The wit, the nerve, the steel in you...
You rule, you serve, your kind are few...
No words, no thoughts, no meaning to look...
No regrets, no joys, no finds are new.

I searched for words between my thoughts,
Some spaces I could sight.
But all my thoughts so tightly packed,
I could not see the light.

Chains of thoughts and tightly wound,
They stifled all the words.
I sifted corners of my mind
But confusion came in herds…

To the two of you…

While I've known only one of them, this one goes out to both Ricci and Rorie... And someday I may have the joy of knowing them both like one! A small trinket from a dilli friend who couldn't make it for the wedding across the seas...

I would say I would sing
If the words would ring
I would whisper I would shout
If the words went about
From the skies or the vales
From the seas through to Wales
A congrats and much love!

Regret not being there to say that last line in person!

My dearest sister gets tangled up in a knot tomorrow... Just thought will let you all know! Lots of love to everyone and more!

So much time has slipped away...

...and I kept no notes! None at all. Mind's a blank now. So I'll just do what I usually do, which is pick up a book from the shelf randomly, then open a random page and put down the randomly read words...

A word that is read but not thoroughly understood is a word that is dead. Unless completely intelligible meaning flies from the spoken or written work to the mind we are left unprpfited. How much more then should we learn to give careful attention to the words we use in important study and serious discussion.

Ouch! That was too random. It's from Paul Brunton's Hidden Teaching Beyond Yoga (page number... damn! I slipped it shut.). I stumbled into Brunton about 8/10 years back with his A Search in Secret India, which was fantastic (a lot of it seemingly unbelievable).

But it was one of those phases (they come every now and then) when I wanted to tap into some secret source of energy/intelligence/powers of the mind. All a fantasy world really, sort of escapism, where I wanted to do much without any hard work involved. Like going back to school (early years at that!), with the current (as in current when I used to imagine so and not necessarily now) levels of awareness/intelligence and then show off to the rest of what I knew. How amazing to write a strongly worded letter on the demerits of corporal punishment, the criminality involved, a psychological analysis of the teacher and predictions on what the victim may become. Reading newspapers, the politics and business section at that, and asking elders what they thought of the government's policies (actually, I can't do that even now!) and doing so many other things that would be so surprising coming from a 9/10 year old. Such was the sickness that led me to read tons on how the yogis could do this and that. Comes from a secret (not anymore!) desire to be a performer. Of entertaining. Of being applauded!

But I know the foolishness of such daydreams and I'm happy to report they don't occur with alarming frequency anymore. Perhaps I'm getting cured. Perhaps I'm getting sick. Oh! It's a fun life any which way!

So back to Brunton Sahib. I've never been able to find his A Search in Secret Egypt, which is a decent read too I've heard. He was a British journalist who (I think after quitting journalism) roamed in India (among many other places) in search of mystics. I would certainly read him very differently now than I did about a decade back!

What must remain...

The week that was...

There's still a day left to it but I thought it couldn't be too different from the others...

This is how it went:

First the row started by one of the communities (Gujjars) in Rajasthan who want to receive the 'Scheduled Tribe' status to avail of the quota benefits ('affirmative action' in India where Scheduled Tribes (STs), Scheduled Castes (SCs) and Other Backward Classes get preference in education and jobs). It's an extremely politically sensitive issue here (as it would be anywhere in the world I suppose). But Rajasthan, an otherwise rather peaceful state, burned for a week. Some 25 people killed. The Supreme Court of India called it a 'national shame', not that it would've been otherwise if the Supreme Court hadn't said so.

The rioting had spread to the borders of Delhi too. As I took a right turn to my office on Monday, I found the road blocked by policemen. So I took a detour. Some colleagues couldn't make it too work at all. But the work went on without really anyone being able to pay any attention to the events outside. By the evening we heard things were better and that a truce had been called. And as I drove back home I saw remnants of a burnt tyre and thought how disconnected, how uninvolved, I was with what was happening. It's like we're living in different worlds in the same country. And then I got caught up in traffic and forgot about it.

The day before was very upsetting. I reached home at about 10.30pm and saw my sister standing outside the door trying to feed something to one of the stray dogs near our house. He kept crying and couldn't move. It was a pathetic sight. We called some 10 numbers but none had a 24hour service. Finally found a number of some guy who's not studied much but is fond of animals and has learnt 'veterinary things' on the job. He gave two shots of pain killers to this poor little dog and we put him in my car and drove some 35kms away to a hospital. There the vet looked and said "suspected rabies", we'll have to put him to sleep. I asked if he was sure and he said they'll keep him under observation for 2/3 days. By the time I left this duration was being referred to as 1 day and I had a sad feeling they'll put him to sleep the minute we turned our backs. But the dog was immobilized in the lower half and seemed so much in pain that I wondered if that would be better for his own sake. I didn't have the heart to call again to find out what happened...

Last night I picked up a book of short stories in Hindi and read a bit before sleeping. Was reading a Hindi book after such a long time. Was refreshing to take in a new script. Before sleeping I promised myself that I'd swim in the morning today with a friend but all that happened this morning was that I instead swam in a small pool that was new to me; warmed up with funny dances before plunging in; people asked me if they should wear a cap for they had long hair; didn't remember what I answered; found the pool being in the basement was rather dingy and depressing; and finally figured out it was a bloody stupid dream when I started swimming the fly…

Today was rather unexciting except that the weekend feels closer.

