Moved on to green'er pasteurs

If you stumbled upon me here, then you would like to continue reading here.

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I've moved on in life, in more ways than one. I am taking each step forward, quiet in tip toes, watching, wondering and letting it all seep in. Would be great to have you around, hear your thoughts and have you question mine.

Welcome home!!!

Standing tall!

Many sailors had come and gone, mere visitors to this island. Fleeting memories of such, still clogs the minds, dusky and dark. And then there were the few that stayed along, and made such a deep impact, that the island thought of them to be an ingrained part of itself. It grew accustomed to them being around, waking up to them every new morning; bidding them bye at each sundown, only to see them the following morning.

The island needed both. It needed the visitors, to keep it alive in the heart, a new chirp in the voice, brought by the sailor from a distant land. It needed the regulars to go back to at the end of the day, to sleep in the assurance that no matter the Sturm Und Drang, there was peace.

And thus, the island breathed along, day in and out, unquestioned by the system; standing tall with each lashing tide, chest held high to the sky.

Homeward bound

I'm sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket for my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev'ry stop is neatly planned, for a poet and a one-man band.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

No, there was no love; there was no silent waiting, there was no... But wait! I had it all wrong. What I was heading to was not 'home'. It was not even in the vicinity of being close to home :) That explained there being no love and no silent waiting. It was a room, me living in that room, a few rooms around this room, a person living in those rooms around this room, it was an arrangement. Far from home!

It's surprising, that this is the first time in the last few months that I've really taken a moment to sit and analyse the situation. When exactly was it, that it had stopped being home? When ideas took different tracks? When priorities in each rooms' life chnaged? When the split in thoughts meant a split in interests and the being? When each ego available was working on means of ruling over the other? Or somewhere between the realization that it was a mere arrangement and the comprehension that it would not last for long in the same frame of mind?

Either ways, things had taken a turn for the wrong side; each today made me pray harder, to never see such a day again. I had taken it on me to make amends, and a slow process that it turned out to be, was squeezing all the energy out of me. It is indeed tough, to stay strong and stay mean. No wonder we are the 'social' animal. We'd rather want ourselves to fit into the cliche, and have the world think good of us, than choose the untrodden path.

So, while I live each day, one step closer to a changed me, about to breath my own life, I turn the volume up to the highest, sing out at the loudest and cry out to heaven the hardest.

Tonight I'll sing my songs again,
I'll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony, I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Silently for me.

Nothing else matters!!!

I would have safely assumed it to be mere coincidence that made my iPod played Nothing Else Matters at those wierdest and saddest moments, times when I needed a hand around my shoulder, listening to my rants. But the strange timing with which the song plays, beating all alogrithms that the makers built into song shuffling, makes me think if my iPod had a mind of its own after all. 

It had been a dream job, one of those things that drove you onward in times of hell and the cliched rat race that gets you into the system. What if I had another bread earner in hand, a compromise my mind called it. I was too naive then to realize what was it in this one that attracted me, the money, the culture, the brand, beats me! But it had been the place to be and having crossed three rounds of hurdles and having almost been there, with one last round between me and the offer, it seemed too good to be true. The call had to come mid day, an hour's break in the hostel to let the nerves cool down. We laughed around in light banter, prepared for questions that might arise. The hour turned into two and four, till I eventually heard about the contemporaries who had made it. Clearly I hadn't. Compromise had to be digested in now, for there might not be another chance afterall. iPod in hand, I let the company lose and walked out to the divine abode. Play - "So close no matter how farrr..!!"

 

I had let another man break my heart, I had shed my first tears for someone other than my closeknit family. A strange sense of helplessness arose as it sunk in, that I was vulnerable to the world and its plays. As I stood waiting for my ride back home, it hit me hard that the race does not end when one sun sets in. It is run with every rising day, it is a challenge to run for, day in and night out. Play - "Couldn't get much more from the heart..!!" A couple of years down the line, I stood at a similar juncture, hurt and pain steaming out of my eyes. As the train pulled in to the station, it dawned on the lame soul that it had become too much of a regular now. The tears rolled down as I walked out of the house, the mind wondering how I could hate someone from the heart, love the same from the pit and never manage to ignore. As each stinging word, demeaning me of going away, pricked, the heart stood there listening, numb to these worldly means of torture. The train pulled off the station, Play - "Forever trusted who we are..!!"

I had woken up a little too early, hadn't slept at all to be honest. The ghosts had stuck along when I hit the bed, they had followed me through LaLa land and knocked me up in time for the sunrise. And yes, It can never be more perfect than waking up early to a cloudy day. God's way of beating into you the truth that no matter how hard you try to keep the sunshine riding and the song in the air, there will be days of utter despair. The dull, gloomy ones where there will be no light at the end of the tunnel, the silver lining would be yet another delusion and even the birds would take their day off. I look up at the end of the horizon, for any sight of the much needed welcome break. A deep sigh and Play - "And Nothing else matters!!"

Two tracks and one soccer game.

