The meeting for the month of May is going to be held on this Sunday 3rd May at 1.30 pm.Same place -Mocha ,Lavelle Rd.
Please bring along a copy of any of your works that you would like to have read at the meeting.
Hope to see you all there.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Strange- WIP
Hi Everyone...this is a work in progress...I am not sure how to take it fwd...as in to reveal the suspense and then go ahead...or keep with the suspense and let it unfold as the story goes along...your suggestions Please...
Strange things happen to us at the most unexpected hours of our lives. Like today sitting in my local café, sipping my usual espresso, I was beginning to do my writing, when an old fellow entered the café. A rather unusually traditional fellow with a red dot on his forehead that blatantly declared his Hindu religion as also his religiousness. Adorning a polyester shirt and cheap jeans, a thinning grey hairline-all of which reminded me of the head clerk at my office.
He looked around like he was searching for someone, only to walk straight up to me, ”Sushma?”…
“NO!”…is what I actually wanted to say ,but blurted out in the affirmative.
He smiled plunked himself on the empty chair in front of me. I was grinning sheepishly, since I obviously had no clue where this was going or what I was doing.
“So..”
“So..”
“So, Hope you have read the script.”
Ouch! That hurt below the belt. I clearly had not just landed in a soup; I had actually poured the hot liquid over myself. Besides, not being the kind to be able to think on her feet, I was beginning to panic. Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead, and was almost about to give up on it when I just told myself ‘Oh! What the hell!” Just give it a shot; maybe, just maybe this could be fun after all.
So for obviously not having read the script in question, I cooked up one of the most commonly used excuse,
‘Er..No… You see I have been very busy off late .I was actually hoping we’d read it together so it would save us the time.’
Wow! Saved for now, but I could see the confusion building up on his face. Thankfully he let it pass for now.
Short Story Competition
The Commonwealth Short Story Competition is an annual scheme to promote new creative writing. It exists to increase understanding and appreciation of Commonwealth cultures and to promote rising literary talents. Each year 26 winning and highly commended stories from the different regions of the Commonwealth are recorded on to CDs and broadcast on radio stations across the Commonwealth. The winner receives a prize of £2,000 and there are regional prizes of £500. The competition is open to all people who are citizens of a Commonwealth member country. There is no age limit or requirement to write about a particular theme. Entries may be made by both amateur and professional writers. The deadline for entries is 11 May 2009. Please see http://www.commonwealthfoundation.com/culturediversity/shortstory/
Landscape Painting
Among the various hobbies one may pursue, painting, especially landscape painting; I believe is the most refreshing, the most exciting one. When you look at the paintings rendered by a master like Ravi Varma, Rembrandt, or Renoir, you might feel that this is a feat that calls for extensive training, relentless perseverance, and above all, super human talent. Well, for that matter, to excel in anything calls for all of these traits and perhaps, if you are of the mindset to admit it, at least a modicum of providential grace. Yet, the thrills of painting are open to anyone who cares to will. Just buy the colors and start painting; you are certain to end up painting something…someone. And if you want to improve fast, train yourself to love this earth, to admire her beauty.
Let your heart run out into the endless fields of paddy like a truant little child and your mind go chasing it, like its mother. Let it run up those barren hills that are hazily silhouetted against the sketchy horizons of the dusk, let it fly after the mustering of storks hurrying home across the indignant twilight skies of June, let it stop short and wonder at the invincibility and the wild beauty of the mighty banyan trees that have braved the ruthless fury of many a hurricanes and tempests, and let it be fascinated by the creases that form on the country belle’s skirt when a wayward gust of wind swirls it up around her and plasters it to her. That’s how you start. Before long, your mind becomes a camera that clicks every piece of beauty it comes across.
When you need to travel by train, travel in a non-air-conditioned coach so that you get to see the beauty of the landscape the lucky train chugs through. Watch the men and the women sowing and reaping; those far-off little children celebrating life; the forms of animals that would seem as significant or as insignificant as the people themselves; the clouds of different shapes and sizes in their domineering, nonchalant gait; and when it begins to get dark…the huge palm trees that seem like vaguely visible specters in the moonlight. Believe that they are actually yakshis and celestial beings standing out and drying their luscious tresses in the moonlight…believe that they are actually sirens who would ensnare lonely wayfarers with their meretricious charms…believe that the deserted landscape you are passing through will on certain nights be lit by mysterious fairy lamps…that the wistful midnight serenade of a solitary gandharva by her window will make a young woman in that distant hut a somnambulist following him to some forlorn magic world. If rationale and reason were all that were there, won’t life, won’t this earth and our existence become as clinical, bland, and matter-of-fact as an equation in thermodynamics? And then, my dear friend, won’t our lives, our travails, our aspirations, our pains, our joys, our sorrows, our hopes, our dreams, our deaths, be all ends in themselves with no subtle or noble purpose governing them? Yes, our lives are as enigmatic a phenomenon as are our advent, our departure. You can see a thousand paintings in a single journey…countless in your journey along the shores of time.
