Kaivalya

Poesy, my deepest and truest love My ardent passion that I place above Every thing else of my mortal life!! Wish I could probably make you my wife If you were a lady, I would love and wed. Decorate on every night my cozy bed With flowers and light candles around it To cause your white body's every bit Shine with more lustre than that Sun. "If ever, by God, I truly loved someone 'Tis no other woman, nymph, belle or dame", Thus I would swear by the holiest name Of Apollo the nurturer of the Muses nine, "It is but you, for me the most divine." Siddartha Pamulaparty December 29, 2006.

in awe i sing of that great kingdom where the mighty Atlas had reigned the home of mighty peaks and hills the home of placid lakes and noisy rivulets. perhaps the island of that older times where temples, gods and heroes lived is the best example of true love that the august Poseidon garnered for the mere mortal lady Cleito and in that love was born the harmony of the whole humankind of today's world. Siddartha Pamulaparty December 29, 2006.

http://www.minibite.com/oldies/dreamlover.htm dreams of my lover i dream in every dream and like a sunflower i wake to the solar beam the sun is just as bright as is my lover's radiance perhaps a little less in light than her solemn lustrous glance dreams of my lover i dream in every dream in shame my face i cover (very strange as it may seem) when some one knowing her or not call out her sweetest name and hence i become caught in the midst of a feeling of shame dreams of my lover i dream in every dream and crazily i tend to hover in her thoughts, a perennial stream i perhaps cannot ever come back to my natural disposition and wonder what does my own love lack that my lover has become an apparition. dreams of my lover i will always dream and sing of her forever and her sweet names i scream dreams of my lover forever i will dream though she did never of me had seen a dream. Siddartha Pamulaparty December 29, 2006.

why still my heart keeps beating for you? why still my restless eyes search for you? why, again, I think of you inside myself and wonder who wrote this plot so cruel? aren't there better works for me to do than to contemplate upon my crazy past? had i wanted to cry, i could not do so had i screamed as i wanted very desperately to no matter what i do or think of doing its the same image of yours becoming the sole object of my concern every day and every night, though i tried hard as i may to accept the fact that you do not love me but, think and feel, to my own self I say that as much true that you do not love me does equally hold true, my own love for you which does not die by the ending days or the nights not even by the ever changing seasons of the Sun and in despair, i cry out that for whom i care: you were, you are and you will be the one. Siddartha Pamulaparty December 29, 2006.

I had read about Poe earlier that he used to write many things in puzzles. He was a great cryptographer I think. I stumbled across one of his "puzzling" poem. And based on the same puzzle, I wrote my own poem. Of course I could not reproduce the genius of Poe here. Here is the original link of Poe's "The Valentine". http://www.eapoe.org/works/poems/valentnd.htm And here is mine. So thought I that we will be together; Have done I what pray ask me not Captive in golden cage of your love I can not tell now what went further (Even against my own self I fought). I felt vulnerable like the petals of a rose: Did not again, I tell you oh dear one That forsaken I, my own pride for you? Did I not say while we walked on the road, Strange language I spoke about love (was it sweet to hear?) As your eyes twinkled like the Sirius in the sky that night. May be I could perhaps dream of you forever Thus reasoned aptly I, when we had parted. Yet each time I, enamored with your mem

The three things that are extremely difficult to define yet so obvious. I believe not many really know the meaning of any of these. I, myself, am not sure either... But if one observes with some pondering and a little contemplation, one will know that these are everywhere around us, and we come across them almost at every moment. While a profound thinker might give some complex definitions of them, a true analysis will show how simple these may seem to be. Let me scribble here what I feel about each of these and try to collate the basic essence of these three things and investigate the connections amongst them. Art: Many people have defined art in many different ways. The term "artist" has itself been defined in many funny ways. According to the ancient wisdom of my country, there are 64 kinds of arts. In general circulation of the civilization, the perception of art is that of a medium of expression, imagination and creation. In an earlier essay of mine, I wrote about what S

