So where was this mouse all these days? Hibernating? Perhaps. Thinking? Sure. Holidaying? What? Who does that in winters? Well, this mouse does that. Even if it takes a "Science Conclave" to entice my parents in letting me loose. Even if that means skipping an odd hour discussion with Nobel Laureates in Physics and scampering in the streets of Allahabad.
Allahabad is a "[i]town". Coz it doesn't have plush hotels, posh localities, glittering roads, girls in skimpy skirts and choking tees.. In India that is just a way of demarcating "retained" culture from a lifestyle gone awry. But I like this city( if I may call it)!! Centuries of antiquity runs all through the veins of this ancient place. Our group skipped the morning jargon due at the Conclave and fitted in an auto(somehow!!) and headed straight to sangam. For those who may not know, Sangam means confluence. Here Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati mingle. Although Saraswati is not traceable anymore. But you can easily make out the two sacred rivers from their colors. Green Yamuna and placid white ganga make quite a sight. A morning boat-ride to their meeting place is a fantastic experience. Gust of wind across your face, a cool caress of water when you dip and sway your hands, flight of the seagulls....someone like me would surely get a high!!
And then I went to check out Anand Bhawan; the residence of the NEHRUs in the yesteryears. The antic was sublime and everything seemed to have been painted with poise and grace. I could almost fathom the Congress meetings, hear those momentous decisions. How young Indira Gandhi must have frolicked around in the lawn..everything seemed swirling before my eyes. On a light note, how can you live among the masses despite living in such opulence? But the NEHRUs did that. With their lives.
* I am over the moon having received an award( Ok...I can hear your claps..) .Not a glittering trophy.. not a certificate with my name scribbled so ornately that I can hardly make out my name!!...It's just a warm comment. Somehow words are still the warmest things you can give to someone. Words. They can make your winter warm. And your summers cold. Thanks Afaque for the honor. My lips have carved one of the widest smiles.. in years.
*And I shall resume my blog-role in full swing , January onwards. Its Christmas,New Year and Resolution time. Once again bring forth your palms and swear. Run to a gift shop and buy a New Year Card. Or look for socks containing gifts. No matter what you do, just remain happy. That's really all you gotta do.
Ciao.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
..Of Bombs, bullets, blood and break
** First things first. The Mumbai carnage has completely knocked me off. My favorite place, going all bloody, turning so ugly. A bunch of brain-washed youths, went berserk and brought the Momma--I--won't--sleep city to a standstill. The majestic Taj Hotel, that orange-domed beauty.. home to those pigeons..the dream elements that complete the picture of Mumbai. If you were ever to dream of Mumbai, pigeons would come there...flying and pecking on the grains strewn on the ground before the Gateway of India. Now that orange globe is all charred. From being an eyecandy to an eyesore. It's has been a disastrous metamorphosis. And all that brought about in some 48 hours!! I was so shocked by the whole development that I remained glued to the TV the whole day. For the first time in my life, I prayed for the death of someone. Yes. Call me a shrimp for that. But I want those terrorists dead. I know I am not the one with the gun in his hands. I, for that matter don't even have the power to sustain the recoil. But I am angry. And proper anger is all you need to hold a gun, for the right reasons.
** Exams were on. And the computer center remained occupied all through the day. Given that I had played truant and had killed time while all were pulling every last bit of hair out of their scalps, I had tons of notes to go through. In limited time, I had unlimited things to do. But I managed to do something, somehow. A friend of mine often reminds me of a way to turn even a dead fish into a pro- swimmer. When you know that an alligator is after you in the pool, you automatically start to swim!!!
** Home, here I come. On 2nd December, I am all set to dash to my place ( Ok. Don't laugh. It takes 33 hours by train. Every journey is supposed to end.) . I got to meet mom, dad and friends. I am very much a momma's kid. I pester her for money. I buy vegetables and all the groceries while I am around. There is a fun in doing that.
** It's quite possible that I might not be around to blog or converse on Orkut, this december. But, I hope that I won't be forgotten. Some might even miss me!! ( See..that beam on your face..!!).
Till then go for a different movie all-together. This theatre is closed because the owner hasn't paid his taxes and is absconding. Probably I would resurface when the time is right.
Chao. Have a nice time.
** Exams were on. And the computer center remained occupied all through the day. Given that I had played truant and had killed time while all were pulling every last bit of hair out of their scalps, I had tons of notes to go through. In limited time, I had unlimited things to do. But I managed to do something, somehow. A friend of mine often reminds me of a way to turn even a dead fish into a pro- swimmer. When you know that an alligator is after you in the pool, you automatically start to swim!!!
** Home, here I come. On 2nd December, I am all set to dash to my place ( Ok. Don't laugh. It takes 33 hours by train. Every journey is supposed to end.) . I got to meet mom, dad and friends. I am very much a momma's kid. I pester her for money. I buy vegetables and all the groceries while I am around. There is a fun in doing that.
** It's quite possible that I might not be around to blog or converse on Orkut, this december. But, I hope that I won't be forgotten. Some might even miss me!! ( See..that beam on your face..!!).
Till then go for a different movie all-together. This theatre is closed because the owner hasn't paid his taxes and is absconding. Probably I would resurface when the time is right.
Chao. Have a nice time.
Monday, November 17, 2008
On "losing" and "winning" ..
It has been a busy time for me. Packed with daily bull-shit, diurnal chores and overnight slogging out and mugging. Obviously, in these terrible times of grime and sweat, the "bloglobe" ( a new word??) got left out. But, now I am back, at least for a while to keep turning the wheel. There are some stories to be told, again in bits and shreds. But, tales for tomorrows. Today, its sermon time. Not teaching per se, but some thoughts strewn on the fabric of life. Here I go jotting. And you? Well, if you have come this far, I hope you would go a li'l further.
The title itself is a giveaway. "Winning" / "Losing". The two proverbial verbs that have had the world reeling and vying to pull each others pants down. Everyone trying to outpace his opponents. Grab collars, warm palms, swear, abuse, curse, sweat, conspire, reach for your sickle, clench your fist, slit throats.... Victory. Whatever it takes. Wherever it takes. Whatever it means.
Loss. Absence. Sweat gone in vain. Hopes flung brutally to the ground. Dreams shattered. Jibes of the cruel world. Evil smile of the victorious. Stupid, malicious consolations coming from happy-deep-within-but trying-to-be-sorry people, your conscious attempts to hide yourself from the world. a bitter pill to gulp. We put so many things at stake that losing becomes a disaster.
Whenever I lose something, I feel small. I feel insignificant. Coz, in your state of loss, the world acts cold and leaves you to your own elements. Coz, then, even your most loved ones look at you with unforgiving, accusing eyes.
.............................................................................................
I have seen many defeats in my little life. You can say that my journey has been stuffed right up to my neck with tears, moans and moments of bitterness. And so ,few have savored victory in a way , I have. Coz, a victory only tastes sweet after you have had enough of chillies. Tell you what, try to lose. Sometimes willingly. For that smile on the victor's face. For that look of relief, for that sweet bow the lips carve after moment of victory arrives. For that joy which a prolonged wait for victory holds in itself. For that tapped frill in the expectation that a win is possible even after you lose most of the time . Lose. Believe me , you would only emerge a winner that way.
At least, I did.
The title itself is a giveaway. "Winning" / "Losing". The two proverbial verbs that have had the world reeling and vying to pull each others pants down. Everyone trying to outpace his opponents. Grab collars, warm palms, swear, abuse, curse, sweat, conspire, reach for your sickle, clench your fist, slit throats.... Victory. Whatever it takes. Wherever it takes. Whatever it means.
Loss. Absence. Sweat gone in vain. Hopes flung brutally to the ground. Dreams shattered. Jibes of the cruel world. Evil smile of the victorious. Stupid, malicious consolations coming from happy-deep-within-but trying-to-be-sorry people, your conscious attempts to hide yourself from the world. a bitter pill to gulp. We put so many things at stake that losing becomes a disaster.
Whenever I lose something, I feel small. I feel insignificant. Coz, in your state of loss, the world acts cold and leaves you to your own elements. Coz, then, even your most loved ones look at you with unforgiving, accusing eyes.
.............................................................................................
I have seen many defeats in my little life. You can say that my journey has been stuffed right up to my neck with tears, moans and moments of bitterness. And so ,few have savored victory in a way , I have. Coz, a victory only tastes sweet after you have had enough of chillies. Tell you what, try to lose. Sometimes willingly. For that smile on the victor's face. For that look of relief, for that sweet bow the lips carve after moment of victory arrives. For that joy which a prolonged wait for victory holds in itself. For that tapped frill in the expectation that a win is possible even after you lose most of the time . Lose. Believe me , you would only emerge a winner that way.
At least, I did.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
An Old Man's letter
This is not the first of the string of the letters I have written for you, written to you. Nor is it any different in its content. If I carefully search the stack of papers lying in the drawers , I am sure I would find at least a thousand of them gathering dust in there and aging. Nothing has changed. This boy is same and the girl is same. Perhaps there is a gradation based on the “yellowish” tinge on these letters that has intensifed over the years. Some letters are more brittle and too old to last another sad season. From each issues the same smell of young love. The same old lines, oozing of boyish restlessness and ready-to-take-world-by-storm dreams fill all of them. What should set this one apart is perhaps the way of narration. I am not so young now. Back then, I didn’t find it necessary to jot how I caught a glimpse of you and how you never left me from there. You followed me everywhere. In my dreams, in my wide-eyed meetings, in my games, in my tense moments of truth and lies. Practically everywhere. Like half of my colleagues, even I found you in school. One thing about school romances. They always stay green in your memories. Now, when I lay my back on my Lazyboy and see my grandson hovering around the house , pestering his mom for pocket money or her persuading him to eat at least something, I relive all my moments. Even I was a tough child to tend to. I never found anything too sumptuos and hid the pieces of bread in the crevices of the sofa. I am sorry. Back then I never maintained a notebook… I didn’t have the faintest idea that some 30 years hence , an old man would sit in his courtyard and reminesce. I don’t remember the date. But the scene is vivid to this day. You, like all those Hollywood sweeties, entered the room with an air of nervousness. I was biting my nails and foolishly looking here and there. Call it chance or a boy’s knack of spotting lovelies, I spotted you. My eyes followed you all the way and they did that pretty fearlessly. But once you took your seat and got settled, you too looked around , only to meet my whacky-onlooker’s eyes. But I just couldn’t get them off you. I nearly got myself killed.
It has been years and I haven’t heard a single sentence , no not even a broken one, addressed to me. When we bumped across each other, I was too afraid to begin the proceedings. I have a feeling you were no less uncomfortable. Why is it the most difficult to talk when you know all you have got to do is just start with a “hello”? Some say that “sorry” is the hardest word. My money is on “Hi” and “hello”s.
And now you have been silenced forever. I can’t even eavesdrop your silent conversations with yourself. I would make an exit without a single syllable of yours to treasure. Between you and me , lies a big fat book. Blank pages are all that exist. Thoughts and murmurs , raring and crying loud to be written upon these pages. But who would write them? You are dead. And even I am on my way to funeral.
