May 7, 2007

Bombay Meri Jaan

Of the many memories associated with the city, is a recent one of a particularly rainy day about an year and half ago. I was in the city commuting between the eastern and the western suburbs in one of those black 'n' yellow Bajaj RE auto rickshaws. It had been a typical difficult day with water clogging low lying streets and the indefatigable traffic jams near the Andheri railway station. Waiting at a particular spot for the traffic to open up, I noticed a well dressed middle aged man in the auto alongside mine. Dressed in a crisply ironed pale yellow shirt and formal trousers, he appeared well groomed and part of the media community that is omnipresent in those parts of Bombay. As is usual to his likes, and I generalize, the upper two buttons of his shirt were undone.

He took out a cigarette but didn't have a light on him. Asking his auto driver proved futile and he looked around for some help. The driver of another auto behind him happened to catch his eye and this man made a mute signal of raising the smoke held between his fingers. 'Got a match?' With an acknowledgement of the request, the other driver fumbled for a while in his pockets and finally found a matchbox in the 'first aid box' of his vehicle. This man gets out and walks up to the other auto, between the vehicles and under the slight drizzle, lights his cigarette with the match that the driver has lit, expresses his gratitude with a slight nod and walks back to his own auto. In a few seconds the traffic cleared up and we all went our way. Not a word, no please, no thank you. All in the matter of a few seconds.

Apr 25, 2007

Happy B'day!

Happy b'day to you, dear '___'. I don't quite know what to call you. In common terms you would be a 'blog', but you could be a lot of other things too.

Here's to all these words!!

Mine, immaculate dream, made breath and skin,
Ive been waiting for you,

Signed, with a home tattoo,
happy birthday to you
was created for you.


(cant ever keep from falling apart.. at the seams)
(cant I believe youre taking my heart.. to pieces)

Ahh, itll take a little time, might take a little crime
to come undone

Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry

Who do you need?
Who do you love?
When you come undone

Words, playing me deja vu,
like a radio tune I swear Ive heard before,

Chill, is it something real,
or the magic Im feeding off your fingers


(cant ever keep from falling apart.. at the seams)
(can I believe youre taking my heart.. to pieces)

Lost, in a snow filled sky, well make it alright,
to come undone,

Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind -
And blow me in to cry...

- Come Undone
Duran Duran

Apr 21, 2007

Long years ago, I made a Tryst with Destiny

One Djinn to rule them all,
One Djinn to find them.
One Djinn to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them.

It will be one year in a few days. One year of the daily love affair with the autorickshaw. An year of wonder, angst, irritation and surprise at the winds. A place ensconsed in history as much as history ensconsed in India. Of Rajputs and of Sultans, of Nawabs and Mughals, of Britishers and of Punjabis. Of drunken brawls and khadi overcoats. Green'n'yellow buses, flashy Honda CRVs and Government Ambassadors. Of neem trees amidst paved footpaths, smooth gravel and golf courses. Kebabs and chaat, kachori subzi and HCF. Bazaars, behemoth malls and parking lots. Student protests and necrophiliacs. Dhaula Kuan, Mehrauli and Connaught Place. Medical, Safdarjang and Dilli Haat. One year of Delhi.

Haanji.

Apr 14, 2007

Coimbatore Diaries

It isnt time as yet for the sunset and yet the sun has gone into hiding. I can see the silhoutte of the Nilgiri range from the hotel room. It is a good room, with a big window, without any grills to obstruct the view. Somewhere, it is raining. I can sense it in the whiff of moist earth. I wish I could open the windows and let the fresh air in. But they're locked. I can hear nothing but the dull humm of the AC. There are a few birds flying around. The setting sun has cast an orange glow to the sky just above the line of the mountains. It feels like Ooty is calling me. I called my colleague up and asked if he was interested in making the three hour trip to the hillstation at night. We could get up early and explore the place at sunrise. The flight back from Coimbatore is at 230 pm. We would have a couple of hours of daylight before we will need to head back. It is alluring enough. I wish I had a camera, so I could share this view with somebody. I am hoping I can pick a good deal from the KL trip two weeks from now. Yes, this time and view wont repeat itself, but there will be others.

