Ruins

How irritating it was to see 'her' doing things so tirelessly throughout the day. Rajesh would howl,' where do you keep my office files? They just decide to vanish when your magical hands touch them'. 'She' would decide to overlook it and try to make Sia eat her breakfast, another round of rude attacks would follow. ' why are you after my life? Don't you have anything else to do in life'.  Souvik would be polite,' Mommy dear, I cannot eat this food. You know my instructor has asked me to eat in olive oil and not in refined oil'. 'She' would pack the food and give it to the maid.

At 28 as Sia saw the old albums and found beautiful picture of 'her'. she could make out whose reflection she was. She saw one of those pictures of her fourth birthday in which she could see a slightly bulged abdomen. She was expecting Souvik that time; yet called all the kids for birthday celebrations.

Coming back from the hindsight, as Sia saw the frail fifty two year old gait, her heart was filled with remorse. Within the wrinkles, she was trying to find that beautiful face of the old album. She looked herself into the mirror hoping to see her mother. Sia was nowhere close to that. There could have been various faces between what Sia was and what was there in that old album. Each line telling the story of the debt Sia took from her mother and was unable to return in these years.

As she boarded the flight, the sight refused to go off her mind. She would remember how things changed for her. How she switched from visiting home from ten days in a month to ten days in an year. Life changed. How she would gave an extempore on self dependence and freedom and like a coward could not give away her own dependedce on those 'pillars' of her life. Probably she thought they would stay there forever and in the meanwhile she could experiment with life.

Now when she sees the pillars weakening, she misses focussing on the nuances of life. She wishes if she could have seen the mico and not macro. She wished she could have learnt 'mathematics' from her mathematician father.

Ten reasons why I love my female friends

1. They make me feel like human beings and I don’t have to care if my cleavage is showing up or my shorts are too short. They would look at it with sense of appreciation and there is no constant warning bell within the heart.
2. They would care about the little things which matter like you need to put one more coating on your nail paint. Grow your nails and then put that off red color which matches so well with your new sweater.
3.  I can do that wild and mad dancing with them. I don’t have to bother if I am looking pretty, sexy and extra nice. I can shed those feminine discomforts for a while.
4. We understand that we are PMSing and would not entertain nonsense but give nonsense.
5. The bitching session about men would be never ending with examples from diverse experiences and we could do it so well that we can actually write a research paper on Man’s Psychology when it comes to dating woman.  They all are feminist when there is no man around. Some of them would bash men the way none could have imagined them to do. The others are just so mesmerized by their identity that for them men would be just a means to reach their better selves.
6. During those cathartic moments after boozing, I can hold them tight and remain in the present moment without fearing ,'oh! I don’t want a relationship.' They would not remind me the next morning that what all I said and why don’t I stand by them today.
7. Shopping is something I can do only with them. Those long incessant hours of roaming and hopping from one place to another. Where else I would get all the patience and love for details? That red which we looked for those four hours on Sunday and came back empty handed.  It’s expensive but let’s just try it out; it’s not in the budget, so what you might not get this piece again.
8. We would lie to each other and would understand why we are doing that. We won’t cut each other’s heart to understand that why? We would be jealous of each other yet it won’t stop us from loving each other. We would understand and forgive.
9. That extra protection and set of instructions when you start hanging around with a new guy is something which only your female friends can give and it’s priceless. 
10. They set the expectations right. I know they would not die for me and they have zillion things to do in their lives other than focusing on me. I know that they might change drastically when they find the right man in their lives but till then they would create that healthy emotional ecosystem around me. They give me strength to move on in life and not the dependence to hang around with till I die. 

The burning water

Have you ever trusted the waves of the sea?
the anger within them, the burning fire in water which promises to ruin the tired you. The adrenaline rush which it fills you with a splash, that roaring sound which dissolves you and you feel that you are sea yourself. You bask in the glory of being the mighty. The yesteryear minscule you becomes grand for the moment. Thank you sea.

My experiments in quarter life crisis

There was this sudden disturbance for which I could not find out a reason. After conversations with people who were going through the similar phaseI realized that I have also been hit by 'quarter life crisis'. It started around 25 and became quite unbearable . I read alot on the subject. The best thing I came to know about it is that it helps you to build a strong foundation for your life if you sail through it succesfully and you are least likely to experience mid-life crisis. I just thought of sharing some adaptation tricks I have devised. They still need some more time to yield results but the effort is making me positive each day.

