Sunday, January 26, 2014

Equilibrium

The delicate balance of opposing forces. Absolute stability built from the ingredients of instability. All it takes is one breath, one flutter, and everything will come crashing down. Until then, this is the safest state. Suspended, absolutely still. This is as good as it will ever be. And yet it had to come from an assembly of evils, lined up in a way that they balance each other. Until they don't.

So it I lose just one of my demons, will the others all close in and take me down?

If so, stay with me. Stay close. Stay where I can see you.

Stay where you are.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Ah, well...

And, about time... Well, this ought to do it then? This fix anything, yet? Well, come on now! At least, it's about time something shifted there...

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Less is more

There. The exposé. This one’s for you, mister. Though it's hardly what you intended.

There’s something very attractive about terseness. About leaving things unspoken but not quite unsaid. About a vague suggestiveness that could be, yet need not really be. About leaving half-baked thoughts half-said. That is, in fact, the most accurate form of expression.

Of course it’s also easier on the hands to write less. And when writing copious pages there is always the danger of losing oneself in the forest of words, distracting yourself, ending up saying things that might seem quite interesting and eurekaesque, but nevertheless quite far out of range of what you originally intended to say. Short pieces stay well within the field of your central microscopic idea. It builds around it. Long pieces grow out, branch out, move on. More matter, maybe more sense even. But the beauty of expressing one single thought, in just as many words as it really takes to express that one thought. That feels quite right somehow.

It’s all about the mood. Sometimes one wants to think as one writes. Sometimes one wants to write for the sake of it. Sometimes one wants to say just one little thing and move on. To more little things.

It’s probably a phase as well. Perhaps one runs out of wrapping paper having covered everything in sentences, paragraphs and pages for years. Perhaps it’s Zen. Or Nick Drake. Perhaps it’s saving more time for thinking.

Perhaps it’s none of these. Perhaps I don’t have so much to say anymore. Not in so many words, at least. For the time being ;)

Friday, July 16, 2010

Systematic Irreverence

Should pick up and shake everything you find on your path. And make it stand on its head. That's the way. To move through life. Nothing is sacrosanct. But when you set your world spinning like a top, what about the other worlds it collides with and throws off course? Should you disturb those who choose to live the illusion? Turn their lives upside down as well? Ay, there's the rub.

Friday, July 02, 2010

Cuz' I said so...

Perhaps events are predestined, and there are multiple paths to those events. And the semblance of control that we have over our lives lies in the choice of these paths. Would you like it in the head or the chest?

Thursday, July 01, 2010

Worthless

Values are values because of the value one attaches to them. Not because of any intrinsic value. Nothing has any intrinsic value.

Friday, June 11, 2010

And yet...

The more my crust bakes, the more my core crumbles...

Monday, December 14, 2009

Red & Blue

This one has been due a very long time. This is about red and blue, and all the reds and blues that make up the universe, the being and the non-being, everything we can possibly conceive.

You look at a red flower. And you tell me that it’s red. I, of course, understand. I know what red is, I have seen it elsewhere. Let me show you. Here, a red ladybug. You nod. It is red.

What if I see blue where you see red? What if the red I see is the blue that you see? What if, to me, a red rose is the same colour that the blue sky is to you? Of course I will never say that both are the same colour. The sky, to me, is not the same colour as a rose. But you have your frame of reference, and I have mine. And we cannot compare these two frames independent of a third. True, neither the sky nor this rose is the same colour as that tree. The tree is green. And in your mind, my green is called purple.

We will never know. I will compare the blue sky with a blue flower and a red rose with a ladybug. But we will never know. If you and I see the same thing. If you and I even mean the same thing when we agree so completely on something. And perhaps, we will never know, if you and I actually see and feel and mean the same thing when we disagree completely.

My red could be your blue. And we will never know.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Sky

I love the sky. I love cloudy skies, starry skies, blue skies, orange skies… Anything except a dull white sky.

