Let's Waste Time..

I play with your mind, you play with mine!
Whatever happens to this god-given life.
Precious, is not the word for the swine.
I have an ego to massage, You have thine.

Let's waste time.


Let me have my say and win, and celebrate your loss.
When I lose, I too become a rot.
Whatever happens to our self, is an imaginary thought!

Let me know my little world - for it's all that I got.
In the twilight of my life,
I will sit and reflect, if everything was a naught.

For now let me be drunk, on who is who and what is what.
Let me be one, with all who are similarly caught. 
I want to feel at home, although I'm lost.

Let me not think of way back, until it's too late.
For I fear finding, what I really sought.
So let me just be, it's my escape from lots.

Dear Success

It only suits a successful man to talk of the importance of a failure !

Who does not love or want success? But unfortunately or fortunately, it's a few things that you could choose to be successful at. Rest are endured in the spirit of completing the circle.It's heartening to be received as successful - as sometimes it's a burden of a tired soul, trying to find an approval of it's own ideas, and at others an answer to a question, long sought. I have experienced this dialogue so many times, in my mind.

Deep within, there is a die-hard believer in most of us, who wants to stand a little longer, wants to be heard for some more time. One can sometimes feel elevated with success stories, even though the recipe has been recycled and served.

Self and its matters are germinal subjects, when it comes to motivation. Happiness is perhaps the second most important. My only contention is that - in retrospect, perhaps most of us think that we have dealt amazingly with our situations, but could we ever lose the gravity while we were in/with them ? And then the argument is that you need to experience, all shades of life, to keep alive. So, my point is - why bother then ?

I think rationality is a benchmark, that most of us have, for our decisions. Pursuit of self can verge on to the pursuit of selfishness. It's not an easy life because all of us think and think differently. And that holds in the idea of success and failure too.

I feel, there could be more happiness, if not sought. More of self when not searched ! But success is alluring, very comely in demeanor.Failure, if not translated to success, is despicable. The tryst goes on.. and I keep hooked on to dear success..

Wet Wet Wet !

And it rained! :)

6:00 pm. Over 40 degree Celsius. Clouds dark grey, managing to block the sun, but for a few rays, lending the gloss to the rocks and the plants beneath. I can see very beautiful, cinematic colors of green, grey, orange, brown (well, name it !) – spread out on a large canvas before me. Times when you want your journey to last longer.. Another 20 mins and there lands a big rain-drop on my window, and then another follows and in no time, its like a splash !

After enjoying the scene from behind the wet screen for some more time, I reach my station. I disembark - immediately conscious of the need to shelter myself from the downpour. I hire a rickshaw, which barely shelters me and my belongings. There’s a group of young lads walking in the pools of water beside the roads. Kicking it now ‘n’ then, to wet their sidekicks. I have an urge to join them…but the awareness of the overflowing drainage, keeps the thoughts in check.  

There’s a bit of chaos and confusion on the road, as commuters try to figure out its steady parts. I inch closer to my home, in the middle of the sound of horns and tempers and mutual dialogs between strangers. I can see someone, with his motorbike stuck on something submerged in water. As I contemplate whether to get down and help or stay put, wishing well, I hear a loud horn.. and ..

Splash !  

The next moment I’m all wet !

There's a young biker who whizzes past, piercing through the pool of water, making sprays of water jets, wetting the civilized neighborhood, evoking the choicest invectives they have known, in their life ! My being is amused.. suddenly woken up !

I’m aware of bacteria and the other inhabitants of the hidden world, resting on me, right now.. but for the maiden rain of this season – I could bear with them ! :)

Flicker

The candle had been melting slowly. Soft breeze almost flirting with the flame, tickling it here and there. I had been watching it with a purposeless, keen intent. With the rest of the world soaked in darkness, the interplay looked amusing. It were the wee hours of the night, with occasional bark of the dog and rustle of the leaves, as the wind caressed them. I sat right beside the candle, making some abstract association with it.

There had been a major technical snag and the people had been rendered 'powerless' and quite literally so. As I sat at  the window, enjoying the subtle, silent moves, that were only possible with the darkness- I noticed myself too - moving and dancing with the flame, on the opposite wall.