Lying on my desk are 'Three Colours Blue' and 'Jeux Interdits', both of which I think I'll be returning to the library without seeing them.

Well somewhere in the middle of nothing I managed to read Amy Tan's 'The Joy Luck Club', which was mesmerising...

As I begin to sleep...

The words, they come
The thoughts, they move
They halt and break
Then join and take
A flight, a ride
A foggy glide…

Then words, they go

The thoughts, they fade
A stillness inside, silently wakes
As the dream I touch
Begins to break…

a brilliant sun,
a glowing light,
a bit of you,
a dizzy height;

a lilting tune,
a tilting sight,
a different hue,
a fleeting night;

and then, a goodbye…

Follow up anxiety...

My dad works for the government so we were shifting places every couple of years in our (my sister and I that is) growing up and college years. Now work ensures we stay put in a city while he still moves around quite a bit.

We got it from those early years I think. This urge to keep moving. Just when we started to settle in a place, along came his posting. But we never complained about it. It was always so exciting to be in a new city with new people around. The joy of packing up (well, there was this sadness of losing half our belongings in the process as well) and the joy of unpacking. That lovely sense of change. That excitement of a new exploration in the offing. And we took a little from all places we went. And left behind bits of ourselves.

Which is why I was earlier a reluctant tourist and longed instead to be a traveller. A superfluous distinction perhaps. A fleeting glimpse of places and people was just not enough. I wanted to live every place I went for a while. To pick up the dialects. Observe and absorb the ways of the people there. I never kept notes of any of the places I visited which I regret so much now.

But now even being a tourist seems a luxury. Feels like life is slipping away, while the entire world remains unseen. And so now when I visit a place I feel the anxiety of not being able to soak it all in. I gape with eyes wide open. Try to remember every building, every road, every roundabout, every person, every stray dog, every restaurant and indeed every details of the place I visit. And cheaply click photos like if I didn't that place would vanish not just from my memory but from the face of the earth. And I talk to whoever comes my way. About everything and nothing.

I think I'm always trying to make up for not belonging to that place and almost feel a peculiar sense of guilt for belonging elsewhere (now this 'elsewhere' is elusive too!).

But I think it's an affliction. A sickness of sorts. A lifetime is surely not enough to see and experience the whole wide world. So why feel anxious about these things!? People who have never stepped outside of their houses or villages or cities or countries are not lesser beings for that. If I'm destined not to travel all that much, then so be it. I should thank my stars and/or God for whoever I am and for 'wherever' I am. So that's how I keep trying to rationalize my situation. And fail miserably.

PS: Come to think of it, I feel this anxiety even when I'm browsing around in a music shop or bookshop or library.

PS: Jill asked, and set me thinking all this.

To think again...

what do I think
why do I think
or do I think at all?

I think of this
but cannot think
the thoughts that seem to stall.

Right now, I'm neither a traveller nor a tourist.

But I don't mind being either as long as it means not stopping at one place for too long... And I've been here long enough.

I'm restless.

Emily... wherever I may find her...

And this was found with joy untold...

I felt a cleaving in my mind
As if my brain had split;
I tried to match it, seam by seam,
But could not make them fit.

The thought behind I strove to join
unto the thought before,
But sequence ravelled out of reach

Like balls upon a floor

Emily Dickinson's 'I felt a cleaving in my mind'.

Lost in silence...

On the silent mode. And lost forever. Diminishing the otherwise strong faith in the inherent goodness of every taxi-wallah, every auto-rickshaw-wallah, every bus conductor, indeed every soul in charge of, or hanging around, all means of transport my father's been on. He was proud, up until this moment, of having tested this goodness (as a matter of chance, not choice) and happily reporting a positive result at every instance of his mobile-phone unexpectedly finding its way back to him hours after he would leave it 'there somewhere'. It was as if he planned to lose it but loved to find his plans come to naught. And every time my mum and my sister would annoyingly say '…one day it'll not come back ok. You're just lucky some decent guy found it', in a manner that suggested they perhaps prayed sincerely for such misfortune!

I only knew that when it'd finally go (I always hoped it wouldn't but believed it would) the sense of loss would not be borne with a fitting sense of equanimity for the simple reason that he was no longer a creature of the pen and none of those numbers were jotted in any diary unlike in the old days. He rues it now. This time his plan succeeded. My mum's and sister's prayers answered. And it's a joyless moment for everyone. More regrettably, the verdict now is- 'what's the world coming to… this would not have happened in the days of the yore'! Of course it wouldn't have. Who had cells to lose in those days!

Aged (albeit not matured) beyond his years Mr. Inal... This was halfway to the Indo-China border from Sikkim.

And Emily said...

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public , like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

Emily Dickinson's I'm Nobody! Who Are You?

PS: To Emily, from an admiring 'blog'!