Every culture has this concept of a sky... The absolute zenith. And what is it after all? A roof made of nothingness. Point of exit to space.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Quarterly Review

I was born two weeks later than expected. Just enough to make people wonder, but nothing to worry the doctor. I say, those nine months were the best days of my life. I knew it wasn’t worth it, the world outside. Perhaps babies are indeed wiser than adults. So I prolonged my “vacation” as long as I could before I finally gave in. Couldn’t risk being born on April Fool’s Day after all.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

Writing

I write best when I am desperate, frustrated, messed up and almost dying. Which is a good thing. It’s a very basic sort of paradox if something of substance can come out of such a mess. Not quite recycling, no.. This is some sort of bizarre catalysis. Do writers, poets and artists live in misery of their own making to foster their creativity or do their circumstances make them writers, poets and artists in the first place? Now that’s very pedestrian. If it were, in fact, so simple, then most of the world’s people are in reality brilliant writers, poets and artists just waiting to explode and exude talent. Why is it that the world never gets to be dazzled by their brilliance? Because not everyone lets off steam in the same way. So is that all that it is, after all? Letting off steam. And when the fog clears it leaves behind some sort of wondrous thought provoking creation which suggests extraordinary ability on the part of the creator. Is that the way it is, then?

The quality of writing is perhaps best measured by the effect it produces on the reader. No, not just the magnitude of effect, but the nature of the influence it can have. The slightest hint of a change in thought process is far more powerful than merely provoking disgust, revulsion or anger. Something that can make a person go “Hmmm” and stays in his or her mind, surfacing time and again, realigning the way he or she thinks about something or the other. That’s the power of writing. That’s where writing can result in more than just entertainment, and be more than just words.

More Ramblings on The Night

OK. I have been planning to do some sort of verbal purge, some sort of induced vomiting of the brain, so that I can start thinking clearly, start writing again. Quiet indeed. Great, this is going to be much worse than I ever thought. So do I pick a random topic and start writing? It might just work. Perhaps make way for a few Freudian slips. Which would end up being misconstrued as intentionally casual nuggets of brilliance.

The Night. Wow. That isn’t even new. I already have a blog post on that.

But that doesn’t mean anything. Because what The Night means to me is far more than can ever be expressed in words. To me The Night is… near perfect. The closest to the “right” way of being. Strange, how darkness has always been associated with negativity. Just because you cannot see what lies beyond the darkness, it doesn’t mean that it’s all evil. That all that you cannot understand is negative. But that seems to be the way the world has taken things for granted.

The Night protects. The Night covers. The Night holds. The Night filters out the irrelevant humdrum and incessant drone that accompany The Day. The Night is an exercise in blankness. Emptiness. A healthier state of being than the cluttered pandemonium of The Day. Light and sound are clearer at Night. The Day is an explosion of both light and sound. Light. And Sound. That’s how we perceive almost everything. The more jarring of the five senses. The sixth sense is what you feel in your heart. That’s the quietest of all. But that’s another story.

The Night is also when the sky comes alive. Specks of salt against an inky blue tablecloth. It is when the stars talk to us. Light travels faster than sound. Perhaps that’s why we never get to hear what they say. One can only lip read the way they glimmer. I suppose we are not very good at that. And by the time the sound reaches us, it’s too late. It gets lost in the commotion of the next Day. Lost forever.

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Hope

Hope is a sedative, anaesthetic, palliative... Hallucinogenic. Hope is hallucinogenic.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Night

I love the night. That's when I feel peaceful and calm. And strangely sheltered by the darkness. When the stars come out for their conversations. Inky blue sky. Quietness and harmony. The natural state of things. Darkness. Absence. Blankess. I suppose darkness is the natural state of the universe. Light comes afterwards.

I love the night. Perhaps because I was born at night... Perhaps I found my way here through the night. The natural state of things. The natural state of me.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Question

Do we pass through time, or does time pass through us?

Friday, November 14, 2008

28

26 keys, no 28, with which I hope to create magic. Alphabets, space bar and full stop. 28 notes for a strange form of music played. 28 ingredients of a brew. 28 colours of a frenzied piece of art. 28 nights in which the moon goes from nothing to nothing.

The music of words.. The music lies neither in sound, nor in pattern, but in what they evoke in the space within.. In how they can make the mind contemplate itself. In how they question and answer. In how they tear apart and reassemble. In how they plunge into sorrow and console. 28 shades of grey. 28 vials of poison. 28 drops of tears. 28 fragments of silence. 28 contractions of your heart.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Yes or No

Flip a coin. If you don't like the outcome, you'll at least know what you want.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Ahem..

Hmm.. Hmmm? Hmmmm.... OK. This is re-entry number 3, if I remember right. I know, the frequency of posts here might make each post seem like a "comeback post" :) Well, now that I have broadband and myself for company I might as well get down to some long pending spring cleaning of my head and loading all the trash right into cyberspace :) You never know, such trash sometimes makes far more sense than most things I struggle to communicate.

By the way, as far as reasons for blogging again go, make it just the broadband :) I am not so sure of the second reason. It could be something else. If nothing else, its not what I just said it was. Not true.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Moving On...

