2008: Something to forget....

All the things that you did, or wished to do.
All the things that you remembered, or remembered to forget.
All the things that changed, or changed to change.

I wish I was just a mere drop in the rivulet that fell from high above into the eternity below. To be with you again is my wish and so couldn't I in that year.

In the hope of meeting you starts a new year and year after year I cherish the same new year resolution : to be with you, to walk on our breezy beach, to see the sunset once again.

Melancholy night asked me not to dream, because dreams, she says, are for the ones who has lost hope. But here i am, waiting to see you again as ever as last year and may be the next .......until that day.

Paradox it may be but moment after moment I remember you lest I forget you. And when I meet you I will have stories to tell you.

Oh 2009 , I look forward for you.

My inspiration: a lovely piece of music

Once again...

Sand walls with its air of misty musk welcomed him again.

The gharana hadn’t changed a bit, but there was no resounding voice of khansahib to greet him this time, instead his old mellowed tampura was there. Besides it was a lamp that sometimes flickered by the unannounced gentle breeze that came through the veranda. “Have some chai” tai said in her usual caring tone from behind. She made the best chai he ever had, after every hour khansahib used to call tai for a chai and she, like an obedient wife, would get him one within minutes, whether it be dawn or midnight. Sometime he too used to get a cup. He missed those days…dearly.

Bhoop, Bihagda ,Bhairavi …..khayals, taans ….whatever khansahib taught him flashed like it was yesterday. He missed them, and khansahib loss was something irreparable to him.He didnt know what , but there was void, Just like as if furniture had been taken away from your home. He remembered the first time when his mother forcefully carried him all the way from cricket ground to this courtyard. He detested it and in fact had cursed his mother and khansahib endless time in his mind.

But that was long ago, somewhere in between there was a time when he would even bunk school to be with Khansahib. He still vividly remembered his first live performance, behind khansahib on tempura after his splendid discourse, it was his turn. He started off in purvi raga although there was flattening at the first he thought it went well, until after coming from the concert, when khansahib made him sing the raga for more than 4 hours at a stretch. Somewhere in between, with all those thousand compromises he made with life, Music was also unconditionally left out.

After spending another one hour there he prepared to leave, when tai gave him a present. It was small dilapidated note book. “He wanted you to have it” tai said. It was his music notes, some composition, drupads from his master. He eyes swelled with tears, without saying a goodbye to tai he walked away.It was already getting dark, and from behind, he thought he heard a faint sound of a tampura. He stopped and turned back. Tai waved him good bye.

Reference: Namita Devidayal ,The music room

I will retaliate

This is my country. It is my duty to protect her and yet again I failed. I don’t blame anybody, I don’t blame the politicians, I don’t blame the intelligence and I don’t blame the system. I blame myself. It was my failure to protect her, it was my inability rather it was my complacency that gave away her this time.

But let me assure you, if you are reading this, let the message be clear. I don’t want to see anymore blood stained roads, I don’t want to see anymore charred bodies, I don’t want to see anymore wailing of my mothers and sisters. I don’t want to see all this anymore.
Time for being laid back and switching the channels and consoling myself that it’s not me out there who lost his life is over.

Remember we too are human, the limit of patience that I have is same as yours and its same adrenaline that pumps my temper. Deep down there is something even I don’t like to see. Now, time for you to choose is over and it’s my turn. And If choose, god forbid, that ugly face over diplomacy there won’t be no tomorrow for you.

I promise that.

So stop messing with my nation and get the bloody FUCK out of my country.

Jai Hind!

A dedication

Memories are wonderful things if you don’t have to deal with the past.

Dedicated to my memories......sweet and bitter.

Falling leaves of December,

May I ask if you permit?

While you are not here,

Where ll be the shade I am in.

Falling leaves of December,

May I know where you are going?

In that distant horizon, carried by misty breeze,

Who will be there with me when you are gone?

Falling leaves of December,

Leave me not, for I ll be all alone.

Falling leaves of December,

Leave me not, for there are none but you.