________________________

I asked Sis if she knew the names of our grandparents. Between the both of us, we know the name of only our paternal grandfather. I assume that is because Dad writes it with his name. I suppose that makes ours a dysfunctional family. I like that.

Apr 11, 2007

Go to Bed?

A tired you,
a tired me,
words strewn across
the bed of our Emotions

Changed every noon
fresh every evening
crumpled the next dawn,
the white sheets of Hope

Here now, gone again,
flitting conversations, varied experiences
Softened, over time,
the pillows of Companionship

Short and sweet
Long and hollow
Still there, every day,
the elixir of Sleep

Mar 24, 2007

Check, My Mate

Our queens and our knights,
squares of black n white
Alert they must stand,
walls, they must they gaurd
Illusions bland

A wall of pawns
Your side and mine
One move yours
one chance mine,
Questions everywhere

Straight, sideways
white on black
black on black
and a hop in between,
Silent whispers

Someone will break
Something will give
Until we encircle
and ambush the king,
My Queen

Play the game,
all over again
Shall we?

I close my eyes
only for a moment
and the moments gone
All my dreams
pass before my eyes, a curiousity
dust in the wind
all we are is dust in the wind

Same old song
just a drop of water
in the endless sea
All we do
crumbles to the ground
though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
all we are is dust in the wind

So dont hang on
nothing lasts forever
but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money
won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind,
all we are is dust in the wind
dust in the wind

- Dust In The Wind
Cat Stevens

Mar 20, 2007

kya bataaon maa kahan hoon mai
yahan udney ko mere khula aasman hai
tere kisson jaisa bola salona
jahan hai yahan sapno wala
meri patang ho befikar udd rahi hai, maa
dor koi loote nahin, beech se kaate na

kaise tujhko dikhaun yahaan kya hai
maine jharne se paani, maa, tod ke piya hai
guccha guccha kai khwabon ka uchhal ke chuwa hai
chhaya liya bhali dhoop hai yahan hai
naya naya sa hai roop yahan

yahan sab kuch hai maa, phir bhi
lage bin tere mujhko akela

- Lukka Chhupi
Rang de Basanti

Thought of these lyrics, caused by a bag that remains unpacked at this midnightly hour.
And she always forgets towels...

Mar 18, 2007

Gabbar Gabbar

aao kaalia, kya khabar laaye ho?
sarkar, hamara appraisal hua,
theek thaak hua
hmm, kitne aadmi the?
chaar the, sarkar
woh chaar, aur tum ek, bahut na insafi
magar sarkaar, accha feedback diya
humse poocha, tumhe raat ko macchar to nahi pareshaan karte?
humne kaha, macchar to nahi, kuch khatmal sone nahi dete
pata chala humein unse communicate karne ki zaroorat hai,
khatmal bhai humein pareshaan na kare,
aur yeh bataaya gaya ki microsoft excel unki bhasha hai
phir humein anti-khatmal spray diya gaya,
for temporary relief

woh bhi 20% extra!!!

:D
p.s. apologies for mixing up names in the sacred sholay script, I really didn't care enough...:D

Mar 7, 2007

You Too!!!!

She was 'Trixie2' at first.
Then she fancied being 'Mary Jane'
She also went a little 'Left of the Middle'
Until 'Her Karma Ran Over My Dogma'
And somewhere 'If at first you don't succeed, skydiving isn't for you'

Well, I do hope you succeed the very first time at this now.

Congratuations Sim. Love Ya!

Mar 4, 2007

Love Mongrel

He is
a love mongrel

This door
and that alley

This crumb
and that

This winter
and howl

This foot
and that kick

From this street
and another

Love mongrel
He

Feb 28, 2007

Here Comes The Rain Again...

