Dyon's Den

eșa rājñām paro dharmah sahyauh jayaparājayau "It is the highest dharma of kings to persevere both in victory and defeat." MHB XII.107.27 (Bhishma tells Yudhisthira)

"I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked!" -Shakespeare

Photo, posted without a caption

Ars Poetica (Kenyatta Rogers) Poems are bullshit unless they are broken like a horse, like a dog kicked in the ribs, Like your favorite toy that’s missing an arm. Love can make you feel used. I want the poem that limps back to me. Poems should hurt like love, like ice water on your teeth like a massage to smooth out a cramped muscle. Give me the poem that’s like leather. Give me the poem that smells like gasoline.…

झटक कर ज़ुल्फ जब तुम तौलिए से बारिशे आज़ाद करती हो, अच्छा लगता है हिला कर होंठ जब भी हौले हौले गुफ्तगू को साज़ करती हो, अच्छा लगता है अलग एहसास होता है, तुम्हारे पास होने का सरकती सरसराहट की, नदी में रेशमी लम्हे भिगोने का ओ हो हो ज़रा सा मोड़ कर गर्दन जब अपनी ही अदा पे नाज़ करती हो, अच्छा लगता है वो तेरे ध्यान की खुश्बू मैं सर तक ओढ़ लेता हूँ भटकती साँस को तेरी गली में गुनगुनाने छोड़ देता हूँ तुम अपनी खिड़कियों को…

Photo, posted without a caption

The Wisdom of Silenus Near the beginning of The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche tells the ancient story of King Midas hunting in the forest for the wise Silenus, the companion of Dionysus. At last, after many years, the King manages to capture him and asks what is the best and most desirable thing for man. Silenus maintains a surly silence until, goaded by the King, he bursts out with a contemptuous laugh and says, “Oh…

.

हो गई है पीर पर्वत-सी पिघलनी चाहिए इस हिमालय से कोई गंगा निकलनी चाहिए आज यह दीवार, परदों की तरह हिलने लगी शर्त थी लेकिन कि ये बुनियाद हिलनी चाहिए हर सड़क पर, हर गली में, हर नगर, हर गाँव में हाथ लहराते हुए हर लाश चलनी चाहिए सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं मेरी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही हो कहीं भी आग, लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए

I dreamed my Lady and I were dead And dust was either heart; Our bodies in one grave were laid, Our souls went far apart, Hers with the saints for aye to dwell And mine to lie and pine in Hell. But when my Lady looked for me And found her quest in vain, For all that blessed company She knew nothing but pain. She cried: “How feigned your praising is! Your God is love, and love I miss.” The hills wher…

It will take time, I know; but teach him, if you can, that a dollar earned is far more valuable than five found. Teach him to learn to lose and also to enjoy winning. Steer him away from envy, if you can. Teach him the secret of quite laughter. Let him learn early that the bullies are the easiest to tick. Teach him, if you can, the wonder of books... but also give him quiet time to ponder over the eternal mystery…

.