THE LAST LOVE LETTER OF TCHAIKOVSKY*

My angel,  life of my life
Fate would never allow me to meet thee
Only in thy letters to me
Do I feel the touch of love’s ecstasy.

Would but that upon thy sweet face
I would  just once behold
All my sixth symphonies I would gladly exchange
In love’s name and in its wondrous beauty untold.

Here with all my rapturous kisses
I send thee the music of ‘Love’s Sorrow’
Every note swims in the sea of my restless heart
None would such grievous pain of mine ever know.

Let history judge
All that is between thee and me
Even the deluge that drowns the whole world
Would never obliterate every melody I dedicate to thee.

• Tchaikovsky’s benefactress was Madame Von Meck  (Nadezhda) who exchanged 260 love- letters (1876—1887)with him and endowed him with a regular income on the understanding that they should never meet.
Her late  husband was a millionaire whose fortune was derived from  his railway business.
Finally, she broke up the relationship leaving the composer in complete  devastation.
This is one of the most poignant love-stories of all time.

But such people-
the mighty, the powerful
the rich, the pseudo- intellectual
the influential
are the most odious

what **** sapiens?
they are the mal-products
of evolution
who bring shame
to the human race
in their inhumanity

bullies
narcissists
items of assorted pathology
but they can't see-
' We are the authority
and can't do wrong'.

In the newspapers
they are the centre-piece
their pride oozes
from their every paw

but time brings down
even the mightiest
and such people end up
as discarded old newspapers
in the dust-bin of history
where they belong so appropriately.

We were
once upon a time--remember?
but no more
now is our time--forever

all because
tears we shed together
broken hearts once healed
re-love with the most resplendent grandeur.

If you do come to Australia
don't think just of the kangaroo--also the dugong
the koala, the platypus, the wombat and the Tasmanian Devil
and learn to sing Waltzing Matilda the nation's most-loved song

far superior to  Advance Australia Fair (believe me)
our uninspiring national anthem (most Aussies would agree)
and the lyrics were so badly
written-- no wonder Aussies could never sing the song properly

1

Why was it that Tarzan
only did one loincloth wear?
answer:  
there was no clothes-shop there

2

Do you know Tarzan had a terrible phobia?
if you must know---it lasted for a long while-
a strong swimmer he was but  devastated by this condition
as once he was nearly swallowed up by an 8-metre crocodile

3      Bringing home Cheeta the naughty little chimpanzee
         was the idea of Jane
         who said to Tarzan--we had enough of each other--
         without Cheeta we would go insane!

4    
        Why was it Tarzan and Jane
        didn't raise a family?
         they were fighting the animal-poachers
         all day long--too busy!

5
          Of course Tarzan and Jane
          lived together in the tree
          they needed no beds
          but were content and happy

Love is bereft ---abandoned by the heartless
    cry not, nor lament--none is around to listen
     sorrows of the broken heart
    are never assuaged by reason
    
   ..ah ! when would love
  its splendour once more  glisten?
  my pillow I #bite this sombre night
  in tears--I never knew love was such a prison.

I came, I saw
but I did not conquer
it wasn't my goal at the outset
to win a battle --only to wonder

what the whole wide world
to me held in store
I returned a little wiser
and am eager to venture out for more.

Maples in red and deep yellow
It's end of Australian autumn
Birds fly to warmer skies
Nights are sombre and solemn.

I look through the window
Waiting for your quick return--all I hear
Is but the faint rustling of leaves
And the wailing of the wind--where are you, my sweetest dear?

MY BOYHOOD DAYS
        Klang# then was a sleepy and backward town
      But ronggeng was the highlight of the night
      A dance with a lovely wanita** cost 30 cents
      It brought Malayan men's emotions to the supreme height.

      Mum said: study hard, ronggeng is for grown-up men
      Don't let me catch you  in the amusement park watching
      Immoral men dance with coy and seductive ronggeng girls
      Unless you want dad to give you a good beating!

PRISONERS
Men are born free
but everywhere are in chains
thus wrote Rousseau--I take the point further-
upon themselves they inflict pains

in being prisoners of time
which with a sword of Damocles hangs
over every head and herds them into closed barns
where they sigh and lament in silent pangs

of anguish with no hope to be free
they have lost the will to fight
to regain that which was once their heritage
and fundamental right

men are born free
but by the loss of freedom they are condemned
time is the slayer--would they wake up
some day and look upon time with contempt?

