Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Bridge..

'Seldom' : the frequency to which my encounters with inspiring pieces of text have decayed. So when I read this particular piece, from the ensuing stillness came the hurtling compulsion to acknowledge the the impact its had on me. Lucid, atmospheric, immensely thought provoking; reminded me of a combination of 'Virginia Woolf' and 'Two Tramps in Mud Time'....

'The Bridge' - Anushka Debnath

"My eyes fixed on the other end of that frail and rickety bridge. Their depths soon filled with the dawning of countless consequences eminent to befall my walk across the turbulent waters. The sun setting on the horizon marks the commencement of my journey. Slowly my gaze drops to the dark black mass of water - resembling nothing but a predator. A wise and experienced one - lurking and awaiting it's prey. Beguiling at first sight.

Again my eyes wander to the horizon. The last few rays of hope - the last few beams of guiding light - sinking into the depths of the unknown.

I see you standing on the other side. Friend or foe? I'm not too sure. You scare me yet lure me towards you. I want you and then again...maybe I don't. Who are you?

Every departing being has someone to bade goodbye. I turn around - wanting to see a friend who catches me in her embrace, wanting to see a loved one with a tear stained face, wanting to see the lover - each part of my being craves for, wanting to see the father whose worried eyes are clouded by his judgement of my apparent prodigality - nevertheless wanting to see someone. But all I am faced with is the ghost of happy memories whose invisible presence seems to be chiding me.

A single tear trickles down the side of my pale face. The quiet twilight and soothing russet sky - Nature's parting gift. But my choice has been made. A sigh escapes me as, with eyes downcast, I turn to face the bridge. My bridge."

Friday, June 26, 2009

Road Rage, Kitty Kitty and ImPULSEive CONVERSATIONs

Well its been a lot more than sometime since my last post and its only after having sent down a sumptuous meal to explore the inners of my insatiable stomach that I can now concentrate on creating the next post.

It was a pretty morose 23rd June afternoon. The clouds battled overhead. Cloud Warlord Apha cried like a baby at how mere cadet had stolen his thunder by posting incriminating images of the warlord staring at the fluffy rear of a 16 year old rep all over the world wide web. "So what if Im the 1st dark cloud leading a nearly all white troop," he thought. "Even I have feelings..Sob Sob". I sat there staring blankly at the resulting deluge of tears wondering whether Zeus would lament the lameness plaguing his ranks; he has been known to morph into a swan for the sole purpose of doing women. (Honest)

Then I got bored.

So I set off to IIT(Indian Institute of Technology) for the then ongoing Blender workshop, the subsidised food instilling feelings in my incessantly growling stomach that can be best described by this image (The gentleman on the right ie; worth a lot more than 1000 words).

The workshop itself proceeded pretty smoothly that basically consisted of me clarifying people's doubts (I was a Teaching Assistant). Smoothly because every doubt that I addressed ended with this smooth expression on the listener's face that looked more like I had just explained calculus to a child who had just discovered what Napier's bones are. Not a frown, mind you; frowns reveal partial understanding. This was just a smooth, blank expression of perfect indifferent perplexity.

My maligned communication skills pleaded for food therapy amidst hushed comments of "What a lame excuse to eat" in the background. A cup of subsidised priced cold coffee, a plate of subsidised priced maggi and a colleague bashing session that was in no way subsidised (Nitin has asked me to withhold his name, so pardon my impersonal reference of 'colleague'), we found ourself exiting IIT; we being Omkar, Prajakta and me. Next stop - Blue Frog baby!

Except for the fact that Omkar noticed this kitten at the gate. The deluge of emotions that morphed his face would've made Pacific look like a puddle. Under compelling need to express the poor animal's pathos, here's the conversation:

Omkar : "Here, kity kitty kitty"

Kitten1 :"Not again. Ive been felt up 7 times in 5 minutes! God, this is worse than being Bill Clinton's sec"

Omkar out of strong maternal instincts proceeds to pick it up by the back of its neck (resembling how cats lift their kittens while transporting them). He then, under emotions fast approaching 'incestuous' proceeds to cuddle and caress the kitten. The kitten meanwhile, seasoned to this treatment stars blankly at Omkar as if expecting him to start rubbing its belly with some lame excuse.

Omkar: "I shall now check if the kitten has worms by rubbing its belly"

Peta, who by some arcane survey has proved that since the living conditions of pet cats superlatively exceed those of slumdogs, human laws are applicable to cats as well, have found Omkar guilty of molestation.

A surprisingly comfortable train journey later we find ourselves walking toward Blue Frog: Omkar on the sidewalk, Prajakta just beside it and me a quarter way into the road. A speeding motorcyclist distracted by some cute girl on the opposite side of the road (at least i like to think he was so that i can partly blame him) raced past nearly missing me.