Another mistake....

4 years had passed since we last met.

I was tensed. My heart was pumping in a rhythm that showed the unrest in me, yes I wanted to see her but was unaware how she would take it.

Destiny played it best to avert such a meeting, but somewhere, with a golden pen it was already written and whatever the forces that tried to ebb it away… failed.

In that corridor, in the midst of pain and anguish, I saw her.
In that divine white coat, she was an angel for everybody in pain …..And for me too.

Countless neurons calculated and recalculated the next decision…turn and walk away.

Before by reflexes could get accustomed and agree to it, she saw me.

From the midst of aching and wailing bodies, she waved me to wait, with that ever intriguing smile.

I nodded, even before I could think.
…………………………………………………………….

May she would have come to the end of that long corridor, to find the empty white bench.

Life had many mistakes; I had added one more to it then.

Unanswered...

Someday, yes... , someday I will meet her.

Then too, I will be having the same question as of today.

By then, May be I would be a little slow but surely, I would articulate in a better way.

I would have phrased and rephrased it a thousand times in mind by then,huh…just like what I am doing right now.

And yes, I would have a little hesitation that would be there if she was in front of me right now, right here.

I know it would be late …but then life, as somebody rightfully said, is just memories. Along with myriads of them, this would be just another one.

Every day I get up with a hope that today would be day and every night, before going to sleep I hope it would be tomorrow.

I know what she would say,….. just another lie .

And I know what I would do then…..simply turn around and walk away.

But when I meet her, I need to ask her that.

A Tribute to Tagore

I write about the personal and my alter life in my blog, but this time I simply wanted to put something that i stumbled upon.

Stream of Life

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the lifethrob of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

Hats off to the great poet!!!!!
This is what prompted me :->Here you go

Huh!

I don’t understand many things in life. I don’t learn many things from my life. Moreover I don’t learn from my mistakes. Yet I am complete …but in an incomplete way. I know what is wrong …but sometimes doesn’t see what is right. I see everything …yet I fail to see subtle nothings.

I am just living…but in a utopia. I know the rules ….but a different set govern me. I succeed in most of my endeavors …yet I am hiding. I am here yet running …..To somewhere….to where? I don’t know.

I am in love, I was in love…. and painfully I realized I will be in love forever, because I don’t know what love is. To forget somebody who always comes as mist of remembrance, is it possible? I don’t know, yet I know that I will never know. I don’t where she is or what she is doing, She even doesn’t know my existence yet I love her from bottom of my heart…truly, madly ,deeply.

I am sane but sanity is the very same insanity that drives me. I not crazy, yet acts like no normal. I believe things which others reject as axioms which cannot be substantiated. I am confused, yet what I do is right, People cannot call that luck because fortune never blesses the damned.

I enjoy life, every moment… Yet feels it empty.

I am waiting ….waiting, may be forever…for what? I don’t know.

Cynicistic Paradox

Its 9:40 in the night.16 pairs of eyes were looking at the doorway.
Professor is late . late by 10 min. It not unusual, but a day before independence day and that too in the night for a class that's going to stretch for the next,if unfortunate, one and half hours, it is a close call of limits.

They were not disappointed.

Like a storming wind he barged in . Plugged in the lap top and the show began.

Straight on the board. "If we fail to prove something then Negation of that something is assumed to be true"

"I want you all to analyse this statement and come up with the meaning " . he asked in a low whisper like voice.

He wondered whether it was really a technical course or some course of psychology that he was attending.

"Are the resources introduced into subject of being failed" somebody from the left of him asked.
"What???" his stomach started to roll, what did he mean...

"You are provided with infinite time and space for the quest." He answered while cleaning his black rimmed spectacles.

"What is the idea of being true? I mean how do you judge what is true" .
"Vidyut, truth is the deduction based on the facts" professor said with a wink.

"In the absence of any evidence to the contrary a proposition is assumed to be true".
somebody from the back row shouted.

Bingo! he said with his usual tinker of both index fingers.

