Renaissance

Dear Bored Reader,

I have been meaning to write something constructive and beautiful for quite some time now. “The drought has lasted long enough”, so said one of my friends. Another acquaintance remarked casually and reminded me of my sabbatical. But I feel helpless right now. The inspiration is just not there. Ideas are lacking and even when they do make an appearance; words find it very tedious to wriggle out of them.

But plunging into the “seas of passion” in search of “wrecks sublime” comes to me in the guise of a compulsion. So just like a mathematician trying to ascertain the reasons and cure of his depression using some abstruse equation; I decided to give my ‘creative poverty’ a run for its money.

The Summer of 2006 was like a dream. The ‘Siddhartha’ in me attained his enlightenment sometime while he was dozing off on his study table. The halo around the Neo-Buddha served its purpose steadfastly for about 4 months. This small period saw an explosion of amazing ideas and tiny grey cells in me. I metamorphosed from an analyzing engineer into a day-dreaming poet. I wrote like a maniac. Loads of stuff. Needless to say, my grades plummeted like a falling meteorite. But as I read somewhere – the juice was worth the squeeze.

The sudden burst of creative inspiration was only aggravated by the fact I spent 6 blissful weeks in the Himalayas. The sight of it all still doesn’t fail to make me nostalgic. I am very certain that the trip helped me evolve in more ways than one. Things that seemed so certain till now, lost ground. Meanwhile, dormant seeds germinated and laid the foundation for radical changes in my thinking. It would only be right to say that a juggernaut has been set into motion. It’s only expected that it will transform a lot of ideals and notions in its wake.

The dream faded into oblivion and so did its repercussions. The old schedule slowly found its way back into my life. The halo which had so faithfully served its purpose; began to flicker and it was not before it went out like a moist fuse. But this time on, there was a longing for all that I was missing. I had begun to see things in a new light and that signified the dawn of a new phase in my thought process.

I questioned my actions and underwent a rigorous self-analysis. Flaws were unearthed and examined with a scalpel in hand. Modalities were discussed in detail and ambitious plans were hatched. But I have a much criticized habit of shelving my time-tables. They continue to grin at me like skeletons in one’s closet. But this time serious effort is being put into scripting an anti-climax. Things are somewhat falling in place. The tower of cards might come down any moment. But there will be the satisfaction of having given it a shot. The very effort has probably changed me. For better or worse, I can not to tell. Maybe you should ask time. It always has some story to tell, some poor soul to ridicule and some unsuspecting audience to bore.

very lovingly yours,
"by whatever name you know me"

What Were You Thinking?

This is what I felt on the 2nd of Jan, 2007 after a ‘sudden’ something happened on a quaint lakhnavi evening. A very personal account of things. So very much possible it is all crap for ya. Just read and you’ll agree!

As a new year dawns the horizon of my life, so do new aspirations, new resolutions, new ambitions and the most important of all, a new hope.

There are several things that keep giving meaning to your existence. You don’t realize how they affect you. It’s amazing. The way these hidden magic moments apparate in front of you like whoosh and rejuvenate you. I smile. I am feeling positively bubbly. At least for some precious minutes I am.

It’s a gargantuan task to pen down my exact feelings for I am ill-equipped for that task. After all, my vocabulary is not that large. But I will try because that is what a writer is meant to do.

Just when I begin to think there are not reasons to make life interesting, something out of the ordinary always happens to make me feel otherwise.

I look back over my shoulder and I see wasted opportunities. But then there are people who have always had faith in me and are proud of all that I am and all that I did achieve in spite of what I consider failures.

There are friends who are like pieces completing the jigsaw puzzle that I am. They inspire me and in some ways I inspire them. They are the ones that keep me going. They make life interesting. They are the ones who continue to have faith in me and will always continue doing so.

There is a lot that’s still left to do and see in this world. And there are a lot of moments that need to be cherished. We must continue trying just to nurture those wonderful moments, if for nothing else.

“It’s foolish to keep harping on the past”, some people say. It might be true or it might not. What is more important is that you keep getting inspired by whatever you have achieved.

One is not successful all the time. Failures will always be there to crush you or make you feel miserable. But then there are people whom you trust blindly, someone whom you love blindly, and friends whom you always rely upon. They are the ones who will keep making you feel special. They will keep you going, no matter what.

So the next time you are down and out, don’t sulk like me. Instead call that pain-in-the-ass friend of yours or the special someone. You will be amazed how the world turns upside down by just talking to them about how miserable things have been. If nothing else works out, read this post of mine and call me up. I promise to sulk with you, if nothing else.

Write to me you dumbo. It always helps. I am not talking about you. I am talking about myself :-)

very lovingly yours,
"by whatever name you know me"

A Journey of Sorts

We have often heard people say that the soul of India resides in the villages. I found that statement to be very true. But my impression is that one can get a feel of this extraordinary country by traveling for a day or two (is that too much?) in a general compartment of Indian Railways. What not can you find there? You get to see every facet of India. Ah Well! The elite class of the millionaires might be conspicuous by their absence. But that doesn’t constitute even a fraction of the population in India. So we will ignore them for the meanwhile. So let’s begin our journey of sorts.