Everytime I leave a place, I leave behind a part of me for good. Eventually, there'll be nothing left of me. I wonder if this is really as bad as it sounds... Maybe thats the perfect thing.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Concrete Maya

The past is mere memory. The future is pure imagination. The present is just perception.

Everything's an illusion. The self is part of the illusion. Thoughts too are therefore illusions. The concept of illusion is also an illusion. So, something has to be real, after the double negation. But nothing is. Nothing is real.

And nothing Is.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

I have Today

...to live life in the tiniest moments of near perfection and crazy beautiful madness; I know that reality will be upon me tomorrow in all its dark ugliness, but I do not care, for I have today, I have right now...

Roulette.

Is Life roulette?

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Trite

The greatest learning can come from watching oneself.. Watching oneself change.. Realising how and why.. So complete. Self. 99.99% pure.

...Sometimes the 0.01% makes all the difference.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Memories...

Memories of things that never happened....

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

This is my crazy universe...

This is my crazy universe. The sheer ridiculous beauty of it all... The pointlessness. The completeness. The absoluteness. The 3.24 am-ness…

The sheer peace.

It’s a special subliminal eternal moment. And I am writing trash.

Perhaps if I keep re-visiting myself this way often enough, I can become myself once again.

Inertia. Hunger. Numbness. Pure joy.

There is a deep strong beautiful responsive thing. Soul. It’s still there.

Words. Blankness. Music. Silence. Lingering. Finality.

How can anything be complete ever? Time is always moving. How meaningless to even have aspired for completeness, let alone fretted over it... It’s so natural! The state of incompleteness…

Recipe for inner realization and clarity.

Overwork, sleep deprivation. Music at 3 am in a dark room. Sit cross-legged before a laptop wearing headphones listening to silence and attain true knowledge of the self.

Knowing oneself. Self-ish-ness. Self-less-ness. Self-ful-ness.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

"Wisdom"

When young, we think our opinions will never change...
We never even think of the possibility that they might change...

Saturday, November 10, 2007

The Head and the Heart... And Buddha

Missing
Longing
Craving
Pain
Desire
Need
Pain
Despair
Pain
Reason
Pain
Logic
Pain
Reality
Pain
.
.
.
Pain

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Coming back.... Soon :)

Did not quite realise it's been so long, in fact! Time to get those WIP posts finished and out onto this space...

One year?! Ouch!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

One

...I am the stranger I know best...

Friday, August 04, 2006

Connection Was Temporarily Reset... Do You Want To Reconnect ?...

Feeling momentarily disconnected from myself... It makes me feel so.. unconnected.. free... suspended... and I am suddenly brought back to "reality"... But it is this "coming back" that is interesting... for the blankness that comes before it is.. well.. blank.. and can't be felt.. or re-imagined.. or duplicated... except the next time it really happens... This "coming back"... I suddenly "remember" that I "am" this "person"... It's like.. suddenly remembering something I have to do.. which is to "enact" being "me"... Like it's something I promised someone that I would do.. An obligation.. That slipped from mind and now sends me scurrying back on the path as soon as it is remembered.. The interesting thing is.. I feel like I have to"be" me..."be" being SUCH a VERB here... And that, so, I am something other than "me" too... And another thing is the nagging feeling that I should "remember" all the details of my life, my past and upto my present situation where I drifted off from and carry it forward with full awareness of all that data ( some sort of memory refresh and reload..)... Not a nagging feeling... but a jolt.. and this is the thought that I think when I wake up from those ever so short "disconnections"...

I love that disconnection.. Love it. Deeply. I have, sort of, felt those before.. perhaps as just "disconnections". No.. Not that way.. That word never featured.. But those "thoughts" mentioned here weren't there... It was more of a Who/what/where am I ?"... "Whats all this ?... This present moment ?..." Or something like that.. A sort of "Is this serious ? Are you taking this seriously ? Oh, this is being alive ?" kind of feeling... Thats the closest it can get to words.

The disconnections these days are deeper.. Of course, to my liking... Why do I like them ?... Because they let me forget myself..

This was written years ago...

Monday, July 17, 2006

Life Is Beautiful...

