Self

I like to see the lights from my window on the sixth floor here. There’s something about a light away in the darkness that just cheers me up. Maybe it’s the idea that there’s someone out there. If you go to the terrace of the apartment building, you can see a fertilizer factory in the far. It has these flames that shoot up every now and then like a girl that giggles when someone is whispering something flattering in her ears. There’s Iggy Pop playing on the laptop with AC DC to follow. I like them both. I remember once I had a particularly bad day at work. So I got down from the bus a couple of stops before my stop, and started walking in the centre of the road divider because it was breezy. I had my ear phones on with Highway on Hell playing at that time. I broke in to this mini jig and people from the bus were staring at me. I just smiled back at them and some of them laughed back. We have a tea break every day at work now, and they take me more seriously at work now. Funny how that worked out. But I like that J

Mom isn’t a fan of Rock. It’s too loud and some of it has too much of yelling for her liking. She doesn’t listen to any English music though. She likes more of old school hindi music. She still has most of her tapes she made when she was young, and they are many. She plans to transfer them all to a disc sometime in the future. She asked me to teach her how to do so.  Mom has done loads for me. But right now things are not that great between us. Strained. It’s not her fault, she’s just hurt by some of the things I have done in the recent past. She just wants me to get married and settle down soon, so that things pan out well for me. I don’t want to get married so soon, I haven’t even found a girl yet. There’re so many chocolates and coffees that are still to be shared after I find her. Lying on a carpet on the terrace and talking while staring at the stars as the cool wind blows by. Silly of course, it is the wind that blows. Had it been stationary it would have been just air. There’s this friend that I like who loves chocolates, but nothing mixed in it. No Nuts, no fruity flavours, just plain old rich chocolate. I haven’t met some like that yet. I find it interesting. If you’re reading this, I hope you blush. That would be a nice sight.

But then don’t we all have such things, things that make us exquisite. Like how I talk to myself and laugh at my own jokes in the bath. That freaks mom out by the way, but she’s used to it now. Oh and some of my friends after reading my last blog entry thought that something is wrong with me. I mean yes, quite a bit of the story hits close to me, but that is because it is easier to write that way. No I am not considering suicide. I just get all morbid ideas at times. I find that fascinating. I love myself too much to think of killing myself. Nuh uh. Wish you were here is playing now. It’s my favourite Floyd song. It is soothing to reach out to some one, to wish they were here. It’s almost 0230 in the AM now. Looks like I will be spending the rest of the time listening to music till I have to get ready and leave for work. I will catch a wink on the bus to work, so that I don’t doze off at work. That would be embarrassing. I will take a nice window seat and sleep as the cool morning breeze caresses me. I always find the wind soothing. Of the classical elements, it is my favourite.

Oh well, that is all about me. Do tell me about yourself too. I’d like that, some one reading this and writing a bit about themselves. Getting to know random people. Wonderful.

This is in response to WEEK #54 (5-27-12 to 6-2-12): Self at BGE2

Courage to face a lifetime

He was feeling uneasy today, again. He had been feeling so for the last few days now. He stood up from his chair and walked towards his window to slide it open. The view was wonderful. In the night he could see all the houses ahead with their lights as stars on earth. In the far one could make out a power plant with its silhouette of more tiny lights, like a cluster of stars. This was one of his favourite sights, and on a particularly good day a cool breeze would blow across. Today it didn’t have the relaxing feel as it normally did. He looked at the book in his hand and wondered where he had gone wrong.

He was reading Fountainhead when he paused upon a line. “He did not know that he had given someone the courage to face a lifetime..”. He brushed his hair with his hands as he thought of it. Courage. Courage had changed its meaning. It once meant walking across the hall in the dark, or crossing a street full of dogs on his own. Now it meant doing something to come out of where he was. Few weeks ago his mother had seen his bank statements. He had taken a loan some time back that was half way through. He hadn't told her anything about it. Nor could he explain to her where he had spent it. In his defense he thought, he had taken the loan so that he would not have to take money from his mom for the expenses and investments that were due. But then he had no ways to explain how and where he had spent them away in the past few months, with some thing being bought every other day. It is a good thing he thought, that she hadn't seen his credit card statements. That would have lead to hell, whatever of it was left to see.

