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Showing posts from November, 2008

Raslila Poem

One of the poems which was recited while James Tod saw the rāslīlā is an excellent example of celebrating Krsna’s “roughish and deceitful tricks” by Rādhā, Jasodā and consequently by Braj poets and their audience: सुनिहो जसोदा फरियाद करों तकसीर सुनो अपने नट की । अहली जु चले बिँदराबन जाएँ जहाँ बाहँ झकझोर लियो झटकी । अहली मन मैं सुख छाइ रहे सखियाँ मुसकाई सबै सटकी । दधि माखन लूट लियो सगरो चट चौपट मैं मटकी पटकी ।। तुम ग्वलिन नार गँवार बड़ी कोऊ पावत ना तुम्हरे धट की । दस बीस मिलो बन को जो चलो तुम मानत ना अपनी हटकी । …रस कुंजन मैं जु किलोल करो हमसे (न) कहो मटकी पटकी ।। “Listen, Jasodā, this is my complaint. Hear the mischief of your actor:“When filled with joy, I went to Vrindāban, where he frolickingly wrenched my arms,“Joy spread in [his] mind and my smiling companions moved away from us.“He took away all my curd and butter and my earthen jar instantly smashed in plain view.“Oh, cowherd woman, you are a big fool; nobody can understand [the matter] of your heart.“Go in groups of ten or twent

The Golden Boat

Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain. I sit on the river bank, sad and alone. The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended, The river is swollen and fierce in its flow. As we cut the paddy it started to rain. One small paddy-field, no one but me - Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere. Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink On a village painted on deep morning grey. On this side a paddy-field, no one but me. Who is this, steering close to the shore Singing? I feel that she is someone I know. The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead, Waves break helplessly against the boat each side. I watch and feel I have seen her face before. Oh to what foreign land do you sail? Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while. Go where you want to, give where you care to, But come to the bank a moment, show your smile - Take away my golden paddy when you sail. Take it, take as much as you can load. Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard. My intense labour here by the river

The Little Prince

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The Little Prince Table of Contents Antoine de Saint-Exupery, who is was a french author, journalist and pilot wrote The Little Prince in 1943, one year before his death. The Little Prince appears to be a simple childrens tale, some would say that it is actually a profound and deeply moving tale, written in riddles and laced with philosopy and poetic metaphor. Chapter 1 to 27 The Little Prince Chapter 1 Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing. In the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion." I pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Numb