Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Water channels

Next time you are in the Tai Tam Country Park, pause to check out the 21-arch Tai Tam Upper Reservoir Masonry Aqueduct. You are looking at a master feat of engineering.

Broadly used to describe any water-carrying channel, an aqueduct is a bridge-like structure supporting a conduit or canal passing over a river or low ground. The practice of using underground or land pipes and tunnels to transport water is as old as the Harappan civilisation. But it was the Romans who used them extensively to transport water over long distances for drinking and for public baths. It was one such relic known as the Pont du Gard, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which I visited a few kilometres off Nimes (尼姆) in Southern France (法國).

Pont in French means a bridge. Pont du Gard, or bridge on the River Gard, was built in 1AD “to carry a section of the channels and pipes” of the 50-kilometre aqueduct that transported water from the Eure Spring in the city of Uzes (澤斯) to Nimes, a Roman colony then. It also served as a footbridge for travellers to cross the river.
At 49 metres, Pont du Gard with its three rows of arches – six in the bottom row, 11 in the middle and 47 (only 35 remain) in the top row - is the highest and one of the best preserved Roman aqueduct bridges. Atop the third row is the covered water channel. The structure’s maintenance became irregular by the fourth century and completely ceased by the sixth century.

Watching the bridge as the sun blazes in the backdrop sets the imagination loose. It appears like a grand gate standing guard over a city. It is surreal to observe the signatures left behind by craftsmen and artisans of the Compagnons du Tour de France, a group that has since the Middle Ages travelled afar to apprentice with various teachers. The bridge casts dark shadows on the green river water, neatly dividing it into dark and sun-lit columns.

Trekking down so far to just meet an ancient sentry holding its post may not sound appealing to some of you. But think back to the many arched bridges you may have crossed in trains or watched in movies. Think about the Bowen aqueduct that quenches the Central District. There is history behind everyday phenomena. The present is but rooted in the past and it is the achievements and discoveries of the olden times that have brought the modern world so far.

Photo: Wikipedia

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Work Relax Eat

When life throws lemons at you make lemonade. I am not sure if that is how it goes but I am sure that is what it precisely means. Past month, I decided to put on war paint and not duck the lemons that life has taken to throwing at me. Even war generals get cold feet. I started unsteady but steeled on the way. I worked late, over the weekend, forgot about the helper's impending leave and the gathering dust and laundry. As I pushed my aching self to the limit, I discovered that I may soon be glaring at the world with four eyes. At the end I got to lie down on the beach, go kayaking, spot jelly fishes, watch people, have yummy food, get tanned, sleep and shop. Putting up on of my favourite pictures of the short holiday I went on.


(That's not me)

Friday, December 3, 2010

Doubts

There are days when my confidence sinks like an iron ball in water. I am tormented by doubts - Am I intelligent? Do I look good? Do I dress well? Is my home pretty Do I write well?

Answers to these questions are best not answered I suppose. Because it is in the doldrums and in the storms we battle that we meet life and grow. I am still anxious but I hope that tomorrow will be better.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Freefall

My feet felt like jelly. The heart’s pounding seemed to be coming through a stethoscope. As I tethered on the edge, holding on to life, I felt myself being pushed forward into the endless abyss. Time stood still for a moment. The shock of being pushed out of an aircraft had numbed me. And then I screamed.

It all started a day ago when I arrived in Queenstown. Situated on Lake Wakatipu in the South Island of New Zealand, the town is essentially a haven for lovers of adventure sports. Of all its daredevil sports, Queenstown is best known for skydiving. After meeting almost a dozen people who were heading for a date with the skies, I could not resist the temptation to sign up too. I was to jump from a small aircraft the next day along with two other brave hearts.

Before the jump, we were given some vital instructions, jumpsuits, helmets, goggles and gloves. The drill was to be simple. The instructors who would be accompanying each one of us would help us jump out lest we had second thoughts. After a freefall of 45 seconds, they would open the parachutes and after five minutes we would be back on Earth.