i will wait here for a little longer till this feeling grows more stronger till these meadows filled up with snow wear back their garments much so greener till these dry trees, strained in the cold winter clad again the graceful flowers in their bosoms till the golden rays of the valorous Sun reach every corner of this murky world till the autumn no more fells the woods till the spring brings back everything to life whence the cascades of pure water flow into the rivers and finally consummate in the mighty ocean which reflects peace. i will wait here for a little longer till this feeling grows more stronger till the world before me is no more scarce of happiness and love and truth till the brothers in the neighborhood have mirth and heed for their fellow youths till the men and women i see around me progress toward the enlightenment seeking no greedy wealth or evil sins instead walking for causes noble of spreading love and brotherhood amongst us no matter what's the color of our s

there's a pain inside my heart i think again what was wrong on my part there's an ache inside my chest i need a break i am tired, always giving my best time and time the tides have come to shake my faith and take my home time and time the tides have come to shake my faith and take my home no matter how real hard they try i am a man, and i don't cry..... i am a man, and i don't cry..... there's a cut inside my flesh i am fainting but, in my mind those memories are still fresh there's a hurt inside my nerves finding it so curt the way my life is on the downward curves time and time the tides have come to shake my faith and take my home time and time the tides have come to shake my faith and take my home no matter how real hard they try i am a man, and i don't cry.... i am a man, and i don't cry..... i don't cry, i don't cry even if i lost my lover i don't cry, i don't cry though i know i am a wilted flower i don't cry, i don't cry i

As I walk past the Michigan Avenue I still can't stop thinking of you Here and there a pretty face I see But I know that thing is not for me I hear some Blues when I cross the road A different tune, while I am feeling bored When I start to believe there's so much to explore here A breaking voice inside me begins to interfere: Chicago streets, I sing while I walk, girl Chicago streets, where my eyes search for you........................ The great sky-scrapers touching the Heavens The busy folks talking into their cell phones The lady staring me past the glass door of the Fish Bar Amidst the stranded traffic, the loud honking of the car..... When I start to believe there's so much to excite me A cracking sound croons like the waves in a sea: Chicago streets, I sing while I walk, girl Chicago streets, where my eyes search for you........................

throw not that smirk of indolence on my poverty, o Princess give me a crescent smile instead whence I can see a dream fulfilled Siddartha Pamulaparty. Nov 24, 2006.

what am i but a fallen leaf lone petal of a wilted rose blown away by the streams of breeze- my life is like a yellow sheaf. dry and worn out in summer's heat! 44˚ 30΄N 18˚ 60΄E Сапна England 18 Two Halves DH 08468082: http://www.bankofengland.co.uk/banknotes/current/current_10.htm

'Tis a very bad song I know, but I felt like writing it and wrote it!!! here you go, this is my favourite song come with me and won't you sing along everybody knows it there's nothing wrong i'm glad, i'm sad, i'm crazy and mad i was a nice guy then, now i am really bad i have ditched all the friends i ever had and its all because i fell in love i was on cloud nine in the sky above if she'll ever...think of me..... never know what it might about be.... what's in her mind i will never find my eyes can't see, i'm blind more than life, i trust now death is more kind!!!!!!!! if she'll ever...think of me................ if she'll ever think...of me.............. if she'll ever think of me................ Siddartha Pamulaparty Nov 19 2006

Words seem to play their way into colorful feelings of people around us. But the essence of each and every word that is spoken is not perceived in the level at which it must be. They say, speech is silver and silence is gold. I don’t believe it. Silence can be more agonizing than harsh words, at times. So possibly, ‘euphemistic speech is far greater than caustic silence.’ If not speech, at least distinct words have the magic.So, words have a very significant role in conveying the truth in one’s cogitating zone to another’s. Words can be powerful tools in empathizing, soothing, placating a torn-individual. Words can be highly contemptuous in representing dislike, hatred. But the most important advantage of words is their power in expressing love, affection, trust and more importantly the Truth. Words of love don’t come as easily, when there is no honesty in the very process of producing them. On the other hand, when love is entrusted with confidence and reliability, then words keep pour

