bhoola-bhatka kaptaan

some greens, some reds and little things of beauty

[namoonaa]

Anubhav x Pradeep x Abhay

[namoonaa]

An unpopular opinion (maybe),

History is my dearest, my beloved and one of the reasonsss of it is the visual aesthetic it creates in my mind whenever i read someone from the past. That’s right. SOMEONE. Not dates, nor places or wars. But someone’s personal, his/her own story, the way they use to think of beauty, how they used to express that joy of beauty, and how would they express themselves in the present time.

And that’s my greatest love, to see people from past, and from present, expressing themselves, and only themselves, not the भीड़ !

Words are less for aesthetics like these…

With a pinch of the surviving Mughal legacy in a still modern concept…that’s what सोने पर सुहागा for me! What I feel of them in my imagination (creatively) is now, in front of the screen, which is still waiting to be a reality.

Just one of the finest examples of humanly expressions…(with a pleasant smelling past legacy)

Pasoori

Plus, these tracks by Mughal-e-funk!! You can feel your veins overflowing with imaginations of the past, in the present…which would ultimately lead you to THAT world, the world of HUMANS ❤️

[namoonaa]

things of beauty

[ssavaart]

Rabindranath Tagore

One of the things I love the most about making content online is... I've grown so much as a human being.

My art has gotten better too, of course.

But every day I'm introduced to so many cultures and customs and people from all different walks of life and it has honestly made me a better person because of that.

Just today, I was introduced to Rabindranath Tagore. And I think the thing that made me immediately want to learn more about him was that he was referred to as "The Bard of Bengal."

He was a Polymath (which, I think means he was really smart in a lot of different subjects) from Bengal who became the first non-European and the first lyricist to win the Nobel Prize in Literature

He was a poet, writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer, and painter.

He was a humanist, universalist, internationalist, and ardent critic of nationalism, he denounced the British Rule over India and advocated independence from Britain.

He hung out with Einstein and Gandhi and seemed like a generally cool guy.

Both India and Bangladesh use his works as their national anthems.

And while I'm getting most of my information from Wikipedia... my subscribers from India and Bengal assured me that Rabindranath Tagore is absolutely beloved and truly someone more people should know about.

Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥

Scott

[namoonaa]

flowers in common

from “Jahangir and His Vizier, I'timad al-Daula”, Folio from the Shah Jahan Album.

[namoonaa]

Let us seek the religion of this and other people not in their gods but in Man, who dreamed of his own infinity and majestically worked for all time, defying danger and death.

Religion of Man, Rabindranath Tagore

[namoonaa]

Gifs for life ft. Addy (Rahil Azam)

[namoonaa]

Loose shirt, loose pants, loose hair with a loose smile…

Rahil Azam as Addy in Parrivaar (2007-08)

[namoonaa]

The peoples, being living personalities, must have their self-expression, and this leads to their distinctive creations. These creations are literature, art, social symbols and ceremonials. They are like different dishes at one common feast. They add richness to our enjoyment and understanding of truth. They are making the world of man fertile of life and variedly beautiful.

- Rabindranath Tagore in ‘Creative Unity’

[philosophors]

“Love is the ultimate meaning of everything around us. It is not a mere sentiment; it is truth; it is the joy that is at the root of all creation.”

— Rabindranath Tagore

[namoonaa]

Between the artist and his art must be that perfect detachment which is the pure medium of love. He must never make use of this love except for its own perfect expression.

- Rabindranath Tagore, Creative Unity

[namoonaa]

ज़िंदगी नाम है कुछ लम्हों का, और उन में भी वही इक लम्हा जिस में दो बोलती आँखें चाय की प्याली से जब उट्ठीं तो दिल में डूबीं

- Kaifi Azmi

बस यूँही बैठे रहो, हाथ में हाथ लिए ग़म की सौग़ात लिए, गर्मी-ए-जज़्बात लिए

कौन जाने कि उसी लम्हे में, दूर पर्बत पे कहीं बर्फ़ पिघलने ही लगे…

————————————————————————-

“तुम्हे पता है चन्दर, बर्फ क्यों गिरती है ?”, पम्मी ने पुछा, “शायद...आसमान का दिल पिघल रहा है”, बहुत ‘सोच-विचार’ करके चन्दर ने जवाब दिया|

“ह्म्म…आसमान का भी दिल पिघलता है!”, पम्मी ने चन्दर की टोपी पर जमी बर्फ को झड़काते हुए पुछा, “और तुम्हारा?”

चन्दर ने बर्फीली वादियों से नज़रें हटाकर पम्मी की ओर कर ली | पम्मी की आँखों में उम्मीद की पतली परतों के मंडराते बादल को देख चन्दर ने उसे अपनी हंसी के झोंके से उड़ा दिया |

“मैं बादल नहीं हूँ पम्मी जी |”

कश्मीर के सर्द aesthetics को , और पम्मी के नज़रिये को (kind of)...कहीं कैद करना ही था ❤️❄️ जैसे जैसे समझ आता जा रहा है, वैसे वैसे हर किरदार का नजरिया समझने की उत्सुकता बढ़ती जा रही है |

[namoonaa]

Pyaasa, 1957

मैं दूर जा रहा हूँ, गुलाब |

कहाँ ?

जहाँ से मुझे और दूर न जाना पड़े |

बस...यही कहने आये थे ?

साथ चलोगी ?

[namoonaa]

Pyaasa, 1957

[namoonaa]

यदि तुम मुझसे प्रेम करते हो, चन्दर, तो मुझे मेरा आनंद माफ़ करना |

[ if you love me, beloved, forgive me my joy ]

जब अगर मैं अपने सिंघासन पर बैठ कर तुम्हे अपने प्रेम के अत्याचार से बाध्य करूँ,

[when I sit on my throne and rule you with my tyranny of love]

जब अगर एक देवी की तरह मैं तुम्हे अपना अनुग्रह दान करूँ,

[when like a goddess I grant you my favour]

[written by Rabindranath Tagore, जिसे translate करने की छोटी सी कोशिश की है, सुधा के लिए]

🥀

मेरा घमंड तुम झेल लेना चन्दर, और मुझे मेरा आनंद माफ़ करना |

[bear with my pride, beloved, and forgive me my joy.]

- तुम्हारी सुधि

[namoonaa]

Why do you put me to shame?

-Rabindranath Tagore

Not a rose did I gathered from your garden, not a fruit did I pluck.

I humbly took my shelter under the wayside shade where every strange traveler may stand.

Not a rose did I pluck.

Yes, my feet were tired, and the shower of rain come down.

The wind cried out among the swaying bamboo branches.

The clouds ran across the sky as though in the flight from defeat.

My feet were tired.

I know not what you thought of me or for whom you were waiting at your door…

Flashes of lightning dazzled your watching eyes.

How could I know that you could see me where I stood in the dark?

I know not what you thought of me.

The day is ended, and the rain has ceased for a moment.

I leave the shadow of the tree at the end of your garden and this seat on the grass.

It has darkened; shut your door; I go my way.

The day is ended…

[namoonaa]

When she passed by me with quick steps, the end of her skirt touched me.

From the unknown island of a heart came a sudden warm breath of spring.

A flutter of a flitting touch brushed me and vanished in a moment, like a torn flower petal blown in the breeze.

It fell upon my heart like a sigh of her body and whisper of her heart…

-Rabindranath Tagore, the Gardener