one can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar!!

I suppose

2010-05-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

Reflections collage on the silvered glass,
of the past perfect and the present 'tense' -
of the eclipsed zones, those shadow-lines
Like the locus of, a life's experience

Images rush... only to vanish!
With the sound of silence in the air -
Emotions shimmer like a wicker light,
Those vibgyor colors of my archives rare.

Questions echo, in the vacuums 'round
An equal music of a blue wind-chime
Story-board rolls, no action replays!
In a precious life-time, would hope sublime?

I move on, I stop... milestones create
Bitter-sweet flavor my symphony goes -
Under seasons of sun, a life is just?
A mystery, a puzzle... is all I suppose.

Isn’t it ironic

2009-08-15T07:32:00.000-07:00

Have I lived a life in my thoughts? Have I created a web of complex imagery, intricate dreams and sweet nothings that have lasted me a life-time? Have I lived in meta-stable state of time where past present future has managed to oscillate pendulously? I cant say that I was conscious of the future, neither can I claim possession of the present, and now as in turn-the-page, the past does not seem familiar… my life, huh, seems like lost in translation.

I have done my duties, abided by the grammar of life in general and family in particular. Education, employment, tangibles and intangibles that I own, that make me what I am! It has been a success story as ‘people’ might summarize. But is it so much about a pass-grade; a letter grade stamped on a mark sheet when its time to graduate. But here and now… what would I graduate into? Life long it was about a hide and seek, and now it all seems so futile. One thing led to another, a supply chain of hypocritical affairs that left no time to stand and stare. Percentages to percentiles, ranks to seats, graduation to masters and all along the numerology of a CTC that make you a ‘complete man’! How funny it was, in a dapper suit polished boots, they calculated my true worth! How plastic smiles and blatant lies measured more than a will to learn and a heart to try! How friends were lost and acquaintances made over a mug of beer and buffet dinner. How love’s labor lost in the silence of honor.

I stare into the nothingness of the inky sky. I try to hunt for the tipping point of my life. I try to rummage through the archives and identify the moment of truth! Alas! Seems like I did nothing wrong albeit… my dreams tell me of a different life story.

I have everything, so it is not a ‘grapes are sour’ melodrama inside. But the shades of my palette seem so very unknown now that the canvas has already been painted. Did I set out to use such colors?

The most important possession a man might have when he hangs his boots… is an equal music. A feeling of resonance with his self, his reflection, his canvas…

I never could say it. I never could stop and stare, neither did I fight for it. Fight for all those which were equal music to me. Instead I triumphed in the unknown errors of my life. My locus went on to follow a pattern, some pattern, got me in to the portals of a social milieu but somewhere I lost my sound of music.

I can’t take it back anymore. The sediments of chardonnay, the smell of turmeric, the rhinoceros (the play)…

The black automobile is parked in the driveway. ‘Take us back to the rivers of belief…’ the Enigma song fills in the airs around. There was a piece of paper with words in black, signed with a promise forever… I try hard to remember its content, I try hard to find it, go back in the past for that one reality I wish I had never lost…

If only wishes were true…

wonderment

2009-05-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

Wonderment
In my crazy dreams, wishes relevant

To be a bus-conductor, in -
Rush hour traffic, innocent excitement
Travels, to hills ‘n waters of the bay, though -
In concrete jungle my story orient

School, then college, a job that paid
Grammar of life, just ten commandment
From fairy tales to poetry learn
Allegory, irony, words do paint

26 letters read write speak, and –
Those five senses so very efficient
With tides of time, values are lost
Emotions survive… mere accident

A father and mother, no talks about
Nuclear love in high rise apartment
Move on, (s)he says, logic (s)he gives
Defined as just another incident?

No reason to believe, no reason to hold
Right questions unanswered, holds the judgment
Where Past is squared, Present continues, to-
Fill-in-the-blanks, like spaces to rent

Wonderment!
Unknown errors of life's intent

Wonderment. The word came up in a humorous context last evening. And humor was in the perimeter of discussion, like sometimes there is pleasure in pain, in a very sarcastic, beautifully ironic way! The context would remain ‘memorable’ for all reasons, left-right and centre but how truly ‘wonderment’ is the mantra of life made me have a silly grin since day-break! Not really a scribble that I thought about a lot, but ya, while just typing this in, I understood how I have been selfish in ways and how I have labored with my ‘great expectations’ without looking at people who never claim their fame, but leaves quite some indelible impressions. Maybe its time to close a counter in my ‘Reliance Fresh’ (a huge pun intended! Hope you get the thought behind!!) and bus…

55

2009-05-11T11:27:00.000-07:00

read Vinnie's 55's and wanted to write one! Din know how to be economical with words 'n thoughts... or maybe there wasnt room enough for a economy class air-fare types story... these words mean any to you.. maybe there's some story, maybe there's none, or maybe just a possibility that there was... when one turns the page :)

quite insane, but such is life... and i fire-fight :)

She
He
Acquaintance
Conversation
Speak
Listen
Smile
Laugh
Exclaim
Confirm
Contest
Create
Silence
Time
Seasons
Story
Vintage
Emotion
Confusion
Confession
Affirmation
Bliss
Magic
Open
Honest
Moment
Cross-road
Diverge
Travelogues?
Epilogues.
Past
Precious
Questions
Silence
Reason
Reflections
Refractions
Bounced
Opaque
Pain
Rain
Music
Harmony
Poetry
Wordsworth
Story
Ending
Success
Failure
Meaningless
Strange
Precious
Continuous
Treasure
Strength?

the early-birds

2009-05-07T01:27:00.000-07:00

It’s been awhile
For the words to snow-ball
Them thoughts to hurl-
Against fabric of the mind
To spin a- rhetoric confined!

All of us think about the future. From the second grade drawing classes to New India Insurance – rahe kal per control, education is about foresight. The grammar of life is largely written for the future perfect; present continuous and past perfect continuous form the ‘unknown errors’ of our lives. But as luck would be I wasn’t good at English grammar when they were taking classes back in school. I had the Wren and Martin, the John Mason textbooks… lessons in a language that teach you to speak, write and even think correctly! See! In talking about the future, somehow I turned the page… back!
What is so impressive about the future that woos us all? Why is it that we need to know where the story would take us, where it would end, even? Cant it end in the ‘odds’?
Life is short, why think so much… life is short, be very cautious! Somehow in every school of thought, there is the great dying urge to create the unnecessary! To talk about the time that hasn’t yet been identified yet. I feel overburdened. My cranial matter, shrinking in the summers of 2009 and you want me to crack some su-do-ku and assure myself of a job for the winters! In class ten, you solve pulley and pyramid problems for the IIT’s and in final year commit suicide cause you don’t know again how future tense would treat you after failing in some weird subject. A subject that aint matter to any living being! But just because there is future…to be made… you munch on.
Even getting a job is not good enough! There also the tests-of-tomorrow take away the present clockwork! No time for coffee and the ‘lot’ that happens over it!
Sometime I don’t know why they have interviews to judge people. The assumption is that the best indicator of the future performance is the past performance! The assumption is that the person would be consistent in that ‘performance’! Mind you – the word is consistent! Isn’t it funny that fulcrum of the future rests in the past? Yet all we care for is the future, using the past – UNKNOWINGLY, as the damned passport to wonderlands!
We exhibit amazing predictability! Doctor engineer, marketing finance, Mumbai Bangalore… or as Obama might say Buffalo Bangalore, we all soldier on! Future is the divine sauce served to lubricate (fertilize? Thy brain!) our rat race carts!
What is the purpose of life? Security? Happiness? Pleasure? Fame, glory, high-speed drives, sweet lullaby? What is the eye of this storm?
Some do not live for a purpose, their actions don’t have a prefix, their behaviors don’t have patterns, and maybe they are fooled by randomness. That would be an entire subject of ‘chaos theory’ but my point here is, these people make a lot of assumptions!
Question the assumptions you have made in life and the purpose would emerge. Food, water, the roof over-above, the comforts, relations, emotions… everything is quantifiable and is being the momentum behind life. In the comfort zone, we just fail to admit and admire the point-of-balance, for our lives…
Sometimes the purpose lies in the future, sometimes maybe future is the purpose! In the every shifting scales of time, we are, hence, always trying to be the early-bird! And when everyone wakes up to be the early-bird, maybe the worm still has a chance to live!
There are many aspects of life that I haven’t been able to define and measure… but I can’t see into the future, there is so much to look around right here, right now. I can be true to just this perimeter of my life.
Future is eventual. Future is gonna hit the theatres soon, I mean, hell! Theatrics of life. Some would gross more, some would be wash outs and some would remain the dark knights (amen to KKR ‘n SRK!), but I can only promise what I have. I can only stand by my present and assure as much.
So every time I look at the clock, blurring the tenses of with every periodic move, I look back to preserve the past. I look back to remember the events, the people and emotions I carry, I call my own. For the ‘Buffalo Soldiers’ it might appear baggage, but its just because they are too poor and thin to hold on. Too fast too even realize that, eventually, time ‘flies’… away! And it’s no race at all.

within without

2009-04-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

Sarcasm is like a magic cloak that hides, rather tints quite a few emotions, quite a few realities in strange ways! With 99 shades for a two wheeler and some thousand Royal emulsions on the wall, manifestations are no longer simple, rarely honest as well! And so is required the humor-in-uniform to appear brave! Appear, mind you!

This also has the huge overtone of uncertainty. What is ‘in store’ (pun intended) and what can be acquired are not quite objective! And at what cost? Time? What are the options, exhaustive? The perimeter of global kingdom, via the virtual domain, reaches out to an igloo from a hammock! And in this ‘search’ for buffer, we generate tremendous amount of data as well! Social networking sites to e-commerce; e-buy to (e)education, where is the touch and feel? I mean, is there a need even? Broad band promotions beam an impatient youth living on the edge, proud and (em)powered, just ‘cause he has a Charles Babbage invention (that would be a computer!) and some gigs of connectivity! Little drop(s) of joy! The world is a pretty place, and am a happy child!

I see a zillion pearls in the laughter around! From the whites of a toothpaste-brush, to the engagement platinum, gold affairs, to even the politicians shameless yet bold (and beautiful!) in their promises dispensing vocal tonic (read verbal diarrhea!) – happiness, more or less! The class, caste wars, the religious barbarism and nukes power play are all DISPLAYED, presented with so much perfection, that I wonder if they can all be laughed away anyway! Or rather left for the fertilized brain of the crème de la crème. Those who do not let the dirt and muck stick to their gabardine yet claim to feel the rhythm divine! Those who talk about the ‘without’ with so much ‘within’ that as a third person you feel left out man! Identity crisis – who am I? Mother! Why don’t I see the guiding light, or the shadow-lines?

What is there ‘within’ is what we cannot do ‘without’. Rather, we even need not to. That would be making ourselves an outlier to our own existence, like an out of form creature who can always double up as a politician (I guess the only profession that needs a ‘life support system’, if you really get what I mean!!)! Support! One for all and all for one… clarion calls where collectives are spelt, have all been laughed away. Group dynamics is tinted towards a particular shade, quite difficult to find from the rainbow though! Avril sang ‘Complicated’, rather she had quite a few questions in her song, sigh! Why don’t they sing some with the answers as well? I mean, why leave the solutions for the dumb ass brains who do not know how to sing, make movies, win elections, be a slum-dog millionaire et al! How the hell would that ‘another brick in the wall’ know the secret to salvation? What would they do with so much data? What would they do with so many options? How would they know the inside from the outside?

Everything thus reduces to a mathematical head-tail unbiased (sarcasm intended!) toss where there is CHANCE of spring and there is chance of Lady Katrina ‘take my breathe
(life!!) away’… aha, in just one flash! What am I to do? Write fancy poetry to post on the blog? Try to run and hide from the ‘within’ or suffer for the lack of ‘without’?

When I travel in the local bus, hang from the local trains and walk down the streets of the city in Calcutta, in Bombay, all I see is mathematics at work. An infinite loop of conditions that entangle across like crazy swim-lanes, making us wonder what greater intelligence would be! IS rather!

In the great asymmetry of our lives, we arrange ourselves in set patterns, education, love, lust and all those labor lost, even the agony aunts who infuse strength and compassion, we try to find a place in silos! And till we get to tint our holier than thou soul in some color, we are all smiles… one big happy family! A speck of dust in the infinite universe, the vacuum ‘within’ and existence (acceptance) ‘without’!

you said it

2009-04-06T01:36:00.000-07:00

Communication across the revolutionary divide is strictly partial – not my line, read somewhere. And in that doped exchange or transfer of said (unsaid) wisdom, the lunacy of life breeds! Germinates! I pay a six thou ticket for a flight from Bombay to Calcutta and I find people fanning themselves with handouts inside the carrier! Even the red herrings, I mean the airhostesses cant find aristocratic ways of being bothered of the beads and rivulets! I was told that the outside temperature is so high that the air conditioner can’t cool off enough! You know… was the look given by that lady with a maroon lipstick! Ha! Elementary education and hospitality lessons seem to have taken a beat! Did I look like a dropout from eight grade? The bird wasn’t even air borne and she was talking of temperature difference, did she know up above the world so high, the temperature is sub zero? And then would the air conditioners work their magic or would it still be a cheap stake way of saving a few liters of fuel! The low cost airline with a premium get-up! It’s sad how the recession has been a face-saver for these rat mentality business ventures, sweeping all efficiency issues under the carpet!
The other day I went to this mall called City Center. Quite expansive in the City of Joy! And there was this education fair going on. I heard this pretty (pun intended!) lady say aloud, to gather a gang for some promo game… “Now who’s ready to PLAY with ME”! I almost missed a beat, missed a breathe or two and surely reached for the ‘kerchief to whip the fore-head. Am I ready to play with… amen!

a dry inkpot

2009-03-24T13:16:00.000-07:00

Change is the essence of life. Being willing to surrender for what you are, for what you could become. But in the scheme of things and cross of changes the rules and grammar stand ill-defined. Sometimes the wagon-R (read Reliable) of life fails to negotiate a turn and hits the fencings. Sometimes the flat tire is left without a Stepney replacement. Or maybe even the necessity of a journey is fundamentally questioned and not even a smoke trail is noticed! So much for the momentum of life... turbo charged!
I do not know where this scribble would end. Maybe in a long time, this is a first. Maybe there is a dry inkpot and some confused thought. Was that fancy poetry? Some crazy rhyme that once made sense... that once held promise but then Barack Obama became the president of US of A and the leaves withered away! Hell! True or false you just need to blame something. From the financial debacle to the Laden mystery and the Slumdog Millionaire, i can take my pick! It seems now that beginnings do not have a rationale, and there is hardly an end. Life at times just interrupts you in the middle and packs you off. What might you do? Complain? Cry and cry hoarse over the confused past and the perfect present! I mean what is this life so full of care... sorry, I do not want to quote Wordsworth exactly but then, ya... the question words pour along with the emotional outbursts. The lachrymal glands, the cranial matter and the bloody four-chambered heart, all conspire to ‘paint my love’ just like MLTR had sung, only with a lemon twist on the word.. . IF. IF! IF only, just, but, would! You’d paint my love... Ha! The profound foolishness of human mind is enormous.
There are phases of life that hit you like Katharina, I mean the hurricane, but still you seem to be shamelessly biting dust. Reels of the past seem to run full house in the quagmire of a juvenile system! The planetary movements of life nucleate around just one Homo sapiens of the fairer sex and there is tremendous amount of pain. History tells us that men behave wisely after all other options are exhausted but sigh! Even in the darkest hour (I tell you it is pitch black!) of la belle dame sans mercy (look at me even expecting sympathy, empathy...!) blissful ignorance is my actual “credit” rating!
You thought so much, of so much you could think but then just so much it was left at! It was left with! The guise of sarcasm and the faint trace of humour do little to salvage the ends lost and the beginnings erased! Thanks... they (or is it she?) spared the middle! A middle that is now like the stale vegetable left after a Sunday morning market wraps up! You might just try to look back and stop, turn the page and... And... Just maybe move on. It is a great relief – closure. Traffic signals of life, the right guidelines. But do we ever learn red, yellow, and green? I wish I had known you when you were there, or then maybe you would have never been there at all.
Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in memory as the wish to forget it.

Come Feel The Rain

2009-01-27T11:03:00.000-08:00

Run for your life...
There is no way out - from my constant memory
A garden frozen in time
Just the final word... life rendered abuse
Come feel the rain...

You smile the way, it aches!
As you turn back on the one way street
Come feel the rain -
Dont walk away,
Dont look away
Lady just that once -
Know your life

Come feel the rain
Where she never moves
When he calls the world
What they only observe!
In time-less time... Oh
Come feel the rain....

Ahhh

2009-01-26T02:15:00.000-08:00

Thoughts violate integrity
Vows torn apart in the helpless storm
Of a bleeding ego with jumbled words
That tries to rearrange itself… one last time

I do not know the grammar much
Even lack the crystal thought
That essence to move, towards –
Possibility

How time really never heals!
Why life always questions back!
What lessons learnt means alas!
When sound of music never scores!

The wishes remain, safe they are
Like a blank noise fire away
Like a mountain stream, the mid night rain
Meets the end…outside the glass palace,
Beyond the window pane.

The syllabus has changed. A lot of words have been colored, people have been scripted differently and in ways it is difficult to appreciate, feel the connect. But why is it so? In the seasons of the sun, why have the tunes been altered? I am out of place. But the system is so much my own. Can I give up my integrity? Can I let my ego suffocate me? I try, I try to hold on in the primitive ways but then the glass enclosure around is strong. It is funny how I let myself lose my own… how I let the matrix run wild, affected by strange virus no Norton can cure. But I should run… I should give up at last now! Not let the mutations get onto me… but I cant… all the strength, all the valor and confidence seem to evaporate suddenly. And standing near the cross-road, I watch a separation, as again… the invisible time-keeper of life tells me… the jig-saw remains unsolved. And yet again, I am surrounded in the sound of silence. A silence that time has lost track of!

just a post... post 2008

2008-12-31T04:21:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since the words trickled. It’s been a while now that the blog has been given a word-lit! It’s been a while now that I have turned to myself with the reason to be selfish. But it’s not a while before another year would roll into our lives, with just about the baggage of yester-years.
Reflecting back never really adds to the grey matter wisdom and planning ahead with righteous thoughts and honest intentions also quite fall apart in the whirlpool of a seemingly ‘future perfect’; the new year just stays around like a harmless moment of truth decorated with fan-fare but lost in so many emotions. The irony of life catalyzes this brief interlude.
I do not know what made me scribble in a post that began without a nucleated thought. I do not know if the treatise, if I may call it one, would create a ripple effect for its reader…
The year that was, was good. The changing lanes from corporate to academia, the trek up country from the garden to the ‘maximum city’, from days of self income to monthly pocket-money, ya… hallowed be thy 2008!
Studies in human resource management did nothing to balance the offset of my life. Maybe even did not teach me enough to appreciate the subject. But left me enough to let the sarcasm roll over! In a way I was turning into a cynic who tried to run away from realities that meant nothing to him; rather trying to run after rolling stones which really had the momentum advantage! Stones I call, albeit life-less they weren’t. Huh! A futile imagery to hide behind; glorifying sadness is a way of self-pity, isn’t it? And so the year went on in common sense understandings, uncommon situations of acquaintance and the usual tryst of ‘wishful thinking’!! I mean the dreams, et all which do not take it account any realistic perimeter but just mutate around illogical premises to create the perception reality counters!
The year saw a lot of hope being invested even though the financial markets raped investments in stocks and shares. The recession and dark clouds over management placements – life can’t be holier than thou for the rat racers! Hope was also in a certain matrix reloaded version, applicable to my life. Hope was there for a repair work, a patch, a Norton antivirus to set things right on the substrate of human follies! But I guess, them soft-wares don’t work on live-wares! Words were said, written too, and even composed in poetic (in)justice towards a selfish dream – till the reality bytes nipped through this cancerous outgrowth! I might not make sense, might not appear logical but then yearend blues can complicate the renderings from my bittersweet symphony!
Some things end and some things never, but can both enterprise have a common node to start off from? Can birth and death complement each other in a symbiotic way (other than Ekta Kapoor’s K serial flicks!) Maybe yes… in all of twenty-four years, the constitution of life has not been amended too much but then aspects of life do not stand well defined always! The penumbral zone of life does not cease to exist. And as the year ends, and the year begins, there seems to be a cross-road. Maybe it’s time… for what? Would 2009 unveil but till then, as I watch the night sky turning orange and the zephyr blows with the chilly overtone, it’s a time for a sound of silence! For nothingness, for a vacuum with potential, for a year with a promise towards – life after death!
To happiness and health, to peace and simplicity, to trust and honesty, a great year ahead… my best wishes!

tagged - quirky-wala

2008-06-02T00:36:00.000-07:00

These are the 'holy commandments' (ya dramatic me!):
1. Link the person(s) who tagged you - in this case! raghav
2. Mention the rules on your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours...
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them…
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged...