My rather stationary self had been playing all along, beyond my cognizance of the fact..I knew this would be a short game that would at the most, last till dawn. I looked out, peeping into the ocean of black. I got down from the window and blew the candle off. Game over !

All was one and I was one with all..

Cryptic Karma

‘It’s his karma and nothing else’, he said to the man with him as the third parted.

 I was standing in a queue, ahead of them, waiting for my order to be delivered. I took my packet and started for home. But somehow the conversation stayed with me, as I walked.  

There’s a lot of invocation of subjects as intricate as Karma, in our daily parlance. Regular chit-chats are replete with allusions and casual mentions to Karma and Destiny, like household subjects.  Krishna’a treatise on Karma, the beloved Hindu scripture, ‘Bhagawad Gita’ – has had innumerable translations by men of towering stature. It's popularly known as ‘The Gita Rahasya’ (the mystery of Gita) – and the phrase sums up the human dilemma about the good, the bad, the ugly and the unknown.

In very crude terms –  we interpret karma in terms of gain and loss. Whatever leads to a gain is a good karma and all that results in a loss is the bad karma. I feel such definitions are a little too myopic. Karma should serve as a stepping stone, like the one set by a hiker for his next step, as one tries to realize his purpose of existence. Gains or losses are a part and parcel of every event. How can they ever be the terminal indicators!

Many individuals, who come across as the believers of the ideology that they are the makers of their destiny, show up the chinks when they lose. One can see that they’ve given in to the thought that - All that makes you lose is devised by the people or circumstances around you and all that makes you gain is in accordance with your abilities. We are many a times one of them. It takes a heart to bear it all by yourself otherwise !

Whatever it is, however complicated or simple. I think it's a cake that each one cooks and has it too - through one birth or many. Perhaps the remedial lies in the word -  Chireveti ! Chireveti ! (Go On..)
 

In the name of '___'

She daubs her face with a foundation, lightens the dark circles with an under-eye shade, puts a touch of mascara on the eye-lashes, smears some anti-wrinkle cream  and colours her lips with her favourite stick. And as she looks close to being 'naturally' beautiful, she rushes out, checking her watch to keep an appointment. She has to conduct a workshop on trust and openness.

Her bag has a laptop with presentations on many such subjects, which are a proprietary of XYZ corporation, for which she works. She had been amongst the brightest in the fraternity and her work gets her to deal with the best in the industry.

Today's theme is - 'How to maintain a familial eco-system in a growing organization ?'.There are many intellectuals present to deliberate on the issue. And her contention would be with building trust and openness.

Quite a few of her subordinates have spent long hours to get the slides in place. Cribbing about her high-handedness and being a taskmaster. The rebellious few, sometimes playing a hard-ball. They believe that they are merely being used to reap the gains. The other intellectuals have subordinates, who too feel similarly.

It's evening and it's been an extensive discussion. After the high-tea, she heads back to her apartment. Almost fighting with her thoughts, trying to keep them at bay. But succumbing now and then to her own vulnerability. Approaching a home broken on grounds of loss of trust , and working with people researching and deliberating on issues of organizational and human relevance - each failing with them, in his/her own way..

'C'est la vie..' - she sighs..

Be with me - in my violence !

A lot of media stories are talking of atrocities on infants and children these days. And needless to say, mostly they are about the female child and human trafficking sometimes. Babies found dumped in dustbins, children who’ve succumbed to the blind lust of lecherous men – trying to suck out their innocence. Infants, who’re products of violence and have been consumed by it.

Media works for its ‘bites’, and such stories attract good attention. But I have seen such mishaps with my eyes- when ironically, I had more pressing concerns, such as, catching a train on time or putting my car on ignition as the lights turned green, at a red light. I couldn’t have possibly done much in all those situations, given that I had been a girl myself and there were hoards of approving or indifferent eyes around. But they left some deep-seated impressions and a powerful imagery.

In some public places, as acts of downplayed violence, even in a ladies queue, women constantly nudge you to move ahead, with no space to move. Leave alone what would happen with men around. You’re sized up for the girth of your curves with those scrutinizing eyes, badgered with some lewd comments etc. In exclusive circles, the handling is subtle. For sure, all this is not generically applicable to both genders.

