Wednesday, October 31, 2012

A poem for dearest Malala




 Books are gift from dream land

When the soul dance
it doesn’t ask a thing.  
Sky is the roof
world our home.
In the periphery of eternal,
learning dwells in little steps of hope.
Words weave their magic
into pages of questions
that we quarry for answer.
And so we live infallible
in the shadow of faith
so we live forever…    



Blogs are published works

…someone the other day said “…but you haven’t published?”  I beg to differ. Publishers don’t decide who should be published and how to sell.  They no longer set the bench mark nor are they arbitrators on quality and content. I may be ignored. I may be unacknowledged. But I exist and exist in all my ferocity. Thanks to this medium, this space. I for a moment am also thinking of millions of brilliant lives passed by over the years, over the centuries …being denied a space. That is the civilizational loss I was talking about. It’s a collective loss that haunts this society.
 
We live in exciting times, and this is beginning of new history. These are times of common people; the access through social media has made it a tremendous world. I am so happy to be here when the history is unfolding into a world that is egalitarian, atleast in the assimilation/dispersal of views. Idea of self worth is amazing motivation. Though one must add that in India entrenched groups run the show (its quite difficult to trespass the family&friends&their Charter Accountant coterie!!)…but then the wonder is that social media is boundary less. Arab spring was initiated by people on the street using social media. It is happening all around us in increasing regularity. Malala too is a blogger….

So when we blog, we are putting our views on public platform and that is publishing. All the blogs are published work. The onus is on people who want to get connected and create a better world…