We are a clean slate when born. Whilst growing it gets filled with contents and the first few chapters are written. When we gain proper consciousness we re-learn some of the elementals that were instilled in us and re-write our book.
The reason I say ‘proper’ is because though we might attain cognizance at an early stage but it is true only when we start rationalising the same. Am I being comprehendible?
Innocence is also something that we are born with but then it gets chipped away with time. Circumstances mould us and we realise that the principles we base our lives on and hold close to heart will have to go through some minor alterations to suit the outside. What happens if we don’t let go of those? What if we want to live in the ideal world? Why can’t we? It’s said, “Do unto others what you want to be done unto you”. Why doesn’t that hold true? Are these a lot of questions?
I guess the answer lies in the theory of evolution. Survival of the fittest. Those who are in a fluid state of motion progress with the times and those like me who want to have a few constants, try and grasp at the last strands to breathe. We ponder whether to breathe we should compromise and also to what end. Would we be able to live with the weight of the conciliation against our wishes?
Do not want to disown the dream I had. Would love to see it live the reality but for that I would have to let go of some of my beliefs. More importantly would have to open up, even if there is a high possibility of falling. There is an upside to falling. It allows our friends to catch you. Just make sure that those friends have sure hands.
Infinity goes in both directions but does it ensure I’ll get another chance? Wouldn’t know till I allow myself to breathe. But have to hurry before the quicksand engulfs me.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Journeys
A good friend was travelling today on work. What surprised me was the mode of transportation she was taking. The train. I was taken aback. In today’s jet set age, we hate wasting any precious moments. But here she was taking this journey on a whole bunch of wheels. She said it was much better than taking a flight which contributed more to pollution than the train. Point taken but what got me hooked was the spiral my mind did thinking of her travel mode.
Exercised my memory to find the last time I was on a train. Realised it was quite a long time ago. There was a time when while being in Bangalore, I used to travel from Calcutta on the famous Coromondal Express. I used to prep myself with a good read, my disc man with all my favourite CD’s and some clean sandwiches and my tomato juice. I was all set. Somehow would always get the side bunk and I had it all to myself. Being a single girl travelling, had its share of inquisitive eyes but would deftly ward them off with the strict strapping of the earphones and either gluing my eyes to the book or just shutting them off. Bought my solitude and enjoyed it.
When the train left the city limits and ventured into the endless fields of paddy, I gazed out. They were lush green and at times there would be farmers tending to their crops or there would be that lone scarecrow beckoning. The blue skies would put on their show of clouds in different shapes. I have always loved clouds and make my own interpretation of their shapes. And invariably always questioned the creator of the universe. How did he master this art? It was just so perfect.
A commotion would interrupt my attention to the rest of the compartment and then would have to make eye contact with the rest. Some would take that opportunity to open up a conversation and courtesy the good manners that the nuns taught me at SJC, I would be obliged to make some small talk. The small talk would range from the basics of where I was travelling; why I was travelling alone; did I have anyone to receive me at my destination; what was I doing in life and etc etc. Somewhere there would be that nosy parker who would be waiting for the right opportunity to plop the question of what my status was – single or married. Always used to bet with myself about the time frame this question would take to pop from either that lovely uncle or aunty seated on the lower berth.
Never was much of a conversationalist when it came to strangers or maybe it was only when travelling I donned that personality. Rationalised it by saying it was a short journey and one is not in touch with this bunch of unknown strangers when disembarking. Right? But then that is not true. I had met one of my very first crushes on a train journey and that too right under the nose of my hitleresque dad. I still wonder with amusement the way the phone number got slipped in my hands just before getting off at Patna. I can still clearly remember the way the conversation unfolded between us and how it just didn’t seem to want to take a breath. How he protected me when a rowdy group was creating a disturbance and in that how just one accidental touch sent shivers up my spine. I was just in class 10 but Jammu Tawai express just made that journey into a memorable one.
