Certified crazy

Last week, on the Paris Metro, I found another set of beautiful lines. (Like earlier) This time, I googled for the four lines and found the whole poem:

Que m’importent lieu, durée,
Si je demeure assurée
De garder toujours l’instant
Seconde ou siècles, autant
Le vent sur sa route emporte.
Lieu, durée, ah, que m’importe,
Tout défile au même train.

Je ne saisirai qu’un grain
Du sable des destinées.

Pour le cueillir, je suis née.

- Liliane Wouters
Extrait de Tous les chemins conduisent à la mer, éditions des Eperonniers, 2007.
Keeping aside the stink of the Metros, I think it has been a worthwhile ride.

j’ai dit parfois
j’ai dit oui
j’ai dit non

j’ai dit parfois
j’ai dit oui
j’ai dit oui

j’ai dit peut-être
j’ai dit jamais
j’ai dit je t’aime

-Pierre Tilman

As seen on a sticker of Rock en Seine festival in metro ligne 6. Apart from this one. May be, someday, I shall make a series of these beautiful lines that I happen to stumble over, in Paris.

Read off one of the posters of Rock en Seine in the ligne 6 of Paris Metro.

Je ne saurais décrire
La puissance de mes sentiment
Je n’est qu’une chose à dire
Je t’aime tellement …

Touché.

This could probably be my last post from Sophia Antipolis and Eurécom for a long time to come. With exams done, and projects submitted, and reports taken care of, now its time to shift base to Paris, for internship for the next six months.

Time sure flew by very fast, especially this semester, as I had expected it to, and we are all saying bye bye and au revoirs to every other person who leaves Sophia for other places in France and elsewhere in Europe. A lot of parties and good bye dinners. Hugs. Pool games. Foosball. Wine. Flowers. Jokes. Laughter. Jogs. Trips to Carrefour. The climb up to Eurecom. More trips to Carrefour. Closure of EDF contracts. Trips to Issac. The balconies. Rain. Tea. Cheese balls. Maggi. French. And the struggle to speak Français. Beach. Promenade des Anglais. Crème glace. Fountain. The walks through the jungle. The complements. Benches in the moonlight. Neighbours. Sitting at the window. 321. The church. Running to catch the last bus back home. Falafel. Summer wind. Group classes during exams. Copy everything blindly from others´ notes. Open book exams. Handwritten A4 cheatsheets. Badminton. Asking for everything under the sun. And getting it. The calls. Late night speak-your-heart-out sessions. Haircuts. Cleaning up after parties. Cooking food and seeing it being eaten very happily. Pani puris. Hair bands.

Au revoir, mais pas adieu.

Life would have been so much more interesting if all the signs on our Indian roads would have been in what we call “Bambaiyya Hindi”. Some examples:

Exit: chal kalti maar. 

No smoking: Cigarette nahi pine ka, kya?

(French) Vous n’avez pas La Priorité: Abey, tera number nahi, apun ka hai. 

No entry: Andar nahi ghusneka. 

Keep left: Baine baaju me rakh. 

No U-turn: Wapas ulta nahi ghumne ka. 

Can you think of some more funny ones? 

Eu não existo longe de você
E a solidão, é o meu pior castigo
Eu conto as horas pra poder te ver
Mas o relógio tá de mal comigo…

Por quê? Por quê?

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

- William Blake

can be as naive as “forgot to put the brackets” to as buzzy as “left the scope undefinied”.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

But the feet question “Whither?”

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

“Can I walk in for an interview tomorrow?”

Yes, you can, but you may not.