She had reached the train station with enough time in hand to let the chill kill her nerves. Was it her guts or her brain that made her go through the torture of the cold every other minute? Every time her teeth shuddered and her muscles twitched in the wind, she let out a sigh, looked up at the heavens and laughed. Yes! She was still alive.

The girl was too young to realize if it was love or a plain high school crush. They had been chums since they'd joined back in mid school. They'd grown closer in the last few years and the five hour long phone conversations had left every couple in class jealous. But today, when he had confessed to her that he had found love and he was going to propose to their best friend for years, she din't know if she was being plain and simple possessive or he really meant the world to her.

Yes! She was still alive; and that realization brought with it the pains of the night. Time when another realization had struck, the fact that she had been kidding herself this far. The last few years had been a roller coaster ride, with her shifting from one foundation to another to keep her shack grounded. It was surprising how everytime her boat drifted off the shore, she'd found a new bark of wood mid water, to moor her boat. But last night she realized that no matter how hard she tried, it was meant to be.

He really meant the world to her and watching him fall for another girl in front of her eyes left her stranded. The icing on the cake had been him falling for her very best friend. Now everytime she saw her, it hit her harder than ever. The theory was proved after all;  everyone falls in love one big time, everyone is fighting for something and everyone has something to hide.

It was meant to be and she had to let the tides wash her ship off shore. Mortal ties of friendship had gotten her through some of the worst times in her life; start of college with all the growing up to do, a new job, work in an unknown land. There had always been a heart to go back to at the end of a sad day, with a smile, a cheer and a hug to kiss the pain away. These were hearts that meant the world to her at some point in space. They had helped her fight it through; and now it was the same few who failed to see it.

Everyone has something to hide and the girl let that guide her when she held both the souls dearest to her heart close to it. The move to a new school, college in a land from the past had given her the break she had needed to fall out of these misunderstandings and grow up. Five years and she had totally out lived her childish charms. She'd grown up. She'd grown out of them.

And now it was the same few who failed to see it; she was not meant to be rooted to the ground to begin with. Every time she thought it was the wave and the tide to be blamed, she had ignored the voice within that was enjoying the unsteady waters. There had always been the hand that quietly cut all ties to the earth, given that perfect boost up skward. Noone had noticed it then because noone had cared.

She'd grown out of them and today when he discovered her in the web world, while she was expected to be ecstatic about it, all we felt was a gush of the smells from the past. Mere fictious characters playing the part in her head, a play that barely made anymore sense to her, something that barely made sense to anyone. Things had changed within her in the years that flew by and she hadn't noticed it. Noone had noticed it then because noone had cared.

Noone had noticed it then, because noone had cared and she was used to life being like that. The prince of the dumpster, the ruler of no-man's isle she had been. And now, when she saw visitors to her little island, wanting a piece of the land, adding their own colors to their little patch and worrying about the bright ones in the neighbours, she wonders if she is to be blamed. She fails to understand why the visitors don't see, that all that should matter is their being there. And their making their stay worth it. 

For as much as I am open to them walking in and as much as it would hurt me to see them go away, my heart would not change from what it had liked before and after. As often as a new traveller would break my heart, it would welcome another one in with open arms, for that is how pink and plum it is bred to be. It has been each such blow that has made the heart stronger. 

No matter how many more bandaids this knee might hold, the soccer game is on and it has to be bled to live to the fullest..

Sunrise Pals.

Some days dont have the perfect sunrise....then other days, when the sun sinks in and you barely notice it....there are nights when you fall asleep and the moon is not out as yet...then there are blues of the sky that keep you waiting for something nice....

My thought wanders between different trains of happy memories, till I hit one stop that keeps me pondering for a while......people who have been the perfect sunrises in the horizon...bright and red...complete creations of the almighty....these angels have made sure that days with them in it, have made it a joy to live through...they have given me reasons to wake up the next day, hoping for similar thoughts....

And then there are others, who are cloudy days from the start....leave a sorry feeling in the heart and an itch when you see the sun eventually up at the zenith....these are the ones that barely made an entrance and you hardly notice them leave....It's funny I actually remember such entries vividly as well, the indistinct reasons why I bumped into them, the meaningless conversations shared and the quick, painless goodbyes.... 

And then there are the trickiest days....ones where you wake up real early and lie awake...because they give you the feeling of the perfect sunrise....bright and orange....leave a craving and a want in your mind...and while you lie there in wait....they jump the gun....very soon you realize that you trusted the wrong instinct after all.....and it was a losing hope to start with....because it had turned into a total disappointment....a sore feeling down your throat....God bless such friends (hic!!) who have walked into my life, dented my heart and walked out with no remorse in neither minds...I know I will rise up for such daybreaks in the future too, because they make me stronger and the eventual perfect sunrise feels all the divine!!!

Ghosts!

She closed the door, as he left, and ran out to the balcony..she peered down as she saw him appear into the yard. He walked out the main gate, a sense of pride in his gait; what was the reason she did not know. She stood there till he was just a bleAk spot on the road and the crowd ate him in.

She turned back into the room, glum and sorry, and he was there waiting for her. One had left only to be filled on by another. She lay down on the chilling floor beside him. She drank her threshold + 1 th round of the drink he had made for her. She let the liquid slowly ooze on, findin it's way around her tracks up to her brain.