1. I never wanted to work in such office.

After slogging for years and taking huge loans for the studies, you finally land up with your 'dream job'. You did lot of reasearch in your initial years, fought with your parents to do what you really wanted to do and here you are questioning the relevance of it at this point of time. It's a dream come true yet deep down you ask yourself, 'Is this what I really wanted?' 

It's ok. Finally you are here. Stop looking into the past and  thinking what you could have done instead. Set some short term goals in your work life. You may not have an idea what you want to do ten years down the line in life but you might have answers like I want to smile genuinely more often when I am in a meeting, speak from the bottom of my heart on the subject or be more engrossed in what I do. Build up on these. It helps. Rememebr 'Rome was not built in a day'.

Don't think of quitting the job. There must be something good  about it that you chose it at the first place. Please don't overstretch your working hours. It does not help anyone. Go home. Spend time doing something which you really love.

2. Where is my love?

It hurts I know. You are on the wrong side of 20s and you do not know where your soul mate is. You were always the kind of person who wanted to live all phases of life with that one person.You found that person also but the person found his/her soulmate in someone else.  Bollywood sets wrong expectations. True unconditional effortless love exists but for the lucky few. Make peace with it. Try being with people who you think understand you and appreciate you for little things. There is nothing good as healthy flirting but beware of those obnoxious flirts who make you feel  choked. No negatives please! You don't have to chase that someone who is just not intersted in you. You are making yourself pathetic by chasing them.  Every lock has a key or may be your key is lost in the universe. In that case, you might end up being single forever. It's not a big deal. Give a whack to people who pity you for being single. Love yourself all the more when you feel dejected and lonely and how do you love yourself? Eat well, work on your fitness level, develop a style of your own which may not be the latest fashion but you are very comfortable in it, cook for yourself during weekends, have a cup of coffee and long conversations with people who you enjoy with. You need people for reflection and not necessarily affection. You deserve love. Rememeber ,'Beloved is within'. One best thing about it is the more you love yourself, the more the universe would love you. Sounds preachy. It works.

3. Friends; they have changed

You thought your college friends are your forever friends. You try talking to them and they don't understand what you are talking about. They have differnt lives. You cease to be siamese twins. Life has moved on. Your directions have changed. It does not mean they don't love you. Cherish the time you have spent together. Keep your expectations low. Drop an email or make a call on birthdays and remember the good old days. Relate to them; that's what friends are for.  Feel lucky to have spent some good time with them. They have a contribution in shaping up your identity. Forgive them if they are not able to be the way they were once. 

3. Parents; can't they leave me alone?

They irritate you. They want you to settle down and if you are a girl, life is hell. I know. Talk to your parents. Tell them you are clearing some mess in your life and you need their support on this. Don't experss your anger infront of them. Never argue. Stiop blaming them. They are living their lives and as a child you are an integral part of their lives. Be thankful to them. Take them out for a shopping/movie. Sit with them and talk to them on general subjects. (their health, realatives or may be see the old albums). Learn new recipes from your mother. Try speaking to your grandparents more often, if you are lucky to have them till now. Listen to those piece of advice. Believe me it's a treasure. Since, I have lost my grandfather recently, I still regret not spending lot of time with him which I could have. 

4. Siblings; where did they come from?

So your siblings are very differnt from you in everything now and you don't like to speak to them often. You earn more than them and hang around with differnt kind of people altogether. It happens. You can keep the differnces aside and talk on the common things. Take out the younger ones for shopping. Play those childhood games once in a while to refresh your bondings. Plan a surprise for your parents together. Remember, they are the first friends god gifted you. This treasure can never be replaced. 

5. Listening to that godfather's advice?

We all find some people really impressive and look forward to have an identity similar to them. We start believing in everything they say but do you realize what damage this person is unkowingly capable of inflicting on you. You change the trajectory of life. You live it their way and not your way. Beware of this. Apply your head. Your life's aim is not success in a conventional way, it's something very personal. Listen to people but you don't need to follow everything they say. What all matters is a drop of sweat after hard work and that million dollar smile you crave for. You get it in your own way and may be not their way. For you, it could be just a running session in the morning or dancing incessantly till morning, for them it could be solving complex sudoku for hours. Get rid of godfather.

Oflate I am trying these and it is making me really happy. I would continue adding to the list. I am sure I would sail through like I have always. Happy sailing to you too. 