Yes. Life is beautiful... Not in the way things are usually beautiful... This is not about the pleasant, endearing connotation of beauty... Life is beautiful for Its greyness and blackness... An infinitely deep and beckoning vortex... Shades of black and shades of grey... And silver gleaming knives... They do not draw blood... There is no blood... They just go through you... You know Its gonna get you... Time and again... And each time feels so new... Inspires awe... Sheer awe and wonder... It never fails to get you... This is sheer beauty.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Fox Theory

An old story goes something like this... A Fox was walking through the forest.. He saw a Bunch of Grapes hanging above. The Fox wanted the Grapes. He tried to reach for it. He did not get it. He tried again. It remained out of reach. He gave up. Then, as is commonly alleged, he said : "Those Grapes were probably sour anyway."

This comment has been distorted and seriously misinterpreted for millenia.

There was nothing wrong with wanting the Grapes. And he tried earnestly to get what he wanted. However, he did not succeed. Not his fault. He tried again. That is what we are all supposed to do if we don't get what we want at the first attempt, right ? So this Fox is not the kind of fox, who gives up easily... Later, he gave up. Clearly, the Fox realised that he would not get the Grapes (at least by continuing with the present methods employed). It was a fact. He accepted it. He did not keep jumping up and down like a moron. He knew precisely when to quit. And he did. Then comes the comment.. This is where the crux of the issue lies.

Isn't it possible, that all he was trying to do, was to be a little optimistic ??? To look at the bright side ???

Isn't it possible, that his sixth sense had warned him that there was something wrong with the Grapes ???

Isn't it possible, that as a Believer in the Flow of the Universe, the fox felt that the Grapes had been denied to him for his own good ???

But nobody gave the poor guy his due. Nobody could stand the fact that here was a Fox who knew how to cope with the disappointment of not getting what he wanted. They rejoiced when he did not get the grapes, yet they were disappointed when he refused to be devastated by the Loss of the Grapes. If he had fallen down weeping, pining for the grapes, the world would have been happy.. But no.. He did not. He couldn't care less. And man, they just couldn't bear this optimistic Fox...Well...

The Fox went his way.

The Giraffe Aspect

Minutes later, a Giraffe walked by.

The Giraffe saw the Grapes.

He reached for it.

He got it.

He ate it.

He died.

The End.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Silent Shifting Breeze...

There is something about the inertia to blog again after a longish break that reminds me of something but I am not quite sure what... That is quite as good. Cuz for a long time all my analogies were about food. Then it was misunderstood concepts in electronics. The latter often did serious damage to any listener who had his or her concepts intact up till that moment. Well...

What are the things that have remained the same since the last post ? Hmmm.

I still love mountains.
Very Much.

No point in describing why I like them. Or how much. Or which my favourite ones are. Or where. I haven't seen them yet, my favourite ones. Or what they mean to me. Lots of things. But I'd better not try to explain. I like thunder and lightning too. Maybe thats easier to explain. Of course, the damage they do is quite another thing. But mountains don't do any harm do they ?

The crystal-seller in The Alchemist.. I used to think what's wrong with this guy.. I understood his problem kinda, but I thought his reasons insufficient. Well... Of late, I think its growing on me too..

The mountains can wait...

Sunday, January 29, 2006

The Basic Idea...

Hmmm...

Someone said the blog screams of inactivity. Its very simple. It is precisely when I am inactive that I do end up blogging. Like now, for example... So it screams of inactivity... When I am active, I am obviously busy being active so I do not blog. Or I might be involved in activities that have consequences that force me to be inactive for a while. Like.. ah, forget it.. Then I would not be in a position to blog. So sometimes when I blog it might be because I am inactive but the converse cannot always be true... Wait... what did I just say ?... Ah well...

Wait... Blogging is an activity of sorts... How can a blog, then, be inactive ? Ah yes.. If there has not been any blogging going on, then, and only then, would the blog scream of inactivity... But wait... Screaming too is a form of activity... So if the blog is screaming, whatever it might be screaming, "inactivity" is the last word that should be used in the context or anywhere remotely near it... So... wait... Nah.. Leave it... The blog will soon start screaming if I pursue this any further... Or maybe the screams have died down already... Ah...

See, what happened was this... I was on a train. It was a hot day. But I was drinking hot tea. My mind was moving in a direction approximately opposite to that in which the train was moving... I was confused. I was also listening to confusing ghazals... Cliched Kerala scenery outside. Nice. Somehow felt comfortable in my skin... It happens, those odd moments when things seem to fit in more than usual, even without there being any real changes in the way things are... So what was the point behind saying all this ? Well, whatever it was the purpose must have been served. A good thing to believe... Always.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Supposed Sense Beneath Chaos

Hmm. There is nothing to say. Actually, there never is anything to say. But people keep saying things. All the time. And then suddenly one feels there is nothing to say. As if there really ever was anything to say at any point. There never is. But things seem one way or the other. And we proceed based on these seeming thoughts. Maybe sometimes we know that all this is bogus. But what else ? What else is there to do ? There is nothing to be done. There is nothing to be had. There is nothing in anything. There is nothing. But then there are thoughts. Thoughts. That never stop.