What have I planted today
but the seeds of words in my mind's garden?
would they germinate and grow
would they beautify?  and gladden

the heart in verse and song? I'll not fail you
  my love,  as it was you who gave me
the seeds with your white tender hands
which I kissed--your love I'll enshrine forever in my poetry.

I am in outer space
I am levitating
light as a feather
in another state of being

but I am no alien
( I am not dreaming)
I was born with a heart
I have every human feeling.

I touch the tips of stars
I sleep in the cradle of the moon
I dance with the clouds
to the music of the heavens I swoon.

Lighter, yet lighter I am getting
(I know I am not dreaming)
weightlessly I am drifting, flying
in space infinite--in a world without ending.

Those guys--the intellectuals-
are bashers----they are bashing
words, ideas and philosophy to death
with their endless quibbling and quarrelling

but for me an uneducated peasant
all that I know and need to know is farming--
planting,  sowing,  tendering, nurturing and harvesting
the sun rising and setting--for a good season is all I'm hoping.

1
Roses are asleep
under a calm autumn sky
night breezes drift by

2

Under the ocean
a hidden world of its own
beauty beyond words

3

Under the lamp-post
a woman anxiously waits
it is past midnight

4

Cyclist in the night
riding across a steep hill
no one is in sight

5

City bars are closed
the waiters are rushing home
it is two a.m

Nancy, do you remember me?
I was a member of the Dramatic Society
you played the part
of Juliet--you stole my heart.

I was not good enough to be Romeo
I wished that had been me--I know
that would have drawn me
close to you--now all I have is the beautiful memory

of you saying those words--so amorous and sweet
I dreamt since--had your eyes did mine meet
you would feel the love stirring within me
do you remember Shelley's 'Love's Philosophy?'

Your home address I got from your brother
he knows me like none other
he will testify to my high morals and impeccable character
my mobile is .....I would really love to meet you and chatter.

signed:
One who adores you but is shy and lacks the courage to approach you-forgive me for writing this.
I am Arthur

Santa Claus is in deep financial trouble-verily-
He had spent too much on kids in the past
To save himself from bankruptcy
He has set up Santa Claus  (Universal )Trust.

Every kid shall contribute $1 annually
(Before Christmas Eve) to this 'most worthy charity'
His email to the kids ends with these words: 'Trust me-
I am a person of the utmost integrity'.

There are those who are more enamoured
of dreams than reality
wherein lie their secret longings
cradled in imagination and fantasy--

to be in love with someone they had never met
to surrender to a face, a smile, a kiss,  a moment of ecstasy
beyond the pale of insipid daily living--
far transcending every earthly beauty.

Come to my dreams
(as you would not speak to me)
chide me then to your heart's content, say the worst
as though I were your  sworn enemy.

Come to my dreams
and declare: ' I never loved you--it's your fancy
remove me forever
from your memory'.

Come to  my dreams
I'll show you the scented letters you once sent me:
'  You've filled my heart with such joy
You are my ecstasy'.

Come to my dreams
Let me show you the photos of you and me
at the back of which you wrote:
' Our love is meant for eternity'.

Faces in the crowd
among which I am one
each heart silently bears its joys and sorrows
the business of living is never done

as we have to wake up everyday
with the never-failing rising sun
(even the weakest, frailest and most sickly)
though the day's prospects are grim and life isn't fun.

Holding on, clinging on
dangling in the limbo
of survival and existence
what the future holds none really does know.

Faces in the crowd
passing and fading images--I know no one-
yet I feel their pulses as I, mine--- murmurs
of existential* angst---until life's sad drama is done.

PRUDENCE

I paused and took a step back
I looked around and was unsure
' You're a coward ' my critics chided
I replied: ' For folly there's no cure'.

Prudence has taught me
Life's prizes and trophies are never easy to secure
I've seen so many mighty giants fall by the roadside-
They were too arrogant and too cocksure.

I CAN’T LOOK BACK EVER

I've taken this route
I can't look back ever
my footprints have disappeared
rain-washed and sun-burnt away--never

will my life
be the same again
though dim the horizon
and I walk in pain.

I can't look back
I won't  regret,  I won't look back
though the journey knows no end
and there's no food or drink in my knapsack.

Ah, via dolorosa
which traveller is without a tear ?
but I won't look back
I'll still venture forward alone--I know no fear.

The wilderness
is home to me--this oblivion I have chosen
it's no man's station
but I need no conversation

have heard every spoken human word
till no more could I bear
ah, the soothing balm of silence
in emptiness there's no earthly care

This is the tapestry of my soul
sewed in  sweat, trials and tears
each stitch a reminder of the vanished past when every episode
stood as a testament of life's most tempestuous years

but  I've resurrected from the ruins
of time and every scene I survey  now with serenity
even in the darkest of night
the brightest of light illuminates from my treasured tapestry.

