FF:The Foreign Self PartX - XIII - Page 9

Armana

the poem was just beautiful.thanx for sharing with us

fabalous part,very beautifully written the relationships between jai,naciket and ranveer wonderfully protrayed.loved the way you described what jai felt for his angel and his bani.hope he finds out soon she is his angel.simply superb.will be eagerly waiting for the next part,cant wait. 😊

Great part Armana!!!

I loved what Mr. Winston told Jai...that was beautiful
and Jai to pass it on to his brother and nephew was just too sweet...
His relationship with his nephew and brother is just amazing and so relaxed and comfortable...

JB...hmmm...interesting...they behave like teenagers when it comes to phone calls. 😆 😆 😆
but i have to say that it seems like Jai is falling for Bani unknowingly and this visit might just make him realize i hope...

love it how you've portrayed Jai here...someone totally different than the KS JW...
Anyways please update soon
rooj

Armana
Words fail me !!
What a lovely part and the way you describe things with such detail just brings it all to life!!!
Hope Bani arrives soon to take Mumbai, Walia Mansion and of course Jai and his family by storm!!!
Let the fireworks begin!!!
Update soon!!!
Nina

Armana

You surprise me with every part that you post darling 👏 👏 👏

A wonderful part, how apt both their situations are and how close to real life they are.

Also love the poems that you use (I was again going to make the same mistake regarding plurals 😉 but checked myself at the last moment).

I feel like reading, re-reading theseparts again and again. Every word, every sentence carries a deeper meaning which touches our soul and heart, and we are all a party to this beautiful yet tempestuous ride that the two have presently sucumbed too.

I am not very good at poems, but I read this one quite some time back, and I keep on re-reading it, to find a new meaning everytime I read.

Everytime I read this story, I remember this poetry and so thought I would share, although I am not sure whether it really gells.

Here it goes

Perhaps this could have stayed unstated.
Had our words turned to other things
In the grey park, the rain abated,
Life would have quickened other strings.
I list your gifts in this creation:
Pen, paper, ink and inspiration,
Peace to the heart with touch or word,
Ease to the soul with note and chord.

How did that walk, those winter hours,
Occasion this? No lightning came;
Nor did I sense, when touched by flame,
Our story lit with borrowed powers -
Rather, by what our spirits burned,
Embered in words, to us returned.

From Vikram Seth's 'An Equal Music'

Sangita,
that was awesome. I love Vikram Seth in all his avatars; poet, novelist, travel writer; but the peice you have quoted is just exquisite!
and this is one seth novel, which for some reason or the other i've never gotten around to reading.
Now i have a real motive! thank you.
On another note, the singulars and the plurals shall remain our secret 😉

As for TFS, i am glad you are enjoying it so much. makes me happy whenever a reader takes the time to tell me that!

regards,
armana

Armana

Then you must read it. Its a little over the top for Seth I guess, but I love it.

A secret : When I first started reading AEM, I was bored cos it started with Western classical music, of which I have no idea. Ok, I am a dodo, I know.

Then i took up the challenge and then went and read it, now I read it whenever I get time. Its beautiful, especially the interaction between Michael and Julia.

You must read.

Check thos out by Rilke,

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial. - But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...

I love reading his works 😊

Armana darling,

You already know and by now you must be tired of me using the same old adjectives and phrases again and again in describing your writing dear. 😃 So Will just👏

Loved the way you so beautifully describe the relationship between Jai and his brother and nephew and also between Nephew and the step uncle (Ranveer & Nattu).

Mr.Winston words and wisdom so beautifully im[arted to the two young ones who look up to him and showing faith in them by handling over his first gain.

Aww....JB on the phone😳, could so relate to it dear😛.Been through those donot wnat to hang up the phone first phase😆 ...it was like deja vu for me, took me down memory lane😳😃.

Cant wait to see when relaization hits Jai that Bani is his angel, who he cant forget.😆

Till your next update dear.

Love

Krishna

Sorry I am swamping the thread.

Whenever I read the parts between 'angel' and 'bright foreigner' and there time in that Chapel and afterwards, I remember this poetry -

Falling Stars

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.


Now, i need to stop I Know. 😉

Sorry dear, couldnt leave Office before sharing this one with you -


Love Song

How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Again by Rilke 😛

Sangs,
no fears about swamping the thread. feel free to do so.
I am a huge Rilke fan. That's where the quote i use on msn also comes from!

cheers,
armana