I like Threptin biscuits (the regular flavour). I always have since I was about 3 years old. My earliest memory of them is from Agra (of the Taj Mahal fame yes) where we stayed for 2 years from 1980 to '82. The box hasn't changed at all I think. And I like it that they call them diskettes.

A tin lies right within reach as I write this. An unlikely reminder of the past. Mum said her grandfather liked it too... the past just got older!

Peace in small steps...

Rumtek again... where peaceful souls abound...

There goes... my pauvre petite weekend...

A fraught weekend ahead. A life shorter by another weekend. Very tacky perhaps but just thinking about it makes Floyd jump up in my head… shorter of breath and one day closer to death…

So what if I'll be working the whole day long on a Saturday and on a Sunday? It wouldn't be the first time (which actually should, and does, make it more depressing?)!

But a wise man said to me toady that it's just a weekend. And I'd like to agree... for my own sake. Lovely defence mechanisms are conjured up!

In other news:

'Delhi needs more swimming pools' says a frustrated swimmer banging into someone or the other every three strokes. To no one in particular.

'What're you doing to the weather God?' asked a man who found the one-day-I'll-give-you-hail and the-oven-the-next-day game being played on Delhi slightly amusing. Or perhaps this man should ask the entire person-kind (himself too, if either of the two words are applicable) this question.

Finished The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. What a beautiful work!

iPod's on shuffle again. The Dead sang love is love not fade away and I wondered if that's true. Then Dido did I'm No Angel and I wondered nothing. Simon 'n Garfunkel sang a Poem on the Underground Wall but I was restless in anticipation and the song (much like the train) was gone suddenly. Don't remember much else of what played but considering I was on the road for nearly 2 hours in total today, there must've been a lot.

A funny thing happens on the shuffle, which is regarding this BBC Eyewitness series I've got on the pod from the 1900 to 2000. Odd things (odd-pod) play up from this series and sometimes it feels like being pulled into a completely different time and space (all depends upon how much traffic there is on the road at that time actually). Some of the sound-recordings come from as far back as in the 1910s! Oh! The lovely static! I'll try jotting about some interesting ones if they come up and I remember them later. They're of all kinds: the Falkland wars between Britain and Argentina; the Ist World War; the IInd; Princess Di; Thatcher; Major; Lockerbie tragedy; partition of India; control of the government on the BBC; pop music's influence in the 60s; affluence in some decades; poverty in others; Sarajevo; George Orwell on something; Tony Blair on another; sinking of the Titanic; racism; John Lennon; etc etc.

It was an unhappy coincidence however that maybe just 2 days before the shooting in Virginia Tech the shuffle played a series' segment on the Hungerford killings in the UK in the late '80s where someone shot 17 people including his mother and then himself. It is baffling how the human brain can function (or dysfunction).

On a brighter note (and I've not had the best of days actually so this took some 2 minutes on the watch to figure out; actually 5 and counting)… the music's still playing and books still await to be cradled and I'm hoping to watch Majid Majidi's magical film Children of Heaven again tomorrow!

Goodnight to some of the world and good morning to some. Aaftah-noons 'n evenings somewhere too!

Someone said... circa 170 (yes, A.D. 170!)...

It's normal to feel pain in your hands and feet, if you're using your feet as feet and your hands as hands. and for a human being to feel stress is normal- if he's living a normal human life.

And if it's normal, how can it be bad?

From Marcus Aurelius' 'Meditations' (translation by Gregory Hays).

Can't say I agree but just the thought, that this could well have been said yesterday, seems so strange!

Books & Bullets...

Rumtek Monastry... I found guns so out of place here!

Schoolward bound...

Kids in Tsongmo (Sikkim) off to school on a rainy day.

S and I passed our 3 sem French exam at the Alliance!! Yippie!!

Dogs life...

Just after I posted that last one, heard one of the stray dogs in our locality whimper. He was hit by a car earlier today but it didn't look all that serious. We thought the car just nicked him a bit or something. So took some biscuits and roti for him but the minute you approach, he limps away to a distance. Finally just left it all there. And now here's hoping he'll eat and that it's not all that serious.

Wish they led a safer life. But we're in a city where many people live likewise sans any security, so it's too much to ask for I guess.

Nothing new. Upsetting all the same.

Random

Nothing to report except:

There was a hail storm again today and LASHING rain this time as opposed to just lashing rain last time.

Got some jasmines/chameli at a traffic signal. Rupees 10 for 3 strings. They're some 10/15 in a string I think. Suddenly remembered Jill had suggested a snap. But no camera unfortunately!

Swam in rather murky waters. Kept the elbow up as much as possible. Few laps down it became a bit difficult.

Got a French exam tomorrow. It's midnight and I've yet to commence preparations! Mais non!

S was upset she didn't get flowers on her birthday. A day late is useless. It's another matter she was too busy to meet. But they could be delivered. And so on and so forth…

Nick Drake floated in the car a lot and I faded in and out. Caught 'hadn't had the time to choose…', then caught some traffic. Then 'gonna tell him all I can…', and then a call took my mind away.

One of my closest friend got engaged on Monday. Getting married in July but I may (actually won't) be able to make it. So happy for her. Wish I could be there. She'll say this won't be the first time I let her down… And, sadly, she'll be right.