FRAGILITY

How fragile is the rose
how brittle the wings of the butterfly
it's sad but true
how soon beauty does fade and die

How tender is our love
every moment that does come by
we strengthen and edify
true love knows no fragility--it's eternal like the sky

In transit
(in parenthesis--you've not arrived)
waiting time this is
it's as though
time is arbitrarily suspended
and frozen
no forward movement
until the journey is resumed

'in transit'
the hardest test
of patience
whoever you are-
it applies to all--
no exception

and you can't exit
the gate is closed to you
there's nothing you can do

a time for unwelcome reflection
what were you yesterday?
what did you used to be?

what would you be
after transit time?

if
if only
you could grasp
that life is all about
being in transit
with you held in check
with untold possibilities
for change and acceptance
you would rise in triumph
from the ruins of your unhappy past-
a resurrected being
who has mastery over your life
and be thankful
for being kept in transit

only those
who can wait
will be the victors
and will never regret
for being kept in transit.

1

The animals in the jungle ran away
when Tarzan appeared on the scene
it wasn't that he was stronger but rather
those four-legged creatures thought his semi-nakedness was obscene.

2
Food was scarce in a certain season
Tarzan went into a rage as Cheeta wanted all
he took his knife aimed at the cheeky chimp
and said:  this shall cause your downfall!

3

Tarzan and Jane-whatever you think-
were human and must yield to passion
their shelter in the tree shook every night
but the animals paid no attention

4

Jane loved to play with Cheeta
Tarzan liked to swing from tree to tree
since Cheeta's arrival their relationship suffered badly
as he turned green with envy

5
   Tarzan asked Jane where Hollywood was
   She replied: ' I worry about your failing memory
   Holy Wood is the jungle- habitat of your cousin Zantar
   his wife is Nancy--we once spent Christmas at their home named Ever-Free'.

No, I am not a legislator
of the world*
only a voice
a tiny voice
( vox clamantis in deserto)
but the winds
shall carry the words I write
and scatter them
over faraway fields
mountains and seas
wherever destiny bids

somewhere
somehow
someone would get to know me

just words
words drawn
from the blood of my heart
words I have lived with all my life
and loved like the most passionate lover
words that have made me stronger
than I could ever  have imagined
words that have made me cry

they began so innocently
and I toyed with them
one by one
syllable by syllable
phrase by phrase
sentence by sentence

eureka!
I  have discovered
words are alive
they give meaning
to all that is in life
and above all
they define what I am
and have given me
the building-blocks
of
what is
what is not
what should be
what should not be
how to
how not to
to be
or not to be

the jigsaw puzzle
pieces are coming together
and a clear picture is emerging
( a long drawn-out process
but how rewarding!)

Words I no longer could leave behind
and they would not want to release me
then the day came
when I realised
I became words personified

no, I am not just flesh and blood
any more
think of me then
as nothing else
but words
just words

Whoever or wherever you are
should you look at the stars with their faint but self-assured light
know that somewhere in a far corner of earth
there's this weary old man who walks alone at night

heaving a long unrelieved sigh
for mankind's irredeemable plight
for demise of kindness and humanity
for untold sorrows of millions as nations fight

proclaiming:' Dulcis pro patria mori
the clamour roars and deafens in hateful might
never mind if civilians are sacrificed
we are on the side of right'.

How serene and content are the stars
nestled in the tender cradle of night
while we poor mortals *****
in self-destructive darkness---with no real hope of seeing the light.

1

Because I was born into poverty
I learnt some of life's most valuable lessons

2

Because I don't over-rate my skills
I suffer from few disappointments

3

Because I could not flatter nor compromise
some people kept away from me

4

Because I recognise the ways of the world
I am not easily fazed

5

Because I know life is too short
I don't fritter time away in idle indulgence

Even the weakest among us
will somehow survive
strength even thin as a straw is not to be scoffed at
it builds up to a critical mass with time--- to strive

and not to yield transforms
the most ordinary men into heroes
though unknown they thrive
and stand up to life's loneliest sorrows--

the strong have been too complacent
self-indulgence has weakened their spirit
they struggle to hold their own but sadly
they have lost their vigour and wit--

man is not born to despair
whatever the adversity be
amidst the ruins and misery
he rebuilds and triumphs in his fullest nobility.