As the aircraft climbed to an altitude of 12,000 foot, I silently watched my co-jumpers sucked out into the white emptiness. Soon it was my turn to take the plunge. My hands had turned cold inside the gloves. I inched towards the door but I was not supposed to charge forward like a bull and get over with it. I had to balance myself on the edge of the aircraft’s door and then jump. The instructor was getting restless at my chosen moment for reverie but I could not move. It was then that he pushed me.



When I had screamed my lungs out for what seemed like an eternity, I stared in awe at the scene below. The lake below was a blazing blue amidst brown hills. The stillness was sense-defying and I felt suspended in a timeless void. If silence could be defined, then that is how it would be. I was at peace. As the freefall was cut short by the opening of the parachute, I came back to reality. It was soon time to be back on Earth. As I sat down to pull myself together, I knew that I would be back someday.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Panting over paintings

I am in seventh heaven! Two paintings up! After listening to P’s grumbling for months over neglecting the painting he gifted me and feeling devastated over my own pick looking drab in frame, the Eureka idea hit me like lightning. P was immediately put to work and the genius he is, my masterpieces were up and hanging in minutes. Needless to say, they look fabulous together!

And every time I have one more frame up, I am reminded of the 14-year-old who left no corner of her room bare. There were drawings all over. A huge hand-made poster of Daisy Duck adorned the door that opened into the living room. My dad did a double-take every time he entered my room and I had to grudgingly take off a few of my lovelies.

Some day when I have a daughter, I want her to pick a pen and scribble like there is no tomorrow (a son will be no less welcome to do the honours). I know I will regret that! But I want her to get over her inhibitions and know that every discovery begins with few failures. Decorating one’s home comes naturally to some people but for most it is a tedious and scary process. I belong in the latter category.

I am taking baby steps towards putting together a home that has a soul and a look. Material goals are often more elusive than the spiritual ones. But I will be there someday. Till then back to drooling over my new loves.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Work

Apart from the back breaking hours I spend bent over proofs, the new job has been fun. It is like giving up the macro view for the micro; abandoning binoculars for a microscope; and giving up dreams of flying to scour the earth. I am still rusty with my commas and hyphens and ignorant of grammatical rules but I am learning to slow down and hunt for the errant quotation marks and the hideous z.

And as I frown at my computer screen all day long, the day turns into night and ships return to the dock after a hard day’s work. From a blazing blue the world outside turns into a cascade of black and from the window glass pane I look back at myself.

Burden

A feeder ship laden with sand stands alone in the middle of the harbour off Shau Kei Wan.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Belonging

I am religious, if I can be considered one, more religious than I ever was because I feel lost in a sea of faces that have nothing in common with me.

Sign

Playing dumb charades the other day, I told a friend that if it is an old movie, I will touch my hair.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Diversity

It is fascinating to watch the same programme flash in synchrony out of five TV sets, in five houses on five consecutive floors.

Last evening...

The setting sun reminded me of my mother going through her daily tryst with the gods. The soothing, vermilion orb resembled the dot of orange carelessly put nearer to her left eyebrow. As the sun dimmed in the arms of grey clouds, it looked more like her teeka that faded in the creases of her day.

Monday, August 9, 2010

You know what...

The mind conjures stories and alternative lives with every heartbeat

Friday, August 6, 2010

An announcement

Next month will see me seven stations down the blue line.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Dear sister, I am 29 today and I miss you...

Two decades ago, in a city in a faraway country, two sisters sat on the edge of a low roof, counting cars. The younger one barely able to keep her Bata chappals from falling off, counted black cars. The elder one slyly counted white Maruti 800s.

In a while, bored of the never ending flow of vehicles and failing to spot more black cars beyond 11, the younger one asked her elder sister: “Didi! When I am 11, how old will you be?” “17” said the elder sister. “And when I am 17?” “23”. “When I am 23?” “29”. “That big?” the younger sister said with wonder in her big round eyes. “What would happen then?” she asked her didi. “We will be big, said the elder one irritated with the volley of questions.....

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Wanna play hangman?

"The role of a hangman in the execution of a death sentence is very crucial. The job needs special training from doctors of forensic science. It's a highly technical job, since he has to tie the rope around the neck in such a manner that the accused dies in the minimum amount of time, which can range from 150 to 300 seconds. If the accused is muscular, then the period may increase to even seven or eight minutes. As per the Maharashtra prison manual, he is eligible to get a maximum of Rs 75 for each execution".