And it keeps me awake
My mind
Gives me no rest
Up and searching again
It has not forgotten
Time and again
Stirs up this unrest
Wish it wouldn't ask
Those questions
Again
Those for which I have no answer
But presently it will
I know

Something feels wrong here
One missing thing
One basic mistake
That's bringing everything down

My mind goes round and round
On the same tracks
Cutting deeper grooves
Slicing deeper

There it goes again
Hopeless
Senseless
These repetitive games
The same old thoughts
Time and again

Desperate to exit this orbit
If only to go spinning off into the unknown....

To cease this tugging at my insides
And break this wall of flesh and blood
And let the nothingness escape
Back to where it came from
Where it belongs

And all that one can do is watch
In those rare moments of numbed calm
And when one watches everything, watches Life
Its like standing with dropped head, eyes gazing straight ahead
Mind calm... oh so calm...
At the edge of a great desert
The breeze blows the dust into swirls
And breathes through your hair
A gentle whiff
The flat dry expanse ahead

Is neutrality really negative ?
Why should emptiness ache ?
Peace isn't essentially pleasant

Question the fundamentals
It removes the ground from beneath your feet
That beautiful floating feeling

And then there is only One
One
Everything boils down to this One
One point
One exact infinite continuous blob of precision
Nothing else matters
Nothing at all matters

How could I ever lose this ?
How could I ever move away from this ?
But I do
I keep doing

Getting lost within getting lost...

Monday, November 28, 2005

Untitled

Well, that last one on Optimism seems pretty ironic now... Especially since my CAT bombed in the interim. Yup. Thats my second CAT bombing. I do not, however, intend to make a habit of it. My sponsors would chuck me out. So there are all those other tests to write... More pretty pink OMRs... BRING 'EM ON, I SAY !!!... Err... with ALL due respects, of course. For, as I said, I do not intend to make a habit of this paper-bombing business. An overrated experience... I should know by now....

My weekends are currently spent in travelling to exotic places and colouring OMR sheets. Well, some people might question the exoticity ( you dont think there is such a word ?..... CAT is OVER, I say !!!... ) of the places I visited. To those people I do not give what is commonly known as a "damn".

There have been a few spectacular insights on the way. One regarding what is commonly known as the "criminal streak" supposedly innate in all humans. I beg to differ. There is, in addition to ordinary "criminal tendencies", a "suicidal streak", and a "homicidal streak" in man. That adds up to quite a spectrum, not a mere streak. Especially if you are standing near the door of a speeding train. Even more so if there are other people too standing near the other door. A moment charged with possibility.... Then it passes. Blip.

I was wondering..... Is it better to be Deluded than to be Depressed ?... Maybe Depression is Delusion too.

Well, that should do for now. I wanted to write a gross story or somethin. But that will probably have to wait.
Everything feels so different. I don't feel the same either. Let it be this way.

Well, Life is ONE weird thing.... A "thing" at best.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

....On all those things I thought Optimism really was.... And how relieved I am that they are all wrong...

....Just that I thought optimism was about being a goody-goody who never complained and saw bright, beautiful things that others would not see even through electron microscopes... and being totally blind to big ugly things like" why does life keep dishing out this kind of stuff to me" and "bad day after bad day after bad day"... Some sort of corrupted, selective vision while looking at life... So I thought this was just another kind of fraudulent thinking... Fake happiness... I might even have tried it but it never worked, also because the pessimism was WAY too deeply ingrained...

Then I thought... Hey what I THOUGHT about optimism was all THAT ?.....Really ? Did I believe all THAT ?... Eeew !.......And just putting the thoughts that way showed where I was probably wrong....

I thought optimism was about hanging on till the "real thing" comes...

It is actually about HAVING the real thing right here right now... No waiting. No game-playing...

Sounds ok... Good copy, in fact. But it's STILL not easy to undo the thinking patterns of a lifetime... But just thinking of how much happier I could be if I stop thinking negative thoughts kinda helps... It is as simple as that.

