Archive for July, 2005

July 26, 2005

Deepak and Abha on 26th July 2005

This is a Hello from Deepak

The Doon Valley- Alive with the beauty of Nature

July 26, 2005

Dreams come alive at the Sulphur Springs Road
Where a solitary Gliding Dove stands
In The Doon Valley

July 25, 2005

Reflections – That was not what it looked like when I painted it

This is a Hello from Deepak

July 20, 2005

This is a Photograph of the Forest Research Institute of India at Dehradun

This is a Hello from Deepak

Hyderabad Night Lights from Banjara Hills

July 18, 2005

If ever – A Poem by Deepak Menon

July 18, 2005

IF EVER, OVER MY GRAVE, YOU GRIEVE

A moment ago your eyes personified life’s joys, great and small
Your face smiled at the world.
Your face still smiles, but like the smile painted on a doll
As absently, you brush aside a curl,

Of your carelessly ribboned locks of wavy lustrous hair
Falling in a cascade around your face.
And I see that the fire of love in your eyes, is no longer there
Vanished without a trace.

I know that, for some time you will continue to profess love
While you gently retreat,
From my life, knowing that, I have already suffered enough
While worshipping your feet.

I wonder if you will ever think about me in later years,
When another, you gently leave;
I wonder if your lovely eyes will well with reluctant tears,I

f ever, over my grave, you grieve.

A Little goat went for a climb – A poem for little goats

July 11, 2005

A Little goat went for a climb
To the top of a little hill
He climbed and he climbed
And he climbed until
He reached the top of the hill

The little goat then looked around
From the top of the little hill
He looked and he looked
And looked till he had his fill
From the top of the little hill

The little goat at last looked down
From the top of the little hill
And he gave a little cry
When he saw how high
Was the top of the little hill.

The little goat tried to get down
From the top of the little hill
But the way was steep
And he fell in a heap
Near the top of the little hill

When the little goat opened his eye
Near the top of the little hill
A little teardrop fell
And fell and fell
To the bottom of the little hill.

But when it fell with a little splash
Mother goat at the bottom of the little hill
Saw the tear fall
And at once knew all
And climbed up the little hill

And when she neared the top
She saw on the little hill
Her baby little goat
With a sob in his throat
Near the top of the little hill

Mother goat picked up little goat
Near the top of the little hill
And carried him down
To her house in the town
Far away from the little hill

So the lesson we have learned
From the goat and the little hill
Is never to stray
Through night or day
And always listen to mother’s will.

Deepak Menon

EMPIRE HILL – a poem

July 10, 2005
EMPIRE HILL

(a poem by Deepak Menon)
The battle lost , the remnants fled
Of the once proud host, gallantly led
By flamboyant officers in flashing red
Nursing wounds that profusely bled

Not long ‘ere had bounded up the hill
Hearts pounding, flush’d with the thrill
Of certain victory, no thought that ill

Could befall them, of indomitable will

Almost at the summit, they heard a shout
“NOW LADS,” and then, there flashed out
A wall of flame, from the silent redoubt

And then began the rout

Of the greatest army the world had known
By ragged farmers in skin and bone
Who rebelled against the British throne
To found a nation of their own

A haphazard derelict mob, of motley men
With flintlocks so old, some knew not when
they had been made, or even when
had last been used, or would function then.

They crouched behind their earthen mound
which they, overnight, had raised from the ground,
And with haggard eyes looked around
Their ears filled with the thunderous sound

Of the Redshirts charging, in full cry

And each thought, he’d surely die
And his body rotting there would lie
Food for the vultures circling high.

For ammunition, they almost had none
No strength had they to try to run
Just one thought, into their minds was drum’d
Hold fire, and the battle is won

So there they crouched with simple faith

Until t’was almost too late
For nearly upon them, crazed with hate
Loomed the enemy, invincible and great

Then suddenly they heard, the awaited shout

“FIRE,” and the trusty flints belched out
A sheet of death in a mighty gout
Which toss’d the British right about.

Like corks floating in a stormy sea
Shattering instantly, what used to be
The pride of the Empire’s army

But the farmers still crouched wearily.