People spoke of marriage in the office today. 2/3 people there scheduled to tie (or get entangled in?) the knot soon. Got the feeling it was being treated as an inevitable and not a choice. Funny, but when you're going out with someone you feel quite married already in a way… But only 'in a way' and one hears it's a different ball game when you actually married. It's a game?

So that's how it was. A random day.

Swimming in the rain...

Swimming in the rain... what a glorious feeling I'm happy again!

A hail storm of sorts and lashing rain for a bit. Just what was needed to cool down the otherwise boiling Delhi.

Happened without warning just when I turned right from underneath the Nehru Place flyover towards the pool. Had made a point to leave work early (how cruel times are that we call 8.30pm early!) to make it in time for a quick swim before the pool shut.

My first thought was how I'll swim now? Then realized it'll be great for the pool shouldn't be too crowded!

Well, it was neither here nor there (which is a great Bill Bryson travelogue!). Quite a few people were swimming. But I managed fine.

Had tender coconut on the way out, which is now a ritual. Chatted with the vendor of here and there (which too has become a ritual!). And then waded through the traffic back home realizing I do some 40 kilometres nearly everyday because of the detour I take for swimming. All worth it nevertheless!

The Namesake beckons… as does some music…

Don't think twice it's alright...

This one goes out especially to Jill!!!

She bestowed upon me the honour of mentioning my blog in a post on her site. What does that mean?

Firstly, it means I'm really very touched and so very grateful to her. Then it means perhaps that we all cut across so many barriers in our lives like geographical and culture distances to find common ground, or like Jill puts it, 'inside we’re all pretty much the same!'

This honour comes with 3 rules, which are that I've got to a) link 5 blogs that make me think; b) link to this post so that people can easily find the origin of this info; and finally c) proudly display the award with a link to this post!

Jill I'm seeking your permission to sidestep the first rule since I only read 2 blogs that make me think and make me so very happy: These are your blog and my friend Faizaan's. Faizaan bhai was the one to encourage me to write and in fact his was one of the first blogs I ever read and still check everyday for any new post (one look at his layout and you'll see where I'm coming from!). He was two years my senior in school (we were in a boarding) although I probably remember much more of him from those years than he does. We got in touch again recently after maybe some 12 years or so. And that too through his blog our old computer teacher told me about! I'm simply happy at what time has told me...

Jill's blog was pure serendipity! I don’t quite remember now how I stumbled into it but vaguely recollect looking for online dictionaries and word-game sites and perhaps typing 'wordsmith' in the process. And voila! I found a 'wordsmith extraordinaire'! Since then I've been a regular visitor. I enjoy it so very much. It's like when you meet a complete stranger and feel some connection. How, and what, she writes is for anyone reading this post to explore (and then smile!). As for me, Jill's blog is sort of like a Tiffany's I go to for breakfast!

Jill, till the time I don’t have 5 names on my list, I think it would be improper to display the award. You've brought up a mention in your post and it doesn't get bigger for me!

So my two winners are Jill and Faizaan bhai!

Jill, thank you once again ! :-)

Our new librarian, amidst sorting out the tons of law books from cartons in the new office, said it finally- "How boring these books are!?" And I said, "Now imagine our lives!"

Aye, there's the rub...

It is a common saying that dog eats dog. The man who said it first did not know dogs. Dogs do not eat dogs. They work in packs and a pack animal is not a cannibal. It depends upon its fellows to bring down its prey and being dependent has the morality of a social being, an instinctive morality but morality for all that. Man, on the other hand, has not natural or instinctive morality. The process of history proves to the contrary and the history of religion reinforces it. If there were any natural morality in man there would be no need for religion or indeed for law. And yet without morality man would not have survived. Another conundrum, gentlemen; science destroyed the belief in God upon which morality depended for its source; science has likewise substituted the means for man's destruction; in short we are without that moral sense that has saved us from extinction in the past and in possession of the means of extinguishing ourselves in the future. A bleak future, gentlemen…

From Tom Sharpe's 'The Throwback'. Black humour… at its blackest!

Two (of the many) things that I find disconcerting...

1. When a child doesn’t smile back at me.

2. When a dog barks at me.

Both thankfully don't happen all that often! But when they do happen it makes me feel there's something wrong with me. For both, I think, judge people right. And that's probably because they don’t intend judging!

And if I were a train I'd be late again…

So much to say and time just runs out. It keeps adding and I don’t know if I'll say some things at all now…

But what's been on my mind… is where I see myself few years from now: tried all professional responses to this but then just think of how much better I should be swimming!

On my bedside is… a Tom Sharpe…

On my agenda is… to build one!

And the music plays on shuffle these days.

Hi!

Between some 70 odd page contracts…

Had this irresistible urge to say hello to myself…

Hope to do 50 yards of fly soon! Getting slightly better but Shweta says shoulders not flexible enough...

Back to the contracts…

If I were a swan I'd be gone... la la la

Si j'etais...

Struggling with the conditionnel present... Got stuck with some opinion that had to be sent to the client rather urgently so had to miss my swim. Feels awful. I wish I could swim somewhere even now at half past midnight...

Still Crawling!