I had recently been thinking about getting back to Plato (read Socrates) but I hadn't had a chance to. Last week (October 19th, 2006) there was a solicitation to my late grandfather in my home town. As a part of this, I had learnt a lot about him. One of such discoveries was that he had translated a book in English titled "Theory of Knowledge" into Telugu. On further enquiry, I found that this version in English by Cronford was in turn a translation of Plato's work. This part of "theory of knowledge" was associated with a story that Socrates narrates in "The Republic", book 7. This story is very popular as the 'Analogy of the Cave". I had read this analogy about 3 years back when I was crazily trying to write a thesis on "Theory of Analogy". Of course, I had lost the Abstract as it was lying on my hard disk which got corrupted. Anyway, coming back to the actual discussion, I wanted to kind of get back to "Socrates and Me&quo

It is strange that I had taken a long time to write something for someone who inspired me in discovering the beautiful art of writing Sonnets. While there are many who wrote sonnets, Shakespearean sonnets seem like the embodiment of the perfection in poetry...and I began investing my energy on producing sonnets. Of course I tend to make mistakes and some time may write really stupid and meaningless verses...nevertheless, I believe, "when you gotta write, you gotta write". Here we go then: How love makes its way into a man's life? And how a man loves a woman in truth? It had always been a matter of strife To my crazy mind while I was a youth. Then came upon it, one wild breezy storm On a graceful day, I remember still An angel of fire in a human form Stroke it hard with a wand a gainst my will; I fainted awhile into deep slumber Woke up in the arms of an unknown God Counting syllables ten, the strange number In each of fourteen lines He wrote, aloud. 'Twas Sonnet one

Up in the morning 'Tis still so dark outside I think I hear the door-bell ring And for a minute I try to hide Then I remember.... This is America, here I don't 've to wait for none This is America, where I 've gotta wake up the Sun!!! This ain't my home This ain't that Holy Land. This certainly ain't Rome There ain't no Gold in this Sand But I wonder..... This is America, here I feel I can reach up so high This is America, where I 've gotta touch the sky!! What about friends? I have the one closest to my heart Who's gonna be with me till my life ends Who's been with me right from the start It does matter... This is America, here my solitude and I are in love This is America, where I can kiss the Heavens above!!! This is America This is America Where I sing my own Song This is America This is America It seems to me I 've been here since so long This is America This is America Here I see a brand new dream This is America This is America Whe

Heavily my heart, heavily again, Beat to the melodies of those wild bells- Relentlessly ringing, singing of pain, Fueling this burning that in my heart dwells. Happily my heart, happily with joy Dance to the music of that insane song Which I wrote when I was a very young boy Yelling innocently,something was wrong. Wake up my heart, wake up every dark night Amid those purple dreams which were not real Wake up to see again infinite Light That taught me the Truth of what I should feel. And when Heavens with my fate interlude, Rest in the arms of my sweet solitude. Probably I can improvise on this. I got the idea this morning. I was not able to sleep, contemplating on the climax of this one. Now before I rest for the day, let me put my heart to rest in the arms of my solitude, which has always been with me, when I am alone or otherwise. Siddartha Pamulaparty 12 Nov 2006.

This is a poem which I wrote for a certain special someone during back in my college.... Perhaps this will be true for every new crush I have, especially my latest one...this is for you! (Qui aime bien, tard oublie) She is my Heaven, She is my Hell, She is every word- In the ode that I tell. She is my hope, She is my dismay. She brings in the light As the sunshine of my day. She is my fate, She is my bliss. She is the only one- I ever wished to kiss. She is my Heart, She is my Soul. By being in my thoughts- She makes me whole. Siddartha Pamulaparty Date written: May 2002 Date Valid: Forever.