Quirk-z

1. i go into these 'silent zones' while on the phone. not quite intentional but people freak out when they realize that its the 'sound of silence'!
2. i sing along with tracks that i like albeit my singing is not at all mellifluous
3. i like wearing shorts (as crudely called 'half-pants') all the time - might as well wear them to office!
4. i drive fast might even be rash (never harmed the populace on road though!) and while on a bike i just apply the rear brakes (only!). pretty weird this!
5. i eat fast and make a lotta munching noise (u shudnt be around when am having the onion from the salad! sounds like a marching band). i like eating sugar globules from the homeopathic medicine bottles - just like that!
6. i polish my shoes too much (till they shine n shine n shine!) hate ironing and cant at all sleep with the lights on.

art thou i tag!

somya - the translucentdestiny~
alok - lapsus calami
kaveeta - sachiniti-
soumya - nib n notes
arunabh - fantasy fits!
canary - airs her thoughts!

struggles democratic thru 'n thru

2008-04-28T03:11:00.000-07:00

Its democracy - the freedom at midnight has empowered us. We can say what we want, write what we feel and most importantly... we can opine! Perceive and process things 'our' way. Education provides us with the literatures and mathematics of life while life in itself is a slave in the hands of the end means - the engineering, the medicine, the law, the media etc... The means borne outta education that defines the locus of life - vicious cycle/circle, ironic! All doped with the liberals of democracy.... free will.
Talk of pain, talk of hardships, struggles... talk of battles, talk of 'life' and there'll be dreamy eyes, inspiring words, virtual scars, heart-burns.... there'll be a deluge of emotions, a treatise of examples, anecdotes and terra bytes worth of advice, 'un'adulterated gyan!! It’s like baptism by the fire. The soulful symphony, the touching interludes... all... all seem so precious, to them!!
Generalization! From the ideologies of/for vote bank politics to the "struggles" of their so-called "life"... from the rules of social recognition to the virtues of a married wo(e)-man & vices of all the married men, we live a democratic existence! Truth is universal. There is no right or wrong, there is no need to question! There is no basis defined before the trumpets beat, before their words overflow.
There is no need to quantify yourself, there is always space for the 'I' to park his/her ego and start a vanity fair. With time, the circus becomes a race where 'painful moments & learnings' are documented in colorful scrapbooks, made into catchy power points and woven into mellifluous scores... songs of life!!
There is no tax on expressions. There is no stratification. in the mighty stage shows, the minorities are bullied. The value, importance and sensitivity are lost. Life seems larger than "life" and this virtual reality, certified by the masses (classes?) is the biggest con of human existence. Devised by us, followed by us, without a stop-n-stare, without a rain check, a conscience.... without shame.
What is the credibility? What is the depth, the purpose of understanding? How much of grammar behind the composition? Where is the soul behind the decorative renderings? Democracy is a logic gate, the veritable AND operator that allows everything to cling on, hang on and suffice. Freeway drive.
So people say... eulogize and glorify their space and in collective appreciation, 'life' moves on. Life! The concept we all know blindfolded.
Life is not a cooperative credit society and struggles aint the premium/interest paid on.
The road show reality bytes seem to snowball into a sham. No one cares, there's no room for a collective. The policies and programs that we devise and implement are all unique.
In democracy, there are illusions, there are exclamations.... celebrations, of a life, that we deem to know, deem to have lived through.
We don’t have time. We don’t really care.... life, we really do not know, what it means beyond blue eyes, beyond the I's of the storm.

of a songbird

2008-04-26T00:38:00.000-07:00

darkness.... melt in the rains o' night
crazy patterns on ma window pane - oh yeah!
ever shifting, in timeless time-
would those moments... be-come again...

light n shadow, playful life
smells of love, of days bygone
words 'n phrases ma symphony
soulful render like a song bird yeah!!

smiles of laughter, smiles o' pain, ya -
sounds of silence lilting soul -
would i live, live thru the love?
love... that was left on the cross-road back

a moment... when you would stop and turn
ma feelings... the reason, wud you wud see -
the lock 'n key would open above
dreams of living, lost in ur love.... oh...oh...

move on, dream on... all in your love
with or without you.... believe -
it was true, 'n it lives inside...
ma lady.. this... this cannot hide....

chorus

say again, pray again.. yeah! hold on might
belief, the faith... all ma own -
love again, come again... aint no true; only -
lost 'n found, in me, ma mind... she remain !!

oh.. oh....

the walk away

2008-03-14T12:43:00.000-07:00

I walked away from all I had
From all I had, I walked away
Din not know… what, crossed my mind
When I-
Walked away, when I walked away

Dreams I left, some crimson red, those-
Drops o’ rain, some winter blues
Laughter pearls, those throbs of pain
All left alone, when I
Walked away…

Snaps of time, all framed and bound; her-
Shades of life, a fairy-tale
Wonderland, of highs and lows
Still called me back, as I
Walked away-

It smelt of her, it smelt of time when-
Woven dreams hath warmth of love, now-
Dried greens do pave thee path-
Of a thousand miles, and-
I walked away…

I know not why, I know not how
I stand alone in darkness still
Shadows long, from distant past
In silent night-
I walked away…

Chorus-

I walk alone to the western sky
As she smiled at me, a stranger seemed
The pain all lost in her happy love-
As she closed her eyes to,
Walk away…

all for

2008-03-02T12:05:00.000-08:00

The frame of life in vibgyor, washed
in tears of times, long gone by
Where seasons come and seasons go-
Tales all scribbled on sands of time

Some prose is left, some verse unscored
Some emotions too, seem to hide
Acts of life sans direction look-
A sound of silence resonates inside!

The question words- no options but!
Vacuum around answers not
To strive… to seek, another surge
To turn the page and race the clock.

Ifs and buts… conditions of life
Fulcrum of existence, rhythm divine?
Flashes, imaginations, to live the moment-
The zephyr soothes the soul betide.

The winds of change, the dusk to dawn
Hope, the opium, the pleasure of pain!
Numb in parts, the heart aches though
Awaiting the spark… the night sky glow!

Some chapters written, some characters play
They stop by short and then move on
No time to witness, no time to feel;
No time for ‘chance’, no time for heal

Complex numbers, divine logics
The simple dream, the unabashed love!
Ungoverned by clause, rule or reason
Sung in glory, faith ‘n trust

Turn the page, move on time
Words all scribbled like black slaves march!
Who would reason, who would try
Who would hold… and not hold back?

If wishes were true, if the stars would fall
If the sound of music enchants the soul
The smile of love radiates to shine
For the present ‘perfect’… the futures behold!

Thoughts do meander and thoughts do let
Dreams… desires germinate within-
A hapless smile, a bliss divine-
Lost in translation… to remain unseen.

Tipping Point

2008-01-27T01:10:00.000-08:00

There was an absolute calm as the translucent mist floated across the dark of night. Even the lazy wind seemed to have stopped rolling. The blanket of silence absorbed even the emotions- as if communication was never a facet of existence. The moon, size of a clipped off nail, added little ‘enlightenment’ as life seemed more like hiding desperately from some unknown seeker!
I always believed that there was some 'tipping point' to the nights. A point where the spent forces of the day gave way to fresh spirits for the new day sun. A point where life stood neutral, albeit vulnerable but the most beautiful; where life did not carry the wish-lists, where there were no dimensions of accomplishments… where existence was liberated!
I had woken till late to witness this ultimate moment of life. I have tried to smell the airs, tried to wear the mist and soak in the warmth… I have tried to live that tipping point!
Education, from the alphabets to the numbers, seemed a pointless voyage. The mutation of knowledge kills knowledge itself and at the end we all turn no wiser than we were initially. The lessons of life, lessons in life, could never be scripted so beautifully with all the geometrics and logics of head and heart. Education remained a merry-go-round in the fair of a lifetime.
But today, at this very moment, I feel different. I feel complete. I feel as if I have won the prize but not at a cost. The fulcrum balanced around my existence as realization is borne out of experience. The matrix of various tools of education, signs, symbols and expressions of law and order seem to melt away, leaving behind the dimensionless point of existence – of me, being me, the only truth.
I haven’t lost anything today. Haven’t lost a corporate deal, haven’t been beaten at the stocks, not been left alone in love nor been hurt in some ego stroking duel. There is no reason to mourn as there is no reason to celebrate. There is no over-worked emotion catalyzing chemical illusions in me. But I feel different, I do.
Man, woman and the child- permutated in so many relations in this world, so many emotions, duties, expectations and evaluations. Worth! To prove the value. To earn the value! In itself, no one has any value. Nothing seems precious. The decorations of tangibles and intangibles of life bring meaning to everything. And today, for me, meanings seemed to have changed. Seemed to have shed the ornaments.
What have I lived for? The matured question never seemed to have a simple answer. I have lived for moments. I have lived for expectations- mine and others. I have lived for the seasons, the moods of life and also… have lived to die another day. Death has been repetitive, whoever said you only live once. Been born again and again, with each death, with each failure, with another shot at success.
Others, I have lived for but all for selfish ends, masked, hidden in ways, like the magic of ecological balance on earth, cruel yet necessary! I have lived and died just like the high waves at sea. But today, tonight, seems like serendipity.
The sphere around me seems to have halted. The inter-atomic movements, the Brownian motions, Newton’s laws, gravity… all seem to have been jinxed by some corollary spirit. The Tipping point that I have always imagined – the neutral reality of life. The flash point of life’s universal truth. The plateau of life where the object and image superimpose; the principle of duality, the good and the bad, dark and the light… all seem to have been absorbed into the spirit, the liberation of life.
I am awake, not a figment of a dream. I can see the familiar objects of life in various shapes, in various capacities, standing and holding together the fair we all belong to; the substrate of our existence – I can see them all.
But I feel different. If only words had the power to express what I feel now, if only this moment could be given a chance to grow, into something bigger… The tipping point of life, my life, came in that one static moment of truth, that night, when I had everything, everything, but truly nothing at all.
Existence of a point is a mere presence- formless and I? A mere form trying to exist, without a point.

Ps: I do not really know if there really is a moment of balance in our lives, a moment where existence is not driven by external forces but I just felt… something truly. Suddenly, and thought if I could write it down… Tipping Point, the marker of life’s voyage.

duniya ka naara (aur...main tare zameen par)

2008-01-17T10:20:00.000-08:00

The clock on the blue-white cubicle blinked back like a half-wit moron! Measuring out the minutes and hours of the day without being bothered about its prima focus… its quality, utility and emotions! It just counted through the sanity of my day! My corporate life where emails seemed like spy-games… secret conspiracies and assignments included filling in for privileged foreigners who would take quite sometime to settle down to the eastern civilizations and then work towards some constructive output.
And then every year boss would have the same old question…’When are you getting married?’ My utility has some matrimonial tendril that would one day choke me to death! Oh god, this corporate world where work/ time curve seems to disappear in the positive infinity and the ‘boss quotient’ seems to have the never ending negative gradient. They saw human intelligence is boundless… limitless and its fair to assume that our bosses are the enlightened souls with the halo around their heads.
My best friend is getting married in a fortnight but I have organizational commitments. Shifting to a new office, the gul mohar has been left behind… just this makes me sad at times when I stare out and long for the fiery orange dotting the green! My colleague has a three month old she misses, quite openly and there again I feel so sad for her… poor soul!
People around have nothing special to discuss about. They talk about the damn weather, the pollution, neighbor’s new car and worsening traffic of the metro! And today they were in the hungry hippo mode! All day, it was like a big buffet with everyone talking about dishes from all over the national kitchens!
I worked out of my blue-white space; trying to diffuse the emotions and rage inside… wondering what would really help. Wanted to run home for a nap, or maybe hog a Mc veggie and then the sinful chocolate at the Barista down-lane.
I wanted to fly home. Shut out the din of the human song and ring of the corporate jingle bells that made everyday seem like Christmas! I wanted to work and not feel it encompassing everything else. I wanted to get back the gul mohar tree again.
What is wrong with me? The corporate virus seems to have seeped into the hard drive of my life and now everything seems to be getting a corporate approval before execution! My loyalty, devotion, goodness (most importantly!) seem to be dipped in the blue-white of the organizational color.
I am so very important to the people and the troupe around! They are all so much busy and caught up in varied battles and situations of life… and I feel the rush of compassion wash me off with a guilt- oh how selfish have I been to just think of my own clot? How selfish of me to run and take time-off, attend my best-est chum’s shaadi! Give maa a surprise by the surprise visit I have never managed in the three years that I have ‘served’ the company! I am so ashamed to be so caught up with my own bag of bananas!!
I saw my sister balance her family and work and even she took a year off but then she was in the governmental agency, I am a private corporate citizen and like the LED of my desk clock, I need to run on…
I am a girl… a woman, a lady, I do not know if my age would influence you to use wither of the words but then, never ask for ‘her’ age, as they say! And till the time I tell my boss, at the annual appraisal that I am getting married… huh, life is going to be like this- little of my own, a lot of my ‘others’ and most of my ‘nothings’ – for all that I want is not in the blue and white of my space in the temperature controlled room, a little of what I want is just the ol’ tree from my window… a fiery orange – bold and beautiful!
And for the better part of what all I would want… well, I don’t know… in the constitution of my corporate citizenship, somewhere, I have so many roles to enact… I have forgotten when I am me.
I just get up a bit late nowadays, maybe all I need is just a little bit of rest topped with a sizzling brownie ‘n chocolate sauce.

something would be outta nothing

2008-01-07T08:44:00.000-08:00

A thousand tears! A zillion reasons to wrench in pain, feel the virus of self-pity corrode the guts out of you. The big bad world against the self, like a serpent from the fairy tales coiling eternally, strangling out the spirits and hope.
Life is a pot boiler of strange portions that seem to easily stimulate the tear glands, the lachrymal glands, as they are biologically called!
Cynical, irritating, complaining, sad, dejected, loud, impatient, volatile, negative, heavy, aged, enlightened… somehow a lot of laurels can be heaped!
Life and times might not be like the J curve of economics, it might not have a positive gradient also but then heck! It’s the very moment that we seem to miss so easily in the craving for the future and the scare of the past. What we have is here and now…

With a wad of bus-tickets, conductor I would
The bath-tub on sofa, bus-driver with a hoot!

Ten paisa and twenty would contribute to buy
Rubber balls for cricket, paper kites to fly

The pet birds… verandah, my little aquarium-
Rhythm less on tabla, the polished harmonium

Illustrated classics, Oliver and Finn
Art classes on Saturday, then Charlie Chaplin

Stories of yore, the dreamy eyed boy
Chocolates and toffees, those ultimate joy

Scooter ride with dad, riding ‘long fast
The road-side sugarcane, in the summers be must!

Friends all so many… man! scream and shout
Roller-coaster of life… just all round-about!

2007 gave a lot erased a lot. The ledgers of life don’t seem worth a hair-splitting analysis. In the principle of duality, the joy gives birth to pain… the light gives birth to shadow- might be vice versa but should that matter? The hen or the egg dilemma? The existence matters and so I guess 008 would be the new bond!
The effort to live for the present; the effort to etch a smile and not shade the grumpy sketch of a burdened face. The effort to modulate, the effort to focus. The effort to honor and appreciate what all is there.
A little bit of honesty and a little less of hunger… maybe there is madness, a joy in the surroundings that are shy to reveal themselves in front of the lofty dreams and missions we have. Let’s play that hide ‘n seek for a change! Lets try to forgive and forget and not be in the prisoner’s dilemma of a game theory situation! Let words, music, actions and motions fortify the basement of life’s pyramid.
There is nothing to evaluate against, nothing to compare and lose… there is just the moment, the flash… and a desire to click a brilliant picture on the reels of time.
Stars do fall unnoticed-
Tare Zameen par-
A patient search found
Tare Zameen par-
A bundle of joy, this realization
Tare Zameen par-
The countless dimensions radiate
Tare Zameen par-
The innocent happiness generate-
Wohi… Tare Zameen par-

Kho naa jaye yeh… Tare Zameen par…

SALA

2007-12-19T06:41:00.000-08:00

sala! acchai ka dhol
sacchai ka bol
teri dukh bhari kahaniyan
wo purani sabh nishaniyan

soch ke pareshan
kya waqt ki imtihaan?
sawal anek sala!
jawab toh nahi mila..

kavita, pravandh o' bhai!
wo yaadein bulake lai
aasoon seh bheegi sari
sapnoon ka mayajaal!

bharosa kispeh karun
main atith seh hi darun
sabh ekich type hai-toh
koshis nako biru!

jhoot ki hai yeh khel
jhooti thi woh mail
abeh hata sala tu bhi naa-
sikha nehi kaise jeena

faida nehi, bhaw nehi hain sala
dikhaweh ka hi samay kayam hain
kisko padi, kisko lagi
kiske mannmeh bhawna jagi??

fast lane life, mbps speed!
bytes are thrown, hard to catch
norton protects the heart inside?
virus matrix- still plots do hatch!

the simple prog when i do run
output null, the cursor waits
ignorance bliss, i tell myself-
blame the luck n curse the fates!

showbiz man! darn! circus run
face paint wear, dazzling light
looks so good, smells o' nice
hollowed dimensions seem so bright!

abeh rota bahut hain
bolana tujhe main!
kuch chutkule suna
warna-koi dhun gun-guna-

gyan sagar meh dubki lagake
dho dal aapna ratan bhandar-
nayi bol, koi nayi dhun banake-
chale chal nayi disha keh oar-

words no more-

2007-12-14T23:27:00.000-08:00

words that floated like wasted pollens
words that 'faded' with the break of dawn-
words that expired with the measures of time
in rush hour, words.... all lost and gone

in words to explain, i did try
with words to express the locus of life
to try and get the harmonic wave
bearing words- to seek, to strive

words to link, words to break
words of emotions- tailor-made
of friends, of those, now no more-
do some remain, still unsaid

words, a gift. a strength... support
a purpose drives the essence ahead
words catalyze, the cross of change!
tales o' life, of words are made-

words of chance, words of show
liar! liar! a word game played
the selfish gains those spoken words-
hollowed currency for the worldly trade!

words affect, the foolish souls
the trapeze of thoughts, highs n lows,
words of one, its effect on else-
on canvas of life, its magic shows!!

have written enough, those honest words
some happy sad, some in dire straits-
the worldly wisdom did overwrite
did mask most of the truest traits...

words of questions, words of chance,
words of plea, a reason to believe-
words of try, of efforts made
words to hold and not to leave

now no more, no words would waste
my experiments with truth, the cup overflows-
trials and errors, words-worth remain
turn the page-
as the lilting zephyr slowly blows...