Imagine that the window of the train is a canvass and the sights you see through it, the paintings on it. Don’t you see that with a larger area of the sky inside that canvass, the expanse of land covered is larger with lesser of details, and with a lesser area of the sky, the expanse of land covered is lesser with more of details? Don’t you see that the intensity of contrasts and colors decrease with distance? That some clouds are without any blending with the sky? That those distant, colorfully clothed people in the fields make the fields seem alive? That those lazy buffaloes wallowing in the slush hardly have any distinguishable shape? (Yet, what makes you feel, impresses, that they are buffaloes?). Yes, Sisley learnt nature's dispositions; Vermeer borrowed her charms; and Pissarro perpetuated her moods. Click your mind’s camera. You may not get back many of the takes when you begin to paint, but you certainly will, at least a few.
Poster colors constitute a good medium to start with. They are not very expensive, are readily amenable to mixing and blending, and give a finish quite close to that of oil colors unless unduly thinned. Besides, they are suitable for mixed media paintings; especially they go well with smatterings of acrylic. And more than sticking to any professional guideline stick to the objective of capturing the beauty of nature as completely as you can. Professional guidelines are, after all just tested tricks to make things easier for you in achieving this objective. And this is true not just for painting, but for any form of art. I know persons who sing like angels, but have not learnt music—thanks to circumstances.
The delights of pursuing any art are virtually unlimited. It refreshes your mind, invigorates your spirit, and boosts your self esteem. And by painting landscapes, you might be indirectly contributing to the cause of preserving nature by drawing the attention of some people to the pristine splendor of nature—people who are so preoccupied with their own lives that they fail to notice how good this earth is.
V K Rajan
Let your heart run out into the endless fields of paddy like a truant little child and your mind go chasing it, like its mother. Let it run up those barren hills that are hazily silhouetted against the sketchy horizons of the dusk, let it fly after the mustering of storks hurrying home across the indignant twilight skies of June, let it stop short and wonder at the invincibility and the wild beauty of the mighty banyan trees that have braved the ruthless fury of many a hurricanes and tempests, and let it be fascinated by the creases that form on the country belle’s skirt when a wayward gust of wind swirls it up around her and plasters it to her. That’s how you start. Before long, your mind becomes a camera that clicks every piece of beauty it comes across.
When you need to travel by train, travel in a non-air-conditioned coach so that you get to see the beauty of the landscape the lucky train chugs through. Watch the men and the women sowing and reaping; those far-off little children celebrating life; the forms of animals that would seem as significant or as insignificant as the people themselves; the clouds of different shapes and sizes in their domineering, nonchalant gait; and when it begins to get dark…the huge palm trees that seem like vaguely visible specters in the moonlight. Believe that they are actually yakshis and celestial beings standing out and drying their luscious tresses in the moonlight…believe that they are actually sirens who would ensnare lonely wayfarers with their meretricious charms…believe that the deserted landscape you are passing through will on certain nights be lit by mysterious fairy lamps…that the wistful midnight serenade of a solitary gandharva by her window will make a young woman in that distant hut a somnambulist following him to some forlorn magic world. If rationale and reason were all that were there, won’t life, won’t this earth and our existence become as clinical, bland, and matter-of-fact as an equation in thermodynamics? And then, my dear friend, won’t our lives, our travails, our aspirations, our pains, our joys, our sorrows, our hopes, our dreams, our deaths, be all ends in themselves with no subtle or noble purpose governing them? Yes, our lives are as enigmatic a phenomenon as are our advent, our departure. You can see a thousand paintings in a single journey…countless in your journey along the shores of time.
Imagine that the window of the train is a canvass and the sights you see through it, the paintings on it. Don’t you see that with a larger area of the sky inside that canvass, the expanse of land covered is larger with lesser of details, and with a lesser area of the sky, the expanse of land covered is lesser with more of details? Don’t you see that the intensity of contrasts and colors decrease with distance? That some clouds are without any blending with the sky? That those distant, colorfully clothed people in the fields make the fields seem alive? That those lazy buffaloes wallowing in the slush hardly have any distinguishable shape? (Yet, what makes you feel, impresses, that they are buffaloes?). Yes, Sisley learnt nature's dispositions; Vermeer borrowed her charms; and Pissarro perpetuated her moods. Click your mind’s camera. You may not get back many of the takes when you begin to paint, but you certainly will, at least a few.
Poster colors constitute a good medium to start with. They are not very expensive, are readily amenable to mixing and blending, and give a finish quite close to that of oil colors unless unduly thinned. Besides, they are suitable for mixed media paintings; especially they go well with smatterings of acrylic. And more than sticking to any professional guideline stick to the objective of capturing the beauty of nature as completely as you can. Professional guidelines are, after all just tested tricks to make things easier for you in achieving this objective. And this is true not just for painting, but for any form of art. I know persons who sing like angels, but have not learnt music—thanks to circumstances.
The delights of pursuing any art are virtually unlimited. It refreshes your mind, invigorates your spirit, and boosts your self esteem. And by painting landscapes, you might be indirectly contributing to the cause of preserving nature by drawing the attention of some people to the pristine splendor of nature—people who are so preoccupied with their own lives that they fail to notice how good this earth is.
V K Rajan
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Opinion for Meeting Schedule
Hi Everyone....