I've drawn down the curtains
on the window of the past
shadows will no longer linger
in my life--- now that I place all my trust

in being oblivious to all scenes of old
people I met, hurts I suffered, pain endured---let all of this rust
away in my new-found freedom
I can escape from self-inflicted sorrow only if I don't live in the past.

BEYOND THE RAINBOW OF OUR DREAMS

         Beyond the rainbow of our dreams
         we'll build our home and together share
         the light of the moon and stars
         fly among the clouds as a pair
        
         of love-birds carefree and oblivious
         to time--the holiness of the heart's affection
         the whole universe encompasses
         love is truly ceaseless adoration
        
         guided by faith that serves only to strengthen
         this sacred bond to which we are sworn
         no longer shall we be earth-bound
         but to a celestial life reborn

         behind the veil of time abides
         love's sweetest mystery
         beyond the rainbow of our dreams
         sublime beauty belongs only to you and me.

I walked back to the past
and it stared at me
who are you? why did you visit here?
are you invited?--speak honestly

Don't you remember me?
I was the mischievous lad
who used to play tricks on you
at your compound?--you called me 'notoriously bad'

How presumptuous you are
billions of kids had been here before
there was nothing special about you
don't you knock on my door any more

It would do you mighty good
if you don't return again--persona non grata-
you are no longer the kid you were
and your company I desire not--stay away, stay away far!

This is the road we must part
there's no need to say goodbye
neither you nor I

This is the road we must part
there should be no regret
our past we will forget

This is the road we must part
never again to dream
love was not what it did seem

This is the road we must part
our hearts have reasons we don't know
let nothing be said--let things be so

This is the road we must part
only this we need to know
all love is sorrow

This is the road we must part
here never again shall we pass by
just walk away silently---for love lost you should not cry.

Who is to say-
old age is wisdom?
rather it's an
unknown kingdom.

The older I get
the less I know for sure
life is a mysterious continent
to live is to struggle, to explore and to endure.

Certitude, what certitude?
wisdom, what wisdom?
human intelligence is finite
the mind that's fixed on certitude is serfdom.

In the beginning  nothing I knew
and at the end--still nothing
nay,  old age is doubts and the
beginning of learning.

No wonder so many are unhappy
Their lives are predicated on pluses
Pluses= happiness
Unhappiness comes from minuses.

All this they hanker after:
Pluses in wealth, power , position
Fame, recognition- even pluses in good looks
And wisdom--anything less is no consolation.

More acquisitions---the goal of life
(Pity those who live in minuses)
All the time they strive and strive
Chasing like addicts for the next round of seductive pluses.

Shouldn't they change their mind-set?
Surely minuses are to be more desired and embraced
Minus ill health,  minus greed, minus envy, minus discord
Minus strife, minus discontent--aren't pluses sadly misplaced?

You can no longer knock at the door
of your paradise lost
bliss you forfeited
now you are tossed

into the oblivion
of limbo
there's no light to lead you
and you don't know where to go.

Here is the abyss
of the darkest of the dark
worse than the ship-wrecked
not even the weakest spark

of hope will appear to console
none will hear your lament
banished from the golden land
in this wretched pit all your years will be spent.

Too long have I lived
in the wilderness
I find it hard now to speak
the human tongue
nay, even basic words
I've forgotten

the winds and the trees
the moon and the stars
the clouds and the night
the dust blown in the air
even shadows and silhouettes
they've given me a new vocabulary
I am an exile
in another trajectory
but I've chosen this as my home
and am free
and how could one be happy
amidst noisy crowds
in so-called civilised society?

In losing myself
I've at last
found my true identity

Too many poets died unhappy
they took their poetry too seriously.

1
Sigmund Freud's sexuality theory--
not everyone could agree with or applaud
some critics wrote derisively :
'His name should have been spelt Sickman Fraud'.

2

Freud was fixated on ***
that constituted an obsession
did he become so
due to his own repression?

3

Freud: Religion is like childhood neurosis
a statement too brash and bold
if there were a heaven
he would be left out in the cold.

4
Freud's home was full of antiques of all types
was he a compulsive hoarder?
how should he label himself?
can we say  his mind was in complete order?

5
If you could understand
Freud's theories on id, ego, super-ego
you would get closer  to being a shrink
some say--that's all you need to know.

Time doesn't exist
but for mankind's presence
it's amoral, heartless and nonchalant
though it doesn't utter a single sentence.

Wielding a whip over everyone's head
like a cattle-drover
none would it leave alone
it's a bully and a dictator.