Violence is being manifested in many different ways.. The ones in thoughts, actions, words and emotions. There's a social amalgamation taking place with the advent of globalization, media and internet. Social thinkers had predicted such implications long back. But what worries me, if at all, is the realization of a theory, that we, human beings understand but little, of morality, fairness and other such beatific and pacific ideals - that it's a venal humanity subject to morality in the purview of self-interest.

Although, the debate that whether institutions would always be needed for decorum, or can we be instinctively led, would be a long ranging one - but it's just a wish, that one day we would. Unfortunately, even peace is interpreted as a case of one-up-man-ship mostly. It's an every soul's need. And by virtue of a human birth, I believe, it's deserved too..Till then, I think, we'll be looking up to the heaven's above, seeking some solace in our individual violence !

Story Teller

Ron the master story teller had been spinning some of greatest stories of his time. He was from the city of Joy. He and other story tellers would tell stories and the rest of the city’s inhabitants would live by enacting them. It was a good city, where peace and calm prevailed. Life in all its colors was embraced by one and all. It bordered the city of sorrow. The thematic being that of, travails and tribulations, which bind a human spirit in unrelenting shackles.  The city of sorrow too had story tellers and actors, enacting the pangs of misery and pain.

Though the two cities were in neighborhood, they were dreaded by either of their inhabitants. Because once anyone had lived in both, he always left for the third world- never to come back. And no one knew what that third world was.

Ron, a virtuoso, had a deep and sublime idea of well-being, which would shine through his works. But he knew that he was still missing the forest for trees. Like a man possessed, he would spend hours in dissertations on happiness, to verify its veracity. But it being the city of joy, had nothing contrary to offer. As time passed, his idea grew bigger than himself. He started to experience what he never had – queasiness and an inexplicable flurry – that alienated him amongst his men. His loneliness which he couldn’t define started to affect his work and clarity of thought.

One fine day, he thought it was his calling. The third world had summoned him. He started for the city of sorrow. And as he went around the city, he slowly found meaning to his own state. He was familiar with tears, but these were warm as from deep despondency within. His heart would contract, mind would be numb. He would be feverish and would spin some heart-rending stories for the actors.

Some years went by and he started to lose the art of story telling. He was lonely again - but this was the most comfortable state he was in, thus far.. The quality of this solitude was what he was seeking. Stories died and he was unwanted, unsought again - giving him the indication to his final destination.

Nobody knew where he went thereafter, but his parting words were - 'I come to freedom, melted and warm - mould me, the way you want'

History Repeats Itself?

Yes the point is, does it really?

Apple falling on the ground led Newton to discover gravity. And that has through ages been responsible for many related phenomena in the universe. And then Einstein propounds his own version and makes it a push factor of time and space instead of the pull of a heavenly body. Apples still fall on the ground, because of Einstein’s or Newton’s gravity. History repeats depending on the perspectives taken!

I opine that it can never repeat itself. The impossibility of marriage of time, space and circumstance would preclude such a happening. Given the existence of ever advancing time, this doesn’t look like a possibility either.

A great discovery is countered or enhanced with time. This could be a novelty or a continuity of a pattern. A horseman fallen off it brushes himself up and gets back on the saddle. The next time he falls is another fall, another event under different circumstances.History is an alibi for bias and familiarity.  

I look at the various facets of the universe – mesmerized and lost. I’m sure it’ll reveal some :)

Downstream..

Silently the river flows beside me. I have been watching its huge expanse. I'm in the middle of an adventure trip, where the river had been wild in places. Its rapids of violent waters headbanging against small hillocks. I had been there, in them, holding someone, something or scampering to do the same.

Now it looked smooth and peaceful in close comfort of the skirting mountains - gentle and divine, though I still reeled under a gamut of emotions, of having sailed through. Not that the panorama has changed too much - but it seems like I'll be more practiced now. It's slowly growing on me.

I get into the water to float and feel the lightness of my body, holding the hand of a friend, whom I met in this expedition - at times losing and at times finding her support, in the rock-n-roll !

At some distance, I see more rapids coming - I'm quite tired but patient..bring it on..