Since 1st is a holiday in most places, the first weekend being a long one...I wanted to know if you guys wanted to hold next month's meeting on the following weekend as against the usual first sat/sun of the month. Please let me have a majority by Wednesday.
Thanks.
Since 1st is a holiday in most places, the first weekend being a long one...I wanted to know if you guys wanted to hold next month's meeting on the following weekend as against the usual first sat/sun of the month. Please let me have a majority by Wednesday.
Thanks.
Friday, April 17, 2009
BROKEN HEARTS.!!
In this tiring world,
That just spins beneath my feet..
Dizzy mazes and confusing faces,
Story inside your heart,
Is a mystery you cannot let anybody dart..
Fast is faster,
Hurt is bigger,
Burnt are the vices,
Which you hold against me..
Graceful are the roads and fly-by arches,
Held down by inhuman crutchs,
But do tell me how to mend a broken heart..!!
Ace of Swords - a Tarot verse
Here are Wishes for a victory
And if this is a war of the mighty,
May you have the strength
To see you through until the end.
This may be your first step,
And you may feel shaky from within.
But stay firm in your vision;
Remember that you are not alone,
Look for a mighty force from above
To hold your hand and lead you on.
Think not about the laurels and the crown,
But take the path that feels right
And you will achieve more than what you dream of.
May the clouds of uncertainty disappear,
And fire up your imagination and skills,
So your days are filled and complete.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As a tarot reader, I enjoy writing verses for the Tarot cards. The Ace of Swords is a Minor Arcana card that speaks of a beginning, a goal that could lead one to victory, and enlightenment. The meaning of the card could change depending on its position in a spread.
In The Heart Of The Ocean
In the heart of the ocean
buried deep under the waters
a lovely true legend
which does not have an end.
Life that they liked to live
but fate ever did not give
them a chance to live.
Yet the lovely true legend
which does not have an end
for God to shed down his glory towards the
true under water love story which
has to spread to many.
Still then my heart will go on
in to the shallow depths of the ocean
to bring life to the true legend which
got submerged before a decade
without an end.
Buried
Silent words unspoken
Under the veil of fake and guilt,
Emotions unexpressed,
Lying below the net of fear and rage,
Concealed territories,
Unexplored for want of courage and spirit,
Insecurity of the future, Eating away underneath the sheath of ego
Under the veil of fake and guilt,
Emotions unexpressed,
Lying below the net of fear and rage,
Concealed territories,
Unexplored for want of courage and spirit,
Insecurity of the future, Eating away underneath the sheath of ego
Waiting
Waiting for life to happen...
All the time...
Not wanting what is there.
Wanting what is not there..
All the time...
Life passing by...
Like grains of sand...
From my hand...
Time flying off..
To another shore ...
Another Love...
Another Life...D
eadening and Blinding...
To the beauty of existence...
Holding on to the pain..
So tight that it suffocates...
Not only the breathe,But also the love out of life...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Pitched Battle between Brain & Heart
It happened two days back, on my way to home from office. On the noisy road, I heard a strong voice shouting on somebody. A snack shop owner was yelling on a little girl. All of a sudden I felt that there is no voice except for the shop owner’s voice.
I saw that tiny little girl some thing in age of 3-4 years, wearing a green skirt with bare foot. Finally that girl left that shop and stood some distant from the shop looking with her cute, unsatisfied eyes to people eating there. But, no body paid any attention to her.
I saw her weeping, drying her eyes pearl. I noticed no body bothered to fulfill her hunger desire.
Suddenly something happened to me. I feel as if I am at the center of a closed emotionally sphere. My heart started beating fast. I am sinking. I felt that I am loosing something and I finally thought to help that little creature of GOD. My legs started moving towards her. But, in the next second something happened. My brain was pulverizing my thought to help her. I wanted to help that little poor human being but, there was a nuclear world war going inside my mind with my heart.
I was struck and finally I left that place with a melancholy mood thinking that I might have helped that poor gift of GOD, but, due to fight inside me I was not in a position to help her.
I saw that tiny little girl some thing in age of 3-4 years, wearing a green skirt with bare foot. Finally that girl left that shop and stood some distant from the shop looking with her cute, unsatisfied eyes to people eating there. But, no body paid any attention to her.
I saw her weeping, drying her eyes pearl. I noticed no body bothered to fulfill her hunger desire.
Suddenly something happened to me. I feel as if I am at the center of a closed emotionally sphere. My heart started beating fast. I am sinking. I felt that I am loosing something and I finally thought to help that little creature of GOD. My legs started moving towards her. But, in the next second something happened. My brain was pulverizing my thought to help her. I wanted to help that little poor human being but, there was a nuclear world war going inside my mind with my heart.
I was struck and finally I left that place with a melancholy mood thinking that I might have helped that poor gift of GOD, but, due to fight inside me I was not in a position to help her.
Inaugural Post
Hi! Everyone!
This will be our official blog for the club...Hope we can make the most from it...since it was so much in demand...:)..
Happy Writing!
This will be our official blog for the club...Hope we can make the most from it...since it was so much in demand...:)..
Happy Writing!
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