Things were sour between him and his mother before. If they didn't get along that well before now was a miserable time. He didn't blame her, she lived alone in a different city, and the fact that he didn't trust her with things hurt her more. Every discussion would end up in an argument. He wanted to change how things were, but end up walking out of each argument with his fist clenched or biting his lips so that he would not speak something he would end up regretting later. It was not that his mother had raised him in poverty. They were a well to do family, but money was spent only on the necessary things. Now that he had a good job, the sudden influx of money made him spend at things he wouldn't have spent before. Now that he thought of it, that money was only as good as the person who was controlling it. This is not who he wanted to be. He thought himself to be great, and now had only great mistakes.

A week later after the first argument with his mother, he was almost run over by a car. He was walking around the park for some fresh air with his earphones on, trying to be away for some time. He didn't pay attention to the car that was coming his way while crossing the road, but was lucky that the driver braked in time. It did give him ideas. He walked back to his home and picked up the chef's knife. He had always admired it, all 8 inches of it with its smooth sharp blade. He was particularly fond of it as it cut vegetables of all sorts with great speed. He wondered if it could cut through his veins too with it. Maybe that would a way to end it all. He would not burn out as he had always thought, but would silently bleed through in the night. To be found later in the morning when his room mate would come back from his job. He took a moment for it to sink in, before the the horror of the very idea of taking his own life struck him. The knife fell with a clang as he began to take in deep breaths. The idea that he could even think of something like this was revolting.

A month had now passed since that incident. He got back to reading from that line. He thought the line was right. He needed courage, courage to face a lifetime. And he had to find that courage in himself.

This is in response to WEEK #53 (5-20-12 to 5-26-12): Pick a Line from a Book and Write from There. My entry is based on a line from The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.

Written in Water

There he lay
His name written in water
And the waves made from the name ebbed away,
Touching the lass sitting little away on the bank,
Writing her own name in water
And then watch her name ebb away too.

She sat there too
Her hand still in water
Now just moving
And making random waves in it.
The blowing wind catches her attention
For it reminds her of a familiar scent,
Making her wish she could smell it again.
A smile escapes her lips,
Stars light up in here eyes,
And an odd form of beating begins in her breast.

There she lay, her hand in water
Writing a name not her own.
She continues to stare in her own reflection
Even after the name ebbs away
The one closer to her than her own.
She takes a deep breath
So full of passion; so full of hope
Giving her the strength
To sit there and gaze at the water
And find a face in it not her own.

A rustle in the leaves and the sound of some steps
And she turns around all euphoric
For her wait is now over
She puts her arms around him
And they share each other’s essence.

There he lay
His name written in water
And the waves made from the name ebbed away.
He wondered who theses waves
Would touch this time

For you

If you're reading this, then this is for you...


----------For you-----------
Flickering every now and then,
Your eyes are like the fireflies that dance
To the joy of finding a partner.
Joy is elusive of you,
The tears that trickle down your cheeks
Tear and pull your skin like the maelstroms.
The clouds shall move in unison
Flock over to where you are
To kill the winds with their stagnancy.
The rain will then pour
Healing you with every drop
That shall caress your soul.
The rains will come for you.

When the night grows thick and dark,
Cocooning you in a sap of tranquility
Making the air too thick to breathe,
Suffocating you in your own breath.
The moon shall shine bright,
Its gleam subliming the envelop.
The moon will come out for you.
When the darkness of the night covers all
Encompassing all around you,
Laying difficulties in your path
The stars will shine brighter
Illuminating your path of Destiny
And guide you like they did the Three Kings.
The stars will shine for you.

When storms are heading your way,
And the skies prepare their arrows
And let their electric weapons through,
As the thunders and rumbles begin their vociferous march
Coming forward in waves,
Violating the borders of home.
Causing the doors and windows to clatter in fear
The sun will shine bright,
Its rays purging the ominous clouds
Creating an aura of protection around you.
The sun will rise for you.
Only For you.

Utopia

Utopia, The word brings a flood of thoughts and imagery to me. For me Utopia is a place and time where everything is seemingly perfect. Where all senses are passions, when being yourself is a joy. I can imagine many such futures.