Debs and I down to 13 strokes for a breadth! Him going easy and me somewhat cheating with elbows showing up only after I've crossed half the distance! But the water feels good...

The fly remains elusive!

Time flies...

and everyone knows that...

But sometimes you feel it very strongly. And that's what I'm feeling right now. The time that's gone seemed to have flown past much faster than the time to come...

Limited by awareness...

I was thinking sometime ago how it was when I was a kid. I knew no limitations. And growing up was, amongst other things, a gradual discovery of those limitations. Some real, but perhaps most imposed falsely by my experiences.

The first instance that I clearly remember of being surprised by what I could not do was when I joined a boarding school in the 5th Grade and ran a mini cross-country in the first few days. We had to take a round of an inner circular road of the school, starting at our boarding house and ending there as well.

I think I sprinted the first few minutes with a sense of belief that I could keep going like that the whole distance and beat everyone. Then after a few hundred metres the tiredness set in. Unexpected development this. I dropped to a slower pace. Then the legs started giving away. Slower still now. Then went out of breath. So a jogging pace. And then, at least that's how I think it was, an embarrassing sense of awareness struck- other boys were surely faster. And they could run longer (at that age I did not know what stamina or endurance actually meant). There were many others behind of course. But I only cared for those ahead. And I sort of decided I could not do long distance (in the days to follow I afforded this status to short distance as well).

There it was. The first sense of limitation. There were of course instances before that where I would not have performed as well as others. It could be anything- sports or studies. But until this point I never thought of not coming ‘first’ as a limitation. It was something I never cared to understand. Maybe because I didn't know what winning meant either. Or perhaps thought that coming on top was all a matter of chance.

Unfortunately, I understood limitation to be an unalterable reality for a long time. So from that point onwards I never really finished a long distance run in time at all. It was only much later when I was a senior at school that I decided to give it my all. I practised hard. I thought perhaps within my limitations too there could be a higher potential that I am missing. So I decided to touch the end of the spectrum of that limitation. And after days of dogged practise when the day of the run came I started with an uneasy mind. But I ran ok. And managed to hit the top 20 in a 10km run. A purely average performance by the standards of any decent athlete I agree. But surely a big change from the previous 7 years of not finishing the race. All the same, I felt I could do better. And I saw the bubble of my limitation grow beyond the boundaries I had set earlier.

And I realized this- if I wanted to, I could do it. Most things possibly. But I seldom tried very hard. And that was my only limitation. It perhaps still is.

What is music?

That's the question crossing my mind again and again over the last few days.

What is it? And how about those who cannot hear? Saw 'Le Pays Des Sourd' (Land of the Deaf), a French documentary by Nicolas Philibert, adding to the curiosity. The first scene was a concert sort of thing being performed in sign language. If music can be felt, as many say it can be, then surely music goes beyond hearing. And to animals? What would it mean to them?

Hope to find out someday...

New Office...

...and new work.

New people... and new settings.

But the same old anxieties and same old excitement with anything new...

Sorry for being absent. Sorry for making up excuses (only to leave them unused though).

Hope less time will not mean less reflection...

Vous qui passez sans me voir...

It lingers. It floats. And it recedes just when I think it's settling down... Thank God I made it for Carmen & David's concert!

The Forgiveness Project

Shree came over today. We met after a couple of years I think. Chatted for a couple of hours as there was lots to catch up on the time in-between. He mentioned the Forgiveness Project I'm not sure in what context though now. But it stuck in my mind. Especially given the relevance of the word in my life. In everyone's life perhaps.

Raat yun dil mein teri...

Found the Nayra Noor rendition of this Faiz poem. Went back years. To the times of Dhoop Kinare and other Pakistani serials. They were so far ahead and so much more brilliant then the trash on Indian channels now. The jarring music- dhayen dhayen- with the camera panning violently in and out of the faces of the various non-actors in the present-day hindi serials gives me such a headache. Mais maintenant! Raat yun dil mein teri...

4 Seasons in 1 Day!

Delhi was really like that today. The hard sun beating down on the roads. Then the rain. A prelude to summer. And if you turned back, perhaps the end of winter somewhere in the distance. The sun lit up the streets and the trees. As if God just tweaked the display controls. The rain settled the dust. And a simultaneous occurrence of the two I have seldom seen! It was quite warm and the rain drops gleamed in the sun rays filtered partly by the trees that lined up the sidewalks and partly by the rain itself. Oh! What a beautiful day! A perfect reflection of what was going on inside my head- anguish, content, love, dislike, anxiety and excitement all at once. And I thought, pain is ok. Pain is good. As long as you try to understand what it's trying to tell you. PS: Someone told me there was some hail today as well!

Where's my Faiz!?

Can't seem to find it! Very irritated as wanted to read something from it. It went something on the lines of: Dil rahine ghame jahaan hai aaj... cannot remember the lines and can't find my book! These things are torture. But I am remembering these lines now:

Raat yun dil mein teri khoyi hui yaad aayi,
Jaise veeraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye,
Jaise sehraaon mein haulay se chale baad-e-naseem,
Jaise beemaar ko be-wajh quraar aa jaaye.