I know , these letters , are all that this world would know about us. And one day, even these would succumb to the moths. But what can we do? Sometimes, silence is not very golden.
I am ending my cameo tonight. Enough of this yearning. Enough of pain and just too much of waiting. I hope, that one day when someone stumbles upon this letter, he would know that being silent is not always the right thing to do. He would make a dash to his love and let her know. Good-bye, World. I am done.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
some mirage ahead?
Again, I would hide things from you all. Only I would seep in my word that the sun is smiling at me now. All of a sudden, good times have returned and I can't help but beam.
* I have made out with two best friends of mine. No explanations, no grudges. I think that's the perfect way to patch up. When you grope for answers as to why things went brown in the first place, you jeopardize your present. It's light for both sides if old things are not dug out.
*I have started clicking pictures for the forthcoming competition in my college. Call it mean or whatever, I hovered around the shanties that look like mushrooms bordering the glassy building of my college. The children were so happy to pose.... some of them even risked breaking bones trying to be shot midway their flight ( a jump from a high area..)... It was a revelation for me.
* Bleh:D got a new cell with a 3.2 mp cam integrated with it. Calls for a celebration....not because we are party-mongers.. ( Yep, I am) but chiefly coz she is the one who could click and click if she were to be left to her own devices. Because she googles the best pics from the redundant string of snaps spilled on the web-floor here.
*Deepawli is at a stone's throw and I am on a high. I just love the festival. Although I left bursting crackers long ago.. still memories of it are very green, even to this day. I pestered my father to shell out a good amount so that I could have my crackers well in advance. ( The list was always ready.... !!!). Once he gave in and the crackers were home... I laid the whole arsenal in the sun and safeguarded it from other zealous and jealous children in my locality. I find the encasing of crackers very colorful. It always made me sad to see the tatters strewn everywhere , the following morning. A lull was felt after the boisterous night of the diwali. For all the smoke and noise, Diwali remains my favorite. Light and sweets do the trick for me.
*I am zeroing on a cam. It has caught my fancy.It has a huge line of takers...and with the Diwali rush , I am afraid that I might not be able to grab it on time. I am down on currency and I have to wait for Dad to melt again. A child never stops troubling his dad.
---------------------------------------------
Vivek ....once stumbled across a piece...and I had kinda shrugged my shoulders on listening to it ,then.
"After a while u learn that even sunshine burns
If you get too much
And you plan your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone
To bring you flowers"
but now, I am afraid that this might be true. From whatever li'l I know about life, bad things always strike back. and with vengeance. I know I am enjoying my bit in the sun. But am I in for a dry period soon? Pray for me that my back survives the fiery globe. the rays always leave me tanned:(
* I have made out with two best friends of mine. No explanations, no grudges. I think that's the perfect way to patch up. When you grope for answers as to why things went brown in the first place, you jeopardize your present. It's light for both sides if old things are not dug out.
*I have started clicking pictures for the forthcoming competition in my college. Call it mean or whatever, I hovered around the shanties that look like mushrooms bordering the glassy building of my college. The children were so happy to pose.... some of them even risked breaking bones trying to be shot midway their flight ( a jump from a high area..)... It was a revelation for me.
* Bleh:D got a new cell with a 3.2 mp cam integrated with it. Calls for a celebration....not because we are party-mongers.. ( Yep, I am) but chiefly coz she is the one who could click and click if she were to be left to her own devices. Because she googles the best pics from the redundant string of snaps spilled on the web-floor here.
*Deepawli is at a stone's throw and I am on a high. I just love the festival. Although I left bursting crackers long ago.. still memories of it are very green, even to this day. I pestered my father to shell out a good amount so that I could have my crackers well in advance. ( The list was always ready.... !!!). Once he gave in and the crackers were home... I laid the whole arsenal in the sun and safeguarded it from other zealous and jealous children in my locality. I find the encasing of crackers very colorful. It always made me sad to see the tatters strewn everywhere , the following morning. A lull was felt after the boisterous night of the diwali. For all the smoke and noise, Diwali remains my favorite. Light and sweets do the trick for me.
*I am zeroing on a cam. It has caught my fancy.It has a huge line of takers...and with the Diwali rush , I am afraid that I might not be able to grab it on time. I am down on currency and I have to wait for Dad to melt again. A child never stops troubling his dad.
---------------------------------------------
Vivek ....once stumbled across a piece...and I had kinda shrugged my shoulders on listening to it ,then.
"After a while u learn that even sunshine burns
If you get too much
And you plan your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone
To bring you flowers"
but now, I am afraid that this might be true. From whatever li'l I know about life, bad things always strike back. and with vengeance. I know I am enjoying my bit in the sun. But am I in for a dry period soon? Pray for me that my back survives the fiery globe. the rays always leave me tanned:(
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sailing in between extremes
*sobs* the holidays are over. Abhiket would be heading back to Kolkata and all that partying and purposelessly hanging around would meet the full-stop. We fished every visitable corner in Mumbai and like always, the air down here didn't disappoint us. I think Mumbai survives , wtf it even scurries ahead, simply because it keeps changing. It is speedy, lustrous as well as lacklustre. Mumbai is gruesome for logs. Out here you have to make haste even if you have all the time in the world for things. People would run around to catch locals even when it is scheduled 1o mins. hence. They would alight midway, dangerously tossing themselves, while they know they would have one minute of halt soon. Mumbai respects turbulence. If you are slow, it is wise to head home.
*Mumbai is spanking clean. It is full of stench as well.
*Mumbai is awfully rich. It is precariously poor as well.
*Mumbai is serene and beautiful. Esp.the shimmering sea and the wind. But at places it is very ugly. Your eyes burn at such sights.
At times you would think that a lifetime in Mumbai is not enough to explore. Facing the sea and feeling the wind across my face, I grimaced that my whole life would be blown away in one blink. The sea is so vast that everything seems very mundane before it. The mumbai skyline seems to be a spot on the cheek of eternity ( *plagiarism!!!). Also, speed is not always welcome for me . A pause, at times, is the need of the hour. But here...you got no rest.
*Mumbai is stylish. Sprawling malls and a cool crowd. But visit the flea markets. Style can come cheap.
Mumbai is a marriage of opposites. It is a supreme example of oxymoron. Heck!! It is awfully awesome.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
back from the hiatus!!
Sorry people....I kept to my blanket for this long. I was not sick or preoccupied. I ran out of fuel and the drive to keep writing here. Partly because I have few readers and I don't like my efforts going down the drain. It's wrong to expect my writings hog the limelight... but words are costly things. They need their oxygen to survive.
Internet is very humbling. In the end, I would have a great degree.. a cool gf ( I hope).. smart cash..still I would be a nobody. An entity, few would be aware of, a personality who would seldom be read and much more poorly heard. Recently I was going through the blog of one of the super-famous Bollywood actor and I was taken aback. Even if he sneezes, he gets a 1000 electronic hankies to wipe his nose. I don't think most of us are less special than he is. Most of us have excelled in the fields we charted for ourselves, we have time for our loved ones ( at least we try to make up for it in our own ways!!) ..we have had our place in the sun. The glory and shimmer have embraced us too..though those moments were way too short. I don't know whether anonymity or being commonplace is a curse..but being on top and in spotlight is a recipe for future disaster. Every sun sets at the end of the day. My skills might not blossom as they would have under the warmth of several onlookers. May be they would die in the lack of appreciation. But I won't be a fallen hero. I would be like a soldier who fought well, even won the war but the king walked away with the glory ( only to earn infamy in future!!!). I would have to pay the price of anonymity but when stakes are high, gambling is much more fun. The roulette of fate rolls on. The winners and the famous near bankruptcy and in one stroke all their cash is gone.
Anyways, I would return back and join the stream again.
Abhiket is in pune. And I am wafting in the breeze thinking about the sunny days lying ahead. There are places to go.. we would be earning precious moments. The trunk of memory would collect some really cool Kodak anecdotes. The only pickle in the whole menu is that Abhiket has left his handy-cam in his house itself. Surely there's no escape from Murphy's law!!
Exams are over. Time is lying junk and rotting. I have no idea how I am gonna utilize//fritter the days.
That is the thing with exams. It is such a grind to run into them and come out smiling. But once they are over, the mind is so used to the struggle that the after-days seem very drab and event-less!!!
Why is it so silent after the storm is over?
Internet is very humbling. In the end, I would have a great degree.. a cool gf ( I hope).. smart cash..still I would be a nobody. An entity, few would be aware of, a personality who would seldom be read and much more poorly heard. Recently I was going through the blog of one of the super-famous Bollywood actor and I was taken aback. Even if he sneezes, he gets a 1000 electronic hankies to wipe his nose. I don't think most of us are less special than he is. Most of us have excelled in the fields we charted for ourselves, we have time for our loved ones ( at least we try to make up for it in our own ways!!) ..we have had our place in the sun. The glory and shimmer have embraced us too..though those moments were way too short. I don't know whether anonymity or being commonplace is a curse..but being on top and in spotlight is a recipe for future disaster. Every sun sets at the end of the day. My skills might not blossom as they would have under the warmth of several onlookers. May be they would die in the lack of appreciation. But I won't be a fallen hero. I would be like a soldier who fought well, even won the war but the king walked away with the glory ( only to earn infamy in future!!!). I would have to pay the price of anonymity but when stakes are high, gambling is much more fun. The roulette of fate rolls on. The winners and the famous near bankruptcy and in one stroke all their cash is gone.
Anyways, I would return back and join the stream again.
Abhiket is in pune. And I am wafting in the breeze thinking about the sunny days lying ahead. There are places to go.. we would be earning precious moments. The trunk of memory would collect some really cool Kodak anecdotes. The only pickle in the whole menu is that Abhiket has left his handy-cam in his house itself. Surely there's no escape from Murphy's law!!
Exams are over. Time is lying junk and rotting. I have no idea how I am gonna utilize//fritter the days.
That is the thing with exams. It is such a grind to run into them and come out smiling. But once they are over, the mind is so used to the struggle that the after-days seem very drab and event-less!!!
Why is it so silent after the storm is over?
Monday, September 15, 2008
the past catching up-- 1
people, there are lot many things happening all around me. Commonwealth Youth games( some 26 days away...hell..I am so bad at calculations!!); repair of roads ( ain't very likely to happen..now with pebbles and rubble all around, it looks all the more worse..), the clearing up of shanties and roadside fruit vendors.. and the most troubling of all : The Delhi blasts ( nowadays ... there are always pluralities existing in their number...the miscreants aren't satisfied with one thud and boom...).
Also, the blog got rechristened, and revamped in a tinge of placid blue. I am in love with blue( Gives me blues... ahh no!!). . I am hooked to the blogger but I must admit that I am not very fond of templates here....