It begins by arriving at the railway station 30-40 minutes before the scheduled departure for you can never depend on the irregularity of the railways. There you might have to make your way through camps which seem to have sprung up all over the platform. Finally, after a lot of shouting and haggling, you find a decent spot on the platform and then begins your ‘not so long’ wait for the lady of your dreams. And just like your girl friend, it arrives in all its glory right when you were about give up in a moment of desperation. Horns Blaring, Lights blazing; it enters its court in regal grandeur.

But the grandeur often doesn’t last long. For there is a stampede, not an exaggeration of course, to get into the unreserved compartments. I will leave the scene to your imagination for I had neither the courage nor the necessity to experience it first hand. I move to a more civilized section which goes by the name of ‘sleeper class’ and is obviously meant for people like me (read people who like to sleep a lot). After a lot of pushing, you get to your berth. If you are lucky enough, then you won’t have to fight to keep your luggage underneath the berths. But if you are not, then God help you. Now is the time to relax after all this hard work. I often get out to get myself a bottle of water and to escape the unbearable heat inside a stationary compartment.

Smiles lighten up the face of the passengers if the train departs according to schedule. They soon occupy themselves with various tasks (read chatting and bothering other people). But the bugging chats are often the most interesting part of a rail journey. One can find people from almost all sections of the society in a general compartment. There are the students, then the huge Indian Middle Class and then come the masses. So naturally the topics of discussion are very varied and range from reservation to superstition. But the best part is that the orator often considers himself to be the master of the subject. He will go to any lengths to emphasize that point. Reason for such a behavior may not be hard to guess and stems from the primal need to gain attention. (I remember reading a story named The Seventh Pullet which emphasized this very point in quite a remarkable fashion).

One can find people carrying their entire household with them. Beddings, quilts, mattresses, utensils withal. Babies cry and disturb peace-loving passengers like myself. Cleanliness may be next to Godliness. But Indians find it hard to resist not providing the railway cleaners with some real hard work. (It is a different matter altogether that the cleaners don’t bother either). One would know when it is the season for groundnuts from the shells decorating the floors. But in spite of all this blab, I may be the next one to dirty the same floor. That is the state of affairs here.

Even associations and friendships are formed in the blink of an eye. People, who hardly knew each other an hour ago, chat away merrily as if two long lost friends have suddenly found bliss in each other’s company. They bid each other teary farewells (not to say that I have not done that) and hope to meet again in some other remarkable journey!

That really is the crux of the matter. We can’t help hating this country for all the shit that it conjures up. But at the same time, we can’t help romancing with it for the same reasons! Maybe the problem lies in us. After all, what is a nation without its people? Just an empty shell. But whatever may be the state of railways or the traffic or the politics, one just can not help adoring this remarkable nation for all that it has given us. It seems to have some paranormal magnetic field which will make the prodigal son return; no matter how much of the world he has seen.

Answers?

What, in your opinion, is love?
And why the hell can't I sleep early even when I want to?
Oh yeah, by the way, I am listening to Sway by Bic Runga for like the 4th time and feeling stupidly insane!

Sand Castles

Success teaches you many lessons. But, so does failure. Bitter Lessons. Lessons which are not learnt very easily and which require all your will power to be put into practice. In the recent past, my will was tested in a similar fashion. I broke down like all mortal weaklings. I tore my hair, I cried in desperation and rebuked anyone who tried to drill some sense into me. But I guess that is how things have a habit of working out.

The angry waves soon ebbed away, leaving wet sand in their wake. Sand which could be moulded into shapes that I desired. This metamorphosis might ot might not bring a marked change in me. Whether it is for better or worse, I don't know. Maybe the castles that I build now will be washed away once again when the tide rises. But at least the satisfaction of having tried will be there to soothe my troubled psyche.

Our inner voice demands several things of us. They are always justified. But we somehow manage to learn to ignore that same voice. Until it becomes so weak and faint that it hardly creates any ripples. That must have been the case with me. But my knee-shattering failure shook me out of my age old slumber. The voice which I had learnt to ignore; spoke with a resounding boom. I bowed to its pervading presence. I realised what I had been ignoring for so long had somehow degraded me as a human being.

Humans are weak. But I had proved myself to be weaker. Lost in my cocoon, I had forgotten that it was the very same whisper which had made me. I was whatever I was because I had been modest enough to pay ttention to whatever it said. Neglecting that friend had only quickened my steps down the staircase of failure. My only hope is that it is not too late already. I am prepared to wait. We'll just have to wait and watch. Wait and watch!

And the G33K shall inherit the Earth

:)