Today they all say time is of the essence. Wasn’t it before too? I am sure it was. Still people did travel by trains and still got the work done. What do achieve by the few hours we cut by flying? Of course I just mean inter country travel and not when one has to go out of their airspaces.
There is so much we miss. I used to love having that matka chai in spite of not being a tea drinker. Loved getting up in the morning to the chaos of the train grinding to a halt with one huge whoosh of smoke at one of the main stations and all the porters or the vendors shouting and selling their wares. Enjoyed standing by the door and taking in the morning breeze when the train started again. I also would make it a point in all my train journeys to get out of my 2 tier AC and take a walk across the compartments. I would then just stand by the doorways there for the course of one whole CD and steal a glimpse in the life of a set of people whose lives didn’t frequent mine. It grounded me.
Told myself that need to take a train trip soon. No particular reason but to just savour the air and the sound of the ever familiar chug of the train.
Exercised my memory to find the last time I was on a train. Realised it was quite a long time ago. There was a time when while being in Bangalore, I used to travel from Calcutta on the famous Coromondal Express. I used to prep myself with a good read, my disc man with all my favourite CD’s and some clean sandwiches and my tomato juice. I was all set. Somehow would always get the side bunk and I had it all to myself. Being a single girl travelling, had its share of inquisitive eyes but would deftly ward them off with the strict strapping of the earphones and either gluing my eyes to the book or just shutting them off. Bought my solitude and enjoyed it.
When the train left the city limits and ventured into the endless fields of paddy, I gazed out. They were lush green and at times there would be farmers tending to their crops or there would be that lone scarecrow beckoning. The blue skies would put on their show of clouds in different shapes. I have always loved clouds and make my own interpretation of their shapes. And invariably always questioned the creator of the universe. How did he master this art? It was just so perfect.
A commotion would interrupt my attention to the rest of the compartment and then would have to make eye contact with the rest. Some would take that opportunity to open up a conversation and courtesy the good manners that the nuns taught me at SJC, I would be obliged to make some small talk. The small talk would range from the basics of where I was travelling; why I was travelling alone; did I have anyone to receive me at my destination; what was I doing in life and etc etc. Somewhere there would be that nosy parker who would be waiting for the right opportunity to plop the question of what my status was – single or married. Always used to bet with myself about the time frame this question would take to pop from either that lovely uncle or aunty seated on the lower berth.
Never was much of a conversationalist when it came to strangers or maybe it was only when travelling I donned that personality. Rationalised it by saying it was a short journey and one is not in touch with this bunch of unknown strangers when disembarking. Right? But then that is not true. I had met one of my very first crushes on a train journey and that too right under the nose of my hitleresque dad. I still wonder with amusement the way the phone number got slipped in my hands just before getting off at Patna. I can still clearly remember the way the conversation unfolded between us and how it just didn’t seem to want to take a breath. How he protected me when a rowdy group was creating a disturbance and in that how just one accidental touch sent shivers up my spine. I was just in class 10 but Jammu Tawai express just made that journey into a memorable one.
Today they all say time is of the essence. Wasn’t it before too? I am sure it was. Still people did travel by trains and still got the work done. What do achieve by the few hours we cut by flying? Of course I just mean inter country travel and not when one has to go out of their airspaces.
There is so much we miss. I used to love having that matka chai in spite of not being a tea drinker. Loved getting up in the morning to the chaos of the train grinding to a halt with one huge whoosh of smoke at one of the main stations and all the porters or the vendors shouting and selling their wares. Enjoyed standing by the door and taking in the morning breeze when the train started again. I also would make it a point in all my train journeys to get out of my 2 tier AC and take a walk across the compartments. I would then just stand by the doorways there for the course of one whole CD and steal a glimpse in the life of a set of people whose lives didn’t frequent mine. It grounded me.
Told myself that need to take a train trip soon. No particular reason but to just savour the air and the sound of the ever familiar chug of the train.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Maid Servant
She enters wordlessly
Eyes on the floor
Straight to the kitchen
Knife in hand
She slaughters the vegetables.