OK, now I must return to where I intended to start from. I have a bad habit of thinking. Doing nothing but lazing around with a thought playing in my mind. Always giving you a feel that I am at peace when deep within I am as turbulent as a torpedo. Couple that with a stack of pages and I would jot unnecessary stuff. The lines may come out good or terrible. But they really won't make any sense. Well, at least to you. I have been waging a war with myself. Its like a turncourt going on inside. One part says," Go and Talk. Do something. What you waitin' for? Things are not meant to last this way. If you are ending something, do it properly. Give it the end, it deserves." Other part insists on keeping numb and drifting with the tide of the times. Good things too, have not been far behind. Good people have turned the sun ( for a change !!) on my life. And pretty much like a sunflower, I am basking in it. Not knowing or perhaps trying to ignore the fact that the sun sets someday. Then the yellow flower droops and goes down. But while I am out there in the sunny times, I would soothe any on-looker. That is one promise I made to all my fellow travellers. Let not the light , but the will , guide us ahead. The sun can't be trusted. It would go down. And the night is always dark. We have our mutual joys to buoy us high in the sky of life. Keep floating, all of you.
So now? This time on, I am in an old and forgotten territory. I trespass here quite often. I overstay but I have never been stopped from doing that. So prolonging my stay has become my habit and also a mode of killing time. It is the luxury I have. Else the time is busy killing me. Minute by minute. Second by second.
I am cruising ahead notwithstanding the long queue of people vying to pull me down , dark situations vouching for my fall....Like Frost, even I have got promises to keep. Promises I made to myself long ago. Promises, I never intended to, was forced to make , to my loved ones. Ages ago. If not for these senile promises of mine , I have to just move for the sake of moving. Staying at one place is an open invitation for the evil forces to run all over you. You gotta make these creatures toil . If eventually they would catch me, why not make them sweat and pant for breath. They getting me easily would rob me of all the fun!!
Many of you won't be knowing that my caravan got rolling after I joined a boarding school in grade sixth. Before that I was gathering stocks of food , barrel of liquor and other ingredients that I thought would last long enough. Enough to see me through the whole distance. I thought I had them aplenty and once laden I won't need to stop and load myself again. Burdened with hope and some apprehension and fear, which perhaps every traveler setting on a journey feels, I stepped on the road. A road that looked straight then but made too many turns as I moved on. Ok, so the time at school went flying. Like all the good times, they flitted like the supersonic planes. Just saw them going, I never got to hear any sound. Journeys are deceptive. You start happily. You look around and see beaming fellow travellers. You see all of them mingling and leaning over their loved ones talking and chatting. You have a feeling that the long journey is just a matter of time. You got people to talk to, you got a cosy seat to rest. You got food and everything. Then gradually things start getting real. People start drifting apart. Journeys of some end before you. And some get tired and leave the caravan midway. The stock starts getting depleted and you become fed up with sleeping the whole day through. What do you do then? I don't have an answer. Perhaps bid your time and just pray that the train doesn't run out of fuel. So as the clocks ticked and I neared the first milestone, I knew it was time for many of my fellow students to get down and bid me farewell. I saw their disappearing torsos. Their alighted and waving hands got lost in the crowd. I had to move on. And I did.
Funny how, people forget faces of these small bundles of joy. The fellow travellers who dilute the boredom of the travel by their sheer presence. I admit, right now, I am putting my best foot forward and walking ....alone down the road. But I look back often. Not for remembering the grease and the gruesome details of my travels , but for cudgeling my brain so that I can remember those hideous faces. I still ain't able to recall. Amnesia, ah, it sucks.
P.S : Don't read anything. But please give a round of applause to Palvi who is as close it gets to spontaneity. An unfeigned and unadulterated source of laughter and joy. And then three other suns in my life, my sis Pallavi, my best friend ( Fiend?) Abhiket and Shruti ( The name spells her!! ). I am smiling you four. Thank you. Palvi spruced my blog all ends up:p. and actually ended up getting bored doing it...:P
This might be the first bead in a string of recounting-n-writing posts. Well, lemme see. As of now, it stands that way.
( Thanks should always be coated with a corny line. Ahh, just a passing, naughty thought!!)
I forgot Saurabh? I, be damned!!
OK, now I must return to where I intended to start from. I have a bad habit of thinking. Doing nothing but lazing around with a thought playing in my mind. Always giving you a feel that I am at peace when deep within I am as turbulent as a torpedo. Couple that with a stack of pages and I would jot unnecessary stuff. The lines may come out good or terrible. But they really won't make any sense. Well, at least to you. I have been waging a war with myself. Its like a turncourt going on inside. One part says," Go and Talk. Do something. What you waitin' for? Things are not meant to last this way. If you are ending something, do it properly. Give it the end, it deserves." Other part insists on keeping numb and drifting with the tide of the times. Good things too, have not been far behind. Good people have turned the sun ( for a change !!) on my life. And pretty much like a sunflower, I am basking in it. Not knowing or perhaps trying to ignore the fact that the sun sets someday. Then the yellow flower droops and goes down. But while I am out there in the sunny times, I would soothe any on-looker. That is one promise I made to all my fellow travellers. Let not the light , but the will , guide us ahead. The sun can't be trusted. It would go down. And the night is always dark. We have our mutual joys to buoy us high in the sky of life. Keep floating, all of you.
So now? This time on, I am in an old and forgotten territory. I trespass here quite often. I overstay but I have never been stopped from doing that. So prolonging my stay has become my habit and also a mode of killing time. It is the luxury I have. Else the time is busy killing me. Minute by minute. Second by second.
I am cruising ahead notwithstanding the long queue of people vying to pull me down , dark situations vouching for my fall....Like Frost, even I have got promises to keep. Promises I made to myself long ago. Promises, I never intended to, was forced to make , to my loved ones. Ages ago. If not for these senile promises of mine , I have to just move for the sake of moving. Staying at one place is an open invitation for the evil forces to run all over you. You gotta make these creatures toil . If eventually they would catch me, why not make them sweat and pant for breath. They getting me easily would rob me of all the fun!!
Many of you won't be knowing that my caravan got rolling after I joined a boarding school in grade sixth. Before that I was gathering stocks of food , barrel of liquor and other ingredients that I thought would last long enough. Enough to see me through the whole distance. I thought I had them aplenty and once laden I won't need to stop and load myself again. Burdened with hope and some apprehension and fear, which perhaps every traveler setting on a journey feels, I stepped on the road. A road that looked straight then but made too many turns as I moved on. Ok, so the time at school went flying. Like all the good times, they flitted like the supersonic planes. Just saw them going, I never got to hear any sound. Journeys are deceptive. You start happily. You look around and see beaming fellow travellers. You see all of them mingling and leaning over their loved ones talking and chatting. You have a feeling that the long journey is just a matter of time. You got people to talk to, you got a cosy seat to rest. You got food and everything. Then gradually things start getting real. People start drifting apart. Journeys of some end before you. And some get tired and leave the caravan midway. The stock starts getting depleted and you become fed up with sleeping the whole day through. What do you do then? I don't have an answer. Perhaps bid your time and just pray that the train doesn't run out of fuel. So as the clocks ticked and I neared the first milestone, I knew it was time for many of my fellow students to get down and bid me farewell. I saw their disappearing torsos. Their alighted and waving hands got lost in the crowd. I had to move on. And I did.
Funny how, people forget faces of these small bundles of joy. The fellow travellers who dilute the boredom of the travel by their sheer presence. I admit, right now, I am putting my best foot forward and walking ....alone down the road. But I look back often. Not for remembering the grease and the gruesome details of my travels , but for cudgeling my brain so that I can remember those hideous faces. I still ain't able to recall. Amnesia, ah, it sucks.
P.S : Don't read anything. But please give a round of applause to Palvi who is as close it gets to spontaneity. An unfeigned and unadulterated source of laughter and joy. And then three other suns in my life, my sis Pallavi, my best friend ( Fiend?) Abhiket and Shruti ( The name spells her!! ). I am smiling you four. Thank you. Palvi spruced my blog all ends up:p. and actually ended up getting bored doing it...:P
This might be the first bead in a string of recounting-n-writing posts. Well, lemme see. As of now, it stands that way.
( Thanks should always be coated with a corny line. Ahh, just a passing, naughty thought!!)
I forgot Saurabh? I, be damned!!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
stuck!!!
Buses will ruin me one day. Like every other morning , after having my breakfast, I got on the bus that heads straight to the academic building from my hostel. But looks like, I am destined to either miss buses or end up getting hooked in jams (even if I somehow manage to board one...) , all my life.
There was a big ditch in the middle of the road, thanks to the ongoing reconstruction... Result being the never ending queue of cars ( big and small), bikes ( flashy and rugged), cycles ( emphasing that size really matters..to the envy of my eyes, one cyclist even managed to race through the furrow between two standing trucks!! ) and the street flooding devils in yellow and black , the tripods .."Autorikshaws"!!
There isn't much one can do when your luck relishes playing foul games with you. It had rained the whole night before and this morning, I sat on a seat that was wet from inside but looked perfectly dry from the outside. Deceptive looks indeed!! Now I am wearing a wet jeans and am shivering under an AC.
One of my friend had taken to the back seat and he was praying that the jam lasted till eternity. The "why" here has a simple answer..A bus-full of girls was also stuck besides our own ...and my lucky friend was savoring the view to the optimum.
Two thoughts raced across our minds..
1) What if you are with a beautiful girl and it starts raining incessantly.. ( In Pune and Mumbai, that's not an impossibility!! ). Till now, this has never happened to either of us.
2) Being stuck in an elevator with a girl. Now as times have advanced, this dream has faded into oblivion. The apartments have generators to fire capsules up and down. There is an alarm which you can press if such misfortune ( hell, its a fortune !! ) befalls you.
While in a jam, people would droop to any level to pass the time.
.................................................................................................................................
And here again I see, the beauty of jams. No matter if you are a corporate honcho or a young turk or a prospective waste like me...A jam always mellows you.. It brings everyone down to the same level. You have to inhale the smoke if you are on two-wheelers or just listen to numbers in your car .. LUMAX red lights and horns hardly work then.. All you are left to do is to just stay seated and sulk. How humbling!!
I was ruminating and in due time , the driver was busy curbing the vehicle to places of less density of vehicles . He pulled it off and we reached the Institute some 50 minutes late. But we made it.
Where there is a "WHEEL" , there indeed, is a way.
There was a big ditch in the middle of the road, thanks to the ongoing reconstruction... Result being the never ending queue of cars ( big and small), bikes ( flashy and rugged), cycles ( emphasing that size really matters..to the envy of my eyes, one cyclist even managed to race through the furrow between two standing trucks!! ) and the street flooding devils in yellow and black , the tripods .."Autorikshaws"!!
There isn't much one can do when your luck relishes playing foul games with you. It had rained the whole night before and this morning, I sat on a seat that was wet from inside but looked perfectly dry from the outside. Deceptive looks indeed!! Now I am wearing a wet jeans and am shivering under an AC.
One of my friend had taken to the back seat and he was praying that the jam lasted till eternity. The "why" here has a simple answer..A bus-full of girls was also stuck besides our own ...and my lucky friend was savoring the view to the optimum.
