Ok... this is a note to self. How many times do I need to remind myself that I was not endowed with the same normal heart as others. I am not and I emphasize on N-O-T, not! meant for rides. I am meek, weak, fragile, pansy and much more. Motion sickness worms have infested my veins and they are going to live there for life! So, I must, must not try risking my life again by riding the giant wheel again!
It was just yesterday... my cousins, me and my brother went to the Gwalior fair. It is held annually and it never has anything new to offer other than the details of the lost child's undergarments announced on loudspeaker throughout the fair!! Why are these stupid parents let inside the mela (fair)!?
"Why, what are you hiding there?"
"It's a 4-year old!"
"Oh, and what is written on your forehead there!??"
I-am-a-stupid-irresponsible-parent
"Sorry, we have strict orders! We can't let you inside the mela."
----------
Anyway, after much insistence, I mister dumbhead was convinced to once again sit in that ride of suicide they call the giant wheel. It went up, and it came down. Wow! Thrilling! See? I am not scared anymore!!
Wait a minute, they are just warming up! *Speeding up now* Gosh! I feel pins and needles all over my body! I am growing numb! I feel my heart beating against my chest! I am cold! I feel like throwing up. My brain is floating in the excessive cerebrospinal fluid produced during this activity. I think it is tossing and turning. This is deja vu. Why am I stupid enough to ride this thing again thinking I have grown stronger with the heart of a lion now. Damn you, Swami Vivekananda! It's your fault. It's all your fault. It's you who wanted the youth of nation with the courage of a lion! I was striving to fulfil your dream and I am gonna die doing that!! I am yet a virgin! What a waste of youth!
At last, the wheel of death stopped..... with my cabin hanging on the top. Murphy's law!
Thanks to this experience, I now know what it feels like just before dying from a heart attack!
Never again! No! Or maybe next time is the last time.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Random in tandem
I see arranged marriages all around me. Even among the educated lot of Indian society, the word "love marriage" is "filmy" and somewhat filthy. Behind closed doors, in drawing rooms, everywhere people mutter and whisper that X married Y and they knew each other beforehand! How shameful! I think the key words here are "middle class". Indian middle class has to somehow discern the upper class and the lower class from itself. As the thinning boundaries and its growing ambitions make the job difficult day by day, the middle class works on certain sturdy definitions that define it and keep it grounded.
One such notion defining it is the higher sense of morality which feeds its ego. It is like saying, "Look! We have risen above ground and touching new heights but, we still haven't forgotten (unlike you!) where we come from and what we were spoonfed with; and that we will continue to plant the saplings of the very same ideology into the minds of posterity. This notion is kind of ok at certain points but, when it starts taking the shape of intolerance, it needs to be met with an iron hand. Else, we'd all continue to do the same mistakes our forefathers did without learning from them... because it would be a liability. We know it's wrong but, it ought to be right because our forefathers lived their whole lives on it.
Just like the line between middle class and the so-called progressive class, there is a gap of generations. The upper member of this gap needs to somehow negotiate tactfully its way through rationalism. The walls of faith need to remove their blindfold and it would be heartening to see if it happens without a hard fought revolt.
Speaking for myself, I am glad I didn't find myself into this cultural clash as I am not as deeply in love with anyone that I would fight my parents to marry her. I would need to negotiate my way through though when the time comes... until then, the waters are calm. Any ripples?
One such notion defining it is the higher sense of morality which feeds its ego. It is like saying, "Look! We have risen above ground and touching new heights but, we still haven't forgotten (unlike you!) where we come from and what we were spoonfed with; and that we will continue to plant the saplings of the very same ideology into the minds of posterity. This notion is kind of ok at certain points but, when it starts taking the shape of intolerance, it needs to be met with an iron hand. Else, we'd all continue to do the same mistakes our forefathers did without learning from them... because it would be a liability. We know it's wrong but, it ought to be right because our forefathers lived their whole lives on it.
Just like the line between middle class and the so-called progressive class, there is a gap of generations. The upper member of this gap needs to somehow negotiate tactfully its way through rationalism. The walls of faith need to remove their blindfold and it would be heartening to see if it happens without a hard fought revolt.
Speaking for myself, I am glad I didn't find myself into this cultural clash as I am not as deeply in love with anyone that I would fight my parents to marry her. I would need to negotiate my way through though when the time comes... until then, the waters are calm. Any ripples?
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Great, isn't it?
Isn't it great when you feel happy for no reason? This thing when occurs to someone must be a blissful experience and I am telling by my experience. I woke up happy today... the radio aired all my favourite songs, I looked back and smiled on my old memories. Good and bad. I thought about life and felt so gifted; to have such great family, friends... I love me!
I sat where I wanted, I thought what I wanted and I did what I wanted. It was a day filled with positive energy for no reason. Remarkable.
I sat where I wanted, I thought what I wanted and I did what I wanted. It was a day filled with positive energy for no reason. Remarkable.
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Apologies.... I'll continue the story...
Hey... so sorry...
As I was typing the last entry in my college library, I ran out of time and had to go. Didn't get a chance to come back since then. And, as I left Davangere and reached back home, things just kept me busy and I totally forgot about this unfinished story. Besides, in my absence this ol' 'puter of mine took quite a beating from the trojan horses, worms and viruses roaming out there.