Last night your lost memories made their way to my heart,
As if it was spring in a desolate land,
A soft breeze on the desert sands,
An impulsive comfort to an ailing heart.

Have been writing a wee bit more often than I actually put things up here.

Heard of Woolmer's death today and was very upset. Reminded of Escobar. And the El-Salvador and Honduras football wars. And Orwell saying sport is 'war minus the shooting'. Also thought of the recent clashes in Italy in Feb earlier this year when a policeman died in the post match riots there. I wonder whether it’s just sport. People will find any excuse for madness...

A weekend unfolds...

Just felt like saying... Between the stirrup and the ground, I 'many things' sought and I 'some things' found.

Can't seem to read a single book at a time. Always end up with about 3 at my bedside. Then then don't end up finishing any! Two days back I went to a bookshop at Khan Market (Genius Books in the back-lane) which is shutting down and giving a 25% off on every book. Had the most stressful time of my life going through each and every bookrack knowing fully well I won't be able to buy anything. Then thought about it most of the night and returned the next day again and finally got a few. Some kind of a disorder I think!

Every Now & Then

It would be nice If my voice you could heed. If you could be here In my times of need. But a voice then I hear Of reason perhaps You need no one You needn’t relapse. In shades of dependence On dependable friends. For the roads are for you And so are the bends. We could walk together Or alone just as well. A ‘hello’ is a story But so is ‘farewell’!

Wish the world offered no such pictures...

You turn the wheels

for meagre meals.

You suffer your fate

and bear the weight.

But you deserve a life

of those you carry.

of those who pass

Or those who tarry.

One of the biggest lie...

...that people usually tell themselves is that their parents loved them. And that their parents are/were infalliable. I read this somewhere and now I wonder sometimes if my childhood was too good to be true. We suspect that which gives us nothing to be suspicious of. But now, as an adult, I think we are all responsible for our actions and the answers to these questions do not really matter. You have to do your own thinking. And choose your own way of life. And accept that everyone is human... including your parents.

There may be a context to all this one might think. Perhaps there is.

Silence...

...this side has been for many reasons. Hmmm, like too many things to write about and hence a block, caught up with other stuff, too much on my mind but mostly I think it is a pattern where I start something with a lot of enthausism and then it fades off... It's the last one I'm concerned about and should work on breaking patterns. Reminded of Simon 'n Garfunkel's 'Patterns':

...Like the color of my skin,

Or the day that I grow old,

My life is made of patterns

That can scarcely be controlled.

Oh but I did swim. And saw 'Mais Ou Et Donc Ornicar' and 'The Keys to the House'. And today it was 'The Secret Life of Words' at the IHC. Touching. All of them but more so the Keys and Secret Life.

Holi!!!

And a very happy one at that! Happy Holi to all the world! In other news: The pool opened yesterday. Was the first (and only) one to swim yesterday and today. The nip's not quite quit the air (or water) I say!!! But worth the swim anyway!

Tsongmo Lake, Sikkim...

Where mists and fogs in ghostly bands, Vague, dim, moon-clothed in spectral light; Drift in from far-off haunted lands, Across the silences of night. (From Lake Lyrics and Other Poems by William Wilfred Campbell.)

Addicted to...

Carla Bruni's 'Quelqu'un m'a dit'. It's simply beautiful. Also in the line of love presently are: music from Nagesh Kuknoor's film 'Dor' and Camille's 'Les ex' from the album 'Le sac des filles'.

A fencible thing to do...

Indian soldiers at the Indo-China border (Nathula).

Guilty...

...of leaving the past couple of days unaccounted for. Much happened and nothing happened. The news of a pull-out from Iraq by the British (only to inject them in Afghanistan?). That news went round and round in my head for some strange reason. I generally thought about it a lot and had a few things to say but it doesn't count much what I think in any case. Basically, laziness wins over purpose (or a lack of it really). A lot of time was spent alone. 'Aimless in Delhi' was the theme this weekend.

FIRC (French Information Resource Centre)

First, it was the FIRC, where I mostly go alone in any case. It was nice to have a Marcel Pagnol in lap and a cup of coffee on the table outside. This was Pagnol's Le château de ma mère, which I was not understanding as it was in French and I'm nowhere near reading books in French (have read it in English though and seen the film by Yves Robert). But continued looking at the words. People chatted around, I faded in and out of the surroundings and then realized the sun was on its way to the far west. Looked up and soaked-in the sunrays. It was mild and delightful- the kind of evening time when the rays just seems like a gentle spray, a drizzle, in which you could slowly get drenched. It was beautiful. Then looked back into the book and the words seems to look different with the light falling on the page directly (although it was still French and I understood as little as ever). Found a dry, shrivelled-up leaf on the table, its tiny veins running a maze all over. It' edges wore a deeper brown than the rest of it. Twirled it in my fingers for a bit and left it to the mercy of another breeze. Sometimes one notices so much and with so much lucidity. I wonder what doors of perception would have opened if I was brave like Huxely!