Funny thing is, I used pessimism as a cushion. Defence mechanism. "Nothing can be worse than what I imagine if I imagine the worst". Correct. But does that really make anything any better ?.... Well if you genuinely believe that only horrible things happen to you all the time (like I did...) then you might get the perverted satisfaction of saying "Aha! Not quite upto what I thought.... you could not surprise me.. ". It is really SICK... But so are so many of our thought patterns... As long as they are vague thoughts in one's head, one never realises the absurdity. But put it into words, or THINK it out... and man...

Then I really believed that if I was too optimistic, Life would give me below-average stuff because I would be content anyway ( which should not be a problem if I am REALLY content... but hey, I thought it was about WAITING for better stuff and ACTING good...) So I would be cheated, right ? I could get better if I set my standards higher. Refuse to be pleased. I might be exaggerating. But something like this was probably in my head. Another damaging thought pattern.

Then there was the spooky thing about being grateful and counting blessings. I found that as soon as I start countin my good things, they start to disappear... Really ! Maybe it was just a phase. But it scared me for good. Like, it would be so much better to be grumpy than to start losing the blessings one by one simpy because I started being grateful or counting them ! I haven't unravelled this mystery yet... But I have long since started being grateful and moderately optimistic... At least this was one dumb pattern I FORGOT about !

All these silly thoughts crumble when you emphasise the "BEING" happy part... not the "acting" happy... or "pretending to be" happy... or even "keepin ur chin up so that Life will be impressed and reward you with REAL happiness sooner or later"...

That last one... I really seemed to have believed it for a long time.... No wonder Optimism seemed like a painful struggle ! It's really very simple. Just that we sometimes lose our capacity to see the simple things... That happens. But that's all that happens. Just THAT. The rest of the story is fictitious. The long row of dominoes is imaginary. There is no crisis. We can all go home now.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Survival Tactics

There's something to be said about Karma with no thoughts wasted on results.
Sometimes that's the only way.


Saturday, September 17, 2005

"If sometimes we don't get lost, there's a chance we may never find our way".

One of my favourite quotes. Understandable, since I seem to have made quite a career out of getting "lost". I mean, this wandering thing... is so addictive.... One just keeps moving aimlessly... as far as the tether would go... And it gets to a point where one just CAN'T be still. In one's head.

Sometimes life derails. And the derailment is thoroughly appreciated and celebrated and experienced. After some time, one thinks, " This is boring. Let me get back to where I was before this happened". Then maybe get "back". Maybe.

Life keeps moving. If one falls behind, just run a few paces and hop back in. Continue the ride. Cuz underneath all this, life is alright. Its working in its own way. And working fine. It never goes wrong. I do.

Maybe my grip will slacken. Maybe I'll fall behind again. But I'll get back here everytime. Time and again. That's how it works.

Just one question. Why do I keep jumping out at the slightest opportunity ? Why do I not want to continue "here" in the first place ?

Cuz "this place" is not where I belong. This place is an interim detention. And I want to get to "that" place where I belong before it's too late. Before it doesn't make a difference anymore. Before it ceases to matter. Before all resistance dies out.

"Life" and " I " seem to have contradictory interests.....

Quite a situation.

:)


Monday, September 12, 2005

Half-Baked Human: Part 2

Disclaimer : This could be gross.

Life seemed suspiciously ok for a while. My friends were always asking, "Are you high ?" and I was forever saying, "Man, you DON'T know...".

Then it happens.

I get a package in the mail. Wrapped in brown paper. The mailman drags from the van to my door. Man, I do NOT have to be told what THAT is. Sigh.

I take it inside. Wonder what to do next. I open the package. No, there's no card saying "Luv, A & B". Only a note stating that the defects found in the enclosed item were of my own making and hence the item would have to remain in my custody. Great.

The ache is back. I have to do SOMETHING before the entire list of symptoms unfolds and I am left powerless once again.

I take the bloody thing in my hand. Heavy, sure. Hmmm.

I take it to the kitchen, not really thinking of what I was doing. Get the cutting board. And the knife. Place the "item" neatly in the centre of the board. I start slicing thin layers. The ache is forgotten for the moment as my brow furrows in concentration. There, done ! Now to turn this thing by 90 degrees and start slicing again. Hmmm. Finished with that as well. Now what ?

I take a frying pan. Place it on the fire. "Heat oil. Saute till done." Okay. DONE.

Now what ?

A rustling sound in the backyard. That damned dog.... Always jumps the wall but cannot jump back. Wait a minute...

I put the stuff in a newspaper and open the back door. The dog responds to my whistle. Here doggy.... Hmmm. That's the last I see of it. At least it served a purpose for someone.