Cross Road

2007-11-14T10:22:00.000-08:00

The boundary wall, front of the house
Waist high, painted yellow
Sitting over, in conversation…

The metallic clamor, high pitched horns
Shred the black muslin of the night
Light and sound shows of life play on.

Time would flow, or stop in sense
Over words exchanged; over nuances strange
And the cool zephyr, some rustling leaves-

Sometimes walking down the road
Treaded lanes, by lanes of life
Lost in words… more than words?

The wagons of life pierce the darkness
The head-lamps create crazy patterns
As the sound of silence wrecks the night!

Have said so much, in joy and pain
Heard them all of seasons in the sun
But loved them all within the bounds of a heart.

Traces come back, some words of spring,
Nostalgia grips for those pains and hurts
When the words were damp, moist with pain…

Each one mine, those words, feelings
Witnessed by the nocturnal traffic
Etched on the yellow brick and mortar.

But now no more… no words, for long
The seasons lost in the black hole of time
The vacuum rolls inside me deep.

She walked across the cross-road alone
Lost in the traffic, the voice, the seasons-
The black o’ the night lost its story-teller

The yellow boundary wall gathers dust
But do memories rust in the dungeons of time?
Honest emotions though… run over –

In that cross-road of life-
I lost the story, I lost the words
And now…
The sun and rain aint hurt no more
And the nights, seem a stranger-
Filling the gap before a new dawn breaks…

Only the cross-road stole my seasons in the sun.

for once

2007-10-28T10:02:00.001-07:00

We are a funny lot. And not because we can emote like the Chaplin of yesteryears but because we never tire of the mask that we wear to all the parties of civilized existence. Education gives us the latitude to think… and also the longitude to juggle! Words, ideas, arguments, facts, figures, the entire gamut! Now let’s leave the damp angle of emotion out – anyway that’s a perennial perjury we have mastered in all the role plays around…
We do not love to lose. Accept that the shine might have worn off… accept that some mistake has been made – we love to play on. An entire nation watches, reads and tries to assimilate the nuclear deal. A Prime Minister cooks magic portions for the newsprint sans the support of his cabinet; at the end of the day, he remains a ‘muggle’ being thunderstruck by some spell of democratic coalition, communist sentiments and mind boggling international wizardry!
Who would want to lose the seat of power? Who would not want to re-gain the throne? And who would really know whether these scrawling signatures on starched deals make a difference to the rising sun – another day in paradise (lost?)?
We debate. From the pages of The Telegraph, to the portals of NDTV, we stitch words and phrases supported by facts, figures and ‘expert opinion’, we harangue over a nuclear deal.
We have people with fluid expressions winning over the crowd – none the less sensational performance! In a democracy, the majority takes the booty, but then who is the majority is this entire tale of nuclear fall-out? Who would stand to gain or lose if Uncle Sam smirks on us? For whom are they debating? The majority is not the electorate! Not the tax-payer, nor the rural, urban denizens of team India.
It is about political science, diplomacy and word play. It is about these weapons that catalyze exothermic reactions across global diameters. It is about people who do not love to lose. English is a funny language, funnier when you articulate fast, hilarious when you add that foreign ascent – but it gets the job done!
The elected heads of various political schools cannot simply agree whether certain understandings would be good for the country! Then why are they there? Is it that one man’s meat is another man’s poison? One party can be better than the other in terms of efficiency, in planning, in execution and transparency of actions. We elect people but for the country and not for the part ideology. But lo! Politics is a profession now! And no one likes to lose! Opposition, coalition, cabinet, the three legs of a tripod! The Prime Minister can get licked you-know-where if he does not feed these bloodlines.
We, the people, manage life without such deals. How has India progressed and has India really seen the rising sun would be a different debate but then really, in this snake and ladder, we do not get to throw the dice.
Jargons which do not make sense to us, principles that would not erase the worries of a daily struggle and footage that seems such a big waste when a nation is hardly equipped to run through a micro-level existence. India is not the bourgeoisie. India is not the su-do-ku of stocks and shares, GDP, FDI and IT boom. India is not about how millionaires are swearing by foreign labels and certainly India is not about vested interests of politicians who do not wish to lose!
We never ask for a degree for the PMO, we never ask for qualifications to get into the hallowed portals of the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha – its only words… speeches, passions that make us get them into the game. And then, the matrix plays for itself!
It is for the country. Is it good? Why should it be a Congress or a BJP to decide? Why cannot all of them unite and see through the job at hand? Why should the CPM behave as if it can live only by fear psychosis? Putting everything together why cannot there be a common rail to drive over?
Forget the need to complete a five year term, forget the need to grab the seat and steal the credits of a nuclear deal and forget the dwindling fortunes of an age old political ideology that has not given anything to the fractions ruled over, forgetting everything but the impact on India, we can win over the deal.
Let this not be a vote begging ticket, let this not be a dirt on some politicians gabardine, but let this be an example in world democracy where, we, the people would emerge winners.
No expert opinion, no vested interest to boot and mostly no fear of failure.
We need to better ourselves and surge ahead. There is no scope for mud slinging.
At the end of the day, the queen and the pawn go back to the same box… its time we face ourselves and see the Indian is us, sans the political mantras.
Emotionally speaking, it would make us proud, for once, if united we draw the winning wager. Its all in the heart, in the thought and approach and not the principles of worldly wisdom – all we need is to look at the screen behind the mirror, maybe see the tricolor with a little more passion!

5 questions and 5 miles

2007-09-19T07:36:00.000-07:00

Why?
Why not?
Why can’t?
Why me?
Why again… why me?

Hit the nail on the mushroom head-
The grey & white (matter!) of a hapless soul
Hit on hard, hit on hard…
Hit on till the feelings are dead.

Scorch the heart and burn the head
Weakness for and of a reason
Do what would fetch in the rat race, mate-
Emotions sold for price of lead??

The clouds bring rain, the waters turn snow
Life does give a fair chance ‘round-
But crash boom bang… and turn the page-
What of worth, this use and throw?

The books of wisdom, lessons to preach
Of science, of reason, of numbers and figures
But where to find the measure of life…
Art of living who would teach!

It’s an art remember! A game supreme!
Nothing is what it is oh friend!
So near, yet so far, operate-
The meta-stable of real ‘n dream

No point to echo the questions inside
Of which no answers are borne in time
No use to feel the emotions mutate
Those drops of pain you strain to hide

The traffic of life on the greens and reds
Would leave you mate, and move across
No time to spare, no time to waste
No time to wait till the dream begets

No magic wish, no second chance
No given chance, no taken word
No questions asked, no answers given
The rains of life… the rhythm to dance

I lost the reason in my search for answers
To questions which do matter to none
And so I give a long last look… and turn-
Over the 5 mile road, of my dreams long gone…

The questions are dead, the pain I hide
No longer to show, no longer to plead
The letters slowly erase themselves…
Catalyzed in… the time- the tide.

the open buk test of life...

2007-09-08T04:18:00.000-07:00

What is love? What is love?Baby don’t hurt me… don’t hurt me… no more… and like Jim Carrey you have to jerk your head sideways – quite vigorously!

From the great Indian Laughter Challenge to Russell Peters… from the mushy Indy-cinema to the glistening glory of Hollywood stars… from the New Mom’s shopping outlets to Archies cards… love is in the air!

Its an all weather phenomena that sometimes makes a mockery of all the geographical, religious and sexual divide that we have managed to discern. Its not a set piece movement out of the soccer games or a practiced move from a hockey-ed Indy-movie that has managed to score some new records @ the box-office.It just happens and they say that Cupid, the blind archer, is responsible!

LOVE – hmmm… Legacy Of Volatile Emotions.

Or you can replace volatile with vandalized.

The flowchart starts of with attraction graduates into infatuation and then you have the ‘sudden –death’ where the match is won or lost. There are other kinds of love as well… the parental, national, animal, floral, culinary, cultures, literature, I-know-all-bookworms, sports, music, travel-related, creativity (the various arts- modern art which makes sense even if u turn the painting upside down!!)… and lots more. Cant forget crime, terror, power, money, status… love has managed to gate crash into all the parties of life!But the others are definite forms wherein its interest, passion and then love and mastery… The unconditional parental love… siblings, family, friends – love, having the dimensional aspect. You might not choose such threads of your life’s parachute but then mostly they hold you through…And in this surety, love is generalized!

Like Newton’s third law, demanding an equal and opposite reaction…

The paperback novels, the celluloid and anecdotes from the hemispheres around…lo! The flight of fantasy is borne!School, college, university, corporate campus – the battlefield is everywhere. Fashion, style, fads and even politics… the movers & shakers aint bother much about rules.It’s more like a strategy. You have the tips to a man’s heart and ways to a woman’s soul – they even publish such stuff in the newspapers.Hearts are won, time is less and life is short! So called love marks the Valentine’s Day…would you be my valentine? Blind dates, match-fixing and life on the fast lane…

The break-up over a few tissues and words of glory, a few promises and a few lessons… single and ready to mingle!Can love play second innings in your life? Or is there a way to ensure a steadfast partnership on debut?We blame the men and try to protect the women, oppressed. We try to drown in self-pity, rewind and play the archives of our relation directory!

And then we decide that it wasn’t love! No! Voila! It was a trap, a play, entrapment and we deserve much better! The chest bulges out, the lips curl in some involuntary pride and you are again swimming in the whirlpool of life.When can we know its ‘lock kiya jaye’? How is the measure of time a catalyst in these reactions? Friends, relatives… we all have seen the old wine of love being poured across varied shapes and sizes… we have felt good, bad and angry but the question with which this scribble began… hmmm… has no answer.Now Adam and Eve, the historical & fictional characters have all made us marvel with philosophies that have been analyzed over PhD courses, which have given birth to schools of thought… but let me ask you again… when do you know it’s the winning wager?

When do you know, it is really love?‘What is this life so full of care… we have no time to stand and stare…’ and we move on with the half-truths and the hopes of the biggest truth of our life. Of our life, remain these emotions, this love… the rest? All go into the 6 by 4!Destiny’s child.Do they teach these at any B-school? Maybe Cupid can take a guest-lecture for us.Till then… its Archies, CCD, Barista – as they say… a lot can happen over coffee JThe candle (light) in the wind…

turn the page

2007-08-28T10:30:00.000-07:00

Across the street the shadow crossed
Amidst the lights ‘n sounds of life
Another turn and then was lost

Another turn and then was lost-

Without a word, without a cry
The time traveled like washed in tide
A gilded truth turned naked lie

The empty road in the melted dark
The chill ‘o air of silence breathes
Splashes of time, indelible mark!

Splashes of time, the indelible mark-

Words worth once seem nickel and dime?
Questioned against the ethos still
Music and lyrics can no more rhyme.

Not worldly wise emotions are
Across the street, as left behind
Those logics of life resonating afar

No one to break the silence
No one to question me-
No one to deny this pleasure
In the emptiness I see…

Left me where I stood-
You believed I could…

Oh ya! You believed I could…just

Turn the page ‘n wash the inks
The impressions inside I would hide
The silent tear in sudden moments
I couldn’t betray… sorry, I couldn’t hide

sound of silence

2007-08-27T04:55:00.000-07:00

Wipe the slate clean. Chapters in life disappear leaving behind the clots of pain and penance. The oft repeated question… the why and the how… like a reptile coiling around its prey. Turn the page to begin from the first milestone, to write the same melody in different words, to stage the same play with different characters.
Sometimes your biggest strength goes against you! Whatever you say, whatever you do, hits back on you with a strange irony; as if life gave up on you.
The signs remain. From the recesses of the mind to the drafts of the e-mail box, words dipped in emotions, phrases bearing stories and sentences drafting stories, the past looks back with a smirk. This is what you had mate!! And look at you now! And all cause of what you are… who you are! You can blame the other(s) but can only feel bad for the part you played in loss…
Wish I could stop staring back, wish I could forget the past but maybe deep down I can only keep the case open… open for an understanding. Hoping for a chance to hold on…
Hope, the opium of life. Do you sacrifice your self-respect for anyone? Maybe you do not try too hold on… the fast pace of life makes you too busy… but then it is never the same again. The deserted road in the pitch-black night is not the same. The chill in the air with the hint of rain… the streetlights etching the crooked shadows stretched on the asphalt… the conversations- have changed.
There is a vacuum that cannot be defined in words. There is a lost story. There is the beginning of the end. I have never written for a purpose, I have felt what I have written, believed in every word but for the first time the words seemed to disintegrate. Their motive, their essence was questioned. They were just rendered value-less.
I remain good with words in my own fabricated existence. What I lost can be tabulated… what I sacrificed can be listed but what I am left with is nothing… it was never a gain for me; it was just about life turning back and giving you a hand. It was just about faith and belief. I had never known what I am left with. I do not know if I am right in holding on but who can judge the repentance within? Who can question a realization borne? But a chance I didn’t get…
We never know what is best for us when we have them but in the sense of loss is there the true sense of worth. Maybe it is not reciprocated. Maybe there is worth and there is none on the other side…
Wish I could… but wishes have never come true… life moves on and days are melting into weeks.. months might roll by… but the drafts of a dream, the threads of a story line would generate the vapors inside… wish I could be good with words… wish I could have one magic wish… if only wishes were safe…Some things never change. Some things define life… and some people define you. I have lost all three… and all I have left are the words… which I am good with. The perfect words-worth!

3S

2007-08-04T04:25:00.000-07:00

What is the right mix of ingredients in life? What would really make it a heady mix- a tasteful experience? In ‘winespeak’, its called - The Balance. The harmony among the wine’s components – fruit, acidity, tannins, alcohol; a well-balanced wine possesses the various elements in surgical proportions! The formative years, the germination of life is like the Green – a wine made from unripe grapes that is tart. But then the growth, the upbringing is important… the Breed, similar to good handling which again is the result of soil, grapes and vinification techniques. This determines the depth and character in a wine – only wine??
With time, life shows its identity, making the individual Distinctive – elegant, refined character that sets a wine apart! It is Developed – mature; a well-developed wine is more drinkable! And then again in the superlatives of life… some achieve the Elegant label- the refined character, stylish but not heavy wine.
But in this journey cycle, the movement is not a team effort. Some are left behind while some charge ahead in the rat race of life…Forward, like wines developed when the fruit is prominent, ahead of its peers!
Perception changes with age, with years and with the exposures of this game! Young, forever at heart? In simple wines signifies youthful restlessness; in finer wines, refers to immaturity! The traits develop as cross-functional teams, principles of duality are formed. Even like in wines… Strong- robust powerful, big. Weak – lacking grip typical for the wine; without character! Thick – dense and heavy in texture against Thin, lacking body and flavor. Meaty, a wine with chewy, fleshy fruit; sturdy and firm in structure. Mellow- smooth and soft variant or even the Musty flavor – stale dusty or rank aromas! Well, if everything could be envisaged so easily, life would really be of the Noble rank – of perfect balance, like the world’s finest wines – Cabernet, Sauvignon, Merlot or Riesling.
There is the screen behind the mirror with varied shades! Off dry, in wines, which is like not quite dry but a perception of sweetness too faint to be called wine-sweet.
Life is more like an exothermic reaction. The end-result makes us modulate ourselves and fight for a better ‘morrow! The Sparkling of wines, with bubbles created by trapped CO2, might be a natural or induced phenomena. The slight hint of carbon dioxide in young wines lead to Spritzy! The Crisp, fresh brisk character… the Flinty, dry mineral character… the Harsh, with its heavy biting character… all of these have the external stimuli that makes them endowed with varied measures.
The introverted lot also finds a place in the sun; the Deep wine, having layers of persistent flavors that gradually unfold with aeration. The Honest wine, without flaws, typical and straightforward, simple but not too great. Does honesty pay? Is it a virtue that ties you to the age old Aesop’s Fables? Or is it just a rare kind of wine, brewed on demand?
But as the hour glass measures out the moments under the sun, what remains left of the hardships and the battles, is,. The Bouquet, as even in the wines… it is the complex of aromas that develops with age in fine wines… ya, with age!
The Aftertaste remains, the impression left after the wine washes down the system, the finish of a wine and the balance sheet of life! Fine wines have a lingering aftertaste…
The uncertainties of life weave the Intricate details of overlapping and contrasting emotions, nuances… the interweaving of subtle complexities of aroma and flavor in wines! Huh… all good things come with the clock ticking back, the inevitable mist of the end, the finish… death! It’s called the Legs, the vicious rivulets that run down the side of the glass after sipping; swirling, a mingling of glycerin and alcohol… the residues of a fine drink!
They See, they Swirl and then they Sip – the wine tasters. An art form for the crème de la crème! The high stakes, the huge money and the patient accurate analysis and evaluation, yields dividends!
Do we really care to apply these 3S in life? Do we care to even see through the mist, the translucency of factors that might help us appreciate what we have and what we need to share? Have we ever tried to taste the ‘magic’ portion that seems poisonous to us but is the lifeline of many out there?
The aspects of life are packaged in ways that make us surge ahead. That refines the present and creates the future but forgets the past, the present perfect and the past participle. A value-based system is needed, not a need driven one. A push type movement is needed, not a pull through one! We need retrospection and not a dismissive hurry to beat the heat. We need to share… and not sort; we need to hold and not halt… we need to heal and not hurt.
Life is like wine tasting! Hmmm… in many ways… it identifies the best in class but aint improves the minnows. It identifies the clauses behind the superiority complexes!! It creates the distance and reaps the harvest.
I do not know the smell of the best wine out there, I cannot know a Nebbiolo from a Syrah… a Sangiovese from a Blanc… but I know, when you pour ‘em all down the throat they all lead to nirvana!!
When would we ever learn… when would we ever learn, to discern the unnecessary luxuries of life from the needs of the hour! When would be stand and stare with a caring heart… when would we evaluate and envisage equality? When… when would 3S not led to a void in life but a voyage of equality… when??