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The way we go

Of all the stories Ma told me when I was young, I remember most vividly the one about the young man to be hanged. It was not dark and it was not tragic but it was pointless in its point then, as the culprit was not the boy’s bad deeds but his mother’s inability to stop him when he did wrong. Ma went on and on, upping the magnitude of the boy’s crimes, as he grew older.

Since then, I have often thought about the boy. Because as I think, as I have thought over the years, I want to tell Ma, and one day my kid, another story about two brothers who had a drunkard father. One brother adopted the father’s ills, spiteful and angry at fate for giving him such a parent; the other brother however, aspired to learn from his father’s example and be a better person.

The two stories have often baffled me for no reason. They have come back in the most trying of times and most placid moments. They are my deepest source of strength when everything else fails me. And they have come back to me, as I fight back tears and a lump in my heart, for no reason.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Thoughts on IPL Modi

Skeletons and corpses being pulled out of Lalit Modi’s IPL and earlier years appear like a joke. The BCCI, the government and the media are zapped at how Modi channeled IPL moolah to weave a royal, jet-setting life for himself. But the dirt that these conscience keepers are blowing into the faces of people like me, was it ever hidden, unknown or impalpable?

I admit I never followed state elections that led to Raje’s fall in Rajasthan, but why did I not get to read about her corrupt lackey, Mr Modi? Why did no newspaper or channel ever wonder aloud about Modi’s connection to the Burmans? Were overseas trips, a jet-taxi, the hotel suite and his brashness so discreet and sweet that they were utterly forgivable and forgettable until Sania did not fly off to Pakistan and leave behind a paparazzi gap that begun to see potential as soon as tweeting went overboard?

Before Modi spilled the beans on Pushkar and her sweat equity, why did she never bless the gossip columns? Why is Tehelka adopting a holier than thou tone in reporting an interview it conducted with the potential Mrs Tharoor with golden hair. Women move up ladders, strike alliances of convenience to benefit and in some cases lead to a man’s fall. There is nothing new about it all and there is no victimastion here.

For all the righteous frenzy that surrounds IPL at the moment, the truth is, this is no witch-hunt. It is a power game, where the current head is being cut off to re-grow a new head of mutual convenience and benefit. One day all of a sudden, Modi and his dark deeds would disappear from the media glare, and we will move on to a new blockbuster of love, sex, business, lecherous gurus, political alliances and dhoka. Business would be back to usual.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Face wash

It is said if it said that we grow with time. If we do then it is probable we put on layers of growth every time the “TIME” spins a new googly our way.

In my case, it seems, every experience is simply a cleanser that wipes some more black from my face. After every face wash I open my eyes to see a bit more of ME in the mirror. If so then many bottles of face wash later, I am sure to discover my true self san makeup.

But if life is to be lived, till the last breath, then during my last moments in this life, when I have nothing to lose, I may finally be rubbed clean to reveal that purest and truest of myself. But then I will promptly be signed off with canisters of ghee and the lick of flames and a blow to my poor skull that would all remain when the flames are done.

PS: watched The Ghost Writer (TGW) yesterday. Two thoughts!

1. Does an actor make a role or does a role make the actor? Wrong English? Never mind! Pierce Brosnan does not tug at my heart the way Akshay does despite the tragedy called “Singh is King”. I have watched Mr Brosnan in bits as Bond and hold on to my belief that Daniel Craig bought more sense and brawn to the role in his first tryst. I have watched Brosnan in “The Thomas Crown Affair”, “Mama Mia” and now TGW and beyond the good looks, suaveness and sleekness; I have failed to understand his style. His acting feels like my cooking skills that end up making every dish I concoct, taste the same.

2. I forgot!!!!!

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Soch

A long-distant friend told me she was unhappy because she thought too much. I advised her to stop thinking and get busy like I am, in straightening cushions, smoothening creases out of the bed sheet, buying flowers, doing grocery, cooking in a while, bitching and other mundanities.

She asked if I ever gave in to thinking?