Since the motorcyclist's distress is comparable to that of the kitten's pathos, I againfeel compelled to relate his reaction.

Motorcyclist: "Abbe takle" (read: "Hey baldy")

That comment is courtesy my new hairstyle (or the lack of it) that has been a product of heat and boredom. But that's not the point. Being no stranger to the city's road rage and being more than acquainted to its expletives, a mere "Abbe takle" is a reaction that would safely win the guy a 'Most well behaved citizen' award. Not to mention a fleet of proud school teachers.

But here's why I actually decided to post this. Pulse Conversation playing at Blue Frog. Its usually a treat to watch your drum teacher shred the drumkit, but when all 3 of your drum teachers get along with a zitarist, a tabla virtuoso and a bassist the ensuing sound texture can send your adrenaline rampaging crazily through your blood. Well Im not sure if I would do justice by translating that into words (this is not good at all), so Ill just put up the video and let you all see what I mean.

Epilogue: Barack Obama has hereby banned all subtle referenes to him as Cloud Warlord Alpha. (I wonder why).

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

..Got A Green Heart..

Beauty lies in places deeper than your mirror.

After myriad thoughts that did not find preservation in words and a plethora of impressions written in sand, and wondering meanwhile what stares back at me from my mirror, I am back; hoping to pick up the thread I had left, or find a new one, knowing that each is an individual entity of the same rope entwined; entwined about what I am yet to figure out.

Well, getting back to the apparently more comprehensible thoughts, I feel this space would be put to good use if I mention Manasvi's poetry; refreshing pieces written with unapologetic honesty put forth with subtlety bordering on the outspoken. If you care to read them, you'll find them on allpoetry.com..been quite some time since I came across thoughts I could relate to, so I guess they deserved to be mentioned here.

Anyways she's given me a new topic to write about (because her tee bore a green heart :)), and I am curious to know what I can do with as randomly innocuous a source of topic as this one, so here goes (for the record, Ive got Goo Goo Dolls' Before Its Too Late keeping me company):

He stood on the edge feeling the wind play softly on his face. It was the first sense of movement he had sensed in the half hour that he had stood there. Or was it eons. He tried to feel the blood surging through his forearms. Or the adrenaline surging through that blood. He felt neither.

To the passers-by who glanced at him as an embedded part of the landscape, his thoughts seemed like a storm in a teacup. When he looked as far behind in time as he could, he felt like a teacup flung into an incessant storm. But he looked upon these things with a mildly detached, objective curiosity; as if he was seeing them from a protected pedestal behind a thin film, thick enough to let him feel detached, but thin enough to give him a tangible, remote sensation of the events that played out in his head. He longed to feel the angst he did not feel.

And so he allowed himself to fall into the abyss of analysis wondering how had he come to this.

It had in essence been a journey of his heart - red, because it had too much life running through the arteries, uh veins, (uh, we'll keep the biology aside)...Red, because it had a spring in its beat; because it beat with a hope to see the world being 'the stuff dreams are made of', innocently ignorant of the treacheries involved, living with infinite hope, like in a surreal dream.

But 'nothing's real until its gone'.

And so he had stood rooted, trying to feel her from afar..trying to see without worrying about cause or consequence, frozen in that moment, finding himself unable to turn away even after that 'moment had passed him by'. He wondered how many people let their lives be controlled by people who didn't care..how many spent their lives just existing, trying to be what they're told is acceptable, holding on to a social image that flatters to deceive..how many spend hours willing themselves to be what they thought others would like, realizing that those very 'others' forgot about them the moment they said goodbye. But man is a social animal, and we live in our relationships even 'if the other is hell'. So his heart felt bewildered.beaten.bruised.

And blue.

Blue, as if the oxygen had drained from it (uh, I guess we'll even leave the chemistry aside)..blue because he didn't know whether to run or wait for the smoke to clear and see who was still standing, or whether he wanted to know that at all..or whether it really mattered..whether there existed a truth beneath the lies, and whether he would find strength in it.

And ambling through fiction he found fact. He realized that all he needed to do was be himself; because he had his thoughts and he had hs belief and all those high-sounding things that are supposed to be good. But quite frankly, beacuse it is way easier to be yourself. And so, in giving in to yourself, you are actually conquering your faculties. I guss that's where the whole stoop to conquer thing comes from..And so he chose who should be happier amongst the two.

I guess this condition is a complicated mixture of being confused and mellow and assertive and confused about whether you should be assertve, so by the standard of my imagination, this condition would be like feeling yellow.