Safdurjung & Lodhi The next day I ended up in Safdurung's Tomb lamenting the falling apart of the monuments the walls of which now bear evidence of x's love for y. The lawns (which follow the Charbagh layout of gardens says a board) were full of lovers and their coquettish ways. They left very little space or independence to the eyes so one could simply gaze upwards on the minars of the tomb which have ends shaped like petals. Some 'petals' were sadly broken. The fountains were dry but you could imagine the splendour of their former life. The trees and the corridors of the tomb gave a sense of invisibleness to everyone but the couples who needed it the most. It was evening time and the winters-are-on-the-way-out kind of pleasant evening sun shined a brilliant yellow. On my way out read the board put up there and tried to learn it up just for kicks as had some time before meeting friends at Khan-market. It said: This tomb was built by Nawab Shahjudaullah, in memory of his father, Mir Muqdim Abul Mansur Khan, entitled Safdurjung, who was the governor of Oudh during the reign of the mughal emperor Mohammed Shah (1719-48), and prime minister during the reign of his successor, Ahmad Shah (1748-54). He died in 1754. With its high enclosure walls, the Charbagh layout of gardens, fountains and tanks, and the central domed mausolem, the tomb follows the fine example of Humayun's tomb. It has been aptly described as the last flicker in the lamp of mughal architecture in Delhi. Think I did learn that up pretty well! Was happy to see a board there in Braille as well, which I think is a rarity here generally. Crossed the road and then walked over to Lodhi gardens where I explored some areas for the very first time. Another tomb but no idea who built it or when and for whom. No board was found. Just parrots and pigeons. The parrots were in pairs mostly. Tried to mimic them imagined a confused look on their faces. Walked around till I got a call from friends wondering when I'd be there, so broke off from reading a board (another one!) with pictures of birds and a little on each of them. Felt illiterate and had a strong urge to make acquaintance with each of their kind!

A good weekend I think.

When waters get murky...

On 12th Feb ’07, Raymond Lafitte, a Swiss civil engineer appointed (in May 2005) as a neutral expert by the World Bank, gave his verdict settling the dispute between India and Pakistan over the Baglihar dam. On 5th Feb ’07, an Arbitration Tribunal comprising of Justice N.P. Singh and members N.S. Rao and Sudhir Narain gave its unanimous verdict on the dispute between two Indian States- Tamil Nadu and Karnataka- over the waters of river Cauvery, a long-standing dispute since 1807 I read in some report. I’m not too aware of the problems with any of these disputes but it seemed a strange coincidence that two States in the country and two countries in the Asian continent were embroiled in water related disputes. Fading into the background are Tamil Nadu’s other disputes over the waters of the Palar river with Andhra Pradesh and over the Periyar, the Sholayar and Aliyar rivers with Kerala. Punjab and Haryana (along with Rajasthan and Delhi too but I need to check) fought over the Sutlej-Yamuna canal link. While the verdict by Lafitte is being given a mixed welcome by both India and Pakistan, the verdict by the Tribunal looking into to Cauvery dispute seems to have created a rather strong sense of winning and losing. Tamil Nadu appears happy and Karnataka upset. Karnataka saw some violence (amidst the news of so much violence in all parts of the world one only grasps numbers that are high in terms of fatalities. Injuries and that to in seemingly low numbers by comparison leave you with hardly any memory of this aspect of the news unfortunately). Interestingly, one of the ways in which cable operators in Karnataka protested were to ban any movie in Tamil or having a Tamil star. Ties in with some earlier thoughts below on censorship by entities outside the ‘State’. If India & Pak remain happy with Lafitte’s verdict (apparently now even Sir Creek is being jointly surveyed by India & Pak for a mutually acceptable solution but more on that some other time), it should serve as a lesson for the States here in India to accept verdicts even when they might have some undesirable consequences for one of the parties. It’s always a problem keeping everyone happy when negotiating for someone has to give. All in all, a telling sign of the power of water. It may seem out of context but I was reminded of Tagore’s words from Gitanjali: …where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls…

Not quite an awakening but still...

A broken e-string. The remaining 5 rusty. Fingers even more so. Should have started earlier. Should have played more. Should not have given up. But never mind all that. Will re-string and restart tomorrow! Good night.

Je pense donc je suis...

Of disturbed minds...