Two thoughts raced across our minds..
1) What if you are with a beautiful girl and it starts raining incessantly.. ( In Pune and Mumbai, that's not an impossibility!! ). Till now, this has never happened to either of us.
2) Being stuck in an elevator with a girl. Now as times have advanced, this dream has faded into oblivion. The apartments have generators to fire capsules up and down. There is an alarm which you can press if such misfortune ( hell, its a fortune !! ) befalls you.
While in a jam, people would droop to any level to pass the time.
.................................................................................................................................
And here again I see, the beauty of jams. No matter if you are a corporate honcho or a young turk or a prospective waste like me...A jam always mellows you.. It brings everyone down to the same level. You have to inhale the smoke if you are on two-wheelers or just listen to numbers in your car .. LUMAX red lights and horns hardly work then.. All you are left to do is to just stay seated and sulk. How humbling!!
I was ruminating and in due time , the driver was busy curbing the vehicle to places of less density of vehicles . He pulled it off and we reached the Institute some 50 minutes late. But we made it.
Where there is a "WHEEL" , there indeed, is a way.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
A world sans girls!!!
Time to kick off , the post-season again. A new month, the same stale ideas. I would try to be different and so I am looking for a perfect start. A very good friend of mine has just started the blogging business ( by business, I don't necessarily mean business per se as in earning through blog..Yuckkkkk!! ). He is just new to this part of the world. I was going through his first post ( having excerpts from Paulo Coelho's book, Eleven minutes). I won't go into the meticulous description of what this book is all about ... it should suffice, perhaps, to let the un-initiated people know that the story celebrates the lamentation and quest of a prostitute for the ever eluding eleven minutes of exaltation ( Orgasm.. ) . Now here, Coelho tells how that homo-sapiens were not classified as male/female to start with and consequently courtship and the following strife had yet not started troubling the men. How the males and females got seperated and the all hell let loose from the day itself!!
Now my wise friend ( am not being sarcastic.. ok, "retrospective" is the better word!!), lying on his cosy bed , with all the time in the world to squander , started thinking what a world it would have been were there no girls on this planet. ( Let me add...were there no girls in the whole universe..else men would flock in swarms to that "gal-paradise"). He believes that there would have been no strifes, no heart-breaks and no Devdas like crying babies in the hostel rooms.. ( Although the very night , I pinged him and my friend was ruing that he had no girl in his life and it was so much boring. He is experiencing a vacancy , an emptiness ..He wants someone to share his thoughts with.. !!). I have nothing very different to offer.
But , believe me, It kinda horrifies me to imagine a world sans girls. It would be so much drab and boring. For most of us, Girls are the fuel which keep us living with a zeal and vigour.... a will to look good, a desire to dress like human-beings, an urge to bathe, apply cologne and what not. Besides Girls are very considerate in listening to poorly crafted and an even more dismally told jokes..They always laugh, you know. Boys are so cruel in dispelling bad humour. On the other hand, the fairer sex is kind enough. They laugh no matter how damn silly jokes are. There is no better sight than that of a beaming lass. The picturesque scenery, the landscapes, the malls etc. are a distant second. Girls are not a crutch for a boy. They resemble walls. You lean on them when you are going weak and you are tired of standing, you write on them when you are out of paper, you kick them when you are angry, you cuddle up to them when you want to hide your tears, you punch them a with tightly clenched fist when you want to be humbled, they are something you hold on to when the fall seems imminent. Girls are a storehouse of power yet they would mellow for you. They are a sword which can rip you apart but they keep to their scabbards. Girls are the songs, the dance, the happiness and the tear drops of life. You take them aside and half of the emotions on earth won't have come into being. For whom would you fight fervently, for whom would you like to be strong or at least act as one.. ? For whom would you seldom turn to literature and pry up for romantic lines? For whom would you scribble a page of lines ( you never means:d) ...from whom would you learn fortitude and the ability to stay grounded even when you have all the grace to take on the world??
Girls are a realisation that something exists outside the realm of cynical dome which encircles us. They were originally designed to stay cool,composed,innocent and serene. Any digression we see is purely an output of this unruly world. If she doesn't mould herself, we might even get bulldozers to get her down. Walls have to be tough, you know. I have a feeling ( and I might be wronged , but still I would say it) that she only turns nasty when she has seen enough murkiness from the world. She wants to turn a page and don a different role. She wants to show the world that everything breaks beyond the scope of reconstruction if you continue hammering it.
Come to think of it.. You are tired after a hard day of working-like-a-dog session and there are no girls to stare ( okay, ogling!! Men are allowed pitfalls. Sorry ladies.) at..there is no one who has prepared a mouth-watering delicacy for you when you return back home.. there is no one to whom you can talk to for hours without making any sense ( How much of that is left after a gruesome day?)...
If you walk a road in a world without girls.. you are attending a funeral. You can no longer walk blind-folded as no one would forward his feet for removing the thorns strewn on your way. When you think of replacing girls, think of a better substitute. I cannot fathom a better species. Definitely the new beings stepping in their shoes won't be half as beautiful ( and by beauty I don't mean only.. her eyes and locks..everything including her inner beauty).
My body temperature is already registering a couple of degrees above the normal and I am feeling feverish and frail. I don't want to aggravate my sickness by imagining such horrendous things...There aren't many tranquilizers that can cure me of such acute mental fever. How can a void left by a girl be ever filled? All tragedies have resulted cause we haven't still found a way to recover from that loss, the pain you get when your sweetie goes away.
The mercury is rising. Perhaps certain chemicals have gone berserk after the passage of such a ridiculous thought. Get well soon, me. For that Girls , you would have to stay put, right here on this planet. And pray for me, who knows?
Now my wise friend ( am not being sarcastic.. ok, "retrospective" is the better word!!), lying on his cosy bed , with all the time in the world to squander , started thinking what a world it would have been were there no girls on this planet. ( Let me add...were there no girls in the whole universe..else men would flock in swarms to that "gal-paradise"). He believes that there would have been no strifes, no heart-breaks and no Devdas like crying babies in the hostel rooms.. ( Although the very night , I pinged him and my friend was ruing that he had no girl in his life and it was so much boring. He is experiencing a vacancy , an emptiness ..He wants someone to share his thoughts with.. !!). I have nothing very different to offer.
But , believe me, It kinda horrifies me to imagine a world sans girls. It would be so much drab and boring. For most of us, Girls are the fuel which keep us living with a zeal and vigour.... a will to look good, a desire to dress like human-beings, an urge to bathe, apply cologne and what not. Besides Girls are very considerate in listening to poorly crafted and an even more dismally told jokes..They always laugh, you know. Boys are so cruel in dispelling bad humour. On the other hand, the fairer sex is kind enough. They laugh no matter how damn silly jokes are. There is no better sight than that of a beaming lass. The picturesque scenery, the landscapes, the malls etc. are a distant second. Girls are not a crutch for a boy. They resemble walls. You lean on them when you are going weak and you are tired of standing, you write on them when you are out of paper, you kick them when you are angry, you cuddle up to them when you want to hide your tears, you punch them a with tightly clenched fist when you want to be humbled, they are something you hold on to when the fall seems imminent. Girls are a storehouse of power yet they would mellow for you. They are a sword which can rip you apart but they keep to their scabbards. Girls are the songs, the dance, the happiness and the tear drops of life. You take them aside and half of the emotions on earth won't have come into being. For whom would you fight fervently, for whom would you like to be strong or at least act as one.. ? For whom would you seldom turn to literature and pry up for romantic lines? For whom would you scribble a page of lines ( you never means:d) ...from whom would you learn fortitude and the ability to stay grounded even when you have all the grace to take on the world??
Girls are a realisation that something exists outside the realm of cynical dome which encircles us. They were originally designed to stay cool,composed,innocent and serene. Any digression we see is purely an output of this unruly world. If she doesn't mould herself, we might even get bulldozers to get her down. Walls have to be tough, you know. I have a feeling ( and I might be wronged , but still I would say it) that she only turns nasty when she has seen enough murkiness from the world. She wants to turn a page and don a different role. She wants to show the world that everything breaks beyond the scope of reconstruction if you continue hammering it.
Come to think of it.. You are tired after a hard day of working-like-a-dog session and there are no girls to stare ( okay, ogling!! Men are allowed pitfalls. Sorry ladies.) at..there is no one who has prepared a mouth-watering delicacy for you when you return back home.. there is no one to whom you can talk to for hours without making any sense ( How much of that is left after a gruesome day?)...
If you walk a road in a world without girls.. you are attending a funeral. You can no longer walk blind-folded as no one would forward his feet for removing the thorns strewn on your way. When you think of replacing girls, think of a better substitute. I cannot fathom a better species. Definitely the new beings stepping in their shoes won't be half as beautiful ( and by beauty I don't mean only.. her eyes and locks..everything including her inner beauty).
My body temperature is already registering a couple of degrees above the normal and I am feeling feverish and frail. I don't want to aggravate my sickness by imagining such horrendous things...There aren't many tranquilizers that can cure me of such acute mental fever. How can a void left by a girl be ever filled? All tragedies have resulted cause we haven't still found a way to recover from that loss, the pain you get when your sweetie goes away.
The mercury is rising. Perhaps certain chemicals have gone berserk after the passage of such a ridiculous thought. Get well soon, me. For that Girls , you would have to stay put, right here on this planet. And pray for me, who knows?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
summing up
one more august gone, just like that!!
It has been like any other august, or perhaps a tad different because of a tincture of eerie anecdotes and a bizarre yet enthralling cornucopia of "oh-it-happened-to-you?" like situations. So, brace yourself for a sneak peek into my mad world.
1) College reopened from 1st and there was a lot of running and conundrum for the first week. We were supposed to register for courses and as always I was at my wit's ends figuring out what I really intended to study. Finally the scale tilted heavily in favour of physics courses. Ok, I am no Feynman but physics comes a bit naturally to me. I would not have been blogging were it not for physics. So, physics..thank you.
2) Went on a shopping spree and depleted my bank account to nullity!! Not often do I go berserk like that , but this time I made sure I hit the malls like one of those sleek damsels who throng there everyday, buying nothing. Bought two shirts ( there was a sale going on everywhere!!) and a back-pack which emptied me of every penny. I am like thriving on some 200 rupees from past 5 days and still there are two more days to go. But again humility rises from the dust and pacifies me. What about those little kids on the streets waiting for red-lights to halt the juggernaut of a traffic so that they can stretch their small hands and pester the commuters for money..?? A small girl always comes up to me ( Rather I stumble upon her..) and pops her hand inside the auto-rickshaw with two red-roses. The roses are so crimson that I have fallen in love with the color. I buy roses from her even though I have no one to offer it to!!
3) saw THE DARK KNIGHT 4 times in the multiplex. Still I haven't had enough of it. Heath Ledger was so different in portraying the role that I got hooked to the movie. I hit the screens more often than I hit the books. Only once in my lifetime would this gem of a movie embrace the theaters and I am not the one to rue before my grandchildren about me having missed it!!!