And thus he ended up having a green heart (= blue + yellow; sorry can't leave the physics aside) and he well, i guess just kept standing on the edge too bored thinking about all this and so came back in and went to sleep (sorry i'm too sleepy).


In retrospect, I started off decently and ended with a pathetic anti-climax (sleep does things to you), so I am sorry for being abstract. Uh, those who have to understand will, if they ever happen to read this crap, but more importantly Manasvi, I guess silence can sometimes say a lot more than words can; that's the state of perfect understanding, and yes, it is better to listen to you your ever screaming heart over the reasoning head.

Sorry about the tenses Sujit Sir, still working on them, and for all those who have endured this piece of 'heavy shit',
Thank You.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

My Biggest Mistake And How I Like Living With It

Guess who's back? :D Yes Yes, its been a while, but I've finally found time to write..wouldn't want to keep you ardently awaiting readers waiting, would I?

Its 7.06PM and my mood is quite aptly described by the Maroon 5 single 'Tangled' drifting through my speakers..tangled of sheer boredom, and wondering if thats also going to be the plight of the profs who correct my mid-sem papers (and Nirav's too, considering the only diff between our papers is the handwriting, which is probably why I get a few more marks..*scratching my head*.. Does anyone really read what's written?) Anyways, this boredom has prompted me to describe a story i promised i would, so here's the tale of "The Day The Sun Got Clouded":

(DISCLAIMER : Metaphors ahead..Expect random Context Free Language if you dont know better)

The Cloud drifted aimlessly along like she'd been doing all this while (literally, 'cause when she walks it actually looks like she's drifting)..She usually arrives with a thunder (thats actually her laughter), but today there was something melancholic about the way she moved..Listlessly she floated around the gray sky, wandering over barren fields bored and tired, looking for a spark of excitement 'cause thats what she actually lives by.The Sun meanwhile was stretching around his rays as he woke up..He usually arrives at his own pace (some feel he's always stoned), and carries along at his own pace giving a damn about whats going around, 'cause he's too busy just sizzling..But today, although he'd seen a lot, and although he'd been places, he didnt quite know what was in store for him..

'Cause its not everyday that the Sun gets burnt.

So it was then, as Sun was mischieviously extending his rays to places where they shouldnt be, and amusing himself by causing life to stir out of their sleepy blankets (and being called names for rising so early), that he saw Cloud. Cloud, meanwhile was trying to cure her boredom by asking Wind to tell her interesting stories of the places she had been, but Wind isn't the kind that likes gossip, so that ended up getting Cloud even more fluffed and gray. So Sun, who had been silently observing Cloud on many of his previous journeys decided to check on his old friend..


"Bit f@*ked, uh, fluffed, are we?", Sun came in with a warm smile. "Hmmm yeah..borrreed..things were good once, but the good looking Sign's gone," came the enforced reply. Sun felt a bit sorry, for he'd always liked the thunder and life that Cloud generally had, and he didnt find it fit that Cloud ever be in such a despicable state. Now few knew that Sun, although he mostly cared a tiny rat's ass about stuff in general, was quite the opposite when it came to those close to him (which is why he likes putting life into things). And fewer still knew that although Sun usually looked drugged, he actually had a very effervescent kid stowed away within.


So Sun, not wanting to see Cloud having the long face, decided to amuse his friend a bit.


So Sun got a bit warmer and started letting his rays playfully roll around Cloud, jostling her around. Cloud, too bored for anything got pissed and wanted to be left alone. Sun, truth to be said, found most of the arguments he'd had with Cloud quite cute, for this wasn't the first time the two had been in this situation, and impish by nature as he was, continued poking Cloud around. This really set Cloud off, but to her credit, she dealt with considerable patience. Sun, still unhappy at seeing Cloud low, got even more playful. But alas, the only thing it did was backfire. Cloud was miffed and they had a tiff. Now Sum discovered something he wasn't aware of..He actually had a conscience. He felt a bit sorry that he had plummeted Cloud's mood further instead of lifting it, and decided to just leave Cloud alone for a while, let things settle a bit, and went his way.

New day brought a new start, and Sun came by with his usual callous leisurely pace, musing at the general proceedings. Again he went around 'adjusting' his heat..warmly comforting those who needed it, and sizzling off the backsides of those who needed that. And again it was that as he was busy doing what he did that his eyes fell upon fluffily flustered Cloud aimlessly swooping around. Again he tried to liven things a bit, again to the same end.

And so it was for a few days. Sun always knew that Cloud was a frosty being, but she'd been a bit too icy lately. And through all the vigour and verve, Sun was forced to reminisce about his earlier encounters with Cloud...