Pure

My little one heard a sermon a few days back. More on the lines that we all have an expiry date. Older people vacate earlier and the younger ones stay on for some more years.

She asked me - 'So you'll leave ?'. 

I said - 'No, not like how you think. There's a lot of time !'. 

'Well ! But you'll leave that means ?'

'In a way yes, but let's talk of something else...'

'You lied - I don't want to talk to you now !'

I'm struggling with life, how do I explain death to you - I thought as I wound up my cooking chores.

That was that.

And today, as I close in on to my little one, to pick her up in my arms and kiss her forehead, she cringes at my touch. I feel a twitch in my heart as she looks at me with complaints writ large on her face. Her sensitivity makes me gulp down lumps of emotion, as a rush of them brings tears to my eyes. It's a strange relationship I'm discovering with her. Wouldn't I love to live like this forever! But I know, my little one would
grow too, into a woman who would be a source of strength. And then she would know it all. For now I just happily snuggle the sleeping angel, before she writes me a loving epitaph..
__________________________________________________________________________

Inspired from a conversation.

Contradictions..

It's interesting. We are generally aware of our strengths and flaws, and perhaps those of people around. The fact remains that when we, with limited knowledge, are the frames of reference, the inferences are only relative or misconstrued..But then, it seems, we are programmed to draw them - to make some sense of this world !

Beside a personal or individual note - there are things which are prevalent and accepted facts, but delve deeper and you'd feel flummoxed at times. Laws are to ensure order and safety, but a closer look would unravel that they are meant for crime and for criminals, who break them. A rather symbiotic relationship between the two.  Police is meant for maintaining order - but its existence is relevant only when there's disorder. A doctor's profession of ensuring health, is relevant only when there is disease. An army is not needed when there is peace.Though that is the objective of having one in place. Talent - a personal, natural ability has no foundation without an audience and acceptance. There could be many more instances to exemplify.

We live in a world of bizarre contradictions. And a ricochet of such thoughts could keep one busy for a lifetime. Sometimes I feel that it's a concoction that has been given benign colors, which are otherwise the  dark schools of thought, that human mind is capable of. And it has been served down to generations - with not much of a rebellion. Or maybe its the fear that - 'If you knew that you would find a truth, That brings a pain that can't be soothed' (from the song - Change, Tracy Chapman) - that impresses upon us, to believe.

Not sure if it's an inherent lack of trust that is the cause of this fear, or despite knowing that we spend a short duration as a lifetime, our obsession with security- physical, mental and emotional, the reason !

Drift

He had just got down to writing the letter, when the bell rang. A parcel had arrived. There was a packet with a note, which read - 

'I had put up the pieces of my heart, not to have coins of sympathy thrown all over, like you would to a beggar ! I was never into a profession of misery.. I was always an embodiment of strength. Just wanted to see if you had some to stand-by and lend a dependable shoulder !

Have put all those coins together in the third shelf of the cupboard. Use them along with this parcel, and go get a heart !..'

He folded it with a mirthless smile and looked at his own letter, which so far read..

'You know what - I never needed your sympathy ...' 

'Even though we've fallen apart, we've managed to fall together..Strange ...', he thought as he put the parcel in the third shelf and his own incomplete letter in the second shelf - his collection..

As he closed it, he wondered if either of them would ever need these collections anymore !

The Unsaid

There was a merchant of precious stones in the city of Armilli. His name was Hortin. The city had been a coastal, secluded settlement for almost a couple of centuries. The inhabitants made a living with the help of the resources, the place was abound with.So not much of a trade was carried out with the neighboring cities. It was prosperous and people spent their time peacefully, carrying out their respective occupations.

But Hortin, was an adventurer of sorts. Young as he was, he had spent last 5 years of his life, diving deep into the sea and bringing some unknown stones from its bosom, to the surface. He would sell some and keep the others, to admire for life..Now, he wanted to explore the land and discover new places and civilizations. He bought a sturdy, brown horse, named Nello. 

From whatever little was known of the outside world - the closest city was a 7-day journey by a horse. After spending a few days of educating and equipping himself for the terrain, the route, the requisites - Hortin decided to embark on one, with Nello.