It's dinner done, I shoo the dog away. And dump the dishes in the garbage can.

Sigh. Feels MUCH better. Another day ends. To bed, and a dreamless sleep.

Morning sunshine. Well, nearly noon, actually. I open the door and pick up the paper. What's that noisy vehicle ? The Corporation's garbage van. And just outside my gate, the reason for it's arrival. The dog. Dead.

Great. I didn't mean to. Honest.

The van takes it away.

Now what ?

I struggle to think of ways in which it might come back once again. Hmmm. I'll think of something when that happens.

People are back to asking me "Man, are you high ?".....

The Good Life.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Investment Tips

Arranged marriage is low-risk, low-return investment. Love marriage is high-risk, high-return investment. Capital recovery is virtually impossible in both.

Advice : Put your money elsewhere.

Don't believe me ?

Try this : "A fool and his money are soon parted."

Saturday, September 03, 2005

... All Rights Reserved, Life.

Life socks you hard in the face and then catches you as you come crashing down. One cannot help but wonder what the whole exercise is all about. I mean, what's the whole point ?.... Life, listen, lets sit down and talk this through. Where's your script, and what's this psychedelic action sequence doing here ?.....

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Half-Baked Human

Things are going way too far. I am convinced that I cannot handle any more episodes. Man, I have no use for this thing. It's just too much trouble. I stuff it into a sack and set out. My luggage makes me feel awkward but on the street noone seems to notice. Ah... Good. Or maybe I don't care anymore... By now.

After what seems a never-ending journey, I stumble in through the gates. Cold, impassive building. Suits me just fine. The burden is becoming unbearable now. I drag it to the door. A voice answers my tired knocking. I step in. Two cold, smug types behind a massive desk. They eye me with indifference as I drag my sack across the floorboards. Hmmm. A and B. Well, I don't care. Just give me a minute to leave this here and I'll be as smug as you two.

A : What ?
Me : I want to return something.
A : What, that ?
Me : Yeah.
B : Bricks ?
Me : Ummm.. Somethin like that.
A : Cut it out. What's that ?
Me : Heart. I don't need this anymore. Never did, actually. Thought I'd return it.
B : Why here ?
Me : Think I got it from here.

These guys are gettin on my nerves. The feeling must be mutual, by their looks.

B : Leave it here.
Me : You mean, just... around here... (middle of the room)
A : Yeah.
Me : Ummm... Ok.

I hesitate.

Me : I have some other complaints too.
B : What ?
Me : I mean, there are some other problems too. Gross mistakes.
A : Pun intended ?
Me : Ummm ? ...

Ahh... Whatever...

They exchange wry smiles. But I've got to clear it all up right now.

Me : I want them seen to. Maybe fixed.
A (to B) : Go check the records.
B goes into another room.

A gazes at the sack. And then stares blankly into space. My gaze shifts round the room. Bare walls. No furniture except for the table and two chairs. Not even a clock. I liked that. I shouldn't have expected one here anyway. B comes back.

B : Just like I thought. Half-baked human. Multiple defects.
Me : What ?

What ?.......

Me : What is that supposed to mean ?
B : Figure out for yourself.

Well... This probably explains some things. But it doesn't solve anything. Or wait...

Me : I want to turn myself in.
A : What ?
Me : I want to leave some more things here. Most of me, in fact.
B : We don't want all that. That's bad enough (nodding at the sack).
Me : I mean, take me out of me, and I'll leave the me here.
A : Which "you" ?
B : What the... Good thing there aren't too many of these half-baked types around...
Me : Am I the only one ?
B : Sure hope so.

A seems to be considering the proposal. Hmmm.

Suddenly, a creaking sound. I watch A's jaw drop and his smugness give way to surprise. The creaking grows louder and ends in a crash.

A : ... Where ?....
B : That thing went right through !

I turn around, My sack is gone. A gaping hole in the floor with splinters sticking out. Darkness below. I look up at their stunned faces. Ok guys, be smug now. Why do you think I wanted to leave it here anyway ?

Their shock gives way to dirty looks. Hmm. No further business, I guess. Whatever. I turn to leave.

A : Wait. What are you going to do with the vacuum ?
Me : What vacuum ?
A : The thing you left behind, it leaves a vacuum where it used to be.
Me : I think I'll keep it.
B : Thought you'd turn that in too.

I open the door and step outside. Past the gates and out on the street. I eagerly search for a difference. Both within and without. Only a numbness.

I make my way home. The sun is down. My bones ache. That was quite a burden to carry. Sleep sinks in.