A li'l bit of Whitman, Frost.... completed in a hurry, because did not want to spend much time on it... "Seems like the things that you can't have are the things you want the most". - Song: East Side Story Album: Room Service Artist: Bryan Adams (THE GOD). In vain I grab my pen again To write what I have always wrote Of love and its consequence- pain And lives ending on tragic note. It was a foolish disaster That I happened to fall in love. Those vivid dreams I saw of her Were from my small world, way above. What I never knew was her plan: That someone else was on her mind; That she did love another man- I could not in my musings find. In every instance of my breath I feel I myself cheated me; By losing life and winning death My tortured soul would be set free. A solemn dream I thought was real Made me think she was my beloved- The reason which made me so feel Is silence of the girl I loved. -Siddartha Pamulaparty Dt: Nov 08 2006 (esp after the last night's tort

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love, But now I think there is no unreturn'd love , the pay is certain one way or another, (I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd, Yet out of that I have written these songs.) - Walt Whitman Since I arrived here, I thought I would start reading the American poets in more detail. And on the initial research, found Whitman, who had inspired me some time earlier. About four years back, I read in a book on American Literature, a certain poem by Whitman called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed", published in his infamous "Leaves of grass". In that poem, there were certain lines on death he wrote. I thought it was amazing. It went like: DEATH CAROL. 16 Come, lovely and soothing Death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate Death. Prais’d be the fathomless universe, F

have travelled across seven seas, countries many but from here to where? P.Siddartha 06 Nov 2006

Thank you America for being too kind Towards the confused,miserable me While I was trying very hard to find A candid place where I can myself be Away from those things that attempt to bind And give me a sense that I can't be free- Corrupting my thoughts, weakening my mind!! But now by the grace of the Almighty Here I am as my eager eyes unblind To see that ahead lies the great glory: At this land of opportunity are lined Promises treasured, which I could not see Before I set my feet on these New soils- As I stand now, my blood once again boils! Siddartha Pamulaparty. Dt: 2 Nov 2006

The height of being: MISERABLE...

I will tell you why I chose “UnderScore” for this piece of writing later. Right now, I am very excited to write about a certain day in my life, which might perhaps a couple of years ago was every thing I wanted. I have this habit of being modest, so as usual I do not want to admit that it indeed was an exciting day. Well, this is the 11th day of October in the year 2006. So what’s so special about this day, huh? There are many things: it is the 64th Birthday of Indian Cinema’s Superstar, my favorite actor Amitabh Bacchan. It is the day the company I work declared its Q2 results and reported huge profits. And above all, today is the day an avenue opened for me to provide a possible journey to the land of liberty and a land that was oft quoted as the New Land of Opportunity. Yes, it is the day I got my Visa approved to travel to the Uncle Sam. Three years ago, I had a similat opportunity which I missed by being so unprepared and doing all the wrong things. My F-1 was rejected on the re

Hi audiences of my blog!! (hullo, anyone there?) anyways....here is a quick list of some upcoming matter from my idiotic brain: 1) "UnderScore" or "One More Big Day In My Life"---regarding my recent business trip to chennai. 2) "Help!! Jeeves"- While traveling today, I was reading this book 'Right Ho, Jeeves" by P.G.Wodehouse (I bought a set of 3 of the Jeeves series which my father asked) and had this funny idea of applying analogy and write a comic imitation of the characters plotted into a typical IT project environment: imagine Bertie as a project manager and Jeeves as the developer...doesn't it sound funny? For the first time ever in my life....I would be attempting to imitate some author !!! Wish me luck!! 3) "A critical essay on the positive thinkers"--Had a glance on a billboard which was endorsing some kind of positive message from a great figure..and felt skeptic about it and thought of trying a hand at some cynical cr

I wanna love you like a lover Wanna treat you like a Dream I wanna hold you like a flower Gonna let you never scream And when you look at me and I look into your eyes I see them shining like those stars in the skies I wanna love you like a lover Wanna treat you like a Dream I wanna hold you like a flower Gonna let you never scream And when I am feeling down; feel that I am a loser You lift me up and put the broken me together I wanna love you like a lover Wanna treat you like a Dream I wanna hold you like a flower Gonna let you never scream And when I held your little hand when we departed I knew that it was over before it even started!!!! Yeah Yeah Yeah!!! I wanna love you like a lover Wanna treat you like a Dream I wanna hold you like a flower Gonna let you never scream! Wanna treat you like a Dream, Yeah!! Wanna treat you like a Dream!! Gonna let you never scream, girl!! Wanna treat you like a Dream!! Never let you gonna scream Never let you gonna scream Gonna let you never scream,

"Are you okay?" If that's your question....then my answer is No. Absolutely No. I am feeling fully disgusted. I am miserable and full of guilt. I am sick of things and sick of being myself. I can't help questioning myself what's wrong with me? And answer myself again: everything.