Ledger , wherever you are ...I tell you that no one would ever come even 15 furlongs as near as you ... you darted towards perfection with ferocity. Whoever said that perfection was boring, must be shrugging his shoulders in disbelief. Dead on, Heath.
4) Arpit( my college mate) drove the college bus after the whole crew grew impatient on seeing the key in the ignition for 15 minutes with the driver being gone. Arpit took to the wheels and oh my!! He was so sleek in driving..Was a hell of a ride...
5) latest news!!
Mr. A( don't fret!!)is almost there... talks are on and in almost all probability he would have a gf in about a month's time. The entire gang is so jealous ( by the sheer impossibility of him being with a girl !)
that rumour mills are running overtime. Some say it is a gimmick. I am beaming cause I know everything. R was saying , " Now even A would have a gf???????". Ohh, boy...!!! He has no idea...
It has been like any other august, or perhaps a tad different because of a tincture of eerie anecdotes and a bizarre yet enthralling cornucopia of "oh-it-happened-to-you?" like situations. So, brace yourself for a sneak peek into my mad world.
1) College reopened from 1st and there was a lot of running and conundrum for the first week. We were supposed to register for courses and as always I was at my wit's ends figuring out what I really intended to study. Finally the scale tilted heavily in favour of physics courses. Ok, I am no Feynman but physics comes a bit naturally to me. I would not have been blogging were it not for physics. So, physics..thank you.
2) Went on a shopping spree and depleted my bank account to nullity!! Not often do I go berserk like that , but this time I made sure I hit the malls like one of those sleek damsels who throng there everyday, buying nothing. Bought two shirts ( there was a sale going on everywhere!!) and a back-pack which emptied me of every penny. I am like thriving on some 200 rupees from past 5 days and still there are two more days to go. But again humility rises from the dust and pacifies me. What about those little kids on the streets waiting for red-lights to halt the juggernaut of a traffic so that they can stretch their small hands and pester the commuters for money..?? A small girl always comes up to me ( Rather I stumble upon her..) and pops her hand inside the auto-rickshaw with two red-roses. The roses are so crimson that I have fallen in love with the color. I buy roses from her even though I have no one to offer it to!!
3) saw THE DARK KNIGHT 4 times in the multiplex. Still I haven't had enough of it. Heath Ledger was so different in portraying the role that I got hooked to the movie. I hit the screens more often than I hit the books. Only once in my lifetime would this gem of a movie embrace the theaters and I am not the one to rue before my grandchildren about me having missed it!!!
Ledger , wherever you are ...I tell you that no one would ever come even 15 furlongs as near as you ... you darted towards perfection with ferocity. Whoever said that perfection was boring, must be shrugging his shoulders in disbelief. Dead on, Heath.
4) Arpit( my college mate) drove the college bus after the whole crew grew impatient on seeing the key in the ignition for 15 minutes with the driver being gone. Arpit took to the wheels and oh my!! He was so sleek in driving..Was a hell of a ride...
5) latest news!!
Mr. A( don't fret!!)is almost there... talks are on and in almost all probability he would have a gf in about a month's time. The entire gang is so jealous ( by the sheer impossibility of him being with a girl !)
that rumour mills are running overtime. Some say it is a gimmick. I am beaming cause I know everything. R was saying , " Now even A would have a gf???????". Ohh, boy...!!! He has no idea...
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
missing the bus
I have missed the bus once again. not a great feeling to see it swish past me leaving a trail of smoke behind. from ages ( as far as I remember ..) people have believed that only losers miss buses. but I think the contrary.
I remember a different kinda loser from one movie ( Ok, He finally did something heroic...!! ) with files clutched under his arms ; ogling at some beatnik beauty at the bus stop and traveling from office to office via buses, only to be rejected by the managers again and again. What really did he get from boarding the bus in time? Nothing.
Missing the bus has given me opportunities to venture into different places. Once I ended up spending 3- 4 hours in LANDMARK ( bookstore) after I was left black by the soot of a missed-me-again-sweetie!!. Then, I struck a conversation with a learned old man once after he was left gasping and cursing by the same devil. He told me so much about himself in a gap of one hour. I don't know most of my super friends in such excruciating detail. He was a poet ( no money in poetry and no poetry in money , remember?? ). I picked up this habit of jotting poems from there. Who says only legacy hands you things. Missing the bus can come in handy!!!
watching the bus arrive finally after hours of desperate waiting brings me a joy which is very strange yet so sweet. I would have went on, but the bus may arrive any minute ( again the uncertainty adds spice to the whole anticipation and hope that my rickety overcrowded boulder of a vehicle would arrive ) , so I have to pack up. some people are watching me since half an hour. small kids ( laden with a full-of-books bag are chatting ..) ; office guys are keen on heading home and are betraying relief ( at last )..there is a whole bunch of girls ( ahh..haaa!!!) and they would board too....
and this is the first time , I have blogged @ bus-stop.
what more could I really ask for??
I remember a different kinda loser from one movie ( Ok, He finally did something heroic...!! ) with files clutched under his arms ; ogling at some beatnik beauty at the bus stop and traveling from office to office via buses, only to be rejected by the managers again and again. What really did he get from boarding the bus in time? Nothing.
Missing the bus has given me opportunities to venture into different places. Once I ended up spending 3- 4 hours in LANDMARK ( bookstore) after I was left black by the soot of a missed-me-again-sweetie!!. Then, I struck a conversation with a learned old man once after he was left gasping and cursing by the same devil. He told me so much about himself in a gap of one hour. I don't know most of my super friends in such excruciating detail. He was a poet ( no money in poetry and no poetry in money , remember?? ). I picked up this habit of jotting poems from there. Who says only legacy hands you things. Missing the bus can come in handy!!!
watching the bus arrive finally after hours of desperate waiting brings me a joy which is very strange yet so sweet. I would have went on, but the bus may arrive any minute ( again the uncertainty adds spice to the whole anticipation and hope that my rickety overcrowded boulder of a vehicle would arrive ) , so I have to pack up. some people are watching me since half an hour. small kids ( laden with a full-of-books bag are chatting ..) ; office guys are keen on heading home and are betraying relief ( at last )..there is a whole bunch of girls ( ahh..haaa!!!) and they would board too....
and this is the first time , I have blogged @ bus-stop.
what more could I really ask for??
Sunday, August 17, 2008
why, such a storm of posts??
{ nowadays I write too much. I have ample of time with me for offering crap. In free time, some play and most of us sleep. Some read so that sooner or later SLEEP embraces them. I, for the one, write non-sense and let others churn the sense out of it!!! pretty naughty of me but it is a good exercise for you all. Sometimes finding reason in a holy mess of scrap is the most difficult thing to do.... People, it is time for some serious brainstorming. Be Game.}
So why do I write so much these days?
1) Well, I have nothing much to do as of now. 3rd year in college has just started and the course flow is phlegmatic and quite viscous. I am not reading much of novels either since I have just finished a thick and heavy one ( as in plot). I am drained of everything. Writing is easy. Just type idiotically. If something comes out good, its pure serendipity.
2) I have almost overcome a dire situation in my life. I am so inundated with joy that only words seem to be the outlet. Long held happiness flows in words. Long held sadness fills the tear pools.
3) This is the best way ( for me) to keep a safe distance from unhappiness ( it is lurking to grab me, I can sense it..). If I don't scribble, I would be unhappy again because the idle mind knows no shackles and it invariably guides me to old unhappy memories.
4) because Writing generally comes out good when you are not making any sense. Sometimes a message behind the piece spoils the party . At times, Just Jot and shut your brain--doors.
5) Now comes the murky stuff. I am working on my writing skills. A pro ( I am not, but still!!) would go to any length to accentuate his vocational know-how!! I am working on a novel and some friends have gone through some part of it. They are finding it good. In fact good enough to make a sad man beam, a happy man weep.
please pray that I don't stop it midway . I hope that I would drift with the tide and the novel shall see the red ribbons and speedy reading- sessions.
ah, silly dreams. They make you look stupid, don't they??
So why do I write so much these days?
1) Well, I have nothing much to do as of now. 3rd year in college has just started and the course flow is phlegmatic and quite viscous. I am not reading much of novels either since I have just finished a thick and heavy one ( as in plot). I am drained of everything. Writing is easy. Just type idiotically. If something comes out good, its pure serendipity.
2) I have almost overcome a dire situation in my life. I am so inundated with joy that only words seem to be the outlet. Long held happiness flows in words. Long held sadness fills the tear pools.
3) This is the best way ( for me) to keep a safe distance from unhappiness ( it is lurking to grab me, I can sense it..). If I don't scribble, I would be unhappy again because the idle mind knows no shackles and it invariably guides me to old unhappy memories.
4) because Writing generally comes out good when you are not making any sense. Sometimes a message behind the piece spoils the party . At times, Just Jot and shut your brain--doors.
5) Now comes the murky stuff. I am working on my writing skills. A pro ( I am not, but still!!) would go to any length to accentuate his vocational know-how!! I am working on a novel and some friends have gone through some part of it. They are finding it good. In fact good enough to make a sad man beam, a happy man weep.
please pray that I don't stop it midway . I hope that I would drift with the tide and the novel shall see the red ribbons and speedy reading- sessions.
ah, silly dreams. They make you look stupid, don't they??
Friday, August 15, 2008
blogging freely
15th august, 2008 and I am just back to my temple ( comp. room , what else?). We had a flag hoisting ceremony a few hours back. well, suddenly it occurs to me what being free really means. Cool!!we are kind of accustomed to live life on our own terms .Now, no one dictates us to do this or do that. Things are so drastically different from the 1930s and 40s. Everyday we break some shackles. Everyday someone or the other is breaking all bonds and becoming free. Freedom is a cliche nowadays. It is everywhere. Everyone asserts that he is free. But, I doubt this inflated notion of freedom.
I am not sure what I really think of Independence. To me , it is the most perplexing word in the entire dictionary. The same old devils : independent from whom, from what (but where? ) continue to haunt me. Ok, now you have no one like the Britons resting a baton up your ass but the tormentors are still there. Still, the goons act as Gods. Try to venture out , on 14th february with your Gf and then you would know:) . Now there are new dictators floating freely in the markets. Under their blanket , We deem ourselves to be very powerful. Smokey and Spookey free birds that we are, if someone asks to draw a line , we show him a golden finger ( f... , I am free). Now there aren't any Red clothed, booted rulers on horsebacks flooding our own streets. Now we have scantily clad mistresses. If not out of fear, but surely out of shame , our eyes do get lowered. Now that is how the rulers are supposed to evoke a response, isn't it?