The wind is blowing against my face and is caressing my hair as I stand on the top of ledge on a beach. I can still smell the sweet fragrance from the bed of flowers behind me, while my eyes feast on the beautiful array of colours that lies there. Rows of plants, flowers and fruits decorate the patch of land. Bees dance around the flowers intoxicated by the essence of the nectar, and tiny furry squirrels run up and down the trees squeaking merrily. The birds fly to their perch and sing songs; their music so touching and lifting that even has the flowers shaking their petalled appendages in rhythm.

I can feel the wind’s gusts as I spread my hands and take a step ahead off the ledge. It’s a big fall and I land on the sands of the beach. I see a figure sitting there running her hands in the foam of the oncoming waves. She turns and smiles at me and waves me over. I walk towards to my love. She’s beautiful. Her long brown locks come down in curls near shoulders and go all the way to her waist. The sparkle in her deep green eyes is followed by mysterious blinking of her eyes. As we get nearer she gives me a mischievous smile and splashes water on my face. The cool water hits me and as if it were a carrier of her contagious mischief I start splashing water on her too. She gets up and rolls in to my arms. Her essence is invigorating and I slide my arms around her waist pulling her towards me. We stare in each others’ eyes and something takes us over and we kiss, her moist, soft lips providing comfort to me. She smiles and we sit down and let the waves drench our bodies, enjoying every wave together as it comes.

Utopia is a world I believe that cannot exist, or rather we as humans do not deserve. We are way too diverse, too different to achieve it. Everyone has their different views and if those are different than the ones we have we tend to despise them. All of a sudden what matters more is the colour of the skin, the god we pray to, the place where we were born, or with whom we want to go for a hump ride and not the fact that we are all god damned humans. Instead of being amazed by the diversity of abilities we can exhibit we tend to turn against each other for those differences. I can imagine a one man, one rule, and one empire scenario. A situation where one individual or a set of individuals control the world. But then won’t it be forced on those who choose to differ and again that would be no different than tyranny or dictatorship. How about a no rule scenario? Total freedom would lead to total anarchy. With freedom comes order, something we as a species tend to lack. And we have a problem with authority. Whenever someone rises, good or bad, wrong or right people get ready to make them fall. We have turned the very blessings of knowledge and choice in to curse. We have knowledge, and we continue to significantly add to it, but not to excel. We make choices and more recently we tend to make the wrong ones, well at least the ones that make the most damages.

I know I sound hypocritical for the very least, may be even a bit of a misanthrope. Better embrace the reality than deny it. It’s a dream that is used as hope that someday we will survive ourselves, our choices, and our very root nature.

So yeah, I was supposed to write my little bit about Utopia here. I did start off with the little utopian dream of mine but then it got me thinking, and I got another dream, a coin flip should you say. Utopia is a vision, a dream of a perfect or near perfect reality. If we are to make Utopia a reality if not for ourselves then at least for our children and theirs we have a long way to go. I’ve always believed in miracles. It’s only a miracle that today I am writing this, and you are reading this. Let’s hope for a big one.