Jolt! And she and her sis ran out of the car. Mom found a safe spot under a tree to rest while dad made sure the shoulder he'd picked to park was safe enough for what they were to do. The last few times that the same thing had happened, the two of them had reached a level of familiarity and expertise with what was to come. One pulled the necessities from up front while the other lost the nuts. Dad stayed close by, making sure that they were not missing something vital. They were a team now, they worked best when together. Ten minutes into the job the tyre was changed, the spare and the tools safely stacked and they were on their way to where they were headed.

Blink and they quietly sat in the last row of the bus; both in a coincidental white. There was not a word spoken as he nimbly wrapped her fingers in his. Was it the first time they'd held hands?she doesn't know. She let him take his time, let herself have time to accept his touch. Slowly and steadily.

Slap and she felt the kick land tight on her plum body. She was ten again and her dad did not approve of what she'd just done; out for tea with car drivers equals to being our with strangers. Was it yesterday that her mom had given a hot one for earing candy off the jar? Her memory fades her already and before it all vanishes into nothingness she tries to remember that recent squabble with the little one. She had been weak in math and a tough ruler had met her close to her eye as punishment. They had rushed her to the hospital, she heard from voices over all else. She dint go, because she was hiding under the stairs, not sure if the world would accept her again.

She cleared her head and her throat with one deceiving movement. She'd hungered for revenge and empties the cycle tyre of all air, only to see the devil herself walk by. MuKa lost all tongue and couldn't come with a plausible reason for them to be by the devil's bike. Was this the end? She turns to run and sees RaSu cycling by her, O she is speeding beside her too. A quick thud and she is on the ground, the second of lost orientation, a few bruises down, she walks into the local medical center. It is not she that the doctor wants to see now, though. She cant stand it, neither can RaSu, as the med pulls out the bandaid and exposes the two stitches by her eye. It had been a close call, she had happened to hear her fall and moan from the bathroom.

A flash, she quickly turns the corner and stands at the foot of the stairs, waiting for him to follow her there. He'd come home with her at three in the night only because she had forced him to and he had been very dear about it. As she held him close, she felt him shiver, of fear of being caught in my own house I would say. Where had her panic vanished, how did she not feel those elderly emotions of alertness and caution? Carefree, she held on to him till they went up the flight of stairs and not a minute of air separated them till she knocked.

Knock..! and she woke up to the smell of food in his den. She had done it again, run away from home and work and all obligations, to spend a day in oblivion. He had held her through her rebellious thought, not once questioning her motive, the lost rhyme. She had slept like it was in her mother's warmth, the coziness that only home can bring and was surprising here for her not so far away from home.

She remembered having no dreams at all then, none to spoil her tranquility; no ramdom thoughts, none to shatter her glass mansions, like the ones there were now. Ahchoo!! Another sneeze, a drag at the nose and a curse at the fever with its ghosts from the past.!!

The prodigal hath returned.

Every time, in the past, that she has left that place behind, tears blinded her vision, and she sat there, deciding never to return. Every one of those times she has gone back to the very same place, giving in to reality, accepting divine justice bestowed upon us mortals. What reasons they might be, that drive her thresholds to the extremes, is something we will delve in a little later; but the place that takes her in, every time she runs away from reality, is a haven of its own kind. 

It has always been welcoming;  Every time the prodigal has returned, with eyes hung low with shame and a heart searching within the lost dungeons for itself. She walked back every trip with the feeling of a newly wed, returning home to her parents, to the smell of the house she has grown up to love. Every action, sight and sound here reminds her of parallels from the new world that surrounds her now, some happy moments there, some lost in search for the soul. Every time she longs to prolong the stay to every second; who knows when she might ever be able to be back in the bosom of warmth, who knows what cold winters await her where she has to be?!

Every trickle has a story of a lost temper driving it; every spec has a caustic remark triggering it. And they all loom back as nightmares in the ride that she has out of that place. When she takes stock of what she has and what she wants to have, she realizes that it was never right from the beginning. It dawns on her that she never fit in it from day numero uno, she was always an outsider to this world and shall die one.  Every effort that she has made to change things from what they are meant to be, has been one futile step forward towards this harsh realization; a starch fact that it was not meant to be any different at all.

Grown up and as a confirmed adult, she will now ride back to duty, with her childish dreams intact, her juvenile interests untouched, the she unchanged. The little that she has strayed in the recent past will be rewritten, mistakes undone, things will be forced back to status quo. All will be reset to how it had been on day zero, a few hours into this newfound land, she had beaming with the confidence of the solitary reaper, unaware, untouched!!

Rollercoasters, chums and life!

The pleasures that a trip out of normalcy brings is so vast that i can call it uncomparable to any other feeling in this whole world. It's close to being in love, having the first taste of ice cream or seeing a rainbow on a dusky cloudy day. Having gone through a quick succession of a simulated space shuttle launch, watched a humungous killer whale sky rocket like a puny bird and sat through the twists and turns of some man-made miracles, I suddenly feel all too small for this huge world. Such wonders we have all around us, breathing the same air and walking the same ground, and here we are, running the same track over and over again. If I lay low and take count of the life lived so far, there is not one moment to my credit that has made another's life worth it. Not one smile that I might have lent and not a joke that was worth a share. And yet, continue to wish each day in, hoping for it to be any better than the one gone.