Yesterday
On the way to office, while I was waiting at a redlight, a dark grey Bentley glides by like a silent jungle cat and parks itself on my left. Underneath the simplistic body and chrome, I could feel the pulsating throb of its bull engine and what it was capable of. At the same time, it could give me the experience of luxury in as small a space as that, wood panel finish, 6 cd changer and all that jazz. I turned my head the other side. A white grizzly bear with the initials Lexus Lx470 rumbles by and comes to rest on my other side, fumes coming out of its exhaust pipe, while the stunning offroader flirted with the smooth Delhi gravel. I move on ahead. The light on the Rajpath signal is green and yet the traffic does not move. I curse under my breath, its going to be late again. And then from the road emerging from Rashtrapati Bhavan, with a scream of red flashing beacons, a convoy of 8 white Toyota Corollas whiz by. Clock precision driving, each car within 3 feet of the one ahead, doing 60kph, each carrying some smug looking firangs. With a sigh, I turn to look ahead, beyond the driver of the green and yellow Bajaj CNG auto-rickshaw I was in.

He has a sadist streak in Him.


Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you

Here comes the rain again
Raining in my head like a tragedy
Tearing me apart like a new emotion
Oooooh
I want to breathe in the open wind
I want to kiss like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you

So baby talk to me
Like lovers do

Here Comes The Rain Again
- Annie Lennox

Feb 23, 2007

Today, something died

a hope
a relation
an emotion
a bond
a desire

a lifetime

With a flick of my finger I cleaned the speck of dust that chose to sit on my sleeve.
Something that had been building up over a long time just crashed under its own weight.
Noiselessly

Today, something died.

Feb 9, 2007















This pic defines the time

(click to enlarge)

Feb 8, 2007

I have a 'booze coaster' from one unforgettable evening with friends at TCs in Delhi, obviously used as a tea coaster in office now. It was one of the media nights at the place and 'The Doors - Live' sponsored by VH1 was being screened. The coaster, autographed very lovingly by friends who I was with that night, has that very very recognizable black n white image of Jim Morrison. Along the edge is a quote attributed to him - 'When you make your peace with authority, you become authority'. This, from someone, who apparently died of an OD.

I also had two car stickers from that night. One, with the same face, said 'Riders on the Storm' that I stuck on the board in Office. It was taken off by somebody. I can't figure out why. The other had U2's Bono saying 'Things You Cant Leave Behind', which I stuck on my travel bag. It came off somewhere too.

Feb 5, 2007

On the lonesome train journey back, I kept staring out of the window. Passengers got up, others got down, I kept staring out, watching the sun make its journey across half the sky. Somewhere on the same train, there were two acquaintances from back home, but I wish they wouldn't disturb my space. My space in that overcrowded second class train compartment and that long distance train journey. The weather changed from the hot humidity of the Nizammudin railway station, across the heart of the country, into the western hinterland. I had some packaged food, lebanese falafel, packed from the hotel where I had had two baths. A lady was sitting on the opposite chair, a working woman and yet the pallu of her maroon saree draped over her head. She looked older than she must have been, a leather strap wristwatch on her hand. She kept staring out too. Perhaps, she was going back home from where she had been working, to someone waiting back home. Her creased forehead and the wrinkles besides her eye kept speaking to me in an unspoken language. I should have asked her if she would share my dinner. She would have probably given me that little smile that rose up on her face once in a while, while she was staring out of the window. And politely refused.

I didn't. She got down a few stations later.
I resumed staring out.
I hope she was going home to someone.

On a wagon bound for market
There's a calf with a mournful eye
High above him there's a swallow
Winging swiftly through the sky

How the winds are laughing
They laugh with all the their might
Laugh and laugh the whole day through
And half the summer's night

Donna Donna Donna Donna

"Stop complaining", said the farmer
Who told you a calf to be
Why don't you have wings to fly with
Like the swallow so proud and free

How the winds are laughing
They laugh with all the their might
Laugh and laugh the whole day through
And half the summer's night

Donna Donna Donna Donna

Calves are easily bound and slaughtered
Never knowing the reason why
But whoever treasures freedom
Like the swallow has learned to fly

How the winds are laughing
They laugh with all the their might
Laugh and laugh the whole day through
And half the summer's night

Donna Donna Donna Donna

- Donna Donna
Joan Baez

Jan 24, 2007

Coincidences of No Consequence

She lies on the cold floor
And yet there is a smile
Ignorant of things life
Life,
In a little white cap

A soul is formed
Or is it still a foetus
How much
Love
How much without

Conversations broken apart
Torn from You and Me
Long distance intercourse
and intellectual whores,
so very common

A flight over the mountains
Stand at this window
this familiar twilight
and the following neons
Thoughts spanning eons
in the blink of an eye

Long lost memories
3 flavors of friendship
Bonds of a borrowed life
now spread
across different dreams

And yet,
there is laughter,
there is mirth,
there is hope
Spaces being filled
Little by little
by little
by little...