Ok, why am I talking philosophical? ( untouchability is still not a passe. the new outcastEs are the ones who talk sense. Even I have laughed at such Big-talkers...). Philosophy arises when rigidity of thoughts meets a completely earth shattering situation. A few minutes ago, while I was walking my way back to the room , I stopped at a tea-shop to have some biscuits ( Ok, I don't drink tea. My friend does..). A small kid, hardly 12 years old, comes up to me and says "SAHIB, AAP BHI CHAI LENGE?". Obviously he gets a "No" for an answer but the sadness that I have seen on his face isn't the one which arises from a negation. This sadness surely springs from subjugation. The taming of his childhood dreams, the snatching of his play-hours. What more does it take to make him sad? But in an independent country, the rich and the famous are free enough to do that.
I think I would have to revise my whole notion of freedom now. If this is freedom , I shudder to even think what subjugation really was. Freedom has entangled us now. It has blinded us from many things. Just think. What have you ever done that a free man could have done and not regret? Nothing. Freedom , at best is a licence to live irresponsibly and not being asked any questions ( parents?? who art thou???). I am tired of living freely. For God's sake, chain me now before I turn unruly and cause a ruckus. I feel like a tamed lion let loose to poUnce on the circus crowd. I feel wild and unchecked. Ahh, awful to really feel like that.
Always feel free but when you act as one, do it a bit more responsibly.
I am not sure what I really think of Independence. To me , it is the most perplexing word in the entire dictionary. The same old devils : independent from whom, from what (but where? ) continue to haunt me. Ok, now you have no one like the Britons resting a baton up your ass but the tormentors are still there. Still, the goons act as Gods. Try to venture out , on 14th february with your Gf and then you would know:) . Now there are new dictators floating freely in the markets. Under their blanket , We deem ourselves to be very powerful. Smokey and Spookey free birds that we are, if someone asks to draw a line , we show him a golden finger ( f... , I am free). Now there aren't any Red clothed, booted rulers on horsebacks flooding our own streets. Now we have scantily clad mistresses. If not out of fear, but surely out of shame , our eyes do get lowered. Now that is how the rulers are supposed to evoke a response, isn't it?
Ok, why am I talking philosophical? ( untouchability is still not a passe. the new outcastEs are the ones who talk sense. Even I have laughed at such Big-talkers...). Philosophy arises when rigidity of thoughts meets a completely earth shattering situation. A few minutes ago, while I was walking my way back to the room , I stopped at a tea-shop to have some biscuits ( Ok, I don't drink tea. My friend does..). A small kid, hardly 12 years old, comes up to me and says "SAHIB, AAP BHI CHAI LENGE?". Obviously he gets a "No" for an answer but the sadness that I have seen on his face isn't the one which arises from a negation. This sadness surely springs from subjugation. The taming of his childhood dreams, the snatching of his play-hours. What more does it take to make him sad? But in an independent country, the rich and the famous are free enough to do that.
I think I would have to revise my whole notion of freedom now. If this is freedom , I shudder to even think what subjugation really was. Freedom has entangled us now. It has blinded us from many things. Just think. What have you ever done that a free man could have done and not regret? Nothing. Freedom , at best is a licence to live irresponsibly and not being asked any questions ( parents?? who art thou???). I am tired of living freely. For God's sake, chain me now before I turn unruly and cause a ruckus. I feel like a tamed lion let loose to poUnce on the circus crowd. I feel wild and unchecked. Ahh, awful to really feel like that.
Always feel free but when you act as one, do it a bit more responsibly.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
random scribbling
It has been raining like hell in pune. In bits and pieces... seems these drops fall with the sole objective of soaking you wet and then all of a sudden there's a respite. the clouds subside and the sun comes out for a change ( only for a short while ..) the shoes are as wet as clouds and the denims are as dirty as the overflowing drains. there is not much to lean on but coffee, the blogging business, the random jottings and my love of Quantum mechanics.
the rain has brought out a particular event which was lying obscured all this while in some nook of my stupid brain . the contents of this post was not premeditated but rains are like that. they moisten even the driest and the most unfathomable of memories.
I was not so much friends with a boy. we did not get along very well though our parents were good friends. the patriarchs of both the households were college buddies. but we two, the school kids, were all about sticks and blood. ( ok..not so savage but still ...!!) . one Sunday, some 14 boys from my school decided to assemble in Regal playground ( a green and lush playground in my hometown) and have a game of soccer. I am no MARADONA and football is all about skills and running like a hare. unfortunately a log like me walks around the park and just fools around with the mighty sphere ( thy name is football). still, a game with your friends is a tricky way to extract whatever enmity they might be harbouring somewhere in their hearts. tell you what, feelings expressed in a game are never adulterated with manipulations. the emotions that come out when you struggle for the ball and when you shove & push to carry the ball ahead and dart it in the net are real. you know you are playing your heart out. Games make you honest. the envelope of formality is chucked out.
but as it were, the clouds spoiled the party. There is nothing like a soccer game in a wet field. you run( rejuvenated automatically by the drops ), you smear yourself with mud . also sweat and rain drops are an intoxicating combo. the puddles are trampled by the soccer boots. that day, I felt like having a wet game and anyways my house was the nearest to the playground . so I was game for the GAME , come what may.
only one among the the promised quorum turned up. no prizes for guessing. It was him. the foe supremo. I had a ball with me but the crew was not something I could savor. the kinda helplessness we feel when the restaurant is great but the diners are boring. but we decided to carry on with the game. can't explain what went in my head then or how on earth did he acquiesce to my indecent proposal ( hey guys!!! nothing like that...) . perhaps each one of us wanted to prove that we were better than the other. one acted as the goal keeper and other tried his leg ( not hand) at the football. we dived in the channels of water and hit the ball with all the crudeness.
at the end of the game what was left was a sense of remorse and all our ill-feelings were washed away. . the game left us humbled, pacified. I left home with wounds to nurse. the poison that had embittered us had been neutralized.we started playing thinking that we would outsmart each other. then the rain got the better of us.
still when I see small kids playing and diving in the fields, I smile. if not always, then at times, facts are stranger than fiction.
the rain has brought out a particular event which was lying obscured all this while in some nook of my stupid brain . the contents of this post was not premeditated but rains are like that. they moisten even the driest and the most unfathomable of memories.
I was not so much friends with a boy. we did not get along very well though our parents were good friends. the patriarchs of both the households were college buddies. but we two, the school kids, were all about sticks and blood. ( ok..not so savage but still ...!!) . one Sunday, some 14 boys from my school decided to assemble in Regal playground ( a green and lush playground in my hometown) and have a game of soccer. I am no MARADONA and football is all about skills and running like a hare. unfortunately a log like me walks around the park and just fools around with the mighty sphere ( thy name is football). still, a game with your friends is a tricky way to extract whatever enmity they might be harbouring somewhere in their hearts. tell you what, feelings expressed in a game are never adulterated with manipulations. the emotions that come out when you struggle for the ball and when you shove & push to carry the ball ahead and dart it in the net are real. you know you are playing your heart out. Games make you honest. the envelope of formality is chucked out.
but as it were, the clouds spoiled the party. There is nothing like a soccer game in a wet field. you run( rejuvenated automatically by the drops ), you smear yourself with mud . also sweat and rain drops are an intoxicating combo. the puddles are trampled by the soccer boots. that day, I felt like having a wet game and anyways my house was the nearest to the playground . so I was game for the GAME , come what may.
only one among the the promised quorum turned up. no prizes for guessing. It was him. the foe supremo. I had a ball with me but the crew was not something I could savor. the kinda helplessness we feel when the restaurant is great but the diners are boring. but we decided to carry on with the game. can't explain what went in my head then or how on earth did he acquiesce to my indecent proposal ( hey guys!!! nothing like that...) . perhaps each one of us wanted to prove that we were better than the other. one acted as the goal keeper and other tried his leg ( not hand) at the football. we dived in the channels of water and hit the ball with all the crudeness.
at the end of the game what was left was a sense of remorse and all our ill-feelings were washed away. . the game left us humbled, pacified. I left home with wounds to nurse. the poison that had embittered us had been neutralized.we started playing thinking that we would outsmart each other. then the rain got the better of us.
still when I see small kids playing and diving in the fields, I smile. if not always, then at times, facts are stranger than fiction.
Friday, August 8, 2008
"untitled enigma"
what do people normally do? first they introduce themselves and then their thoughts follow . they mesmerize us by their words and bingo they are bang on. before kicking off the flurry of posts on my blog , even I was thinking of giving you( and me!!) some rough idea about myself. turns out, that after offering you quite a bit of bull-shit since some three months, even a crumble of my persona has not been put on sale, not a speck of my idol has been unmasked to allow you to spit on me.
truth is ( universally opined by sages and duds alike) that describing oneself is very difficult. still, I am like an archer in a dark room with his hands on the switch. he knows he is close to the bulls-eye but he is trusting his instincts a tad more than he should. so the lights remain off.
First an overview of what I basically am. again this is my opinion and they can vary just like the waist sizes. if you dissect me well enough and pry me deep , perhaps you might nod with me. for the beginners, well you have nothing but my words to go by. if you can smell my sentences and have honed your skill of gauging someone just by his words... it might help.
okay, here I shoot.
1) I am so unpredictable that even I don't know what I am gonna do the very next second. what follows is a chaos around me .. "what the f...? how could you do this?? were you out of your mind then?" is the usual reaction that issues ( who listens??) . I love to surprise people. when one is surprised, his reactions are very genuine because there is not enough time left to tamper one's response and then present it.
2) I am very self destructive. if you are one of my well-wishers , you would know how hard it is for you to keep me on track. I invariably act contrary to your expectation and all you can do is just pray that I come out clean. I have managed to somehow carve a niche for myself but not before my ass was charred owing to my recklessness. someone once told me "parivesh can't do without his share of fun with adversities.". tell you what, he was damn right.
3) I am a motormouth. if you are my friend , trust me you would be sick of my prolixity. I have a switch somewhere that turns itself on at the slightest pretext of a group discussion. all through my penance ( my parents think I have been very ascetic and have lived on my own coz of my studies... ironical indeed!!!) , my room has been a den. you have issues , come to me. the pedantic group assembles in my room and every pros and cons is taken care of. the rules roll out of my room. the guitars are strummed, people dance, the music overflows...
4) I am a sentimental fool. if you are in my good books , you are in there for life. its not that people close to me have never forsaken me and that I have been successful in gluing them to myself. I have lost some of them and they don't even look at me anymore. but I don't chuck people out from the inner territory. If you have infiltrated , you would be held captive. I weep at times. I think tears are a good medium to wash away your sorrow. although I don't particularly like the stains that are left on the pillow and the sticky bedewed cheeks after I am done with sobbing.
4) I am no saint. I have had reservations about some people being my friend. To be very honest, I don't like them... there is a clash of opinions and I am not the one to keep shut and see my thoughts being culled by stupid hands. I am not hostile , as in that I won't go out of my ways to knock off my enemies and bite their ear off( but my curses suffice..) . I would have loved to be accommodating enough to allow my so called foes some space in my life but unfortunately all of them are control freaks. they would wreck havoc in my life if they were to lay their fingers on it.