As fingers stand stiff, pointing at directions where the reasons for this glum act may lie, my mind, the so called literate that it is, realizes that all directions lead into one common direction - the direction of the heart. No cause is more caustic than the one within, always more potent than the external. I quickly take stock of all acts in the past that have left my mind numb and wanting and realized that the source for all of this came back from the never ending out of ill feelings that the heart houses. True!

It is with such a dawning that I swear an oath under my breath, to live each moment for its truest worth and not once look at the outward for comfort or soothing. The minute the word seeps in, the soul rises to a newer level - not to sound all philosophical here. But, I feel a sudden spring in my step and a jiggle in my speech; a smirk at the end of my lips at all points, a feeling of being aware of a well kept secret. The magic potion seems to be working afterall.

Such a realization brings with it a host of other ideas and emotions as well. I look at all great minds that have walked in and out of my life this far; My memory of friends goes back to the days in the Pink City when I made him my friend at the end of the very first day at school. He is a ghost in my mind right now, his face a haze in space, but a warm feeling is what overwhelmes my mind. Thoughts then quickly brush over to the builder's daughter; we did our first phase of growing up together. The girly chitter and the weekend jabber still stand afresh. Next came a horde of friends, thanks to the parents deciding to stay put for a while in the garden town. Kandu dude and dudette will surely stick on, good times afterall. The silent walks back home with the lady were fun, the five hour long phone conversations with the guy were constant company when back home; they sure left God and Goddess worried.

Then walked into my life, the little wonder, with all the mirth and laughter and optimism that she brought in with her. She was the answer to the God's want for a white soul; complete, raw and outgoing. She flooded all our lives with what she had in her.

Growing up years were in full swing, when the mind went in search for more knowledge. The rustic innocence that MuKa possessed complimented with my openness to all walks of upbringing left us glued in till date. A year later, RaSu walked in, and the threesome was some company. The long nights that we spent, lying awake under the stars, waiting for that occasional shooting star, recounting mystic tales from far-off lands are still afresh in my head. The never ending
squabbles for reasons unknown, patched up by make-ups untold are a dream in themselves. Dodo came and life was a different ball game, so to say. Juggling between girl friends, life and him was a telling tale of perseverence I should say; some strings were lost, some made stronger, but the four years went by in a jiffy.

Fully grown up, independant and curtailed, I sought out a friend and found a twin, a part of me that was bred and brought up in different surroundings but beat like one. The times spent together over dal, chicken and coffee, discussing music, guitar and the latest read in town leave a sparkle in the eye. Moments were more mystic when the call of duty was given up for the sole purpose of being the tyrant; these still leave Howard Roark fuming :) . But such were our ways, a show by the master on work days which was a must-attend, a rock concert for the junkies and a post concert walk in oblivion down the city lanes gave a high kick. Road side junkies we must have been, the ones that follow the great heart's dream and live the ways of the wild.

I feel old now, when I sit and let such thoughts swarm my mind. I have decided to hang on to a few of these relationships till my grave, while I pass by a few that are as fleeting as the snow. It strikes hard that it is these ties that have kept me rooted till date. They have been the branch I held on to when thrown into the raging gorges, the spikes that used in my uphill climbs.

To friends and family; a bow, a warm hug and loving prayer.!

Two faced clowns

It was not as the usual cliche goes about how he walked into my life with a storm raging at the back. I barely noticed him for the first couple of years, and then it took another few months for me to even accept his existence in my circle(yeah! like there is one). When I sit today and weigh my scales, or look back at other times when a guy has ever got me writing, it is definitely not in a similar tangent or mind frame when i pen my thoughts today.

When I gather my strings back together and wonder what caused the incubation period to start with, the era of formal, professional hullahoos, I feel it has a lot to do with us being so similar and yet so different. And so they say something about like poles repelling. For the egoists that we are, it must have been a period where we stood back, weighed each other, head to toe, and marked the opponent as beyond reach. And what is surprising is that it was all so mutual.

Coincidence, destiny or some divine intervention, but our paths crossed and the differences, with the similarities surfaced. Tempers rose, ideas were thwarted and truces were reached upon. Such two faced we have become, that we live in a world split wide open. There are moments, when we share a common laugh and see a common dream come true, and it is immediately shattered to pieces by a slight, venomous remark that originated from the lost dungeons of the heart. A second, we are discussing a plan for our individual futures, up and happening, and the next minute we are demeaning each other with dry, sarcastic wrath. So often are we sporting a face, a stranger to ourselves, in front of the mass multitude, that I wonder if we know ourselves as much as we know the other.