(Disclaimer - Ya, its about wine and therez quite a lotta knowhow here... but somhow doesnt reflect on my skills as being a human pitcher/connoisseur... wine n wine tasting...quite an amazing art and quite a lofty subject of life which kinda amazed and irritated me, at the end even puzzled me into feeling a lotta things together.. somehow just tried to scribble in the abstracts... )

harmony

2007-07-12T09:21:00.000-07:00

I was all of five when I realized that harmony in life was a difficult note to strike. And I was also sure that there would not be much of it scribbled in any of the books that the schools or even the colleges would later prescribe. Education is more of a tool to plough the ignorance deep inside the vestiges of human intellect. And what remains is just the ‘fat-free’ (read bland!) fluid of articulate wisdom.
The coconut tree in front of our house would disembark the fruits in erratic intervals. Sans the sound, it did not do much of a harm- you see, nature has a way of its own… serve and protect with a constant life cycle! But lo! Humans don’t find the exact spot on the reed… and so we would have verbal outbursts over coco-jumbo! How dangerous it was! How the owners should periodically get the fruits plucked! And how any day the ambulance would be needed and all cause of the harmless coco! Actually they needed an issue to hurl against each other- as I said, the heavy layers of educated cloak never did calm you down…
We had a fight over the play ground when I was ten! We had just shifted to this new place where the township was planned and well endowed with greenery, space for the kids to run around and even markets and shops et all…
The locality was divided into blocks. And the shared ground was the eye of the storm! Since physically the lay of the land was in a particular block, they would assume full rights!! There was ample space to divide and rule but my! The Brits have taught us a nasty lesson nah…
The afternoons were more of heated banter, scuffles and sore abuses aimed at poor elders, relations or even yet unborn issues!! Again, the harmony seemed to have been damped in the vibrations of life! The football, the cric bats, all watched with in-animate wonder as the symphony of life went into destructive resonance!
Over the house captainship at school- I was edging towards 14 then- we had the juvenile politics. My friend would not be given the hat ‘cause of his poor academic and behavioral records and I was there with decent grades and more than a decent conduct (amen! I was actually trying to find the point of harmony and had missed my earthly lessons…). Now he was all into sports and strategizing for the students’ welfare while I was lost in translation. They gave me the baton, starting as a vice-captain as the norm was, in class 11 and then with the turn of the year put academic excuses to bring my friend in the hot seat… Ha-Ha!! As if they were so concerned about my academic progression and all… The much ado about nothing followed and sides were taken and opinions were given (asked for/unnecessary) while I watched bemused how they were orchestrating the whole score- again, you would know the missing beat!
Over Holi, the festival of colors, our college principal and his entourage created a fuss. I was just about 16 and a half, living away from home… hostel, mess, self-service and selfish interests!! They did not give the holiday, did not allow students to celebrate and even refused to acknowledge the festival with the regional venom. What followed was a mockery of teacher student relationship! Pilferage, fights, abuses and a near naked dance around the staff quarters of our college… ha-ha… vibgyor of life indeed!
Into the wee hours of dawn, the students kept boiling with rage as then the authorities came for meaningless sermons/negotiations/ compassions. Harmony wasn’t missed again!
With the 20’s it was more of a personal issue! The matter of heart and again this time there was hara-kiri! The end of the road brought with it the beginning of a landslide. The wise crack that I was seemed to have lost my notes on the subject! And yet again, all that was left of human emotions can just be classified as a residue of human acrimony. Who was to be blamed and why it happened, knows the almighty, but the ‘silly’ point albeit- harmony was left behind…
Be it collective, be it personal or be it a third party crisis, life never stops, never stares and halts for a helping hand. Be it people, process, policy… we all are just dangling modifiers waiting to be hit and run over by someone else and vice versa. Cause we all have learnt either engineering sciences, medical mantras or judicial artwork! We have been armed to the teeth with degrees, positions of power/money and even a self obsessed curtain of chauvinism!
We laugh for the self, cry for the self and live for the self… in this selfish democracy we vote for the society, we pay tax for the governance and welfare of the state and even salute the tri-color in specific days of national glory! Feigned harmony! We write to sell, we sell to get written about… and then we cry foul when there is harmonic misbalance between the expectations and the rewards!!
I still remember the coconut fall due to the old age gravity and look back at the old age wisdom projecting this act of nature to a harmonious rant! Well then I realize that I have not learnt a lot in this education cycle and the moments of truth have been quite a few… even though the harmonious tune seems not a matter of concern as life flows like water of the Ganges…
And as they say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing- hope you get the pun intended!!

I

2007-06-03T10:10:00.000-07:00

‘Do you drink Mr. Das?’
‘I do’
‘Smoke? Do you smoke often?’
‘Oh yes! They call me a darn chimney man!’
‘Do you do drugs too?’
‘Hey buddy! You getting into my skin now! What’s the matter? They pay you dough to do this? Get a life man- get high… uhhh… I could not quite finish my sentence.
It happens like this- often. The neurons in my head snap off. The iris dilates and the pupil turns hibiscus red- warm tears seem to scorch down the cheeks. Or is it the leftovers of goodness being excreted?! I do not know how the universe contracts so fast but all I see it the blinding white light that seems to burn through the oxygen around- i gasp… I suffocate… I die…

But then like the timed magic of Cinderella, the evils mutate on the dead cytoplasm. Like a thousand conch shells, the goons break my ‘sound of silence’. They make me experience the pain of birth! Being born again- nemesis? They make me shiver in the guilt! They make me cry in pain. They make me howl… for all the abuses. They actually let me ‘live’ a momentary life… ‘cause they would soon take charge of my biological self!
I smell of a thousand vices. I grope for a support and I hunt for words… syllables of help! I look around in earnest for mercy, forgiveness… but my soul is chained. A rancid taste holds me still… like blood stains on a killer-on-the-run!

‘Good morning Mr. Das- hope you had a good night’s sleep… you were comfortable?’
I try to generate a mental match- recognition, but the blur of a human form makes my eyes water. The vacuum in my throat renders conversation impossible. I close my eyes and try to shrivel and hide… but then… is there any shelter for a diseased soul?

Who is he? Was he the one asking questions last night? And did he bring me to this place, as white as the face of death?
I try to get up, I try to stand erect but the medulla oblongata seems to have revolted against me- the equilibrium disturbed, I fall back- unsteady… helpless.
Why? Why did this happen to me? How did it all start- the harpoons of liberation… which would dissolve the reality bites…? And I never realized that I was the game- the hunted! I remembered the psalm from way back into my catholic education- ‘… and the cup overflows...’ ironic how education defines life! It was time for me to drown in the overflowing rot that was of my making.
It was all about money. Not to buy two square meals a day… not just to sustain, grow and fight but it was all about a renaissance.
I grew up to be an engineer and helped a corporation reap profits, being ‘rewarded’ rather offered/given/blessed with a monthly pay! Then I paid my respects to the democratic government and treasury- an honest tax payer! And even saved some, you know, for a bad day! But even after twenty years of corporate su-do-ku I was just another blessed soul! All around me I saw the giants mutate into humongous shapes. Money they laundered could buy ‘a life’ for so many of them… dying without a trace on th demographic radar! The wind vane of our economy marching with the facts and figures, bright smiles for bourgeoisie and outlandish acclaims! Rewards/awards/ accolades measuring out the ratios and proportion of wealth!! I was lost- in this clinical emotionless, surgical atmosphere! Did they not smell the pain? Did they not see the muck- the dirt and disease…didn’t they hear the pangs of a thousand fear, of terror? The fulcrum of the social scales made me giddy- from the heights of my life, I could not bear to look down upon them.
I took up writing. The weapon of peaceful revolution. The under-cover reporting, the naked truths of how money and power were blinding the already myopic lot! I did drugs! I took to smoking; glass and the amber colored fluid… I tried to battle it out with the venom inside!
I could see the democratic preamble being trampled over- the starched ideals of our constitution being burnt in the ‘holy grail’ of social (hiatus) hara-kiri. And I protested! I wrote, published photographs- the evidence for the blinded justice of our nation… even formed a band of brothers- just for a better life en mass!
On the Richter scale, it wasn’t much of a concern, initially… but then, as I said- renaissance!
It was not a Gandhian or a violent up-rising- I would not know how to define it! It was just a protest, a commotion like the molecules in a compound getting agitated for a ‘change of state’!!! It was exothermic yet it did not burn the gabardine of the numbed… it was the beginning of the end and I could see it…
Now I was at the altar- to face the wrath of the high and mighty!! Spoils of revolution you can say… a martyr for the generations to come? Neo-father figure? Ha! It’s all a game you see- a game of the diseased soul, convoluted mind and greedy hormones!! Am the cynic! The matrix that would never let the fractions be generalized! I am the membrane separating them- impermeable! They would never catch me or punish me… ‘cause I am the bloodline that feeds the dirt tracks!! I am the playwright of the twenty first century… I am a master of the game who moves both the white & the black pawns! I am impartial yet can fall for just about any taste or smell- am temporal! They try to trap me, poison me and hold me for the guillotine but then again they won’t know the time for a role reversal. It’s not about money, power or status- it is about destiny! It is about the malleable and ductile social ingots!! Am just the elixir charming through the ranks of civilization. It is all a game of fortune- a deal of sorts that would lead to a control over the lesser-mortals!! And so that would make me??!! The god of small things. Amen! With due respect to the heavens above- I am the umbilicus of life sans mercy!!

sutra dhar

2007-05-29T22:59:00.001-07:00

My mother never brought me up ‘by hand’. Juggling her work… her office, the regulation home maker’s rhythms, she really had enough time to see me through. Of course, twenty years back, life was still uncluttered. The enlightened kid, the democratic parents and the neo-western education system had not yet been concocted into a heady mess. Life was slow, demands were justifiable and ya… the woman still had the back seat. I do not know if the ‘equal music’ has been scored today but I believe somewhere the dignity is lost both sides.
My maa, with an Economics major from the Calcutta University seemed to have mastered a lot of electives on the way! The most important being… an ever smiling demeanor and a strength that wasn’t exactly word-power!
The morning tea, the religious ritual, the newspaper, my lunch pack for school- everything had a definitive, optimized approach, delivery. She never jarred anything beyond proportion. The lunch menu, the directions to the maid, handling the inefficiencies of each member of the family… she knew the reeds too well. I would watch her get ready for the office and there would be an amazing calm; the restlessness would show sometimes but then the adrenalin never took charge. She selected her saris tastefully- as I would say, she never wore a sari twice! But then she knew how to handle her sweetly assembled collection.
She would walk down the road and disappear round the corner, or later when she would ride pillion with my father on her way to office, I would really be curious to know what played on her mind!
My lunch would be measured out in various bowls and neatly arranged; invariably having something that I would love to eat… something everyday… she never missed that. She would call and enquire if I liked the food.
She encouraged my football, loved my essays (though it was she who made me understand the nuances of words and love the language) and listened to all the plans that I would thread for the futures. She believed in the independence- of thought, in action and for consequences. She never told me stories and had to be forced to sing a Tagore’s but she has a lovely voice!!
Her handwriting seemed to have a geometrical measure and symmetry… just like her. Her small note book of accounts, her office bag with the double tipped blue and red pen… her reading glasses and sun glasses! Everything was/is so neatly arranged, accounted for…
She never pressed the rank buttons on me… never tried to decide my subjects… never put the cart before the horse with her demands… she believed in the abstracts of life. She believed in resilience. For her, a smiling face meant a lot more than victory with a vengeance. I never demanded the moon and the sun… that is how I was brought up but then wishes and desires were safe with her… and still is!

The bar of dairy milk still awaits me when I go home… the letters, ya, snail mail, the inland letters, still talk about the principles of life and her support for my decisions and trust in me, of what I am. It does not talk about her needs, her aspirations for me- it does not carry any laundry list of expectations! It carries a lot more than that… beyond words…
How has my relation changed with my maa…. I don’t know. She was a friend, she still is one and maybe I would never know when she donned the motherly cloak.
She tells me the worldly modalities and the various mantras of social living but again never enforces them… be it the finances, the daily management or the career plans ahead. In time life opens up, new people, new relations germinate, metamorphose… the fast pace of existence leaves behind a lot of names, voices… memories. But with my mother… life will always be a one on one! At times I take liberties of a grown up, against her… she never refutes, never tells me to watch out… she just remains silent. And when I realize the folly, it’s so easy to rectify… so easy to say a sorry and mean it too!
She has sacrificed a lot of accomplishments, a lot in the career front, for the people who matter to her. The family is upheld but the individual takes a back seat- the concepts are changing and the guns of equality are firing today. Its not a question of who’s right…..who’s wrong- it’s a perspective that I have grown up with and have a lot of respect, a lot of regards for. Even now she tells me… that I do not have to think about her and that I don’t have to worry about the finances, her old age and all… huh… I guess that’s her. She means it, you can see it in her eyes- a lot of strength, calm and a lurking happyness that has been all that she has ever looked for… strived for… selfless.

Nothing has changed- the smile, the pitch, the emotions, the look, the unspoken spells… the rituals, the gamut of home and office management…. Nothing! Nothing has changed… and it won’t… I know… cause some people, some relations hold us together, above the self, irrespective of time and distance, their magic, their blessings and support remain.
She still is scared of the escalator… never rides a taxi alone even in Calcutta… and not very sure of the electronics around the house but I guess… these never define life! They never define our success… our strength… contributions. So even now when she sits down at the dinner table after serving even the second helping to everybody… life stares at me with all the possessions I can ask for. Maybe I can’t tell her what she means to me… or might be she already knows but still maa… thanks for everything!!

The Room...

2007-05-02T12:23:00.000-07:00

There was dust all around. Spirals of dirt and strands of human hair seemed to spin like a top in the corners of the room. Dying rays from the western horizon added a tinge of red to the dampness around. The books, papers, pens, the red foldable table lamp and Vivekananda-on-a-postcard could be seen arranged around the bed. The bed had a maroon cover, complete with hand woven designs in the color of gold. Powdered with the spoils of time, it seemed holding on to secrets of the bygone. Smells and tastes- spills and splashes of many a moment gone by…
The mirror had lost its reflective shine; in places the mercury had peeled off and the bare glass created unruly patterns around the edges. Its prismatic effect broke down the weak rays of the sun and a careful observation would reveal the vibgyor- the rainbow colors peeping around its perimeters! Ironic- since time seemed to have lost its track within the four walls of this room! Collage and scribbles, now yellowed in time, hung on the walls.
“I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody too? We can be nobodies together!”
“I try a lot, though, to color my joy and pain… but alas! In time only black and white do shades remain…”
Lyrics of western music, hard hitting words… rested on paper- unmindful of the waves of time and purposelessness. The shades of ink- black, red, blue… all seemed to look alike! Don’t we all look the same with age? In time, aren’t the yardsticks and differences nullified? And then the great equalizer of death!
The fan hanging, though brown, had been used to create a trapeze of cob webs. The white fluorescent tube, the electric bulb and the little black switches arranged orderly on the paneled boards seemed to be the only witnesses of the sound-of-silence that had engulfed this space. It takes a careful second glance to notice the pink of the walls- though the dull white ceiling stares back like the face of death. Why do they paint the ceilings white?
The cabinets of hard wood and the single paneled door revolted at the joints. The shrill metallic squeak seemed like a protest of the inanimate- laid to rest in time. The shelves and the drawers all dusty, all empty… all dreary. A slight touch seemed to have a seismic effect as the wooden joints shied away from human contact. In one corner of the cabinet minuscule naphthalene balls were sublimating slowly- leaving behind no trace, save a faint smell of its substance!
Do we leave a trace? Hop-skip and jump- towards the successes of life… towards the fireball of opportunities… towards the unknown geometries of time? The animate-inanimate linkages keep on getting redundant. Dusty. The emotional value also becomes too heavy to subscribe. Like this aged room with the yellows of decay, the past is abandoned.
The birthday cards make me turn the pages to a different era… the tremble of my grandmaa’s hand, as she had blessed her grandson…
The wishes of cousins, love of parents all seem to have been absorbed by the four walls of the room. The air smelt heavy; I tried to open the window but then the stagnating time seemed to have cast an evil spell… or was an effort to shield the evil? The evil of ignorance! The evil of need, greed and business- the evil of the self!
I was selling off this portion of the house. After my parents, there is no one to weave those tales of yester-years with the evening tea, with the setting sun and the noisy crows. There is no one to wipe off the precipitates of time from the objects that had shaped my life- my books, by stationary… by diaries, my letters…
My maa would live her life through these rewinds, returning to the room where her son had grown up. The room where letters germinated into words… sentences and stories. Where impressions of many an emotion would ring in her ears… where there would be an association nurtured… matured… left behind.
I have come back to sell the room. Only a room to me- some unwanted pieces from my past seem to occupy the space I had left behind a long time back. Land of opportunities, green backs and the fames of success! The son who made his parents proud- would say the neighbors!
Would they never smirk too? Would they never see a father and mother carrying the burden of a ‘son’ worthy? Would they never see the room with all its little nothings, like a collage, trying to capture the essence of a son? My room had protected my memories.

They do not seem to like my presence. The layers of dust seem to smear my gabardine. The scribbles on the wall seem to melt in front of my eyes. Strangely familiar covers of books seem to repel my touch. The dry inkpot stares back at me, saying, ‘its over mate’…
My legs give away… nausea suddenly clouds my senses… the dust on my tailored suit matters no more… as I clutch the hand woven bed sheet and the tears trail down. The room I had never looked back to… the people I had left behind… the relations I had forfeited...
As the darkness melts across the skies, I close my eyes… there seems to be a faint aroma of lemon tea- my father used to drink… as I would show him the home work from school after the evening game of football…
I suddenly realize… its going to be a long night, in my return to innocence…

simply... walk along...

2007-04-22T10:46:00.000-07:00

I have always wanted to write a story… an absolute tale trapeze-ing through the unpredictable(s) and emerging as a vibrant lil something that would impress upon the mindscape of readers. Word power- in joys, in pains… bewilderments. A story that would stitch the plots and sub-plots, dramatize, alternate between the dreamy and the dreary acts drenched in the tides of time! I badly wanted to write a story…

And the mitosis of thoughts somehow nucleated around this concept called ‘Love’. This thing called love- an emotion somehow has amazing ductility. Being tensile, it would spring back into empty hearts, dejected gabardines and deserted souls. It defies the probability theorem; it questions the relativity theory and Newton’s third law? The equal action-reaction mantra goes for a six as dejected lovelorn souls string fancy poetry or melodramatic acts of despair. Love is a fluid concept. But my story... of love, of way back into love, of maladies in love, of love’s labor lost- never really did germinate. Do you really have to be in love to write about it? Do imaginations, executions and extrapolation principles fail to strike love? Or is it something- beyond words, beyond lines? Huh…I guess I didn’t pay homage to Cupid.

It had rained hard last night and shallow puddles rested along the pavements. Flower petals, leaves and broken branches floated on its surface like life-less ornaments. Rains wash away so much of life with a steadfast fury but still… as it resides, environs seem like a newly wed stepping into the threshold, scripting another chapter of wondrous emotional hara-kiri!
In that early morning light, I saw an old man, ragged, dirty, bending over the pavement and scooping up a cup of water from the puddle of the potholes near. It was a Styrofoam ice cream cup tossed around by someone and he had picked that up from road- to use as a container… a glass of water analogy as it might be called? I saw him drink the contents, stoop down and have a re-fill. I don’t know his story. Do I even want to? Would the world know his story?