It had been 5 days of experiencing, discovering and wondering in an alien land with just a living soul around - to share his thoughts, his food, his company with. Nello, in turn had also been sentient enough to acknowledge his master's presence, reciprocate the occasional affection and although reticent being an animal - listen to him and offer a respectful, loving silence to Hortin's monologues.

By the 6th day - the duo was tired and had stopped coming across landmarks that should've guided the journey ahead. Fear of having lost the way had started gripping Hortin. Nello was slowly losing the strength to sustain for a few more days. By the day's end - resting against Nello's brown torso, shining in the luminosity of the moon, Hortin contemplated on what was to come. Disheartened - he slept with his friend. 

They should've have been in a close proximity of the city by then. But there was no trace of a city in sight. More days went by. By the end of ninth day, they were running out of even water.. Nello was barely walking, though some signs of human life had started appearing.

Tenth day into the journey - it was afternoon and Nello had almost given up. He crashed to the ground. No mark of water could be seen, though Hortin sensed that they were just a few miles from the city. He thought he could cover the rest of it on foot. But how would he leave Nello, dying like this. Ten days with him, had been magical. And though all was non-committal - it had been special. Nello looked at him tenderly without askance. And as Hortin embraced him and caressed his manes, he felt bound.

After thinking for a while, Hortin picked up the bag of pearls, he had got and walked towards the city. Nello's gaze followed him, till he could see him no more and closed his eyes.

By evening - Hortin reached the city. Thick black clouds had covered it. It was going to rain. Something told him that his wish had been granted. His heart was bubbling with joy. It had started to pour. Hortin traded a few pearls, bought some food, and hired a horse. He dared the inclement weather and set back for the place where he had left his friend, hoping that the waters' from the heaven's above would have revived Nello.
The rains had letup.He paced his horse and eventually reached his destination.

But Nello was gone...

Hortin frantically searched around in the thick of the night - yelling his name aloud, for no response in return, except for the echoes of a hollow space. Teary eyed he kept the food he had got, and turned towards the city...

FISH ! Why me ? :P

Yesterday night I tripped in the middle of the road (thanks to a stone that missed my line and sphere of sight). I was accompanied by a group of formal friends. It was rather embarrassing, by regular standards. For a woman of my age, sophistication is a natural expectation. And I tend to disappoint people big-time. I’m not yet a lady and not sure, if I ever want to be one ! So this incident, though brought chuckles to me and the one’s around – also set me thinking of the embarrassments I’ve had  - those that I have enjoyed in my solitude and with people extremely close.

As one of my friends says – we’re all stories and we keep telling stories. I have some to share. Not stories, but moments.. Some of those moments were -

•   When in a South Indian Temple I was asked to take off my shirt(as a ritual for men, while visiting it), as they took me to be a boy! (Mind you, I was 5 then  :) )                                                                                                               
•  In my college, when an audible fart escaped while standing in a queue with a friend. Guess where ?, the place was – the library ! Quiet, with no escape or cover up, quite literally..                                                                                                                                            
•  At my first workplace – in a stint of a couple of weeks – engrossed in an Einstein-ish state of mind, I entered the Gents' Toilet. Realizing it only after appalling a poor soul.                                                                                                                                                                                                              
•  When I sincerely discussed the relevance of Karva-Chauth(a Hindu festival) in my school with my teacher, and gave it a laughable interpretation. I was pretty old for it !                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
•  To dodge an onlooker on the road, lest I be perceived as insane( I talk loudly with myself sometimes) – I broke into a song, to justify my lip movements ! (this I do occasionally)                                                                                                                                                                                             
• While dancing in an empty, descending elevator, ended up in a pose as it opened. The gentlemen right outside made a complementary welcoming pose, which I ignored(like a lady) and moved on !

-          

There are so many more that I can recall ! And I’m sure all of us have some or the other such tales to tell. For the more socially conscious, they are the instances that put the curve in place, in their private moments. I can’t stop grinning mostly, at my or other people’s ‘moments', publicly or otherwise.

Feeling small and stupid can be elevating sometimes. It relieves you of a lot of pretenses and labels that you acquire while 'maturing'. A child's life always looks more hassle-free. I would love to rewind years !