5) I am a freelancer. an amateur poet, a not-so-funny clown, a "someone-in-your-life" who can make you normal if your-chips-are-down but only when I am asked to do that.
6) I am an admirer of beauty. beauty hits me in the eye, but if you are haughty it digs a dagger within. I don't drool but hey!! I do cast a look if someone ravishing swings past me. the same old funda "nature-first-attitude next..beauty can wait " applies to me as well.
7) deep within I want to put on some weight and fade some of my melanin ( all because of you girls !!! ) . but I am okay with it if God doesn't decide to swirl his wand and metamorphose me 180 degrees in this life ( very unlikely to happen).
8) I am not a very egoist person but my ego is not an ant hill either. I believe in keeping things simple and straight. I absolutely hate back--stabbing. I am very fine with criticism ( in fact praising me might make me skeptical about your sanity !!!). I like photography though I am certainly not a pro.
9) I love singing and my voice is not very crass ( that is what mom tells me... again I am doubtful.) . I don't pronounce "T" very well. this flaw is not very grave but still it was a botheration when some people chided "PALLIVESH ..how ya doing?". I don't pronounce "T" as "L"!!!!
10) I am an angry fountain. and anger blinds me like fog. but sanity soon comes knocking and I resume. I know hell many of abuses but never treat guys ( not even my enemies to the choicest vocabs). I learnt them as somebody told me that in the meet-and-muster world you can't do without slangs. I smoke , occasionally when I am down but I have never touched alcohol. I don't deem the drinkers to be outcasts or outlaws. it is just that I don't feel like consuming spirit.
11) I am a movie buff. I am not one of those guys who think that watching Hollywood movies is something very stylish. hell!! if the film is nice.. I can watch any movie. for languages other than Hindi and English , I would need subtitles. I have seen THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION at least 24 times and the count is on. I love listening to music and anything coming under the "good melody" category is fine with me. The jazz, the blues, the punk, the hard rock... also I love bollywood songs if they are original ones. Kishore Da is my absolute favorite.
the layers are gradually getting laid before your eyes. savor it or hate it, your choice. the curtain shall unfurl more as the wagon wheel of time keeps turning.
for now, this should suffice. I think by now , you have had enough of it. anyways , read on...
truth is ( universally opined by sages and duds alike) that describing oneself is very difficult. still, I am like an archer in a dark room with his hands on the switch. he knows he is close to the bulls-eye but he is trusting his instincts a tad more than he should. so the lights remain off.
First an overview of what I basically am. again this is my opinion and they can vary just like the waist sizes. if you dissect me well enough and pry me deep , perhaps you might nod with me. for the beginners, well you have nothing but my words to go by. if you can smell my sentences and have honed your skill of gauging someone just by his words... it might help.
okay, here I shoot.
1) I am so unpredictable that even I don't know what I am gonna do the very next second. what follows is a chaos around me .. "what the f...? how could you do this?? were you out of your mind then?" is the usual reaction that issues ( who listens??) . I love to surprise people. when one is surprised, his reactions are very genuine because there is not enough time left to tamper one's response and then present it.
2) I am very self destructive. if you are one of my well-wishers , you would know how hard it is for you to keep me on track. I invariably act contrary to your expectation and all you can do is just pray that I come out clean. I have managed to somehow carve a niche for myself but not before my ass was charred owing to my recklessness. someone once told me "parivesh can't do without his share of fun with adversities.". tell you what, he was damn right.
3) I am a motormouth. if you are my friend , trust me you would be sick of my prolixity. I have a switch somewhere that turns itself on at the slightest pretext of a group discussion. all through my penance ( my parents think I have been very ascetic and have lived on my own coz of my studies... ironical indeed!!!) , my room has been a den. you have issues , come to me. the pedantic group assembles in my room and every pros and cons is taken care of. the rules roll out of my room. the guitars are strummed, people dance, the music overflows...
4) I am a sentimental fool. if you are in my good books , you are in there for life. its not that people close to me have never forsaken me and that I have been successful in gluing them to myself. I have lost some of them and they don't even look at me anymore. but I don't chuck people out from the inner territory. If you have infiltrated , you would be held captive. I weep at times. I think tears are a good medium to wash away your sorrow. although I don't particularly like the stains that are left on the pillow and the sticky bedewed cheeks after I am done with sobbing.
4) I am no saint. I have had reservations about some people being my friend. To be very honest, I don't like them... there is a clash of opinions and I am not the one to keep shut and see my thoughts being culled by stupid hands. I am not hostile , as in that I won't go out of my ways to knock off my enemies and bite their ear off( but my curses suffice..) . I would have loved to be accommodating enough to allow my so called foes some space in my life but unfortunately all of them are control freaks. they would wreck havoc in my life if they were to lay their fingers on it.
5) I am a freelancer. an amateur poet, a not-so-funny clown, a "someone-in-your-life" who can make you normal if your-chips-are-down but only when I am asked to do that.
6) I am an admirer of beauty. beauty hits me in the eye, but if you are haughty it digs a dagger within. I don't drool but hey!! I do cast a look if someone ravishing swings past me. the same old funda "nature-first-attitude next..beauty can wait " applies to me as well.
7) deep within I want to put on some weight and fade some of my melanin ( all because of you girls !!! ) . but I am okay with it if God doesn't decide to swirl his wand and metamorphose me 180 degrees in this life ( very unlikely to happen).
8) I am not a very egoist person but my ego is not an ant hill either. I believe in keeping things simple and straight. I absolutely hate back--stabbing. I am very fine with criticism ( in fact praising me might make me skeptical about your sanity !!!). I like photography though I am certainly not a pro.
9) I love singing and my voice is not very crass ( that is what mom tells me... again I am doubtful.) . I don't pronounce "T" very well. this flaw is not very grave but still it was a botheration when some people chided "PALLIVESH ..how ya doing?". I don't pronounce "T" as "L"!!!!
10) I am an angry fountain. and anger blinds me like fog. but sanity soon comes knocking and I resume. I know hell many of abuses but never treat guys ( not even my enemies to the choicest vocabs). I learnt them as somebody told me that in the meet-and-muster world you can't do without slangs. I smoke , occasionally when I am down but I have never touched alcohol. I don't deem the drinkers to be outcasts or outlaws. it is just that I don't feel like consuming spirit.
11) I am a movie buff. I am not one of those guys who think that watching Hollywood movies is something very stylish. hell!! if the film is nice.. I can watch any movie. for languages other than Hindi and English , I would need subtitles. I have seen THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION at least 24 times and the count is on. I love listening to music and anything coming under the "good melody" category is fine with me. The jazz, the blues, the punk, the hard rock... also I love bollywood songs if they are original ones. Kishore Da is my absolute favorite.
the layers are gradually getting laid before your eyes. savor it or hate it, your choice. the curtain shall unfurl more as the wagon wheel of time keeps turning.
for now, this should suffice. I think by now , you have had enough of it. anyways , read on...
Sunday, August 3, 2008
fag, please!!
it is going to be quite a revelation for some people. I am shuddering while I am jotting this but fidgeting won't help. I have to be true to you. I am a smoker. not a big timer but of a worse variety-- a slave of smoke in times of woe. I don't smoke when I am happy. I do it when the burning end of the cigarette is the only ray of hope I am left with.I have been in and out of my smoking phase. for me, the white parchment with its brown end wraps all the liberation within itself . it does so, until I promise myself "no more smoke-sticks for me..". the promise is issued when my joyous days return. how cheap!!lemme come to the beginning of my end. it was this last day of school. my whole bunch was dissipating to every nook and corner of INDIA. separation was difficult and we were on crossroads. they were decisions to be made and we being tenth graders were not very fit to do it. but the immediate pain emanated from the thought of leaving the school for good. Call it our recklessness or a misplaced method of anxiety-management ; we lit our joy sticks to ease the feeling of never-see-you-again. we sold a piece of our soul to this tiny slim freak, what for? a momentary elation, some minutes of forgetfulness of the fact that we were drifting apart and some cubic of nicotine. then on, every time I grew pensive ; smoke clouded my eyes. "sorrow and smoke are not very good friends. they don't go along well. If you are unhappy, try to burn sadness with cigarette. " but its a merry-go-around. the sorrow always strikes back and the smoke just watches in awe. wet as many smoke-butts as you wish; there is no escape.
okay, I have to admit this. one who smokes , he always has cogent reasons for doing so. for the first 20 fags , he answers himself. once he stands convinced; nicotine takes over. I am not a terrific smoker..( not very charismatic like the Hollywood dudes who produce wriggling and wobbling shapes of smoke but a surreal one. rub the match stick- light the end- puff it off- kinda smoker. ). I left it when I did some reality check, googled for the hazards, when someone made me promise that I won't touch it . I thought that I had left my pack to a point of no return. I forgot that the road always turns. we return because the roads fork in wrong directions. I restarted it again. I knew I was deceiving many but cigarette eats up your conscience. you always think , " who is gonna see here, this nook which is so spidey even for the insects? so light it!! smoke on..." even now when there seems to be no way out, I turn back and the fumes hold me. you would think, what the F.. ? Is he a hollow barrel of will-power?? but smoke burns the oil of will ; to the very last drop. all these promises to my loved ones don't help. when I am in a pickle, I smoke. the fumes even conceal the faces that would die seeing me do that. I don't do that to hurt them. I do that cause I think its an escape route. I know it isn't.. but at times , it is. hell!! I am confused.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
the old ventilator nest
a thousand palaces we may roam,
be it ever so humble... there's no place like home
recently we moved to a new address. my dad has a transferable job and the dead line to vacate was drawing mighty close. I am not very excited about the new place. attachment to the old lanes of the colony, my childhood fellow pranksters, the old house itself is driving me nuts. the new house is some 15 kms away but already I have visited my older address a dozen times no less. I just stand and stare. in holidays we have time to squander. so be it. the old house remains in shambles... It looks like a world war remnant. dirt covers the floor. A sense of emptiness had already started engulfing it long before we left . The old place was a government quarter. Over the ages, the bricks had turned black owing to the mosses. the veneer of paint had withered ...
I had a connection with the colony. though I studied in a boarding school, still some memories have cemented themselves in inaccessible recesses. cricket matches on the ground, the sparrow nest on the ventilator ( though I really never liked the chirping of the fledglings , much) , the staircase ( where we took to the nooks while playing hide and seek... where the bombs were exploded so that one particular uncle especially got annoyed... ),the wind which banged the windows and doors so much that my mother and me always feared that the day the doors and the windows gave in to the reckless wind ; we would be blown away... the mini-functions of republic and independence days where I never got any prizes for coming last ( I ain't any goddamn runner!!!)....
just some days back when the vacating date was 2 or 3 days due, I noticed that mom was clearing up the mess left over after destruction of a nest... I thought that the oldest nest on planet earth had finally succumbed to my mother's relentless frustration..." ahh if my old house goes, so does yours mrs. sparrow... "... I couldn't restrain myself from asking her as to how on earth could she do that...?? a nest can be plundered, ok...but the fledglings?? were they flung out of their nests to die a crashing death...?? my eyes were not in the mood of accepting a silent answer that day. I would be honest enough to admit two facts:
1) probably the first time I had felt that gloomy for anyone so inconspicuous from my life as the sparrows...
