Gitanjali & Addendum to "the Day After..."
My deepest apologies to anyone who looked at the blog in the last day or so… I did get those new pictures up, but I was clueless for how to shrink them down to normal size, my HTML knowledge being superficial, at best…
What I am, however, good at is Adobe Photoshop, so I just shrunk the images, so, fingers crossed, hopefully the page looks a little better now…
One note after getting the images done for real-- I did have to shrink them down using HTML, Lynn, do I hear, "Information Technology competency"????>
Anyhow, a few updates on the last post, “The Day After the Music Died” – The street I am staying on has actually, for a long time, been named after the actor—Dr. RajKumar Rd. The section of town, Rajajinagar, I quickly realized, was also in his namesake. All this making me feel more than slightly foolish for my initial reaction of “I don’t care if an actor is passing through!”
At least 6 people died in the riots, including one police officer. The number of vandalized busses was something like 175 I believe, between the two leading companies. His picture is hanging, garlanded, from many buildings in the area, and, as life picks up its pace again in Bangalore, I find myself second guessing my complaints against Filmy music being played loudly in public, not wanting to offend.
That’s all the gossip for now…
I’ve been reading a bit from Tagore’s Gitanjali (lit. “Songs of Offering”) each day and I’ve been meaning to share this one with everyone… sums up some of the harder times here :)
Rabindranath Tagore, for those who know about as much about Indian culture as I did not-too-long-ago was a 19th century Bengali (Eastern India) poet, philosopher, writer, saint and forgive-me-for-forgetting-any-other-hats. As I’ve been reading in Naipaul, he was connected with a movement that was giving value to Indian nationalism amongst Indian people, when before there was only identification with one’s immediate caste or social group, and definitely no strong nationalist bridges between the communities of India’s 30-some major languages. As John Keay or William Dalrymple (how’s that for an academic citation?) said about Tagore, to read his poetry in any languages is powerful, to read it in its original Bengali is stunning (a good omen for a cultural revivalist).
Anyway, this is the 14th poem in Gitanjali a la (my slight rewording of) my little Rabindra Rachanavali translation, I hope you all like it:
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful,
But you have always saved me with hard refusals;
This strong mercy has become part of my life,
Through and through.
Day by day, you are making me worthy
Of the simple, great gifts that you gave to me unasked—
This sky and the light, this body and this life and the mind—
Saving me from the perils of too much desire.
There are times when I languidly linger
And times when I awaken and hurry in search of my goal.
But cruelly, you hide yourself from me.
Day by day, you are making me worthy of your full acceptance
By refusing me again and again,Saving me from the perils of weak, uncertain desire.
What I am, however, good at is Adobe Photoshop, so I just shrunk the images, so, fingers crossed, hopefully the page looks a little better now…
One note after getting the images done for real-- I did have to shrink them down using HTML, Lynn, do I hear, "Information Technology competency"????>
Anyhow, a few updates on the last post, “The Day After the Music Died” – The street I am staying on has actually, for a long time, been named after the actor—Dr. RajKumar Rd. The section of town, Rajajinagar, I quickly realized, was also in his namesake. All this making me feel more than slightly foolish for my initial reaction of “I don’t care if an actor is passing through!”
At least 6 people died in the riots, including one police officer. The number of vandalized busses was something like 175 I believe, between the two leading companies. His picture is hanging, garlanded, from many buildings in the area, and, as life picks up its pace again in Bangalore, I find myself second guessing my complaints against Filmy music being played loudly in public, not wanting to offend.
That’s all the gossip for now…
I’ve been reading a bit from Tagore’s Gitanjali (lit. “Songs of Offering”) each day and I’ve been meaning to share this one with everyone… sums up some of the harder times here :)
Rabindranath Tagore, for those who know about as much about Indian culture as I did not-too-long-ago was a 19th century Bengali (Eastern India) poet, philosopher, writer, saint and forgive-me-for-forgetting-any-other-hats. As I’ve been reading in Naipaul, he was connected with a movement that was giving value to Indian nationalism amongst Indian people, when before there was only identification with one’s immediate caste or social group, and definitely no strong nationalist bridges between the communities of India’s 30-some major languages. As John Keay or William Dalrymple (how’s that for an academic citation?) said about Tagore, to read his poetry in any languages is powerful, to read it in its original Bengali is stunning (a good omen for a cultural revivalist).
Anyway, this is the 14th poem in Gitanjali a la (my slight rewording of) my little Rabindra Rachanavali translation, I hope you all like it:
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful,
But you have always saved me with hard refusals;
This strong mercy has become part of my life,
Through and through.
Day by day, you are making me worthy
Of the simple, great gifts that you gave to me unasked—
This sky and the light, this body and this life and the mind—
Saving me from the perils of too much desire.
There are times when I languidly linger
And times when I awaken and hurry in search of my goal.
But cruelly, you hide yourself from me.
Day by day, you are making me worthy of your full acceptance
By refusing me again and again,Saving me from the perils of weak, uncertain desire.
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1:58 AM
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