"So what does that prove....?"

But sir..." came a low husky kind of voice , with a low confident note from the right corner.

"yes...". professor was getting impatient.

"I think that sentence itself is contradicting"

everybody turned back.
"another nerd" he thought.

"And how it may be .." Prof was curious.
"because if we fail to prove something , for negation of that something to be true ...it should be false for that something." He said with an air of supremacy.

The class dropped into pin drop silence.

The professor just stared into the board. You could hear the ululation of the fan.

Always....

Days, months, years have passed. But like a flashes of a bygone time, she comes to me.
Sometime with her smiles, sometime with her eyes .....and sometimes with those last words.

I try to forget but always remember.


From my window ,I look at the Powai Lake, With a full moon lighting HN at the other horizon and creating a thousand colors in the water , I try to forget her. But she comes again.
"is she the one walking on the other side among those millions that i see as dots running back to their homes."

Mistakes, I believe biggest mistake is the one when you don't realise you have made a mistake.
And the worst suffering , is to live through the life after knowing that mistake.

The silence of the night is singing its soothing lullaby, but i cannot sleep today.
And yet again she is smiling at me.

I wish I knew

Don’t know when I started noticing you.

May be in the lab, between colored liquids that had not so romantic names.

May be during the breaks.. , that were too small for me to know you.May be during the tour, where I had already gone but came for some reason….which still I don’t know.

May be during the hot and stifling examination room with you in my front..

After all these years, I just can’t stop noticing you, even though you told me not to.

In the new unturned pages of new book, where I thought lady in the long frock with white umbrella walking along the rustic road were you…..

While walking through the beach, I so hoped that girl with long curly hair walking far in front of me was you…

Sipping the brewed coffee in the restaurant, those tingling voice with hushed laughter from behind, I thought were yours.

For every door opened, while singing in the karaoke bar, I was anxious to see your gleaming smile.

May be in the time to come I will try stop noticing you around me.

But if you ask me I still don’t know when I started noticing you.

Perception.

You meet somebody and you sketch a character of him.

Sometime in the first meeting you understand him, sometimes... a life time is not enough.

You percieve ,You analyse and you infer.

But you are wrong. your eyes decieve you.

Vision ...a pure chemical logic placed in you just to decieve you.....from being rationale, from being pragmatic, from being right.

You fail....but you dont learn.

And next time, they decieve again.

Reborn~


I love the myth about Phoenix.
Rising from ashes, to undo all the mistakes of previous life.
Moreover its a new life with a purpose that was left incomplete in the previous life.

I can die a thousands times to meet my destiny.

But will I be reborn ?

The answer came in a mail.
I patiently waited for the mail to open. I was expecting it with those heart breaking
news carved in stylish italics. "We are sorry to inform you that your application for MS in Computer science has been declined......"

My eyes scanned for those preconceived lines.I read it twice,....I thought i was hallucinating.

Happiness is not just a word but an elation that words can seldom describe. I realised then.

"We are happy to inform you that your application for MS in computer Science has been accepted....."
I was reborn again,.... from the ashes.

Senility plus one

24 years of life and he looks back, the life seems still the same. In a few years his black hair would get whitened. And sometimes who knows, there might be no hair left at all. Senility is spreading its ugly grin across his innocent face and people mistake it for his maturity.

To an out of rhyme ‘happy birthday to you’, he put off the candles…without making the wish. He already had the dream, now it’s not just a wish. It’s a want. Layers of chocolate paved way to either side as he steadily sunk the cleft knife to down below. Yes everything was moving away for his dream and for the first time he saw clearly what’s going to happen…. Without any haze, without any ambiguity.

Some traditions are never broken. They sustain the test of time and pulls back an era you would never want to forget. GPL , the customary bum kick is one that no birthday celebration in a college can’t do without. But years after the college it stayed with him. He pleaded like an innocent but alas those wails didn’t have any effect on his marauders. Without mercy, they beat and in the end they reasoned it was all love. Yes, love was always painful.