Feminspirations- Thankful

There are many beliefs as to how women came in to existence. Maybe god pulled a bone out of the first man’s ribs and made it to in to a woman to be man’s ideal companion, May be she was molded out of earthen clay just like man, or that she evolved into a female human alongside with the male human from our ape like ancestors. The bottom line is however, that she was created equal to him and not inferior.
Along the lines, as we progressed and evolved from barbarians to the civilized people that we are now, women have many a times taken the seemingly back seat role. No she did not earn money for the family but took it from the hard working husband. No she did not study and graduate, but depended on her children when it came to reading and signing important documents. But she did handle the money and take care of the house, she saw to it that the fees and bills were paid for, and that the kids and husband got what they wished even she had to sacrifice what she wanted to buy. She was to it that the money didn’t get spent on liquor, gambling and whores but was saved when the need arose. She saw to it that when her husband came home tired from a day’s work, she tired herself ensured that he had a nice bath and fresh clothes waiting for him, and would greet him with relaxing hot cup of tea. That when there was a need for even more money, and that all her savings and sacrifices couldn’t keep up, she would venture in to the ‘masculine territory’ and earn money for the family, taking care to their every other need at the same time.
She did see to it that while the kids were young, they got a good base of their values and ethics. That when they started learning, she was there to teach them the alphabet and addition-subtraction at home, so these kids would grow up to be doctors, engineers, scientists, lawyers and what not few years down the line, while she still remained a humble mother. She saw to it while they were studying their every need, want and desire was addressed to, no matter how small or how unreasonable. She pulled courage to have tough love when the occasion called for it, when she could not bear to see her kids going astray from the code she taught them. And yet she was the magic medicine, whose kiss would heal more painful wounds in less time than the best of the bitter medicines. And yet she was told that all she did was ‘be in the back seat and take care of the home’.
She was there as the wife who left the comforts and habits of her home to come and live with the family of her husband because she loved him, or that her parents thought he would take care of her. She stood by her husband when the world and his family were against him. She adjusted to his lifestyle, took care of the new family, give birth to a beautiful baby. She was there when he needed someone to understand him, someone to talk to. She was there when he couldn’t argue with his parents, and she had to become the ‘bad’ one. And yet the baby was chosen to be killed because she was a girl and not a boy who would carry on the family’s name.
For every woman you have in your life, be thankful that she is there, and helped you out in ways more than you could imagine, be it through the role of a mother, wife, sister, daughter or friend. It took a woman to give birth to you, and to quote the movie Bruce Almighty, “A single mom who's working two jobs, and still finds time to take her son to soccer practice, that's a miracle.”

This is my entry for Feminspiration- A celebration of women's rights, capabilities and existence

A letter in the present to the future

Tejaswee Rao died some days ago. She is the daughter of the woman known to some of us as the Indian Homemaker after fighting the painful dengue for quite some days. A bright soul, one of her last blog posts was a letter to her future daughter. It did make me think that yes, life is quite unpredictable. We never know that I like anyone else might one fine day just cease to be, whether it may be after a lengthy battle with an affliction, a swift death in some accident or just sleep never wake up in this world again. So like her, I write this letter to you my future love, knowing that maybe you’re somewhere out there reading this. We may not know each other now or maybe are acquaintances ready to get reacquainted as more significantly. Maybe we’re already in love and this is something that I think that you must read because I wrote it for you. This is a dream I had of you one night. I can still remember details of it vividly, except your face. Try as much I may, I still cannot recall how or who you liked like.

I can see a meadow materialize in front of me. There’s a mixture of fresh green and drying yellow grass around. You sit rested along the trunk of a tree with a wide canopy which stands near the centre of the meadow. As you sit in the shade of the tree, pillars of light cut through the leaves and graze the grass around, creating an aura of illustration. Your long hair dances with the currents of the gentle breeze quite like the blades of the grass around you. You’re lost from the world in the book that you’re reading barely noticing that I am walking towards you. You look hauntingly beautiful, drowned in your care free innocence while you’re smiling at something which you’ve read in the book. It’s a weird smile as if something has dawned upon you, making you realize something simple. It’s fitting though, maybe sometimes we’re meant to realize things and not know them. You put the book down momentarily and reach for a cigarette from your pocket. You light it up and let the first puff out quite like the long breaths you let out after inhaling the smells of the fresh flowers. I pause in my approach to just stand there and let the sight consume me when our eyes meet after you turn around to see me standing there. You lips spread in to a smile and you beckon me nodding gesture as I walk briskly and come sit next to you. You keep the book aside and stretch your legs in front of you. I just sit there and gaze in to your eyes for some time when you blow a long puff of smoke in my face. You can’t help but in to a spell of chirpy laughter as I lay down on the grass with my head on your thighs. It’s by default that I stretch out my hand to caress your naked legs while you ruffle my hair with one hand while continuing to smoke with the other. I observe the patterns your lips make as you remove the cigarette to blow some smoke away. “I can’t understand about the poison symbol, smoking doesn’t kill you but it sure does screw you up and increase the probability of death by a hundred folds. Yet people go on to leave the full stretch of their lives while some fight a lost battle with their cancer stricken half dead bodies” is what I speak as continue to gaze at your lips. You stop playing with my hair while I still continue caressing your legs, I observe that your bite your lower lip for some time and while you release that red lip from the between your teeth you smack me affectionately on the head and say “Idiot!”