Anyway, back to business (Thanks threeiceys for reminding by the way... and a happy new year to you!)-
I'll start from the beginning.
Once upon a time, there lived a town... a living, breathing town. A small town with little guile, tact or cunning. A town which knew only the language of simplicity and charm. The seasons seemed to be pleased with the town. Summer was optimum just to give the autumn leaves enough contrast against the golden brown soil. Winter just prepared the environment to welcome spring. And rain? Rain was a close friend of this town. Never did it fall uninvited. Never did the clouds dare roar on the denizens. Politely, they would shower it so that everyone takes his own sweet time to reach home, take out the umbrellas and take guard. The rain would then soak the city in its freshness. The green would go greener and the pink would go lavender. It was all orderly and planned. God's perfect plan. Mishaps did occur from time to time, where don't they? But, the town recovered in a heartbeat as no one was guilty... just hard luck... so, life would smile at itself and go on.
There lived a single mother with her young boy. The son was any working mother's dream. Early to bed, early to rise. Charming, polite, assiduous... respectful and all. The mother and son put up in a small cottage with a passive fence all around. Passive because it didn't give an impression of intending to prohibit encroachment. On the contrary, it seemed to invite it. The low lying barbed wires and beds of beautiful flowers all around were an open invitation to stray goats in the vicinity, but the outdoorsy nature of the mother made her ears so prone to any movement outside that the goats et al would ignore the open invitation, after so many failed attempts. When the mother and son won't be at home, the harmony of the town was such, that there won't be any cattle around. In short, everything was in order.
One day, as you had begun to expect, the order broke! The son who'd be back home before the evening showers started hadn't come back from school even after it started coming down heavily and even eventually stopped. Mom was worried but, so used to the order, she wasn't much perturbed. Only when it started getting really dark she went out in search. Something, somewhere was wrong- she could sense it.
She inquired at school, met his friends... as she was tracing the path back, anxiously- she stopped to see the crowd collected around something which she had ignored in hurry while her way up. Disappointment leads us to deeper places but, this one was an ugly one. A pool of blood, a body, same fuzzy hair, same eyes, same... she fainted.
Her child was dead. Her reason for living. Why would she want to carry on? The rest of her years would be devoid of happiness. The smile from her lips was snatched away. That night, it didn't rain. It just thundered. The clouds mourned the death at the top of their lungs.
The spirit of the town was bigger than the grief of a lonesome mother. It dawned. Life went on as usual. The colours were everywhere. They did offer everyone their share of joy, their share of life. Only that the mother didn't accept their offer. The neighbours, friends, friends of friends- all came and went but she was inconsolable. Well, not exactly. Actually, no one was able to answer a simple "Now, what?". The same old "meaning of life" question.
One evening, as she was sitting under the verandah staring at the zeroness, a goat passed by the side of the fence. She sat motionless. Usually, her eyes would go alert and ears as pointing in direction of a prey. But, she sat blank. Goat noticed this and cautiously looked back. Na-ah, she wasn't feigning it, dear! The goat, out of instinct, hesitatingly waited and slowly hopped inside. The mother still stared- right into the goat but as if it was a transparent object. The goat slowly started eating into one of the plants. The flowers were marred. The yellow and the orange started disappearing into the white of the goat.
The lady suddenly sprang from her chair. The goat, too timid to react, turned back and ran with all the force it had, never to look back; except once maybe, to have a last look at the garden of pink tulips, roses and what-nots. This timidity seemed to amuse the lady.
She took a walk in her garden, noticed the changes and smiled.
As I was typing the last entry in my college library, I ran out of time and had to go. Didn't get a chance to come back since then. And, as I left Davangere and reached back home, things just kept me busy and I totally forgot about this unfinished story. Besides, in my absence this ol' 'puter of mine took quite a beating from the trojan horses, worms and viruses roaming out there.
Anyway, back to business (Thanks threeiceys for reminding by the way... and a happy new year to you!)-
I'll start from the beginning.
Once upon a time, there lived a town... a living, breathing town. A small town with little guile, tact or cunning. A town which knew only the language of simplicity and charm. The seasons seemed to be pleased with the town. Summer was optimum just to give the autumn leaves enough contrast against the golden brown soil. Winter just prepared the environment to welcome spring. And rain? Rain was a close friend of this town. Never did it fall uninvited. Never did the clouds dare roar on the denizens. Politely, they would shower it so that everyone takes his own sweet time to reach home, take out the umbrellas and take guard. The rain would then soak the city in its freshness. The green would go greener and the pink would go lavender. It was all orderly and planned. God's perfect plan. Mishaps did occur from time to time, where don't they? But, the town recovered in a heartbeat as no one was guilty... just hard luck... so, life would smile at itself and go on.