The fragility of our freedom of speech and expression stands exposed every now and then. Most of us in our ordinary lives do not need (choose?) to test the limits of this freedom. Indeed, when the opportunity doesn’t arise for us to expand its boundaries or raise the pitch, we are secure in the imagination of its theoretical existence. Perhaps the insecurity is not entirely misplaced. But some feel the chains when they choose to move their limbs. And you hear faint whispers of voices struggling to be heard. It is mostly the ‘State’ that is perceived as the entity muting or muffling these voices. This is usually done rightly or wrongly in the name of reasonable restrictions of that freedom of speech. Just by way on info, as far as India is concerned, both- the freedom and its restriction- find their articulation and fountainhead in the Indian Constitution. Unfortunately, and as if the State was not enough, the domain of quelling voices has expanded and lent itself to even those outside the definition of ‘State’. Case in point- a recent film called Parzania by Rahul Dholakia. It is based on a true-life story of a 10 year old boy from a Parsi family missing since the Gujarat riots in 2002. The family still awaits any news of him. They hoped that people in Gujarat might see this film and have some news to offer. They hoped that the whole of Gujarat did actually see it. They are hoping still. The film is not being shown in Gujarat. People feared that Parzania carried the potential to cause communal disturbances. That it may be showing Gujarat in a false light. That more riots may follow. That at the very least, cinema theatres showing it may be targeted. That the pyromaniacs with the hobby of burning posters may not stop at just that. Theatres owners felt the heat before the fire. But what if they were offered security from the government? Well, the government could not avoid the riots in 2002. On the contrary there is evidence to argue they were silent partners-in-crime or even active perpetrators during the riots. And so it came to pass. Parzania- not in Gujarat. This is not the first instance of invisible chains on people’s freedom of speech and expression. Not in Gujarat in any case. Many films were taken off from cinemas in the past. Aamir Khan, for example, paid for going public with his ideas on the Narmada dam displacing villagers. Gujaratis said yes to the dam and no to his movies. His posters were burnt and films had to be taken off from all over the State. The government did not ban Parzania. The people did. For films disturb them. But reality does not.

Jalapahar to Darj...

Slightly slain, a lingering pain. For you are gone, yet you remain.

A lovely evening...

It happened as planned: the walk (a little less than the planned 'jog'!), then dinner with old friends (was meant to be only one but the table was pleasantly crowded.)

And somewhere in the middle of driving around today, Nelson hummed... Some other world has all the sunshine...

Caught up with old times. Pune days! Oh! Those days! A brilliant daze! Free spirits roaming the earth. Empty pockets! Feeling rich! Friends, bikes, roads and places- we mixed freely... End-goal in life then seemed aligned with Pope's lines I still can remember from school days: Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. I reminisce, therefore I am...

Keep trying!

A million, nay, billion phone calls. As many emails. Work! Where art thou!? Looking forward to a read 'n a jog 'n then dinner later tonight with an old friend from Bombay.

Just a cloudy evening in Gangtok...

Stare not into the distance. Dare not make its acquaintance, or even of the corner.

It will bring you in its fold itself,

a choice of time and manner.

Minor indications of impending summer days...

The sidewalks are lined up with watermelons and tender green coconuts... What else does it mean I ask!? Oh! Swimming days are not far behind hopefully!

Evening falls...

Dropped me mum to the hanuman temple in CP (have to see the crowd to believe it on Tuesdays!) and dashed off to pick up S to go for a walk at the Lodhi Garden. Two of her friends/colleagues came along. A beautiful evening, lovely flowers and an itch to break into a jog (S wearing jeans so had to stick to a walk!). Then another dash was made to the library at FIRC (French Info Research Centre) to return their movies. Reached just in time and luckily managed to pick up two more: ‘The Keys to the House’ (an Italian film) and ‘Mais Ou Et Donc Ornicar’ (Evidently French! It’s actually a mnemonic used by school children in France to remember coordinating conjunctions). Both sound promising but let’s see. Drove around some more to pick up mum. All along was thinking how lovely it is to drive in some parts of Delhi. It was one of those days when I could drive on and on. Not much traffic. No particular hurry. A great time to reflect. Waited for some twenty minutes before deciding to grab a coffee and just when it was bought- mum appeared. A voice in head suggests giving up coffee for a while. And then on the way back the romance with the Delhi roads died. A terrible jam. 15 mins stretched to 45. Cars everywhere. We chatted of everything and nothing. No mood to reflect now but random thoughts of how I learnt to drive filtered in. I may have been about 9 or 10 at the time, spending my vacations in the company of my dad's drivers mostly. Ergo, I was driving their cars and driving them mad! One of them, I remember, talked of interesting things (seemed interesting at the time at least). He said GOD was called so because he was the Generator Operator and Destroyer! Hmmm. Then another time when in all earnestness I said drinking is bad he explained the meaning of rum- it was ‘Regular Use Medicine’! For those who have seen the Old Monk XXX bottle, his take was that the ‘xxx’ meant you should have it once in thirty days. He seemed to have found some favour with the doctor and perhaps had it once every 30 mins! The jam also reminded of how a city is so much like a person. It has some qualities and some failings. Thought why I was in Delhi and where I’d like to be. Some small village in the mountains perhaps. Or in the middle of nowhere in my desert land. All perhaps when I’m older. For now I need the city. But I still detest the traffic jams! Then home and dinner and now to some reading before I finally call it a night. Sophie’s Word beckons. Had made a half-baked promise to sleep soon and wake up early. But look at the time. God help me!

Let there be light... and colour...

Too few words, a different meaning. Now silence speaks, of its leaning. In small steps backwards, in moments unfolding. Us away, will it be weaning. This from a temple near Darjeeling.

And today begins... (at 1330hrs!?)

From a random opening of Elliot's Wasteland (& other poems)... This from the IVth of Ash Wednesday:

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down

Redeem the time, redeem the dream

the token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

A promising day. Hope to work on my fitness. If only I can hold on to that thought!

Good fences make good neighbours...

And shoddy phones-cameras make shoddy snaps!

A new beginning...

This is a fresh start. Some old chapters closed and finding some space before the next one opens up. For today, just hope to sleep well!