Oscillating pangs(Part 2)

They say the world stops,

For me it moves,

Against the inertia,

Slower and gradual,

With the connecting dots

Line or a full stop?

Oscillating Pangs

When I play with the strings,

Never does it whisper in your heart?

The beats together, forming the circular rings,

hoping to reach your centermost part.

For me it happens always, that I tinker with my ways

to reach the lighter you.

Seeing you virtually, with the ‘green’ light,

I often laugh at my plight.

Didn’t you get that sudden pang,

When the telephone bell suddenly rang,

Hoping to hear the softer you,

With the possibility to see the real you.

The hopes ended in vain and the pain oscisllating again!!

Let’s end the mind game of ‘red’ and ‘green’

Let me remember the days when you were not so mean,

I wonder if it is just my wish list

Would my desires will always be covered in this thick mist?

Random Echoes

It's intersting to see how nature favours assosciation of things to create innovations.This happens in two ways;when the old sheds and when union happens.

Alchemy is so amusing. The search for gold, the coversions for something better. It's evolution into chemistry which made us believe in amalgamations to form something new. The same happens when insects moult to form a novel life form or a pre-step to that, egg to cocoon to larva to butterfly. The beautiful change, the shedding of the old to meet the exhilerating experience which life offers at each stage. How nervous larva must be inside the cocoon. The foetus who otherwise was silently laying in the womb would have such a harsh encounter with the stimulus of light falling on the pupil. How much pain must have been endured in leaving the old and meeting the new.

I wonder why god has been so biased in this change process. I have no memory of light falling on my pupil  but it excites me to see the new born's reaction when it happens. How my identity would have been as an egg who was quitely sitting in the uterus or may be as a sperm who never knew that it would survive to contribute to a newer identity. It amuses me how I am sum total of all the randomness that happened in creation of my identity. I have no memory of these random encounters though but I try hard to understand it even at the cost of proving myself a fool. Well, do I care but conditioned thoughts make me think that I care but I still know I don't care.Oflate caring for larger masses have been such a utopian philanthropic thought for me and I am fed up of all philanthropies. Why god decided to make me forget all these random experiences but wished that I remember some of them? I would never ever forget the ugliest feeling I had to see the travails of my grandparents in old age. How can I ever forget my public humiliation as a kid when I would come last at 100 m race. Why can't I forget the ugliness of my assosciation with some people. Why  god wants me to get a vicarious experience in certain aspects and the first hand in some? 

In both the cases, I moulted to become something new. The transitions have been tough but the sail has been adventuraous. Tlhe pleasant and the unpleasant, both have contributed to my 'I' at this point of time. I am glad that I am not a monolith and I wonder how confidently and how long I wiill be using this 'I'.

The Truth Beckons

I came back with the wrenched heart with so many philosophical questions. When I first read about Gautam Buddha’s tryst with philosophy on witnessing the travails of old age, the understanding could not permeate me. As they say examples are better than precept and I add they are bitter than precept, especially when you see it in real life.

I took a train to Kashi to meet him. He was my first encounter in life to strength, power and authority. Everybody was scared of him. He stood like a banyan tree giving shades to all of us. There had been complaints that he could never see anyone above him but I reject them as small weeds in his shade. I love to have pillars around me. I love holding them dance around them, the way I did as a kid. You grow up and you are suddenly thrown in this sea where you keep swimming. Those pillars become hindsight. The heart is relieved to let the fleeting memories get washed away with time but the scar which entrenches in the personality constantly reminds of the aches. His seventy five years old frame of 71 inches lying on the dilapidated bed, the orangish yellow eye opened as I touched his feet. He smiled and to me that moment meant the world. I could not control the sudden rush of salty liquid from my eyes. Yet I managed to hide it somehow. I wanted to hug him and cry my heart out. It was my pillar falling infront of my eyes and I was helpless. The first encounter of strength in my life is my latest rendezvous with the fragility and weakness. I could not see the coin reversing. He tried being as normal as he could but I felt his pain in my heart, soul and mind and my eyes were refusing to obey my brain. He kept smiling and slept.

His frame is still so formidable. In this frailty, he commands that respect which none other in that room can ever; the way he did in his youth, when he would jump from the boat in the mid of Ganges just because his instinct would ask him to swim the other half of the river. Now also, he was ordering everybody about how he should be fed and how his pillow is supposed to be kept. The love for his empire could not take a back seat even now. He had been sorting out all the matters related to money in that one stroke of pen and whisper.