Shall I wait till the day of Valentine- Or confess right away my love for you? For, always be alike feelings of mine- In dry mornings or evenings of dew; In the shimmering hot sun of summer Or in the killing chill of winter's cold! Brand new seasons or those memories old; I ever in silence like a hummer Sing the same lyrics I wrote of my love- My sweet love, that I never spoke about Yet had not allowed to establish doubt Of my admiration that stands above The Heavens that are seen only in dream: A dream that you are or your name a dream!! P.Siddartha. 21May2006.

(She:) "Was that the sound of gentle streams That on this rocks are falling to?" (I:) "No, my Love! it is in your dreams That my dry lips are calling you!" (She:) "Was that the voice of that great bard, Who grew so wise and died too young?" (I:) "No my darling! it is not hard To hear my heart humming your song!" P.Siddartha 17may2006.

There are those who have an ambition There are those who have a solemn dream; And those with strong determination That flow in wild woods like a graceful stream. Where are they? P.Siddartha. 16may2006.

Blind was I Couldn't see While you were in Front of my eyes. Mad am I Can't forget when You are away From my arms. P.Siddartha. 16may2006.

A strange thing, I don't like soccer...but i wrote something on that too!!! What with life? I ask myself. And often find Some strange answers. Says one voice It's a soccer game In which you win On scoring goals. Yells another It's a soccer ball You get kicked By unknown feet. One more shouts It's a soccer net You catch and hold When a good one comes. What about This soccer thing? I sometimes ask and Answer myself. For some this Soccer is but life; And for some this Life is soccer. P.Siddartha 16 May 2006.

These are some of my random thoughts, which I fear may be lost with time!! So, as Thoreau said: "Write while the heat is in you. The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with. He cannot inflame the minds of his audience". I do not want to have my iron cold, whilst I attempt to drill a hole in to the massive rocks, hoping to see a ray of light that perchance could make me Enlightened. Following are some of thoughts I would like to record for the time being, and somewhere in eternity revisit them and keep my promises!! To begin with a few lines that I am really proud of to have written recently: This thought in mind of you alone, Turned me into human from stone ! Perhaps, this is one of the best couplets I loved to create. And may be if there is enough inspiration, I could build this up to a good set of stanzas. Then again there are some less inspired but nevertheless worth recording: I know what I am I am a loser big t

As always, a dream that's interrupted, a song that's forgotten, a story that's never happened.... I had a dream over last night A dream so vivid and so real. I had this strange kind of feel- As my mind and soul had begun to fight. Said my mind, "Forget it fool- This fleeting thought that you have. You're not made for this thing called love." As if imposing on me a rule. Said my soul, "Come on! Come on! Welcome to this dark world of lust- Where your desire and your wish come first." As if singing me an old tune. When I woke up on the daybreak A fresh breeze of smile flew up my lips. As I walked past and climbed down the steps Right inside my chest started this ache. My heart! I knew, it was my heart!! Poor my heart was throbbing too hard. I felt I must borrow a few lines from the bard And express my grief, through the graceful art. Until I saw her face again (Or was it her body first I saw?) I writhed and whined in an attempt to withdraw From thi

Socrates said that ‘The unexamined life is not worth living.’ He actually, implemented this principle and not just lived for it, but even died for the same. This is what I gathered, amongst many curious facts about Socrates from a neat book on the Western Philosophy. At this juncture, I thought I should contemplate once again on my stand in defending my own theory and philosophy. Well, on the periphery, my judgment of Socrates, his life and thoughts are pretty simple, he was closest to what I comprehend as Perfection. Although many of his thoughts as the present day books suggest look amazingly familiar to a student of ancient Hindu scriptures, I have a doubt whether a character called Socrates did really exist or was it a profound imagination of Plato of a perfect human being. In this essay, I would like to emphasize on what my thoughts are in relation with what I know of the Socratic thought. I must admit and forewarn that I am still studying Socrates through Plato’s dialogues. I met