On Allahabad...

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.

..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.

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.

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.

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:(

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.  

 

 

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?