There lived a single mother with her young boy. The son was any working mother's dream. Early to bed, early to rise. Charming, polite, assiduous... respectful and all. The mother and son put up in a small cottage with a passive fence all around. Passive because it didn't give an impression of intending to prohibit encroachment. On the contrary, it seemed to invite it. The low lying barbed wires and beds of beautiful flowers all around were an open invitation to stray goats in the vicinity, but the outdoorsy nature of the mother made her ears so prone to any movement outside that the goats et al would ignore the open invitation, after so many failed attempts. When the mother and son won't be at home, the harmony of the town was such, that there won't be any cattle around. In short, everything was in order.
One day, as you had begun to expect, the order broke! The son who'd be back home before the evening showers started hadn't come back from school even after it started coming down heavily and even eventually stopped. Mom was worried but, so used to the order, she wasn't much perturbed. Only when it started getting really dark she went out in search. Something, somewhere was wrong- she could sense it.
She inquired at school, met his friends... as she was tracing the path back, anxiously- she stopped to see the crowd collected around something which she had ignored in hurry while her way up. Disappointment leads us to deeper places but, this one was an ugly one. A pool of blood, a body, same fuzzy hair, same eyes, same... she fainted.
Her child was dead. Her reason for living. Why would she want to carry on? The rest of her years would be devoid of happiness. The smile from her lips was snatched away. That night, it didn't rain. It just thundered. The clouds mourned the death at the top of their lungs.
The spirit of the town was bigger than the grief of a lonesome mother. It dawned. Life went on as usual. The colours were everywhere. They did offer everyone their share of joy, their share of life. Only that the mother didn't accept their offer. The neighbours, friends, friends of friends- all came and went but she was inconsolable. Well, not exactly. Actually, no one was able to answer a simple "Now, what?". The same old "meaning of life" question.
One evening, as she was sitting under the verandah staring at the zeroness, a goat passed by the side of the fence. She sat motionless. Usually, her eyes would go alert and ears as pointing in direction of a prey. But, she sat blank. Goat noticed this and cautiously looked back. Na-ah, she wasn't feigning it, dear! The goat, out of instinct, hesitatingly waited and slowly hopped inside. The mother still stared- right into the goat but as if it was a transparent object. The goat slowly started eating into one of the plants. The flowers were marred. The yellow and the orange started disappearing into the white of the goat.
The lady suddenly sprang from her chair. The goat, too timid to react, turned back and ran with all the force it had, never to look back; except once maybe, to have a last look at the garden of pink tulips, roses and what-nots. This timidity seemed to amuse the lady.
She took a walk in her garden, noticed the changes and smiled.
Monday, 5 January 2009
First Post Of The Year 2009 (with a story to tell.)
Let me begin by wishing the MILLIONS and MILLIONS of my fans all across the world a very happy new year. Breathe in, deep... deeper... deeper still!!
Wait for it!
Wait for it!
Now breathe out...
How does it smell? How does it taste? The new air of the new year.... filled with same old crap!! Terror, plunging economy, falling standards- nothing changes...
Nothing changes if you don't want it to. Just before 2008 was leaving, saying its good-byes, it asked me to close my eyes, and from its tightly clenched fists slipped a feathery note. It had a picture of a key. A pretty, slightly obese, highly independent and oh... so... effervescent key. She showed me the way... to unlock... wait for it, wait for it....
"the lock"
Yes, the lock. The lock that couldn't be unlocked even with a thousand good deeds or a million fake smiles. It was the lock which safeguarded the doors. The doors with no creeks, no squeaks.... the doors almost invisible. Doors that are now within your reach and now they are not. Sometimes you ram your head so hard on them that you start bleeding from within. The doors to happiness, they were.
Ehh... excuse mua for the use of such colourful language. Anyway....
I had almost forgotten how to be happy in the past six months or so. A joke coming from someone would undergo a thorough scrutiny before reaching my funny bone. She helped rediscover myself. I dedicate this story to my key-
Once upon a time, there lived a town. Yes, lived. It had a living, breathing soul. An active spirit to keep its denizens cheery... (Arrgh! Gotta Go... will come back sooner than possible)
Wait for it!
Wait for it!
Now breathe out...
How does it smell? How does it taste? The new air of the new year.... filled with same old crap!! Terror, plunging economy, falling standards- nothing changes...
Nothing changes if you don't want it to. Just before 2008 was leaving, saying its good-byes, it asked me to close my eyes, and from its tightly clenched fists slipped a feathery note. It had a picture of a key. A pretty, slightly obese, highly independent and oh... so... effervescent key. She showed me the way... to unlock... wait for it, wait for it....
"the lock"
Yes, the lock. The lock that couldn't be unlocked even with a thousand good deeds or a million fake smiles. It was the lock which safeguarded the doors. The doors with no creeks, no squeaks.... the doors almost invisible. Doors that are now within your reach and now they are not. Sometimes you ram your head so hard on them that you start bleeding from within. The doors to happiness, they were.
Ehh... excuse mua for the use of such colourful language. Anyway....
I had almost forgotten how to be happy in the past six months or so. A joke coming from someone would undergo a thorough scrutiny before reaching my funny bone. She helped rediscover myself. I dedicate this story to my key-
Once upon a time, there lived a town. Yes, lived. It had a living, breathing soul. An active spirit to keep its denizens cheery... (Arrgh! Gotta Go... will come back sooner than possible)
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