It'd been a dull day, and Cloud had been leaking tears. Bemoaning she sat perched atop a desolate mountain, letting her grief out. And along came sun. "Guess what Cloud, my vision's clouded, but whats up with you?" he asked. Cloud by nature was a very very, very laconic creature, and it was only because of the sheer time for which Sun had been watching that he understood what was bothering Cloud. "Can't see the silver lining is it?" he asked. Cloud just replied with a solitary tear. "That's alright Cloud," he continued, "happens to me too. Got so many heatwaves around me, I wish I could just cool off a bit sometimes. But thats ok, 'cause all you need to do is let a little light in. I mean, thats what a silver lining really is, isn't it? Light coming through the greyness..and since every cloud has a silver lining, you gotta have one too Cloudy, so cheer up!"
And so it been that that elusive genuine smile had come back onto Cloud's face.

And as he remembered that, Sun again saw Cloud drift away, never looking back twice. And that was how Sun got his dark spots..Patches where even the Sun got burnt. And so then Sun continued on the way he was, having no regrets, 'cause all he can do is be himself, silently musing at the whole ordeal, knowing that there is warmth beneath the icy crust, but wondering at the same time..WTF was that all about..

So the story has been told, and I'm growing weary, so off am I..Till later then, all you B-E-A-utiful ppl reading my blog, ADIOS!!

Sunday, August 3, 2008

In Peace or Pieces?

Sarcasm : n. ironically scornful language.

Well Well Well, after having faced innumerable incriminating glances from victims of my sardonic urges, being held as the creator of a dialect called 'Chiragish English' (used to denote any part of the conversation that is seemingly weightless enough to drift above your head), and having somehow made significant dents in the most mammoth egos (thats actually pretty easy, considering you cannot miss if your target is a HUGE ego), my savoir faire (Chiragish version of "ability to behave appropriately; tact") has been put considerably into perspective, and I almost feel obliged to delve deeper to the obscure sources of my allegedly unapologetic sarcasm.

Many will (I really hope) agree with me when I say that sarcasm is a rather intelligent way of adding spice to a bland conversation. For instance, dosent it really get boring to have countless number of engineers moping and complaining about their indignations towards the Mumbai varsity..dosent it get boring to hear the guy next to you complain about how 'thet hout' chick walked away after listening to a list of things he thought sucked.

Lets face it man, we're a bunch of frustrated souls, given to whining about anthing that dosent 'rock' our lives. Sure, we all deserve to have our share of venting indignations, but try picturing this : Wouldnt it be great, if people dont call you a weiner every time your you're a whiner, wouldnt it be just awesome if your hot chick is actually all ears when your complaining? Of course it is, and all you need to do is just get creative with your complaints, all you really need to do is add that touch of sarcasm and touche, suddenly people actually want to hear you take digs at stuff.


After a while, people's fickleness gets to places including 'on your nerves' and 'beneath your skin'. Thts when it starts becoming a pain in any significant part of your anatomy, and you're left disillusioned..left wondering if people will ever be real. Thats when you're disgusted to know that the only thing that some people live by is cheap gossip. And slowly you find the dark humour in it. Thats when you feel pity, coz when you watch people getting hooked onto the grapevine,you're forced to imagine a piece of meat being thrown into a cage of starving dogs...And suddenly, you have something of your own to complain about, you suddenly have your own pet peeve.

But what do you do with all that apathy and angst. What do you do with all that frustration with people interfering in your life. Nope, you cant go around being rude to everyone, can you? Cmon, poor fellas just want a good gossip in their boring lives, you cant blame them..So you take that angst and turn it around, you turn it inside out, and you find a polite way to ask people to mind their own businesses..You get Sarcastic.

Suddenly, all your doing is taking a perfectly well-mannered sentence and adding a double meaning to it. And it hits somewhere it hurts. Really, all you said is a polite sentence, and people's penchant to assume the worse makes them believe you're taking a potshot at them, and you're grinning how people can have such a misplaced sense of self-importance.

Well this cures the angst at people's tendencies to intrude, and by now you know that some people will never have the mind to keep to their own businesses, so you're used to it anyways.But life has a way to throw at you what you threw at it, so new problems arise. The ones closest to you suddenly start digging out sarcasm in everything you say, and they gut hurt. So, you get hurt too..all over the same tendency of the human mind to just not let things go peacefully. So now, we'll add a bit of wisdom to the whole scenario.

You realize the down-side of conflict..of the pointlessness of a verbal battle even if you're the victor..coz you see that even if the egos have precipitated, you can still see the dents in those molten egos..dents you left wishing that some people just grew up..then you realize that there's so much scope for even you to grow..so you take the high road..coz its better to live in peace than to have others live in pieces.