‘My husband’s hand
his legs and body ….
There, he’s chopped to bits!’
She smiles inwardly.
‘Now I’ll boil him
Fry him, burn him’
Cooking is done
She goes to the bathroom
Fills the tub with warm water
Adds detergent.
‘This acid is corrosive
But nothing’s too strong for my vile mother-in-law.
And I’ve pushed her in
Cry for mercy, you witch!’
She bands the clothes against the rock
Strangles each garment, one by one
Washing is done.
She enters her home wordlessly
Her hatred and anger
Hidden by fear and submission
Provoking yet another thrashing from her husband
Harsh words and beating from mother-in-law
She cooks and clears up;
Dies yet again
Waiting to kill once more ….
Another day is done.
Eyes on the floor
Straight to the kitchen
Knife in hand
She slaughters the vegetables.
‘My husband’s hand
his legs and body ….
There, he’s chopped to bits!’
She smiles inwardly.
‘Now I’ll boil him
Fry him, burn him’
Cooking is done
She goes to the bathroom
Fills the tub with warm water
Adds detergent.
‘This acid is corrosive
But nothing’s too strong for my vile mother-in-law.
And I’ve pushed her in
Cry for mercy, you witch!’
She bands the clothes against the rock
Strangles each garment, one by one
Washing is done.
She enters her home wordlessly
Her hatred and anger
Hidden by fear and submission
Provoking yet another thrashing from her husband
Harsh words and beating from mother-in-law
She cooks and clears up;
Dies yet again
Waiting to kill once more ….
Another day is done.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Addiction
In random order
- One true moment of connection
- Intellectual assets
- Seducing the unattainable
- Speed & Heights
- Foreplay of the mind [to start off with]
- Beautiful dawn
- Chaotic stability
- Uncontaminated mind
- Experimentation
- Hugs
- Sushi & Fuchka [latter bong for panipuri]
- I am profoundly attracted to images and words. The first time I discovered reality is when I began writing. I established an extension of myself.
Momentary Lapse of Reason
As I sit down to write this I am bare. Regrets? No I don’t have any. Most of my adult life I have led my life the way I wanted. In that trail, I have lost my family, a lot of friends but I still carried on. Till now barring just one exception where I went against my better judgement I have always stood by my decisions. But that one stride left me devoid. I’ve ceased to believe…. in sense, in justice, in life. I want the end to come soon.
Where did it go astray? Someone whom I hold to high esteem segregated love in Small and Big. To quote him, “Small Love began with all the promise of a Big Love but it traced the mediocre path of relationship, engagement, marriage, kids, and so on, and at every step extinguishing the flame of love and settling down to an arrangement ordered compromise, a trade-in, whereas, Big Love remained perpetually big on euphoria, discovery and erotica. It never settled down in comfort. It never labeled itself and it was never was predictable. Importantly, it was incomplete, and big. A perpetual nagging longing that was capable of both profound hurt and unbridled happiness.” [Before I go any further, I have to say he so poignantly articulated what I had just devised in one unknown corner of my mind-thanks!]
To come back to my thoughts, I thought ours was big but then I was mistaken. It was of the former variant. Real love is total. It’s like life or death. Like you know you are going to die when you’re apart, because the need is so pure, so complete. It’s what I undergo.
Realised, notwithstanding my rebellious nature, I still covet stability. I was happy in my aloneness. Told you, “If you fell in love with me, you would be lighting a candle in a room full of lights”. You still barged in. I pedalled away as fast as I could as if I were escaping from longing, from innocence, from love, from all that made me smile knowing that it wasn’t going to last. To be true, you treated me like a woman. Till then I was just one of the guys in the gang and never thought these things would have mattered. But I guess it did. And that was the beginning of my first mislaid pace.
Dreams which I had only reflected on were coming to life. I gave it a go. What I didn’t bargain for is the hook, line and sinker routine. You reeled me in and then spurt me out. But that was not what we promised when we embarked. We said this would be for keeps. Well that wasn’t to be.