I know what Buddha must have felt that moment when he questioned the beauty of life while seeing the senescence. It’s Karna’s lines from Mahabharata which reverberates inside my head, I see it now, this world is swiftly passing.

P.S. This post is dedicated to my grandfather who passed away thirteen days after I wrote this post. Incidentally it was my birthday that day and it ceases to be happy ever.

Diary of a Technically Retarded

I like coming back to catharsis to think aloud, when I get really pressurised and choked to behave in a certain way and guard my feelings in the shell. I like it here because I am not moderated.

I have been feeling quite frustrated with the technology of late. Well that has been the case since the very begining of my life. When I was two and a half, I peed on the speaker of a music system because I wanted it to shut up and it refused to.  I feel glad to declare myself a technically retarded person at 27 when I see half of tech savvy  friends glued to their laptops all the time. Nevertheless I must confess that I too at some level is so mesmerised by technology that I dont prefer to write on paper anymore. I am so much addicted to my laptop. It hurts me deep down when I rely on services of things which 'technically' I detest but we all fall for convenience at one level or the another. What a pity!

My childhood remains special to me for number of reasons. I was brought up in a close knit community of uncle and aunts who constituted our neighborhood. Well, they were not my relatives, my parents chose their friends wisely. That is why the bonding was so natural and nothing came as an effort but out of spontaneity. Whenever my father introduced me to someone, he would make sure that I know something special about that person. This gave me a choice to reject or accept the social capital which he offered to me in legacy. The simple things which my  mother did; inviting neighbors to home for dinner atleast twice in a month, the card games happening throughoout the night at our home, the movie sessions where whole community would go in a mini bus to watch it, just because they wanted to do things together. There was never a dearth of people around me. Uncle, aunts, bhaiyas, didis. I dont remember anyone who was younger to me. Whenever I go home my parents still give me updates on whereabouts of their friends. He has his friends who are there with him for past forty years.This is when people of his generation prefer to restrict their internet uses for professional reasons most of the time. I find the fact amusing.

Here I come back to my life. My social capital of 27 years. The fleeting one. My parents friends' kids who I was supposed to be friends with. Frankly speaking I have been unable to keep them for this long. We know each other, meet when required but definetly would not like to hang around with each other, the way our parents did. Then came the teenage when I started exercisng some choices to decide on my social capital. Those intermittent crushes who were like candies to the eye in school. Like lot many, even I would make an attempt to get closer to them. No social networking site existed then, so it was a physical attempt to stand and wait at a point where you can actually meet rather see him.Those rambles with the female friends where we would discuss endlessly about everything happening in our lives, from guys to extra curricular activities to studies. Our bicycle  rides in the evening for which we could die for, the badminton sessions, the number of durga pujas and many more. We all wanted to be together for these moments. We valued the moments and the ineveitability of each other in creating them.In my 20s, I had a new vision for my life, I met so many good people who were never very comforting but would help me in unleashing a new dimension in my life. I guess my heart took a back seat.

Every morning, I open my facebook account to wish people on their birthdays and aniversaries. It's just once in a year that I have to do this ritual. I don't care if they exist otherwise for rest part of the year. I would not have even wished them on their birthdays, if facebook would not have flashed it. Recently, I saw a flurry of b'day wishes  on the facebook wall of an acquaintance who passed away last year. I bothered to visit her wall and saw the number of condolence messages which made me write something to stop people wishing her who probably were unaware about it. As a follow up, I received lot of querries on my fb inbox about how her death happened. They all claimed to be her friends. I always was her acquaintance and told them how clueless I am. Irony is that her 'friends' were asking accquaintances about the details. All I rememeberd of that acquaintance was her beautiful smile and was deeply saddened at her untimely death.  I have close to 550 friends in my list yet I dont even feel connected to them at any level. This includes all of my socialcapital.

Every evening I come back from office, my only friends are the dinner cooked by me, workout and a novel. This is the point where I have brought down my expectation level too. Emotions are no longer the driving force. In the quest of financial capital, we have probably changed the identity of our social capital. It hurts me  but I am happy till the time I become 'numb'.

Monologue

Have you ever felt that your pillow should have arms?  I hugged it for long. We both were wet with the salty liquid, consoling each other. My heart whispered what a pity; the fellow does not have hands to hug me. The pillow whispered, ‘Thank god I do not have hands or else I would have always craved to hug someone.’