I admitted, I did, on weekends, when there were no omelets to be whipped, 8:30am trains to catch and office machines to be punched before 9am. And when this happened-that thinking and thoughts assaulted my mind, my self, bereft of a routine, I felt depressed.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Whose fault?

From the HK Magazine...

It’s something most of us take for granted, but for Bibi and her mother, the simple task of opening a bank account has proved a frustrating struggle. Bibi was born and raised in Hong Kong and her mother has lived here for more than 20 years. They both have permanent residency, and both Pakistani and British National (Overseas) passports. Two months ago, her mother got a new job and wanted to open a Hang Seng Bank account, but unlike average Chinese Hong Kongers, who only need to submit their ID card, proof of address and the required sum of money, the teller at Hang Seng Bank asked whether she was Indian or Pakistani. “Then the teller asked if my mother still holds a Pakistani passport,” recalls Bibi. “When my mom said yes, the member of staff told her that she was being rejected because ‘Pakistan is a terrorist country’ and they have to prevent cases of money laundering for terrorists.” What is even more preposterous is, Bibi herself was once told to just put “Chinese” as her nationality in order to speed up the process when opening a bank account a few years before, something she is uncomfortable with now that she knows the reason why. “It’s unfair because we are Hong Kong residents, just like local Chinese,” she says. “My mom doesn’t even use her Pakistani passport anymore—it’s been lying at the bottom of a drawer for 20 years.”


It is not about Pakistanis and it is not about Hong Kong banks but how the cause that one supports, paints the ones who do not concur, with the same brush. Both the sides stand justified just as the German immigration officer at the Munich Airport, who made me take off my shoes, my belt and my jacket because the metal in my junk jewellery awakened the sensors. It took me long to get over it. The officer’s defense I assume were probably the four brown faces staring out from “wanted terrorists” posters all around.

To read the rest of Bibi and her mother’s story click here:

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Dilli Bambai

Wrote this once upon a time...

Dilli

It seems that the collective rag bhairavi of the Delhi junta melted the rain God. The city is rocking. And the first real rains of this season have come in style. I just came back from a ritual I have been doing as long as I can remember. Had a great time getting wet in the rains. This place looks awesome. For the poor mortals who can only see concrete for miles and miles, watching trees coming dangerously low, long winding glistening roads and street lights looking like hazy twinkles can be a dream.

Went out with my umbrella, which breathed its last today. Sat in my favorite place, which is a broken brick wall with eucalyptus trees and a small road in front. On a lucky day, I can sight at least six peacocks. Though my place is flooding, I can’t shut out the rains. I am happy.

It would be wrong if I don’t put in my metaphor for a rainy day. Looks the sky is crying along with me….. Its time, for Neruda and a hot cuppa of chai.

.........And it was at that time... Poetry came
to find me. Don’t know, don’t know from where,
it leapt, winter or the river.
Don’t know how or when
no, not words, not
voices, not silence,
but I was called from the street,
from the branches of the night,
suddenly, from the others,
in violent flames,
or coming back alone,
I, without a face,
it touched me.

Bambai

paani yahan bhi barasta hai
bahut barasta hai
fark...
wahan tehani se boondein tapakti thi
yahan imaraton me daraarein padti hai
us din sar pe suitcase rakh ke
kamar tak ke paani me tairte hue
ek chhoote sheher ki baarish yaad aa gayi

Sunday, January 31, 2010

And in this post I worry over details: Taking apart “Paa”

When I am done salivating over Ms Balan’s lovely saree(s) and houseful of curios, I wonder if chikan embroidery found a place in her or her mother’s (played by the fabulous Arundhati Nag) wardrobe. Living in Lucknow, you just cannot escape the grace of the delicate lines of jali, taipchi, bakhi or murri on cotton and chiffon. Ask me!

I also noticed in a blink and it is gone moment that the number plate on Dr. Vidya’s car was not embossed with the usual UP 32 but UP71 (needs to be checked). That was a blooper unless Ms Balan bought the car outside Lucknow.