I often wonder if it is a play of multiple personas here, me and the one within me opposed to him and the one within him. Through different paths that we tread, we change partners between the blacks and whites of each other and as one may imagine, the most hurt is shed when the blacks meet. And the hard reality of acceptance dawns when that moment of hurt is showered. What keeps us coming back to this turbulence is hope, I am forced to believe. Why else would you demean one another and still hold your hand to show the familiar way? Hope that there can be a flicker of friendship amidst all this hollow.

A light at the end of the tunnel, a moonrise at the break of dusk, an audience and a show by the two faced clowns that us.

Trains and Rails...Miles apart...

Am not gonna start off with a ramble about why this post has been incubating in the distant corners of my machine. The new title to my blog roll is what would best describe the current state of affairs... So Shall It BE!!

Certain moments make me pause and wonder about the contrary emotions that the same situations trigger in our lives. A little train journey out of town to a megalopolis had shoved a host of ideas and thoughts, too much for the over clogged mind to handle.
I think back at train rides in India, the sights and the smells that came with it. Staring out of the barred windows, letting the wind mess up the hair was a pleasure on its own. It brought with it tales of far away lands, dreams about warriors and heroes mounted on horse backs, hills and falls spun out as a mega movie released by the mind. A quick peak out had the charm to drain all the noise innate to the train journey. With vendors and hawkers selling their goods at fair-like proportions in the little passageways winding through the train, there was always something to keep yourself interested in your journey if the world outside the window wasn't promising enough.

A quick memory of a sweltry summer afternoon flashes by, when a deep nap in the upper berths of the train was broken by a sudden fall down heights of the berth. The entire coupe had gasped in concern of a broken bone or a bleeding face, only to be faced by a tooth mouthed grin. I had barely felt an inch of pain at that point and it still leaves me shocked. Other times that I remember are bullying the little one to get hold of the much coveted window or putting up a sorry face to the old man opposite, to win his sympathy and eventually the priced seat.
Meals packed especially for the journey were a feast in their own sense, the smells of the food mixed up in a cosmic melange with the inborn smells of the train were a pleasure. All washed down with the in-house coffee or tea, served in the true-to-its-spirits disposable cups, was the perfect end to a perfect journey.

As the scene quickly faded by, large stretches of land, complete with the pasteurs and their bovine friends, zipped past, standing proof to any law of science quiestioned by mankind. A fleeting smile flashes through, as I remember trips recounted by friends. Stories complete with the women living in a man's body making passes at them and the excuses thrown out to turn down the proposal. Amusing times of men blushing to pink for once and living the life of the fairer lot. There were other stories from friends of love storied begun and end in those dingy seatways.

A jolt gets me back to reality and I notice the train stop. How unusual it is in this land of the technology for the beastly train to halt for a minute, the unease that it rains on its occupants!? Hours standing on tracks in no man's lands were spent taking a quick stroll out in the open or gazes till the end meets the eye.

The trains here, miles from home, leave a very mechanic feeling in my gut, a strange reluctance in me to unite with the system that it has built for itself. The tight shut window panes, letting the steam filled air cooled and circulated within have an effect quite contrary to the openness of the panes and the hearts I felt back home. Distant journeys paid for the first class and spent at the door, half hanging out of the train is so unimaginable in this side of the world. I confess it is a pleasure I miss a ton here.

As the train rattles in to its destination, three stories underground and years of technology and science behind it, I quietly pray for the beasts back at home and long for the life that they brought with them.

Is it me or the dream??

it has been one of those days when i wake up, with some strange dream left unfinished, thus a sorry taste in the mouth. My mind, swarmed with thoughts and feelings it is no longer capable to comprehend, listed down a host of resolutions, that it very conveniently forgot in a jiffy. Such is the flimsy state of the mind that it is waiting to give up a horde of its favorites, a never before and a never again. The tangent that life has reached is devoid of any sense or order, not that I have ever found it before. But the kind of uncertanities or randomness that I see today, has left me questioning my ideas, interests and wants. I take time off to wonder if I am as flawed and non ideal as the world looks at me. And having reached a state where I have begun to question my own ideals, i feel soulless and vagabond. A constant array of ideal gentlemen, that i see day in and out, leaves me stranded, alone and wrong in a world full of rights.

Is it me or the dream??

A year older and none the less wiser :)

As i sing another birthday wish, wholeheartedly, my mind flies back to a time in the past. I sat in the rear dungeons of a speeding car and quietly ushered in a new year. A year older and I wondered if I had become any wiser. If the marks of age had started wearing off on me. I still love the ice cream drip down the cone as I lick every finger, to not miss the fleeting last taste.

The look of the rainbow and the smell of water in the air still turn me on and I still sit here waiting for the first sight of the snow. My childish wit still wants to be the tyrant in any conversation and I still argue with anybody questioning my choices.

My nights are still blessed with nightmares, the ones that I jump out of, brimming with sweat and panic. I still cuddle on to my pillow and want to spend every possible minute in bed before duty calls. I still rush home from work like a child running back from school, liberation and freedom in the air. The sights and sounds of the trinkets still please me and I want to own every single candy store in the country. I want to read every page I can lay my hands on and listen to every piece of music that lies at my disposal.