My friend was waiting for an auto. He had to meet another chum and team up for a movie. But time was running out and there were no vehicles agreeing for the destination. He had vocally shouted aloud to the rolling three wheelers but nothing seemed to be working.
‘Do you want a ride till Forum?’, there was this girl shouting as she was boarding her auto. ‘Come on, I’ll drop you there; I am going just a few blocks up the road there.’
He didn’t know how to thank her! Perfect strangers and a girl extending such a courtesy- or have we really forgotten the simple acts of life? My friend rode along- they discussed movies, music and peripheral information concerning jobs, educations et all. They did a Dutch with the fare and parted ways without any thread that might conspire another meeting for these individuals. Acquaintances would you call them? Passers-by? Or just characters enacting a ‘filler’, a commercial break between the acts and scenes of life? They shook hands, smiled and parted- names were exchanged… the names to stay on the radar of thoughts… and then we sew together the dreams, the mad imageries and the nuances of real life to frame ‘our’ stories. Stories, untold, unexpressed, nonetheless evoking myriad emotions deep in the silence of our souls…

When I was a kid, in ‘half-pants’, I would steal 20 paisa or 50 or even a rupee and with my friends buy rubber balls for our afternoon cricket. I would take it from the glass pen stand which had small change which was never counted! We would also pool in our booties and buy small prizes for our weekly tournaments. A comic book, a use and throw pen in purple ink or even a 5-star chocolate! Everything to play for!! There was a strange kind of friendship in which fairy tales were fabricated- spin-a-yarn together joining our lives together, forever! The curious eyes capturing the shifting frames of life, wish I could return to the innocence…
I have lost those faces, forgotten names- with the shifts of time; geographic distance has disturbed the umbilicus of friendship. It remains lost within the pages turned, the cells dead and new cytoplasm born! Do we have any story now? We, who had scripted so many of them in the realms of time, would we ever look back to run through the sinusoids that had driven our past?

Its only love, is it? The life line in the melodramas of life. Or is it a vision of life without love… demanding love! What is it really that stories are made of? Am still searching… for a story, for a love, for this dichotomy that generates the undercurrents in all walks of life.

This is my story. In confused, simple words… this is a story of an effort to walk along… walk along. I smell a story in the air (pun intended:))!!

OH BANDEY...

2007-04-06T10:42:00.000-07:00

Arrre rukh ja re bandey…
Hai badal chaya aasma pe-
Tu naa naoh laga

Garaj rahi hai, baras rahi hai
Unmatt bhaw se lapat-jhapat
Oh bandey peeche toh dekh ek bar…

Bhishan prahar kare kaun naa-jan
Karan naa-jan, seema aanjan
Bandey tu naja re majh dhar

Saath naa chor, oh bandey-Kathin safar hai-
Durr aasma peh kahin likha manzar hai
Bandey tham le hath hamar-

Safar kathin chale hai humrahi
Aanjana sabb des gaye
Larr-jhagar kareb aye hum-
Abhi bandey rukhja tu ek bar!

Ye badal baras hai andar
Mann meh hai dard bhara
Iss sansar meh oh bandey!
Sath chalke bhi nah koi sathi bana…

Toh rukh jah re bandey
Ek bar hi sahi…oh bandey
Iss more peh chor ke naa-
Tu chala chal uss par…

Phir… bandey hum tum kaun kahar-

INDIA STANDINGS....

2007-03-30T02:27:00.000-07:00

The financial year ends and ends thee hope of a world cup triumph. The share indices take a negative slope as even with the upward GDP and GNP trends, inflation rules at 6.5 per cent; import growths edging past the export margins. Bloody battle over Nandigram SEZ rests with the chief minister’s intervention- redemption at last!
And the Iron Maiden, Shakira concerts carried the sounds of western music deep into the head banging junta of India Shining!
The crests and troughs in the days of our lives no more seem to hurt the collective passions of ‘we- the people’! Rounds of abusive text messages, emails of loath and demonstrations of violence await team India. Bob Woolmer doesn’t figure in our prayers- not a moment spent to realize the enormity of clot skewing up sports at the global level. Industrialization leads to murders and still we are not convinced- the triumph of Mr Ratan Tata goes down as a fabulous victory over harried emotional politicians like Mamata Banerjee! Or was it a ‘swift’ move tried out by rivals from the northern regions? With the rolling of a new year, India seemed to have changed lanes, gelled together in several facets to emerge as a potential super nova- some might have gone ahead with a definite stand! Do we really align with the country per se? The high and mighty makes us bask in borrowed pride. We play for ourselves- be it the gentle man’s game or a crafty round of socio-political gimmick!
We do not own up to the happenings of India. Bouts of amnesia and the little knowledge of worldly affairs make us comfortably numb. A plethora of news channel makes us shudder at the ‘Big Brother’ to the Saddam’s execution but still an hourglass witnesses no change in the way we conduct affairs! We do not PDCA- plan, do, check and act. We do not evaluate the individual or the collective existence and essence of the biosphere we call our own!
All and sundry possess an opinion expressed at work place, at home or even a soliloquy while reading the daily papers, but applications, assessments and improvements of the much beaten tracks is never undertaken.
Social workers hog the lime light, footage, while the police provide a villainous touch; politicians and their press conference are all as regular as clockwork! And life for India, our native land traces the down slides of failures.
Individual excellence generates exhilarations rather madness en mass and this hysteria make us dissolve the banal realities that need to be addressed. On a gilded throne we are trying to christen ourselves the numero uno!
‘Water’ made it to the short list in Oscars and we try to align ourselves and wear the whiff of its perfumed glory, while it was our Machiavellian plot, which clouded the shootings in Benaras. Ironically RDB is also hitting on the under belly of Indian politicians! Do we at all realize that? The blunt judgmental myopic existence is taking the Indian-ness out of us! The land that hailed the first civilizations welcomed and juggled a thousand caste and creed needs to show a much matured application- driven by a collective sensibility! The blinkers of selfish dogmas and self-saturation are taking the wind from our sails. But these errata blamed on certain individuals are only a way out! Certain figures, revenues and glorified members do not ‘buy’ a halo for the nation… when would we really strike the rhythm of self and society? When would we realize that burning effigies do not eliminate the root cause!
When would this matrix of unequal expansions stop tearing into the fabric of the Indian landscape?

just occured to me u know!!!

2007-03-21T10:11:00.000-07:00

The magic of first love is our ignorance… that it can ever end

And so it did. Cause there was the magic… of course, then the first love and eventually the very end… but with that was my ignorance swept off its heavy slumber? Like a curious Einstein I would try to create the maze of logical network- a thousand question marks, which might have been a customer survey for a new body lotion!
Nah! I aint shaken off from my ignorant bliss.
Typically there would be ‘n’ number of flashbacks, anecdotes trying to demand footage as the mindscape would be rolling on the latest ballads from mushy movies… suddenly the distant horizon seemed like the land of eternal emotions! A pensive mood, the vacant look and the whirlpool ice-magic effect bringing the temperature down! The cardiac muscles seemed to have a will of their own and strange murmurs would be generated from the hollow of the gastric. A sense of loss- so very well defined throughout my system! Aint signs of true love? The first love?
Now there was time at hand- the instrument of Graham Bell laid to rest in some forgotten corner… some messages of ‘true love’ etched in its binary memory? I fear to erase the ‘true lies’ of the magical feelings- oh! The ignorant me! Wish I could sweep away the clots of hideous cow dung that added to the fertility of my cranium! But again, the manure in time might just lend a rich texture to the ‘soil- matter’ where my emotions germinate?! So I think I would let my ignorance hibernate… with that the chances of another first love would brew in a decanter somewhere nah?!! Hope is thy opium of life boss! But cant the second love be given a chance to move up the ladder… I mean why cannot we have the tales of yore… riding the mighty waves of human emotion, trying to swim through the waves of self-pity? Ah! The experienced love-bird! Cupid would surely be generous with his haywire arrows- some favors for the ol’ horse, wont he?

Nah! Let it be the hopes of the first love… let it be the tunes of the first beat, the smiles of the first touch… cause aint gonna believe that it would wither away. That ignorance is the charm that leads us to surf through the watery walls… the resistance, the resilience, the requiem like a malady infecting through the veins and arteries of our body system! So it never ends, ‘cause it never was… like a shifting shadow, the imagery of love translates from and into the characters that play along in the acts of life… love would keep us alive!

The tears of joy, the drops of sorrow, both stress the lachrymals but alas… the blanket of ignorance is never dusted! Short stories of events, people, their deeds and judgments into the fencings and duets of characters dissolve in the cauldron of ignorance. And let it stay- undisturbed! The happiness of life is in the strength of love- the concentration of acid/alkali which dissolves the salts, residues of love!! Aint possible to dissolve love- aint possible to resolve love… aint possible to love a second time boss!! We really never would know if it was… true love… and if it was! Aint no point marking a second slot…

The magic of true love is our ignorance… of looking beyond its confines.

BINARY LITERATURE

2007-03-14T09:45:00.000-07:00

I am a wordsmith. I construct the concrete jungle/jingle of words to make a living; mostly prose but the hapless heart sometimes strings together the rhymes of a soulful something I never could gauge- rather in hindsight I could not believe my own repertoire!! Not that I am totally unpalatable, but as modesty clouds my judgments, I stutter to waste words of self-indulgence.
Nowadays there aint anymore pen and paper! The royal blue, the washable black ink pots and the blotches of ink stains on the table cloth; many a crumpled draft resting in the basket-of-waste! The fountain pens seeming aristocratic in the pen stands with the gleaming clips of signature brands- parker, the waterman.
The fluid motion of a titanium tip on the paper whites gave birth to expressions! They would take a while to dry into permanence and as long the moist ink
Till then, the volatile, sublime words seemed so vulnerable- like one harsh cross and its existence would be denied, as just an erratum in the mindscape!
How the spin yarn would hop around the realities of past, present and future to knit the vibgyor of social romance! There would also be the imaginative sauce, lending the yard of unsure intrepid ventures, making the presentation wholesome.
But now… they just have ‘keys’ unlocking the dogmas of the literary world. The letters encased, molded in electronic instruments generate binary logic and voila! There is born prose- there unfurls poetry! With a ‘press’ the traces of iterations are erased! The neat whites with smart alphabets arranged- like sure as clock work! Perfect!
The colors and font styles change with a ‘wish-button’ and suddenly no one cares about the hand writing prowess! The signature style of different people, the funny twists and turns of the cursives- all smoothened by the lathe of science!
Grammar is corrected; spell checks and suggestions for proper and better usage…. Touches of unforeseen mistakes, the unusual ways of portrayal or even ‘unknown errors’ which spice up the literature seem to have been imprisoned like bugs in a fly catcher!
Letters are no more posted. The blue inland letters, the ocher hard board post cards and the air mails do not fly around the geographical bounds abuzz with stories, emotions, anecdotes, advice or acknowledgements…
Words have dried as the buttons do not leave a trail of unsure footsteps. The screen behind the mirror no longer stands tall beside the creations of wonder.
And I?
Writing in stories of the yore… when the train of thoughts would run the crests and troughs in the hollow of my brain and slowly approach the epicenter of explosion! And there would be born a prose- a story! The whites would be blotched, the hands would be spotted with the inks and the sun would have slipped back under the western horizon- after a tiring watch over my ‘germinations’! Inevitably it would be the starry night with a cool zephyr tempting the sheaf of papers to escape from the writers’ confines, when the mitosis, meiosis would give birth to the stories…
Somewhere even the nature around would bless this humble word-monger! But now… when I try to hold the oar strong, I falter… the boat seems over burdened and the tides seem too high against the dingy… it’s a scary feeling…
For now I do not know if the broken emotions make its way around in unsure words, if strings of imaginations paint a canvas in myriad hues… and if there is any error between the covers…
I do not sell anymore, for I have no story to call my own… for I never sold stories, I never created illusions… and I never really knew how to dodge the realities of life. To key in words of proportionate emotion, doctored inference and articulate reactions, I never did learn.

But one last story would I write… and I know, the hand would not shake and the letters would roll out with dignity and honor. That would be the story of ‘the days of our lives’ and that would complete the journey for a wordsmith- and it would be done in style! Remember folks… honesty, in words and purpose, never fails an author… on paper the confusion prevails, but in the binary existence of jet age, we might not reveal the inner moistness, under the dermis.
But when the ink dries on with a lasting impression on the papyrus… the shared expanse of life strengthens the cardiac inside! Then we call it a ‘words-worth’!!

way back into love...

2007-03-04T09:12:00.000-08:00

Tracing along the shadows at dusk
Drawn long in the melting rays…
Turning aside for the familiar touch-
For a smile oh yeah! The frown so sweet
As the airs around bring the tunes-
From….Way back into love

And dreams don’t blotch those perfect blues
Where dusts of time have stolen words-
The red rose still of a fragrance known-
From way back into love…

Lost, translated, yeah those moments far
Aint could stop, could hold you back
Do ya stop besides to look back… lady?
When the rainbows gleam in the wet monsoons,
Of our days-
From… way back into love-

Way back into love…

Oh yeah!
A moment stop
The joy ‘o pain
Hand in hand walking down the lane
Lady! Wish you well, such is love-
My treasure chest and that red wind chime-
From… way back into love…

ps: this is kinda effort into song writing.. lyrics so to say.... and got the inspiration from drew barrymore of musik n lyrics.. it was a lovely number there... i just wrote wat all came.. huh..
i just wish i could put in sum musik n tunes into it... help out folks.. but is it ok in the first place :))

THE CHOCOLATE, THE GIRL IN PINK AND A SILLY SMILE…

2007-02-20T08:14:00.000-08:00

The frills and laces bounced softly as she hopped up the three steps to reach the waist high counter. Her's was pink- with a diffusing white towards the hem of the frock that seemed so fragile; quite in contrast to the husky black of the evening and the elders around with their dark shades of attire stained in sweats of toil and blotched with the umpteen upheavals of outrage and despair the hours under the sun had hailed! The cool of a trapped, suffocated urban wind wrapped us in a shawl of uncomforted relief. But there she was quite unaware of the heaviness around and untouched by the sermons of the devils we grown ups have discovered with the years of maturity!
'Uncle!'… And she is out of breath. The run down from the neighborhood seemed to have taken her breath away. Or was it that the obscure people painted in the grays of life, burnt in the scorching sun, now radiated off a certain heat, unsettling her? She was just about reaching the counter of the shop and in her out stretched hand there was a fifty. 'A gel pen uncle', the sonorous voice seemed like wishful music, a tastefully crafted symphony, for even after the words had diffused into the environs around, it seemed to vibrate in the hollow of my cranium. I wished she would shoot her barrel of questions! Black ink or blue! The dozen brands would be scanned or an elderly bargain for a deal on the price! In my mind, startled, a little dazed, kind of lost… I was doing some unexpected, babyish thinking. And I didn't even know the child. But aint we all strangers waiting to be arranged in the neural networks of human relationship? But then what could she be for me? A sister… a friend, or with her blocks of wisdom she might even guide me through the elderly trouble-shoots of life! It is so funny sometimes the way we weave into space and piece in the virtuals of selfish desires, realizing later that quick sands of time have gotten us laid again!
'What's your name', I ask with a barely audible whisper… trying to drag the spills of unreal thinking back to the times at hand. Being practical- focus- shoo off these immature wanderings of my hapless mind…
'Sweta'
She says with the bulging blacks of her eye looking at me with a glitter that makes me shrink. Again the syllables seem to comfort me like 'drops of Jupiter'. Who says the fairy tales aint meant for the grown-ups! The vulnerable edge of the little girl connected to the fears lurking in me; the apprehensions, trepidations, of the years added to my skin and bones seemed to leap out and seek refuge in her nonchalance, the innocence of a little girl.
'Which class are you in?'
'Fourth standard'
The red vermillion and yellow sandalwood on her forehead added to the beauty of this little fairy. Who knew what lines of fate, destiny, were etched for her… what would she grow up into battling against the darks of the night and heats of the day. Somewhere deep inside I wished her well… I never could apply the engineering logic to the tenets of my life but there as she turned back to the shop-keeper for her little deal; I tried to stretch myself back and forth trying to find a place in her little world.
I offered a chocolate, for that was why I had come to the shop myself. Got a few bars of dairy milk for our Pavlovian interests (us- me and my roomies) and offered her one… 'Here, this is for you'.
'No, I cannot take it… no, no…' And she had nodded her head in a strange determination. It was not the usual blush of a child trying to weigh out her love for the chocolate against the prohibitions of accepting stuff from strangers. She was not in doubt and I could see the surety in her eyes- maybe a little bit irritated she was by my gesture.
And she had turned away from me, closing the deal with shop-keeper 'uncle', as I turned back to enter the microcosm of my existence.
Amidst the cacophony of vehicular traffic, of strangers pitted against each other, on road, trying to surge ahead… I suddenly felt a flutter inside. Suddenly the babble seemed to subside; the evening air seemed to carry a distant smell of those white flowers from our garden which bloomed in the autumn. But how could it be possible, for I was far away from home waging the wars of survival!
I turned back once just before the blind left would take me away from her… forever, who knows whether I would even meet her in this fair of life! Who knows whether she'd remember me or the tinge of shame and hurt that might have reflected from me…
She was walking down the steps, the gel pen in tow, the bounce and rhythm in her steps and she looked up to meet my eyes.
A slight smile and a wave I offered to Sweta as I took the turn of this amazing maze of life. Somewhere I realized that years of education, learning and unlearning had not rubbed off certain notes from my music; and it was wrong to imagine, assume, that life would only be a cross of changes… some nuances never wither away. And there is no yard stick to measure, no explanation sought… for some it's just the way of life.
And again, even though she remained a stranger, the girl of standard four made me befriend a shade of my own self.
How we mature is not encompassed fully in the chronometer of survival.
I munched into the choco-bar and a silly smile lit up my face- someone seeing me then would be startled but how would I explain that certain joys were just… beyond words… beyond lines…

LOVE ACTUALLY

2007-02-13T07:38:00.000-08:00

Love. Of making life… nurturing life… uniting…shouldering, even remembering long after it has gone- love, an emotional hopscotch drawn all over the canvas of our being. The Trojan horse in human existence, the Achilles heel of steadfast survival… the matrix behind equations of human bondage- love fuels us, keeps us alive!
Measured wrongly in the pans of give and take, abused repeatedly in selfish interests, misunderstood alas! In the clots of pain, moments of despair, love is the mistress of everyone’s heart. Sometimes we seal it with the tests of time- measure it like five year plans, tie it with threads of social bonds, rituals and inheritance. A macro-level idea forced on the ‘little hearts’, love becomes a sugar coated bitter pill- saccharine!!
It becomes a right! It becomes a demand- it degenerates into evaluations. Love rocks hard the cradle of human existence, only the intensity varies with the tides of time.
Again it is not in the scriptures nor in the sciences and literatures to be understood objectively- it is only in the abstract smells and tastes of human heart that love germinates.
Not statistically bound, not measurable, not even visible to the x-rays of civilization (!!)- this darn thing is the salt of life without which all the dishes seem bland.
If oxygen fuels the biological, physical attributes of survival, love is its universal catalyst. Building blocks of life cemented together in love- even the seeds of destruction are watered by the loves astray…
What is it… what it is that can launch a thousand ships? What is it that breathes life into the white marbles on a full moon night… what is it that defines the threads of human relations and beautifies the prowess of humankind in the facets of life? What is this love actually?
Well… love is a book of synonyms & antonyms. Alphabetically, it generates all the feels and passions but in time the screen behind the mirror tests our grammar of life :))
It generates happiness! Utmost joy… in the togetherness, the trust, the shares of little nothings of life. The suns bright in the space shared, where the rose’s red enchants the soul! Dreams bubble in the frizz of childish banter, naughty whispers and solemn promises… till death do us apart?!
Love gives us a reason, makes us look out to the unexplored, to walk that extra mile… to make someone feel special- and to feel that tinge of selfish owning, the right!
But with seasons in the sun… the winters follow autumn; the rains lash on after the warm summers bid adieu. In the twilight of love, we walk away… walk away from the castles of time, the sketches of much debated dreams… the desires of awaited futures- together.
The lashes of rain hitting the metals of construction in the rhythmic fervor… the rumbles afar like fury unleashed from the dregs of the heart… and the tears washed away in the incessant rain- seeps back into Mother Nature.
The panel of juries holding court inside the chambers of the heart battle out the Q’s &A’s and we win every time- alas! To win was never the objective! To evaluate was never the motive, to analyze-no! But love’s like that… the sinusoids sometime have phase shifts which blow the fuse of life. Huh, aint possible to get an electrician for that :))
Love’s lost… the papers of obscure tales (fairy-tales!), those letters… words remain… voice rings in the hollow of the cranium and darkness envelops the logics of existence. The pain tears into the muscles of strength and craves for the familiars.
People do move on… they discover stories of love in times another, the suns await them in distant hemispheres but love? Never dies… trickling through the arteries and veins of life it gives us strength, makes us weak, portrays the joys and sorrows together in one reel cause life is all about those ‘opposites’ written in the language of love! Deep within we know… love actually… is the greatest magic of life!
To those who have felt it… the moments remain beautiful, for even if the letters have been smudged in the tears of pain, sense of loss- love still is the favorite ring-tone in the ‘cellular’ combinations of our life!!
Like a candle in the wind… it flutters, scared, vulnerable, shivering… but aint gonna blow out- how can it, when, love is in the air… huh!

reflectionz.... don wanna lose them...

