wat a script! watch Delhi 6 if u have some grey matter.God knows how can people miss such movies as this and as gulaal.Movies like WANTED r such a waste of time till the intermission.Save the cute looks of Aysha and after the interval wen the twist takes the patriotic breath away.how can movies like this be ignored.Tata tea piyo ya kuch karo.Jago india jago.akes the patriotic breath way.How can some movies be ignored.Tata tea piyo ya kuch karo-jago india jago!Wish I also wake up and do sth.akes the patriotic breath way.How can some movies be ignored.Tata tea piyo ya kuch karo-jago india jago!Wish I also wake up and do sth.akes the patriotic breath way.How can some movies be ignored.Tata tea piyo ya kuch karo-jago india jago!Wish I also wake up and do sth.
A death of a martyr wud be a death or I go to hell! Well even if I get a husband wid such a fire like in that character,I'd present myself to any suffering and call it martydom in a Indian style!Point is neither m fast to get it realised myself nor the one hu gets me is fast to find me.Sad me(lol)!!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
(This picture is of a greek goddess-I am not an extreme feminist but I have expressed the emotions of an otptimist self in an unrequited love with the help of allusions from literature)
Vocabulory-Venus symbolises beauty, Keats wrote a poem called-La Belle Dame Sans Merci(means a merciless girl), T.S Eliot wrote a poem-Hollow man(represents a man devoid of feelings as he was utterly disapponited by the world war), Billet doux means love letters, Beatrice symbolises beauty and divine inspiration in the accounts by a famous European poet Dante, Renaissance is revival of learning or rebirth,nemesis here means punishment of something wrong done in the past,progeny is the future generation.
"The lovesong reiterated"
He was handsome and huge.
His eyes were dark and dull.
But his spirit was bold and bright.
He called my name-
I felt shy;
He knew my secret and liked my lie.
Methought,he was the best man.
He thought I was Venus.
It all began since then.
Like a house on fire;
the confabulation was inspired.
But we were imagining each other.
My words to his ears,
his words to mine-
Went unheard for the nature had to conspire.
A matter of seven dates-
a dream of seven births together.
Followed a realization of a chasm about seven-oceans-between us.
It left me bereft.
It must have affected him too.
To understand,what we could not-was not a matter of billet-doux.
The story changed-
I became afraid of him.
And he got busy.
Up next was a mysterious valley-
full of sorrow
He saw a simple country folk in me-
incompetent,rustic and unworthy of gallantry.
I saw a prig in him considering his prejudiced symphony.
I have no complaints.
I have no regrets.
Nemesis of past of dumping lovers -naive and sane.
It was as welcome as it was not.
It puzzled a great deal.
To each other's ambitious self, we broke-up unannouned.
In this age of quick-reality;
in the times of quick-decison,
Falling out is not a matter of emotional consideration.
Feelings are called vague.
Philosophy is misleading.
And love is a thing of past.
I know now the sin of immitating-
Keat's La Belle Dame Sans Merci!
I apologise misdemeanour!
We still dream.
May be still like each other.
But we are indelibly silent.
We our content and yet we are not.
We are too preoccupied to think about it.
We have inurred ourselves to it.
We don't feel,
as we breathe.
We the generation of Eliot's Hollow Man.
I wish to rewite it again.
I long for a Renaissance.
I see it's imminent.
We want to feel
as we breathe.
Our progeny shall not have seeds of such strain.
It's not about me or him.
It's not about just both of us.
It's about he,you and me and the whole world.
Though to each other's imagined self,
yet I continue to be in love;
and may be, so does he.
That day I will edit it,
with a sigh of relief-
I will keep it brief.
He is handsome and huge-
my perfect refuge.
His eyes are dark and dull-
They reflect only his dream girl.
And his spirit that's bold and bright-
Hold me tight.
He calls my name yet again and again.
And then again I feel shy at twenty or sixty five.
He knows my secrets and likes my lies.
Methink he is my god on earth.
He thinks I am his Beatrice.
And it all begins once again!