The day is bleeding
men and women are in frenzy
work must be done--deals must go through-
everyone needs the money

too eager to push a competitor down
it's survival of the fittest
it's a jungle out there
pity the weakest.

Many would be the day's losers
hopes will be dashed,  tears will flow
hearts will be broken,  promises unfulfilled
that's the way the world does go.

This is the bleeding of day
and a heavy toll it has taken on so many
the evening and night offer little rest or comfort
while time is watching without the slightest sympathy.

A BETTER RESURRECTION

I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.
(Book: The Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath)


Coda of mine:

Is there light after the darkness
if so, how would we know?
we mortals are born to suffer alone
in life's stormy and unfriendly waters wherever we go

but the spirit of man
is larger than man---in suffering he will grow
(purified by a better resurrection)
and richer seeds of wisdom he will surely sow.

Life-
the common river
but each sails alone
with none other

Life-
so many regard as the sorrowful river
it flows to the endless sea
to its past it returns never

Life-
isn't it an unknown river?
every life is ****** upon it
'why'?  one does wonder.

Life--
blessed if you find it a river
of splendour---harness then all your resources-
thus self-assured---you would never fall over.

The flute is mute
it's half-broken
the flautist leaves it alone
old age has spoken

once he was the pride
of the musical world--he brought tears
to his listeners - now in the silence
of his sick-bed--he wants to forget all his past years

Girl
means what boy is not--she has what he doesn't have--she is more patient and intuitive--she can deliver babies when she's old enough to marry--
she will then be the centre of the home and bring the kids every joy through her love and dedication (the boy is then the father who just watches on and says: Yes, very nice, very good,  we are a happy family'--
where would you and I be if we had no mothers who were once the sweetest and prettiest girls?

Reason walks half the way
and complains: 'I'm weary'
it asks the heart-
I don't know why,  please tell me'

The heart is quick to reply:
'  You don't know
  why you are taking this journey
  as for me--my dream I faithfully follow'

Everyone is a wanderer
so few find their hearts' desire
the winds their fury unleash
the sun burns like wild fire.

There's no resting place
only slippery rocks, sharp ascents and mire
but there's no turning back
though the prospect is dire.

There's no food or water
for the hungry and thirsty wanderer
the night sky palely looks from asunder
the stars are weary and lose their glitter.

Everyone is a wanderer
destiny is the driver
but none wants to be a loser
this defines him in his perilous splendour.

I ain't sweet
I can be real bad
I pull my dog's ears
when I'm not glad

I kick the pebble back from school
hoping it would land on someone's head
I don't like our form teacher Miss Carey's ugly nose
I'm a monster many teachers dread.

I can't say to life:
This or that I choose
it has no heart nor tears
it has no duty to give or refuse

and I stand alone
as events come and go
each without question I accept
with the unknown tide I  quietly follow.

Why am I looking at this drawer
  and am afraid of its contents?
  over 60  love-letters of long ago
  which I could repeat almost by heart
  ( I kept every envelope as well-
    time, date received, year written thereon
   in my best hand
   as though they were worth more than diamonds)
  several containing crushed roses
  a few poems of Robert Browning
  Keats, Byron, sonnets of Shakespeare
  Yeats,  Donne, Thomas Hardy, John Clare..
  every letter a reminder
  of youth's once tender kisses
   solemn vows
  and secret words exchanged
  that could never be shared
  with anyone
  (love is too personal-
   a sacred pledge of hearts
   never to be broken)

    vanished are the dreams of youth
   I am old and weary now

    no longer the proud lover
    but a cynic
    no longer a believer
   in the glory of love-poems
  and stories of romance
  (yes---love is not a fairy-tale
   and all love stories should end
   with this sentence:
  ...and they lived with regret and sorrow thereafter...)

    words are just words
spoken at convenience
for the sake of the speaker
words are selfish
though the speaker knows not

she wrote and spoke more poignantly
than I ever could
she was mistress of words
she wrote as though
she was consumed by the fire of love
and would die in  its burning furnace
for my sake
all for my sake
' I would die for love
and for you, dearest
for you are my life
the very air I breathe...'

(I wept then as those words I read-
I memorised every word )

   Is love but sweet words
  to be forgotten ?
  
  I shouldn't open the drawer
  lest I begin to attribute blame
je deteste?  deja vu? chagrin d'mour?

I was about to stretch out
my hand ...
but my faithful wife called
from the kitchen
' why are you lingering in your study?
  darling, dinner is ready--your favourite chicken curry!'