenith . I enjoyed it very much. So I am quoting it for you. Hope you also enjoy it.  Being in Love I always acted on the inside . . . I never touched life . . . Whenever I began to trace an action, I finished it in my dreams, heroically . . . A sword weighs more than the idea of a sword . . . I commanded large armies, won great battles, savored huge defeats—all inside me . . . I enjoyed strol...

I am cursed with distances from you. The distance of words, since you never hear from me. The distance of the eyes, since you never see my thoughts. The distance of smiling back, since you never see mine. The distance of nearness, since I never extend my hand.

So this is the day. Though a bit delayed the results are going to be announced for The Circle of Friends Award .I apologize for the delay occurred due to some technical reasons in announcing the results. I express my thankfulness for all the participants, and also for those who couldn't make it to answer the questions. The questions for the contest were: 1)What is the title given for the seventh drop of "Tears"? 2) What is the title of my first series of i-poems? 3) Who is known as the god of the Indian cricket? 4)An author has been quoted in the beginning of the poem "The Myth". Who is that author? 5)The post "The Silent Scream" carries the picture of a superhero. Who is that superher o? The answers are: 1)The Cure   2)Eyes   3)Sachin Tendulkar   4)Carlos Castaneda   5)Superman   And the Winners are... Sheri and Terri L. Hadji-Gauthier         CONGRATS WIN...

Hi there, as I promised in my previous post, here are the five questions, after answering which you would be selected for The Circle of Friends Award . But as every good contest or game, here also we have a rule or game plan. Play within the rules. Rule number one : The participant must be a follower of my blog, The Indian Commentator . If you are not a follower, you can follow right now and start participating in the contest. two : You must answer all the five questions if you want to secure your victory. Three : You should write the answers in the comment box below with properly numbering each of the answers. Remember, if you could not make sure that the numbers given to each of the questions are not followed in the answers, you might lose the chance to be a winner even if all your answers are correct. Directions :  All the questions are based on my blog: The Indian Commentator .     You can use the tools given on your right hand side in the blog to fin...

"If any one teaches you something new, whoever that be that person must be respected and should never be ill-treated."-The teacher said. The student, who was the prince of that kingdom in the southern part of India, listened to his teacher with awe and great respect. He was young and seemed in his twenties. When he reached the palace from his teacher's home, it was judgment time. The king had pronounced death sentence for an enemy soldier, imprisoned by the king's army in a recent war.  The prisoner was taken to a wooden scaffold. On which there was a wooden block. His arms were released from handcuff. The prisoner knelt down and placed his neck on the block. The executioner standing near him raised his huge axe. After a split second, the head of the prisoner would roll over the ground. The prince walked closer to the prisoner, his enemy. He wanted to see the prisoner's head roll down on the earth. Before the executioner raised his axe, the prisoner spoke: ...

Some people are afraid to fall in love. They are in an endless attempt to negotiate with the uncertainties love brings for them. Here is one example... " I've been in love with you for weeks.' There's no such thing,' she says. 'It's a rhetorical device. It's a bourgeois fallacy.' Haven't you ever been in love, then?' When I was younger,' she says, 'I allowed myself to be constructed by the discourse of romantic love for a while, yes.' What the hell does that mean?' We aren't essences, Vic. We aren't unique individual essences existing prior to language. There is only language."  --David Lodge ...they theorize love and forget that love happens in the complete absence of negotiations between the self and the external. There is only complete forgetting of the  internal self and the external. Some people are really afraid to fall in love.

Love Love supplies a mysterious power, into your hands. When you write about rain, it rains. And when you write about tears, you cry. It is raining. Rain is good. I feel tears in my eyes. Tears also are good. I write and the raindrops sweep away words from my paper leaving it blank, wet. And there is no one to hold an umbrella for me. Therefore, there won't be a new drop of tear anymore. Though it won't end, let me stop now.