Another contradiction that had my stiletto thin brow furrowed in thought was if Balan was studying in Oxford, why was her mother feeding and cooing over her at the family home in Lucknow? If Oxford was not running a long distance programme and Balan did apply to King George Medical College then I am surprised by the taken for granted “acceptance”, Ms Balan and her son get in the absence of the round and round thing. When did the Lucknow samaaj with a heart, as creepy and crawly as the stinky Gomti get so accommodating? I would have appreciated if Balan’s struggle to get social acceptance had been better documented than "bachhe ko akele paalne se aurat ka dil sakht ho jaata hai". Phew! Please remember that according to grapevine even the fiery Behenji has kept her progeny hidden somewhere.

And how could I not comment on Mr Bachhan (Jr) who flies in and out a la Rahul Gandhi. And you better watch out! Saying condom on camera is mocking the evolved pedigree of UP politicians when it comes to sex. Our dear leaders -whether the octogenarian sweating it out in a foursome down south or another one who had to give out a supaari after he forgot to use condom-are light years ahead of Amol Arte.

That said, I did like Auro and the man behind the character despite the feel good treatment his character was given. There is sensitivity and attitude to life that can only come with pain and isolation.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

After reading Steig Larrson's tri-series, this makes sense

Changing The Indian Intelligence Culture
R. Hariharan

[Vice President Hamid Ansari has recently spoken about the need for accountability and parliamentary oversight for Indian intelligence agencies.I have reproduced here the analysis of the Vice President's speech by seasoned expert on the subject B Raman written in his own inimitable style. As an old MI hand, my comments relating to Military Intellgence in the overall scheme of accountability of intelligence agencies would follow. - R Hariharan]

By B. Raman

In his R.N.Kao Memorial lecture delivered at the headquarters of the Research & Analysis Wing (R&AW) on January 19, 2010, Vice-President Hamid Ansari has done well in raising in public issues such as accountability and parliamentary oversight to which the Indian intelligence community is still a stranger.

2. The concept of an accountable and competent intelligence community, which uses the need for secrecy only for protecting its operations and not for covering up its inadequacies and irregularities, has been accepted and implemented by the intelligence agencies of many democracies----parliamentary as well as Presidential types--- of the world during the last three decades. Nobody in those countries has since argued that these concepts have come in the way of the effectiveness of the intelligence process and hence should be re-considered. The overall consensus is that these changes have proved beneficial and hence should be continued and, if necessary, further refined.

3. In India too, these issues have been raised from time to time since the State of Emergency imposed by Indira Gandhi in 1975-77, but follow-up action has been avoided either because of resistance from sections of the intelligence community or because of the reluctance of the political leadership to introduce any changes which might dilute the scope for political misuse of the intelligence machinery for partisan purposes or both.

4. Accountability of intelligence agencies demands, firstly, that they should have a legal existence and, secondly, that they should have a formal charter of their functions and responsibilities. Forty-two years after its formation in 1968, the R&AW still does not have a legal existence. It was set up by a brief executive order issued on behalf of Indira Gandhi in September 1968. Till today, this order has not been accorded parliamentary sanctity by having necessary legislation authorising its creation passed by the Parliament. No Government, which has held office since 1968, has considered it necessary to have an Act passed by the Parliament providing legal legitimacy to the R&AW. No one has raised the question as to how the various Governments have been incurring expenditure on the R&AW year after year without having its creation approved by the Parliament.

5. In the 1980s, when Indira Gandhi was the Prime Minister, a law was enacted by the Parliament banning strikes in the intelligence agencies. To my knowledge, that is the only Act of the Indian Parliament in which there is a reference to the R&AW by name. When that law was passed, nobody in the Parliament thought it fit to ask: What is this R&AW about? When was it created? Who created it? Has its creation been approved by the Parliament?

6. It goes to the credit of A.K.Verma, who headed the R&AW from 1987 to 90 that he took the initiative in drawing the attention of the Governments of Rajiv Gandhi and V.P.Singh to the fact that the R&AW had been functioning without a legal cover and a formal charter. He wanted the Government of the day to do something about it, but nothing was done.