Jan 16, 2007

Pune

Its been 9 months

1. Thousand Oaks
2. Kiva Lounge
3. Joshi Wadewale
4. Sinhgadh on a bike
5. German Bakery
6. Go to College meet the juns
7. Meet Muddu and tell him he's kicking the college back to the stone age (Ok, I wont exactly do that)
8. Sutta at NCC canteen, music at the Council Room
9. Drive along the Race Course
10. The Pune University campus, stroll along its jogging track
11. Take the local train trip to Lonavala (28 bucks round trip)
12. Law College Barista

Hush!!!
Only here till Sunday...

Jan 13, 2007

A witch's cauldron,
silent for long
Until she decided
a storm

A dash of emotion here
a pinch of circumstances
in between
Add it all in one go
and stir it
round and round

In a whirl
I'm moving,
A rollercoaster
Of heady fun
and the intense
Of flying in abandon
and yet
belong
like never before

Belong,
To those eyes
when they speak
Of the self
And of the time
Of us
And of the place.


Bits from the past...

Jan 1, 2007

Of role models

I don't have a role model. There is absolutely no one I can look up to and say, hey that's the kind of life I'd like to live. And every passing day, it becomes all the more evident that I won't have one either. The older you go, the less you wonder and the less you look up to something with a kind of worship, that I think is what a role model about. I don't have a father figure in my life and this isn't cos I was born up in some kind of twisted environment. I had a perfectly normal and happy childhood, a satisfying teenage and young adulthood hasn't been disappointing either. But sometimes, I do yearn to feel that kind of an awe that one feels when one reads or hears about their role models, find their traits so appealing that it makes you blind to other equations.

Yes, at different points in time I have looked up to people and have admired them. In the yore days of cricket, I idolised Sachin for his cricketing abilities and his attitude off the field. And there was Michael Jordan, in the basketball years. Va va voom. I liked Shahrukh for the intensity he carried. That man supposedly stood on the edge of the sea of Mumbai and declared that he would rule this city. And he did. I liked Amitabh for a while for the ease with which he fitted into the role of the messiah of thousands. I liked Robin Williams for his ability to bring about humor in mundane things of life, a glint of sorrow hidden in the twinkle of his eyes. For a while I was besotted with the writing syle of Erich Segal and the characters he created. Some human, some criminal and all of them just 'normal' and 'unique' in their own way. I was fascinated with Ayn Rand and her ideas for a while, till I learnt a few things more. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of Atlas Shrugged and I still haven't finished that goddam book. And there have been musicians who created masterpieces out of everyday sounds. A particular song means so much at those times that you could drown yourself off in ecstasy and reach a different level without having to get doped out. Movie makers of the like of Spielberg who weaved magic with stories wrapped into a miniscule time frame of 2 hours but lasted thoughts of a million volts through every crevice of your brain. Each of these people, from areas that most people I assume have icons of their own, loved each bit of what they did and gave their being in as passionate a way as possible. Living life doing what you love and being good at it plus make tons of money from it to enjoy a few good things in life, was and is appealing. Perhaps too idealistic. Or too crassly commercial. Either way you look at it. Is that all you worry about when thousands die in the crossfire in Mogadishu?

Most people probably look up to their father or mother for an example. I still havent understood either of them and the time and life seems to be slipping away before I can do that. They have been the most awesome parents one can have and even though I can't figure out the dynamics of the relationship that they share, that thing that rankles deep at times, I have still not grown up with hostile feelings towards institutions such as marriage. I was never told 'you cannot', just often, 'you should evaluate before you do'. I have had the travails of a brother sister relationship, beginning from indifference, to rivalry, to affection and to outright honest love. Sis has become of the most trusted friends of recent years and I know she will remain that way, even though we are different like chalk and cheese. Blood runs thicker than water after all. I have the best memories of him, of him waking me up in the most tenderest ways a child can be woken up. I remember snuggling close to her in those energetic early teen years when I couldn't sleep for long hours. Yet I also remember the unease with which they tried to stand close to each other for a photograph in the midst of some tea garden in Kodaikanal, I think it was, at relatives insistence. But I don't look up to them and think, wow, I could live like that. I know I won't. Yes, I have probably learnt a few things about raising kids from them, but that is a thought for later.