2007-02-03T22:50:00.000-08:00

We would arrange friendly matches, cricket, during the summer hols. Pooling in one rupee each, various prizes would be taken. Comic books, rubber balls, use-and-throw pens and once we even had a round ‘electronics’ watch. Actually the watches were given as a freebie with some health drink and someone had already had half a dozen- decided on some good hearted charity! And so! We had everything to play for and bag the digital dial. There used to be three match, five match series.
Collecting player profile cards during world cup; the prized Maradona, Pele and Klinsman would be hunted for! Exchange schemes, deals struck and card counts compared daily- little envy, considerable pride! On birthdays we had to buy those bubble gums (cards coming free with them) for everyone but you could keep the card! A sweet lure to egg the b’day boy into being benevolent for his own prosperity! It was so precious for us- our own concept of shares and debentures!
Sharing our worldly possessions was the convention. Video games, story books, cricket gear, indoor games or even those ‘phoren’ chocolates we would get from relatives offshore- it was one big treasure trove. The gang would meet whenever there was something new added to our property list! Running around the neighborhood, shouting out names, in no time we would be all happy faces- proud and richer!
Academic interests were shared too. Class notes, books, ‘egg-jam’ rescues or even the ruckus at school- forever partners in crime J
During the umpteen religious and social festivities, we would go around the locality in all finery, trying to match steps with elders around. Rendering help with over-enthusiasm when someone would ask for. Arranging flowers for the deity, serving food for community lunch or putting up skits for the evening function, we would co-star in all the verticals of life.
Sitting down, tired bodies, we would plan some ingenious strategy; solving any local problem which we would have inkling of (from censored elderly conversations) to deciding on a winning combination of our cricket team, we would gate crash into all the domains around. And we always perceived that we could make a difference in a big way!
The girls in the group would complain a little about cricket and football though some were exceptionally good athletes! They would win the tack events of the community sports- those desiring indoor game sets would be given off to them! Still, we would all huddle in the next day and life didn’t change J
Girls were especially good at the fancy dress competition! Aided by their maa, they seemed to walk away with all the goodies. We would always blame it on their elaborate dressing skills, their natural make-up habits and sigh… hahaha!
There was nothing shameful in asking for a second helping… or even a third… and we believed in this mantra even during ‘aunty sponsored’ meals at each others’ place. Chatting, shouting and guffawing with an excitement that was never moderated by the scolds. And even the ‘kakimaas’, as we used to call our aunts (friends’ mother) would never tire of us! There was never a gap between the son and the rest of the group. Affections and rebukes were shared equally- but they really never made us change!
We never changed, or so we felt!

Climbing up the ladder from the rudiments of education to middle school, we were all a bunch of friends who walked the path together. Who had never thought about taking, exploring the by lanes around. Who had never tried to measure out certain aspects and see how life would seem without certain shades, certain people!
Who never feared… of change.
But the metamorphosis had begun inside each one of us. As education and social commandments showed us the individual track of life! The importance of ‘I, me and myself’ mixed in the veins of a gang of friends… like air bubbles trapped in a vessel, the collective bunch started to keep aside some oxygen for selfish interests. ‘We’ were just a collective ‘I’ only. And we never realized how time ate away into the forts of our friendship.
People re-located, new people came in; the zombie of Indian education system started strangling us with school, tuitions and examinations! Of all those virtues of science, commerce and then again graduating and working with dignity in the same substrate- society!
The evaluations were pasted on each one of us, as if suddenly the kids were no more friends but rivals- fighting out for the morsels and armed to the teeth with varied resources. Even… even parental affections seemed colored as kakimaa seemed no more like ‘my’ own.
The sharing of possessions stopped, slowly, and even those knowledge sharing were banned by some social dis-trust! Hahaha… time played hara-kiri with the gang of friends… and now! In time, has died the sweetness of a bunch of kids who had looked at the panorama of life together- hand-in-hand!
Did anyone ask them whether they wanted to change? Were they given a chance to re-group and battle the titanic of time? Or did anyone help them to retain the collective smiles, their essence of life?
I have lost them with the years. In moments of strange silence, pains, tears or even utmost happiness, have missed them. Their antics, their laughter, their cries and even the scuffles we used to have! I have just missed the silly smiles which never faded.
Or even would I recognize them, more than a decade after the cross of changes? Ironically it’s no looking back. The ladder rungs swinging in the airs of life and the ascending climb would be hindered with this stoppage.
Those ‘half-pants’, t-shirts, frocks and ribbons have given way to brand formals, starched manners and corporate codes.
And so, as I now walk down the winding puzzles of life, maybe I meet my friends from the days of yore… and brush past; or in measured silence or words, and the new found etiquette just maintain a distance.
Life has become a stranger for me. I am running fast they say, I am running good, they even have given me a handsome raise- they have clapped and toasted to my success! They have really made my life- where the past is prohibited. Where the future gobbles down the measures of present to suffocate existence… where friendship translates into profit margins. And here- I, me and myself- just lost in translation!

Sourav, Sanjay, Chotka, Ruku, Bapi, Pompi, Papai, Tultuli… even some names now escape me but am I complaining? I have to fly down to Japan tomorrow and rake in a new deal with the conglomerate there.

The shadow of happiness...

2007-02-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

Measures of life hard done by gloom
Grains of sand hour-glass fill
Stains left by the scorching heat-
As life seemed sacrificed in the temple of doom

God of small things- those temples reside
Rituals and lore- threads of belief
In prayers and offing, our selfish need-
Measures of life in benevolence decide!

Benevolence, the virtue, of the blessed soul
Those tales of yesteryears- bygone
Shares of joys and pains alike
Yellows of life, from the parchments unroll…

Seasons of the sun, those parchments grace-
Pendulous life, the waging wars!
Efforts to steal every inch of ground-
Where the shadows of happiness did impress

The shadows of happiness- color o’ rainbow!
Born of tears, the pains of life-
And far away on the creation canvas
Do light up the horizon in its celestial glow.

Ordinariness of life in the celestial light!
Peeps out to shake the slumber melancholic
As again the distant dreams germinate-
With the vibgyor of life in the distant bright!!

THE UNKNOWN ERRORS OF OUR LIVES

2007-01-11T19:29:00.000-08:00

The unknown errors of our lives- bugs entwined within the dendron-dendrites of our nervous system, subtle. Nevertheless they thread together many puzzles, anecdotes, coloring the canvas of our humane existence. Frame work of livelihood shaped by banal social mumblings, starched parental commandments and family heirloom! The lessons through the educational escalator bring the smells and tastes of ideology. Beliefs germinate. Thoughts undergo mitosis-meiosis- catalyzed by nucleus borrowed from the learned. The reflections of life on the canvas high above, dotted with puffs of cloud; the shimmering waters of the bays dissolving the myriad emotions. Stories, flashes, happenings of our existence get documented somewhere in the vast expanse of this biosphere. Some metamorphose into legends- like a butterfly, wooing us with the splashes of life on its wings! But like countless scratches on a battered wooden desk in kindergarten, the stories of our ‘lub-dupp’ (the heart beat…) gets documented routinely in the infinite scrap book of humankind.
And those unknown errors? Like the game of ‘odd-man-out’ poses a challenge to our intelligence. Over the rumblings of time, the overlap pings of feelings and inferences, we try to touch the jugular! It’s like feeling through a crate of mangoes in the early summers for the ripe one! The slight smell, the soft-to-touch and the golden tinge over the green skins- our sense and sensibilities! The jumbled pile of books, varied shapes and size, from which we try to pull out the errors… the unknown errors that have become intrinsic to our collections. We have turned the pages but the indelible black scribbles, like little slaves of misery, refuse to yield from the whites of our gabardine. As they say- errors have no classification!
We give up trying to shoo off the errata, as the egotist within line up logical and emotional wordplay in the courtrooms deep inside the sanctum of our hearts. The vibrations of emotional upheaval, high and low, trying to assuage the pride hurt by those unknown follies.
But these accidental happenings, short stories of misplaced happiness, never really fade off. For some they generate strength- to strive, to seek and not to yield! For others, melancholy shrouds the senses or delirium sets in, grief. Despair, a sense of loss, a bazooka of questions fired within. The unknown errors of our lives and we can’t feign innocence! Interesting, funny in the way the symbiosis of life hit against individuals and rub of opposite emotions! Love, hatred; revenge, mercy; trust, suspicion; bliss…or just a void. Pain is like an endless matrix program- devastatingly kaleidoscopic! Pain is beautiful, like the way they coalesce, like soap bubbles in foam, to paint a picture. There is always a story, sometimes a fairy tale, sometimes of a selfish giant but still motions of life come alive even in the misdoings of us!
And in time, those haphazard piles of books, those shameful pages in our records, those broken lines on the kindergarten desks, all of them become a part of us! The individual that we are! Untouched by the high waves of educational mayhem, far from the demands and obligations of social contracts (relations!), we discover the story of our life! No longer do we try to shun the misgivings; no longer do we try to question the trappings of life- no longer do we measure out emotions.

Those stories remind me of cloudy monsoon skies, rumblings afar, a chill in the air and the celestial mist cleansing the blessed lands. They transport me into foggy winters with dew drenched environs, as if my pains have been shared by the natures around! I am not alone. My story, the unknown errors of my life intrinsic to me, made me come alive. With the bundle of questions, the disheveled emotions and misdirected blames I have scribbled my existence! And they cease to be errors anymore. They aren’t unknown to me! In them I see the subtle realities of life, the clashes of existence and the hara-kiri of human lives pitted against each other, where it’s always a lone battle!
And now when the alphabets would arrange itself, like a constellation of stars, they would just tell the story of me. The unknown errors of my life would be lost, like big bang explosions a million light years away… but just like the lights from those dying stars, they would continue to hold hands and create the halo of my existence!

the smile...

2006-12-26T07:46:00.000-08:00

2006 would wrap up its dramatics in a few days. The changing of guards, the calendars and diaries- even the year planners would be put up, waiting to be filled in! The business war path planned, the educational track laid down or financial strategies chalked out- bull run or the market corrections! Celebrations in Goa, a zoom out ‘phoren’ trip or partying through the night and day- the cross of change!
The resolutions processed in our biological CPU’s, the dreams, wishes and sincere prayers for the Almighty, just for a rocking year ahead!
Looking back to the ’06 after the death of Christ, I feel strange. Like a tumble tosser ride! Before turning the pages, before signing off the 365 days of tête-à-têtes I take a moment to turn back and stare. And with the passing seconds… I cannot help but SMILE’!! J Emotions, threads of intangible elements have given way to mathematics and logic! Too fast and furious; what we know as lean and agile livelihood! Life is a lot more simple. Decisions are a lot more quick and the after effects absorbed with ease… and healing lot faster!
That life is an ever changing canvas, that colors and shades are composed of underlying hues and that some battles are never won, I realized with the days that melted into weeks and months.
But the most important thing that led to a halo around my head J was the sense of profound happiness! And that was at the fag end of this annual cycle!
The joys of life are relative, yes- but the expectancy of bliss should be minimal from the environs around! The pains of life, the have-nots and the damning questions that are never answered generate a lot of cloud- for which the self aint responsible.
The tricks of life, the physics of existence sometime lead to disasters but ya, we do come out with the rising sun and fight, dream, try to build the glass palace again. I realized how hapless a dreamer I am! And there was a joy in those dreams. And it is now a part of me- like a heady mixture of real and virtual that makes life vibrant- KALIEDOSCOPIC!

I have my bag of prayers, my selfish demands, my fears and scars to carry into the seventh year of the 2k series but the zephyrs from the year gone by would always make life fluttering!

Incidents, people, reactions, actions, responses- the seven saints in me (ah! U can get that from the translation of my name…) learnt that convictions in life never change and change might be a constant factor in life but the rhythms that play the joyous overtones within us never grow out. Phase shift into corporate whirlpool, first salary, travels to the hills of north east, responsibilities in team work, projects, tunes of new age music, elation over sports events and last but not the least- relations of life… 2006 was bountiful!
What I have and what aint there, the measures of existence can never be explained but as the smiles linger on and a mock salute is offered to the dying rays of a wonderful year, I must say- life’s a beauty and ‘the juice is worth the squeeze’!!

A happy new year to all of you out there… and hope the words never die, only get drenched in the vibgyores of life- like a pretty woman! Asta la vista ‘06

hey Jude.... take a sad song n make it better...

2006-11-29T04:01:00.000-08:00

Take a sad song and make it better…
Hey Jude… take a sad song and make it better-

The clouds conspire as a rumble rolls across-
Tapestry enclosing the rhythms of life.
Airs around in sudden urgency
As elements of earth anoint thy self

She’s going away without a try
Without a tear, hug hold heal-
Without a word, without a chance-
Without the love or dreams desire.

Hey Jude, don’t give it up!
The chords of life on your fingers play
Friend you are of another time-
Don’t leave me at the end of day

With the suns and moons, life hath changed
Some grown, some return to innocence did
The songs of life did transform around
Still unmatched remain, Jude, those unspoken words timeless bound!

Nature rolls over or is it the storm inside?
Sinusoids of existence riding high-
The sad song still comfortably numb!
Alone I stand with the broken threads- the soulful symphony!

You take my song, the sad song I have
Your magic wand- better you make-
The precious moments now tucked in time-
Don’t let the changes take my breath away…

Jude… without you it’s a sad song-
With you I never had a chance
Only in dreams did it divine seem
The mystery of life in myriad hues-

Like a magic portion, the tales of yester years
You played the Piper for the soul entrapped
Now you’re gone with the songs of yore-
Muses remain afloat inside… like times before.

The sad songs and happy ones alone I ride
But selfish me, in times ‘o pain-
Look back in the pages of music- Jude,
To take my sad song and make it better… again…

Just 26 pieces

2006-11-16T06:27:00.000-08:00

Grey translucent plastic made thee box
Of circular profile with a black lid tight
Lurking inside some ‘colorful shadows’

Unsure hands in giggles delight
Let the little plastics strewn afloor
Then in sudden silence stared at ‘em!

Crazy patterns, arranged- disarranged
Shouts in glee, little toothless wonder
Syllables pour, broken, like pearls from a necklace thread…

Finger pointed as mamma taught-
A… B… Eeee, then ‘O’- lips drawn close ‘n eyes bulge!
‘Mum… Mum’ with M- the umbilicus of life

In mind, her thoughts, waves of rhyme ripple
Like colors of life slow a rainbow form…
And letters of existence on her mindscape arrange

Letters, the words, the slaves of burden!
Of thoughts, of dreams, demands and prayers
But in a child innocent… abstract lie

Or is it some lullaby, some mantra to change-
The maladies that clout existence ahead?
The broken syllabi of a virgin soul

We never know the abstract words,
The touch of letters, of shapes anointed with sounds-
As a child feels the pulse of life.

In time the matrix arranges itself- articulate
She learns the wisdom that blesseth the race
No longer remain that magic of colors in her plastic box

Words, the letters- team twenty six
Paint us in colors as the years add on-
As life moves on the sledge of time

That had begun around a translucent box
Expires some day with those letters arranged-
The tomb stone regards or maybe newsprint memoir!

Only words remain in the journey of life
All grammar bound- worldly wise!
As…from those strewn pieces she creates seasons in the sun!!

Behold! All puzzles of this planet made of just 26 pieces…

screen behind the mirror... tag@somya..

2006-10-28T07:54:00.000-07:00

Believing in god (i took to 'gawd' courtesy those phoren paperbacks!!) was difficult cause he never beeped on my radar. i don even know if i have a gender bias (up there!) but still i aint complaining since i get a truck load of clothes for durga puja, sweets in diwali and just simple holidays for the religious overtones...
was trying to thread in a story for the new post... but then its still germinating inside :)
this is my first tag and i have only one to thank (translucent destiny... but words uncluttered:)) not being formal... words mean a lot n sumwhere i find they light up blog-o-sphere in delightful ways

there are many who have led me to shape up, grow up, (sometimes even refusing to... return to innocence) rise and fall... names n faces, moments, emotions, incidents n most important dreams- for all the rides down the lanes n bylanes, i thank thee all for being my 'god(s) of small things'!

(1) i have a bad habit... of giving gyan, even when u would just be looking for a patient ear! i mean good, i just try to plug in the holes of thought process n show the simple enlightened path. but u would be looking for a shoulder, just the support and instead get sermons- aint good naa?
just that i try to be the good samaritan...
and am impatient; just-in-time concept, somewhere cant wait for the apple to ripen n fall!!
and i dont forget incidents, non-commercial memory is damn sharp n it hurts sometimes... wish i could just move on- complete.

