Beautiful Day

Much to the chagrin of Harold Camping, though nature came close to being a conspirator in the doomsday prophecy scandal - it parted ways mocking at the gentlemen, right at the outset. Camping perhaps wanted to do a Yahweh for an encore ! This has been the story from the National Capital Region (India) at-least.

Church's imagination of the world being sinful enough to not be able to to see Jesus incarnate, had once given a fillip to Kellogs' - a 'vegetarian' breakfast. We'll have to wait and see if there's more than what meets the eye here.

Amidst the deliberations over the existence of paradise and God by Stephen Hawking and a sounding board revelation by Camping, nature had it's last laugh, dancing away in wild frenzy for the whole of the weekend !

The last two days have been heavenly for the lesser mortals like me. For such days in the month of a sweltering May are unimaginable.With May 21st evening full of  'Lights, Sounds and Actions' and the day fresh like mint, Nature truly stole the show. Was a delight to watch pigeons, eagles, sparrows and other birds throw themselves aimlessly at the gusts of wind as they would carry them all over the sky. The wriggling trees drenching themselves in the rain with sounds of thunder and streaks of lightening, giving blushes to the miniature replicas created by us.

There were other sounds too, though. Those that were more scary than the validity of any such prophecy. Some 39 people lost their lives in Uttar Pradesh alone, because of heavy rains. Given how I know my country and the people at the helm of affairs, I'm sure these are doctored numbers. At a rather lesser level of shock are - the new born, unprotected, stray puppy in my colony which cried it's lungs out with its first encounter with the ferociousness..and perhaps the water-clogging, because of an isolated shower, which brought the people to a standstill in the most urbane part of my country !

We talk of a consternation over the end of this world.. Or has it well begun ? !

Wanderings..

Deep in the recesses of my mind, I hear the silence of my soul.  The garden of life, rife with the flowers blossomed afresh and the ones wilted at the hands of neglect. There’s a charm in the rawness of it all, even as it looks a poser – beckoning to prune it with my own hands.  As I’m drawn to get to its core and let passion rule, the flurry leaves a confounded sense of disbelief. I believe, I do and I don’t and I have to or is it just convenient. I evolve, but really, do I ever..?

To come to think of the consequential, the eventualities that could stall a journey called life – not sure if even death comes close ! And to think of a journey replete with meaning would lead to what .. ? And meaning is but a word, or just another word. Having scaled the heights of a language, defined thoughts that are otherwise only the impressions on my mind, I reconcile with the universality of my being.  But sometimes the truth of distinction and difference is glaring even after giving it euphemistic hues. The veil of sobriety covering the most hideous of a face and a make believe existence of it being all right, can't take away the viciousness of it all. And the most innocuous of all the expressions, for all that looks beyond my reach, in mending the ways I want to tread, is a little sigh that escapes and another breath as almost an immediate after- effect, replaces it unabashed and hopeful.

How I have been flirting with my thoughts, as mere entertainer for my being, that rests disinterested and removed from the antics of a desperate another being in me, yearning for an experience, indulging in the shenanigans - understood to be the basis of a reasoned life. A constant push and pull and the ultimate crashing into an unknown everyday which I call a routine is what I fade into. 

I sometimes wonder at the legacy of hope showered on us by the very fact of our being human beings. And it would be so unfair to deny its play and its hold in keeping one from reducing to a bundle of shreds. I hear the laughter, the chatter, the groan, the cry all rolled up in one voice and that voice is mine too. I end up partaking my own share of rain and sunshine as I feel it on my skin and as I isolate from the fact that it percolates that - which exists.

The awe for the marvels we see in life is perhaps its very nemesis. In the realms of imagination- the glitter and shine of success, fame, eloquence, love, peace, joy and tranquility will keep moving the mountains and the seas, for I will believe.

Being Alone

 

The head is heavy. I feel the weight as I move it a little. There’s a searing pain in the right temple, as I attempt to open my eyes. And as my eyes open like slits, one opens reservedly. I can feel some fluid blurring my vision of the one. The other seems fine still.

Slowly by pieces I feel the parts lying bundled together as one body, as I shudder to discover anything missing. In subdued expressions of pain – I try to figure out this eventuality. With some effort I rise up a bit to make some sense of what’s around. I see bushes long and short, thick vegetation, a deep canopy through which some sun has sneaked in here and there. There’s a nip in the air which smells of wild flora and fauna, and I lay awkwardly in the middle of all this. The place lacks any traces of human imprints and the eeriness of it refuses to sink down. As my heart beats to a crescendo I struggle to find out the reasons that have got me here.

Faint voices echo in my head-

‘We are flying 7000 feet above the sea-level. The weather is turbulent. Please fasten your seat-belts and remain seated. Please use emergency exits in case of an eventuality and do not panic’

This is the most livid nightmare I could’ve ever had. I pinch myself. I frantically look around. There are traces of a wreckage at a short distance. I long to see something or someone familiar now. But there’s an adamant refusal to any change I try to make to my position. In a sublimely conscious state I decide to savor this loneliness thrust upon me.

Not that this is the first time that I am alone, but it is unique in its own way. That this came as a sheer surprise is one. But the fact that living and dying hereon would be a case of conjecture rather than anticipation, is another.

So many times did I envisage in the loftiness of a pristine youth – the glamour of solitude, the exclusivity that somberness bestows on the beholder and the reverence that being sedate evokes – an antithesis to all that is wild, bold and loud. But like many other childhood notions – the growing up process has proved to be a coup-de-grace for these too. For life is perhaps a simple truth of a dawn, a day and a night. There’s not much within or beyond. There are facades more than what we are aware of. The ultimate struggle being a confluence of these. Where some prefer the decibels others prefer to go mute. Quietude and boredom could well be interchangeable and serenity might just be a cover for a brooding mind. In a similar vein – a boisterous mien, a cover for something sacred or secret, or a desperation to dodge the deafening noises within. Devious are our ways, even to ourselves.

I hear some ruffling of the leaves nearby. Some voices that I can’t fathom. I’m losing it again it seems and slipping into silence.

My Blog

Another blog is born today on May 10, 2011. The one thing that makes it special is the word 'My' associated with it. The reason as I see for letting it see the light of the day, is a transmogrification of a self, which seeks an expression beyond the limits permitted by the euphemistic truths and morals. As a witness to, verily, a phantom chase which has at times harnessed the flora and perfumed the wind, and at others, helped me reconcile with the  fallen autumn leaves - whose yellow mellows me down. As I await more green seasons, I'm oblivious of the fact of what I would reclaim from the times forgone. 

The interactions and transactions continue with the world around. There are threads that I seek to keep intact with the past and the present into the future forward. That I plan for years henceforth, is an interesting shift too, with the proven capacity of time to turn the events head-over-heels in a snap of fingers. 

Having lived, felt and reasoned the numbers that spell my age now - there's a lingering desire to share my world with my phantom cosmos. There's a certain belief of being heard. No qualms if that's a delusion again, as assumption that you're being heard by sentient beings, has not stood the test of time either !

Historical data serves an importance they say, in the empirical world of measures and forecasts. Memory serves it's utility too, in delving in the depths of time and restating the world in a retrospect.Comparative benchmarks being indispensable tools could be another debate but as an allowance for a simpler comprehension of existential angst, would override the rider.

My 'Taurian' blog should exude the traits of solidity, practicality, extreme determination and strength of will- coming from a popular site on astro-signs. If that's how it translates - hope it positively influences me and you !