There have been other people I have been fascinated with. Some of them ended up being very good friends and we've had some pretty interesting intellectual intercourses. Mutually pleasurable, I'd like to believe. I liked the attitude each of them carried, towards a lot of things that mattered. I love each of them. But that admiration has never exceeded beyond that level, has never reached into an unexplained wonder and turned into an example I could emulate. There have been teachers that I looked up to. Some lived up to that admiration beyond the initial wide eyed amazement, some didn't. One of them gave up everything and left to live in an ashram. In search of God, so it seemed. It could have been very attractive a lifestyle, except that it probably happened at the wrong time in my life. At that very same moment, I was learning varied meanings of love. I was meeting the same God in a different way.

Maybe I am too grown up for it now. Maybe that what you call 'suspension of disbelief' in order to be able to have a kiddish joy at something has ebbed. Maybe I will find someone in the corporate world that I can follow. I have been just a few months into the money earning mode. Sometimes I think I ask too much. Or maybe not.

Or as I have often been told, I think too much. ;-)

And like all times, I think I'm going to regret this post at some point in time. Poof!

Dec 25, 2006

While going through the laptop, I found that I had a few videos that I had taken with my digicam. Earlier in the year, in an effort to organize data on my laptop when I was running out of space to store more, I had deleted quite a few movies. It was such a mistake to do that. I wish I had stored each and every one of them. And even though they are crude low res movies, they are sometimes so much better than photographs. Does God have cctvs installed somewhere up in the sky, the recordings I can access. :)



It is no arty farty movie. Just one of the bonfire we lit at that time. And it was sometime winters in Pune, we were freeeeezing. Taken on one of those countless bike rides in the middle of the night, to the middle of nowhere. A bunch of guys, from different places, with differences that didn't matter. What did was that we had a bike, or atleast a place to ride pillion behind someone. Some of the best times of college, these trips, and with some experiences. We called this place 'Silent Valley', even though there wasn't any valley. Just a rivulet that had water only when it rained, in the middle of nowhere alright. The road that led to it was so tracherous that God forbid if we were to have a punctured wheel or some such thing, we'd be royally jacked (bikes dont carry spares!) it was so off the taken road. And there was this time, when more than half of us were scared shit out of our brains because of a wild jungle fire we encountered atop a hill. It was an eerie sight, like somewhere on another planet altogether.

Ps: You could see it with the audio, or without it. :D

Dec 23, 2006

Like mutating chimera
these thoughts multiply
The march of ants
heedless to the time
the place,
to the 'I am'

Oozes out of my head,
At times
arsenic,
At times,
elixir
And sometimes,
just plain crap

Such
is time

Dec 13, 2006

I flew a kite this Sunday. A little white one, plain, serene. With a pink thread. And away it flew in the gusty breeze of the December evening. I let the string loose from the reel. Fed it with memories from a time long gone. There must have been lots of them, for the kite went far and high. Too small to bear the burden, I'd thought, but I was wrong. Until it got entangled with another kite. A furious tug and the battle was won, and up it soared high and mighty. A celebration too soon. Along came another one, big. I tried to get under it but it was too late. I let my kite go. It was too weak and tired from the first fight. To a faraway land it went. I must have been holding on too tight. Open my fist and just let it go. Happy!

Dec 12, 2006

At the wedding, they kept asking me when I was planning to tie the knot myself. Finally, I asked them 'What are your plans NOW?'.
That shut them up.

Dec 10, 2006

Its not fair, its not fair. Everything that they taught you at school was wrong. Bloody wrong.

Disclaimer

Every photograph on this blog (except the title background) has been taken by me. . . To view more, click on any of them to go to my Flickr page (link on sidebar too). Feel free to use them the way you like, no issues, though I wouldn't like it if someone passes them off as original work. Ta!