Reincarnation..

It’s a Day, a day again.. The silent wind besides the window whispers in my ears, "Wake Up...” There is something mystic in the morning air!! There always is... The sun rises in front of my window... Sheer beauty I witness everyday rising from behind the hillock. And within moments my room shines in gold!! The sparkle of the guitar strings blinds me almost. Left wondering am I about everything!! Oh it’s an Eldorado my room, it really is!! This is where I stand now, this is where I am, this is my new Home, My new life!! I Am Reincarnated... I miss my dear ones far away. Music here is life, life here is music!! Fortunate am I, writing this; pondering and gleaming deep into my thoughts, wondering what it would have been if it was not this way? But it is, and yes it is!! The wind whispers again, “You’ve got to study buddy!!” And so I’ve got to study... Damn it!! Why is the wind always right?? Cheers... To A New Life, A New Beginning...

- 7:45 am, 20th December 2009

But For Being Lost...

As black imbued black, so was rendered the pitch of darkness
That befogged this godforsaken yard of graves -
And too the dank, ‘til now forgotten chapel that
Did little to grace these forlorn grounds.

Yet here stood I, seemingly first to tread this weed-ridden soil
Since times of yore when life had erstwhile blessed this land.
But for being lost in solitude - as does a country wanderer -
Would I not have happened across this morbid landscape.

And though detail rendered barely visible to my naked eye –
For desperately had the moon tried to break through this jet fog –
A sense of something suffused the place.
Was it those tormented spirits desperate for absolution,
Or perhaps the gargoyles teasing me on whether they be of stone or living flesh?

I was drawn to the oak door as it enticingly opened in passage for me.
The organ called from down the nave and through the pale orange of unsteady light
- that which could only be mustered from the few discoloured, moribund candles.
Could I also hear a distant choir of stern voices, as if in effort to scold me?

As I approached, those tarnished pipes came into view.
Standing erect with gothic pride, they bore down on me with patronising air -
Exaggerated by the disjointed sneering of minor chords,
As if to state that insignificant I had henceforth no grant of solace.

In answer, I steadied my rocking legs and racing mind to wonder of this scenario.
And in doing so, I found myself waking from a cramped dream –
Whence the message dawned: mine had been such a claustrophobic life....

~Mark Slaughter...

Finding Myself In This Guitar

This is not my own.. but still it feels so mine... so real and so true... and i feel i connect with it with an eternal bond!! For which i have this piece of work here... so that i can have it forever...

Theres blood running down my fingers
From the strings of this guitar
Tears stain it's polished wood
As I'm trying to find myself in the stars
Looking out this window
With my guitar in my hands
I cradle it close to my heart
Because it is the sole thing that understands
It never asks me why
Never wants me to explain
It simply accepts the strumming
That is the symphony of my pain
My guitar has seen the secrets
No one else will ever see
But no matter what it knows
It doesn't turn away from me
These strings cut my thumb and fingers
Bidding them to bleed
But the blood and pain is worth it
For the few hours that I am free
Living in my music
Sheltered in the sound
It holds me in its tight embrace
And picks me up after I hit the ground
I see no greater compassion
Nothing more heart warming has come thus far
As the boundless love and devotion
I get from this guitar
My companion and my confidante
The angel that helps me by
The best comfort there can be
From something that can't wipe the tears from my eyes
I've felt nothing so intense
As long as I have lived
Than when my fingers intertwine with the strings
And we pour out all the love we can give
My heart may be bleeding and broken
But this guitar will find the glue
To put it back together the way it was
Before our song is through
And as I'm looking out this window
Unable to find myself in the stars
I look at the instrument in my hands
And realize that I have found myself in this guitar...

~Tatianna Rei Moonshadow

The Downfall - Electronic Media In India!!

THE Electronic Media in India is still at a nascent stage. Only television has made some headway in this field while radio is still many steps behind. With 360 television channels in the country and 160 more awaiting government approval, viewers are spoilt for choice. In the past five years, news channels have been criticised for their content, their style of presentation, coverage and sensationalising the news. Television is the quickest medium in terms of news reporting and coverage, only rivalled by the internet. Even there, owing to its audio-visual nature, television has an upper hand as it is the first medium we rely on for any kind of news coverage. This makes it a crucial part of the media industry. Speed is not an issue for these channels. However, accuracy is. News channels have come under severe criticism for their lack of professionalism in news reporting and coverage. The news shown is often exaggerated, worthless (at times) and sometimes even incorrect.

Case in point - the recent coverage of the 26 November attacks on Mumbai. Through the first few hours of the coverage of the attacks, every news channel was following the attacks and reporters were doing a commendable job standing outside the places that were attacked and even ducking bullets in the process. But what was not acceptable was the incorrect information that they were passing onto people. An anchor of one of the news channels repeatedly said that there had been attacks at the Metro hospital. The anchor either got the wrong information or had confused Metro Cinema with Cama Hospital (which were indeed under attack) and said Metro Hospital. This could have triggered off a a panic situation if Metro Hospital were in the vicinity of the attacks. The channel later corrected itself but did not apologise for it.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. The next day’s coverage and that of the day after looked like an exercise from the media handbook of ‘What not to do in conflict coverage’. The number of terrorists was proclaimed to be 25 at one point, CST station was again attacked, victims were made to go through third degree question-answer sessions almost immediately after they had been rescued. The electronic media behaved in an irresponsible manner during the coverage. There were some who did good work but the number of mistakes overshadowed their efforts.

This was just one example. There are scores of such cases that can be debated upon like that of Prabhakaran’s body being shown after his death and the Arushi murder case. There are even channels which specialise in 'Doom Reporting' where they talk about the end of world happening soon and all sorts of rubbish. In the end, it is the viewer who suffers. He is the one who is being made a fool. A viewer is only as smart as the content he watches. And if this is the content that is available today on news channels, then can we really blame them for watching channels like India TV?

The main question that the electronic media needs to ask itself is where to draw the line between what is essential and needs to be covered and what is covered for the sake of TRPs and eyeballs. In the race to number one slot and TRP Ratings, television channels are forgetting their duties and the fact that they are answerable not just to the industry but also the entire nation. Editors in TV channels need to be a little bit more involved in the news reporting process than they are at present. It is very clear from the kind of coverage that we see today that there is no higher authority who governs the entire process. They must remember that "The news comes first and the news alone should be their priority."

AfterMath....


When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew the path;
With the falling of the snow,
With the cawing of the crow,
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath.


Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowen mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom.

~H.W. Longfellow