Money and politics do not interest me as yet and I still do not understand the workings of my market. Yes, I comprehend my taxes, but I do most of the related out of mere force. I still love the shades of red and orange in the fall foliage and I love to let the waves wash me away. Rollercosters still thrill me and candy floss makes my day.

Have I grown an inch different in the years I have lived? Tough question. Do I want to change any bit from what I was yesterday? Given a chance to go back in time, would I change anything that I see right now? No. I am sure I will make the very same choices that I have made this far and that is what defines me today. Happy Birthday!!

A sordid mind, a lost soul and the white sands

It had turned out to be a fight for freedom, an issue of now or never, a do or a die as the cliche goes. We had to find the right moment, the perfect moment of blue and white. The journey had become a quest for us outsiders, a token to take back as proof for greener pasteurs and bluer waves out there. When we finally reached destination finale, after hours of soaring tempers and disappointed ideas, there was no more room for any further wait. The urge was obvious when each pair of feet ran out of land at the first sight of the sea, a thirst quenched by the first drop of the ocean water on our feet.

An hour later, as I walked back, satisfied for the minute with the amount of ocean I had in me, I took a second look at the beauty that lay in front of me. It had been an old lover's return, the first touch had the same sense of urgency and had sent out the same shrills as the initial touch of fingers, after seeming years of separation. As I had let the waves take me in and wet me through, it had been a feeling of complete surrender, a complete acceptance of anything my mate had in mind, a total trust in letting life go ahead with each wave.

As the day had unfolded, there were a million trinkets of emotions sprayed across the floor of my mind. There were a series of ex-es and the questions of life post a fall-out, questioning my very roots in the belief of love. Then there was the eternal question of weighing your friends as much as you weigh your emotions. was it wrong on my part to expect all the goodies at one go and not want to make a choice of one over the other?! Is it too complicated a thought to compartmantalise, to make sure there is room for everyone in our lives?! That way, one gets to eat the cherry and the pudding. I believe there is always enough love in our hearts to share it around and there should never be a point in your lives where you will have to stop giving away to one, in order to satisfy another. If you find yourself having reached that crossroad, where it is one or the other, then there lies hell; a fate that you have built for yourself and are the only one to be blamed.

As I lay there, on the pristine white sands, letting the crystal sea wash itself through me, I experienced a cleansing of sorts. A purging of thoughts, ideas, emptions and any such baggage that life rests on you. All I felt was the sea, the lash of the waves, the sound of the air and the moment. And a holy thought it was, to live every minute for its due worth. Who may tell what trials may swarm you down tomorrow! As we had drove down to the beach, on a strip of inconspicuous land across the vast, over bearing ocean, my life had decided to do just that, enjoy every stretch of beauty that lay around me; complete with all its colors and shades.

A new year had quietly found its way in; neither announcing itself consciously nor making a hullahoo about it. And I had grown a step closer to maturity, a small foot ahead to a life where I could decide to live a life that I choose to carve for myself and not let commitments bind me down. As I had watched the last inch of the sun's orange blend into the blue, I had let all fears and worries rest and had enjoyed myself to the last minute.

I cruised into another destination, the wind playing games with my hand and summed up the happenings of the last one day in one sentence :

It is always worth getting dirty and letting some sand mess with your hair.

Claymation

Life takes us down its own course, a surprise at every turn, a shock at every halt. And the only common factor I note between yesterday and today is the total cluelessness with which I take life's ride in the stride. At moments, a few, when I stall and think about what is unfolding around me, the shape that life has taken, I wonder if we are after all just that. Pots of clay, rotatin fast on the wheels of the potter, letting the soothing fingers of the master run through us. Pain, there is, in some of those moves. But all to the end of moulding our lives to something we know nothing of. A tomorrow to our today that we might not live to watch. A shape to the mass now that resembles the earth.

And how much of perfection that is eventually achieved is dependant on the resistance we give to that external force. Or should I say, lack of resistance. The more we hold back, the stiffer the clay, the sloppier earthenware, I believe. An honest though, approves my head. It is this understanding that I take forward, to let the highness run his hands through me once again, to shape me for the new day. Closing thoughts are that of distant amusement, awe at the novelty in life I suddenly see and a strange inkling of excitement at what is to come.

Of Friends and Love!

Very recently, I lost another friend to love and I should add that it hurts. The shift from being a friend to a good friend to a lover is such a smooth transition that you barely notice when you ride over from one court to the other; Or, in my scenario, when you have committed the sin of tempting your partner to move. And more surprising than this is the hard truth that the direction of move is biased and the ease with which one moves up is drastic compared to the reluctance with which we move back.

And even on finding our way back to a previous role, whatever the reasons driving that may be, I don't think the ground is the same any longer. The uneasiness that lingers on, swift fleeting glances that mean a million things and speak not a word, brings with it a sense of eerie with it. It is a state where you are no longer together but are still around, trying to build a bridge across the overflowing river. An extreme sense of urgency to cover up the cracks in the china, that you so willingly chose to break a minute back.