Gangs of Wasseypur

I am not a movie buff who would be writing a review of the movie but sometimes there are reasons or rather 'emotions' compelling enough to do things which one has never done before. It was only when I read enough number of status messages on Facebook that I decided to research on what 'Gangs of Wasseypur' is all about. My interest in the movie rose exponentially as I uncovered the layers.

 I have spend first fifteen years of my life in the coal belt of Jharkhand. This belt which was like a black hole for the rest of the world during 1990s . The nearest town which one could  find in the map of government of India was Hazaribagh, which was still 20 km from my home. The collieries would just have residential colonies with basic minimal amenities and mines. Many a times we would see crack in our boundaries of our house when blasting in the opencast mining took place. My father had a tough life.We too had a tough life but we never felt it because of the way we were shielded from all external influences. We had a defined territory to play and specific people to talk to.We would never mingle with the masses.There were no STD phones. Father's wireless would start beeping at 6 in the morning when production reports would come from the mines. The number of lines in his forehead would be directly proportional to the amount of coal lost in the theft which would mean decreased production for the day. I remember once he had an altercation with a local goon. The next day the goon was at our gate hurling abuses at my dad and also threatened to kidnap him. The security stopped him somehow.  I was into tears, scared to the core. This was when I was twelve. At sixteen, my father decided that I should pack my bags and leave the life in the coal belt. I left home for good. Father's life continued there.

Gangs of Wasseypur seemed like a repeat telecast of lot of scenes which I witnessed directly or indirectly during my childhood. Watching the movie in Jharia Raniganj belt added to the excitement.  The dialogues and the locations seemed like a deja vu. I was happy to see Dhanbad opencast mining and underground mining being captured so well and the abuses used in the movie are so much part of the language used in the region. My female friends warned me but I enjoyed each of the dialogues . More so because, it is so much imbibed into the language of the region that it is no more considered an abuse. People just do some permutation and combination with the abusive words to create a new one and if you can do so well, you are considered very smart. It is a symbol of heroism too.The plot of the movie seemed weak. In the first hour, the chronology of coal theft discussed gave an impression that the movie is about how the power equation on the monopoly of coal that has changed over the years. However as it progressed, it lost the grip and slipped into something entirely different. Despite this weakness, the characters have been well crafted and actors did justice to their roles. Manoj Bajpayee  is brilliant and is effortlessly excellent. The best part of the movie is the direction.  The scenes and the dialogues have done wonders. The accent has been well picked up by all the actors and it feels as if Anurag Kashyap has actually found them in  Dhanbad I bow to Sneha Khanwalkar for the composing the music. When I listened to the songs first, I could never imagine that they have been composed by a female.A true feminist indeed! The songs have such strong rustic touch and a style popular amongst the male folks. Music is exact replica of the folk songs which one can hear in the region during Holi and other festivals.I had an opportunity to record these songs this Holi when the bhaang ridden crowd came to our house with their dholak and refused to budge without getting appreciation from my father.I just wish that story line would have been stronger. I expect that the sequel, adresses these gaps.That would make the movie holistic. The one good reason for which Anurag Kashyap needs an applaud is selection of subject of the movie. Gangs of Wasseypur has definetly given recognition to the region which was an important undiscovered territory for ages. The region has long been non-existent for the sophisticated urban crowd whose energy needs are met from coal coming from Jharia Raniganj coal belt. 

While I was coming back home after the movie, I saw these lean men on bicycle carrying tonnes of weight. I asked the driver that why are they carrying so much weight. He told me, Koyla chor hain saare. Kaafi kamai ho jaati hai bechne se. I smiled and rolled down the window to see the beauty of hinterland. A group of young boys stared at me as if I am an alien. Wearing sunglasses is still not cosidered the necessity in the region, it is a fashion statement. In the local language, bahut style maara jaa raha hai. I quickly pulled the windows up. It flashed in my head that one of them must be Sardar Khan, Faisal Khan or Danish Khan. They have been flourishing in the region for years. I reached home and in all my excitement started narrating the story or rather scenes to father. He seemed disinterested and his looks told me, tell me something new. I have been seeing this for forty years now.

