Last night I went out and celebrated sadness. We celebrate joy but we don't celebrate sadness given that perhaps sadness is a much more authentic emotion we feel. One can fake happiness but rarely can one fake or would want to fake sadness.

It was a Sitar concert, Hindustani classical music. A few raagas that were played are, Raag Shaam Kalyan,Jihnjhoti, Ameer and Misra Pilu. It was an ecstatic experience, a journey to the roots, which defines who I am. Given the inherently turbulent and confusing times I had been going through, such a journey was very welcome. And now I sit here listening to Mirza Ghalib, the unrivalled master of Ghazal.

The ghazal goes something like this:

dil-e-naadaaN tujhe huaa kya hai ? aaKHir is dard kee dawa kya hai

O unbelmished heart, what has happened to you? And what is the medicine for this ache?

hamko unse wafa ki hai ummeed jo naheeN jaante wafa kya hai

Fidelity, I had expected from her, one who doesn't know what fidelity means.

ham haiN mushtaaq aur woh bezaar ya ilaahee ! yeh maajra kya hai?

(mushtaaq = interested, bezaar = displeased/sick of)

I am interested and she is displeased! O God! why these dilemas of the heart?

jab ki tujh bin naheeN koee maujood fir ye hangaama, 'ei KHuda ! kya hai

And given that there was none but her, then all this turmoil, O God, why?

dil-e-naadaaN tujhe huaa kya hai ? aaKHir is dard kee dawa kya hai

O unbelmished heart, what has happened to you? And what is the medicine for this ache?

Joy! Sashi

Simple and extraordinary wall. Wall without weight and without color: a hint of air in the air.

From a hillside, birds pass, light passes like a swing, the edge of winter passes like a breawth of summer. A leafy wind and embodied shadows pass.

But a sigh does not break bounds, arms do not meet, and no heart-to-heart is made flesh.

I've filled the raft with little puffs of breath, just enough so I can float.

If my soul had limits so I could blow into it I wouldn't need the raft.