It is in such times when I am forced to think which relationship I value more, the coveted role of the beau or the closer than life bonds of a friend. In most cases I think I would pick the latter. Most cases, I say, because of the bitter tastes that I carry in my mouth from the past. I choose to build a basket of good friends and keep them there, than let transitions snatch the treasured away, only in hope for a better tomorrow.

Tomorrow and the thought of it has become something of a repellant to me of late. What ignorance would make one sit and idle away time in hopes and thoughts of a tomorrow that we are no sure of than the love we promise to the other. Irony, I should say, that we spend today in hopes of a tomorrow we want to live. When all that it takes to change it to our suit is living today to the best.

As the winter fades away

Fresh out of the previous night, I stare out in the open at what the world has to offer for today. The sight that swarms me pleases me in more ways than one. The dew that sits tiptoed on the leaves, leaves a tipsy effect on my eyes. I see trees fight with strong opposition to sneak out their best buds and leaves; I see victory all around me. Every being around me that breathes, seems to have taken the cold wrath of the winter in a profitable way, taking home a bounty of learning. The battle against the fury of the season that is fading away has left everyone stronger at heart, ready for tougher battles to rage ahead in life.

As I look on, I see the white of the winter taken over by the white of the flowers. Harbingers to a summer of bright colors, these are the perfect farewell to a period of quiet, an apt welcome to times of activity. I stretch and relax, knowing that good times lie ahead. As much as there might be doubt and obscurity in what lies ahead, the shape that the world has taken between yesterday and today tells me that higher beings have a better plan in mind for us lesser mortals.
when I see a smile on every face and a song in every heart, I wonder how much of what we are or what we become is molded by our vicinity. A huge amount, I infer, for the same mind, teeming with morbid thoughts of despair and hopelessness elsewhere, saw rays of hope in every sway of the breeze here. A strange array of thoughts, prospectives and possibilities, run through an idle mind. That's what I would say is a variation from times past, a glimmer of hope or a minimal ray of hope.

Yes, Life is moving ahead, on the fast lane but brimming with fervor and excitement, a roller coaster of sorts.

Fallen Promises?

It was our little family outing after a whole semester;Yes, H graced us finally. No trip to Bombay, the popular maya nagariya, seems complete without a trip to Churchgate, a walk down Marine drive. It was a little exercise I found rejuvenating, motivating in a weird sense. Little kid in the big city, walks around with the cool breeze of the sea on one end, the high rises on another, a dream to be a part of it all one lucky day. A wish to rise to the sky like these scrapers do, walk the paths of the rich and famous, to breathe the air that felt awefully familiar.

And with that same wish, I returned today, to be welcomed by the new facade to the drive. With the pavements being rebuilt and environment going through a face lift of kinds, it was going to be a difference walk, after all. Having read a ton about the men and the idea behind the whole reclamation scheme, I felt energised, motivated to be a part of it. As we treaded down, I looked out to all the new additions, recollecting details about the sit outs and bus lanes, little bits of information I got back from the reading.

It was with the same energy levels that I chose to cling on the wastes from an icey treat in BR. I insisted on my family following suit too, we were not going to emulate the family on a holiday trip from SOTC's latest ad to Save Mumbai (by the way, searching for this as Shahrukh Khan's campaign yields a more definitive result that anything else. We love our film stars, don't we.!). As we walked the way from Ambassador Hotel to Girgaom Chowpatti, we held on to our takeaway tubs and tissues, a keen eye on the look out for a waste bin to dump our refuses into.

Half and hour's walk and a kilometre or two later, there was no respite in sight; all we were left with were sweaty hands. It was with a total feeling of losers that we carelessly flung the tissues by the sidewalk. No, we were being stupid trying to be ideal citizens in a city where nothing that is promised ever gets to your hands. Might be the family that dumped waste all around them was right in doing so, did they have a choice anyway?

We have ministers and mayors and film stars publicising a scheme to promote a promenade that doesn't have dustbins for meters together. Keep Mumbai Clean.! But how, may I ask, Sir?? And there are dreams of Shanghai! Grow up people.!!

Monday Morning Blues

I amble around slowly, inconspicuous of my closest surroundings. It has been quite a while, I remember, since I sat down to do something I really liked; or should I dare to say, my heart really liked. It aches for the pleasures of being one with its wants; yearns for the joy in uniting with its dreams. It's been a long time.

I walk along, through dingy corridors, artificially lit to look alive; onto the dreary ends, where automatons sit and waste their lives away. It is a battle for the dough, I sense, and for why else a million kids would give up on their dreams, to idle away doing what a machine could do three times better. Alright, I agree, the cognitive process is absent in the machine, but isn’t it fading away with what is being done right now anyway? I mean, I can't remember the last time I burned up some gray cells work-wise.

I avoid all forms of human contact, primarily the eyes. That pain, which flows from one human to another through the mere look into each other's eyes, is earth shattering. Only the mighty would have the courage to face such wrath, leave alone a soulless worker without a dream.

There goes the lady I had promised to help last week and had conveniently forgotten; I had another task I couldn't say No to. Duck before she meets my eye. Now, there is the guy who has been trying to get my attention everyday for the last month, so that we could make a final word draft of our newsletter. Got too much on my mind for that now, quickly slip behind the column. Missed him.