7. The fact that the Intelligence Bureau, which was created by the British before 1947, and the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), which came into existence after 1947, had been functioning without formal charters of their functions and responsibilities, was highlighted by the L.P.Singh Committee, which was set up by the Morarji Desai Government to enquire into the functioning of these two organisations during the State of Emergency. It not only stressed the need for formal charters to prevent their future misuse, but also prepared for the consideration of the Government detailed model charters for adoption. No action was taken on its recommendations by the Indira Gandhi Government which came back to power in 1980 or its successors. The report was consigned to the Archives---seen, but not read and implemented.

8. Shri Atal Behari Vajpayee and Shri Lal Krishna Advani were among those who were in the forefront of those who criticised----- during the election campaign of 1977---- the alleged misuse of the intelligence agencies by the Indira Gandhi Government during the Emergency. When Shri Vajpayee became the Prime Minister and Shri Advani the Home Minister in 1998, one naturally expected them to take the initiative in taking the L.P.Singh Committee report out of the Archives and implement it. The expectations were belied.

9. The Task Force for the revamping of the intelligence apparatus set up by the Vajpayee Government in 2000, which was headed by Shri G.C. Saxena, former head of the R&AW, recommended the acceptance by the Government of the principle of formal charters for the intelligence agencies. To give greater meat to its recommendations, it wanted to have a look at the detailed charters for the IB and the CBI proposed by the L.P.Singh Committee. The Home Ministry, then headed by Shri Advani, avoided making available to the Task Force the entire report of the L.P.Singh Committee. However, the Task Force's recommendation for formal charters was accepted and implemented by the Vajpayee Government. One does not know whether the recommendations of the L.P.Singh Committee were taken into consideration while drafting the charters.

10. The credit for first raising the idea of a parliamentary oversight on the intelligence community should go to Shri Jaswant Singh, who was the Chairman of the Estimates Committee of the Rajya Sabha when Shri V.P.Singh was the Prime Minister. Shri V.P.Singh saw merit in the idea and wanted it to be examined. There was no opposition to the idea from the intelligence professionals then in service including this writer, but when Shri V.P.Singh developed differences with the BJP, he did not pursue it.

11. Since then, none of the political parties has shown interest in making the intelligence agencies accountable for their performance and integrity and in making their professional performance subject to an independent assessment. Secrecy is an important operational principle for an intelligence agency. Unless an intelligence agency is able to ensure the secrecy of its operations, no source or agent will stick his neck out to work for it. Its capability for collecting technical intelligence will also be affected.

12. But secrecy should not be allowed to be used as an excuse for covering inefficiencies in performance and irregularities in functioning and financial management. Irregularities do occur in matters such as the personnel policy and diversion of the resources sanctioned by the Government for operational objectives for non-operational purposes. The public and the Parliament have a right to know to what extent the agencies have been producing results and what are the areas of their non-performance. The Parliament has a right to know what kind of financial controls are in place, who exercises those controls and to what extent they are effective. The Parliament has similarly a right to check whether the principle of secrecy in recruitment is being misused to pack the organisations with unsuitable persons, taken not for their qualifications, but for their connections.

13. It is possible to introduce some of these checks and balances in the functioning of our intelligence community without damaging their operational secrecy. There is reluctance from the political class because it sees the agencies as instruments for partisan exploitation and not for defending national interests. There is reluctance from sections of the intelligence officers themselves because they think that unchecked secrecy gives them an aura of power and influence which they do not want to lose.

14. Ansaris may come and Ansaris may go, but the intelligence agencies will go on functioning in the same manner with the complicity of the political class unless there is sustained public pressure on the political class and the agencies to change the culture of our agencies. I am not very optimistic because I do not see on the horizon any political leader who is genuinely convinced of the need for a change.

15. Every country gets the intelligence community it deserves. We will continue to have the community which we have deserved unless Shri Ansari's call is followed up.

Courtesy: South Asia Analysis Group Paper no. 3616 dated 20-Jan-2010
URL: http://www.southasiaanalysis.org/%5Cpapers37%5Cpaper3616.html

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Invitation” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It dosen’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here
I want to know if you will still stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back

It dosen’t interest me where or with whom
you have studied
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
When all else falls away

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments

(Found it on Shekhar Kapur's blog)