Instead I was in a darker place of nothingness. It was where I started from just with the difference of yet more excruciating reminiscences. As if I didn’t have my share of aches. I wanted to be alone when I am dead. People fear death. They don’t want to face it alone. But we are still alone. It’s just nicer to be alone together. Platitudes are harder to bear. You killed my joy.
Where did it go astray? Someone whom I hold to high esteem segregated love in Small and Big. To quote him, “Small Love began with all the promise of a Big Love but it traced the mediocre path of relationship, engagement, marriage, kids, and so on, and at every step extinguishing the flame of love and settling down to an arrangement ordered compromise, a trade-in, whereas, Big Love remained perpetually big on euphoria, discovery and erotica. It never settled down in comfort. It never labeled itself and it was never was predictable. Importantly, it was incomplete, and big. A perpetual nagging longing that was capable of both profound hurt and unbridled happiness.” [Before I go any further, I have to say he so poignantly articulated what I had just devised in one unknown corner of my mind-thanks!]
To come back to my thoughts, I thought ours was big but then I was mistaken. It was of the former variant. Real love is total. It’s like life or death. Like you know you are going to die when you’re apart, because the need is so pure, so complete. It’s what I undergo.
Realised, notwithstanding my rebellious nature, I still covet stability. I was happy in my aloneness. Told you, “If you fell in love with me, you would be lighting a candle in a room full of lights”. You still barged in. I pedalled away as fast as I could as if I were escaping from longing, from innocence, from love, from all that made me smile knowing that it wasn’t going to last. To be true, you treated me like a woman. Till then I was just one of the guys in the gang and never thought these things would have mattered. But I guess it did. And that was the beginning of my first mislaid pace.
Dreams which I had only reflected on were coming to life. I gave it a go. What I didn’t bargain for is the hook, line and sinker routine. You reeled me in and then spurt me out. But that was not what we promised when we embarked. We said this would be for keeps. Well that wasn’t to be.
Instead I was in a darker place of nothingness. It was where I started from just with the difference of yet more excruciating reminiscences. As if I didn’t have my share of aches. I wanted to be alone when I am dead. People fear death. They don’t want to face it alone. But we are still alone. It’s just nicer to be alone together. Platitudes are harder to bear. You killed my joy.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Conquering sedation
Opening my eyes every morning has become a task. I ask myself do I have to? The answer bellows, pressed by the modern day necessity of having to sustain. But what is sustenance? The more pertinent question would be, to what end? Are we living for ourselves or are we just filling in the blanks? Is normalcy putting a patch on your wound and moving on? Is that what living is?
The alarm breaks my train of thought and I am reminded of the minutes ticking. Unenthusiastically I feel myself getting up, though I see my soul still curling under the comforter. And then it strikes me, lately I have been sleep walking through my life. In the midst of all the rush/chaos in life, we leave our souls behind. We need to walk slowly so that they can catch up with us. For what? Everything that seems pointless?
Depression is engulfing me and I feel like a disease whose own unhappiness is marring other’s enjoyment. When asked how the great US depression started, Ernest Hemmingway said “Gradually, then suddenly”. When is that going to happen to me?
I have been trying to feel the numbness. I want to be deprived of my tears. I want my eyes to be empty of everything, just like me, nothing but a destroyed face.
The alarm breaks my train of thought and I am reminded of the minutes ticking. Unenthusiastically I feel myself getting up, though I see my soul still curling under the comforter. And then it strikes me, lately I have been sleep walking through my life. In the midst of all the rush/chaos in life, we leave our souls behind. We need to walk slowly so that they can catch up with us. For what? Everything that seems pointless?
Depression is engulfing me and I feel like a disease whose own unhappiness is marring other’s enjoyment. When asked how the great US depression started, Ernest Hemmingway said “Gradually, then suddenly”. When is that going to happen to me?
I have been trying to feel the numbness. I want to be deprived of my tears. I want my eyes to be empty of everything, just like me, nothing but a destroyed face.
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