I wake up. Sunshine. I sit on my bed and wonder if it was all a dream. Well, whatever.

I stand up. Feel a lightness within my ribs. I have to lean a little to the left to balance myself.

Wait a minute..... Yeah, RIGHT !... But can there be another explanation ?

For the moment, I don't care. Feels good. All you demons.... Come back and get me. There's nothing here to get.

Life goes on. Much better though, I must add.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Dreams...

Sleep without dreams is like an empty toffee wrapper. And there's such variety....ranging from the downright hilarious to the most thought-provoking. Or just a bunch of random images. Dreams make sleep worthwhile... or else it would be like one was simply knocked unconscious every night. How drab.

There was a time when all my dreams were dimly lit documentaries on travel. In school, it was C.P. Travels and new routes and missing the school van... In college, it became KSRTC buses, staring at rows of them and wondering which one to board, waiting at bus-stops, and countless journeys... Always travelling. I read somewhere that it means that I feel someone else is controlling my life. Neo in The Matrix, eh ? Not bad... Then it began to include train journeys. Trains with no roofs, trains with the door on the roof....

Then of, course, exams... Exams where I am late, haven't studied a thing...exams where I am running out of time but doing nothing about it, or wandering outside the exam hall, watching other people write....And finally I wake up and think " Oh, that exam was last week. It's all OVER." It's SUCH a WONDERFUL feeling to realise that. A wonderful start for any day...

But the funny thing is, I don't "feel" a thing in my dreams... I never panic. Seeming "nightmares" are the regular stuff of my dreams, but I just think " Oh, that's how it is, isn't it ?... hmmm.." I might be going to die in my dream (ever so often), but I feel this same thing. All kinds of disasters... Lost in jungles, wandering over strange territory, lost from the group in excursions, hiding with fugitives, chased by a pack of dogs, hiding in huge mansions, imminent death in many forms, abductions... Still the same "oh really...hmmm..." reaction. I am genuinely entertained by my nightmares, they are as entertaining as horror movies probably are to most people. When I wake up, I think "Ooh, scary...". But while dreaming, I just sit back and enjoy... And maybe criticise the lighting and the plot. That's one thing... All the dreams have dim lighting. Lack of guts in real life ?

Then there are dreams that defy logic... Like being the only sister of twelve brothers and travelling with them to Africa ( by train, again) to attend my sister's wedding... (which sister ?) on some mountain-top (Kilimanjaro ?). There was even a dream about the end of the world. I was on the terrace, probably night.... and there were meteors raining down on earth, huge swooshing rocks going up in flames... And I thought "How pretty ! So, this is how the world ends...hmmm...".

Friday, July 08, 2005

deja vu

Hmmm. One month of sinful sloth behind. Exactly one month since I shot out of a swivel chair in the Communication Lab into FREEDOM...The FIRST "engineer" ( in a very, ah... broad sense of the term...) to finish the morbid academic 4 year stint at our college.... The FIRST one to be DONE with the LAST of the exams... How great the future looked... No more long nights of straining over chromatic dispersion or matlab programs or microwaves... No more assignments to plagiarize... No tests to postpone (having postponed more tests than we have ever written in the past 4 years...)

Sigh... Turns out I was also the FIRST to lose all fascination for the new routine.

Sleep at 1 am. Wake up at 10.am. Have brunch. Fight with the cats. Check mail. Re-re-re-confirm that there's nothing worth anything on TV. Read Jim Corbett. Eye cats with suspicion. Turn the kitchen upside down trying to fix a snack. Go for a walk. Watch the senior citizens overtake me. Return home disillusioned. Fight with bro. Feel drowsy. Have a bath. Shoo cats out of my room. Go to the terrace. Get a sore neck from staring at the stars. Watch an aeroplane with it's hiccuping lights swoosh by. Listen to the neighbours clanging dishes in the sink. Inhale the aroma of their dinners. Wait ! That's from this house... My dinner ! Hurtle downstairs. Do justice to the meal. Watch dad chase cats. Ping a dozen missed calls to my now "ex"-classmates. Go back to the terrace. Stare at spooky tree-tops in the moon-light. Stare at lights in the distance. Wonder what people there are doing. More interesting lives, I hope ? What's that creature stalking me in the dark ? Another cat ! Time to go downstairs. Realize that no amount of reading will get me to sleep. Go to bed. Toss and turn. Try to forget Corbett and his ferocious felines. Toss and turn. Bright sunlight. Hey, why are you waking me up - it took me hours to fall asleep !