(2) first impression would be studious, no-nonsense, all-work-no-play guy! myth!!!!! never studied anything beyond english, bengali, mathematics and biology; no tricks in my bag to woo the examiner n get those % going! i can play round the clock n prefer debates, discussions... just words n no breaking ice issues with me! ya, am not diplomatic- sometimes the impressions hurt coz we all look for the sugar coated bitter pills (saccharine!)
they feel i run away from my age, but then fun in life can be in subtle different ways also!

(3) i can talk... ya, i can- on and off stage, i can but then not commercial. i cant sell you a new toothpaste. i can just give u an honest opinion. i love debating, discussing topics n trying to make a difference in life per se... with new faces also am my old self- maybe i cant market myself that good but then some precious things aint up for grabs naa!
words mean a lot to me and i like trying to paint things that are 'beyond words... beyond lines'
i feel what all i say n then it just pours out- words(worth) industries ltd. private sector!!

(4) i love... scribbling, reading, music, debating, badminton, football, travelling, swimming and eating! wanna write books someday :) current fav song is aajnabee ( janeeman), tere bin (wo lamhe) and from the phoren lands.... 'with or without u', 'boulevard of broken dreams', 'sound of silence', robert miles, enigma and GNR. love instrumentals and meaningful lyrics.
have travelled all over amchi india and now saving monies for the lands across the seas:)
hurts that am not a good singer but then the chords do string inside :)
n i love red, the seas n mountains, the rains, the blacks of the night, pet dogs, chocolates, coffee, my parker pen collection (esp. fountain pens i love!!) and driving!

(5) superstitous? nope. life has given me things the hard way; its not like self empathy but there has never been room for goodie charms... carrying flowers to exam halls, my old fountain pen and walking together with the same bunch for exams might seem odd, but then it felt good inside. and somewhere i have this feeling that things that happen to u very easy aint meant to be- soon they just wither away. so apprehensions aplenty. my pals think am pessimistically a realist; but trust me, i always dream of winds of change.... for just the smiles!

(6) i love dancing when no onez around! i can be the M. jackson, the Prabhudeva but then amen! hidden talents. but to be true there have been very few occassions when the heart has just leaped out of the rib cage n danced to the tunes around. i fear dunno what... but would really just dance a wild someday- cheers to life!! someday, someway.. yes!

(7) unpredictable- yes, but with people who would know that i don mean to wage a war or wreck havoc. to know that they take u as ur intrinsic... inside out they know, the moods surge sometimes. overall am just a normal biological sample. ya, to know more... let the sandy hour glass flow. sigh! lifez fast all around, so...

(8) i like people easily- YES! but then hurts when the images are offset from the object, the reality. i hate from the heart, i love from the soul and its visible. am not 'worldly wise'. rather i choose not to be! am humane, rustic, blunt but ya... am honest and not a hypocrit :)
but with times, emotions are penned, scribbled n the out bursts have come down. to be happy in a microcosm... but still ultimate dream of life... to have a whole bunch of friends... over coffee, looking back in life n smiling for all the tides of time- coz in life every relation matures from friendship only! and i do believe, trust, the goodness of life~

ps: a friend once said... everything in life ends in happiness n if it has not... then it is not over yet! ya, debatable.... but again with hope, the opium of life, i walk along!

Future of the past...

2006-10-10T08:57:00.001-07:00

Mostly pain
Mainly tears
A strange dampness-
Like a mist engulfs.

Vulnerable soul,
Now lacerated again
Bangs on the ribs grown hard-
With the storms umpteen

Burnt sands of time
Once hour glass filled;
Scalds the dermis
That hid scars bygone.

No trace, no marks- waves retreat in silent obedience
Pasts relived in bouts, in pangs!
In oceans ain’t lost the ruins-
Ain’t lost the moments once washed by the tears of hurt!!

Phosphor element on the black waves high
Shines pretty, though washed in pain
Flashes of smile, a sudden remembrance-
Like the smells of earth with spells of rain.

Little nothings of smiles in bliss
Some frames frozen sans ‘negatives’ of life!
Treasures collected over journeys long-
Splashes across in careless whispers~

Strengths enriched in pearls of laugh
Lost somewhere in the blacks yonder-
Searching hard for hues to paint…
Canvas of time, in thy present frame.

Future of past in the presents lie
Vibgyor shades some drops of black;
Emotions harp the sinews inside-
On the ‘waves of phosphor’ unto thee we ride!!

HEY...

2006-10-05T09:23:00.000-07:00

I am nobody... Who are you?? Are you a nobody too?

We can be nobodies together!!!

The kite runner

2006-10-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

The kite was floating away and I could just make out the string ‘attached’… dangling like a thread from its past. It swayed away as if having a will of its own. Bare feet I climbed out of my hole in the wall and ran…
The red rhombus seemed to invite me, allure me as it jerked in a loop gaining speed. I ran with the wind in my ears.
Sky was a radiant red on which the puffy clouds seemed like dressing on a wounded beast! I was Ulysses then- to strive, to seek and not to yield.
In my 12 years of existence, it had been a rabbit chase as the carrots moved away, quite mysteriously always! Never had the parental cocoon. Germination with foster parents, uncle from the maternal family tree. The metamorphosis as an individual happened beyond my years.
Growing up in the cross of changes had added to the good luck of my woes. Open economy, the IT boom (crash, boom, bang!!), dirty cash seemed distant from our ‘haveli’ of yesteryears. Lo! I, another brick in the wall, trudged to recreate my dreams, at times even steal it from the clutches of the unknown called ‘faith’! It never seemed to belong to me anyway…
The convent education, electronic armory and smells ‘n tastes of the nouveau riche rubbed on me. No! Not my soul.
I chased the kite, as it spun in sinusoids with a playful zephyr- catch me if you can!
Lanes and by lanes, eyes fixed on the object of desire, I chased… somewhere I didn’t know what I wanted? What I was running for?
My cousin of 22, my dearest possession. I always took her as mine. The affections of a brother were overwhelming but again maybe I held on to her with a virtual demand! Of all those love, relations and tremors I had never had.
And she had painted the canvas with every shade-just for me. Her joys, tears, her demands, requests and dreams all seemed to leave a trail on my gabardine. As if we were into some strange conspiracy, only we shared… some times even the sound of silence.
‘Jitesh likes me you know’ her eyes shine with a tinge of mischief and innocence. ‘A date this Saturday, what say dumbo?’, and I would get the hair ruffled!
‘You know I want to be a journalist. There is so much that we all walk past by everyday and not batter an eye lid. Life is not just page3 or red carpet politico na? The common men with their uncommon lives- dangerously beautiful brother!’ The smile on her face then would have the glow of the morning sun, warm!
With a sudden thrust the kite fell rapidly. Disappearing behind a roof, out of sight! The white house belonged to Mr. Asif Ahmed. Locked for the last six months; he had joined the crème de la crème of the Indian populace and fallen for the green card and green backs.
Near miss! But then ancestral instincts grew strong as the adrenalin rushed to the sinews and limbs, time to scale the walls. I remembered… good fences make good neighbors.
Uncle and aunt had the wars of corporate regime- matured battles of life that left little time for the nuances of life itself to unfurl. Sometimes I wondered if orphan meant me, my sister or the super set?
Her emotions had the softness of caramel, ha-ha… my love for the chocolates. The years added to her beauty but somewhere shelled the mushy Ritika inside. I even played big brother when she would mistake between the matured concepts of love, friendship, infatuation, attraction! How had I known the subtleties? Actually it was a desperate effort to ward off her tears, to shun all those ailments that made her cry… in the process the Vibgyores of life focused on me.
Debates of distant future, crimsons of happiness, promises eternal- all of them! I never separated us! We were on the same boat and that was my happiness. The steer was in her hand… imaginations! I just wanted her to be there forever.
Getting married, all those naughty excitements and wild imaginations, unspoken, but again we would share the frame. Trips to distant lands, cuppa coffee and walking back in time… there would be new faces, relations but somewhere she would be my life line! I always considered us as family- and it would remain that way?
I could not see the kite from the first floor verandah. The beast had donned its black cloak and suddenly it seemed dark! Only a distant blood red, remnant of the day gone by!
‘Asif proposed! Oh my God! You won’t believe! He gave me this ring and just said those magical words… there was so much of emotion in his words, honesty… he looks at me with a warmth as if, you know, I feel just…’ I was not listening anymore.
In love she was! Ain’t no words, no analysis, it was truly, madly, deeply!
She played with the ring, danced around the marble and even let the sound of music reverberate.
I could see the kite. The tentacles of the old television antennae had stopped it for me. For me really? As I walked towards the pillar, I felt the pain for the first time… or was it the second, a familiar sting from where blood was oozing out-caked with dust and dirt! Comfortably numb- world without Floyd? Orphaned!
There were issues of the neo-secular beliefs. But universal love stood out, over and above as ‘parents’ conceded! No one asked me; only the warm smile from my brother-in-law to-be was to be my assurance that she was right in stepping into holy matrimony!
Asif was into some main frame domain that was dominant in US of A! Wow! The world’s most powerful nation- luxuries, advancements, it’s so beautiful- I was told.
‘Deep finish off school and come to US, you can do your graduation there. The entire world would open up for you! Wow na!’
The kite was torn. The paper had been punched badly by the aluminum projections of the idiot box. Still it was fluttering in the wind, as if to free itself for the last flight! A last try.
I had never known tears… never seen death; never had precious moments stolen, never feared cause had little to call my own.
But then the vapors clogged inside. She was going…
From the day I had known about the proposal, a colossal fear had frozen my soul- slowly.
There were colors of every shade in the wedding. There were people with smiles radiant and gifts galore. The blessings poured on the newly weds- to begin a new life?
What about the old? Or really can life be partitioned into phases? The roles changed, characters left out, like some sequel to Hollywood blockbuster?
I took out the kite, with care, with a sense of belonging. The evening breeze tried to shear off the gaping hole in it. But no, I clutched it close and sat near the wall.
She had gone to the land of dreams, with her love, with the vows of a new life… in her joys escaped a moist tear or two and I got a hug, lots n pots of kisses n a good bye.
With the jet plane flying away I realized that 12 years had been a story, a journey as a by stander. It was Her emotions, Her dreams, Her pains and joys I had called my own. I had tried to learn about life just to keep her safe from the pot holes. And now it would be Act2 of her life…
I had run behind the car, could not control… tried to tell her that we were a team! We were supposed to be together, in a frame but then… the thrust of a new beginning left behind the whirlpool of smoke, dust and pain!
She had worn a sari; the colors remained blur… remains a blur even now. With time life has moved but then I still await someone who would again need me to be part of their act.
Or was it time to act out my own? My hole in the wall was damp after the rains but somewhere the smell of my pain mixed with the airs inside… ha!
I sat with the kite; I knew I would not be missed- by people who had the graver battles to fight, who had the phases of life to traverse, ‘cause I still had not written the act of life around myself!
As a tear escaped from the lachrymals, I slowly felt the vapors giving way to the smell of flowers-flowers of the night.
I left the kite and walked back to begin, at last, the journey of my life- jatra suru.

ALLY...

2006-09-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

With sinusoids of life, it’s high and low
Grains of sand in the hour glass flow;
From the break of dawn till dusk at bay
Vibgyores of life- some shades of grey.

Canvas of life ‘etched dreams… desires-
Varied beliefs many faiths and friars!
A quiver of emotion- the fuel of life
Not to yield but efforts to strive!

Clad in black, the maidchen still,
Soothes the soul ‘n sores she heal
A zephyr lilt in the chill of night,
Some hooting owl out of sight

In sound of silence, the starry sky
Body and soul- in conversation lie
The balance sheet of praise and blame-
Moments of pride and bouts of shame~

Strings f emotions is all you got
Of all the hours and battles you fought
But wiser you get as sleep steals by-
In the cycle of life your constant ally!!

black and white...

2006-09-23T04:23:00.000-07:00

On the whites of life
Etched words in black!
Of life and death-
Of dreams, desires
Emotions penned, lo! Tides of time washeth away…
As memories remain.

A black of you behind you rides
White flashes your path ahead;
The color of life you wonder might
In peace, at war- of lefts and rights,
But grey inside is what you feel~
Past, present future encased in a reel!

Black of night dissolves the day
When tired eyes close tight shut-
Aspirations filled- unfilled remain
… Still again from east He peeps
Sun god with his radiant red!
And puffs of white on the sky blue shade-

Skins of divide, wars of rage-
Look down upon black.
Rules of white;
Violence won non-violent way…
Universal truth the red inside-
Whites blacks only scars to hide

Tales of pride and prejudice lost!
Men of honor some lying in dust
Of paints on canvas- fabric of life,
Only black and white now races remain…

I try a lot, though, to color my joy ‘n pain
But alas! In time… only blacks and whites do shades remainJ

to-be-or-not-to-be- A Woman!!

2006-07-10T06:34:00.000-07:00

"The swayamvara was mine

The decision my father's...

My life was pledged to a bow and arrow

My life an offering to the shooter of the fish...

Years went by... we

Started on our journey's end towards the snow clad Himalayas

I fell first, no Pandava stretched a hand

Towards paradise they walked,

Then i realised heaven too must be only for men. "

(I, Draupadi)

well, if this be true, how beautiful would it be for a sinner:) zooming up to the hell(s) above!!

knocking on heaven's door?nah.... to come full circle in death, the devil's den would be colourful!!i guess we would never get the equilibrium with gender bias... on one hand therez fancy poetry eulogising 'em and then again all around we have signs of macho chauvinism. it is really difficult to objectively evaluate the place of women in the social canvas.

The greatest tragedy of life is not death but loss of hope…

2006-07-08T08:29:00.000-07:00

Death is the cornerstone of life. The universal truth that marks the end of a life cycle. Along the journey of life we encounter different individuals, we commit to different relations and are bound by some certain duties and attributes that culminate into emotions- a certain intangible worth! So even, just as at the end of the game, as the king and pawn go back to the same box, there are tears shed, there is ‘emotionslos’!
For individual, or for even a multitude, death is tragic, devastating but then again what is it that helps the same eyes to look up ahead? What is it that makes them rise and shine… to strive to seek, and not to yield (Ulysses)? What is it that makes life beautiful even in death? It is hope…
As with every passing second, the past, present and future swap their domain, the only thing that remains constant over these real time shifts is hope- a faith or even can be called wishes.
Endeavor, hard work, labor all culminate into objective results in life. It is just hope that can egg on the individual for excellence. In whatever school (the gods classifications or even the wings of science and logic!) we attend to, we are all fuelled by the gust of hope.
Hope is like a zephyr which soothes the soul, drives away the trepidations, insecurities and equips us to fight another day! Hope is the opium of life!
And how tragic would it be to just lose hope? To just stop letting the soul search for crevices of happiness in the realms of future!? How heartening would it be to stagnate and let gravity pull you down? To surrender to the elements of life does no justice to it. Each individual has been bestowed with certain gifts and in spite of all the malice and hardships of life; the pristine hope levels us all! Can we really gauge the effect of life without any hope? When we would be just ‘breathing in-animates’ subjugated to the tumble- tosser of life.
Death is the last milestone of life- it may be untimely, it may be sorrowful but then deep within we all know- it just has to come. We cannot deny the mortality clause on our birth certificates (or contracts!)! (I don’t mean the hospital issued oneJ)
Hope is all we have when we stare at death, when we can’t believe that our loved ones would be no more… and it is with hope that we can overcome death!
Lance Armstrong fought cancer to come back and win the Tour de France… villages were washed away in tsunami and there is no more of the media spotlight and crocodile tears… but still the fishermen and their families live near the open seas, ride the high waves for a living; the battles of life… armed with hope… faith- dreams!
The greatest tragedy of life would be sans hope, sans faith and sans belief… I would say the three legs of a tripod (hmmm, the movie the girl next door!)
There would be no ‘life’ in mere ‘existence’ if there be no hope. Like living dead, carrying on the commandments we would only remain oxygen suckers!
What we think, what we plan, we execute, all are tied with the web of hope… like the mucous of the spider, it connects the tangibles to the abstracts of human existence! The bridge between reality and realizations… hope is all we have with every ‘lub dup’ of the cardiac muscles!!
So even as we stand, this very moment, with our bag of thoughts, our dreams, desires wishes and scary feelings deep within… we take a moment, unknowingly, hoping for the best to happen… preparing for the worst! And this is all that we need- to overcome the tragedies of life, ya, even death!

A son…

2006-06-26T21:52:00.000-07:00

Mother and ‘son’ played-

With the dying rays of the afternoon sun,
With the harmless waves on the sandy shore.
An oceanic zephyr conspire in their ears, as they ran-
Touch and go…catch me if you can!

Peels of laughter- sound of music
Gurgle of waves the background score
Wet footprints on the sands of time
Hurriedly erased by the waters ashore

Emotions perfume the air around
Blissful pain, it fills my soul
The distant palm sways to the wind
A ‘Laughter’s’ resonance continues to roll

What is love and what it yields?
Equations of life unbalanced remain
Woman and child though a universe form-
Still voids of life clog my brain.

Lady in white, in holy matrimony
Years ago a journey begun,
But the birth of love washed away
As nature’s fury hath its say

The search goes on, the emotions flow
Like waters of the bay from distant lands
With open arms she smiles in pain
Spreading her love…

And I stare at her with the sun on my back
Mother’s love for a boy unknown-
As nature stole our love from us,
Giveth many for love to reckon.

To be or not to be… friendz!

2006-06-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

All that is there in friendship is all that we need from life. I mean it’s a cocktail of all human emotions, relations and yard sticks. With time, life has taken away the subtle emotions, or I would say reserved it for a chosen few and subsequently the friendship tag has also become costly, rather dear!
Pitted against one another in the sprints everywhere, we all have diluted the concoction of the highest order! Riding the waves of socio-economic progress, armed with strange gizmos we have looked back lesser and lesser; to wait for someone or maybe even long for someone. And at times when its not been easy we have howled, cried, tried to be brave and just labeled it as the ‘forgettable patch’! Somewhere we are all too proud to open up! We are too proud to wear it on our sleeves… or is it just a fear psychosis which tells us that we would be caught on the wrong foot and there would be no one near to lean on? Somewhere we have just made ourselves too vulnerable…
And even if this was not a big enough issue, we have an attachment to the email of woes! The Hum-Tum angle… is friendship above the gender aspect?
In simpler terms, the girl-boy dosti? Has it really become a virtual reality?
Cut throat, there is still a lack of mutual respect among the fair-unfair sexes. Whoever is to blame, it’s just that someone is not either wearing the right clothes, or having the proper demeanor or someone is too full of ego to really keep the grey matters churning inside the cranium! Be it the physical or attribute it to the psychological- we have just tried to blind ourselves partially! I mean, some things in life cannot really be put on the scales and weighed out! Friendship I guess is just one of them.
I would say why not?! I girl n boy can be good chums but ya, the level of maturity and mindscape span would have to be enormous. Life would always have the bird’s eye view and the fish’s eye view (there are technical details from the physics angle which I should spare!!) and we should learn to respect and honor both. Instead we try to overpower judgments! It can just happen with conviction, with an open mind and heart- the ability to exchange views and not just jump the lines. But most importantly it would come with mutual respect. We are never happy with the cards in hand… we want the trumps; and so in a relationship we get overboard. Paint fancy landscapes with ‘two to tango’!!
Boy! Can’t friends live happily ever after?! Actually even our bed time stories had the ‘love-shove’ angle with the prince and his mare while the princess is bowled over!
So that’s where our tuning has gone wrong and we always modulate differently!! But still, as there would be, friends like books, few and well chosen… I would say a girl and a boy can graduate to best of pals even as a man and a woman… no strings attached!!

she has all the answers... just all of 'em!