Is it me, or are the walls really closing in on me? Room to breathe is subsiding by the minute and the gases breathed out from the human machines seeps into my lungs, eeking strange bile to every physical corner of my body. Freshness is missing, green is unknown, as the greys and the blacks of this world engulf me, the blanket getting impenetrable by the minute. I cough out and breathe heavily, a desperate attempt to revive the life slowly fading away.

As I swipe myself out of the dungeon, some part of reality slips back in. The windows dazzle and shine bright in the brilliance of the festivities outside. With each bursting thunder, soaring up from the world celebrating the festival of lights, my vision lightens up with the myriad colors it has to offer. For the fraction of second that each explosion lives, it engulfs the world around it in light, in the angelic hope that it has to offer. All this only to be eaten back by all the darkness, my frustrated mind thinks. No, I need positivity, my heart decides. Time for decision is here.

Enough, I conclude, of the monotony; living each moment for its worth is the key, I realize. I remember some great man say; never live a life where you are praying for the weekend every passing minute. I think back to days of innocence, childhood memories of bliss at trivial matters; down to earth experiences that brought with it heavenly pleasures. That first ride down the Giant wheel; the first time I watched the fire cracker sit there, quietly letting me light it; The horror movie watched between fingers clasping the face shut; The first extra size ice cream that I enjoyed; The first time I had the complete candy bar for myself, no sisters to share it with; The first time I scared all my cousins in a game of Dark room. A smile slowly creeps in at the silent corners of the face.

I had turned myself into a slave and no one could buy me freedom from this but me. So my mind is made, I shall turn around; walk back to the confines of my desk; shut down (off) anything that has to be; walk back to life and live it for the moment.

This moment makes me want to go down there where all the action is and become one with the lights and sounds of the night. And that is exactly what I will do right now, my mind reinstates, as I walk back to my seat. Imagine the bliss of throwing it all away and walking back to life, my heart flirts with the thought. I was finally going to do something that would make me a hero amongst equals, I infer, the one who dared to give all the goodies up for at least a minute of purity.

Here I am amidst things that shackle me...There lies the switch that will turn it all off...Yes.! Here I stretch to hit it off; Slowly..Let me enjoy this moment..And.. PING..!! What..?? A bug..?? In my code..?? Impossible...What the hell do you know..!! {type...type...into the night...}

Ramblings of a Loser

It was a tiring day, one of those were you felt squeezed, used and wretched at the end of it. I went back to a lonely house and let the lights remain off. The cozy sofa no longer relished my weight on it. Was it me or was it that every other thing around me had begun to hate me. Every other thing. Or every other being..!!

It wasn’t with any extra effort that thoughts took over the silent recesses of my mind. They were happy thoughts, from a time when life knew colors other than black, white and multiple shades of grey. When mornings were yellow and orange, afternoons were red and magenta, evenings drowned in pink and green and nights wrapped in shades of blue.

Any thought from good old days had you in it. With the recent changes, I tried to get them out forcedly. But they wouldn’t listen; Prodigal that they turn out to be. They tell me of all the good times I had had with you. All the mornings that I had woken up with your smell lingering around. All the nights that I had spent in your company. Worse were the nights that I had spent locked in your arms. Two beings beating as one. Those sent a train of chill down my spine. Misery!

I thought of all our escapades; out from hell to our few hours of sanity. Remember dragging you forcedly to my house one night. I wonder if this holds any part of your memory space, but I remember that quiet kiss at the door steps. I try hard but fail to erase it from the chambers lost in the head. Sweet Misery in itself.

Pain! This makes me remember that first time we held hands. Sitting quietly at the back of a dingy bus, it was more of a godly intervention than an intentional brush of hands. And the first time still rests engraved in my heart walls.

There was that other time, again I wonder if you remember this, when I reached hell early in the morning and you were there to pick me up. Seeing you in the brink of that early morning innocence!! Utter torture!

I sit quiet and list the number of Firsts that I have had with you in my life. First one to teach me what love was. First one who taught me what it was to feel important. First one who made me feel wanted. First one to leave me wanting for more. First one who taught me the tortures wrapped up in a kiss. First one who made me see heaven in sheer silence and company. First one who taught me the warmth in a relationship that can be the worst storms. First one who made me jealous of every other person who shared your partnership.

And the first one who made me cry from the heart. I remember the pain each parting caused. Every time you left me, I remember repenting ever having met you. You brought out such hatred in me, with your mere absence. I felt that it was all a mistake and Love was a dream. A mere fantasy that eludes you like the fleeting horizon by the shore. Takes you deeper and deeper into the ocean, only to let you drown in the lowest of the lows.

Such a low, where resurrection was unheard of. An abyss from where not even the adept can find your remains. That’s the pit were love leaves you. Lying alone, half dead and half alive, a mere vegetable.

I brush my thoughts off. Yes! It has been a tiring day. You're a memory, my past. I look forward and hope the gloom leaves me alone. I close my dull grey eyes and silence. Damn the bloody day when I promised friends to Quit Smoking!