Isaac Newton once lived next door to a nosy old widow who was ignorant of her neighbor’s renown. One day she was visited by a Fellow of the Royal Society (over which Newton himself would later preside), to whom she described the odd behavior of “the poor crazy gentleman” next door. “Every morning,” she explained, “when the sun shines so brightly that we are obliged to draw the window-blinds, he takes his seat in front of a tub of soap-suds and occupies himself for hours blowing bubbles through a common clay pipe and intently watches them until they burst.” Ushered to a window by his hostess, the man recognized Newton at once. “The person you suppose to be a poor lunatic,” he declared, “is none other than the great Sir Isaac Newton, studying the refraction of light upon thin plates – a phenomenon which is beautifully exhibited upon the surface of common soap bubbles.”


Lately, I have been reading poetry by Faiz Ahmad Faiz – Lovely poetry and especially poignant. Perhaps, I read both these pieces while in a relatively contemplative frame of mind. Hence, I am inclined to putting them on my blog.



Loneliness like a good, old friend
visits my house to pour wine in the evening.
And we sit together, waiting for the moon,
and for your face to sparkle in every shadow.

Last Night

Last night your lost memory visited my heart
as spring visits the wilderness quietly,
as the breeze echoes the silence of her footfalls
in the desert,
as peace slowly, softly descends on one’s sickness.