2006-06-21T03:22:00.000-07:00

MOTHER

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think they'll like this song?
Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?
Mother should I run for president?
Mother should I trust the government?
Mother will they put me in the firing line?
Ooooh is it just a waste of time?

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course mama'll help to build the wall.

Mother do you think she's good enough -- to me?
Mother do you think she's dangerous -- to me?
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
Mother will she break my heart?

Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.
Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
Mama won’t let anyone dirty get through.
Mama's gonna wait up until you get in.
Mama will always find out where you've been.
Mama's gonna keep baby healthy and clean.
Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,
You'll always be baby to me.

Mother, did it need to be so high?

Pink Floyd number.

Has anything changed with time? The baby? The mother? The song just makes me believe that among the constant changes of life we can always come back to this particular aspect in search of answers… but it would always be too late. Still got to keep the faith!

all the pain, all the tears, all the moments of gloom, words of hurt- in spite of that, she would be there naa...

when would we learn?

2006-06-21T02:02:00.000-07:00

The tragic death of Lieutenant Susmita Chakraborthy is the fourth since April 30.
Eight months into the army, she was in charge of a transport company of the Army Supply Corps’5071 battalion, posted at Udhampur.
She was unhappy with the job profile and its requirements and as her mother Sadhna Chakraborthy said ‘disillusioned with her present job’.
Though the 25 year old had tried to kill herself twice, Col. Vijay Pande, a psychiatrist in the Udhampur Command Hospital had put it as mild anxiety and depression.
She even had had her share of counseling but the behavioral irregularities had continued.
The penalty of breaking a bond was the financial stigma that forced her to continue in the forces in spite of being mentally distanced. And why not!
“She hated the girlish assignments that were given to her”, Mr. P.B Chakraborthy, her father rued. Organizing late night parties, arranging transport, welcoming guests over bouquets were expected of her! Would any ambitious self-esteemed officer bear this ignominy?
A few weeks ago she had brought sexual harassment charges against her superiors which is just a piece of information immaterial after her death. Retribution in the Indian system is a cynical process of long winding procedures and hearings that are ‘lost in translation’!
Already the defence minister, Pranab Mukherjee says,” We want more and more lady officers to join the armed forces. Those who have joined are doing well. There are problems but they can be tackled.”
The insensitive hollow words are an insult as recursive problems tarnish the image of the army. Major G. Shobha Rani had hanged herself on May 29 and still the panacea eludes!
Again the ‘astronomically’ high percentage of women in the Indian Armed Forces is appalling! 3%, 1.7% and 2.6% in the Air Force, the Navy and the Army respectively hurts the gender issues already tickling the army.
Some certain jobs are not assigned to women even with the right credentials and capabilities. Flying combat aircrafts and touching down on an aircraft carrier are just a few ‘men only’ domains. Post June 17th, after the tragic suicide of Susmita, the air force has pulled out lady pilots from the frontline sensitive zones in Kashmir.
Nothing official about it but this ridiculous move shows the immature standards in the ranks above.
Then the vice-chief was quoted in a newspaper as having said that the army could do without the services of lady officers. Two days later Mr. Pattabhiraman seemed to have forgotten his statement, deeming it as ill advertised press!
But the ‘long hand’ of Indian politics forced an apology -courtesy Sonia Gandhi.
Is this all that we are capable of after the death of an army officer? Gender discriminations, bias and distrust have tarnished the social fabric and even the positions of prestige, power and pride have been disrespected.
Are we still in the MCP mode of living where equality of sexes is just a far cry or a hypothesis we respectfully ignore and conveniently apply!
A mere bond of service pressed the lady to carry on till she fired the bullet. The lowly tasks, the corruption in the ranks and insults would not be addressed instead it’s again got the political angle as Sushma Swaraj demanded suspension of the army vice-chief. She would even visit the grieved family at Bhopal!
Are these the need of the hour? Mere political mileage and fragrance, stealing media flashes; as even the army shows the psychological angle to wash hands off!
A gold medalist in Chemistry, she leaves behind much more than a shattered family! She leaves behind the army greens with lots of dirt on them; a system which binds people to service in such demanding (pun intended) conditions but can’t monitor and balance the stress levels.
Mere words of respect and equality for women make us hypocritical as in the true sense it’s still a man’s world where women fight for their rightful place and questions are never asked!
The army retaliates that there were no formal requests for leave of service but why did it carry on with an officer not mentally in the proper frame to do justice to her job?
From 2002-2005, according to data placed in the Lok Sabha, suicide rates have been one every five days! And still the kaleidoscopic excuses fly all over and wither away.
It is about time we realize the importance of applying the doctrines we preach and bring transparency to the highly regarded services of this country. For it would be beyond our imagination when mental trauma makes you your own prey… and more so when all she had wanted was to serve the country in glory!
Maybe there is glory in death- when in life all she got were all that she had never wanted!

The Bet..

2006-06-21T01:57:00.000-07:00

she was in one word perfect. Like a vortex that draws one in itself, her presence seemed to generate the lines of force,I know not what.
the cascading black seemed to absorb every emotion that escaped from the gathering; her face had the colours of life and her eyes could bore down to the depths of your being, stealing all your private thoughts.
she wore a simple black dress quite unlike the fashions on page three but that was enough to leave us all enchanted. a rope of pearls added to the celestial beauty, as i thought she was! rahul was the host of today's party. the trance beats around, the subdued lights and the effect of the necessary evil had taken its toll. we were all amazed, rather drawn towards her- enamoured.
'who's she', raj turned to rahul with the qustion that was hounding all of us.
'i dont know. i dont remember inviting her to the party'. rahul was confused as all the others were. still they could not compose themselves.
'i bet she'll be mine before we pack up' everyone stared at me!
'no way buddy, she's already turned down a dance request from prakash. she's not interested and certainly not you!' a rumble rolled around the group.
'i bet a thousand that by tonight i would have danced with her', i turned towards rahul. he had already scroughed enough money from his parents for the party but then he was game! 'you bet old fella!your gonna lose this one!'
i dont know what came over. maybe the alcohol in my nerves, numb senses, maybe the lights n the music that made life a big blurr of....
i stood up- i, the veteran of many a relationship, with the smile that i knew just gave away a touch of affection. just walked down that drawing room length, picked up two wine glasses, red wine.
she was sitting near the balcony, and i managed to look straight into her eyes, as i stood in front of her,'Hi... care for a drink'.
i dont know what happened. it all just fell into place like some heavely conspiracy! i could feel the envious stare of my pals burning into me but then could i look away?
as the evening progressed, the party sinusoid completed, it was time to head back home. we had talked, laughed and danced and now it was time to roll back.
i thanked rahul for the blast and could not help as he strained himself to give me the thousand. it was my win but still i did not know how it all happened.
i accompanied her out and flagged off a taxi.
'Its ritika', she said with a bewitching smile, as i gave her the share of 'our' win from the bet.
'you were not so bad after all... it was nice, thank you for a wonderful evening', was all she said before the vehicle rolled off.
and i, the veteran of many a relationship, stood standing, with that expression captured inside.

ps: quite an old write... somehow like this one a lot

TALE SPIN...

2006-06-21T01:51:00.000-07:00

As the Indian Cricket Team (or is it Team India?) displays its kaleidoscopic talents, English alphabets are tuning into the wrong frequency.
With the Videocon series clicking for the hosts, the disintegrated unity of this nation has come up. Internet hate campaigns for Sourav Ganguly may be cowards wagging their tail behind the ethereal screen but what about the stinging remarks in the morning daily?
‘He (Harbhajan) had found himself in the disciplinary front by unwisely taking sides in the Chappel-Ganguly showdown’, S. Dinakar attempts a reverse sweep at the former captain.
The picture portrayed is that the man management of ‘gentleman’ Dravid brought the magic back for ‘turbunator’. Does anyone care to remember who created this magic? Not just in an individual but in a gang who could dream outrageously and perform to that extent? Can the meek, boyish charm of Dravid save the team from an Australian glare or an English hara-kiri? It’s just one series and the bad breath that steams from the sports section is heartening. Getting together some forgotten ‘greats’ of Indian cricket to dump their lofty ideas ‘Mixed reactions to exclusion’( The Hindu,30th Oct) is appalling. Combining all, would they have made 10,000 ODI runs? Have they showed courage, comparable to defying the English at Lords, giving a befitting reply to the high handedness shown in our country? We still seem to find comfort in the silence of back door politics where cricket is a mere tussle to fit in a south zone rookie for an east zone handicap! And what more can be more relishing than the captain’s blue? Ganguly had to be excluded but not with this amount of rancor. Did Sachin, the darling of cricket fraternity exude so much pulse when he just could not pull his act through?
Dravid never tried his cricketing acumen as a make shift captain, says Dinakar, cause of respect for the regular man! And just when a Dhoni spark lights up Diwali eve, its all attributed to the newly instituted captain- his cricketing brilliance!
We should not dwell in the past or try to bask in the glory of the days bygone but the southpaw deserves a lot better than words dipped in cruel intentions. End of an era, asks Nirmal Shekar (The Hindu, 20th Oct), even when in the first domestic match he played, Sourav had a century to his name- on what basis are expert opinions and views going for print?
There’s no support in the bad patch, maybe this is professionalism being inculcated in the team but somewhere there’s music of the pied piper that Sourav was for them.
Slow over rates and emotional upheavals do give this game the personal touch bringing it close to the common man who can relate to the pride and joy when one dons the ‘Indian Blue’. Sourav shaped this team and there are lots of flashes that call for respect and honor.
For the captain, and his ways of management. With the necessary change, the sudden taunting and mud slinging just shows that we never really honored the man who held the team when match fixing and players’ integrity were question marks! Does Dravid have a more difficult stage to perform? Moreover Dravid has his own laurels that are envied and never comes in conflict with the ex-chief.
He was always neglected and over shadowed during the Ganguly age, is what is brewing and being served in doses.
Its just four matches, maybe one series against Sri Lanka, who certainly does not have the maximum fire power now, and Dravid is man of the year!
The Australians have been doing this for a dozen years now, aren’t we being too fast in making a hero for the commercials?
The new coach-captain camaraderie would take India to the numero uno slot but again the tale of cricket’s treasured moments would always have space for the ‘dadda’.
Ganguly has served the national colors with passion, with courage, with a lot of heart. And we have all basked in the glory. So, in the tale spin of Indian cricket, the ignorance for the Prince of Calcutta would just be tomfoolery.
There’s no one to write him off, no one to pen down a fairy tale for the new man in office but only for the betterment of cricket, the contribution of individuals, can we pledge.
Sourav Ganguly as a cricketer has given us a lot of prized moments, in return he deserves more than the arrows of smirk and disdain.
For every time Dravid would bite his nail on field, analyzing, making a crucial change, eyes hidden behind the reflective glasses, be sure flashes of his ex-team mate, his ex-captain and a cricketer par excellence would make him a wiser man.

ps: this a relatively old scribble of mine n it might be ill timed now that indian cric has gotten used to the new charms... am not a ganguly fanatic, but somehow i hoped cric is still a gentleman's game with no strings attached!!

POLITICAL MANIFESTATIONS OF EDUCATION

2006-06-21T01:26:00.000-07:00

“Members are expected to maintain high standards of morality, dignity, decency and values in public life.”(Clause XIV, Committee on Ethics, Fourth Report, Presented on March 14, 2005)
Are parliamentarians aware of the lexical meaning of the words used or was the report even adopted?
Mamata Banerjee, the fire band politician or the ill educated, confused, volatile and unconstitutional leader? Questions have been raised around an ‘issue’ and the root cause of this oft repeated misdemeanor in the House somehow remains in the shroud of knowledgeable politicians and citizens alike.
Have we forgotten the televised session of the UP parliament where chairs were flung? Or down in the cultural capital’s assembly the members forgot even the basic decorum having fist fights?
It’s easy to see the rancor between politicians where brick bats are hurled with little restraint.
“I said she is a liar and ferocious. She lied about her educational background and named a US university from which she, as she lied, got her so-called 'Doctorate degree', simply does not exist. And when she sprang that lie, she was not a spoon-fed baby, thriving on milk…In spite of all this I fail to understand why people vote for such an imposter!" From a senior politician, Mr. Jyoti Basu in his interactive autobiography, Jyotibabur Sangey. Is this the manifestation of education? Or does the senior politician doubt the maturity and decision making capabilities of the electorate?
She flung the papers on the Deputy Speaker and the hi-fi technology carried it far beyond to the Uncle Sams’ and John Bulls’! We are questioning her “grossly defamatory insinuations", as the words used by our respected Speaker Mr. Chatterjee but how many elected representatives realize the essence of the words they read out or stand for?
The resignation letter was not formatted properly and was not accepted- who decides the proper format of a letter when we have chief ministers with barely the primary school education! We are putting the cart before the horse and trying to stage a melodrama of sorts.
Education is not just about trying to put the crawling letters after the name like slaves over burdened. It needs to be applied; it needs to be pragmatic and pro-national. We have different colors on the ballots but what each stands for is what we are supposed to be clear about.
The then Union Finance Minister Dr Manmohan Singh, in 1993 took the initiative to set up a Standing Committee to ensure effective control of Parliament over public finance, but the majority of politicians lack such prudence and vision. Important Bills like the Lok Pal Bill have been on the boards since 1968 not for requisite parliamentary support but for lack of commitment on the part of members to root out corruption in the higher strata of administration.
After all it’s this misty weather in the portals of power that is breeding corruption. It’s easy to see that Ms Banerjee crossed the line but then the tinted glass of our politicians can be nerve raking. The rule books have so many tributaries and distributaries conflicting that it’s easy to toy with them. She wanted to address the house on an already discussed matter, why is this a crime? It’s a simple matter concerning the masses! Who would stand to gain or lose? The voters! Have the so called democratically elected leaders forgotten the democratic doctrine itself?
Justice J.L. Gupta, former Chief Justice of the Kerala High Court, says, “There are similarities between politicians and pigeons as both have exhibited cosmopolitan appearance, good appetite, and large mouths for swallowing large foods and fruits”.
And education itself has taught the office bearers to play with words. Education is the manifestation of God already in man, but Vivekananda lived in a different age.
We need a heart and not just a head. We need emotions too, even though mercurial, we need someone who can learn not to play with the funny language. The confused connection between leadership and education can only be handled with a clear conscious.
The ideologies should be challenged; the debates should be on national issues. Both the government and opposition work for the common cause of national building; somehow the focus has shifted. And the lines or principles of governance have been hurt. The wizardry of words and the media savvy mouth piece of each party reach out to the masses with the dirty linen stolen from their rival’s back yard. What do we gain? What does the common man feel proud of?
Education has lost its hold over the seats of power. Leadership and governance have the translucent veil that confuses us.
To India my native land- should be the pledge and not words penned down which never come alive… even when hurled wrapped in sheets of paper, makes no effect!

she's achtzehn-to-be...

2006-05-18T01:38:00.000-07:00

She was pretty annoyed, disappointed I would say when I din complement her; as everybody says, she has a doll’s voice! Well, I kinda belong to the other end of the spectrum- biologically, and hence had not played with dolls… never heard ‘em also.
But hell! It was soft; it was sweet… but like the embedded choco chips in caramel, it had the determination of an individual who knew what she stood for.
Somehow she trusted a voice transmitted over CDMA technology from quite some distance! I wonder what was that she tied her boat to…
There was clarity in what she believed, in what she said. There was apprehension that she might be wrong but that did not show in her presentation. As they say, to shield the larvae, you need a cocoon.
‘Three cars, of which two would be mine…’
She was very different from what I stood for. From what I believed in, from what I subscribed to! And the intersections (if you would draw a Venn diagram!!) were crazy! Movies, certain songs, certain people, certain beliefs (ahem! Religious sentiments- hey am pseudo secular!!) were all that we agreed upon. It’s very difficult to accept points of view which clash against personal likings. All boiled down to debates; heated discussions, if I re-phrase it, and fights! A wonderful debater, her words had the sinusoids of life, had the conviction, had the force as well as momentum to hold its own. I don’t know who won in those verbose exchanges but it just never stopped.
Neutrally speaking her confusions, entangled thoughts and beliefs should not have been judged cause that’s her essence.
And she cried a lot. Sorrows are never poetic, I feel, but then those tumbling words soaked in tears made me helpless. All the more so- me being the reason behind.

She’s a ‘wundervoll’ person, and I feel she would sparkle from every dimension of her persona. From her I have learnt that nothing is more important than chasing your dreams, nothing is more ‘kostbar’ than ‘gerwinnen’- to win! When I turn the page, looking back to the matrix of two people, I just hope there’s enough happiness for us.
Chase your dreams ‘fraulein’ and I do hope the resonance strikes as there would only be the frills of unbridled joys- with no strings attached!
As for me… mmmh, the mountain wind (that’s what my blog identity means!) blows between the crests, whooshing through the hills till there’s time- but not yet… not yet!

Ps: Past tense is a concrete basis which is never erased voluntarily- my reason behind its usage.

emotionslos

2006-05-15T03:41:00.000-07:00

deutsch.. meaning 'loss of emotions'

when i look back in life, turn the page.. i feel that i have knotted all the tributaries n distributaries carrying my life blood. its not that red liquid with complicated classifications, its just a metastable 'something' i label as emotion...

i never could classify it, gauge its bounds, its limits and reaches. but as this flowed inside i could feel the rolling, the tinkling.. the rumbling.

the quiver of arrows that beautify this jig saw of life; the results of life's 'manthan', the battles... what do we generate, what do we wear on our sleeves?! emotions.. the trail of the lachrymal or the glow of unbriddled happiness- 'love, devotion.. feeling.. emotion'.. as enigma sang out.. return to innocence!

but i have lost them.. in this fast n furious ride, in this 'highway to hell', i have let that flavour get polluted. i have not respected the vibgyor of life. in this frenzy i have trampled over my own sorrows, undermined the little joys and overlooked the moments of pride and passion...

i have moved on... with the devil's advocate i have ravaged all that i had.. and its over now.

i remember as a child i loved the cloudless sky dotted with the kites... reds, greens, yellows- their long tails wobbling in the air- i wanted to reach out to them.. fly high! and i did.. but that day i din feel that chord in me; i just marveled at science n settled in the executive class comforts paid for... just debit-credit folks!

the rains din spray on my face, as i watched from inside 'controlled environs'.. i din even smell the earth, din even spalsh!! did i miss the nuances of life? the emotional tag that made life so special when i was germinating??

some relations, some threads of bondage, obscure faces stare at me when i look back but i see the affections in their eyes, i see i still have a space to squeeze in there... and i long to, but alas! its emotionslos! the mechanisms of life help me toil, driven by logic and reasoning i drive myself, strain myself.. harder every time. i know not where i am heading, to whom?

i only know, i have lost my bag of emotions and am just trying to run away... just run away