My vacation would end soon and I would be packing bags again for better leaving behind the memories of childhood. Not that I want to relive them. A glimpse of that as a child was scary, watching the movie on it was fun but living the life in the coal belt is out of question. I would continue to see it through father's eyes. 

Conundrum

In that agression, the renaissance man never knew what he did to me.

 For I knew deep down, with each stroke of brush I was turning prettier, identifying the subtle shades within me. The mesmerising painting, his brush and colours flowing within me. We were engrossed in each other.It seems like a never ending journey.The best symbiosis we could ever experience.

I showed the painting to mirror today. The mirror smiled . Oh! wait it was me who smiled :) .The mirror laughed at me and I blushed. This euphoria confuses him. He would be a painter forever without knowing the reason ever.

we laughed at his fate, both the mirror and me. The Renaissance man would have the renaissance after he finishes but he would finish only when I get finshed. He is fatigued, tired..mesmerised by colours, he is starting again. The colours oozing out of me fervently..the one he has never seen before..painting was his fate...and I am at bliss, I am the painting.

Refuse

How to keep a heavy heart, with the ego intact,

and every time I tried, my pieces fell apart,
the pieces in different hands,
dazzling like the particles in the sand

At the abyss of my consciousness,
I knew I could do it someday.
the pieces joined; falling and not breaking

Thus, when I grew up,
I was meant to weigh heavier,
in the body, soul and heart.

Au revoir

As I sailed off-shore, I waved good bye to them.
I saw them in tears, and drank mine too.
Our oceans different, we would never connect

Inside the veil, I was drifting with them,

The illusionary figures in the vicinity,

pulling me farther away from the reality.

They swam with me for a distance,

those angels seemed in transition,

we needed resistance,

Proximity was against my volition.

With each stroke, the figures became vivid

The masterpiece created, the untimely art,

gifting so much sorrow to the heart.

The figures were so surreal,

To escape from the art was a demand so unreal.

The Unwanted Capital

Indians rely on their social capital. We take pride in remembering our family history, father, forefather etc and thus we have this multiple branches of first cousins, second cousins and nth cousins. Well to me it sounds like some river dividing into distributaries. If one comes from a small town in India, it’s the family first you trust and then friends. Family in this context would encapsulate all those distant cousins and relatives, who you get as your social capital in legacy. If you don’t maintain these relations, you fall. These are the people who are there with you in your thick and thin. All that is good until, it strikes you where it hurts the most. What I intend to discuss here is incest, the forced incest.

 For a girl it’s not during the onset of menstrual cycle that she comes to know for the first time that she is a woman which would probably mean following certain rules related to her sexuality. In some cases the ‘stronger’ sex makes them realize the fact at the tender age of five or six. Avuncular love costs them their childhood. Especially in the case of joint families where kids don’t get enough attention due to paucity of time and children grow up in a small community of uncle, aunts, grandparents and cousins. A pedophile might be one of them, living as a parasite in your household without you having inkling of what all damages he is capable of inflicting on your little baby.

.

Pic source:http://www.newjustice.net/blog/2012/03/09/international-online-pedophile-network-busted-by-authorities/

I still remember going for a wedding where a ten year old happy girl would suddenly become lifeless when she would see her forty year old maternal uncle. To my surprise, she would come to me and ask me to take my dupatta properly so that my cleavage remains unshown. I was taken aback. I just giggled and asked her where did she learn all that from? I could not sense the fear in the child’s behavior then. Years later the girl as an adult revealed that the maternal uncle tried to feel her 'non-existent' breast. I was furious. I wanted to behead that man right away. Thankfully, he was dead by then. When I saw Monsoon Wedding for the first time, it echoed the same emotion. I feel thankful to Mira Nair for bringing out this issue so upfront

The Demise of God

The death of Krishna is disturbing. Krishna, who had been my reason to believe in Hinduism, dies too at the end. As I finished another interpretation of Mahabharata for the third time, my heart is filled with agony. My belief in Krishna made me feel that I can have a niche in the religion. I can be somewhere between a staunch fundamentalist and intolerant secularist. I cannot be atheist. Somehow, I always managed to escape the death of the super hero in the earlier versions but this time my heart is filled with grief after reading about his death in detail. Krishna, the strategist dies the meanest death possible in the history. He dies like a commoner when the arrow of the hunter hits him. Unlike Duryodhana’s and Karna’s death, when petals fell from the sky on their bodies, Krishna dies an unknown death; his offence being breaching dharma at various points and here I was illusioned to believe that Krishna is the super hero of the history. As a ritual of my life, I visited the Krishna today; I looked into his eyes and asked him, ‘Are you here?’ I am deeply hurt to know that Krishna was mortal too. There is a sense of emptiness, too personal to explain in words. At Krishna’s death it’s Karna’ lines which give me some sense of relief, I see it now: this world is swiftly passing. Ironically, I know deep down that when I would be reading Mahabharata for the nth time, I would still be asking Krishna for all the support to read about his death. Such is the illusion created by Krishna.