2) I had dared to think that of all the persons on earth, my mom could subject the birdies to such pillage.
mother just said , " a new nest should better be broken than seeing a full-fledged one vanish due to loneliness".
evidently a pair of mynas had managed to creep in through the crevices of the crashed window and had just started collecting twigs and straw etc... the ventilator guys had left... the nest lay abandoned. I am tempted to think that they had a premonition that we were about to leave the place... I have no scientific facts to back me but I am happy with my foolish conjecture. Science would take time to rob me of this joy... the pleasure I get from thinking that the sparrows couldn't stand us going...
be it ever so humble... there's no place like home
recently we moved to a new address. my dad has a transferable job and the dead line to vacate was drawing mighty close. I am not very excited about the new place. attachment to the old lanes of the colony, my childhood fellow pranksters, the old house itself is driving me nuts. the new house is some 15 kms away but already I have visited my older address a dozen times no less. I just stand and stare. in holidays we have time to squander. so be it. the old house remains in shambles... It looks like a world war remnant. dirt covers the floor. A sense of emptiness had already started engulfing it long before we left . The old place was a government quarter. Over the ages, the bricks had turned black owing to the mosses. the veneer of paint had withered ...
I had a connection with the colony. though I studied in a boarding school, still some memories have cemented themselves in inaccessible recesses. cricket matches on the ground, the sparrow nest on the ventilator ( though I really never liked the chirping of the fledglings , much) , the staircase ( where we took to the nooks while playing hide and seek... where the bombs were exploded so that one particular uncle especially got annoyed... ),the wind which banged the windows and doors so much that my mother and me always feared that the day the doors and the windows gave in to the reckless wind ; we would be blown away... the mini-functions of republic and independence days where I never got any prizes for coming last ( I ain't any goddamn runner!!!)....
just some days back when the vacating date was 2 or 3 days due, I noticed that mom was clearing up the mess left over after destruction of a nest... I thought that the oldest nest on planet earth had finally succumbed to my mother's relentless frustration..." ahh if my old house goes, so does yours mrs. sparrow... "... I couldn't restrain myself from asking her as to how on earth could she do that...?? a nest can be plundered, ok...but the fledglings?? were they flung out of their nests to die a crashing death...?? my eyes were not in the mood of accepting a silent answer that day. I would be honest enough to admit two facts:
1) probably the first time I had felt that gloomy for anyone so inconspicuous from my life as the sparrows...
2) I had dared to think that of all the persons on earth, my mom could subject the birdies to such pillage.
mother just said , " a new nest should better be broken than seeing a full-fledged one vanish due to loneliness".
evidently a pair of mynas had managed to creep in through the crevices of the crashed window and had just started collecting twigs and straw etc... the ventilator guys had left... the nest lay abandoned. I am tempted to think that they had a premonition that we were about to leave the place... I have no scientific facts to back me but I am happy with my foolish conjecture. Science would take time to rob me of this joy... the pleasure I get from thinking that the sparrows couldn't stand us going...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
wet memories
I lost two wonderful friends to the sea this year. for all their robustness and good hearts they couldn't battle with the waves and.. no poem.. no pile of words can lessen the acute pain all of us felt and still feel whenever their names bristle through our minds.I may write a million corny lines but still a loss would remain a loss..a void in life never gets filled.
I was viewing vibhor's album on orkut &I saw RABI and DAVID's snap. It pricked my conscience; this poem is not written by me. this is written by their divine grace. just see the calmness and innocence on their faces... lets all pray not for them..for they don't need our prayers..they already are blessed ones.. pray for ourselves so that we don't forget them ever..we are human..we are the victims of amnesia..keep smiling you two..amen..
friends of may
........................................
two friends lost their way
on a shimmering summer day
they loved, they played on the heap of hay
they made memories baked in the sun of may...
they grew old and they went weak
many mays passed and so did weeks
the tales untold did whisper
their playgrounds and toys did end in a whimper...
and coins they amassed ,they jingled
and death knells?? ah they lingered...
the friends of may ended their stay
could death do them apart?? ah nay!!
the two souls from may still do play
under the sun on a holiday
the two souls still amble in the park
they still do their jig on the lilt of the lark...
when the swing swirls in tandem
and the sheep are chased at random
I know the two souls are at their play
the two lovely souls ; born and dead in may...
( I wrote this in MAY.. coins : friends
death knells: memories and their souvenirs)
Thursday, July 3, 2008
HISTRIONICS
when people said that cricket is a game of uncertainties, I always chuckled. but beliefs if held very firmly tend to slip away like a handful of sand tightly clutched in our fist. In Vidyapith , our lovely alma mater, the duration of play time was notoriously measly. never did my playful self end up being satisfied after a round of play. like all guys, I wanted to push the game to another level but time always got the better of me. it left me defeated. you were poised to win; the whistle would blow. or if you were making a comeback , it would be time and you would have to call it a day. that was utterly frustrating.
cricket in vidyapith was a big affair. some very good rivalries gave us some very good memories. I still remember
1) SG's thunderbolts,
2) ANUPAM running around the field when hit while the bruise showed itself on his bare skin ( remember him playing shirtless). HE was a wonderful batsman.
3)SG showing his dissatisfaction over the quality of a branded bat after he had hit a four
4)MANI hitting it all over the bowler's head in A team.
5) VIBHOR hitting the shots of his life. Ahh we were in presence of grace!!!
6) myself hitting NISHANT for two consecutive sixes, sweeping DADI ... sometimes fluke is remembered.
7) SHUBH hitting a six of a full toss in a 9-10 match.
8) PRITAM playing the innings of his life in a tournament match. I had seldom seen someone playing that well in A team.
9)VIVEK with a hankie wrapped around his wrist.....and taking some good catches.
10)ANUPAM and SG went to fetch a new ball. after some solid discussion ( seeing the seam and weight and what not!!!) they zeroed on "the lucky" ball. the play resumed but soon came to a screeching halt because the ball had turned oval after one delivery!!
11) but the memory which stands out... which reaffirms my faith in the adage "IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING" is that match behind gymnasium where Keshav got hit for a six of his last ball. no prizes for guessing , the batsman was his holy highness SHRI SHRI VIVEK THAKUR himself.
before that fateful over which made Keshav immortal for all the wrong reasons , he was the most economical of all bowlers that day. 1 ball was left and 7 runs were needed. Keshav gave a wide ball. last ball and 6 runs. sheer impossibility had made me shrug my shoulders ( I was on the other end). keshav bowled; Vivek swirled his bat with brute force .The Rest is history.
cricket in vidyapith was a big affair. some very good rivalries gave us some very good memories. I still remember
1) SG's thunderbolts,
2) ANUPAM running around the field when hit while the bruise showed itself on his bare skin ( remember him playing shirtless). HE was a wonderful batsman.
3)SG showing his dissatisfaction over the quality of a branded bat after he had hit a four
4)MANI hitting it all over the bowler's head in A team.
5) VIBHOR hitting the shots of his life. Ahh we were in presence of grace!!!
6) myself hitting NISHANT for two consecutive sixes, sweeping DADI ... sometimes fluke is remembered.
7) SHUBH hitting a six of a full toss in a 9-10 match.
8) PRITAM playing the innings of his life in a tournament match. I had seldom seen someone playing that well in A team.
9)VIVEK with a hankie wrapped around his wrist.....and taking some good catches.
10)ANUPAM and SG went to fetch a new ball. after some solid discussion ( seeing the seam and weight and what not!!!) they zeroed on "the lucky" ball. the play resumed but soon came to a screeching halt because the ball had turned oval after one delivery!!
11) but the memory which stands out... which reaffirms my faith in the adage "IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING" is that match behind gymnasium where Keshav got hit for a six of his last ball. no prizes for guessing , the batsman was his holy highness SHRI SHRI VIVEK THAKUR himself.
before that fateful over which made Keshav immortal for all the wrong reasons , he was the most economical of all bowlers that day. 1 ball was left and 7 runs were needed. Keshav gave a wide ball. last ball and 6 runs. sheer impossibility had made me shrug my shoulders ( I was on the other end). keshav bowled; Vivek swirled his bat with brute force .The Rest is history.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
the journey begins...
I went to a boarding school after much tussle between my parents. After an exposition of his supreme convincing capabilities, my father finally managed to take my mother in his confidence (with his notion of putting me there for a good purpose). So here we were in midst of a marquee hoisted to host the wards and parents. The lot of my would-be classmates seemed to be a sorry looking heap (except for the one, well…). Every one of us was being cuddled by our mothers. The atmosphere must have been similar to the scene of soldiers and sailors setting off for an unknown land. Tears trickled down. Boys were sobbing. The pleading for toys, bi-cycles, comics etc. had all subsided. Let’s say these went into a hiatus never to resurface again. All that we wanted then was to somehow forestall our admissions and head home. Who wants to leave a kingdom and be a hermit??
We were allotted guides (who had already went through the ordeal and lets say had come out clean. accustomed to schedule, tuned to confinement...Ahh the tamers of the childhood wishes!!). Counseling was tipped to begin 9 am onwards and our flock of bleating kiddos was busy praying that the clocks stopped ticking. We were not ready to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we were about to be stripped bare of all our might. I remember seeing some older guys getting caned for playing extra time; an odd minute extra after playtime and they were taken to task. Hell!! There was a restriction even on our playing tenure...what else does a kid know best??
But the destiny was all chalked out for me. Sometimes there's not much we can do. Let me also add that sometimes we must not do anything purposefully and should let fate play its cards. Had I not resigned to my fate then...my story would have been commonplace. Choices we make shape our life-stories.
So these guides (acting sagacious) took my parents for a walk around my school esp. the dormitories (the dormitory turf presented a sorry scene as compared to bright-as-a -crazy diamond floor of my house). A clutter of clothes lay in the verandah. The washer man was supposed to pack the hillock and wash the clothes pearly white at his place. He hadn't turned up. The guys in the hostel were jumping on the cloth-hill and their exultations were almost audible from miles. My mom looked a bit apprehensive but I felt reassured.
And so with my batch of nervous nitwits I made up my mind to get admitted. I had not known then what extraordinary turn of events was lined up for me.
I still remember myself sobbing and looking over the boundary wall for the disappearing torsos of my parents....my eyes followed the vehicle till it faded into oblivion. That sense of loss...we seldom feel. But as I turned my back to my past, a queer character gave me the warmest hug I have ever got. He seemed happy and relieved to think that now he would be on his own...and I looked at him with teary eyes. My eyes were betraying my helplessness in coming to terms with reality. And this guy!! The shameless worm… was laughing; all teeth-out… Friends that fate hurls at you!!
How we got along and how together we weaved a saga that made us the stuffs of students-lore. Ahh, it’s a long story… but I am here to recount. And I will gradually unfold my life… my strife…
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