Difference between revisions of "The gate of flight"
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the geography from all the gates has some things in similar- a long road facing a large drain, a crowded long road of small shops behind which, invariably is a large field, where performances are staged. | the geography from all the gates has some things in similar- a long road facing a large drain, a crowded long road of small shops behind which, invariably is a large field, where performances are staged. | ||
| − | The gate of flight is made of plaster. somewhere in one of the larger bungalows of the city, not so prosperous, a dead butterfly, inked in black and | + | The gate of flight is made of plaster. somewhere in one of the larger bungalows of the city, not so prosperous, a dead butterfly, inked in black and orange was found on the road side, under the shadow of trees, it s body also stained with that powder-ink lipcolour. a colony of ants were preparing its hearse when the road cleaner came with his leather bag of water. A thousand tiny dead ants soon sat by the still intact wings of the red and black butterfly. |
Deep in the city ( reachable from every gate of course) is the Viman Shastra building, heavy, large, with a most un ergonomic dark glass facade, walls of polished granite, and bulky pillars. It has been newly made by the government. The officer who is willing to meet us seems knowledgable. He wears large glasses, at odd with his shiny surroundings, like he has been plucked out of a life of quiet, impossible study, consenting to be a fool to his passion and suddenly, he has been given this office and this chair. | Deep in the city ( reachable from every gate of course) is the Viman Shastra building, heavy, large, with a most un ergonomic dark glass facade, walls of polished granite, and bulky pillars. It has been newly made by the government. The officer who is willing to meet us seems knowledgable. He wears large glasses, at odd with his shiny surroundings, like he has been plucked out of a life of quiet, impossible study, consenting to be a fool to his passion and suddenly, he has been given this office and this chair. | ||
He has no governmental affiliations and preferences, he tells us. Of course he believes Indians flew in planes once upon a while ago. He is watchful for any signs of incredulousness on our parts but also immune to it, if a bit contemptuous. I recognise at once, a man who has hardened his skin to comments on his frequent escapes to the city library, to other places, finding out about flying. I wonder where he started, how he reached this place where his name is inextricably linked with the ancient hindu art of flying. | He has no governmental affiliations and preferences, he tells us. Of course he believes Indians flew in planes once upon a while ago. He is watchful for any signs of incredulousness on our parts but also immune to it, if a bit contemptuous. I recognise at once, a man who has hardened his skin to comments on his frequent escapes to the city library, to other places, finding out about flying. I wonder where he started, how he reached this place where his name is inextricably linked with the ancient hindu art of flying. | ||
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The people around always translate it as gate of light, not flight. Flight might be too intricate a word and the simpler word has replaced it. What is it a gate of, anyway? there does not seem to be a fixed point of reference, in its decorations. Everything, from flowers and leaves, to lamps afloat of tendrils to butterflies and snakes have been covered in its peeling, rough, but intricate relief. I might have carved in some stars and clouds for good measure. | The people around always translate it as gate of light, not flight. Flight might be too intricate a word and the simpler word has replaced it. What is it a gate of, anyway? there does not seem to be a fixed point of reference, in its decorations. Everything, from flowers and leaves, to lamps afloat of tendrils to butterflies and snakes have been covered in its peeling, rough, but intricate relief. I might have carved in some stars and clouds for good measure. | ||
| − | Anyhow, the blasted sun beats so strong in this time of year, its white light is stronger than all gates. The sun is so strong at this time of the year, it could well be the gate of light. | + | Anyhow, the blasted(blasting) sun beats so strong in this time of year, its white light is stronger than all gates. The sun is so strong at this time of the year, it could well be the gate of light. |
[[1877]] | [[1877]] | ||
Revision as of 11:11, 29 March 2015
यहाँ दोफ़हर की धूप में, तपती सड़क पर उड़ते परिंदों की परच्छाइयाँ दिखती हैं. आसमान देखा नहीं जाता पर तपती सड़क स्लेटी रंग का आसमान बन जाती है.. पंख गिरते उठते गिरते, फड़फड़ाते फिर मौन मुद्रा में हवा की तरंगों पर सवार हैं. इन परछाईयों पर इस गेट का नाम पड़ा है? धूप में तपता एक आदमी परछाई को जैसे सम्मोहित होकर देख रहा है, कहीं से पानी मिलने की आस छोड़ कर..वो सर उठाता है, तो उसकी पलकें भी ऊपर को उड़ान भरती हैं.
the geography from all the gates has some things in similar- a long road facing a large drain, a crowded long road of small shops behind which, invariably is a large field, where performances are staged.
The gate of flight is made of plaster. somewhere in one of the larger bungalows of the city, not so prosperous, a dead butterfly, inked in black and orange was found on the road side, under the shadow of trees, it s body also stained with that powder-ink lipcolour. a colony of ants were preparing its hearse when the road cleaner came with his leather bag of water. A thousand tiny dead ants soon sat by the still intact wings of the red and black butterfly. Deep in the city ( reachable from every gate of course) is the Viman Shastra building, heavy, large, with a most un ergonomic dark glass facade, walls of polished granite, and bulky pillars. It has been newly made by the government. The officer who is willing to meet us seems knowledgable. He wears large glasses, at odd with his shiny surroundings, like he has been plucked out of a life of quiet, impossible study, consenting to be a fool to his passion and suddenly, he has been given this office and this chair. He has no governmental affiliations and preferences, he tells us. Of course he believes Indians flew in planes once upon a while ago. He is watchful for any signs of incredulousness on our parts but also immune to it, if a bit contemptuous. I recognise at once, a man who has hardened his skin to comments on his frequent escapes to the city library, to other places, finding out about flying. I wonder where he started, how he reached this place where his name is inextricably linked with the ancient hindu art of flying.
The sky of the chest
the flying saucer or the उड़ान खटोले (flying cot/cage)
"because a flying saucer is also an aero plane"
The people around always translate it as gate of light, not flight. Flight might be too intricate a word and the simpler word has replaced it. What is it a gate of, anyway? there does not seem to be a fixed point of reference, in its decorations. Everything, from flowers and leaves, to lamps afloat of tendrils to butterflies and snakes have been covered in its peeling, rough, but intricate relief. I might have carved in some stars and clouds for good measure. Anyhow, the blasted(blasting) sun beats so strong in this time of year, its white light is stronger than all gates. The sun is so strong at this time of the year, it could well be the gate of light.