Maddu-The Oblivion

A pleasant reflection,

Shining and sheening,

the divine mirror, giving life a meaning

the ramble began.

The deepening eyes, the inviting soul,

Drowned in them, I forget my role,

The beautiful 'soul', with an angel’s role,

Flashes the smile, and I am speechless for a while,

and the soul was at inflection.

From coarser and hoarser, the 'sorcerer'

flew with it to the wonderland

The asymmetrical curves,

The serpentine journey,

Travelling for a distance

I reach the brewery to begin the 'poetry'.

Poem on 'poem'? I am perplexed.

Dipped and soaked,

Here I am, in the invisibility cloak,

The delirium begins, away from them,

Away from the sane, who pushed me here.

here I am with the insane who loves me here,

I wish to die in the oblivion, Oblivion to the obvious,

I wish to end with the ‘oblivion’.

P.S. The poem is dedicated to my Friend, Philospher and Guide -Madhushree Munsi

Destruction...

The deceptive smile, and my receptive smile, one blow And I die again. I have always enjoyed the consequences of death, the macabre ghastly death which just washes away all acquired in one blow; the imperfections, the negativities and the unsolved. It takes away all, the unwanted and the wanted, and I am left to create again. There is a catch in this. I thought that I was born to acquire again, afresh, the better acquisitions this time. The vicious cycle continued till the time I understood the futility of the process. Acquisition was the byproduct. Understanding futility was something in which I should have been interested in.

The Power of First

It is that old stone I have preserved when I have thrown several of those precious gems in the lake. My leanings in this expedition always ask me to preserve it, the power of first as they say. That optimum perfection which is attained when the mind shuts it’s door and the bond is built up through a single channel. The one stone which my mind says is worthless yet I am stuck to the one, clear the dirt hoping hopelessly that it would turned to one of those gems I threw the other day. What perplexes me is this strange fixation for such a long time and the gems haunt me sometimes making me realize what a fool I have been for all this while. The realization also has a discovery of inner strength which says stone or gem; it’s the first that matter.

Stress!!

The other day I was reading an article on growing stress and anxiety amongst today’s youth. The article defined stress as a situation when all the questions related to different aspects of mind converge together. Pardon me for the trivia but it reminded me of my physics classes in standard 9th when they taught me focus-the point of convergence of all the light rays from an object; the point which made the visibility of object possible. I am discussing it here because I am writing this piece in a stressed state of mind and all the experiences of my life have converged in to bring negative connotation to the word ‘focus’ in my life. For instance, I am stressed because my supervisor has refused to give me the reference letter for my doctoral candidature and I have no clue what to do about it. To escape the stress, I call up a friend, who says when are you getting married? You are already on the wrong side of 20s. To escape this, I disconnect the call.Sinding the possible solution of this answer, I call up the guy who I am in one sided love from quite sometime thinking that subtle romance might help me in coming out of situation. He asks me for my postal address to send his wedding invitation. I get a mild heart attack after managing to congratulate him. My maid calls me up saying that she has broken her leg and she would not come for days. This is a last straw and I completely lose my head. So the point of convergence include stress factors arising due to failure to seek admission in any good university, fear of losing friends in absence of a married relationship status, losing a possible source of emotional security in a month’s time, absence of romance in life for innumerable years, fear of physical stress because of doing all the house hold tasks. I think all of them together and they appear like entangled pieces of thread. I do not know which one to solve first. I am just incapable. I see DARK and close my eyes and tell myself ‘let it go’ but my mind says how you could put your admission in peril? How could you never think of marriage by this age? Why did not you tell him that you liked him? Why the hell you kept the maid at the first place? Why are not you hardy enough to solve all the problems yourself? I am bashed continuously by this force for another fifteen minutes. I take the knife, cut the entangled pieces into millions of pieces. They included my dream too and I destroyed them all in one go.