Not even knowing, they had toll’d
That day on Bunker Hill
The bell, whose chimes rolled

Around the world until……

THE LOSS OF EMPIRE

SKYMERGE – A Glimpse….

July 6, 2005
CHAPTER I – (OF THE BOOK) – SKYMERGE
by Deepak Menon
Ruhan the Lute Player slowly came to consciousness. For some time, he thought that he was dead or that his soul had departed from his body – so devoid of feeling was he. The silence deafened him after the terrible cacophony of the previous seven days. Darkness covered the land so he could not see. Slowly he became aware of a long drawn out groaning, sinking into his consciousness from some infinitely remote distance. It took him a long time to realise that the sound was emanating from his own half-open mouth.
And then he became aware of pain. Pain, permeating slowly into every cell of his body – overpowering him with its intensity. Pain such as he had never dreamt could exist. He screamed uncontrollably into the darkness. Screamed again and again till he could scream no more. And lapsed into merciful unconsciousness.

Far to the East from where Ruhan lay, a huge reddish sun rose slowly over the horizon. So lethargic it was, that it took several hours to become fully visible. And it flooded the land with a blood red coverlet, as though the heavens had painted the soil red. Leafless trees stood out sparsely across the vast endless plain, brought into stark relief by the sun – – dark skeletons haloed in gold. The light of the sun was not warm. It did not make any appreciable difference to the chill, which covered the land. Yet it did contain some little warmth, which caused threads of wispy vapour to rise from pockets of water across the plains – so that very soon a light mist covered the land and marched westwards with the unveiling horizon.

Ruhan slowly came to, for the second time. The harsh red light of the rising sun revealed his body grotesquely sprawled at the top of a rocky outcrop incongruously marring the otherwise featureless plain. He groaned again and lay still. After an interminable time his mind succeeded in reasserting itself despite the intense pain in his body – and he could recall his name. Suddenly like a flash of lightning searing across his brain, he recoiled as the happenings of the previous days penetrated his consciousness and his memory hammered his mind with buffeting storms of images.

Images of a sword, thrusting into his body. Images of hands, reaching out for his, and then vanishing into the swirling waters. Of screams echoing in the darkness suddenly cut off as though with a knife. Of the raging torrents tearing his body away from the stark rock he clung to with his lacerated hands and ripped out fingernails. Images of horror, beyond human endurance.

He lapsed into unconsciousness again.

When he came to again – the Red Fury of the sun was beating down on his body from directly overhead. His skin was burning with its warmth. Groaning, he stirred and making a Herculean effort slowly sat up. His eyes opened and he looked around him. From his vantage point on the rocks, he could see all around him. There was not a soul to be seen, just a vast muddy plain. He lay back again and rested for a few moments.

When he opened his eyes the sun had shifted several degrees to the West. An agoraphobic terror filled him for an instant. He rose to his hands and knees and then to his feet. Very carefully he started climbing down from the rocks. Each movement brought waves of intense pain. Barely conscious, he at last stepped off the rocky outcrop onto the soft slush of the plain. He was faint with hunger and the ache in his stomach surpassed all the other pain he had sustained from the battering waves of the deluge. Guided by some unknown instinct he lurched away in the direction of the setting sun.

His staggering weaving walk continued for an interminable time. At last he reached the end of his tether and his body folded slowly onto the welcoming coolness of the mud.

High above in the red sky there was a flash of silver. A pair of lovely eyes scanned the plains for any sign of life as the craft flashed across the skies. The faint sound of its engines penetrated Ruhan’s consciousness, as he lay like an inert log on the muddy plain. He lurched to his feet – and performed a madman’s dance. Waving and croaking he leaped about frantically. He slipped and fell – came up again covered with mud. The craft continued its steady progress across the sky. Sobbing with frustration and despair he started hurling blobs of mud into the sky. Finally, exhausting the last of his little strength, he sank slowly into oblivion.

And the one in the craft detected a flicker of movement on the computer screen.

Deepaks Picture 15th August 2005

July 2, 2005

This is me
This was taken on Independence Day
at Dehradun, India