One more year of senility added. Change was happening, but the rate was slow. People around him didn’t see the transformation. But he knew he had changed. His coming years are never going to be the same, never going to be easy. And he didn’t want them easy because if it’s easy what’s the fun. He smiled at himself and in gleeful tone wished him a ‘happy birthday’.

My Third eye.

I wanted to be a troubadour and sing the glory of the memories that snapped passed through my eyes. I want to stop it being just memories. I want to capture them all. And whenever I look them back I should get that vividness when I first saw or felt them.
I try to capture them, and most of the times I end up chasing something that was so near yet so far. On that day, I was half an hour late. I wanted to capture the lake in shades of orange and pale yellow. But I was late… as usual. Watchman said they have closed for day. He said that to me. I pretended not to hear that. I was deaf for second or two. The light was residing fast and I knew after an hour or so even this scenery that imprinted on memory would be washed out. Carving out a memory to bits and bytes is now my new hobby. And when people say I am not that good makes me all the more to copy the nature with my third eye. Theoretically I know everything the rule of the third, the mid tone intensity, the long exposure idea, Multi timing flash – you name it, I would be having it in my head. But when it comes to connect them with my camera, I fail to do the justice.
I go for my kill. The sky is neither orange nor pale yellow as I thought it would be, nor is it a clear blue. Nature has beaten me. But this time I am in no mood to accept the defeat. I start my first shot standing, next one sitting, and the next hanging and so on…until I get the picture I wanted. I check out how my new venture has come up. Bad..or rather I would say “oh my god!!”. I check out how my friend is doing. He got interested in photography after he saw me going through all my theory. He wanted a break from my mouth. His snaps are nice…some are good…really good.
After my dismal failure, I decided to go back. But I know I would come back, because it’s so beautiful and moreover it was very elusive too.
After a week I went back to same place and captured the beauty everybody would love to watch all over again. And this time too, it didn’t fail to get my attention.

A valentine memoir

Friend?, a classification that didn’t fit her. And when, suddenly, the old memories come as a phone call, you panic as if it’s going to change. For a voice that casted the binding spell in my heart, it didn’t require a second to realize it was her.

How did I know it was you? You were always there with me.

Men don’t cry, they say, but for tears that didn’t come then.. didn’t know it was the same me.

And with years and distance apart, for a folly that was once done, I realize she is not in my arms to say ‘I love you’.

PS: I got the idea from poornima's post 'Do you know how long longing can be? '

The paradox.

I started wearing coolers. The dark ones, you know, which covers your eyes completely. I can see everybody but nobody can see me. They don’t see my eyes and eyes tell stories, Stories that I don’t want the world to see.
When they see me, I smile. I want them to happy, we go to places, pull each other’s leg, sometime quarrel and then reconcile. Behind the dark coolers, unknown from them I search her. Just a last glance that’s all I need. They ask me to sing, a line or two from yester years. In sweet remembrance of her smile i sing. They applaud, I smile again. One more they say, I ask which one. The one in which she departs is what they want, for the music that soothes their ears I sing those tearing lyrics. And when the music dies away, they clap again, I say thank you .
While on the beach, everybody is off with their better half. For a moment, that feeling of loneliness creeps to me. I want to be with her, and watch this glorious sunset. Salty sea breeze wakes me gently from my dreamy dream. They are coming back, one by one. I say I do not want to come to beach if the they are going to treat me this way. You don’t need to be alone, they say. They make fun of me for being alone and sitting with another friend, who is a guy, and watch the sunset. I laugh at them, and walk towards the sea to have a game with her. Others follow, we fight, throw each other so that waves can catch us. After much shouts and hooliganism we leave her to rest.
With wet foot covered in sand we watch movie in the hall. I check the seat to my left, there is nobody. I check to my right, there is everybody! Am I in the center? Or am I just left out. They call me, compares me with the hero. The movie doesn’t have a heroin. I smile at them. And when the end comes, I see a tear or two in few. They say it was a good movie. I smile again.